#someone teach me the art to make backgrounds aaaah

[illbms]

Here’s a chibi Xie Lian 〔´∇｀〕

[callmetippytumbles]

Juneteenth

Tippy’s note: So I asked earlier what people would think if I did a Juneteenth story for Halle and Liam.  I saw some for other fandoms and wondered what it would be like for Halle given her background.  The people that responded said they would be cool with that.  This is that story. 

Words Counted: 1,532

Rating: PG, It’s fluffy? Well, it’s not angsty and there is no sex.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Halle)

Halle had just returned to the Royal Chambers for the day.  It was one of her long days.  She had an appearance with Liam earlier, and then they separated for the rest of their schedules.

Now she sat in the living room and was checking a few last minute emails from Justin.  There was one from Madeleine that she didn’t want to answer but she knew she should.

A Skype call rang on her screen, the high pitch digital ringtone echoing through the room. Halle saw that it was from her parents and quickly answered.

“Hey Mom & Dad,” Halle calmly greeted.

She could tell they were calling from Harrold’s dental practice in her mother’s office. Joanne’s Howard degree was hanging prominently behind her as well a large picture of Chaka Khan’s “I Feel For You” album cover art.  

“Good evening, Halle,” Her mother greeted.  “We didn’t get you too late there? Cordonian time is different.”

Halle shook her head. “Nope. It’s 7PM over here.”

“That’s good.”

“How is everything over there?”

“You know,” Harrold chimed in.  “The usual. The practice is still open, Joanie makes sure the bills are paid, and the lights stay on.”

“Well, you guys can always retire here.”

Her parents shifted uneasily in their seats before her father said, “We are still taking it under advisement.”

Halle and Liam have offered for Joanne and Harrold to retire to Cordonia.  Her parents do not entertain the conversation for very long.  The would over every reason under the sun from Harrold’s dental practice to Hakim.  They just weren’t ready.  They still felt young enough to not need to retire.  Just want to.

Harrold quickly changed the subject.  “Anyway, we called because today is Juneteenth!”

“Oh.”

His smile faded, and he took a deep breath.  “You forgot didn’t you.”

“Yeah,” Halle said apologetically.   “When you are a queen of a small country the days kind of blend together sometimes.  Plus, they don’t exactly celebrate Juneteenth over here.”

“What’s Juneteenth?” Liam asked as he walked in carrying a small package. He set the box down and walked over to his wife.  Liam kissed on her cheek.  He went to kiss her lips until he heard Harrold cough.  Liam quickly stood back.

“Sorry, I was talking with my parents.” She gestured to her laptop.

“Hello, Liam,” Joanne greeted.

“Hi, mom!” Liam greeted back.

Joanne pursed her lips.  “I am Joanne or Mrs. Berry to you until I meet Michelle Obama or I meet my grandbaby. Whichever comes first.”

“Mom.”

“Sorry Halle, but you know—“”

“Yes I do,” Halle interrupted.

“Anyway Liam, Juneteenth is an unofficial Black American holiday that commemorates emancipation.” Harrold started to explain.  

If Halle wasn’t doing the explaining of a Black American culture thing and Harrold was around, he was the one who took that on.  As much as the explaining got on his nerves, it was better that he explain it to his son-in-law than have him not know and sound crazy.  His hostility towards his daughter’s choice of husband has lessened over the 9 months since they got married.  Liam’s willingness to learn helped with that a great deal.

“Lincoln freed the slaves in 1863, but that didn’t exactly apply to all of the slaves.  Mostly to those who were close enough to run to Union territory or the North.  The last slaves were freed in Texas in 1865.  Even then people were still not happy about slavery being abolished--”

“That is an understatement--,” Joanne interjected.

“Liam, you can Google ‘Reconstruction’ on your own time.  Point is Black people were free and even when it made people upset we celebrated our freedom and resiliency.”

Liam nodded.

“Did you get the package we sent?” Joanne asked.

Halle raised her eyebrow.  “Package?”

