#the infant strut post

[lev1hei1chou]

Fashion Icon

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 504 Synopsis: Gojo's baby has to be a fashion icon Masterlist

It was a sunny afternoon when Gojo Satoru, your husband, decided to take your baby out for a stroll. As he strapped the little bundle of joy into the stroller, he couldn't help but envision his child as a miniature fashion icon.

"Alright, little one, let's show the world what style truly means," Gojo declared with a wink, earning a gurgle of approval from the baby.

With his sunglasses perched on his nose and his hair flowing in the breeze, Gojo strutted down the street with the stroller, drawing curious glances from passersby.

As the duo wandered, Gojo's attention was caught by a trendy baby boutique, its windows adorned with the latest in infant fashion. Unable to resist the allure, he veered off course and entered the store, much to the confusion of the sales clerk.

"Welcome! How can I help you today?" the clerk chirped, eyeing the man's eccentric attire and the bemused baby in the stroller.

Gojo's eyes gleamed with excitement as he surveyed the racks of miniature clothing and accessories. "I'm here to upgrade my baby's wardrobe," he announced proudly, causing the clerk to raise an eyebrow.

Undeterred, Gojo dove into the aisles, plucking out tiny onesies, stylish boots, and even a miniature fedora. With each selection, he imagined the baby strutting their stuff with confidence, just like their stylish father.

After what seemed like an eternity of browsing, Gojo returned to the stroller, laden with bags of baby fashion treasures. He carefully arranged the purchases around the bemused infant, who seemed more interested in chewing on their own fingers.

As they exited the store, Gojo couldn't contain his excitement. "Isn't this amazing, little one? You're going to be the most fashionable baby in town!"

Back home, you greeted the duo with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "What on earth happened? Why do we suddenly have enough baby clothes to outfit a small army?"

Gojo flashed his trademark grin, his sunglasses gleaming. "Well, you see, darling, our child simply cannot be seen in anything less than the finest threads. Fashion is a way of life, even for the tiniest among us!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, shaking your head in disbelief. "I suppose our baby will thank you for their impeccable style sense one day."

In the days that followed, Gojo's fashion obsession reached new heights as he eagerly dressed the baby in each new ensemble, staging impromptu photoshoots and posting them to social media with the hashtag #BabyFashionista.

Despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the joy that radiated from Gojo whenever he admired the baby's stylish outfits. And as the months passed, you found yourself joining in on the fun, eagerly browsing for the latest trends in infant fashion.

As the baby grew older, they developed their own unique sense of style, much to Gojo's delight. Whether it was a tiny pair of sunglasses perched on their nose or a miniature trench coat draped over their shoulders, they exuded confidence and charm wherever they went.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #jjk satoru #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim checking in reviewing this gaslighting moment that failed!  They had to produce an infant for the press and orchestrated a photo op/introduction at the palace. Like a set for a TV show, she strutted out in heels, wearing a huge moon bump, strung up so high in an odd position, as if this was her post-birth body…once again totally clueless. If you watch the video of this highly orchestrated performance on mute, their body language screams lying. After carefully holding a motionless “infant” Harry, all of a sudden, as if practiced and on cue, moves his left hand to the upper chest area and starts pressing down hard with his thumb, to the point it turned white! That would make any little baby squirm with a startled wail, but nothing happened.

It turns out that is the location in “reborn” dolls for the button that starts the battery-operated movements. As usual, this duo flunked baby doll mechanics. You can go to sites for these amazing dolls, to see just how it all works. The artists who paint them make beautiful babies that look life-like in every conceivable combination. At this event, the press was cordoned off, far back in a huge empty hall and questions were kept to a minimum. Megnut looked flustered it didn’t work, and quickly ended the session, pulling Harry to turn around and leave mid-sentence. It is all there to study lasting about 3 minutes. Fascinating how calculated her facial expressions, hair flicking and nervous laughter was.

This is an excerpt of a long piece I will see if Skippy thinks good enough to post. Over and out for now from a very steamy Cape Cod.

This is great Pilgrim!!!!  Thank you!  I remember this all so well!🐼

[brandwhorestarscream]

starscream x shockwave

I'm imagining this as TFP Shockstar, post war: the whole mess with the predacons and Megatron abandoning them, he does the most logical thing to guarantee their survival: bends Starscream over the nearest flat surface and frags him so full of transfluid there's no way he's not sparked up. The autobots won't execute or even imprison them if they're expectant parents: sparklings without healthy parents don't grow up well, and with any luck the baby will come out with their sire's original alt mode. Shockwave may be a warframe now but his CNA is completely civilian. If their baby is going to have a good life, they'll need to get lucky and inherit his alt.

Starscream knows it's the most accessible failsafe they have: not even Arcee would lay a finger on him so long as he has an innocent newspark nestled close to him . Theyll have access to energon and shelter and the autobots won't be able to protest because they're prioritizing rebuilding the population over everything else. They're an endangered species, after all.

But despite all that, Starscream bitches constantly. He's got monstrous cravings and his fuel tank is a bottomless pit: it's pretty obvious he's eating for more than just two. In true seeker fashion he's got multiple infant sparks orbiting his, 4 of them: assumably 3 seekerlings and an extra civilian. He's sore everywhere, in his pedes and ankle joints, in his wings, even his wings are aching. He's always starving but the bitties pressing on his fuel tank means he throws up if he drinks too fast, for the entirety of the carrying cycle. It's really rough on him, honestly.

Shockwave, just by nature, isn't anywhere near as emotionally available as Starscream needs him to be. But he does his damn best to take good care of him: he may not be able to feel love and joy like he used to, but he has a sense of muted pride and appreciation. Starscream is preserving his future and giving him a legacy all at once. The intense demands on his body are clearly taking a great toll on him. So he tries to make it as comfortable as he can for him, the highest quality energon they can manage and even using his technological know-how to make some comfy fibers for a few wing cushions.

Starscream doesn't know how to show his appreciation because he has -5 points in his Emotional Intelligence stat, so he just grabs Shockwave and demands affection. Usually late at night, creeping into Shockwave's room. The two of them are living together in light of the sparklings, and as time goes on Starscream abandons his room entirely. Moves into Shockwave's space and always worms his way under his arm, demanding him to, "Hold me like I deserve! I'm carrying your spawn, the least you can do is rub my wings."

When the sparklings are born, Shockwave was right: three tiny, scrawny little Vosians with a single civilian ground frame. He struggles to hold them, only having one arm, but tries his best. Starscresm is preening like a peacock because look at how beautiful they are! The first new citizens of New Vos, brought into the world by their Crown Prince! Take that autobots! As soon as he's able to walk again he's strutting around with all 4 of them--even the grounder--and showing off so smugly to everyone. He doesn't trust the bots around them but wants them to know now he's truly invincible for the next several million years. They won't hurt a carrier with dependent children so political immunity, here he comes!

Eventually, I like to imagine that the shadowplay and empurata are reversed or at least treated, alleviating some of the symptoms and allowing for the regaining of further emotional range. When it happens, and Shockwave gets to hold his children for the first time? You'd be hard pressed to find a more radiant smile anywhere on Cybertron, and Starscream is honestly floored at how handsome he is. He's only ever known Shockwave post-empurats: he had no idea he had such a beautiful face! He'd of course seen pictures of Senator Shockwave, of course, but they never did him justice. Shockwave looks so bright and cheerful softly cooing at his babies, poking their cheeks and holding their little servos, bouncing them and making them giggle. Shockwave is too enamored with them to notice him staring, but afterwards when they climb into berth that night, Starscream suggests perhaps giving Shockwave some political immunity too 👀 besides, an aerie isn't an aerie without at least a few dozens sparklings running around, so shouldn't they get to work making more?

They take turns, going forward, on who carries: Shockwave second, Starscream third, Shockwave fourth, etcetera etcetera until they're satisfied 🤭 as it turns out, these two really, really like making and having sparklings, and are a better match than they ever thought possible.

