#Christee

[christee-expressions]

Happy Lunar New Year! 🐉🎊

#artwork #christee #illustration #drawing #draw #w.i.t.c.h taranee #w.i.t.c.h will #w.i.t.c.h cornelia #w.i.t.c.h cedric #w.i.t.c.h irma #w.i.t.c.h hay lin #w.i.t.c.h comic #w.i.t.c.h fanart #w.i.t.c.h. #kandrakar #meridian #kandrakar heart #heart of kandrakar #procreate #lunar new year #dragon #Chinese dragon #digitalillustration #digitalpainting #digital art #fanart #alessandro barbucci #barbara canepa #elisabetta gnone #my art

[lil-gingerbread-sims]

StrangerVille's Locals #2

Name: Christee Lamy

Age: Young Adult

Species: Human

Gender: Woman (trans)

Pronouns: She/Her

Orientation: Sapphic

Place of Birth: StrangerVille

Current Address: Maez-Lamy's House at StrangerVille Plaza, Carpophagous Corner

Traits: Geek, Clumsy, Active, Domestic

Relationships in town: Joya Maez (Partner), Jade Maez-Lamy (Daughter), Bea Maez-Lamy (Daughter), Vibe (Friend), Alfredo Suu (Friend), Kai Acothley (Friend), Chad McSmith (Friend),

Occupation: Soldier (Military)

Christee Lamy is the kind of person people believe to be younger than they actually are, probably because of her love for science-fiction, but she is a grown adult with her own family, consisted of her children Jade and Bea and her cat Vibe, that she founded with the love of her life, Joya. Since her childhood, Christee wanted to help others, which lead her to join the army, and the base of StrangerVille, like a lot of other locals.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 story #sims 4 story #simblr #ts4 strangerville #strangerville #welcome to strangerville #strangerville locals #my sims #christee lamy

[pauldelancey]

Paul's Awesome English Dictionary - Today's Word, Lockiness

Sometimes words come about gradually. You hear them for a while before noticing and adopting them into your vocabularly. Sometimes your work or studies require you to coin a new word so as to avoid using a sentence over and over when the new bon mot will do quite nicely. And then sometimes, the world suddenly gives birth to a glorious, brilliant, and beautiful new word just as the Greek god Zeus…

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#Athena #beautiful #birth #Chef Paul #Christee Gabour Atwood #Comic Chef #cookbook #God #Greek #lockiness #Paul&039;s Awesome English Dictionary #recipes #skull #vocabulary #words #Zeus

[beginagain--]

Christee Palace Releases New Track, 'Love Me Better'

Christee Palace is a pop singer/songwriter hailing from a large family of musicians in her hometown of Windsor, Ontario– something she proudly shares with all who meet her. Recently she has dropped, ‘Love Me Better’, her first release of 2023. On the track, Palace says: “I was just getting out of a relationship and feeling incredibly vulnerable and sad, blaming myself for the outcome. I kept…

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#Christee palace #Music #new music

[gothhabiba]

Hey, apologies, I'm sure this has been asked before & I've seen an answer about it, but I'm struggling to find the post! And absolutely no pressure to answer bc I know it's asking a lot. I really enjoy reading poetry and find your poetry so wonderful & moving to read, I really treasure my copy of wonderers & witch talkers. I have no background in literature or humanities and I really enjoy writing poetry but it is Bad Poetry. Is there a way to get better at both reading & writing poetry, please?

thank you so much, that's so flattering! 🥰♥

there's a lot of advice about writing poetry in my tagged/writing:

my process of writing a poem from beginning to end, including editing

how to get over the anxiety of being "bad" at poetry

how to find your poetic voice (via @christee-angel)

writing exercises

on line breaks in free-form poetry

how to get started writing fixed-form poetry

sonnet exercises (at the end of this reading). mostly if you've already written a few sonnets and are interested in the form

how to avoid sounding trite (don't worry about this yet if you've just started writing poetry)

the advice in there about reading poetry is sparser, but a lot of the advice about writing (making sure that things like tone, line breaks, and meter are 'doing' what you want them to do) doubles as advice about reading—in fact, reading poetry is necessary to gain an understanding of what, for example, a line break 'does' to your experience of reading a poem, such that you can manipulate your own line breaks to effect.

