#papaw because like... he was my papaw I loved my papaw so much

[cinnabuntastic]

Depression is a HELL of a drug. I need to go out and stare at the ocean for an hour or two; maybe that'll fix me.

[lambiewrites]

got this idea from @xxshadowbabexx hehe ✨

Warning: none, fluff tho

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Would they like me? Part 1

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Captain Price: well yes and no. I’m polite and well mannered but, I am very loud and obnoxious. Not in a whiny, bratty way but in a “I have no thoughts and no singular brain cells” way. Book smart not common sense smart. I have called this man “papaw” since I met him and even though he’s like 40, he’s still papaw. I consistently ask to come to his office because I feel like it’s a comforting little place, minus the cigar smoke. Price has asked about my southern/Appalachian accent more than enough times. I can tell him about mountain life. But he needs a break from me, are you kidding?! I talk way too much and ask stupid questions so, it’s 50-50. But at least I do what I’m told and well mannered.

Gaz: it depends. I really like Gaz and he seems so sweet and kind and polite. I feel like we would get along very well, until I don’t stop talking and he doesn’t know how to shut me up. I get this really strange vibe that he’s a marvel fan and so we can talk about that. I feel like he really likes Spider-Man (all of them) and so we could talk about that. Definitely would call him and say, “did you see that new trailer?” We like each other’s instagram pictures and we wish each other a happy birthday on our socials. I’d bake for him. We’d have sad boy hours together so, yeah I really think so but, I know I’m too loud for him.

Soap: bestie you already know the answer to this one and my answer is 100% yes. We both have big families (everyone headcannons him as having a giant family yeah?) lots of nieces and nephews we could bond over. We’d both try to understand each other thru our thick accents. (Him being Scottish and my southern one-) and it would be a delight! We both ramble and I’d listen to all his fun little stories. I’d follow him around like a lost puppy until he told me to give him space. I’d share a Dr.Pepper with him and cook for him. It would be the best time ever. Bestie for life. We gossip together and doodle together.

Ghost: hmmm, see here’s the thing. I have this feeling that’s like “yeah you’d hate me at first” and we’d just assume we hated each other at first until we have sad boys hours and just sit in absolute painstaking silence for hours. He’d hate me, I know he would because I’d get all “counselor” on him. (Hey I paid lots of money for that degree okay?!) and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me but, I’d respect his boundaries (obviously) and give him his space (obviously) but he’d find little stupid notes with my handwriting on it being like, “you’re my hero.”, “take it easy”, “have a good day.”, “love you.” (Platonically), “you’re worthy” blah blah blah. He’d hate it so much. He’d throw them away at first but, later on, he’s kinda like “I hate this kid but why is she the way that she is? How can she see something or someone like me and actually like me?!” It gets the gears turning. Would I be a therapist? I would.

Laswell: I follow her around like she’s my own mother. She hates me for it but, it’s good to have another set of eyes. (Mine don’t work) we’re chill. That’s all we do is just chill and relax. It’s hard having so much testosterone around 24/7. We’re out and about. Having mommy-daughter day. Am I crying? I am, how’d you know? We talk about married life. She tells me about her wife, I tell her about my husband. We have dinner at each others house. We show each other our pet pictures.

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A/n: I am very much an extrovert and very loud and bubbly. I am an ENFP and I do have my counseling degree so, combine that into some sort of personality as you will and make your own assumptions ❤️ this was all for fun and feel free to comment or something that would be fun and great! Please be nice though 😭❤️.

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[certaincollectionlandblog]

Mick Schumacher with a southern GF

Summary: I can't be the only one who thinks that Mick would be absolutely perfect with a southern girlfriend so I had to share.

*Disclaimer: I use Y/N and reader, but when I write this in my mind I see her as a tall plus size gal (mainly because that's my personal body type), but also because I really see Mick doing amazing with a woman like that. If there is anything I write that doesn't apply to you feel free to leave it out and like always feedback is always appreciated and loved!

Photos from Pinterest

you're an up and coming social media influencer and college student who just so happens to also be an F1 fan

You love to document things in your life like travel, food, college, and growing up in the south

You post some F1 content thinking nothing off it when you notice that Mick Schumacher has started to follow you and comment on some of your posts

Let's not lie to ourselves here you totally fangirled and that's totally understandable because it's Mick freaking Schumacher

You guys start DMing back and forth and really hit it off

That was over a year ago and let's just say the rest is history

You love visiting Mick and his family and you always come prepared with a batch of your Mamaw's peanut butter cookies

He loves when you wear your cowboy boots out because he can't quite explain it, but somehow it makes your legs and butt look so good

You're a natural with animals and kids which in Mick's head has him thinking "she's a freaking Disney princess"

Mick loves when you call him so excited about getting a new animal or something in the garden blooming

His mother adores you!! She thinks you are the sweetest woman she's ever met and she is so happy for her son

Seeing Mick in that cowboy hat just really gets you going and more often times than not when he wears you end up saving a horse and riding that cowboy

Bonfires are a regular get together for your family and Mick loves how down to Earth and sweet y'all are

He thinks it's so cute when you say things and your drawl comes out more than normal, especially when you're tired

You somehow give the letter M almost three syllables and he loves it

Your parents taught you to mainly cook from the garden and hunting and Mick is obsessed with your food, he's convinced that love as an ingredient is real

Loves to slip his hand in your back pocket when you're wearing jeans

You don't really post each other on social media much because y'all are more of a private, but not secret couple and it works so well for the both of you

You introduce Mick to some southern staples such as Moonpies, authentic biscuits and gravy, and of course some moonshine (it's not your favorite, but you'll drink it)

Some people like to assume that just cause you talk slow means your stupid and Mick can be the first one to say that is totally not the case

You have more knowledge in the back of your head than the library of Congress and he is so proud of how smart and hardworking you are

Mick loves when you come in dirty from the garden or helping out around the farm

"maybe we should shower together, save some water you know"

Mick's family loves how you're always making him smile and sometimes they swear they've never seen him this happy

Sometimes he'll find you just laying outside on the grass reading a book and he can't help but think to himself "I'm going to marry her someday"

His mom is constantly asking him when he's going to pop the question

One time you told him it smelled like it was going to rain and he looked at you like you grew another head until you explain it to him

You enjoy taking him to the local drive-in near your house and out to a small restaurant

He loves your papaw's raspberry jam and will fight anyone over the jars of it your papaw gives him

With you life for Mick slows down just a little and he sees his future in your eyes

If you're walking ahead of him and he wants you closer he'll pull you gently by your belt loops

You love taking him up to the top of the land and just watching the stars together

He loves you and he couldn't see himself with anyone else

~Instagram~

yourinstagram

liked by yourbestfriend, yourmom, charles_leclerc, and 459 others

yourusername Home is where the heart is

[sebastianstangirl01]

Hi! I saw that requests are open and this one has been on my mind for a while.

With Bradley Bradshaw x daughter!reader, maybe elementary school age? where he surprises her at school after getting back from deployment.

Thanks!

Christmas Miracle

Title: Christmas Miracle

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x child!reader

Summary: Y/N thought her dad was going to miss Christmas, so imagine her surprise when he surprises her at her 2nd grade Christmas Program at school.

Warnings: none

Growing up Y/N has always loved Christmas.

Her and her dad would always go all out decorating the house like it came right from the North Pole, making Christmas candy, building gingerbread houses, drinking got coco, and singing Christmas Carols on the piano.

In all her 7 years of life Y/N and her dad Bradley spent Christmas together just themselves, but after reconnecting with Maverick he joined in on their Christmas last year with Penny and Amelia now they have become one big family.

But this year is different.

Bradley has been on a deployment for an emergency mission, air support. Y/N hasn’t seen her father in person since Thanksgiving, she’s been staying at their house with Maverick who moved in to take care of her.

He’s tried to keep the 7 year olds spirits up by doing everything they normally do during the Christmas Season, but it isn’t the same without her dad and Maverick knows that. But he refuses to let the little girl he loves wallow in self pity.

Maverick knew how much Y/N didn’t want to do the Christmas Program this year at her school, but he also knew that she would regret not being a part of her favorite time of year just because she is sad. And he knew that Bradley wanted Y/N to do her Christmas Play.