#ask game #shockstar

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

*struts about flaunting my infant*

#repost #memes #rats #fancy rat #wild #kittens #< baby rats are called this leave me alone cat people jfc #personal hall of fame #the infant strut post

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Hopper pulls up to the library, thankful to get a spot up front. He steps out of the vehicle and makes his way inside, Powell behind him.

Hopper takes off his hat as he enters the building, making sure to send a big smile to the librarian.

"Hey, Marissa. How you doin'?"

The disapproving look on Marissa's face never left as she spoke.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

"What?"

"You could have at least called, said, 'Marissa! Hey, it's not gonna work out. Sorry, I wasted your time. I'm a dick.'"

Powell was unsure of what to do; he looked from Marissa to Hopper, waiting.

Hopper only stares ahead for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally, with a subtle smirk, he mutters,

"Yep."

She looks to him, shaking her head expectantly. He seemed at a loss for words again as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Uh... Maybe we could go out again next week?" He offers, hoping for the best. She slowly turns her head to Powell and gives him a 'is he for real?' look. In turn, Powell slowly looks over to Hopper awkwardly. Hopper, already knowing he chose his words poorly, visibly cringed, and was eager to change the subject.

"Newspapers? You guys got newspapers around here?"

Marissa had shown them over to the filing cabinet and started pulling out drawers, naming the selections.

"We have the New York Times, the Post, all the big ones. Organized by year and topic. You can find the corresponding microfiche in the reading room." She briefly gestures behind her.

"Okay, we're looking for anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory."

"Well, shouldn't you be looking for that missing kid?"

"Yeah." He states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We are."

She nods her head, suspicious.

"Uh, so, why don't you start with the Times, and we'll check out the Post."

Marissa scoffs and looks behind her to Powell, unsure if he's serious. She turns back to Hopper and lets out a soft 'hmph!' before strutting away. Powell steps forward and lowers his voice in a questioning tone.

"The librarian?"

Hopper shrugs wildly before diving into the drawers of files.

The two men had gathered a handful of files and set to work in the other room. Each at their own microfiche, reading every column.

Hopper scanned another column that caught his attention.

'ALLEGED EXPERIMENTS, ABUSE' by T. Bridges.

"Terry Ives' legal case against embattled research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner suffered another setback today when the district attorney's office formally refused to press criminal charges against Brenner, his fellow researchers, assistants, or the project's sponsors, citing lack of evidence. Local law enforcement executed a search..."

Next column.

'MKULTRA EXPOSED' by T. Bridges

"The trust of the American people has been shaken to its core as a special inquiry into a covert CIA operation, code-named MK ULTRA, has exposed the extensive details about that which has been haunting the nation for the past decade. Six subjects have come forward..."

This particular column was accompanied by a negative of seven people. Five of which were slightly disheveled, in hospital gowns. A man in a turtleneck and blazer stood obediently in the back. A man in a fancy suit and tie, holding a clipboard stood front and center. A man with whom Hopper guessed to be Brenner.

Next slide.

'DR. MARTIN BRENNER NAMED IN LAWSUIT' by A. Ward - Staff Writer

"Senior researcher Doctor Martin Brenner and seven other staff researchers have been named in a new lawsuit filed today on behalf of former federal research study participant, Terry Ives. Dr. Brenner's attorney in conjunction with the Department of Energy has asked the circuit court to seal the details of the lawsuit until the attorney general's office can determine that no federal..."

Hopper found himself more engrossed and confused as he read.

"...her newborn daughter for scientific research. Following an investigation, the district attorney has already declined to press criminal kidnapping charges against the research facility and staff, citing lack of evidence. Dr. Brenner's attorney called Ms. Ives' allegations baseless and tragic, citing Dr. Brenner's excellent reputation, his twenty recent peer-reviewed scientific papers..."

The next slide was a short column with another accompanying photo. Although the picture was small and blurry, it wasn't hard to see the grief-stricken features on the young woman.

TERRY IVES SUING - 'They took my daughter' by Benjamin Buck

"After the district attorney's office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.

Ms. Ives' suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and multiple allegations of kidnapping; both attempted and successful..."

Hopper sighed, trying his best to swallow all of this new information.

'What the hell has been happening in this damn town?'

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Three. One. Five. The numbers on the strange new bracelet read three one five.

Thankfully, El was able to find her way back outside by the large telephone pole where Mike told her to meet them. But El was still nervous. She just hoped no one had spotted her.

El couldn't find it in her ability to stay still. She couldn't stop pacing and she was subconsciously shaking out her hands, her nerves shot.

'What if someone saw her?'

She eagerly checked the bracelet, muttering aloud to herself.

"Three-one-five. Three-one-five. Three-one-five..." her voice turned soft as her confidence wavered. The only thing that was able to take her attention away from the bracelet was the familiar sound of meowing next to her.

Shocked, she looked over to see a scrawny orange cat staring at her from the other side of the fence. It began to meow again and panic and guilt crashed over her as once again another terrible memory resurfaced.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

The white cat in the cage before Eleven let out a terrible hiss at her. Her head began to shake as she strained her ability. The combination of the cat growling and hissing and the frantic beeping of the machines was enough to push her even further.

She didn't want to. She never wanted to hurt this poor creature. But she knew that if she didn't, she would have to face the consequences. She would have to go back there. The cat gave out another deep growl and Eleven tried to the best of her ability not to cry. Not to break.

The cat began snarling, and it quickly turned to whimpers of pain. Eleven was freely crying now as she looked between the frightened cat and Papa. She gave one final look at the cat before yanking the wires off her head in defeat.

No. She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She looked at Papa defeated. She shook her head in defiance, though her sobbing gave away her true feelings. He only stared at her in disapproval.

"No! No!" She struggled and kicked. She fought back with all her might while Papa stood at the end of the hallway. Doing nothing.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!" She screamed her throat raw as the men dragged her away, yet as always Papa only watched it happen.

"No!" Her shrieks grew more violent as she neared the room.

She couldn't go back in there.

She couldn't.

The men tossed her inside and began closing the door.

She wouldn't.

Eleven stood to her feet and before they could close the steel door, she threw it open in a fit of rage, her attention quickly shifting to one of the men doing this her. In the very next instant, his back was thrown into the ceramic just behind him. His limp body slipped to the floor, leaving a large hole in the tile.

The second man spared a second to look before turning to her to try and restrain her.

Before he could even step foot in the room, he was dead on the floor, his neck snapped. All with the flick of her head.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion, she collapsed against the wall, her nose and ears bleeding.

Papa appeared. He took one look at the cracked wall, to the collapsed man, and then at Eleven. Yet she couldn't move. She was completely drained, all she could do was stare at him. He slowly stepped towards her, staring at her.

She looked up at him in fear of what would happen next, and what did was not something she could have anticipated. He slowly reached his hands out, cupping her face. Sobs wracked her body, and he stared at her in awe.

"Incredible."

He reached down, hooking an arm under her legs, th arried her like an infant. He carried her out of the room and down the hallway, staring at her sobbing form as if he hadn't been the one to cause it.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"El!"

El turned her head to see Mike, Y/n, Lucas and Dustin. They were walking their bikes across the muddy grass in her direction.

Mike looked to her concerned as he, as well as the others, turned their bikes around.

"You okay?"

Relieved to see her friends, she nodded her head.

Mike gave the seat of his bike a few pats.

"Hop on. We only have a few hours."

Hesitantly, she walked forward. But she complied nonetheless and got on Mike's bike, and the five of them peddled off.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five us were walking our bikes through the woods. Dustin and Lucas were in the back, while Mike and El were just a few steps in front of me. El was looking around as she walked and suddenly I felt her eyes on me. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my cut.

I got it to stop bleeding eventually, but I don't know how I will ever explain this to Mom. She worries so easily. And, I don't think I have ever had a cut this big but I'll survive. My thoughts are cut short when I become very aware of the fact that El had fallen back next to me and was now looking at me with concern.

"Why did they hurt you?" Her voice came out very soft but was laced with concern.

"Huh?" I asked surprised.

El extended her arm out and pointed to my chin. I looked down, upset with how things went today.

