#primarily maple

[thewordisbond]

Smyles Shares "Forever, Forever, Ever" Instrumental From 'Primarily, Maple' LP

Posted on https://www.thewordisbond.com/smyles-shares-forever-forever-ever-instrumental-from-primarily-maple-lp/

Smyles Shares "Forever, Forever, Ever" Instrumental From 'Primarily, Maple' LP

Music producer Smyles unveils the final record from his album ‘Primarily, Maple.’ The single (instrumental) “Forever, Forever, Ever” entertains with samples from Outkast and J-Dilla. Smyles shows off his mastered skillset for combining nostalgic arrangements with instrumental soundsc

[lunar-racing]

The commentators were annoying tho ngl. I zoned out everytime they spoke unless it was them saying how the devils or the leafs were abt to score

[elainemorisi]

due to Circumstances, I now have a persimmon seedling and a quince tree, and I am pretty enthused about this

[musicarenagh]

Meet the Magic of Smyles' "Primarily, Maple" [embed]https://open.spotify.com/album/6qxTfwbdNRFa63LRuyjg9S[/embed] Smyles is a producer, rapper, and singer from United States, DC. He combines retro soul, funk, and a mix of hip hop in his music, while also playing classical musi. Smyles started producing as a hobby, but quickly developed a serious passion for the craft. He has drawn influence from some of music’s greatest, including Kanye West, Frank Ocean, The Beatles, Nas, David Bowie, Prince, Michael Jackson, OutKast, and Silk Sonic. His work is further shaped by his love of films, with Midnight Cowboy, Shaft, and Saturday Night Fever among his favorite films. Currently, he’s out with a new album titled “Primarily, Maple”. Bringing classic instrumentation, discotheque styling, a groovy funk vibe, and classic sounds, Smyles crafts an enjoyable listening experience. All of the songs are dance-centric and the melodies groove. Every single track on the album brings something new and exciting giving listeners a variety of sounds from each song. Smyles has had mostly positive reviews on all his releases so far, and this one looks to be no different. This album is like an homage or celebration to the classic sounds and vibes that made music so great. No matter what type of music you're in to, you are sure to find something on this album to your liking. Smyles’ album “Primarily, Maple” is an utterly delightful listen that captures the vintage groove of disco funk in all its glory. This album is a masterclass on how to make bouncy, head-nodding music that feels both dynamic and laid back. As soon as you kick things off with the shimmering opener "Not A Soul (Can Touch Me)", you’re instantly transported to the glitziest dancefloor of the 70s. The instrumental sections are cut through with jazzy brass and bubbly pianos, all of which provide a neat backdrop for the layer of driving rhythms that make this album so unique. The same funky vibes are evident throughout, but the real beauty of “Primarily, Maple” is that even at its most upbeat, the entire collection feels incredibly relaxing. The songs make use of soulful horns, dreamy synths, and gentle vocal samples to create a calming atmosphere that clashes wonderfully with the upbeat grooves that pulse beneath it all. All in all, "Primarily, Maple" is a fun and enjoyable album from Smyles, with a range of instruments and styles bringing classic sounds into the modern age. If you're a fan of classic sounds and music, this album is definitely worth a listen. Follow Smyles on Bandcamp, YouTube and Instagram

[bwlkins]

Crowley's newspaper

Maple lane post box becomes home to spider species not seen in 45 years

Job 8:13-15 So is the end of everyone who forgets God, and so shall the hope of the godless perish. His confidence is but a gossamer thread, his trust is a spider’s house. He shall lean upon his house, but it shall not stand; he shall cling to it, but it shall not endure.

A spider’s house represents the shakiness, the uncertainty of someone's position when they live without God.

The newspaper depicts the exact same post box as the one next to which Aziraphale finished his conversation with the Metatron by departing with the "good news".

That may be a reference to Crowley's uncertainty:

But also, Crowley loses his home in Episode 1. And in Episode 6, Aziraphale loses his home as well.

That makes sense, but why the post box? I think it's their new home for now, their pillar to replace the one they lost.

They're not talking. They don't get a chance to talk. But LETTERS.

And then there's the maple.

Zacchaeus was a little man, and wanted to see Jesus, so he climbed a sycamore tree. Jesus looked up and said, “Hurry down, Zacchaeus, because I must stay in your house today.” The people started grumbling because Jesus was going to the home of a sinner.

He is known primarily for his faith in climbing a sycamore tree to see Jesus and also his generosity in giving away half of all he possessed.

The sycamore tree symbolises regeneration, a reference to someone who is spiritually reborn. Zacchaeus' regenerated heart caused him to make restitution and change his life in Jericho. The sycamore tree symbolizes the power of seeking spiritual enlightenment and the potential for personal transformation.

[tsublue]

Unpopular asteroids in ASTROLOGY

[Always mostly recommend using Astrodienst to look up the asteroids if you don’t know where xx.]

[Also my asteroids finding post is here]

• California - 341

where you lead groups of liberal people; associated with being unoffended by alternative power relations and, relatedly alternative sexuality - Overall a field where you feel yourself as a leader and no one and nothing can hold you back from it. Like you have a strong magnet to that source - (Especially powerful if it’s placed in a fire sign) Would be really cool to know all of yours, mine is in Leo.

• Achilles - 588

Where you can accomplish great things, but only with the help of someone else.

• Adelinda - 229

Where you are more likely to hesitate or proceed this topic carefully.

• Mireille - 594

Where you are welcomed and respected for, primarily in your profession.

• Botolphia - 741

Where you easily attract women or feminine elements.

• Brigitta - 450

How you use your home; as a role in your life.

• Brixia - 521

Realm where you resist others advice and sticking strongly to your own instead.

• Burgundia - 374

Where you have a style that influences others significantly.

• Cheruskia - 568

Where you can do no wrong in the eyes of the public.

• Chlosinde - 938

Where you demonstrate high charisma or attractive qualities.

• Eichsfeldia - 442

Where despite your talent, those near you must clean up the messed you’ve made.

• Ekard - 694

Where you make an ideal social example.

• Kordula - 940

Where you are associated with high status surroundings.

• Kovacia - 867

Where your wishes will be satisfied no matter what.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This post is a bit short, but hopefully still helpful!

