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

[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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[ellograce]

“you can go back, but no one would be there anymore.”

i walk through the front door to my mothers house. it’s hot outside and the brand new air conditioning unit blasts me in the face. the first thing i notice are the family photos on the hallway wall in front of me. they showcase my mother and father who appear to still love each other.

those pictures aren’t there anymore, they were replaced by the ones of my brother and me after the divorce.

the living room is washed in yellow light from the lamp in the corner, my fathers leather recliner is no longer peeling with age. it is instead pristine, practically new. the table next to it has a coffee ring from where he watches his old westerns at night. i close my eyes and i can almost here john wayne’s voice.

he kept the recliner and still has it to this day, but just like him it is weathered and aged.

my mothers kitchen table is still old and has paint, marker, and just general little kid stains on it, as she hasn’t gotten the new one yet. my little nieces art work isn’t on the fridge, she hasn’t been born yet. i run my hand over the surface and feel the dried clumps of paint and knife scratches from almost 15 years of little ones spending their free time doodling on it.

i can hear my childhood dog, rosie, barking at something in the yard. the wind chimes which havent broke yet are soothingly swaying in the summer wind and as i look out the window i can see that she has a cat up a tree. oh how she adored to chase critters.

i make the journey to my room, at this point it is still being inhabited by my father because him and mother don’t sleep near each other anymore. the family photos on the walls are a lie. the room gives me too much anxiety, a bad feeling of what i fear to come.

when mom is not on a business trip she sleeps with me in the master bedroom. i recall the nights where i was all alone in that room, so young and frightened. the shadows casted heightened my anxiety. i obtained a habit of sleeping with the lights on that i still have to this day.

the large bay window across from the bed showcases a beautiful early September day. the grass is green, there is still a clothes line out back, and i almost expected to see my papaw doing some work out in his field. but he’s not here.

no one is here except me. the house is quiet and empty. no parents will come home from work, no friends to keep me company.

it’s time to go back now.

[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.

[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), Любимая (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!

[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.

[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. 

[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.

[candycandy00]

Here’s a small bouquet 🌻🌻🌻 (yes you *have* to tell me about 3 different things of your choice 😌👂)

Aww, a bouquet! 😊

Okay the first thing I wanna talk about is my late Papaw Curt. because he had a very colorful life. He died when I was 12 but I still remember him very vividly.

The thing about Papaw Curt is that he was extraordinarily unlucky and accident-prone. When he was a child in the 1910’s, someone thought it was a good idea to let him play with a pocket knife unsupervised. He ended up cutting himself in the eye, permanently blinding himself in that eye (and leaving it looking real gnarly). He suffered a ton of injuries and accidents in his youth, lots of broken bones and such, and then went to work in the coal mines as an adult. There he was buried under fallen rock, which wrecked his leg and left him with a severe limp and using a cane the rest of his life.

Then, I shit you not, this very unlucky accident-prone man decided to go work at a saw mill. Can you guess what happened? The poor fool ended up cutting off two of his fingers within a few weeks of getting the job.

Despite all this he was a kind, warm hearted, and extremely hard working man. He was dirt poor and owned no land, but the people he rented from let him use their big empty field to grow a garden. And no one could grow crops like he could. He had a gift for it, and he loved it. It was his passion in life.

Once in the 50’s, he was desperate to feed his family so he tried to turn a $2 money order into a $20 one. Of course he got caught and sent to prison for several months for it. But he talked about his time in prison like most people talk about going on a cruise. He said they had a huge farm that they let the inmates work on, so he got to spend all day doing what he loved. Apparently they were very sad to see him go, because their crops had never done so well before!

Okay the next thing I wanna talk about is a game. You might have already heard of it or played it. Boyfriend to Death. It’s completely free (just Google it) and even though I played it several years ago, parts of it are still stuck in my brain. In case you haven’t heard of it, it’s sort of like a dating sim, but more like a “survive a night with a violent, unhinged murderer” sim. You basically collect various gruesome deaths these men inflict on your character. There’s several guys (including a pair of brothers who will double team you if you make the right choices and my fave: the charming and nightmarish Strade) but they’re all monsters who will torture and murder you. The art varies from character to character (three different artists worked on it). There’s also a part 2 with even more nightmare men!