Liam walked over to where the package was and handed it to her.

She held up the package to her computer camera.  “Package.”

Halle looked at the box, but it was already opened.

“This was already opened. Liam did you—“”

“Actually The Royal Guard did. They check all of our packages for threats.”

“Even ours?” Joanne asked.

“Yes.” Liam nodded again before quickly clarifying, “ We don’t think you would hurt us but someone could send something claiming to be you and…”

“Oh,” Joanne said, her usual vibrancy faded.

Everyone sat quietly as they remembered that they aren’t average anymore.

Halle broke the silence.  “Well, I want to see what is in this package.”

She opened the box. Inside, there was a liter size of her, and now Liam’s, favorite shampoo.  Liam smiled as soon as he saw the bottle.  The palace was well stocked now, but another bottle was never unwelcome.  There was also two bottles of red soda. Liam raised his eyebrow at the red drink.

“Mom. Dad. You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I cannot have my baby girl, queen or no, without the proper accouterments to celebrate Juneteenth.”

“I am definitely going to drink some.  I miss red soda. I miss soda in general.”

“There was one other thing I sent Halle,” Joanne added.

“I got the shampoo.”

“Not that. Check the box.”

Halle checked the box and at the bottom tucked underneath the bottles there was a rolled up piece of fabric. She unfurled it to reveal a black onesie with the words “Happy Juneteenth” on the front of it. Halle held it up for both Liam and her parents to see.

“Isn’t it adorable! For the baby.”

“There is no baby.”

“Not yet,” Liam said.  Halle glared at her husband.  He raised his eyebrows.

“Joanie,” Harrold warned.

“You hush. He said not yet,” She defended.  ”Maybe for next year it could be needed.”

“We’ll see,” Halle deadpanned.

“Anyway, we have to go. I have a 1 o’clock to get to.” Harrold said.

“These books won’t balance themselves.”

“Bye Halle.  Bye Liam,” her parents said.

Halle waved as she closed her laptop and took a deep breath.  Liam stood up to remove his blazer and unloosened his cufflinks.  Halle went to change into something more comfortable than her appropriately fitted blush sheath.  When she went back to the living room, Liam was still staring at the package.

“So June-tenth--”

“Juneteenth,” Halle corrected.

“Juneteenth is important to you and your family.”

“Yeah, it is.”  She sat back on the couch, curling her feet under her.  “When people think of slavery in America, they think of it as a long, long time ago.  400 years is a long time when you think of it as a number.  When you put it into things, you can see…”  Halle played with her fingers as she tried to find the transition to her next point before giving up.

“You know how you can look back over your family history and see nothing but kings and queens?”

Liam nodded.

“My Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather was a slave.  That is just 5 degrees of separation between my dad and slavery.  It’s a lot to sit with.”

Liam joined her on the couch.  He wasn’t sure what to make of that.  They don’t teach you what the most appropriate facial expression for talking about slavery in etiquette class.

“I see.  And the red soda?”

Halle shrugged,  “I don’t know for sure.  It has been at every Juneteenth party I have ever been to.  Some people say that the red is connected to West Africa, but I haven’t heard much as to why.”

“Is it a big celebration?”

“For my family it is.  For others, it isn’t.”  

Her husband furrowed his brows in confusion.  

“It’s one thing when you just experience the racism that stems from slavery.  It’s another when your family has lived through it.  So not everyone celebrates it.  Some people don’t know about it, mostly Africans that immigrated to America.”

“Well,” Liam started.  He pulled his wife closer to him, so her head rested on his chest.  “There is still a few hours left in the day.  Want to have a small Juneteenth celebration?”

“Sure.”

“Wait.” He paused.  “What do we do during a Juneteenth celebration?”

Halle sat up.  “There is usually a barbeque.  We eat, spend time with our loved ones and just be thankful that we are alive and free...And crack these babies open.”

Halle handed Liam a soda.  They both could hear the sound of the fizz as they opened the bottles.  Halle took a big gulp of her drink while Liam took a tentative sip.