"Oh, that. I uh, well... I was tripped. By this mouth breather, Troy."

Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"'Mouth breather?'"

"Yeah. You know, a dumb person,"

I suddenly grew quiet, and El noticed.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

I paused. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll be ok." I said.

I knew what she meant but I didn't think it was noteworthy to bring up how I was feeling.

"Y/n." I turn to look at her and she is giving me a knowing look. "Friends tell the truth."

I began to fight tears that were stinging my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall.

"I just... I just miss him. Will, I mean. And the things Troy was saying..." I began feeling myself get worked up again at the mere thought of it. "They were awful. Truly awful, and I just... I'm tired. And worried. And I just want to find my friend."

There was suddenly a somber silence over the group that was quickly broken by El's soothing tone.

"Y/n," she said sternly, pulling my eyes to her. There was a soft demand behind her eyes, willing my gaurd down. "I understand."

I looked at her, a grateful smile on my features and my voice came out in a weak whisper.

"Thank you, El."

She gave me a warm smile in return. It very much resembled the one I gave her the first night we met. It was at this moment I knew. I had just found myself a very unique and powerful friendship; one that stood out from my friendship with the party.

El and I have a lot more in common than I thought.

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #y/n henderson #stranger things x reader #x male reader #x m!reader

[doubleeord]

This post contains spoilers for You, season three.

Well, the inevitable finally happened. At the end of You season three, rotten Joe Goldberg killed Love. In retrospect, the season was always hurtling toward this big finish—the only possible outcome of a toxic relationship built on obsession and mutual murder habits. สล็อตโรม่า สล็อต

It was, in the show’s pulpy tradition, a thrilling conclusion, with Joe not only killing Love, but also chopping off his own toes and burning their house down so he could fake his death and conveniently frame Love as the murderous femme fatale of Madre Linda. So, what’s a guy to do after committing multiple homicides, abandoning his infant son, and faking his own death? Go to Paris, of course!

That’s right: season three of You ends with Joe entering his Eat, Pray, Love era. Good stuff. Parfait, even, getting Joe out of the claustrophobic suburbs and giving his life a hard refresh. He doesn’t seem to want to live this way for long, though. In actuality, he’s searching for Marienne (Tati Gabrielle), his latest love (not to be confused with his former love, Love). But after getting a chilling warning from Love, Marienne took her daughter Juliette and fled the suburbs. Joe, as he is wont to do, becomes determined to find her, heading to Paris. “All I know, mon amour, is I’ll search the world if I have to,” he vows as he struts past milling Parisians, the Eiffel Tower looming fuzzily in the distance behind him.  สล็อตcq9

The finale doesn’t give away too much about Joe’s new life, except to reveal that he goes by Nick now and he’s comfy enough in the city to go to a buzzing cafe without a baseball cap on. Apparently his true crime infamy back in the States wasn’t big enough to reach the French papers. But it makes sense that Joe would head to the city of love after losing Love, indulging in all his sick romantic whims. Let’s just imagine what his life will be like there for a moment, shall we? He’ll stroll past bakeries that will remind him of his once-beloved Love, a pang in his chest every time he sees a fresh tart. He’ll dodge American tourists in the Latin Quarter, and quietly linger by murderinos killing time at Père Lachaise. He’ll trade his baseball cap for a beret and then back to a baseball cap when he realizes no one does that. สล็อตjdb

[msotherworldly]

The Cracked Mirror: Chapter One

This is the first chapter of my work in progress, The Cracked Mirror. It is the first book in The Children of Pandora series - I’ve written several books in the series, but am in the process of editing the first. This means this chapter will be subject to change after I’ve involved beta readers and editors. I’ve already done a few revisions myself, but am reaching a point where I’ll need to involve others.

Admittedly, I’m nervous about sharing this with others. I consider it training, though - if people on here read it, then I can handle people reading it as an actual book. It sounds like a silly thing to be nervous over, but us writers get overly protective of our work. It’s like deciding to post pictures of your newborn infant online (or so I think; I don’t have any experience of having a newborn so...)

Please note that this story is for adults. That said, if you’ve already watched Game of Thrones and read multiple Stephen King books, I probably can’t destroy your innocence beyond that. I also don’t plan to post more than two or three chapters, because...spoilers. With those disclaimers out of the way, here is the first chapter.

CHAPTER ONE: THE CORNER

Mommy paraded herself up and down the walk. There were dozens of people below: there was the family of Talking Alligators, their scales shiny under the streetlight’s orange glow. There were the Beast sisters; they looked like slim, beautiful Human women. They had smooth skin and fine blonde hair, but what marked them out were their long rabbit’s ears, brown and longer than their faces. Fluffy white tails, no larger than cotton balls, wagged from above their butts. Though they were dressed in fishnet tights and glossy corsets, the tails were not apart of their costumes.

    The Bunny Twins tittered as a glossy car pulled up. I couldn’t make out the man, but he opened the door and they hopped in. Sometimes people didn’t come back to the Corner after jumping into a car like that.

    Mommy could be one of those people.

    Turtle whores passed. Their shells shimmered with brilliant reds and purples where they had painted them. They moved slowly, but gracefully; every movement on the Corner was a dance.

    There were others still, the Anthromorphs who plied their trade along with the rest. They were so called because they were anthropomorphic—they retained the overall appearance of the Talking Animals, but they were built and walked like the Humans.

    A Foxmorph flagged a car down: the driver was a Mer, legally of the “Human” class despite his mauve skin and the hair and eyes that were a darker shade of the same colour.

    The Bunny Twins glowered at the Fox, their competition; I joined my glare with theirs. I guess that’s why Dad calls her a “crafty vixen.”

    Mother watched the car with eyes that were at once wistful and relieved. Daddy had accused her of not trying hard enough, but competition was abundant on the Corner.

    Mommy leaned against a wall, her sigh visible. She always looked odd, garish in her form fitting dress. It was black, with red ruffles for it’s trim, and it only came to her knees. Her back was left open, showing each knob of her spine. Her amber arms had been painted with a cream, but I could still make out the bruises.

    Mom was an Elf, with pointed ears larger than her face and a nose that was tiny and upturned, coming to sit directly below her eyes. The lips were a small bow; even when she was sad, the corners quirked up as if to smile.

    I scanned the silhouettes of skyscrapers. In the distance, city lights glowed and shiny cars passed in droves, their lights blaring.

    The sky was a deep indigo, only the lowest bar of it still a violet colour, tinged with pale mauve clouds, these in turn edged with blue shadows. The sun had set half an hour ago, but the city didn’t wake up until it was gone.

    Shade City never slept, and neither did Mommy. She tossed her strawberry hair as she stopped at another street corner, putting her hands on her hips; she began to walk, swishing her butt back and forth. Her legs seemed longer.

    Cars whistled past her, and she frowned—or grimaced, as she appeared to do.

   Mom stopped in front of the apartment. Glancing up, she met my stare. She wasn’t entirely of Elvish descent: her large eyes were those of a Wolf. A brilliant emerald green, the whites appeared black, as did the eyelids. The colour tapered past so that she appeared to be wearing permanent eyeliner.

    Mommy waved.

    I waved back. I enjoyed these evenings when Dad was gone. Mom smiled more when he was.

    When she turned away, I stared up at the line of the city. Above the skyscrapers, the castle loomed. It was a dark, brooding blue shape in this light. I could only imagine the Royals, and the members of the High Class, within as they strutted about in clothes which were as archaic as their thinking.

    They wore waistcoats and great robes with flowing, velvet capes. The Earthlings would have described their fashions as “Victorian” or “Medieval.” It was hardly practical...but then, nothing about the rich, about our sick city, was practical.

    I was only eight, and already I knew that there was something deeply wrong with how we lived. More than that, I knew Mom was unhappy.