I’ve had this song stuck in my head for couple of days now~

Hope you have an amazing month!

Always love, Tsunami

[wc-confessions]

re: WC misogyny

This is solely to get my thoughts out abt this bc I’m probably not gonna be able to articulate this to the best of my ability but I feel like it’s incredibly important to say that these books are pretty damn misogynistic and so was the fanbase for the longest time.

Not saying that to be "throwing the word around without knowing what the word means", because misogyny is defined as a dislike/contempt against women. This can also absolutely be an unconscious bias (which is primarily what I see anyway!) I've seen far more people dismiss these characters while holding up male ones that do similar/worse things (i.e. Thistleclaw primarily but a lot of the MV characters to an extent)

The reason why discussion about sexism usually ends up against cats like Mapleshade, Squirrelflight, Frecklewish, and Nightcloud is primarily due to how the universe of the books is written to chastise these characters while their male counterparts go thru barely half of the shit thrown onto the girls.

Mapleshade gets her kids and herself exiled for breaking the code while Appledusk literally gets a slap on the wrist for breaking the same code she did? The Riverclan leader just tells him "well, you'll not do it again so you don't need to be punished" while Mapleshade doesn't even get to bury her kits. Even if she's the Warrior Cats evil woman that's still really fucked up!? And this goes to Frecklewish as well, who does not watch them drown oh my god. The flood that kills Maple's kits is incredibly loud--saying Freckle would have been able to do anything else OTHER than watch dismisses the fact going to the flooded stones was an idea doomed to fail (of which Mapleshade has a lot of in MV specifically.)

Frecklewish absolutely ended up in the Dark Forest over Oakstar or Ravenwing (who both condemned the kittens to their fate instead of?? idk punishing Maple and not the kits who didn't even know they were half clan?) because of the way the fandom perceived her at the time. Freckle's a lot like Squirrelflight where fandom opinion only recently shifted to people defending those characters--she's pretty awful for calling the same kits she doted on half-clan creatures! But I don't think she deserved to go to cat hell forever when the cat who actually caused those kittens to end up dead (and every other cat in MV!) ends up in Starclan without even so much of a trial.

Speaking of trials--Squirrelflight and Leafpool literally end up almost being sent to CAT HELL for following Starclan's orders. Leafpool ends up having forbidden kits but Starclan goes "it's okay!" until it isn't. Brambleclaw almost being involved in Firestar's fox trap murder never gets mentioned or brought up while both of the girls are questioned about if they even belong in Starclan because they "broke the code and lied"?? There's a pretty damn big bias towards the toms for doing bad/worse actions but Bramble never went to Starclan and had his ticket for heaven almost revoked. Oakstar didn't get put in the Dark Forest because he exiled 3 innocent kits.

I think it's important to note the fandom has a lot of say over how characters like these get interpreted (which is why Nightcloud ended up being hated a lot despite the fact Crowfeather is just. actually abusive to Breezepelt.) That's why I brought up unconscious biases, because I think generally a lot of WC content creators tend to stick to presenting the stories in a more radical/black and white way.

I think the discussion really should be that the books and the stories ARE pretty misogynistic but unconsciously so? A lot of the story beats I mentioned weren't written by just one person, and the Erins have different opinions on these cats than the fans do. That's not me stating an opinion, that's just me saying recognizing that it's very male-oriented IS an issue these books have.

Anyways this got way too wordy, Ashfur is one of my favorite villains so I don't even know why I typed all of this up /j.

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

CHICKENS!!

This 2021 engraving of a chicken threesome is aptly entitled Wary Optimism by Pennsylvania wood engraver and letterpress printer Andrew M. Moroz. Moroz is a member of the national American wood engravers society, the Wood Engravers' Network (WEN). This print appears in the catalog for the WEN Fourth Triennial Exhibition 2020-2022, juried by two of my Wisconsin colleagues, Tracy Honn, retired long-time director of the Silver Buckle Press (Madison), and Jim Moran, recently-retired Master Printer and Collections Officer at the Hamilton Wood Type and Printing Museum (Two Rivers). On wood engraving, Andrew Moroz writes:

Attracted by the liveliness of the marks and the degree of fineness the tools produce, I enjoy the methodical process of engraving with burins on the end-grain of maple. Subject matter draws from personal experience and interests, but is concerned primarily with a search for imagery that has universally held meaning.

Reflecting on jurying this show during the pandemic period, Tracy Honn writes:

I discovered my understanding of the work had changed because the world was reoriented. Thinking about the Wood Engravers Network helped remind me of the extra in the ordinary. . . . The current disruptions of life-as-we-knew-it happened abruptly and nearly simultaneously. It is the all-at-onceness of this crisis that reveals the black and white of our days. In the midst of a pandemic . . . we create places of safety through our imagination and activities of comfort. This is what wood engravers do all the time.

I am excited and deeply honored to serve as the juror for the Fifth Triennial Exhibition of the Wood Engravers' Network, 2022-2024!

View more engravings by members of the Wood Engraver's Network.

View more posts with wood engravings!

View more posts with CHICKENS!!

-- MAX, Head, Special Collections

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

Some things I’ve been thinking about. At times being an American trad witch is incredibly frustrating and at others it’s absolutely exhilarating, rewarding. Reconnecting with my ancestral ( primarily french and scottish ) lore, magical practices, witchcraft etc has and will continue to inform my practice but I’ll never be a “french” witch. I’ll never be a “scottish” witch. I can find a lone hawthorn or a sacred tree guarding a hidden spring to tie the cloutie to, I can divine via a snail’s mucus trail, Fly to the Sabbath to meet The Abbess, heed the Dame Blanches, pluck the golden bloom with songs to St Columba, safeguard me and mine via silver, spring water and juniper. Yet there’s many things I’ll never know or be able to do. Whether that’s because these things are so tied to the land or a specific place, language barriers, ( working to overcome this one ) or due to the ( well warranted) gate keeping of lore and practices.