So the last thing I’ll talk about is my bedroom and how much I dread cleaning it up. I let it get messy during Christmas and just never cleaned it back up. There’s so much work to do! 😱 I have to clear some shelves to fit more figures, re wire all my electronics, change out some lights that stopped working, etc. It’s just a huge mess and it’s stressing me out. Gonna try to con my sister in law into helping me by targeting her weakness (I’m gonna buy her a cake and then ask her for help). Hopefully I can get it done before summer sets in!

[howaboutcastiel-personal]

Jan 26, 2025. 12:43 p.m. Sunday

I am getting through the episode but I want to die a lot today. And I haven’t eaten and don’t want to eat and Pico won’t stop barking but I can’t let him outside and I’m too tired to walk him again.

The scale said 191 but then it said 194 and honestly I don’t know how much I weigh anymore but I’m so sick and tired of feeling fat. And I haven’t wanted food but then that’s a lie I always want food because I’m a fat fuck. I want to go to bed and be asleep but I don’t want to dream.

I’m just angry. At Jeanna and Pat and Keith Huss and mom and dad and Ethan and Mimi and papaw. And Trump. And Vance. I just can’t stop being mad and my chest hurts and I accidentally started a stupid fucking fire and I know it’s my fault even though it was an accident and I’m just so ready to die. Like what if the fire was the thing that made me decide to die you know.

Mom and dad are so damn frustrated and of course they are. I can’t blame them. So am I and I’m the lazy one. I don’t even have to do anything hard. I don’t want to do ANYTHING. I don’t want to eat or sleep or be awake or shower. Why would I want to work or cook or clean or drive I don’t even want to write or draw or watch TV or play stupid little games. And I’m so goddamn tired I can’t stand it. I can’t stay awake and I feel guilty but why would I be awake I’m so useless anyway.

I know I need to eat right now. I always feel bad because I’m hungry but. I don’t want food. I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to deal with the dog even though I love him and I know he’s upset. I just don’t know how to help him except drive him home but then Mimi doesn’t want to see us anyway.

I screwed everyone and I fuck d up everything with that stupid house fire. I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t normally do but this time I set the kitchen on fire and now I fucked it all up and mom and dad don’t know how to be adults either and mom is too busy and I’m useless and lazy and I hate it.

And I hated my new therapist and I want to just die but what’s the point of even dying? What’s the point of giving them something else to grieve and letting them all win because I’ll be immortalized as the crazy useless one who killed itself. The failure forever and I’ll never be able to fix it. Nothing makes sense and nothing sparks joy and I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s all so stupid and I’m taking up space and I don’t want to anymore. I need to get out of everyone’s way and I guess find someone else who will actually love Pico because they say he’s taking up space too. I’m not the owner he deserves but then neither are they and everyone is broke.

[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.

[laurencodyblog]

Re-posted from 11/12/11

Fingerprints

I have no fingerprints left.

It all started a few weeks back on a Saturday when Alex and I went to hang out with his Papaw at an empty house he was working on by the lake. So Big Al and I went exploring in the back yard. That's where he made the discovery. Inside an old abandoned shed were lots of fishing poles and tackle, old rusted tools and empty gas cans. Over in a dark corner, Alex spotted something shiny sticking out of an old 5-gallon paint bucket.

His eyes got big as he went in for a closer look. I of course (being the watchful grandmother that I am) , gave the standard cautionary warnings of bugs, snakes and cobwebs. Alex wasn't even the slightest bit phased. The next thing I knew, he was pulling and tugging with all his might – the bucket out into the sunlight and dumped its contents on the ground for our inspection.