“Papaw Mav?” Y/N asked as she sat curled up into Maverick’s side as ‘Rudolph’ played on the TV

“Yeah sweetheart?” Maverick replied squeezing his arm around her shoulders

“Do I really have to do the Christmas Play tomorrow?” Y/N asked playing with her fingers making Maverick sigh

“Come here, peanut.” Maverick said grunting as he lifted Y/N onto his lap making her face him. “You know you love the Christmas play, why don’t you want to do it this year? I already promised your dad that I would video the whole thing for him.”

Y/N’s big blue eyes the spitting image of her grandmother, started to fill with tears and her bottom lip started to tremble. The sight was enough to break Mavericks heart in two.

“But daddy won’t be there. I don’t want to do it if daddy won’t be there. He always takes me out for ice cream after, and we sing Christmas songs. It’s not the same without him.” Y/N said and a big tear fell down her cheek, Maverick immediately wiping it away with his finger before kissing her on the forehead and pulling her against his chest.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. You know how much your dad wishes he could be here. He loves you so much and the last thing he wants is for you to be sad, especially on Christmas.” Maverick consoled her rubbing gentle circles on her tiny back. “How about this? We call your dad right after the play and he can see you all dressed up in your Christmas dress and then I’ll take you to get ice cream.”

“I guess that’s ok. Can we get daddy ice cream too?” Y/N asked making Maverick chuckle

“Honey I don’t think the ice cream would still be good but the time your dad got home. But when he does, we’ll all go get ice cream together. How does that sound?” Maverick asked letting you lean back on his lap and play with his dog tags.

“Good.” Y/N nodded and Maverick smiled gently rubbing her cheek making Y/N giggle

“There’s that rotten giggle I love so much! Let’s get you ready for bed, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Maverick said getting up keeping Y/N on his hip

The next day Y/N was sitting with her class on the floor of her school gymnasium, she was wearing a sparkly red dress with black tights and red buckled shoes. Penny had curled Y/N’s hair and pulled it into a half up half down style with a red and silver sparkly bow.

Maverick and Penny were sitting in the stands with Amelia, all of them smiling at how cute the kids all looked in their Christmas outfits. Maverick had his phone ready to record, but he wasn’t just recording Y/N’s play.

Early this morning Bradley had called and told him that he was going to be coming home, the mission was over and he would be back in time for the Christmas play but he wanted it to be a surprise for Y/N so Maverick hasn’t told her yet. Bradley had just texted Maverick to tell him that he made it to the school and was about to come in.

Y/N was sitting on the floor criss crossed playing with the skirt of her dress unaware of the principal approaching the microphone with a smile on her face.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming out to our 2022 Christmas Program! The students and staff have worked so hard to put on a good show for you all, to kick off the Christmas Season! Before we dismiss and you check your children out for Christmas Break, I would like to take a second to remember the men and women who cannot be here with their family members this Christmas because of their bravery in service of our Military.” The principal announced and everyone started to clap

Y/N clapped along with the rest of the gym but she could feel herself becoming more and more sad at the thought of her dad not being here with her.

“But I would like to recognize a special member of our military who has just landed back stateside and came here to surprise his daughter. Everyone please help me welcome back, Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw!” The principal announced making Y/N’s head snap up as everyone started cheering and clapping

She looked up at Maverick instinctively and he just smiled and pointed to the front of the gym. Y/N followed his gaze and saw her dad standing there with a teddy bear and a big smile on his face, still dressed in his flight suit.

“Daddy!” Y/N exclaimed as she got onto her feet and ran towards him as fast as her little legs would carry her. “Daddy!”

Bradley smiled and bent down scooping his little girl into his arms and spinning her around, Y/N buried her head into his neck and held onto him for dear life.

“Daddy, your home!” Y/N whimpered with happy tears falling down her cheeks

“I couldn’t miss Christmas with my favorite girl in the world! I love you so much.” Bradley smiled kissing her cheek

“I love you too daddy.” Y/N whispered into his neck

Taglist:

@daughterofthereaper02

@luckyladycreator2

@calpurniatypes

@littlebadariell

@qnfluvr

@raefoxiegirl

@maverick-wingman

@avada-kedrava-bitch

@army24--7

[james-is-not-here]

Venting

Imagining random shit to try and fall asleep when it full on hit me that I'm an age regresser...

Like I knew I wanted to be smaller so to speak and I wanted to be like a child but it finally hit me. Not only that, it hit me that I think I'm doing it to cope.

The last few years of my teen hood weren't that great. I lost my Papaw, lost my best friend. Then we were scammed out of a house and had to move in with my grandma and during the time at my grandma's I was experimenting and while doing so I kept secrets. I hid everything from my parents and at the same time someone in my family was going down a dark path, went to a shitty hospital for it which made the dark path even darker and my secrets were apart of that too, I started to feel safer at school rather than my own home.

Then I graduated, my family finally moved out of my grandma's house and slowly but surely the tiny thread I had connected to the family member started to weave itself back together but only now am I realizing that I didn't feel like being "small" until after all this happened.

I use to feel independent and could do things on my own but now? Now I'm scared. I'm scared that my art won't get me to where I want to be, I'm scared that I'll always be by myself and my friends will forget me, I'm now scared to be independent and this all happened after a graduated. I don't have a schedule to follow, I don't have anywhere to go, I don't have a set plan to follow anymore and now all I do is sit around and do random shit on my phone.

For crying out loud, I can't even finish a fucking request or stand alone fics. I start it but then I stop and I feel so shitty for leaving all of you hanging but I also appreciate that no one has hated on me for it, that you're still waiting and I'm sorry that it's taking me so long to get things out.

This started out as me realizing I want to be cared for and held and babied but now I realize just how fucking scared I've become. How Co-Dependent I've become all because I'm not at school anymore like seriously? What happened to the person that willingly auditioned for their first solo in band? What happened to person that helped create a club for their school? What happened to the person that literally offered their skills to a teacher to make posters? What happened to the person that would give more than 100% in school projects that included drawing something?

Why did I step back into my shell? Why did I go back to that shy person in the back of the class that stuttered and tripped over her words when put on the spot? Why did I go back when I was so high up?

My old ELA teacher, god I loved him. Student/Teacher love I mean. He, too, had ADHD and I didn't know that but when he told me I felt so seen. He helped me so much. He helped me understand better and he came up with "The Graph". I'm tearing up just thinking about him cause he was amazing. "The Graph" is what we referred to as my progress. I was to push to keep the graph going up, to not stop and keep it from going down.

Yeah, if I was to see that teacher again he wouldn't be happy that my graph is plummeting. He wouldn't be happy that my graph hasn't peaked in a year, almost two.

I just don't know what I'm doing wrong and I'm fucking scared. I don't know how to get back into the groove I had and I feel so left behind. I know I shouldn't compare myself to others but I feel so behind with all my friends in college or in the military. I know I work differently but I feel like I should be up there with them, I should be doing something beneficial rather than doing nothing. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'm even starting to doubt my art which I'm also scared of cause I'm so fucking good at what I do.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

[coyotestarcraft]

I Need To Know

Fandom: Good Omens

Poly!Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

⚠️PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANYTHING LIKE THIS TRIGGERS YOU!⚠️

A/N: It’s been over a year since loss of my grandfather that I miss dearly, there’s a lot I want to say about him, but I’ll wait till the end, if you want to read it or not I don’t care, it’s just a way to show how much I loved him.

So please read this story and know that even though you’ve gotten into many fights or quarrels with your grandparents, they still love you, so go hug them or call them and tell them that you love them. Spend as much time with them as possible, because you never know when you’ll get to have that chance to spend time with them again.

And I call him papaw.

______________________

First Person POV

I sat on that grass ledge expressionless.

I wish I had more time, more memories, more.....anything. I wished had spent more time with him, I wished had given him more hugs and kisses when I left for school each morning.

Now that I sit here and think about all of it, it doesn’t matter anymore....none of it will happen again because he’s gone...forever.

He used to say to me, “I love ya, but I don’t like ya.” I chuckle at that, it’s the first time in a while since a smile has taken over my face.

He used to aggravate the crap outta me, and honestly, I miss it more than I know. I hated it but as I sit here now I want that back more than ever.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice softly calls out, pulling me from my thoughts, I turn to see Aziraphale and Crowley standing between two trees and forest behind them.

“I was just thinking again, about him.” I say as I turn back around to stare off into the sunset that sets just above the horizon out far in the distance.

Maybe, just maybe I could ask.

“Aziraphale?”