“Aaaah.  Oh, how I have missed you.” Halle said looking at the bottle.  

She looked over at Liam who was drinking more slowly than she was.

“It’s a taste alright.”

“I know it seems silly,” Halle deflected.

“No, it isn’t silly.  Not in the least.  It is important to you, and now it is important to me.”  He pulled her back onto his chest.  

“Besides, we have to be thankful that we are together and alive.  There were some points last year whether one or both of those things could have been in jeopardy.”

Halle nodded in agreement, “We survived.”

Liam kissed the top of her forehead, and she smiled.  They sat together on the sofa and enjoyed each other’s company for the rest of the night.  Thankful for their lives and each other.

[tinkerbelllion-blog]

Mining For Memories PT. 1

Memories undealt with may cause you to go blind

they say hindsight is 20/20, but is this true?

Memories undealt with are gold mine reservoirs; broken reservoirs holding liquid gold as it leaks out the crevices like rain drops your eyes leak on your heart, each drop a memory undealt with that holds more value than the golden cistern its trapped in, what purpose does the container have when its breaking at its seems, its almost as if those forgotten memories have a voice, crying for you let them out

So naturally we guard the cistern with emotional serpents

fear chilling to the very core of our spine 

convincing ourselves we don’t have the power to face the ophidian

A glow appears behind the pot of gold like a rainbow after rain

a twinkle in your eye has you dreaming, what if I try and open the reservoir?

When tunnel vision is a thing, which eye can see the light at the end of the 

tunnel? If tunnel vision is a thing:

Is it due to the site of the destination being exciting or

Is The glare of glory blinding in such a way its debilitating

Two lights appear, a split in the road both lights only inches away from the other

perhaps a fork pointing to polar opposite avenues; so which way do you go?

Why not go down the third road, follow the darkness, call it the one less traveled

Does it exist or is it imaginary, is originality even a thing even more?

Are there rules to making decisions? Its as if I can hear my third grade teachers 

voice whisper:

You must choose within the definitive choices

There must not be fictionalized approaches

Deduction will be taken into consideration when regulations are not followed

Now may I ask,

How vital is following the light ahead of me

Abstract consciousness is created to be expressed, expressed through an aray 

of outlets, writing, coloring, painting, ooo and doodling too

Is the art of originality now getting basic creativity taken away from us due to the 

abnormality of self expression

And self sabotage is a thing

Guilt and doubt set it, a dark and blurry haze covers your eyes

A dark and confusing unexplainable weight that drives your being at a velocity 

that blinds your view of reality, leaving you without sight

chasing something you dont really want

not willing to reach out to the help in front of you,

pleading for someone to stop you, 

lacking the courage to let the help be there for you

so you continue down the third path

not seeing any light you keep wandering

curiousity blossoms into a raging fire that illuminates your foot steps

Originality is a powerful tool on this path i wander down

observing my peers who have walked down a little further, but strange nobody 

seems to be using their creativity

How is a more powerful tool comparatively less useful than the more chosen tool, copy and paste, everyone seems to be caring around

Can you define quality sustenance due to popularity? 

Is now lacking in character being viewed as stronger relevance Its almost as if the views from the outside looking in are more important to protect the overall image.

******************************************************************************************* A familiar chill rolls into the front of my brain

We are taught to color in the lines;

to stay in the box, go right or go left, follow the lighted path

Time carries on to develop this pattern to black and white decisions

Choices are made to be final, you are allowed to choose black or white

Does anyone see how various factors play a violent role in relative reality

Do you see how black and white decision markers are nothing but view points of others boundaries to attempt to determine or even define right or wrong?

Boundaries are broken when the gift of going against the crowd and picking up the originiality tool is subjected to judgement

rejecting new ideas or walks of life is a broken boundary

when boundaries are broken,

on whom does the conviction fall?