This used to be a source of great confusion for me. I think because I was afraid( due to my previous new age fuckwittery ) to experiment, do anything other than what I understood as “traditional”. My understanding being too rigid at the time; the pendulum swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. This delayed my progress and “froze” me. I was left wondering what an “American” trad craft would look like; most our books do come from a European POV. Learning of our own magical traditions as well as those of my Canadian family ( still working on that one haha ) helped. Reading Robin Kimmere helped. Reading Schulke, him being an American and writing on American plants, helped too. I’ve come to know Sugar Maple and Plantain as powerful spirits. Both teaching important lessons on how to rectify my ancestors mistakes, to foster relations with the First Peoples and how to incorporate the magic of this land into my craft. Rather than being frustrated by my being American I see it as a challenge now. I get to explore spirits, plants, places, animals, spiritual/physical ecologies ( is even really a difference between these?) completely unknown to my ancestors. I get to reconcile the old and the new. To learn from Spirit Direct. Tradition isn’t the worship of ashes, it’s the preservation of Fire. New wood must be added to keep The Fire burning. The Devil of this land certainly is a spirit of the unknown.

I am the land, the land is me.

I don’t own it, to it I owe all.

To it my body will return, the tithe paid.

I’m not rolling hills of heather, white chalk cliffs, the monk’s island nor the azure coast. The memories of these places echo distantly in my blood, sung alive by my ancestors shades. Part of me they’ll always be; yet it’s not who I am. Not what I am.

I’m craggy shores, dull-jade waves bearing down upon the tired rocks. I am musky pine forests veiled in mist. Sun-venerating oaks hugging the shoreline. Bleeding alders in damp ground swelling. Proud maples sustaining generation upon generation with their boiled blood. Death-grey clay, exposed by running spring.

I am the kudzu, the itching moth, the knotweed, the Norway maple, the ivy wrecking havoc upon the land. My surname and light skin proof of a genocide ongoing. I am my ancestors sins; the specter of the Old Growth forests, their grief hanging over the land like a fog. Every interaction with The Land tinged with sadness, loss.

I am my maternal side’s copper curls. Melusine’s pride. Ave Landry! Ave Gauthier! Forebears mine.

I am my paternal side’s grief. The end result of decades of cultural warfare. The Jesuits stole our name….my hair will not be cut.

Never will I libate these glacier carved valleys with booze.

I am the plantain, learning a kinder way. The sumac reclaiming the orchard.

My Februarys, my Marches aren’t snow drops and daffodils peaking through the frozen ground. They’re steely skies and walls of sleet. Bloodroot heralds winters wane; not Brigid’s flower.

My June isn’t fields of poppies, it’s seas of crimson staghorn blooms skyward reaching.

My augusts aren’t golden shafts of wheat, swaying in summer’s last breaths; they’re explosions of neon-violet and honey-yellow. Corn ripening on the vine, supporting the climbing bean. The cicadas song reverberating.

Old Michaelmas marks harvest’s end, October potatoes long buried in soils darkness finally exhumed. The Devil his Rosy Briar to ascend and plunge.

With Novembers first snows the Dead come in.

I’ll never process around a standing stone nor know what it is to live and eat off the land my dead lay in. Finally, I’m learning to be at peace with this. To love and know the land I live on. I’ll always be a stranger here, a guest. I hope to be a good one.

[talonabraxas]

Zadakiel, Archangel of Jupiter ♃ Talon Abraxas

Archangel Sachiel, also known as Zadkiel, is revered as the archangel of Thursday (Jupiter) and the Sixth Heaven (Zebul). Known as “The Righteousness of God,” Sachiel embodies qualities of benevolence, mercy, and memory. He is associated with Jupiter, the planet of expansion, growth, and abundance, underscoring his role as a bestower of blessings and good fortune.

Sachiel played a significant role in religious texts, such as preventing Abraham from sacrificing his son Isaac. He serves as a chief aid to Michael during battles and presides over the celestial Temple and the angelic choirs in the sixth heaven. As a divine messenger, Sachiel encourages individuals to align their actions with principles of righteousness, mercy, and integrity.

The Role of Archangel Sachiel in Religious Texts

In iconography, Sachiel is often depicted holding a scroll or book, symbolizing his connection to knowledge and divine law. He is also shown with a merciful expression, reflecting his role as a compassionate intercessor and advocate for humanity. Sachiel’s connection to Jupiter highlights his expansive energy and the wisdom he imparts to those who seek his guidance.

How and Why People Pray to Archangel Sachiel

People invoke Archangel Sachiel for various reasons, primarily seeking abundance, wisdom, and spiritual growth. Here are some common reasons why individuals pray to Sachiel:

Abundance and Prosperity: Sachiel is called upon to attract blessings, good fortune, and the fulfillment of righteous desires.

Wisdom and Knowledge: Individuals seek Sachiel’s guidance in understanding divine laws, expanding their knowledge, and cultivating a generous and compassionate spirit.

Spiritual Growth: Sachiel aids in personal growth and spiritual development, helping individuals align with higher learning and spiritual understanding.

Offerings and Correspondences

Offerings

Incense: Cedar, pine, sage, cinnamon, nutmeg, clove — Aromatic woods and spices associated with Jupiter’s expansive and purifying energy.

Foods and Items: Traditionally, animals and foods associated with life-giving power. In modern times, this can be symbolically represented by eggs and wheat.

Correspondences

Gemstones: Amethyst, lapis lazuli, sapphire — These blue and purple stones resonate with Jupiter’s regal and spiritual qualities.

Plants: Oak, fig, maple, sage, purple flowers — Trees and plants linked to growth, wisdom, and nobility are sacred to Jupiter.

Symbols: Thunderbolt, eagle, oak tree, royal purple, scales of justice — Representing Jupiter’s dominion over wisdom, sovereignty, and divine law.

Metals: Tin — This malleable and lustrous metal corresponds to Jupiter’s association with expansion and abundance.

Ritual Timing: Thursdays, during the day, during Jupiter’s astrological hour or election.

Colors Associated with Sachiel

Royal Blue: The rich, vibrant blue of the daytime sky is closely linked to Jupiter’s expansive and uplifting energy.

Purple: The majestic color of royalty and spiritual attainment aligns with Sachiel’s regal status and divine wisdom.

Gold: The warm, radiant glow of gold represents Jupiter’s solar and generous qualities, as well as its association with fortune and success.