more advice on reading poetry:

Paul Fussell's Poetic Meter and Poetic Form is often given as an intro to close reading of poetry. you might start with chapter 6, which engages with both metre and rhyme.

different ethos of reading literature (that aren't close reading) and questions to ask yourself as you read

how to read stress in / perform scansion of metred poetry

I also want to stress that, if you're enjoying what you read, you are not "bad" at reading poetry. reading a poem, having an emotional (or other) response to the import of the words, a pleasurable (or jarring, thought-provoking, interestingly uncomfortable) response to the texture of the language itself—any instance where a poem is 'doing' something for you, where you feel like you're getting something from the poem, or collaborating with the poem to produce an experience you like—these are all 'successful' instances of reading poetry.

additional things to do / pay attention to when reading a poem:

read the poem silently, and then (if you can) aloud. pay attention to how the poem makes you feel, what situation you think it's describing, what ideas you get from it. then listen to the poem as it's read (if there's a reading on youtube or an audiobook version, for example) and compare that to your reading of the poem. how do the different readings suggest different interpretations or emphasis?

on your next reading, pay special attention to the language of the poem and to how the words sound put together as you read aloud. how do they feel in your mouth? what rhymes, repeated sounds (consonance or assonance), rhythms do you notice? at what pace do move across the page, and how does the author of the poem use rhythm, lineation, or spacing across the page to alter that pace? can you liken the rhythm of the poem to a certain pattern of bodily movement? can you 'feel' it? what does the shape of the poem evoke? why do you think the author made the choices they did?

notice the tone of the words chosen. is it matter-of-fact, melodramatic, incisive, flowery, pared-down, effusive?

notice the structure of the poem. is it strictly chronological, does it move back and forth, is it wandering, repetitive, cyclic, does it repeatedly reference ideas or repeat images that have come before? what effect do these things have on your experience of the poem? how would the poem be different with a different tone or structure?

as a writing exercise, try writing the poem with a different tone or structure. what changes? is it more effective, less effective, does it do different things? which version do you prefer?

does the poem remind you of anything you've read before? what ideas in the broader world (social, literary, economic, political) does the poem reference or play with? does your perception of the poem's form (i.e., you probably have different ideas about what a sonnet versus a free-form poem 'means') seem to work with or against the poem's tone and ideas? why do you think the poet chose the form they did? on analysing the choices that a poet made within a fixed form, see Fussell again.

as you notice different aspects of a poem in their plurality, you should be in a better place to manipulate these things in your own writing; this also encourages more multivalent possibilities in how you respond to other people's writing.

#Anonymous #questions #writing #reading comprehension #wanderers witch talkers #love mail

[bimboficationblues]

"every conversation around this really boils back down to Christee's insight" <- thing I am saying constantly

[power-chords]

I saw @alienpapacy liking this morning's edition of the commute shitposting firehose and was like "Oh that's funny, I never took Christee for a Collective Soul fan." It literally just hit me: oh SHIT that's RIGHT they're from GEORGIA

#also home of the Marvelous 3. my favorite hashtag forgotten nineties band from a southern state that isn't texas

[whativebeenupto]

The Stonehenge Legacy by Sam Christee

#read 2024 #4 / 2024

[queenbirbs]

mise en place | chapter one | everett flynt x mc

Book: Slow Burn

Pairing: Everett Flynt x f!MC

Rating: General (rating will change for future chapters)

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: On the heels of their successful first season, Jules packs her bags once again and tries to juggle all of her obligations -- to the show, to her family, and to her relationship with Everett. Or: season two of Taste of the World.

Fic playlist is linked here.

Lingering just out of frame, Jules Santos pulled out her phone and zoomed in for a quick photo of the dish on the counter.