He comes and sits next to me along with Crowley who sits to the right of me.

I need to know.

Now.

“Yes my dear?” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, looking at me curiously.

It’s now or never.

“Will you please....go...check on him?” My voice breaks as I try my best not to break down in tears.

“It’s against-“ Aziraphale gets cut off as he looks at my face and sees how much I need him to do this.

“I will see what I can do, if I have to fall to make your pain go away love, then I’m willing to do this for you.” He puts his forehead to mine.

Just one day is all I want, one time is all I need.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, it was hard not to break down, but after not knowing if he’s okay is rough.

I just need that feeling of relief knowing he’s no longer in pain.

*Timeskip To a Week Later*

Crowley’s flat had it’s comforts, he had his plants, Aziraphale had some books stashed somewhere and Crowley gave me my own room with a desk for drawing and to just hang out it when things go to be too much, it was a safe space.

I sat at my desk drawing away, Crowley was in the plant room yelling per usual.

To others it may have frightened them, but I laugh, it’s typical Crowley, the demon I have fallen in love with for a long time.

The sound of the door opening and closing is what draws me away from my desk.

“I’m back loves.” Aziraphale calls out.

I walk out and smile at Aziraphale who gives a wide smile back, he never did that unless it was good news.

He had been gone the past week, up in heaven doing work.

“I’ve got some good news my love,” he opens the door, and there stands my grandfather.

I stand there wide eyed and mouth agape.

“Hey huckleberry.” He says.

Tears fill my eyes and before I realized what I was doing, my arms wrap around his shoulders and I’m sobbing.

“You’re-you’re, okay, your not in pain anymore!” I smile appears on my face, I look at him and noticed how young he looks since the last time I’d seen him.

“Holy crap, when did you look like this! You had white hair and everything since we’d last seen each other!” I laugh.

“Things change dear, even in heaven.” He says.

“I guess so.”

We chat for a bit and I talk about how Aziraphale and Crowley have brought happiness into my life, how I’m working on bettering my mental health, and much more.

Eventually he has to leave, I give him a long hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’m happy knowing your okay and not in that hospital bed in pain. It hurt when mom got the call about your passing.”

“You know I’ll always be here, in your heart.” He smiles.

“Yeah, I know pops.” I laugh.

“Please come back and visit, I miss you more than ever.” I say.

“Alright, but you know I’ll have to aggravate you.” He laughs, making me laugh along with him.

“Okay.” I say, he walks out shutting the door.

“Do you feel better?” Crowley asks.

I turn to him with tears rushing down my face, but I have smile, “yeah.”

He knows I need him, he knows I love him, he knows I won’t forget him.

THE END!

Rant down below! ⬇️

In case anyone wants to know, his name was John, that’s all I’m giving to keep his full name private.

I think he knew I loved him a lot even though I didn’t show it much, and yes the name huckleberry was an actual nickname he gave me and I hated it, but after he passed I came to like it.

I almost cried while writing this but I stayed strong.

I wrote this not for fun, but to get people to realize that you NEED to spend as much time with your loved ones as possible, not just your grandparents, but your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, whoever.

It may seem like you have all the time in the world to spend with them, but that can change in a heartbeat.

I feel so guilty that I didn’t spend as much time with my grandfather as I should’ve.

Anyway! I hope you read this story and learned to not take time for granted, you never know when you’ll have that chance to spend time your relatives again.

[whatbloglol]

Ok so… I’m not a writer. And I’m not an artist. But I have this memory of a time and place in my life that I would like to get back to, so I’m going to try my hand at describing the place/feeling with words and maybe one of my experiences there. Here goes…

The summer heat was never as bad when I was a child. As a young body of about 7 to 9 years old, my energy and endurance were near boundless. Eyes bright and cheeks ruddy, I was glad to start another day at the horse farm that my grandaunt -and-uncle owned up in the small town of Fairfield, Illinois.

My mamaw had supposedly grown up in the area—I’ll have to remember to ask her about it later for confirmation—and I can only imagine what that must’ve been like. Papaw tells me that when he was my age, “you could sit all day and watch the road and not see a single car go by.” I remember laughing, giddy with the opportunity to tease him. “That’s because cars weren’t even INVENTED yet!” I didn’t look at him. I don’t know if I was right or not… that’s just how we expressed familial love at the time. We teased each other, sometimes self deprecating in the process. His own mother, before she passed away, used to say that when G-d said “Let there be Light,” she was there to flip the switch.

But I digress…

Me, a bright-eyed, ruddy-cheeked, tough little pony-tailed tomboy standing on top of the hill in front of the farm house… ready to see what new trouble I could get into.

I peeked down the hill at a small plastic drainage pipe that stuck out from the slope, looking for the massive bullfrog that I knew lived there. I had caught sight of him yesterday after we arrived, and resolved to myself that I would catch him before the few days we planned to spend there were over. And sure enough, there he was, sitting his massive butt on the edge of the drainage pipe, water trickling slowly from under him. I knew that if I could sneak up behind him and block his escape back into the pipe, he was mine. There was no else for him to go, the grass around the pipe short from having been mowed recently, and no other holes close enough to hide in. Slowly… silently… not unlike a ninja or a tarantula stalking its prey, my pink sparkly jellie shoes traversed the distance. He flinched. He shifted his position a little. I froze. Did he see me? No, not yet. I crept forward again, preparing to strike not at the frog himself, but at the hole buried in the hill. A smart one, I thought I was, having the intelligence to learn after a previously failed attempt that the real challenge was beating him to the hole. Another shift. It was now or never. I took one more half step and leapt low into the air, aiming to come down above the hole to cover it with my hands.

It didn’t work… the half step was too much and he saw me. As I landed, my hands covered the front of the hole, trapping him inside. But he was too far in there for me to see, let alone reach, and I knew better than to stick my hands into dark holes. Dang it… maybe he’ll come back out in a few hours.

Time passes and there are plenty of things to see and do on the farm. Sure, breeding and selling horses was where their money came from, but they were a bit homestead-y as well, with chickens, goats, peacocks, fishing pond, and a Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog named “Dusty” that lived with his little long-haired chihuahua-mix partner “Dagwood” in the crawlspace under the house. Dusty was sweet but preferred the company of the other animals. Dagwood was feisty and high-energy, barking and trotting circles around the two of us as I scooped some dry dog food into their bowls. Taking a couple of handfuls of the smelly pellets for myself and stuffing then into my pockets, I ambled on down the hill and towards the fishing pond.

I passed by the wooden picnic tables set up at the bottom of the hill, shaded by several trees where the adults sat and chatted. There were a lot of family members here that I didn’t know, amongst aunts and uncles and cousins that had come with me on the RV ride over. “Didja get ‘im yet, Charli?” I looked over to see a thin, yet pear-shaped woman with tan skin, short cut-off jeans, a tank top, and a pixie-type hair cut sitting in a lawn chair with her legs crossed. My grandaunt Virginia, trying (and succeeding) to look younger than she was. In hindsight, the farm life was good for her. It kept her in shape. Words like “thin” and “tan” really didn’t run in my side family, with most of those who sired me being more on the side of “portly” and “pasty.” Mamaw and Papaw were sitting close by, chuckling a little at me as I shrugged my shoulders towards her, letting my arms and head hang to exaggerate the body language of defeat. She took a slow drag from her cigarette and blew it quickly into the air, flicking the ash onto the ground beside her. She chuckled along with her sister and brother-in-law. “Better luck next time!” I nodded solemnly to her as I grabbed a cane pole from a nearby tool shed.

The edge of fishing pond was only a several meters away from the back of the shed. I stood between the two spots, out of sight of the adults at the picnic tables. On the left side of the pond were two big, beautiful willow trees standing on either side of a drainage hole, no doubt there to keep the pond from overflowing when it rained. Not that I understood things like that at the time… What I DID know in that moment were two things. First, that it was NOT as cool as it might seem to hide and play under the leaves of a willow tree, because it was absolutely full of the blood-sucking types of bugs that would make my skin an itchy, miserable mess. Second, dog food is pretty decent fish bait.

On the left side of the pond was a dock, jutting out towards the middle, with a large plastic bucket sitting atop it. I jogged over to it and knelt down to the water, digging in my pocket and throwing a small handful of dog food out into the water. Nearby. I sat, silent and cross-legged on the edge for a minute or two while I watched the fish in the pond hungrily gobble up my offering. Perfect. I emptied my pockets into a little pile beside me on the dock.