Conclusion Archangel Sachiel is a powerful ally for those seeking abundance, wisdom, and spiritual growth. His expansive and benevolent nature lends power to workings seeking prosperity and good fortune. Whether you are looking to expand your knowledge, attract blessings, or grow spiritually, Sachiel’s guidance and support are invaluable. Approach Sachiel with an open heart and mind to fully embrace his transformative energy.

[forty-five-shots]

Identity Headcanons

For Sallyface

By the way, these Headcanons include queer, race, etc mentions so like if you’re homophobic or get weird about race headcanons reminder to not be on my blog or this post.

🎧: Sal Fisher

I’ve already said this but any trans identity

He/They: Transmasc

He/they/she: Genderfluid

She/her: Transfem

They/them: Enby

Pansexual 🏳️‍🌈

Mixed race, white and black.

- His hair is naturally curly but the longer it is the more loose his curls look

- Also didn’t start taking care of his hair until he was an adult

🐈‍⬛ : Ashley Campbell

Transfem Ashley Campbell

She/Her pronouns

Bisexual (And I want so badly to say t4t)

Latina and so is her family

- Her grandma and Mom immigrated to America and her father was born in Nockfell

- Her mother knows certain English but her grandmother knows very little, often times Ashley is a translator for her

🧪: Todd Morrison

Enby Todd Morrison (on the Enby spectrum)

He/They pronouns and if it was more modern day I’d even say he uses Xenos.

(I also adore trans masc Todd content)

Canonically gay but I’m gonna add to that. They’re Asexual ‼️

White Jewish

- His parents are Jewish as well

- I don’t have a ton to say about this one and Im starting to think it’s actually canon

🍃💨 : Larry Johnson

Trans male or cis male Larry Johnson

He/him pronouns

Bisexual or Biromantic (I have a small AroAce headcanon. Idk why but it won’t go away)

Arabic and Latino Larry

- Mother is Latin and father was Arabic

- Multilingual, when he was young he primarily spoke Spanish and Arabic but learned English in school

⛪️ : Travis Phelps

Cis male Travis Phelps

He/him with no knowledge on pronouns

Under the Ace umbrella and gay

Native American and white

- His mother was native and his father is white

- knows little to nothing about his mothers culture because his father didn’t tell him much and demonized what he was told

🎮 : I’m gonna make another one of these for Henry, Lisa, Chug, Maple, Neil, etc later

[aroaceleovaldez]

I’ve seen quite a few people discuss TSATS specifically in the manner that it’s supposed to be a middle-grade book, and I’d like to throw my two cents into the hat.

Particularly, I don’t think it’s reasonable to excuse the failings of TSATS just because it’s supposed a middle-grade book. The failings of the book are primarily structural, both narratively and just in basic writing structure, neither of which are excusable of a middle-grade novel - Especially given this is Mark Oshiro’s first major foray into middle-grade, as they typically write YA. It also seems that TSATS’ rating is actually upper middle-grade, so there’s even less excuse for the quality of the book. The problem isn’t that the book is bad to a non-middle-grade reader, or even bad as a middle-grade book, the problem is that the book is bad in general. So much of the book’s quality and execution feels just so poor in ways that you would typically expect to get caught very early on by the editorial team. Being middle-grade doesn’t excuse it being structurally bad for any reading level. It feels like the editorial team didn’t care about the quality of the book at all. There’s an unreasonable amount of places where the sentence and paragraph structures are poor, the writing is unclear, there’s basic continuity errors within the same sentence, the pacing is bad, and an overall lack of grammatical consistency (you can actually tell which portions of the book are written by Rick Riordan versus Mark Oshiro based purely on the use of s’ or s’s - if you see something like “Hades’s palace“ then it’s Riordan, and if it’s something like “Hades’ palace” then it’s Oshiro - this type of inconsistency should have been made consistent by the editing team).

The book also completely fumbles its attempts at handling its intended themes with any kind of grace or respect to the reader. TSATS being middle-grade (particularly upper middle-grade) doesn’t mean it can’t feature heavy themes, or that it has to dumb them down for a younger audience! I speak as someone who is extremely familiar with the Animorphs series - which is actually lower middle-grade. It’s basically like the poster-child for presenting complex themes and ideas appropriately in a middle-grade series. The way middle-grade is formatted is it’s about the writing structure (how simplified vs complex it is and so how easy is it for a middle-grade reader to understand) and how the concepts are presented, not about the actual concepts themselves. Animorphs is a really good example of this in that most of the books are less than 300 pages and the language is very simple. However, it doesn’t shy away from strong topics or dumb concepts down for the audience. It balances heavy topics with jokes in stride (see: The entire book about psychochemical warfare and the ethics of that, but the psychochemical warfare in question is dumping instant maple and ginger oatmeal on space slugs). And a lot of Animorphs books are actually ghostwritten! I would also argue the Warrior Cats books are another good example, particularly the novellas. They’re a similar length to TSATS, again written by a team of authors, are middle-grade rated, and don’t shy away from some pretty graphic stuff. They’re not the best books in the world, I mean, they’re rapidly churned out cat books for middle-schoolers. And they also tend to be full of errors. But at the very least most of the errors in the Warrior cat novellas aren’t basic structural stuff that you’d expect an editor to comb out within the first couple of passes or major basic details for a very prominent character or worldbuilding. Something equivalent to the types of errors in TSATS would be like a warrior cats novella about Brightheart not remembering how she got her scars or who Swiftpaw was or what Shadowclan is called, and every three chapters you read the jankiest sentence you’ve ever seen.

There are absolutely ways for the types of themes they were trying to handle in TSATS to be presented to a middle-grade audience appropriately, effectively, and with respect. TSATS was not even close to that. Again, I point to Animorphs! You wanna talk about writing PTSD for a middle-grade audience? Animorphs is your series. Animorphs gets into some heavy shit. But the way it’s presented is always appropriate for a middle-grade audience. Middle schoolers can handle more than people give them credit for (have you ever read middle-schoolers roleplaying warrior cats? I have. they do not hold back.) - they’re at the exact age where that type of stuff is not only interesting to them and they want to read about it, but that it’s important for them to begin to be introduced to those types of concepts in a way that’s appropriate for their age so that they’re prepared for when they encounter those topics or themes when they’re older.