#dark fantasy #writing wip #wip #am writing #am writing fantasy #fantasy novel #work in progress #fantasy series #writeblr #writers #writing #creative writing #fantasy books #self publishing #self published author #bookish #reading #fantasy writer #books #indie books

[followerspurchase]

TikTok Marketing 101

When pop feeling Taylor Swift introduced her single"Me" in April 2019, the tune went viral instantly. It Includes Brenden Urie of Stress! At The Disco and the music, the movie is among the these two dancing and singing at a kaleidoscope of light colors. Right following the launch, Swift's TikTok accounts posted a video in the movie using all of the Hashtag, #AnotherLikeMe, and it is just a lyric in the song. "Show us the most effective re-creation of the dancing, utilize MEdancechallenge, and we'll locate our favs," the accounts posted.

Weekly after, #AnotherLikeMe had obtained significantly more than 3 million viewpoints. Also, #Medancechallenge had obtained over 500,000 perspectives on TikTok. It finished up being an advertising triumph for Swift.

If you're unsure yet why and how exactly to adopt this humorous and irreverent stage, this can be our four finest tiktok følgere køb promoting guidance.

1) Hashtag Challenge

In 2018, hot late-night TV host Jimmy Fallon contested The Tonight Show audiences to publish videos of those rolling about on to the floor, for example, individual tumbleweeds to Western songs on TikTok from the #tumbleweedchallenge. By ancient 2019, over 8,000 #tumbleweedchallenge movies were shared around TikTok. The clear answer made him follow yet another TikTok challenge, requesting his audiences to generally share clips of those drawing mustaches inside their faces by having an indelible marker.

The duty would be a massive part of TikTok's charm and achievement. At any moment, there'll be many challenges that consumers are engaging in. The notion of the #HashtagChallenge involves users carrying a concept, whether humorous, bizarre, or needing some gift, and iterating onto it utilizing their movies. Brands utilize struggle in precisely exactly the same manner Taylor Swift failed by hard TikTok users to produce movies inspired by the brand's authentic video.

2) Creative, Viral Articles

Back in April 2019the the German football team Bayern Munich established the official profile TikTok planning to achieve prospective young lovers. Even though a team seems to be an unlikely match for a program that spreads viral, so 15-second movies of teenagers performing quirky, humorous items, football players'inclination to observe their intentions by dance on the area made this a good game.

Bayern Munich's TikTok content plan, run in the club headquarters in Germany, involves the social networking group posting several clips weekly of gamers strutting their stuff. As the team started its profile, it's gotten nearly 80 000 lovers, and its first 11 articles have observed more than 4 million occasions.

In 2018 in america alone, over 26 million active consumers invested, typically, 46 minutes each and every day on the TikTok. However, together with the program still in its infant shoes, there's a true opportunity for entrepreneurs to expand their manufacturers'achievement and vulnerability since it's not yet as bloated as platforms like Instagram and Snapchat. Spontaneous, viral articles can, therefore, get you a good deal farther, where there's less competition for consumers'interest. Additionally it is more economical to enlarge your promotion on TikTok in case you need to venture into advertisements. Most manufacturers utilising the program have begun small, with this particular kind of natural content to check on the waters.

With this system offering users the unlimited capacity to become creative, besides, it works especially well for manufacturers who're selling innovative content and assistance. Following GlobalWebIndexout of 10 TikTok, consumers share songs they prefer to social networking, also 53 percent share songs videos mostly. That's precisely why artists such as for instance for instance Swift were one of the extremely first to catch the chance TikTok was introducing.

[thepanicoffice]

Brush with Death

[...]

Through plague, famine, financial crisis, and bourgeois summer music festival season, the Panic Office has always been there for its dedicated, maladjusted, slightly simple readership.

We have long prided ourselves on providing a faintly nourishing mental gruel of content – a sort of intellectual starvation rations – to keep your grey matter from wasting away entirely. This has never been more important than now, when you remain confined indoors reflecting on the senselessness of your own existence and the cruel accident of your birth.

But we also like to keep things light and cheerful.

So, let’s talk about DEATH.

I don’t regularly check the Office’s post-box but I would assume we have been inundated with glowing feedback on my semi-regular jaunts through art history. Having graduated primary education, I consider myself to meet all the criteria to be classed as a fine art scholar and well-equipped to take you on a brief tour of death in the visual imagination of the West.

It’s as well to remind ourselves that the darkness that dwells beyond the precipice of the mortal coil has occupied the thoughts of our ancestors since the first time some unwashed maniac picked up a wet clot of pigments and, for reasons best known only to them, decided to draw something they could only see in their head.

Let us go, and don’t fear the reaper. But don’t make eye contact with him either, for God’s sake. That’s just asking for trouble.

[...]

Unknown, Renaissance

Death has not always been a figure of fear – here we see his unmistakable skeletal form strutting and jiving along, barely clad in an entirely superfluous toga, like a slightly-less creepy John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Actually, it is probably that self-same fever that has claimed the life of this chubby-wristed infant. However, as I assume was probably the case for most people alive in the Middle Ages, he doesn’t look very sad to be going. If I’d have been born only to discover that I had no access to warm towels and was forced to empty my bowels out of a window like a common Welshman, I’d have embraced death as a friend too.

Death and Life, Gustav Klimt, 1915

This gaudily garbed grim cuts a sinister figure. He brandishes, with menace, the distinct gnarly form of a Nice ’n’ Spicy Nik Nak – its seemingly harmless, even comical, appearance at odds with the often-lethal sodium content contained within. The spectre leers at this writhing tissue of existence, threatening it with, presumably, heart disease and morbid obes– Ooh , is that a nipple? It is! Great painting. Though it is distractingly close to that child. That sort of spoils my enjoyment.

What were we talking about? Oh yes, Death. In summary, it’s hard to be too fearful when it’s stalking around in vibrant patchwork robes that Elton John would consider unforgivably tasteless and showy.

Death and the miser, Hieronymus Bosch, 1490

This irritatingly long and hard-to-crop image (it’s clear little if any thought was given to future generations of facetious technophobe bloggers by Mr Bosch) requires quite a lot of unpacking. Its dense and layered symbolism is obscure but, when one has assumed one can easily decipher art for as long as I have, its meaning becomes clear: bribe the ugly devils that crowd your life with a bulging sack of jealously-hoarded gold and perhaps Death will overlook you when your time comes. Most importantly, shun Christ and his shiny promises even when your demise looks inevitable – that’s exactly what he wants you to do, clever bastard.

Bosch, never one to know when to just put the brush down and step away from a canvas, has included all manner of largely meaningless additional detail. One feature, though, stands out: the hideous, stunted rat-gremlin carries a letter, waving it aloft, unnoticed by all. We will never know what it says. It’s almost a perfect metaphor for the Panic Office itself.

Unknown, 17th Century

Ye Gods! I don’t even know where to look. Someone get this man some damned trousers! And who thought it would be a good idea to equip a blindfolded man with a scythe? Absurd.

Der beste Arzt (The Best Doctor), Alfred Kubin, 1901

I can relate to this one. Death, mysterious and even slightly sexy, carelessly smothers this excessively long man with one hand. This is basically what my hangovers feel like when I’ve been trying to match Ann Widdecombe drink for drink at our monthly cribbage night. Like me, the slender victim clasps his hands in supplication, praying to the mercy of his nameless tormentor that his suffering might end. However, unlike me, this man doesn’t seem inclined drink a vial of baboon’s tears which I have found, after years of trial and error, is really the only effective remedy.

Unknown, Medieval

This is a fascinating depiction of Death as a sort of recognisable breed of pub bore, droning on, hectoring, sharing his conspiracy theories about how the dinosaurs really went extinct, deathsplaining to the living. Look at it, wagging its skeletal figure at this clearly disinterested person. It’s like, we get it: death comes for us all. But there’s no need to be such a dullard about it.

Danse Macabre, Thomas Rowlandson, 1815-6

This is the first work that makes me empathise with Death. All that power and yet every day the same tedium: more double pneumonias, more malarial fevers, more shower slippages. Yawn. Many of the best deaths – bubonic plague, the bloody flux, leprosy – have been all but eradicated (thanks a lot, modern medicine!) So what is left to look forward to? The odd atrocity or elephant goring, sadly few and far between. You think you’re having a boring lockdown? Take a moment to put yourself in Death’s shoes (black crocs I reckon; practical but essentially evil).