It was filled to overflowing of old, rusted out and tarnished pieces of brass and copper – that had no doubt spent the last many years tucked away in this dank, leaky shed. He and I took off on imaginary tales of how and who had collected these 'valuable treasures' (his words, certainly not mine). We were convinced that we had accidentally stumbled upon a pirates booty – or the remnants of a robber's art gallery heist – for sure. We had so much fun inventing possible scenarios and likely plots that the time got away from us. Before long, Papaw had finished his work and was ready to go. The truck was loaded and as Alex raced to re-pack his treasures and drag them to the truck, I knew he would have to convince Papaw that they were worth the effort to try and make room. I worried that all his begging and pleading would probably do no good because the truck was packed.

But as he presented his closing arguments to a hot and tired grandfather – we both saw the gleam in his eyes as he explained that he has always wanted to find something just like this. These were valuable and could be cleaned and polished up and be worth a lot of money. (So far, we weren't convinced). Then he explained holding up a bent copper fondue pot – “I've always wanted to give something like this to my mom. Something I got on my own – that no one else bought for me to give her. She collects copper, and I know she would just love this!”

He was right. She would love this. She would love that he would bravely search a dark spider-filled shed on the slight possibility that he could find something nice for her. And she would love that when he did find 'treasure' his very first thought was how much his mother would enjoy it. She would love and cherish that pot to her last breath...

So fast forward a few weeks to a copper / brass cleaning and polishing Saturday appointment with Alex and Nonna. Of course, I couldn't let him do it, because of the chemicals – so I agreed to do my best. About 6 hours later – a back aching, nails ruined – fingerprints missing Nonna presented a shiny, copper fondue pot. It is still bent, and of course still has some bad spots on it, but when he sees it, his eyes light up and a snaggle toothed grin explodes across his face.

“I knew it would be beautiful!” He says, looking it over.

“All my life, I've wanted to give her something like this.....”

Well, now he finally gets to.

I'm still a little nauseous and completely exhausted. I'm not sure my fingers will recover – and I'm entirely sure my fingernails won't. My whole Saturday is gone, my back hurts and I had so many other things that needed tending to today...

But nothing quite as important as looking at his beaming face and hearing the excitement in his voice when he told me he's found a treasure he's been looking for all his life.

Now that's ironic.

Because I've spent the last half hour telling you about the treasure I've been looking for all my life.

He has blue eyes and a snaggle toothed grin.

Lauren Cody

11/12/11

[dear-papaw]

Dear papaw,

It’s been a while.

I know. And I’m sorry.

A lot has happened and I’ve struggled so much through it all. I lost my job.

However, mamaw tells me that maybe I lost it for a reason. I’ve been taking her to her appointments and such that she needs to go to. She got some injections in her back. She seems okay. She says she’s still in pain though. But she also hasn’t had any pain medicine for a few days now and has been sick with a stomach bug as well. So we’ll see when she starts feeling better how she really is.

I guess god knew something I didn’t with that job.. because in the end, I found out that I couldn’t trust my boss like I thought I could. I also feel like he knew that I just needed a minute to get my head right after everything.

Next month, it will be 6 months without you. Six months of living life without you.

I sit and watch all of your old favorite movies and tv shows.. hoping that wherever you are on the other side.. you’re sitting with me and watching and laughing too.

On Saturday we all went to lunch with Diego’s family. It brought memories of when yall used to go to dinners with grandpa.

Oooo, David is up there with you now. I hope that reunion was a happy one for everyone.

I still remember my dream that I had of you. And what you told me. I can’t wait for that day to come.

I love you forever.

[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

[blissfullybloomed]

“The music is all around us. All you have to do is listen”- Freddy Highmore, August Rush

Good Morning beautiful people! Everyone loves music….yeah, actually everyone. 

Isn't it the coolest thing when you can find people that listen to the same type of music as you do?

When one person enjoys jazz(my papaw), one enjoys electronic dance music(YALL), one or two enjoy native american flute music(my spa peeps), and some more enjoy Simon & Garfunkel(my old-er peeps.) That's when you see  the universal language of music has now brought together different cultures, ideas, and personalities. 