The first Percy Jackson series actually does this really well! Percy has PTSD in the first book from Gabe! This is very clearly acknowledged and referenced throughout the first series (and even into Son of Neptune!) - and it’s specifically from Gabe, not being a demigod. We see characters grapple with grief and witnessing death and being in shock from that (the “dam” scene post-Bianca’s death, and the explicit acknowledgement that all the characters are so emotionally exhausted and harrowed from witnessing Bianca sacrifice herself for them that they get all giggly over stupid “dam” jokes). TSATS refuses to allow any emotional pay-off from the scenes. The Gorgyra interludes are the only thing keeping the pacing from being absolutely abhorred for half the book. There’s tons of narrative set-up that goes nowhere. There’s sentences that are so disjointed you wonder how they got written in the first place. This book shouldn’t have gotten past the editors, honestly.

[ellecdc]

forgive my patriotism

but since you live in Canada do you know French? or like is French apart of the culture there bc that’s like a stereotype I learned

that and maple syrup

noooooo not the patriotism

I don't ~know~ French; I took French for six years growing up but I know like, bare minimum conversational French. We technically have two official languages in the country (English and French), but the only province that is truly bilingual is New Brunswick. Like, you need to be fluent in both languages to work at McDonalds sort of dealies (my heroes).

So I would go as far to say that most people born in Canada aren't fluent in French (quick google search told me only 22.8% of the population speaks French lol)

Quebec is pretty much primarily French, and there are a lot of Acadian communities in Atlantic Canada that speak French as well.

And I feel like maple syrup isn't as big a deal as people make it out to be? In elementary school we'd go to the sugarbush's (where maple syrup is harvested) and they'd pour the hot syrup into the snow on a popsicle stick which hardened it into like a lollipop lol so that was always fun. But now it's just something you put on pancakes/waffles 🤷🏻‍♀️

[whinnyornot]

This was the seventh (and last) of my revamped Whinfell designs. 🐎✨ Originally posted on my alt instagram account.

Meet the Azahar Whinfell. 🌻 AGAIN, PLEASE NOTE: I made these BEFORE SSO released the Nemain (magic halloween shire).

The name Azahar means orange blossom in Spanish. It is derived from the Arabic word, زهرة (zahrah) meaning "flower." I opted to keep the same theme for all of the whinfells when I first started discussing the remake. I had an idea to maybe change the mane style for this guy to make it stand out among the rest but that was voted against by my clubmates. I still wanted it to give off Halloween/Autumn themes though, so I really tried to lean into making it fiery and fall colored. The moth we chose even ended up being one that is primarily active in the fall so it was a great fit. In the end the less overly saturated color option won out in the voting process, but it was still such a super fun challenge to tackle. Lore:

"The Azahar Whinfell makes its home in deciduous temperate forests where it feeds on lichen and moss. It is much more active in the autumnal months as it's orange and red coat blends in with the surrounding foliage during this time. However, one may have the rare chance to find it during the summer hanging around Cappadocian and Red maple trees. They also adore sugar maple bark, so if you like maple syrup, this is the Whinfell for you.

The Azahar's magical coat was based on the Painted lichen moth, while their neutral coat is a flaxen black chestnut.

You may also notice the neutral coat has a dorsal stripe and a small spot on its forehead. This was intentional. The Azahar may be able to magically hide its form, but these are tiny giveaways to their true selves."

Whinfell redesigns: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

References:

Star Stable Online, Wildhorse364.jpg, digital art, 754 × 373 pixels (7.854 * 3.8854 in), Star Stable Wiki, October 24, 2018, https://starstable.wiki.gg/wiki/Whinfell/Gallery#/media/File:Wildhorse364.jpg.

Jennifer Hoffman, “An Interactive Introduction to Equine Coat Color Genetics," horse.jenniferhoffman.net. accessed August 12, 2022, http://horse.jenniferhoffman.net/horse-color-genetics.html.

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[aeroblossom]

yttd, but genshin au, because i have free will

✧ sara leads a primarily ordinary life in inazuma city alongside joe, set apart only by her training as a skilled swordswoman from the kanjou commission. for reasons unknown to her, though, she hasn't ever been allowed to visit the kanjou commission headquarters on ritou. cryo vision, sword user.

✧ shin, being a job hopper, has led several different jobs across inazuma. though he has multiple part time jobs currently, he doesn't like to speak of a certain job he once had - as a helper at mikage furnace. he was always visionless, and sought only to be more than the coward he'd always been. it all came to a head once he came into contact with hiyori, who gave him the power he had always longed for: a delusion. suddenly, he could hold his own against anyone, regardless of the price it took. but of course, this couldn't last long. the physical toll on him was far too much, and he had to quit using the delusion. not long after, hiyori disappeared, and shin soon came to find out what delusions were really made out of, as well as about the delusion factory and the fatui stronghold in inazuma. it takes him too long to realize his biggest strength is his own humanity. anemo delusion, catalyst user. eventually gains an anemo vision. close enough welcome back scaramouche

✧ asunaro functionally serves as the fatui, and all asunaro members have delusions:

✦ rio ranger, pyro delusion, debt collector agent, uses knives

✦ tia safalin, cryo delusion, controls cicins

✦sue miley, geo delusion, primarily uses a gun

✦ gashu satou, pyro delusion, similarly a gunslinger

✦ kai satou, electro delusion, knives

✦ maple and midori both wield delusions, but their elements are unknown

✧ maple's delusion is found inside her very body, and manifests as a dark purple energy and grows ever stronger as her emotions become more intense. generally seen with no weapon, the delusion alone is enough and is also her main power source

✧ midori is never seen using his delusion, so it's hard to know he even uses it, or whether it's functional. the few times he is seen using some kind of power, though, it manifests as the same as the one seen in khaenriahn automatons and ruin mechanisms. there are markings around his neck just like the ones found on ruin guards, that he hides with his scarf. unlike the others, there is no trace of archon residue on him, implying he doesn't use his delusion. often dresses up as other fatui positions to carry out his plans, which is how he managed to trick reko and alice. alice was accused of using a delusion borrowed from the fatui, and then he showed up as a debt collector, telling them they're now indebted to the fatui, and the only way to break free was to do as he says. frequently found hanging around ruins, or wherever ancient mechanisms can be found, claiming to be a researcher studying "the principles of this world". similarly tricked shin, whom he pitied for being visionless and scarcely having a chance in this world. having studied fate as many times as he had, he wanted to see what change could be made to shin's destiny if he introduced him to the power he had always lacked.