I learned this trick on my first visit here last year from one of the local country boys that would come by and hang out with us. Nothing better to do in a small town than to be neighborly, I guess. With a single piece of dog food between two fingers, I dipped it into the water and counted to fifteen, then brought it back up. I wasn’t here to catch the big fish like my dad and uncle were trying to do from their lawn chairs at the deep end of the pond. I was here to catch the “brim.” They were smaller than the quarry the adults were after, but very quintessentially fish-like, complete with fins, gills, side-facing eyeballs… the whole works. I didn’t know it at the time, but as an adult I later found out that they were Bluegill. Or at least maybe they were related to them? Because they weren’t very blue…

Anyway! Don’t let me get too side-tracked, now. After about fifteen seconds of soaking a single piece of dog food, it was just soft enough that I was able to thread it onto the hook without it falling apart. And now, the fun part… swinging that line out into the same area as the previous offering, knowing that my little victims were still hungry. Fishing for brim was easy and fun. It didn’t require a lot of money or patience… perfect for a child. Within mere seconds I felt a little vibration and then a light tugging. I pulled up on the pole, and… voila! A fish! It flopped and squirmed, no doubt confused by the thin feeling air, of dryness, of gravity, of the warm (perhaps burning?) feeling of the sun-drenched wooden dock as I held it down gently with my foot to remove the hook. It was no-doubt terrified, having been so rudely extracted from the only existence it’s ever known—a place where it moved freely and effortlessly in just about any direction it wanted, picking and pecking at whatever it fancied as food. But of course that’s not something I had the mental capacity fathom as I grabbed it by its bottom lip and tossed its body into the water-filled bucket beside me. The adults set this up for some unknown reason… called it a “live-well.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but if they didn’t dry out and die, and I didn’t have to throw them back in, I was satisfied.

The bucket was always mysteriously empty if I ever left and came back to it. I found out later that one of the adults would collect the bucket and replace it with another one. Whilst I was busy chasing chickens, getting bopped in the head by a goat I tried to milk, or grabbing handfuls of weeds to hand-feed the horses that would come up to me at the edge of the hotwire fence that kept us safely separated, the adults would take the fish the kids caught and chop them up into pieces to bait the trotline. And a trotline, I found out later, is a long rope with larger fishing hooks hanging down from it in intervals. My dad and uncles would bait these hooks with the cut up pieces of the smaller fish and stretch the line across the deep end of the pond. After a while, they’d lift it up to see what they had caught: enough catfish for the fish fry we ate for dinner that same evening.

In confidence, my Papaw told me later: “Don’t tell anybody you caught your fish with dog food. Some of them around here think that if you catch them with dog food, that THEY are eating dog food, too.”

**Not really the end but I’m tired of writing now. What do y’all think?**

[anonbinaryweirdo]

Is it too much to ask for every swlfship of yours 🥺 if it is, then feel free to decide which ones ya will answer it with!!🥰🥰

How long have you self-shipped with them?

Do you have pet names for each other?

What’s the longest time you’ve been apart?

In real life, are they someone you wish would be your partner?

Do you think you'll continue to self-ship with them for a while?

cracks knuckles

chaeliver

ive been selfshipping myself with them sincee... october of 2022 maybe! i cant rememer when, but i do remember it was sometime before my birthday, because i found some comfort in them after my beloved papaws passing that same day <33 so they mean quite a bit to me even if i pretend otherwise :')

oli doesnt have many petnames for the boys, but oh. my. god. it never ends with them. "princess, cutie, beautiful, elfy (earns them a punch), Люби��ая (darling), Meine Taube (my dove), Elfchen (little elf) (earns him a punch)" and just whatever they can come up with

the longest? about 5-6 months because of oliver and childes jobs,,, anything longer than three weeks is unnacceptable for all three of them

yes.

absolutely. im deep in genshin hold right now <//3 dont be surprised if i turn into a mini vi SLKJFD

olitao

for a few (almost ten) months now !! AUGHH im in love with herr <33

hu tao calls oli her butterfly! (ty for the idea vi), 我的心肝 (my heart), and sometimes she makes up stuff...like calling oliver a kitty because she really is just a big cat <//3 Oli isn't too big on endearments, but when she uses them, it's usually stuff from her home back in mondstat :]

oliver tries not to be gone so long, but the highest for them was only a couple of months, and hu tao was already in her arms the moment she came into view sdfsdkfjsd

i would marry her (<- doesnt get or understand marriage)

yes. just y e s.

ventiver/oliven

for about the same time as hu tao! originally they were solely huge comfort characters, now i wanna kiss them in a romantic sense

venti is BIG on endearments. in both mondstatian and regular teyvatian tongue (or is it just called english helP), as he knows that oli will get flustered either way. and seeing her bashfully look away is always so cutehfdjg <33

i feel like it wouldn't be long with these two, so about a month or two, give or take a couple of weeks

absolutely

i would think so, yes!

[hoodiehydra]

Using @pro-ups-spamton’s Ink Demon dad AU because I have 10 ideas about it but meh.

(P.S.: um, heyyyyy pro, I have no idea how to address you. Don’t be mad, um- I love your AU so much and I did want to ask you- uh, heh. Sorry. But I did see your FAQs and it did say we could write about it so- and if you do like this then I will probably write more.)

I used uh- the two pics with Fave having a tea party with Henry and Fave giving the Ink Demon that “U r purfekt” note (or whatever was on that note— I better go see again)

BECAUSE ITS CUTE.

Warnings: Swearing. Swearing, swearing and more swearing. The Ink Demon doesn’t give two fucks that Fave is a child who should NOT know how to swear. AND WHY WOULD HE?

——————

In the sepia walls of Joey Drew Studios, lurked creatures, horrifying ones, none of which anyone would ever believe even exists.

Within those enclosed walls, was a- tea party. Yep. A fucking tea party, which consisted of Henry, Fave (or Audrey), and the terrifying Ink Demon.

Sipping on ink-black tea and staring at Fave, Henry was trembling in his seat, so terrified he could shit his pants right then and there. Why?

The Ink Demon was looming over him like some crazy-ass stalker, huffing. No, I’m not kidding.

Piercing eyes glued to Henry’s back, the Ink Demon was fighting to not kill Henry— he did, of course, not tear Henry into two, but that was besides the point.

Henry, silently pleading to God to NOT let him die, reminded himself every 2 seconds, “Don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up…” Yeah, pathetic.

“Papaw, you forgot to stick your pinkie out!” Fave exclaimed, pointing at his fist, which indeed did not have a pinkie out.

Really, Henry? A child has better manners than you?

At the same time, his chances of living decreased as the Ink Demon narrowed his eyes towards the shaking human.

You done fucked up, Henry.

“Oh, right, where are my manners?” Henry gulped nervously, while instantly straightening his pinkie, praying that he would he spared another day.

The Ink Demon huffed again, not sure if he was upset he couldn’t kill Henry, or happy because Fave had “snitched” on him, in a sense.

Henry let out a silent, shaky breath after that, yeah, he would definitely need a trip to the toilet — what toilet?— after this.

Eventually, the tea party had came to an abrupt end, due to the Ink Demon dragging Fave away from the fun she was having. Apparently it’s Henry “being shady” like usual. He was never one for fun, honestly.

Fave wasn’t the most pleased, but she just gave a slight smile towards her “father figure”, he was trying. He really was. Very protective, maybe even overprotective sometimes, to the point where he wouldn’t even let others near Fave.

They would perish.

However, he really tried. Sadly, he himself never had any form of a parental figure, so he was so fucking clueless on how to even handle ANYONE, let alone a freaking child.

Fave giggled at his overprotectiveness towards her, and handed him a note.

“U R Perfekt” it read.

The Ink Demon sighed.

“You are an idiot.” He muttered, before starting to teach her how to spell, so he wouldn’t get such “shitty letters” in the future. His words.

Yeah, yeah, we all know you liked the note, Ink Demon.

Because he just slipped the note carefully away for safekeeping. Where no one knew, but him.

—————

I honestly expected more of myself, I won’t lie. But I did want to get it done since I was kinda excited.

I can take this down if you don’t like it, Pro.

[neurospicyadhd]

Photographs

Do you ever look at old pictures of yourself? I mean, like the earliest years of your life that you may or may not be able to remember?