Music has been around since the dawn of time. It's also evolutionary….Just like we are. We as humans evolve into different versions of ourselves as we grow and mature into adults. Our musical preferences change and grow too. I can't imagine you were listening to Buddy Bolden(African-American jazz pioneer from New Orleans), when you were five years old. If you were…you had some dope parents! Your parents and your surroundings subjected you to different types of music, people and places. You know what's cool though? When you find someone else who also listens to Buddy Bolden…and knows his history- you now have a new friend. 

I have curated sooooo many relationships over music. I once fell in love with someone from Sweden over music….it's an entire feeling yall. He had music I had never heard before, and we bonded over that. Still friends to this day!  When you find the music that takes your breath away, and makes the hair on your neck stand up….that's magic. That's love in my opinion. And yeah…music makes me extremely emotional when it hits right. 

I was in a band (YEAH- Im a total band geek through and through) for eight years. I remember they came in during 5th grade and asked us to try and make noise through all these brass instruments….Im not a brass person…LOL. I found my home with the clarinet. I think I was the 6th generation clarinet player? Fam…help me out with that one. No clue…but the clarinet is cool…I still have a hard time “hearing the beat” when reading music for the first time ....but once I hear the tune, I'm golden. Someone has to play the tune for me to hear….communicating musically…universal language. Music is the best. 

Music has let me live through a lot of trauma in my life as well. I'm sure several of you reading this know exactly what I'm talking about here. If you dont…next time you feel happy, play a sad song…see what happens. Your entire mood shifts. Your brain was like….uhm, HALP! 

This is also where this blog may offend you….hang in with me…

I remember being young in church, standing proudly and singing with my gran and papaw to songs like, “ How Great Thou Art”, and I would secretly stop singing so I could hear them sing together. It is still to this day one of my favorite church memories. Papaw's voice is super deep like the ocean, and gran…your voice is honestly angelic. You two are incredible people. Love you very much. I haven't been to church, or listened to any type of that musical genre since I was young. 

I remember riding to the campground in Bellefontaine,Ohio listening to the emo punk rock band,  My Chemical Romance,  with a friend. We didn't listen to it quietly either. We also were not sober when we would listen to it….at the time…I thought that was the best part. Not being sober, and being able to “lose “ myself in music. I didn't want to be in reality at that time of my life ...loud music got me through though…and so did my friend. Unfortunately, we fell out permanently. We had different paths, and that's okay. In hindsight, we both had each other …through one of the hardest, and unimaginable times in both our lives. Still a universal language, and musical communication. 

I remember hearing a man sing Disney songs in his truck- because he couldn't have know Disney music! I later married that man. He introduced me to Boyce Avenue(cover band), Journey….whew…this one is hard. Damn, I said two sentences, and I forgot how to type.

You got it Vic, keep moving. 

 I remember him acting an absolute idiot singing AeroSmith. This person is now my ex-husband. I fell in love with him over Disney music. The reason…my favorite childhood memory is watching Little Mermaid over and over again until the VHS Tape couldn't play anymore. He knew every word to not just Little Mermaid…all of em. He was a disney fanatic too.  That was all it took for me...I'm not sure he even knows that. I am very thankful for that small gift of musical communication…it united us. We are still supportive friends to this very day. Love you dude. Thank you. 

All of these musical memories have history, language, love, rage and vulnerability attached to them.

Each one a catalyst to the other in my own personal timeline. 

Each is a universal language that someone else understood during a time. 

In closing, music has saved my life more than once. Well cats too, but we aint talking about them yet. If you ever find yourself in the deepest depths of yourself and you feel like you can't claw your way out…try music. Just try it …see if it speaks to you. 

I bet it will. 

“La música es hermosa”

“Muzyka jest piekna”

“Muziki ni mzuri”

Yeah…its spanish, polish, and Swahili….get some education! I'm kidding of course…but while you're still here…go look up some polish music ….it's the coolest! 

Peace!