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 2: THE WEIRDO ON MAPLE STREET

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This part is heavy. A lot of things are happening. Nancy and Diana's friendship dynamic will be tested throughout the season. I wanted to make this pool party as realistic as possible. In watching this episode, I understand Nancy's want to fit in, but it's at the expense of Barb in my opinion and I wanted to showcase how that feels through Diana. As a dancer, I hate when after finding out I am a dancer, people tell me to dance...it makes me uncomfortable. It's not a skill that is always on for me. The move Diana shows everyone is called a Scorpion (Rhythmic Gymnastic Style).

P.S. This is what I picture Diana wearing to the pool party.

Warnings: Sexual implications. Blood. Peer Pressure.

Word Count: 3517

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

HARRINGTON RESIDENCE

When Steve said he was having a party, I never expected to be outside in his backyard, sitting on a lawn chair freezing to death. I shiver wrapping my arms around my knees. I have been here for over an hour and have done nothing but sit by the heated pool watching the water. The definition of ‘party’ was as lost as I felt. Tommy H attempts to throw Carol in the pool. She screams trying her best to escape his hold. I lean against Barb savouring her warmth and rest my head on her arm watching everything unfold. Nancy sits in a lawn chair beside Steve. Barb and I were long forgotten once we arrived. I am too cold to care.

“I thought parties were primarily inside the house.” I mumble. “What kind of party is this?” 

“A stupid one.” Barb responds with a sigh.

“All they do is smoke and drink. Where’s the food?” 

“Eating isn’t in style, I guess.”

I peer around Barb’s shoulder keeping an eye on Nancy and notice she is on her second beer for the night.  I groan, feeling restless and stand up to stretch my legs. 

“Did you want to go for a walk?” 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know, around the pool.” 

Barb looks at the pool, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “No thanks.” 

I pout, but don’t question her and begin my walk. 

“Diana, where are you going?” Nancy asks. 

“I’m tired of sitting around. I’m going to walk around the pool for a bit.” 

Nancy smiles, her blue eyes seem glazed and a little out of focused. “Okay. Just don’t leave.” 

“I won’t.” I respond, no matter how much I actually want to. 

I stroll along the edge of the pool thinking. Steve Harrington throws a lot of parties and I’m most certain the whole school has been to Steve’s house at least once in their lifetime. Which meant Steve’s parents weren’t home often. I look at the towering house and the expansive backyard. I don’t know what it’s like to be an only child, but I do know how it feels to be lonely even with others around. My gaze lowers to across the pool. Nancy smiles at Steve; they’ve been talking since we arrived leaving Barb and I alone. I don’t look at Tommy H and Carol, knowing they’re all over each other, stealing kisses and soft giggles. Instead, I look at Steve. Really look at him. His impressively beautiful hair, the cigarette behind his ear, the forgotten can of beer in his hand, the way he looks at Nancy. Like he…enjoys being around her. 

I tilt my head to the side. This is the first time I am privy to observing how Steve interacts with Nancy. He seems more…genuine and real. Not this superficial, arrogant "King Steve" persona he puts on at school or when he’s with Tommy H and Carol. I admit my perception of Steve Harrington is based on how others view and talk about him. He’s the boy we watch walk away. The Big Man on Campus. The Casanova. A glorified asshole. But in being in his house for this brief moment and seeing how he is with Nancy separate from Tommy H and Carol…maybe I had it all wrong and Steve Harrington isn’t that bad. 

A gust of wind blows past and I hug my jacket close to me. I am so cold I start to jump up and down. Sauté. Sauté. Sauté. I jump higher landing through my feet. Glissade assemblé. Glissade assemblé. I continue to jump from petit allegro to grand allegro and after a few minutes I begin to practice the Gargouillade.

“Do you ever sit down?” Tommy H shouts. 

I almost miss what he said and stop jumping. From across the pool, Steve, Nancy, Barb, Tommy H and Carol all stare at me with expressions ranging from awe to concern. 

“She’s practicing.” Nancy says. 

“For what?”

“The Nutcracker showcase next month.” 

Tommy H winces. “Sounds painful.” 

“What the hell is a Nutcracker?” Steve asks. 

“The Nutcracker,” Nancy corrects. “And it’s a two-act ballet by Tchaikovsky.” 

“Bless you.” Carol jokes, grinning. Tommy H kisses her temple.

I roll my eyes, putting my hands on my hips and pace back and forth in efforts to catch my breath. Sweat trickles down my back and I finally feel hot enough to take off my jacket. 

“Diana got one of the lead roles in the second act.” 

“Nancy.” I warn, marching to the other side of the pool. 

“What? It’s a big deal and you should be so proud of yourself!” 

“I am but…” I squeeze my jacket. Stop telling them my business! 

“How long have you been dancing?” Steve asks me, sipping his beer. I am taken aback by his question.

It’s the first time Steve is talking to me directly and not through Nancy. The first time I feel like he acknowledges me enough to talk to me despite the circumstance being forced upon me by Nancy. It takes me a moment to respond. 

“I-I was two when I started,” I stutter, looking anywhere but his face. “It’s how I met Nancy."

“You’re a dancer too?” He directs his question to her.  

“I quit last year.” 

“Why?” 

“I just didn’t want to dance anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know. I just didn’t…” she shrugs, finishing the last of the beer. Nancy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Diana is gonna go pro one day.” 

I feel like I’m going to explode. Steve looks at me again and this time I meet his gaze. 

“Pro? Sounds like sports.” 

“Dance is a sport.” I interject. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, though his eyes tell me he doesn’t agree with me. I’m not surprised because it’s the common stigma surrounding dance. Becoming a professional dancer is a one in a million chance. There are so many odds to win against. Making money is dependent on the opportunities you get and with whom. It’s not as stable as a regular 9 to 5 and the training is extensive and strenuous that most don’t make it. 

“Diana has the grace, strength and flexibility.” Nancy continues. “Her lines are perfect; her feet are beautiful.”