I am lucky and blessed to have many photos of myself at those ages, the years before I turned 10, at least.

Having a "late-age" neurodivergent diagnosis (mid-30s) gives a unique perspective when you look back.

I recently came into possession of many of these photos when my grandfather passed. He was, in many ways, keenly aware that he wouldn't live forever (even though he did live until his mid-90s). One of the things he did was sort through all of his photos and make up envelopes for everyone, kids, grandkids, great-grands, everyone, and distribute them (or leave them for distribution after he passed). He was meticulous about dating them and many had little captions he wrote on the back, it's all very charming.

The little Me of those pictures has no idea how strange she is. What a challenging road she has ahead. She doesn't know how to mask her weird yet. She doesn't know how to turn it down. She doesn't need to. We expect these things from a girl her age. Her smile is so carefree, knowing that she is loved and adored because she hasn't ruined anyone's expectations yet.

My heart breaks for her and envies her in equal measure, but mostly I just want to cherish her inside of me, but I can't figure out where she is or how to reach her. How to tell her that through all the layers of what she's become that I still love and adore her for precisely the person she is.

It can bring up a lot of feelings, seeing yourself through the eyes of someone who loved you. Pain, joy, sorrow, anger, disappointment, delight. I don't know who that person is for you, but for me it's my papaw. And from now on I want to love myself at least half as much as he loved me.

[cookinguptales]

So a few days ago I finished listening to the last of (the public episodes of) Old Gods of Appalachia. It was... honestly kind of a weird and personal listening experience, and I had to go slowly because I'd be lying if I said it didn't pull up some stuff from my childhood that I didn't enjoy.

I loved writing of the show and most of the voice acting! Most of the storylines were so, so, so good. I wish I could write like that. But the best writing in the world is still a very strange experience when it has ties to a life you left behind a very long time ago.

(cut for length! don't want to spam the poor tag)

Mama's side of the family is from that part of the country, and I have never had a good relationship with any of them. Same old story. Pentecostal/Baptist/Church of God. Enough said, right? lmao. I'm a queer disabled woman with a strong interest in magic and folklore so you can probably guess how well all that went. I'm NC with most of them now, very LC with what's left, and most of what I hear about them is through Mama, who still tries to talk to them as much as they abuse her. Last I heard, they were mostly Q.

Old Gods is an incredibly accurate show when it comes to depicting that part of the world, to the point where I had to stop even just that first episode several times to just kind of. Sit there with my thoughts and then let them go. Even just hearing Mamaw and Papaw made me thing about my gramma and my paw-paw and the uh. Very complicated relationship we "enjoyed". I feel like memories cropped up at the strangest things, like when he talked about copperheads out in the woods and I remembered that Easter when the egg hunt was canceled because one of the parents went to put an egg in a hole in the ground and found a whole nest of baby copperheads. I remembered the woods out there on the Tennessee side of Bristol twenty-five years ago when Mama would still let me visit my grandparents.

He'd say "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" and I'd be right back there at Gramma's kitchen table, seven years old and reading through every verse the Bible had on witches as punishment after Gramma found a Harry Potter book in my suitcase.

But listening to the podcast was also a deeply surreal experience because so much of it was familiar that shouldn't have been. My family never would have taught me magic or local folklore. Not ever. Well -- they had their own folklore, as we all do. Laying hands and the like. But the stories that were there before them. Oh no. Not ever.

When I was finally turned loose on the world when I was 18, I was frustratingly liberal for my own family, but annoyingly conservative on a college campus. I had a lot to learn very, very quickly. Thankfully, I did -- and I learned it through taking classes that I never, ever would have been allowed at home. I went from being unwilling to be in the same room as a tarot deck to collecting them myself. (And I have a very lovely collection now, too.) I went from being sort of fascinated if afraid of concepts of magic to taking classes on it.

I've always had a particular interest in cunning magic. It came up in my first class on the history of witchcraft, and something about it... I don't know. The combination of folk magic and mainstream religion and the elevation and degradation of them both. I ended up learning a lot about British cunning folk, but particularly quite a bit about those up in Scotland. (Just ask my Sleep No More friends. They'll vouch, probably with a laugh and a shake of the head.)

I never learned much about Appalachia, though. Not about folk magic. So imagine my confusion when I understood all the references made to folk magic in this show. Some of it, sure, was from my childhood. Haints and the lord, etc. But other things, witch bottles and charms and running water, none of this was stuff my family would have taught me. This was the stuff I'd learned in school. On my own, once I graduated. This was the Scottish folk magic which had always called to me in my classes.

And then, y'know, they mentioned it explicitly in the show. That whole Scotch-Irish thing that Appalachia's got going on. And I thought... oh, I've heard Mama talk about that. But I never felt like any of that had much to do with me; I don't have strong familial connections with either side of our family, Mama or Dad's both, and so why would I feel connected to their family history? I feel like an orphan and a mutt most days.

But oh. Of course they did. Of course they brought Scottish and Irish traditions with them when they came, and of course they weren't too dissimilar from the things Scotland had before and after they'd left.

God. Imagine how I felt when I realized that I'd spent over a decade studying the exact subject that my grandmother had always tried to keep from me. I'd come to it a roundabout way after that day sitting at Gramma's table, feet too small to reach the ground and puzzling through verses of the Bible that I've learned since were about necromancy, but I'd done it by accident all the same. I studied the traditions that my family would have had before they picked up the snakes, so to speak, and I'd done it by going right back to the source.

How perfectly fucking bizarre.

And that, all that took some getting used to. But I got used to it. I kept listening, glad that at least that part of my childhood was something I'd managed to put to bed. I could listen to the rest of the show without being hurled back to my infancy.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I mention that Dad's side is Pennsylvania Dutch? :')

Who the fuck has characters who are Pennsylvania Dutch?

So then all that's happening in the show, and I'm thinking about when I went to Alsace just before the pandemic hit, when I spent Christmastime there and I was inundated with traditions that had been passed down to me from my father. How strange it was to finally light candles for an advent wreath and know exactly from whence that tradition had come. When I was in Strasbourg, our tour guide was genuinely psyched to meet someone whose family was Pennsylvania Dutch because, well, he knew exactly where my family was from. It was such a very weird experience.

And now! Fuck! Here it is again! And I'm thinking about advent wreaths and baked butter beans and Braucherei and hex signs... all things that, again, I'd had to piece together myself in absentia. All traditions that I had received piecemeal, and ones that I'd had to confront when I myself moved up here to Philadelphia for school.

It's... like going to a family reunion, I guess, where they all recognize you but you don't speak the language. It's the strangest feeling.

But, I mean. I didn't grow up with all this. Mama and Dad went up north, much to the disappointment of her family. (They got upset when she married a Yankee, but then they moved and oof.) So okay, listening to this podcast is a weird trip for me, but it's not that reminiscent of my actual childhood. It's not like there's a character who left her family in Appalachia to go have a baby in Cincinnati, Ohio and what the fuck is going on here? lmao

(Though thankfully, my mama didn't die in childbirth with me. It was just awful close and I was one blue baby.)

When I tell you I had to turn the podcast off and go for a fucking walk!

Like... look. Old Gods of Appalachia is a good podcast. Not every arc and character landed for me, but there are certain episodes that I still marvel at. (The Boy oh The Boy.) Ways of weaving together threads that I really wish I could do as an author. The storytelling is fantastic and the production design nearly impeccable. There are transcripts, which as a woman where we passed down both haints and sign language I very thoroughly appreciate. It's perfectly creepy and the worldbuilding is fantastic.

Those vibes hit is what I'm telling you.

But it's also a podcast that felt in some ways like a history of my family that I had never learned on my own terms. I actually ended up going to my parents and talking about our ethnicity and history and traditions a few times while listening to this show, and I actually ended up learning a lot about my own background. Which... I still feel isn't totally my own to claim, but perhaps I came around to it my own way. It was honestly one of the strangest listening experiences that I have ever experienced.

I'm going back and forth on being a Patreon backer so I can listen to those episodes, too. It's not that I've never backed Patreons before. It's not even that I've never backed podcasts! (I backed TMA back in the day, at least before it changed course a bit and I lost interest.) But, and you are not allowed to judge me for this, damn. Did they have to call it tithing? I just. I know it's just a bit, I know it's not real, but I apparently still have just enough religious damage that I can't make myself do it. It's so dumb. But man. I don't fucking tithe.