Graphic illustration of Lubeck mural, after 1463

We’ve all been to parties like this, cajoled into dancing by others regardless of whether your outfit really allows for it. Now imagine those other partygoers are the dead themselves. Terrible evening.

The Hypochondriac, Richard Dagley, 1827

Speaking as someone who’s died of hypochondria twice before, I know this scene only too well. One sits at home, trying to quietly contemplates one’s… eery painting of a prancing clown… only to spy, from the corner of your eye, Death’s chittering mandibles lurch from the gloom. Meanwhile, your pet cat (or monkey; the quality here is rather poor) offers you no comfort as you descend into a clammy-browed panic. Jesus, I need to get my blood pressure checked. Some days I can’t sleep for the hammering arrhythmia of my backfiring heart, I can feel it behind my eyes, and my sight fades until I am left to face…

La Jeune Fille et la Mort, Marianne Stokes, 1900

…Oh Christ, this guy. This morose tosser. This gloomy dullard. This Sisters of Mercy album cover reject, come to bore you with his self-indulgent monologues about the ‘black lips of encroaching night’ or whatever GCSE poetry he’s most recently written after his parents have sent him to bed for failing to use a drinks coaster on the good table. I don’t know where he got that robe from but the big lads in his form are going to give him hell for that come Monday. But that’s fine, he doesn’t care, he’s used to being misunderstood, as he thinks no one apart from him has ever worn pale makeup and been really into the ‘complex, violence artistry’ of 80s slasher films. Tedious prick. Just get over yourself and end me! No, I’m not impressed by your lamp. Arse.

#Maslin #Editor #Death #Art

[freaky-fridays]

Attention - Zane Hijazi

Request: {anonymous} Would you do a zane request where the reader has been feeling ignored by Zane/like he's not giving her attention so she gets dressed up super sexy for a party to get him going, where some creepy guy starts hitting on her so zane gets protective and takes her home and asserts his dominance if u know what I mean 🤪 your last Jeff smut was so good!!

AN: The smut in this is absolute trash lol my bad

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: swearing, smut, alcohol 

••••••••••••••

"C'mon, Zane! We haven't had a date night in so long." You complained to your boyfriend as he carelessly ignored you, editing away on his computer, "Zane!" You shouted, causing him to look up.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just really wanna get this vlog up tonight." He explained to you and you rolled your eyes, "It should be up before everyone's planning on going out to the club, so we'll be able to go out with them." He smiled at you, but you remained unimpressed.

"Zane, I don't want to go out to a club with all of our friends. I want the two of us to go out and have a nice date like we use to." He looked over at you from his laptop and saw that you were genuinely upset about this. He felt bad, but he had truly been too busy lately.

"I know, I do too. I'm just tired of the jokes about me never posting and not being motivated. I wanna get back to posting regularly. But, we'll go on a date soon, okay?" You nodded, unhappily giving in and slouching back in the couch to go on your phone.

You didn't even know the last time you and Zane had been on a date, or even the last time he paid attention to you for longer than five minutes. You would invite him over, but he'd always have an excuse to cancel. Whether it was going to the gym, filming with David, or doing something for his own channel, you were never a top priority. You couldn't even remember the last time you had slept together. It was slowly eating you up inside, but you never fully expressed it to Zane out of fear of being the 'manipulative and self centred girlfriend'.

You stayed at Zane's house for a bit longer, before deciding you'd go home to get ready by yourself to go out that night. Zane said goodbye to you without even leaving his spot on the couch, and you left twice as grumpy as you were when you got there.

You hadn't texted or called Zane since you left his house, and although you knew it wasn't affecting him at all, you were extremely annoyed. Staring into your closet, you decided to wear something you knew would get Zane's attention.

You devilishly pulled on the skin tight skinny jeans that hugged your curves in all the right ways, and paired it up with a red tank top that was low enough to show off your cleavage perfectly. You  perfected your hair and make up, before throwing on a black leather jacket and making your way to David's house to meet up with your friends.

You planned on playing hard to get with Zane the entire night. You knew once he saw you, and saw that you weren't paying attention to him, that it'd drive him insane. And you couldn't wait.

When you arrived at David's you saw Zane's car parked on the side of the road, indicating that he was already there. You strutted up David's driveway and entered the house full of confidence, immediately getting compliments from some of the girls.

"Damn, Y/N!" Carly called at you from the couch.

"Holy shit, you look so good!" Natalie added. You watched as all of the boys turned their attention to you. Their eyes widened and they had to stop their mouths from parting. You made eye contact with Zane, who was practically melting right there. You looked at his shocked face and chuckled, before walking right past him and sitting on the couch with the girls.

You could tell Zane was confused as to why you weren't talking to him. He'd come over and sit by you, trying to be affectionate or trying to talk to you, and you'd immediately brush him off. It was frustrating the hell out of him, and you were loving every second of it.

When it was time to head to the club, you quickly joined Carly in the back of the tesla so that you wouldn't have to sit next to, or on top of Zane. When he saw you already seated, a hurt and confused expression covered his face, but he quickly brushed it off and sat in the middle row with Todd.

At the club, Zane would usually be the drunkest of the crew. However, tonight he sat at the bar with a single beer in his hand, moping around because his pretty girlfriend wouldn't give him attention.

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life. When you noticed Zane wasn't getting drunk, you decided you'd drink a bit more than usual because you wouldn't have to take care of him afterwards.

You were dancing with Natalie as David filmed, with not a care in the world, when someone came up behind you and placed their hands on your waist. Natalie gave you a grossed out look, and you turned around to see some random guy trying to dance with you.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend." You told the man, gently pushing his chest away from you.

"And I have a girlfriend, what's that got to do with anything?" He slurred, clearly highly intoxicated.

"It means I'm not interested. Now get off me." You tried to push him off once again. David immediately made his way to the bar to get Zane, as you continued to try to get the drunk asshole to leave you alone.

"Come on baby, you're telling me you dressed like this and didn't want random guys to hit on you?" He whispered in your ear.

"She dressed like that for me, and nobody else, jackass." Zane came out of nowhere, grabbing the guy by his collar and shoving him away from you.

"Oh, so you're the boyfriend?" The guy smirked, stepping up to Zane to show he wasn't afraid. You quickly grew anxious. You had never seen Zane fight before, and you weren't confident that he would win.

"Yeah, is that a problem?" Zane stepped up to the man, bumping his chest with his own. This caused the guy to push Zane back, and Zane leaped for the guy, but was held back by Todd and David. The guy was also held back by two people you didn't know, but assumed were his friends.

You stepped infant of Zane and stroked his face, trying to calm him down. His eyes met yours and he looked deeply concerned, "Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?" You smiled at him and nodded your head.

"I'm okay, Zane. Thank you." You leaned up and kissed him.

"I think we should go now." David spoke up, as everyone agreed. You all made your way to the tesla, and David started his familiar trip of taking everyone home. This time instead of sitting in the back with Carly, you sat on Zane's lap in the middle row.

When David dropped the two of you off at Zane's, it was silent until you were behind the closed door. You were walking towards Zane's bedroom, when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

"I know what you were doing tonight." He informed you in a raspy voice. You swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of how to respond.

"Oh, yeah?" You smirked at him, gathering yourself.

"Yeah. You drove me fuckin' insane." He licked his lips as he looked you up and down and his hands made their way to your waist.

"Well, now you know how I've been feeling." You shrugged, biting your lip. Zane couldn't hold it in any longer. He quickly crashed his lips onto yours, hungrily kissing you. A desire you had both been missing.

Your lips moved rapidly together, biting and licking away as you did your best to get to the bedroom. Zane aggressively removed your jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor and pushing you down onto his bed. He looked down at you, admiring your body that was still covered in clothes.

"You really thought you could tease me all night and get away with it?" He taunted you. You chuckled, before sitting up and pulling the hem of his shirt, bringing him down on top of you. You continued to make out, and you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. He did the same to you, before the two of you decided to efficiently take your own pants off.