“Lines?” Carol questions. 

My nails dig into my palms. 

"The way she moves is aesthetically pleasing. She can do crazy things with her body.” 

“Is that so?” Tommy H smirks. 

“Diana, show them!” 

My face feels like it’s on fire. Everyone is looking at me now. I shift from side to side wanting the ground to swallow me up. All this attention on me is too much and I feel like I can’t breathe.

“No, no. I-I can’t.” 

“Please, Diana?” Nancy pouts, clasping her fingers together. 

I want to tell her to stop. I hate being asked to dance outside of a studio. It makes me feel like a clown at a circus, ready to entertain and Nancy knows this. 

“I would love to see these crazy things you can do with your body.” Tommy H’s tone suggests something else entirely. 

“Me too!” Carol adds, leaning back on him. 

I shake my head, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “It’s too cold.” 

“Just a kick then!” Nancy offers. 

“Yeah, just a kick, Diana.” Tommy H adds, smiling devilishly at me.  

“Nancy, I don’t think—” Barb begins. 

“Yeah, show us!” Carol interjects, smiling at me. 

Tommy H cheers aloud while clapping obnoxiously. I glance at the faces in front of me. Barb looks as uncomfortable as I feel and I can tell she’s trying to help me out of this situation but she is overshadowed by Tommy H and Carol. Steve looks surprisingly hesitant and Nancy’s hopeful face stares encouragingly at me. I close my eyes and sigh, placing my jacket on the empty lawn chair beside Barb. Nancy squeals in excitement as I perform some last-minute stretches to warm up my hips and back. 

Lifting my left leg up and grab the outer side of my foot with my left hand. I begin to push my back foot towards the sky as high as I can which is pretty high, considering its already by my ear without much effort. I turn my elbow outward so it’s pointing forward and in front of my head. I lift my other hand and grab my ankle with my right hand and meet my left hand with it. When I straighten my leg and pull my leg forward, the back of my thigh touches my head. I pull until I am in an over split. 

“Holy shit. How is that possible?” Steve exclaims. Nancy claps proudly while Steve stares at me wide eyed and confused. 

“That’s disgusting.” Carol says. 

“What are you?” Tommy H adds. 

I immediately let go of my leg and stand straight. They didn’t have to be so mean. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” Barb snaps, holding my jacket out to me. I take it from her, sitting in the lawn chair beside her. 

The “party” resumes as if nothing happened with Tommy H, Carol and Steve all standing finding someone or something else to entertain themselves with. Nancy watches Steve’s every move, trying to be discreet but failing. Tommy H and Carol stand near the pool and Tommy H tries to throw Carol inside again. Carol screams at the top of her lungs. 

“One, two, three.” 

 “You’re such an asshole, Tommy.” Carol giggles. 

Steve comes back with a can of beer in his hand. I can’t see what he’s doing until he quickly opens the can, putting his mouth on the side. I cringe thinking about all the germs on that can. He chugs the beer in a matter of seconds, dropping the can on the ground. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” 

Steve plops himself on the lawn chair. The cigarette behind his ear, dangles from his lips. He looks at her feigning confusion.

“You’re not?” 

Of course, she is. 

“You are such a cliché; you do realize that?” 

“You are such a cliché.” Steve responds, reaching for a lighter on the side table. He lights his cigarette and inhales. “What with your grades and your band practice.” 

“I’m so not in band.” 

“Okay, party girl.” He hands her a can of beer and the blade, challenging her. “Why don’t you just show us how it’s done, then?” 

Barb and I look at each other. That would be Nancy’s third beer for the night. Any more and she’ll get sick. I close my eyes praying Nancy won’t do what I think she’s going to do. Barb shakes her head. 

“Okay.” 

Nancy standing up caught the attention of Tommy H and Carol. 

“You gotta make a hole at the bottom—”

“I got it.” 

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche!” Tommy H laughs, crushing a beer can against his head. 

“That explains so much.” I mutter under my breath. Barb snorts, smiling. 

Nancy pokes a hole in the can of beer and quickly opens the top before she begins chugging the beer. 

“Chug, chug, chug! Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug!” 

I’d be impressed, if I weren’t so taken aback by the way Nancy was acting. She drops the empty can on the floor, stumbling slightly. Tommy H, Carol and Steve all cheer and whoop for Nancy who curtsies in thanks. 

“Barb you wanna try?” 

Barb perks up. It’s the first time she’s been addressed the entire night. “What? No. No, I don’t want to. Thanks.” 

Nancy pouts. “Di?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

Nancy looks at Barb one more time. “Come on.”

“Yeah.” Steve encourages. I squint, shaking my head. 

“Nance. I don’t want to.” Barb hisses. 

Nancy ignores her putting another can of beer and the blade in Barb’s hand. “It’s fun! Just give it a shot.” 

“Nancy. She said no.” I interject, sternly. I can’t believe she’s forcing us to do things we clearly don’t want to do. 

“Okay. Fine.” 

Barb stands up in the centre of the circle. I look up at her feeling on edge about what was going to happen and what could happen. Barb isn’t equipped to poke a hole in the can. She doesn’t know how. The silence is so loud, it’s awkward and I want to grab Barb and tell her to sit down. Barb mumbles to herself, fiddling with the blade. She presses into the can, but the blade slips, slicing through her hand. Barb flinches, dropping the can and knife on the concrete. 

“Barb!” I shout, rushing to her. I hold her wrist in my hand to inspect the damage. Blood oozes out of the cut in her palm, trickling down her wrist and my fingers. “Oh my gosh.” 

“Gnarly.” Tommy H laughs. 

I glare at him, letting go of her wrist. “It’s not funny.” I snap. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks, her eyebrows etched with worry. She seemed to have sobered up a little. 

“Yeah.” Barb says. 

“Barb, you’re bleeding.” 

“I’m fine.” Barb replies, her voice is shaking and I know she’s fighting back tears. Barb looks at Steve. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

“Oh, it’s…it’s, uh, down past the kitchen to the left.” He stands up escorting her back to the house. 

I look at my hand and the dry blood sticking to my fingers and quickly grab my jacket from the lawn chair running after them. I can’t stand to be around Nancy right now. 