The teacher or the student

Questions are highly relevant to seeking enlightenment

Whom, What, When, Where and Why is the foundational ground to sustenance where answers are found

What do I choose? Where do I go? Whom am I? When did I get here? Why did I sign up for this? How do I get out? Eyes vibrate back and forth, Mind races, thoughts come in like a rushing force of wind

But does structure play a role in all walks of life?

Lawlessness, rebellion, or is it freedom?

How can a definitive answer be found in the midst of nothingness?

Without abstract consciousness, black and white would not be our relative reality, yes or no, right or wrong all were found in the gray space

Why is the ground we walk on ignored as if we are walking on air?

What I mean is without originality, creativity, the vision of embarking on creation, black and white, left right, right or wrong were concepts sought out in the void so we all collectively walk this earth to leave a mark but so rarely do we recognize the physical ground our feet touch once came out of blank space

if the very ground we walk on was once matter floating in another dimension formed creatively or by circumstance, why do we lack the desire to create our own reality and choose to follow the heard

so why do we ignore the ground we walk on as if we are waking on air

Is the relavance of our foundation now null and void based on the continuation of time? Will time and space ever coexist in the same spacial plane where beauty can exist simultaneously to have the ability to expand the chemical consciousness where pain lies? If the bar is not pushed will we ever reach our goal to be in the find the final destination? Being told not to go towards the set destination Patiently waiting time and space takes a toll So, in the midst of the darkness the only light is the fire from within guiding your footsteps What do your eyes see that pull you towards what is deemed to be null and void?

Serpents hissing, the growl in their stomachs deepens the hissing letting you know they are hungry and your the only thing in site, anger covers you like a tidal wave

the feeling starts to radiate down your body, slowing consuming you from the inside out, fear senses the change in your atmosphere and slides in like jelly slides out the back end of your sandwich

No hope in front of you, but the fire leading you to keep going is still lighting your pathway

stopping abruptly

a drop of fear falls hitting the ground you thought was solid, but with little light you notice ripples like skipping rocks on a still pond

what is going on

I thought i was a coward to face those snakes,

then the glow, the the split lights, and i walked away

into the darkness

trying to find a way to accept failure

i dont have what it takes, those snakes were larger than cgi

ya what they are guarding is my past but i wouldnt survive if i faced them

Do you take the chance to fail, turn around and accept uncertain death?

Learn this time around then change your answer when you come back around?

Risk- reward is an acceptable logical background So I fail if I am right and fail if i am wrong Who wins? Me or the test Human intelligence or a mechanical response to end the present

Tunnel vision is a thing you know

So where do you end up?

Stationary, head back to the forked road, or gain ground on this non lit road

somethings stings your ear, aaaah

picking up your feet you run faster than you ever did trying to catch the bus

smack, hitting what has to be a concrete wall

falling into the ripples of the floor you start flying

smack, those sandles are huge

who are you? where am i? and how did i get here? what do you want with me? Ill face the ophidian you giant freak

oh will you now? a soft, gentle like silk, yet deep and attentive voice replies

you know, the voice begins again, this is all just an illusion of your mind

your doing this to yourself, lets see you do this again, oh and this time, 

remember what i said

smack, a glow around broken golden cisterns with liquid gold inside guarded by gigantic ophidians

a thought comes to mind, remember what i said, its just an illusion

I take one step forward and the glow gets brighter, splitting to the familiar fork road lighted paths i saw earlier

i take one more step this one with confidence beautiful colors rip the ophidian off the cistern and liquid gold floods the room, looking down i see the same sandles i saw when i talked to the beautiful voice

wait these arent mine, and i dont remember taking off my shoes

i choose to do something that made me happy and even the road to get here although frightening i made the choice, a small detour and a nice bump on the head then i got redirected by some huge pair shoes, but it led me to my destination

Were you right or wrong? Who is the judge? You or the answer key? Do you allow your relatives view of your current reality take your test Or do defy the boundaries you are taught, creating your own. Expanding communal consciousness for progessive development Who teaches who? The teacher or the student, now may i ask if the positional roles are reversaible Do your memories undealt with serve you justice to the present relative reality?