You also took your bra off, knowing that Zane attempting to unclip it would take way too long. You climbed into Zane's sheets, soon being joined by him with the condom in his hands. He returned to his position on top of you, and you started kissing his neck.

"Why is your underwear still on?" He asked in a sarcastic tone and you laughed.

"I know you like to take them off with your special technique." You winked at him and he grinned, sliding down to be eye level with your panties before aggressively ripping them off, tearing them into separate pieces. Something he use to always do which you found extremely attractive. He also always bought you a new pair the next day, which you loved.

Zane quickly put the condom on, and slid himself into you. You moaned loudly, finally having the amazing feeling back after being deprived of it for far too long. Zane continued to thrust in and out of you as he groaned and moaned your name into your neck.

"Fuck, Y/N. I'm sorry it's been so long." He breathlessly got out.

"Shut up." You simply replied, kissing him passionately once again.

You were both close to finishing as he began to quicken his pace. You were both grunting and moaning, before you yelled out Zane's name, and he was soon to follow with yelling out yours.

"Fuck, I missed that." Zane admitted, panting heavily as he dropped beside you in the bed.

"Me too." You smiled at him. He opened his arms for you to cuddle him, but you gave him an unsure look, "Zane, you're like, really sweaty." You made fun of him and he got instantly offended.

"Hey!" You laughed, but gave in and cuddled your boyfriend anyways.

"Did I tell you how hot it was when you almost fought that guy tonight?" You looked up at him and he chuckled.

"Did I tell you how scared I was to almost fight that guy tonight?" He admitted and you both let out a laugh.

"Well, I still thought it was hot. Maybe I should dress like that more often so guys will hit on me and you'll get jealous." You teased and he pinched your side, making you squirm.

"Dress like that more, yes. Get hit on by guys, no." He sternly spoke, "You won't need to do that anymore, baby. I'll be giving you all the attention you need.

#zane hijazi #zane hijazi imagine #zane hijazi imagines #zane hijazi smut #zane hijazi fluff #zane hijazi blurb #zane hijazi angst #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #david dobrik #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek imagines #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik blurb #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik imagines #zane hijazi x reader #zane hijazi fanfiction #zane hijazi fanfic

[skippyv20]

On Record Supporting the P&P of Wales

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here quite perturbed by the latest lie titled Blind Item #4. I know it is a PinEvil minion stirring up a bad witches brew but this needs to be addressed for new comers for the record. We do have very real receipts to prove the P&POW are a loving couple first and foremost. They adore and protect their incredibly beautiful (happy) children. They love and respect their parents and elders. They have many friends and millions of fans all over the world. They work hard for their country and are bright, fun-loving people, happy to share. Let's review!!!

1. The very athletic, slender bride, now the POW, did happily carry her children. PW was fascinated with his baby brother's arrival and they both were eager to start their family once married. It's possible he gets nervous now about Catherine's health when she sees a new baby and he jokes about her wanting another. At her age, even for healthy females, having a child is always a risk. We all know how sick with nausea she becomes in the early stages requiring a hospital stay for her first pregnancy. This was a big surprise to the family finding out what she had and how to handle it. All of her births have been handled by the same highly respected medical team at the hospital for royal families. All of her children were witnessed as legitimate, of the body births with royal birth certificates. We saw her standing on the steps of the hospital with her actual post birth tummy not hidden, dazed and amazed looking at what she had just brought into the world. The way they held their brand new babies was natural-as in organic-as in home made by them! The Princess of Wales has commented publicly that she enjoyed the whole process from start to finish, including giving birth. She was totally prepared and excited to experience it personally.

2. In thousands of photos of the Princess of Wales wearing lovely, larger clothes during the pregnancies, a very healthy amount of weight gain happened and her babies were normal weights at birth. She glowed. She behaved like a pregnant woman resting and staying at home more.

3. Her natural growth observed almost weekly was all in the right places. Not carried high or too low or huge one hour and small the next like PinEvil's outrageous ever-changing fake bump. There were never loud popping noises like PinEvil's inflatable apparatus expanding and "farting" when she crouched down (in high heels no less) compressing all that hot air causing a loud whooshing as it refilled when she stood up! At times there was shrinkage happening as it lost air creating strange lumps. Once it swayed widely from the left to the right side of her hips as she strutted in a short dress. It even fell off as they left an event all captured on camera! PinEvil's only weight gain was from wearing the plastic gadget while gaslighting everyone. The rest of her physic never changed.

4. The POW's experience with her three pregnancies has made her so popular and credible when working with other women in early childhood educational and medical groups she sponsors. She can really relate to women going through the changes as well as taking care of infants once home. Children love to reach out to her. She exudes the essence of caring motherhood and kids trust that instinctively. Spending time with her own family has taught her how to deal with all those stages when talking to the public. With the clueless PinEvil, kids and dogs shrink away and turn their heads...all captured on camera!

5. As for the other sordid lies included in this worthless blip, the writer is playing with fire. When the P&P of Wales wed, they were ready to take the next step. He was over the moon that day with love for her and still is. He has one of the most beautiful wives on the planet and enjoys being with her. She lights up and smiles when she looks at him. From this side of the camera, they aren't hiding dark secrets. They shine with honesty as they work together naturally, powering through strenuous careers in a global glass house where only ignorant, desperate, jerks would think to throw stones. Over and out for now...

Spot on! Great stuff Pilgrim…thank you🙂❤️❤️❤️❤️

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

I posted 8,257 times in 2021

1803 posts created (22%)

6454 posts reblogged (78%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.6 posts.

I added 5,925 tags in 2021

#art - 1421 posts

#memes - 782 posts

#rats - 722 posts

#fancy rat - 650 posts

#not rats but worth sharing - 572 posts

#gifs - 492 posts

#dammit i keep forgetting to make and use an ask tag - 342 posts

#videos - 341 posts

#pride - 331 posts

#top percentage - 272 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#he lives states away so i called my grandma and she let me say some goodbyes (he's in a sort of coma but can hear and understand everything)

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

9685 notes • Posted 2021-09-26 21:11:26 GMT

#4

Rat that stares at valid people

13012 notes • Posted 2021-07-15 00:43:27 GMT

#3

*struts about flaunting my infant*

32282 notes • Posted 2021-07-13 04:03:04 GMT

#2

44342 notes • Posted 2021-01-20 22:06:55 GMT

#1

107179 notes • Posted 2021-06-08 22:30:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #ya yee... much more satisfied with this one than the one from my main #muhfuckin. #memes #the push for rat post #the infant strut post #trans #positivity #pride #transfem

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

Convoying For “Freedom”

Since I don’t watch the news, I didn’t know why I heard a honking ruckus three blocks down. When I eventually ventured out with friends that Saturday I could finally see what said ruckus was. Trucks and cars honking as they drove through the city and all the way to the Parliament building. I didn’t know that’s where they were going until we made our way towards the touristy part of town. That whole block along with the entire front of the Parliament building was full of people and trucks and posters and flags. The honking was everywhere and the dogs and infants these folks thought would be smart to bring into that chaos looked around in confusion. It was brought to my attention by my three friends, that don’t live in as much of a bubble as I do, the hullabaloo we were witnessing was known as the “Freedom Convoy”.

Now that it’s been over a month since this stupid idiot parade began, I reckon we all know why to some extent. I heard multiple times that ninety percent of truckers were vaccinated thus leaving me to believe this was the remaining ten plus every other ignoramus that wants to live by their own rules. People were insulted that vaccines were required for those driving long distances and over borders with all the bullshit we keep ordering online. People were tired of wearing a piece of cloth over their face to protect themselves and those around them from various forms of this cursed virus. People wanted all the mandates to be taken down so they could freely infect and possibly kill all the immunocompromised, the old, the young, and the sick. It was a weekly rebellion to show the world every Saturday who the most selfish people are.