There really wasn’t much need for stealth, seeing as she was the guest host and had already filmed her segment. Besides, the family was crowded around the oven, watching as host Christee Clark put the finishing touches on her vastly improved version. 

Jules would never judge people for what they cooked at home. She had spent her fair share of paydays buying instant ramen because it was the only thing she could afford after bills. What’s for Dinner?’s concept wasn’t built on the expectation that people chosen in grocery store parking lots would be creating Michelin-star dishes. But the longer she stared at the McDavid family’s entry into the competition, the queasier she got. Tapping on her most recent conversation, she sent over the monstrosity. A few seconds later, her phone brightened with an incoming text. 

Everett: What on earth am I looking at?

Jules: hotdog lasagna

Everett: Please tell me you don’t have to do a taste test

Jules: it’s part of the contract

Across the room, Christee set a timer for her lasagna and turned to speak to the camera. She cycled through two or three sendoffs before the director called cut and the crew repositioned their equipment. Jules ducked underneath a boom mic as it swung across the cramped kitchen.  

Everett: Then I’m obligated to call you with a fake emergency to get you out of it

Jules: you’re sweet, but no. I’m a tough cookie 😊

Everett: It’s your funeral

A photo of a downtown skyline appeared in the chat, the towering buildings sparkling against the evening sky. Even better was the ghostly reflection of Everett in the window, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration – the kind she usually saw above a range. It was just poor luck they had both been booked as guests on shows, though at least hers was close to home. The same couldn’t be said for Everett’s episode of RSVP: Atlanta. It had only been nine days since she’d seen him last, but she missed him. The time alone did give her a chance to knock some important things off her to-do list, though.

With the upgraded lasagna in the oven for another thirty minutes, Jules made her way through the McDavid’s house and out their front door. The family dog trotted out after her and flopped onto the porch. The Ventura suburb didn’t offer much in views, so she took a seat on the steps and gave Everett a ring.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he answered, his voice warm in her ear. 

“We’re on a break, so I thought I’d call. How goes the episode?” 

“Good.” She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, petting the chocolate Labrador beside her and listening as Everett described the locations and their prized dishes. “Some of these restaurants might lead the city to becoming a top ten foodie destination soon, per Julian. Who, by the way,” he all but growled, “abandoned me today to go scout a possible location for season three.”

The idea sent a little flutter in her chest. A third season wasn’t a guarantee yet, but it didn’t seem preposterous, given how close they were to starting the second season. 

“Always thinking ahead, our Julian,” she said with a grin.

An undignified snort sounded from the other end. “Yeah, sure. But anyway, tomorrow we’ve got an early morning at a cafe in Buckhead and then I’m off the airport. Think my flight lands at two.” 

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’ll be done by then,” she lied. “Is Cam able to pick you up?”

“He said he’d be available, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish LAX on a Friday afternoon on my worst enemy.”

“I’d do it for you.”

“I know you would.”

One of the PAs called her name from inside the house, rousing her from their pleasant bubble. She tried to hide the pathetic-sounding groan, but Everett must have heard it, judging from his familiar huff of laughter. 

“Wish me luck.”

“I recommend chasing that lasagna with some antacids.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled as she got to her feet. “Text me when you board tomorrow?”

“Will do. Love you.”

That little flutter returned at his words. “Love you, too.”  

Yesterday, this seemed like a cute idea. It wasn’t often that she got to surprise Everett – the man was so vehemently against surprises that he was usually able to suss them out before she finished planning them. This time, however, she had a day-old set photo, Cam as an accomplice, and 2,100 miles on her side. So, when Everett texted her that he was boarding, she sent him a picture of the McDavid family’s Lab. Then she finished her laundry, exchanged emails with her realtor, stared at the messy document that was her cookbook draft, and made the forty-five minute drive to the airport. 

If anyone inside the terminal recognized her underneath the oversized sun hat, they didn’t say. Which was fine with Jules, seeing as how she was trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She’d never been a fan of crowds, especially when she had to face them alone. Her grandmother once told her it stemmed from an incident at a hometown festival when Jules was seven. She got separated from her family for over two hours – not that she recalled any of it, the memories lost to trauma and/or time.       