“I’m coming with you, Barb.”  

I hold Barb’s hand under the cold water in the downstairs bathroom. Steve left five minutes ago leaving me and Barb alone. The air feels thick and heavy around us as we stand in silence. I know Barb feels embarrassed about what happened and that’s the reason she’s not talking. I understand completely and allow her the time to process what had just happened. Removing Barb’s hand from the water, I quickly soap my hands and rinse them before closing the tap. I quickly dry my hands against the hand towel and tend to Barb. I take her hand and inspect the cut. 

“It’s not that deep which is good.” I comment. 

“Yeah.” 

The cut begins to bleed again and I take a heap of toilet paper and quickly wrap it around her finger tight to stop the blood. Barb watches me work. I tell her to hold the wound tight to stop the bleeding. Barb nods her head and sits down on the toilet seat staring at nothing in particular. I sigh deeply and crouch to her eye level placing my hands on her knees. 

“Are you sure, you’re okay, Barb?” I ask, softly. 

Dark brown eyes look at me. “I’ll be fine.” 

I frown, growing upset with what happened by the pool. “I don’t know what’s up with Nancy or why we’re even here. Did you see how she was acting out there? I felt like I was in a circus and you, Barb. Your hand.”

“She wants us to be her guardians. So that’s what we’re going to do. Guide her and make sure she doesn’t get too drunk and do something stupid.” 

“Like sleep with Steve Harrington.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. I shake my head. “We can’t stop her from doing that when she clearly wants to, Barb. Nancy can deny all she wants, but she wants to be here. She wants to get drunk and she wants to sleep with Steve.” And it doesn’t explain why we need to be here. 

“I know…” Barb says solemnly.

Neither of us say anything for a moment. I am lost in thought, drawling circles on Barbs thighs. If Nancy would just admit how much she likes Steve, Barb and I wouldn’t be here right now. Tonight, left me wondering where did my best friend go. That person out by the pool is not Nancy, it’s a version of her I don’t know nor want to know. She didn’t notice how uncomfortable Barb and I were tonight which is so out of character, I don’t even…I shake my head again, biting my lower lip. 

“Why are we here, Barb?” I ask quietly. 

“Because Nancy wants us to be here for her.” 

“Then why do I feel like…a handbag. An accessory in all of this? Why do I feel like she doesn’t want us here?”  

Barb doesn’t answer. I sigh and stand up feeling completely drained. I want to go home. I want to take a shower and sleep. I want to do anything but be here. I hear footsteps and laughter followed by Nancy and Steve’s voice. Barb and I look at each other before springing into action. We are scrambling out the door in seconds rushing towards the grand staircase. 

“Nance. Nancy!” Barb calls. 

Nancy pauses, hugging the towel against her face, looking at us.  Steve continues to walk the steps, not bothering to look back. I observe Nancy. She is drenched from head to toe with bits of mascara gathered around her eye. 

“Where are you going?” Barb asks. 

“Nowhere. Just upstairs…” she hesitates to respond finding the right words, “to change. I fell in the pool.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and go home. I’ll just get a ride or something.”

My jaw drops. Go home? Go home? She begged us to come and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, and now she wants us to leave? That’s all we ever wanted to do since arriving here. 

“Nance.” 

“Pardon?” 

Barb and I say at the same time. Nancy looks at us. 

“I said why don’t you go home.” 

“I know what you said, Nancy, but you asked us to be here for you.” 

 “I’m fine,” Nancy says with a hint of attitude. “You guys can go.” 

I stare at her for a moment trying to figure out where my best friend went. “Did we do something wrong? 

“No.” 

“You seem like you’re mad at us.” 

Nancy sighs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not mad at you guys. I can just tell you don’t want to be here so you can both go home. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” 

Barb and I don’t speak for a moment. I’m too frustrated to say another word. I lied to my parents to be here. I lied to Mrs. Wheeler to be here. I wanted nothing to do with this and Nancy knew that, yet Barb and I were forced to be here, ridiculed and embarrassed. And Nancy doesn’t see any of it. She only sees Steve Harrington. 

“Nancy. This isn’t you.” Barb says, sadly. 

“I’m fine, Barb. Just go, both of you.”  

Nancy races upstairs without looking back. I scoff shaking my head. Unbelievable. I turn towards the door grabbing Barbs arm. 

“Let’s go.” I snap. 

I am stunned when Barb resists. She looks at me with sympathy and I immediately know what she’s about to say. 

“I’m gonna stay here…” 

“Barb, are you serious?” I exclaim. I don’t care how loud I’m being. 

“I know, I know,” Barb says pinching the bridge of her nose. “But I can’t leave her here.” 

“She just told us to go home and I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.” 

“I just can’t leave Nancy here alone.” 

My chest feels hollow. What about me? I want to ask. Barb was supposed to be our ride home. With Nancy staying and Barb staying with her, I had no way of getting home. But I refuse to linger around while Nancy stays upstairs with Steve. I can’t call my parents; I’m not supposed to be here across town. I’ll get in so much trouble, I doubt I’ll be able to leave my house for anything other than school and dance for a long time. I can’t risk it. I look at the door behind me. The thought of walking home alone scares me and I wish Barb would leave Nancy and come with me. Be with me, like I’ve been with her when she cut her hand. 

My nostrils flare as I push down the tears brimming my eyes. No. This is your mess, Diana. You have to fix it. I swallow the lump forming in my throat and I stand straight holding my head high.  

“If that’s what you want to do,” I say quietly. “I’m going home.” 

“Are you going to call your parents?” Barb asks, eyes slightly wide. 

I shake my head, putting my jacket on. “I’m just going to walk.” 

“Walk!? Diana, c’mon. Just stay here—” 

“No, I can’t.” I say with finality. 

Looking defeated, Barb nods her head, pulling me in for a hug. “Be safe. Please.” she whispers. 

I hold Barb tight, breathing in her floral scent. Neither of us let go for a long moment and a part of me feels like this hug was a…farewell. I release myself from her hold and glance down at her finger. It’s still bleeding, drenching the white tissue paper a bright red. 

“You be safe too, Barb. Please find a bandage for your finger.” 

“Yes, mom.” Barb teases. 

I smile and it feels genuine. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

NEXT -> PART V