Seeing these foolish mortals strut around with their Canadian flags and “freedom” banners was hilarious and infuriating. These people had the audacity to claim we had a tyrannical government that was oppressing us and all our rights were taken away. They said this as they casually flooded the yard of a government building and filled the downtown area with their incessant honking, none of which brought consequences. We’re apparently living in a 1984-Big-Brother-is-watching/Hunger-Games/Nazi-era-part-two situation and yet these people could protest without getting arrested or shot or gassed or tasered. These self identifying  oppressed people brought concert worthy speakers to the front of that Parliament building three weeks in and were having a dance party to classic 2000’s songs whilst police patiently and politely stood on the other side of the street and watched should someone get riled up. The fact this parade of absolute dickishness has been allowed to continue every Saturday, now with officers following along to keep the peace, shows how much of a free country this is.

Referring to my previous post, it’s like these nincompoops want to be oppressed, want to have an evil government that forces the peasants to take arms and rise up to protect what they love and believe in at all costs. These assholes are so privileged that they think our current state of living is the same as Nazi Germany. They think having to wear a mask indoors and getting vaxxed to work so that the pandemic can pipe the fuck down is oppression. And now, what with the horrors in Ukraine going on, this whole thing is even more asinine and insensitive. To be so butt-hurt that the government is more strict now for the purpose of saving lives and helping relieve the pressure on essential workers speaks volumes about how little some care about anyone but themselves.

There’s a reason everyone is short staffed right now. It’s because serving ungrateful, selfish bastards like those making up that wretched convoy broke the employees. Now healthcare is shit because it’s near impossible to find a clinic or a doctor to help with anything. Retail is shit because there are limited cashiers and merchandisers to help so lines are long and dealing with stock is slow. And those remaining are treated like shit. Because the same pieces of garbage that sucked the life out of the first wave of workers get mad and impatient that they can’t have everything they want delivered in the span of a second.

It’s a privileged mindset to think that having a very difficult, worldwide problem to solve won’t require sacrifices and hardships of the everyday person. It's even more privileged a mindset to think that the inconvenience of wearing a mask is worthy of massive protests. Sure vaccines are their own can of worms, but you have people preaching about their love for this country as they call for mild anarchy that are willing to do anything for their “lost freedom”. Yet they aren’t willing to do anything to help save humanity and end the suffering that has ruined so many of us? There is no proper logic or research that can fuel a valid argument for these people so this show of Canadian Pride featuring: to Hell With Canada has no proper foundation and is all for naught.

In the end it’s just a herd of stereotypically southern American farmers but they’re actually Canadian in Canada whining about the pandemic being bad and blaming all the wrong people for that. As a result the Canadian flag is just as annoying to look at as the American one since it’s a challenge to separate the flag from the fools. So congratulations convoy crew, you’ve made me, an American/Canadian half breed, unable to be proud of either country I’m a citizen of. Thanks a lot.

#rants #i am angry #this is bullshit #writing #blog #weeklyblog #friday post

[dfroza]

A story is how our Creator often related to the real lives of people.

to teach. to illuminate spiritual and eternal truth.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 16th chapter of the book of Luke:

Jesus taught his disciples using this story:

“Once a very rich man hired a manager to run his business and oversee all his wealth. But soon a rumor spread that the manager was wasting his master’s money. So the master called him in and said, ‘Is it true that you are mismanaging my estate? You need to provide me with a complete audit of everything you oversee for me. I’ve decided to dismiss you.’

“The manager thought, ‘Now what am I going to do? I’m finished here. I can’t hide what I’ve done, and I’m too proud to beg. I have an idea that will secure my future. It will win me favor and secure friends who can take care of me and help me when I get fired!’

“So the dishonest manager hatched his scheme. He went to everyone who owed his master money, one by one, and asked them, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ One debtor owed twenty thousand dollars, so he said to him, ‘Let me see your bill. Pay me now and we’ll settle for twenty percent less.’ The clever manager scratched out the original amount owed and reduced it by twenty percent. And to another who owed two hundred thousand dollars, he said, ‘Pay me now and we’ll reduce your bill by fifty percent.’ And the clever manager scratched out the original amount owed and reduced it by half.

“Even though his master was defrauded, when he found out about the shrewd way this manager had feathered his own nest, he congratulated the clever scoundrel for what he’d done to provide for his future.”

Jesus continued, “Remember this: The sons of darkness interact more wisely than the sons of light. Use the wealth of this world to demonstrate your friendship with God by winning friends and blessing others. Then, when it runs out, your generosity will provide you with an eternal reward.

“The one who faithfully manages the little he has been given will be promoted and trusted with greater responsibilities. But those who cheat with the little they have been given will not be considered trustworthy to receive more. If you have not handled the riches of this world with integrity, why should you be trusted with the eternal treasures of the spiritual world? And if you’ve not proven yourself faithful with what belongs to another, why should you be given wealth of your own? It is impossible for a person to serve two masters at the same time. You will be forced to love one and reject the other. One master will be despised and the other will have your loyal devotion. Your choice between God and the wealth of this world is no different. You must enthusiastically love one and definitively reject the other.”

Now, the Jewish religious leaders listening to Jesus were lovers of money. They laughed at what he said and mocked his teachings, so Jesus addressed them directly. “You always want to look spiritual in the eyes of others, but you have forgotten the eyes of God, which see what is inside you. The very things that you approve of and applaud are the things God despises. The law of Moses and the revelation of the prophets have prepared you for the arrival of the kingdom announced by John. Since that time, the wonderful news of God’s kingdom is being preached, and people’s hearts burn with extreme passion to receive it. Heaven and earth will disintegrate before even the smallest detail of the Law will fail or lose its power.

“It is wrong for you to divorce your wife so that you can marry another—that is adultery. And when you take that one you lusted after as your wife, and contribute to the breakup of her marriage, you commit adultery again.”

Jesus continued. “There once was a very rich man who had the finest things imaginable, living every day enjoying his life of opulent luxury. Outside the gate of his mansion was a poor beggar named Lazarus. He lay there every day, covered with boils, and all the neighborhood dogs would come and lick his open sores. The only food he had to eat was the garbage that the rich man threw away.

“One day poor Lazarus died, and the angels of God came and escorted his spirit into paradise.

“The day came that the rich man also died. In hell he looked up from his torment and saw Abraham in the distance, and Lazarus was standing beside him in the glory. The rich man shouted, ‘Father Abraham! Father Abraham! Have mercy on me. Send Lazarus to dip his finger in water and come to cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames of fire!’

“But Abraham responded, ‘My friend, don’t you remember? While you were alive, you had all you desired. You surrounded yourself in luxury, while Lazarus had nothing. Now Lazarus dwells in the comforts of paradise and you are in agony. Besides, between us is a huge chasm that cannot be bridged, nor can anyone cross from one realm to the other, even if he wanted.’

“The rich man continued, ‘Then let me ask you, Father Abraham, please send Lazarus to my relatives. Tell him to witness to my five brothers and warn them not to end up where I am in this place of torment.’

“Abraham replied, ‘They’ve already had plenty of warning. They have the teachings of Moses and the revelation of the prophets; let them hear them.’

“ ‘What if they’re not listening?’ the rich man added. ‘If someone from the dead were to go and warn them, they would surely repent.’

“Abraham said to him, ‘If they wouldn’t listen to Moses and the prophets, neither would they be convinced if someone were raised from the dead!’ ”

The Book of Luke, Chapter 16 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 24th chapter of the book of Job that rightly coincides with the above:

[An Illusion of Security]

“But if Judgment Day isn’t hidden from the Almighty,

why are we kept in the dark?

There are people out there getting by with murder—

stealing and lying and cheating.

They rip off the poor

and exploit the unfortunate,

Push the helpless into the ditch,

bully the weak so that they fear for their lives.

The poor, like stray dogs and cats,

scavenge for food in back alleys.

They sort through the garbage of the rich,

eke out survival on handouts.

Homeless, they shiver through cold nights on the street;

they’ve no place to lay their heads.

Exposed to the weather, wet and frozen,

they huddle in makeshift shelters.

Nursing mothers have their babies snatched from them;

the infants of the poor are kidnapped and sold.

They go about patched and threadbare;

even the hard workers go hungry.

No matter how backbreaking their labor,

they can never make ends meet.