We'll see if I make it over that particular hurdle. I'll probably be able to design some mental gymnastics to get me through it. Maybe.

They'll be in Brooklyn the day before my birthday and. idk. Maybe I'll go, if the venue is accessible. Book a trip to Sleep No More as well, make a fun little trip of it.

But... hell. I can't help but notice that the first stop is in Columbus, Ohio, where I once wore a little tiger mask at the zoo, and the last stop is in goddamn Bristol, Tennessee.

[blissfullybloomed]

Wisconsin. Came in a Reyna, left a Bloom. 

Today is August 12th, 2023. I have lived in Wisconsin for three years. Let's chat about how I got here, and how I am leaving…because it's a story and a half. Some of the details I will be sharing today, many of you do not know about, and for that I am sorry. 

I moved to Wisconsin by way of a promotion, worked two years to grab said promotion, and I was extremely excited to move out of South Carolina to make a lot of money. 

Even typing that feels gross. 

I ended up leaving South Carolina, leaving behind my husband at the time. Plans eventually changed on his arrival to Wisconsin. That's life. For all of you wondering, how in the heck i'm still very close friends with my ex-husband…..it wasn't easy, for either of us. We both had unfortunately come to the conclusion that we had wanted different things in life , and it was too different to continue walking the same path together. I still remember being in Kenosha, on the phone with him, agreeing that we had to tell the family. I don't remember who I called first; but I'm pretty sure it was either my papaw or mother. Regardless; after I made the calls- I completely just fell out. Literally fell to the ground, and curled up in a ball in my living room, and just wailed. Charles, you don't know this…but we did the same thing in that house. Slept on the floor…because nothing else felt comfortable. Not sober.  

When you have to face the fact that the person you married isn't going to be the person you continue to build with- it hits differently. I never wanted to be married in the first place. I didn't believe in marriage at all. My entire life was surrounded by cheating, promiscuous behavior, lies, and mistrust. Why would I trust it? Well …I trusted charles. So I figured what the hell. Let's do it. I still trust him. Crazy…because I almost left this earth twice, on purpose,  due to the broken marriage. I felt like I failed him, myself, and everyone around me. I had zero identity. I was no one. Nothing. Just an ex-wife. 

Why was I an ex wife? Because I wanted to do what I wanted to do and NO ONE was going to stand in my way…including him. All he wanted was children. He wanted to know what it was like to be a father, and hold my hand while I birthed a child for our family. That's what wives do right? That's what's supposed to be the next thing in life ... .but I didn't want that. I was still like 20 something...and had a lot I wanted to do with my life. I knew kids would be time and money. Charles would have slept in his truck…to make ends meet. Yeah, he is that guy. Incredible man. I have no idea how you waited so long for something you wanted. 

I wanted to go make a shit ton of money. Six figures. At that time in my life, I thought money was everything. That stemmed from not having a lot of anything as a child. Mom did what she could with what she had. Single mom, four kids. I can't imagine. 

Yeah, I used to be that girl- money hungry, and title obsessed. She was a mess. An absolute utter mess. I'm sorry Charles you knew that part of me, but thank you so much for loving me through it, and still loving me to this day. I now know what unconditional love actually is, and what it feels like. I want nothing but the best for you. Always. You will always be my biggest love, and biggest heartbreak. “A book on the shelf, to come back and read once in a while, and smile.” - Charles. Love you dude, and I'm sorry

Alright, moving on. 

So how do you overcome moving across the country, solo, new job, new boss, new apartment, no clue where wal-mart is, new doctors…new everything? You just do. Here’s the thing though…I didn't do it the healthy way…I tried to do everything all at once. I couldn't. I exploded. Literally blew up. 

I attended a riot in Kenosha during a very trying time for that city. That's where I put my energy. Pushing down a fence in front of the courthouse that I had filed for divorce in. About an hour later, and a tear gas canister…I was in a squad headed to the hospital for a traumatic brain injury. Three days. Concussion. Memory loss. All of it. Had my friend not picked me up off the sidewalk- I would have been trampled. I think I wanted to be trampled. Then the pain would have gone away. I was so angry. So freaking angry. I thought I had done so many things right in my life ... .and i didnt. I couldn't accept failure. I didn't know how. I knew my sisters would down on me for leaving the “perfect” husband. I had all these thoughts in my head that I was no longer going to be around anymore. No one wanted me. Not even the man I trusted , and married. 

After the riot, I decided I needed to be put on anxiety medication. I went to the doctor, he prescribed Lexapro. With new meds…it took 6 weeks for it to kick it. The next three months were absolutely insane. So what does a newly single woman do that's heartbroken? She gives herself to people. To feel some sort of attachment. Anything. I ended up getting a UTI so bad I had to go to the doctor. Brace yourself for this one. 

The doctor's visit was another incident…two weeks after the riot. I ended up getting put in the back of a police car because I couldn't control myself, when the doctor said they couldn't just give me meds to take the UTI away. I was caught on camera reaching over the counter trying to grab the nurse behind the plastic guard telling her to just write the damn prescription. I still remember the look on her face. She was like who the hell is this chick? She was also terrified, and that made my heart. I was so in my own world, that I didn't care about anyone else. I do not remember reaching over the counter. At all. Shit was crazy. For a long time. Crazy is an understatement. 

Guess what? Work life was fantastic though! I was #1 in the country for revenue growth year over year. Jesus. What a soul sucking career. That place took my soul, threw it around for a few years, and spit me out. I left that career when my boss came to me and told me , “Your head isn't in it anymore Vic, I'm at a crossroads.” I left before he could fire me. I had moral issues with that career at a certain point, plus with everything else going on in my life at the time…it was time to go. I called my friend Chris, and told him I was sorry for letting him down. I let someone else down that cared about me. I was done dude. Just done. 

I cashed out my 401K, and lived on that for four months. Took time for myself. 

I had to figure out who I was, and what I wanted. 

Well I found it. I wanted a serene atmosphere, where customers don't complain,and I had no moral qualms with- Massage Therapist. So I decided to grab a job as a Concierge-Towel Girl at a resort known for looking like the resort off of Dirty Dancing. The Osthoff Resort in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. Oh, the Osthoff. I had a wonderful ten months working there- lost 65 pounds and gained several friends. They offered tuition reimbursement and a position with them for three years. It was a no brainer. I took it, and decided to go to Massage School. 

Blue Sky School of Professional Massage and Bodywork in Grafton, WI was where I landed after a very good interview with the owner. I knew this was where I was supposed to be, I could feel it. The program was 11 months all in, and hella expensive. I had also decided to take Yoga Teacher Instructor, and Open Water Diver Certification….all at the same time. My sister-in law may say I was cycling again ...keeping myself busy with distractions…to avoid the real issue. She was 100% right. I didn't know how to work on myself yet. School taught me how to love myself. The universe has a very funny way of working…putting you in situations that will test you on every angle, and allow you to come out okay in the end. 

Coincidentally enough, massage school gave me my heart back. I figured out how to love, how to accept, how to value myself, how to give goodness to others, and how to trust the process. I learned about Chakras, traditional Chinese medicine, cupping, reflexology, muscle testing…etc. My biggest lesson from school: How to love again. Really love. Not just because they meet certain qualifications. Love them for them. Love me for me. Love all the faults and all the good. Being able to do this with the RIGHT people has been a lesson in itself…hence why I am happily single and thriving. I mean you’re reading this blog….this shit it deep yo. 

Wisconsin, you have been incredible. I thought life was over. 

It's just getting started. 

I bloomed. 

[isekaisyouwithmyforearmlaser]

im not going to lie, a lot of my struggle with my identity has been rifled with self hatred and a lot of that had to do with my religious family. my papaw told me that he loved me and thought i was always so special the other day. i thought i was undetectable. the people i love have told me since day one that god could never truly accept me until i changed and this broke me because i was always trying to force myself to change. but it made me so sad and small and suicidal. i was so scared the rest of my life and i felt like i had this horrible curse and i hid it at church and i remember finally telling the school counselor and she just stared at me speechless until i excused myself and started crying outside. after starting my transition and giving myself the ability to learn and listen to the body god made for me with love, the body that loves me and works so hard to keep me alive even though ive hurt it so much it always forgives me? i started healing. i was kinder to other and myself. i felt like flowers were growing in my mind. my thighs starting growing lucious hairs over my self harm scars like nature reclaiming me. i felt more whole than i ever have. last night i finally told myself this is who i am and im ok and im safe and i am loved and i am the ME that god made me to be. and i felt this warmth like sunrays blossoming over my entire body and i realized that god always loved me. god never needed me to hide myself or hurt myself and i didnt have to bruise my mind to fit into a box that others told me i was "supposed" to be in. i have confidence i am becoming my true self- which is the self that god made. i was hurting the self god made with love and care for so long. i finally feel safe. i feel so grateful to god. i feel god everywhere, and i know i am loved. just as the body god forged fought and forgave me no matter what, god forgave me last night. i feel safer than i ever have in rexploring my faith and getting back in touch. i could never be more full of hope and light than in this moment.