Not wanting to attract any overzealous fans, she had forgone any signage. Everett had an uncanny ability to pick her out of a crowd, anyway. Which is why, when she spotted him stalking towards baggage claim in his baseball hat, it only took another moment before his scowl fell away and he changed course.  

“Hey, strange–” Before she could finish her greeting, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her close for a hug. 

“I’ve waited ten days to do that,” he told her as he set her back down. “This is a nice surprise. You didn’t have to come get me, you know.” 

“I know.” She leaned up on her toes, smiling into the kiss when the brim of his hat knocked into hers. “I wanted to.” 

Everett reached for her hand and together, they navigated through the torrent of people and onto the escalator. After snagging his luggage, they made their way out to the parking lot. Her 1963 Rambler was a bright pop of powder blue, standing out easily from all the gray Civics and white Camrys. It had a faulty odometer and the gears were a little stiff, but her grandfather had taken good care of it for fifty years, before gifting it to her on her eighteenth birthday. 

“Next time we go to that drive-in, we’re taking this car,” Everett told her as they settled in, taking off his hat and running his fingers through the dark strands.         

“But yours is the one with tinted windows.” 

Gripping the gear stick, she held his gaze for a long beat, long enough that she didn’t miss the sly tilt of his mouth. Just as she prepared to back out of their space, though, he moved. Leaning across the bench seat, he tipped her hat up and trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. 

“With our disguises are out of the way, I’d—”

Jules slid across the last few inches of leather and pressed her lips to his, silencing his suave line. It was a tender kiss, soft and slow – as were all the ones that followed until they parted for air. 

“Now that’s what I was waiting ten days for.” 

“As always,” he said with a grin, “I’m happy to oblige.” 

Season two of Taste of the World started off in the spirited, southern city of Nashville, Tennessee. After doing his research, Julian determined it would be optimal to start their shoot there the first week of March. It would be a little chilly, but it would get them in and out of the city before the bach party season kicked off. It was too bad, then, that filming started the first week of August – mostly due to studio execs hemming and hawing over the budget.    

Seated next to Jules on the plane, Vivian scrolled through a shoe store’s listings, joking about buying the gaudiest cowboy boots she could find. 

“You need look no further,” Zara murmured from in front of them, making a show of glancing down the plane. Jules bit back a laugh when she followed her gaze to a man wearing a pair of turquoise-and-fuschia boots with a peacock plumage stitched across the toe box.  

The second season’s first location was Birdie’s, a deli on the west side. Tucked in amongst the traditional cottages and the grayscale townhomes, its tattered awning and dull brick weren’t doing it any favors. Neither was the sign, missing from atop the pole in the tiny parking lot. Stepping into the restaurant, the dark wood paneling and chipped Formica tables only added to the dated image. Above the counter, the menu spanned across the back wall: one panel for meat-and-threes, one for daily specials, another for drinks and milkshakes and desserts, and a last panel for sides. The amount of choices was overwhelming. Looking around, it appeared that the only clientele were the folks who had been around when it first opened. The delicious scent of the daily special – fried catfish and hush puppies – gave some indication on why they would keep returning.  

Delia Harris met them behind the counter, clad in a grease-stained apron and cornmeal-coated sneakers. She became the sudden owner of Birdie’s five years ago and had been struggling to keep it open for the last three. After the small lunch crowd trickled out, she talked with them in the kitchen as her wife Collins cleaned and prepped for dinner. Delia gave them the historical spiel on the business: opened by her grandparents in 1971, Birdie’s was named in honor of her great-grandmother, Beatrice. In 2001, the deli was passed down to Delia’s mother and uncle, who continued the success. When they were tragically killed in a car accident in late 2016, Delia stepped in and took over. 