[roolsilver]

FUN STORY TIME

STORY 1

My family has always had a big picnic party at the national park, ever since my grandparents started with their college friends. About 20 years ago, we were all up there when I see my Papaw, Uncle Mark and one of my great uncles walking in A Direction with Implements. Papaw had gloves, the uncle had I think a toasting fork.

Uncle Mark was the biggest redneck I have ever met in my life. I will never understand why they made this man my godfather but I loved him. He had in his hands a creation of his own making that I can only call a Redneck Harpoon. It was an old mop handle,and duct-taped to the end was a broken off point from a wrought-iron fence.

I(teenage girl) followed the line of men to the outhouse. Apparently, there was a snake behind the men's urinal that scared one of the younger men. 3 grown men, WITH A HARPOON, for 1 snake. They let me go in and see it, and there's a 4ft corn snake striking and hissing, terrified. I managed to convince everyone that 1. It wasn't a cottonmouth, and 2. I could catch it. So they gave me the gloves and cleared out, and I grabbed this little creature with much less fanfare than they were expecting(he only struck at me once).

I brought out the toilet snake, no harpoon needed, and brought it around so all the kids could see it, then let it go in the woods nearby. Snakes are just little Guys. I would trade all 3 tools for a decent pair of workgloves. We have a few venomous water snakes here, but I could use the provided tools to deal with those.

STORY 2

When I was in 2-3rd grade, I was at my school in the summer with my grandma who taught there and several other teachers. Also at the school that day was a bat.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, they were doing some construction over the summer, drilling in the walls. Very Loudly. The teachers did not enjoy the sound of the drills. The bat ESPECIALLY did not like the drills. Every time they drilled, the bat would fly through the hallways in a panic. The teachers, all older women, liked the bat wayyy less than they liked the drills.

The second grade Weird Girl thought the bat was the coolest thing that had ever happened in the school. So I was in charge of running through the halls between the teachers, who wouldn't come out of their rooms, because bat. Sadly my efforts to catch the bat were unsuccessful, but I had a great time doing to the floor to avoid the flying bat in the hallways.

And for anyone thinking they could attach the bucket to the stick and catch the bat, you are wrong. Having helped catch two doves trapped in a 24ft garage, even with three people and the large pole net I keep in my car that was hard.

Here's a tough one:

You have to remove an animal from a room. Your equipment is a long stick, a bucket and a hoodie.

[howaboutcastiel-personal]

So like (10/15/24)

I have three episodes left of heartstopper and I’m trying to spread them out because I don’t want to be done with it yet, but I also need to be done with it for the sake of my mental health. Because me and Charlie aren’t the same and me and Tori aren’t the same but the show is still affecting me more than I want it too. I mean obviously it’s a comfort show, and Charlie is surrounded by support.

I’m not like him though. I think he’s one of those characters you can’t be mad at because he’s the ‘right’ kind of mentally ill. Not the fat and annoying kind who’s chronically physically ill too. And you get little bites of abusive parents or ignorant extended family, but everyone is safe in the show. It’s not like that??? I mean, my dad won’t kill me. It’s just that beatings were not unheard of and slurs are still used every day and I had to have a breather today because I had to do damage control because my alcoholic grandmother made the chili wrong and I can’t let her know that I fixed the problem, but if I didn’t fix it then dad would blow up.

It’s like all of these little things that come together to just be insane. I went back and forth for forever about whether they abused me or still do. It isn’t like that right now because I avoid them actively. Mom still is the responsible one. I resent her for not leaving him forever ago. But her idea of family isn’t any better? Even if she left him it would still be her side of the family. I don’t know. I’m just mad.

Like I can’t forgive them. Politically I can’t forgive them because it’s all conditional. They could never love me as much as parents are supposed to love a child. And it isn’t even that I think I deserve love, I just know they aren’t capable of any kind of meaningful care, and I want to be free of them. And I want to keep writing about the boys too. Cobb and Din and the problems they have that aren’t really like mine but at least I can pretend.

And I don’t want to be trans either? I want to just be happy with being cis. I hate having dysphoria and I hate being confused. Maybe it would be better off if I was like Charlie then? Like maybe I just should stop eating instead? I miss high school where I did that. I miss losing 20 pounds effortlessly and not feeling guilty about every single thing.

I keep sleeping too much and then being tired. I miss being on prednisone where at least I was awake. All I want to do now is go back to sleep. Go back to bed. Not get out of bed and not eat. If only my dreams were more bearable, too. Last night they were just stressful instead of horrifying and traumatic. They’re usually stressful, and I think they always will be? Dreams are supposed to be a little confusing anyway. I just want them to be quieter maybe. I want to rest.

But I’m withdrawing right now. My face hurts from being swelled up, and my stomach hurts and my appetite sucks. And I want to go to bed. My muscles are sore and I know these are all withdrawal symptoms but what do I even do about it? No one has sympathy. Mimi is so angry at the world too and her health is so bad. I don’t get why we all have to keep trying every day.

I think everyone just keeps up the effort for dad and papaw. Which is fucking moronic. They deserve it the fucking least of anyone ever. Papaw deserves nothing. Nothing. Dad deserves even less and I resent him. They’re racist and sexist and homophobic and transphobic and they don’t care for their family and they never have. And they don’t deserve a goddamn good thing in the world and I’m tired of their stupid faces.

That would go for Ethan too but I never see him. He doesn’t even respond to mom’s texts, but somehow I’m the fuck up kid. I don’t care anymore because I don’t even think about him anymore. It’s like I don’t even have a brother. I know my parents wish I was gone, too, but then who would do their fucking laundry?

[4evernerdyy]

I haven't written in so long. Oh so long. Writing is how I release so much. So, here I am.

I want to write again, and I'm going to. But first, I'm going to trauma dump some situations from the past decade. My mind needs fully cleared and refreshed.

The last time I was on Tumblr, my husband's ex made one right after me. I had tweeted about what blogging site was everyone's favorite, and Kristen Rose directed me to Tumblr.

Everyone who has ever known me knows, I have always loved reading and writing. I read Great Expectations FOR FUN at the age of 16 one summer on my papaw's porch. All my life growing up, I wanted to be an editor or photographer, but my family pressured me to try the medical field.

HEAR ME WHEN I SAY- I didn't get on Tumblr just because my husband's ex use to have one and then made one when I did. Do you know what "narc" it is to assume everything is about YOU? Take a look at me and my life- I've always been a reader and a writer, but I guess one can hope they're that significant to someone. Ha.

One thing an ex should probably realize and get over is that a man probably has an interest in two women because they most likely have SOMETHING in common- especially style. Food for thought, aka a commonsense course to begin the meal. Geeezz.

But that's just it- blogging and using Tumblr became a warzone. Idc what the ex says- she was in competition. I would get anon posts all the time degrading me to no end. I actually still have the emails where she sent me messages on Tumblr as herself when we first got together. No ex that sent me messages telling me how she felt about me and "her man" getting together is going to tell me she was never jealous. No "woman" that has ever messaged me and said "you don't know him like I do" is going to tell me she didn't feel some type of way about me. WHATEVER. Commonsense.

On top of the messages I was receiving, she was also writing blogs about me or degrading me on Facebook with memes and statuses (all of which I still have) that she didn't want to come out and directly act upon, so she thus deceives the masses with passive aggressiveness that she can manipulate. Like, how are you going to write blogs about a man's dick, write blogs about his new woman and her "childhood life", write that a woman has STDs that ajax can't wipe off, write blog after blog about someone and then call yourself a victim? I just can't. She acted like she had the right to say and do whatever tf she wanted just because he "cheated on her with me". Which, back to common sense, he "cheated" but homegirl wasn't upset, mad, or jealous to have started any kind of her own shit? SURE.

She also tried to write blogs about what a whore she thought I was since she tried telling everyone we had an affair to make herself an even bigger victim. He didn't cheat on her with me, but I'm telling you what- ask me today if I'd care if he had. Most of the people that would be judging me for that probably has 3 kids, a husband, a boyfriend, an OnlyFans, AND a Sugar Daddy to boot. But, anyway, according to her, he cheated, and she felt nothing. She's above that, I reckon.

She calls herself a victim because I was exposing her lies and wasn't nice about it. She probably shouldn't have been writing blogs about me. That's how that works. Especially lying about me in her blog. Yeah, sis. I corrected you. Called you a few names while I did it. What of it? She's grown. She acted how she acted. She talks about Karma all the time and how people get what they deserve while complaining all the time. Maybe she got what was lined up for her... Maybe she should consider that. Maybe all of this she's such a "victim to" she brought upon herself but the narc can't admit it.

Cause see, she's so narcistic and full of herself, she admits to nothing. No hand in any of it. She's just a victim to me. She acts like she wasn't the reason I sat in a shower once crying for hours and self harming. But hey, she'll answer to that when she gets to the gates. She can lie and deny it all she wants, I would too. I wouldn't want to admit to myself I made someone do that.

For ten years now, she has been posting blogs, statuses, or memes to degrade me or get the public to join in. She doesn't get to decide if what she does hurts someone or not. I get to decide that for me. Despite what she tells herself and others, she has been one hell of an ugly human being to me. If she really wanted me to stop, all she had to do was stop herself. But she didn't. Still hasn't. She feeds off the attention she gets when she whines.

Like, you don't get to get in a comment section on Facebook and write that I was "caught" peeping in your windows stalking you when I was literally born with cataracts and think you're not getting a clapback? Who does that? Again, where is commonsense? AND IT'S A HEFTY LIE TO SPREAD ON SOMEONE for someone who considers herself an innocent victim. I can't see in anyone's windows, bitches. HAHAHA. Check my medical record. For years I wasn't even allowed to drive at night and literally only got enough right on my driver's eye exam to barely pass. WTF?!?! Like everyone who has known me since birth and been around me hasn't literally watched me stuggle my whole life. The only people who would even consider this would be people who don't know me. But that's the point- attack my rep as much as possible since I'm a business owner. Cause trying to say I threatened to rape her and trying to get me on the sex offenders list didn't work for her. (Her daddy might be sheriff, but I can afford a lawyer who filed conflict of interest ;) haha ) She's crying I tried to ruin her reputation and bring her down. You know, because I was so jealous my husband "cheated" on her with me, left her, sold his assets to do IVF with me after MARRYING me..... makes perfect sense. Yet, she is the one who tried to VICIOUSLY attack her ex's wife's reputation to the next level, not me. 1+1=2.

Cause that's just it, it is a LIE. Literally have the paperwork where she took me to court. Never once did she tell them I was peeping in her windows. She did try telling them that I drove by her place of work, stopped in the road revving my engine at her, and she had a panic attack so bad they called her an ambulance to the 911 center where she was a dispatcher. We were in court, the time to prove it, and she had no proof. No ambulance bill. No witnesses. No video coverage from the 911 center. Because I'd also be stupid enough to harass someone at a 911 center. Good gravy. HAHAHAHA.

Jealously is a literal basic emotion. Every human has felt it and still does. Why tf are people so stupid that they eat her Facebook posts up where she is like, "I have never been able to understand jealously. I am only ever nice to people." Yeah, that's what I'd say too. Haha.

And let's talk about that jealously- She claims I "copied her" in everything she does. I was listening to rock and punk music, reading books and writing, and dying my hair colors long before I knew she existed. As far as cars, my husband literally owned a white 06' Subaru STI from 2006-2022. He bought me one to match, a 15' Subaru WRX. Two weeks later she ordered one and told everyone I was copying her. Sis, we had HIS AND HERS. I had mine FIRST. Actually, I had TWO before she had ONE. Somone mad? My husband bought a 2016 grey Tacoma. Two weeks later she was on Facebook right next to one. The dealership was posting her new grey Tacoma buy. Literally have the timestamps to this day. Just ask me. I'd love to show you. Am I jealous of her house? A simple Google search will tell me she lives on a very small plot of land vs the 5 acers I live on. A simple Google search will tell me I paid $55,000 more for my home that has double the square footage of hers. Let's talk about the fact that through the ten years of all of this, she's also had an engagement ring she claimed was the same brand as mine, but her "Vera" was missing that blue stone.. ;) It looked just like mine, and definitely came AFTER mine since she got with the dude well after I was married. Then, when I got a new one to *not* match her, so did she. I got married in 2012 in a black wedding dress with colorful hair on a holiday. About a decade later, she got married in a black wedding dress with colorful hair on a holiday... Again, not only do I have pictures, but they're also timestamped. Actually, I'd love for anyone at all to slide up and ask me about all the things she did AFTER me that are timestamped. Cause, I'm just not buying that I was reading her blogs and watching her Pinterest and "beating her to it". HAHAHAHA. Sis, how did I beat you to a ring and black wedding dress if you weren't in a relationship when I got engaged and married a whole ass decade before you? INSANITY.

She would literally write endless blogs about how I was obsessed with her and wanted to be her. She claimed in her blogs that my husband didn't love me, that he was abusive to me, and that he stalked her. Then, she claimed I stalked her too because he was so obsessed. Writing all that makes her so innocent, doesn't it? I wanted to be like the woman my husband supposedly cheated on?? I'm smarter than that. Nah, sis. I think you wanted to be more like the woman your ex cheated on you with, sweetie. Commonsense creeping up on us again...

Unfathomable that she claims she did nothing to hurt us or try to split our relationship/marriage up.

And honestly, I feel sorry for her. She has continuously written about my "childhood" and how I "grew up", so I assume she won't be mad at me for doing the same. Her mother is awful. Was awful to her. I know for a fact she compared her to me. It isn't really me she's mad at. It's her mom. But, her mom has her so codependent/narcissistically wrapped and warped that she can't escape her... So, I get blamed. She throws all her pain and suffering from her mother at me because she is too cowardly to face the real issue. I wish I could tell her I am sorry her momma told her I was better than her. I'm sure it was her messed up way of deterring her daughter from someone she didn't want her dating. Or so she says, says her mother and father never wanted her with Steven because he had drug addicts in his family and was oh so toxic.

And that's another story to all this- My husband and her had a massively toxic relationship. I still have all her blogs where she's written about him and her other ex from that time period. I have the Facebook comments she leaves under things where she now talks about how both her HS relationships were oh so toxic but none of them were bad people, they just weren't compatible. HAHA. Let's talk more commonsense again..

And here's something she might want to remember while posting she can't understand how people get online and try to "expose" and degrade others- she use to write online about Steven's poor sick mommy and how she couldn't take care of her home.. while she was with Steven. However, it is only everyone else in the wrong when they do things.

So, a person only knew toxic relationships and none of it was them. They just happened to find their self in these situations? No. I'm going to have to guess that if a relationship before Steven was toxic, then a relationship with him turned toxic as the result of a person not knowing much about relationships since they just kept repeating toxic ones that they could write attention blogs and posts about... We've all had to hear about how the man she's oh so happily married to now even abused her. We've had to hear all about the shadow work they've had to get to this paradise she pretends she's in now. BUTTTTT I'd say that's the part no one wants to talk about.

And still to this day the poor thing is like, "I AM A VICTIM OF TRACI ROBERTS BROWNING!!!!!" Literally to anyone that will listen. All this time later, crying over her ex from HS and his wife... Suppose to be happily married, moved on, and healed. But still posting.

And here is what I need everyone to understand- I don't regret what I did nor am I sorry for it nor do I feel shame about any of that. I know what has been said and done to me and what I've walked through. I have no regrets for not bowing down. I don't regret calling anyone names. I don't regret being mean through a world of pain I was suffering. Because there is so much more not discussed here. I've only discussed what was written or said about me, and even then I only wrote such a tiny fraction of it. I don't regret anyting because no one is sorry for my pain. My pain is DENIED. Have you ever had someone go to their profile and change every single picture caption to why they're better than you? It's not fun. If I said something back that hurt someone's feelings, oh well. Because still to this day she lies about having ever hurt me or causing me to harm myself.

Still to this day she makes posts.