“The original plan was that when my mama and Uncle Jimmy were tired of running things, Birdie’s would go to his son, Anthony,” Delia continued, dabbing a napkin under her eyes as she talked. “But when the dust settled, he admitted that he didn’t want to. He didn’t spend enough time here to really know how to run the place, and he was worried he would run it into the ground.” Sniffling, she balled the napkin up and shot them a sardonic smile. “Ironic, I know.” 

Used to dealing with Zara’s curt attitude, Jules waited with bated breath for her to jump in with commands to move the scene along. But Zara kept quiet, muttering only to the crew as she kept her attentive gaze on the owners. Maybe the network execs had actually talked to her like they promised. It was the first episode, though, and only time would tell.      

“What do you think is the main reason your place isn’t doing well?” Julian asked, to which Delia huffed a short laugh. 

“Money.” Standing beside her, Collins clicked her tongue and made a rolling gesture with her hand. Delia shuffled her feet for a moment and then sighed. “It really is the biggest problem we have. I’ve had to cut corners to pay the rising costs and the few employees we do have.” 

She showed them the trash bags in the back, where the soiled rags and aprons went for her to take them to the laundromat, since she could no longer afford a company to do so. Local ingredients had to be swapped for cheaper, frozen ones, resulting in a loss of quality. When a tornado tore through the city last year, it had taken her sign and some of the roof with it. The roof was an easy, albeit costly, fix – but the sign was original, built by her grandfather. A photo of it, along with her grandparents, hung proudly behind the counter. Beside it, a more recent photo of her mother and uncle posed under the sign. 

“I’ve tried to keep things the same, but we’ve had to update and adapt,” Delia continued. “I’ve been adding stuff to the menu to keep up with the competition, but in all honesty, I’m not sure if it’s helped or not. Other stuff was necessary, you know, like creating an online presence. My mama and Uncle Jimmy didn’t ever bother with that kinda stuff. I was the one who set up their Jabbr for them back in the day,” she said, followed by a quick laugh. “But with that and the Pictagram account and the Foodie page came the need for online ordering and delivery. I spent two years dealing with the industry giants, but they were more trouble than they were worth, so we’ve been doing the deliveries since.”                  

“She means she’s been doing them,” Collins cut in. “Our delivery gal moved back down to Murfreesboro last year, because she was priced out of her apartment here.” 

“We try our best to pay people a living wage, but inflation has hit the south pretty hard. A lot of locals have left the city for greener pastures, especially with all the gentrification driving people out.” Delia fiddled with a stack of napkins and sighed. “We’ve had more than our share of offers to buy the place – mostly from developers that would raze the building and plop down another luxury apartment. But I couldn’t face myself if I let that happen without a fight. So, it’s been a balancing act to pay the bills and our employees and get customers in the door. We can handle the first two, but the last one is proving to be the hardest. That’s why we contacted y’all for help.”

“And that’s what we’re here to do,” Everett promised.

Author's notes and what-have-yous:

I have been working on this fic on and off since January 2022, figured it was high time to post the first chapter at least. I know the fandom for this book is like nonexistent but I've already written like 23k for this fic and I needed to go ahead and post something of it.

Continue on to chapter two

#choices slow burn #everett flynt x mc #everett x mc #choices slow burn fic #Kaila writes things #f: mise en place #c: jules santos

[independentartistbuzz]

Christee Palace Drops Self-Love Anthem "Love Me Better"

Christee Palace is a versatile and vibrant artist whose colourful personality and talent are undeniable. The Toronto-based pop singer/songwriter hails from a large family of musicians in her hometown of Windsor, Ontario. From winning the Jim Beam National Talent Search and an Indie Award, to opening for artists such as Sean Kingston and Walk off the Earth, her polished live show and captivating charisma continue to land her incredible milestones.

She teamed up with Billboard Top 10 artist Kayla Diamond to co-write and produce her latest single, “Love Me Better.” Blaming herself for a break-up, she found self-love in the songwriting process and came to understand what she deserves. She advises taking care of yourself first in order to find someone who is complementary to you.

Listen in here: https://open.spotify.com/track/1k0G56TXxHVZbQMYA1Q4Xo

[christee-expressions]

Happy 23rd Anniversary to my favorite movie since a lifetime 💙

#the iron giant fanart #the iron giant #illustration #artwork #christee #drawing #draw #art #fanart #artsy #procreate #digitalpainting #digital artwork #brad bird #hogarthhughes #hogarth hughes #Hogarth #dean mccoppin #kent mansley #Annie Hughes #el gigante de hierro #1999 #vhs #iron giant

[sareideas]

2022 Down Under Championship Results — Madeline Sturt and Jay Crouch are Triumphant

2022 Down Under Championship Results — Madeline Sturt and Jay Crouch are Triumphant

Madeline Sturt and Jay Crouch are the winners of the 2022 Down Under Championship. The two CrossFitters managed to pace ahead of the respective Women’s and Men’s fields to capture their Individual titles at the contest that took place on Nov. 18-20, 2022, in Wollongong, Australia. On the Teams side, LSKD Gold — featuring Briony Challis, Christee Hollard, and Emily de Rooy — took first place for…

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[lil-gingerbread-sims]

StrangerVille’s Locals #6

Name: Kai Acothley

Age: Young Adult

Species: Human

Gender: Demi-Woman (Afab)

Pronouns: She/They/He

Orientation: Bisexual

Place of Birth: StrangerVille

Current Address: Yakari's Ranch at StrangerVille Plaza, Old Penelope

Traits: Dance Machine, Animal Enthusiast, Cheerful, Gregarious

Relationships in town: Thunderstorm (Friend), Christee Lamy (Friend), Joya Maez (Friend), Chad McSmith (Friend), Camille Hollow (Friend), Willia Kebia (Friend), Fraive Lampou (Friend)

Occupation: Rancher

Kai grew up in the surrounding area of StrangerVille, within her loving family. It's only when she heard about her grand-grandfather old ranch, left abandoned, that she moved to StrangerVille with her best friend Thunderstorm. Even if she lives on her own now, she still a really social individual, always ready to make new friends at the Old Saloon of StrangerVille.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 story #sims 4 story #simblr #ts4 strangerville #strangerville #welcome to strangerville #strangerville locals #my sims #kai acothley #I'm in love with her okay?!

[canada4news]

An acoustic performance by singer-songwriter Christee Palace | Watch News Videos Online

An acoustic performance by singer-songwriter Christee Palace | Watch News Videos Online

Music has helped many get through the pandemic–it’s a guaranteed mood booster. Global News Weekend has an acoustic performance from an up and coming Ontario artist–Christee Palace—of her new single What Have You Done To Me. Source link

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#acoustic #Canadian Music #Christee #Christee Palace #music #news #online #Palace #performance #pop music #singersongwriter #videos #Watch #What Have You Done To Me

[bimboficationblues]

do you have any advice for someone with social anxiety on how to get laid

Unfortunately our office is unable to take on cases like this due to conflicts of interest. I'm going to refer you to one of my associates, Christee "Artist Formerly Known as Alienpapacy" @christee-angel. You could also write into "Dear Gally" @deirdreskye.tumblr.com but she's really backed up over there.

In all seriousness I feel like any advice I could give on this is going to be an "easier said than done" kind of thing because that has been my experience. I can tell you to be forthright, direct, flirty and friendly, but when rubber hits road that shit is hard if you're like afraid or stressed out by something going awry or coming off poorly. when I discussed something similar with one of the above people she said that like, preparing oneself for the respective best/mediocre/bad outcomes, will probably help - the worst outcome in most instances is a bruised ego, and even if you shoot your shot and it doesn't go the way you hope, you did something that is incredibly challenging so you should feel proud, reward yourself by putting some Bailey Jay on the TV

[beachgothgay]

Me: Godzilla is actually a deeply trans film

My supervisor, already so fucking tired of my shit: Explain.

Me, gesturing vaguely at my bootleg dvd: It's the cinema of it all

#christee you inspired me to do this #again this is almost a joke #maybe half a joke