People are dying right and left, groaning in torment.

The wretched cry out for help

and God does nothing, acts like nothing’s wrong!

“Then there are those who avoid light at all costs,

who scorn the light-filled path.

When the sun goes down, the murderer gets up—

kills the poor and robs the defenseless.

Sexual predators can’t wait for nightfall,

thinking, ‘No one can see us now.’

Burglars do their work at night,

but keep well out of sight through the day.

They want nothing to do with light.

Deep darkness is morning for that bunch;

they make the terrors of darkness their companions in crime.

“They are scraps of wood floating on the water—

useless, cursed junk, good for nothing.

As surely as snow melts under the hot, summer sun,

sinners disappear in the grave.

The womb has forgotten them, worms have relished them—

nothing that is evil lasts.

Unscrupulous,

they prey on those less fortunate.

However much they strut and flex their muscles,

there’s nothing to them. They’re hollow.

They may have an illusion of security,

but God has his eye on them.

They may get their brief successes,

but then it’s over, nothing to show for it.

Like yesterday’s newspaper,

they’re used to wrap up the garbage.

You’re free to try to prove me a liar,

but you won’t be able to do it.”

The Book of Job, Chapter 24 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, may 1 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about knowing God from a new True nature:

What is the goal of your relationship with God? Is it the hope of paradise where pleasures abound and all your desires are fulfilled? Yeshua taught that the purpose of a relationship with God was to discover divine life by knowing the truth of God revealed in him. He said to his disciples: "This is eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם) that they may know you the only true God, and Yeshua the Messiah whom you have sent" (John 17:3). Knowing God in this way means understanding his heart and character, and learning to become "mature" (i.e., τέλειον, “complete, whole, finished”) through your union with the Messiah (Col. 1:28; Eph. 4:13). Practically speaking we "put on" a new spiritual nature (our "new self") which is created after the likeness of God (כִּדְמוּת אֱלהִים) in true righteousness and holiness (Eph. 4:24). We know and believe who we are as God's beloved children (Rom. 8:29). This is a matter of faith, indeed, but it is also a matter of the will. We must line up our attitudes and emotions in light of the truth of reality...

Immature emotions are out of alignment with what is real, evidencing disordered affections based on illusions. "Putting away childish things" (1 Cor. 13:11) means surrendering or letting die (καταργέω) self-centered emotions and desires, letting go of self-pity or bitterness, and refusing to blame others. Spiritual maturity implies humility, denying yourself, a word that means to stop thinking about yourself (from α-, "not," +ῥέω, "to speak"), and living the truth by sharing God's redemptive vision and mission for others. We must be careful, however, not to drift away, since it is possible to "forget" the truth that once guided our way; and it is possible to become dull of hearing, shortsighted, and to stop growing in relationship with God (Heb. 2:1). Spiritual truth is not merely intellectual but existential: we must earnestly pursue (διώκω) our heavenly calling (Phil 3:14) and this requires the daily and ongoing decision to live before the LORD our God (Psalm 16:8). The invitation to "choose this day whom you will serve" (Josh. 24:15) implies that is your choice - and your responsibility - to draw near to God (James 4:8). We can do this by studying and memorizing Scripture, meditating, praying, and sharing our hope with others. Above all we must ask God for the gift of the Holy Spirit to "bear us up into maturity" (i.e., ἐπὶ τὴν τελειότητα φερώμεθα, Heb 6:1) so that we may learn from our Master who calls us to be joined to his yoke and learn from him (Matt. 11:29). [Hebrew for Christians]

4.30.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

May 1, 2021

Bruising the Devil

“And the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.” (Romans 16:20)

This is an intriguing promise, suggesting that believers can somehow inflict bruises on the devil, who is perpetually seeking to “devour” them (1 Peter 5:8). This promise is a clear allusion to the primeval assurance of Genesis 3:15, when God promised that the unique “seed” of “the woman” would eventually “bruise” (actually “crush”) the head of the old serpent, the devil. This prophecy will finally be fulfilled in Christ’s ultimate victory, when Satan first will be bound for a thousand years in the bottomless pit and then confined forever in the lake of fire (Revelation 20:2, 10).

In the meantime believers, who also in a sense are the woman’s spiritual “seed” (Revelation 12:17), can repeatedly achieve local and temporary victories over Satan and his wiles by resisting him “stedfast in the faith” (1 Peter 5:9). If we resist him as Jesus did with relevant Scripture, then God promises that he will “flee from you” (James 4:7). Such local victories can be obtained over these dangerous teachers whom Satan is using (note Romans 16:17-19, just preceding today’s text) “shortly” in this manner, but we need to be continually alert against his recurrent attacks. The ultimate victory over Satan, of course, will be won only by the Lord Jesus when He returns, and we must “be sober, be vigilant” (1 Peter 5:8) until that time.

Whether we are aware of it or not, we must perpetually “wrestle...against the rulers of the darkness of this world” (Ephesians 6:12), who will be casting “fiery darts” (v. 16) against each believer. Finally, with the sword of the Spirit that is the Word of God (v. 17), we can even by God’s grace inflict spiritual wounds on Satan himself! HMM

[sonofhistory]

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

Dedicated to @gettallmadge and gifted to @maryabolkonskaya

American History RPF 18th Century CE RPF

Nathan Hale (1755-1776)/Benjamin Tallmadge

Benjamin Tallmadge, Nathan Hale, Reverend Benjamin Tallmadge, Susannah Smith Tallmadge (1729-1768), William Tallmadge (1752-1776), Elizabeth Hale, Richard Hale, Samuel Hale, John Hale, Joseph Hale, Elizabeth Rose Taylor, Enoch Hale, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Lost Love, Family, Domestic Bliss, Memories, Separate Childhoods, Childhood, Growing Up, Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religion, Ilness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Part of the Halemadge || Pythias & Damon series

Word Count Thus Far: 9,457 Chapter 3/16

___________________

June 6th, 1755

Coventry, Connecticut

----- I -----

         The earth appeared to be cloaked in an impenetrable blanket of sunlight; born with weakness to fall and strength to rise. As afternoon settled upon the Hale farm, Richard Hale wiped a bead of sweat that had trickled onto his brow. It furrowed as his feet crunched on the dirt path that spiraled into his home. Anxiety was churning like butter in his gut as he pressed his lips until a firm line, shielding his eyes from the streaming sunlight and observing his workmen. He snapped angrily at two of them who were caught in idle chatter with their gentle laughs echoing and resounding across the hills. He fought the urge to come to blows, battling with temptation enough not to head indoors for the sixth time this morning to check upon his wife.

         The summer heat was setting his temper farther on edge and he gritted his teeth, leaning against a fence post and inspecting the rolling ivy of the hills and how it all arose to shimmer in such a delicate emerald under the beautiful late morning breeze. He was almost lost in his own thoughts for a minute and forgot the new child on the way, teeth beginning to ease off the flesh of his lip where it was holding for dear life, searching for some type of consolation. Richard nearly bit his tongue when he heard the shuffling of feet scurrying down the creaking porch to the dirt path leading towards him. Tossed out of his trance the old maid placed a palm down on his shoulder and he spun around to greet her.

         There was a flinch of hope splintering the creases of his eyes. He already knew the child was born a month early.

         “It is a son.” He didn’t care for a section of time before the old nurse flattened her outfit, never releasing her gaze off of his. He was stuck not standing in reality as he blinked several times attempting to comprehend this information. “Mr. Hale, the child is premature.”

         Something shattered within him but he couldn’t exactly place where the cracks were located when the shards dug into his skin--there was a sharp ringing deep within his eardrums and he forgot the sweat that was building up behind his collar. His workers pausing, leaning against their plows and casting their glances in his direction, muttering discretely among one another. A sigh tumbled past his lips and he felt the indent seething from where he’d clamped down.

         Richard strutted, stalking through the mounds to the audience of curious workers that thronged into a culminating crowd. The maid remained stoic in the background, awaiting his return. For a moment they feared he may rage at their sloth but he remained calm with a face of iron, stepping before them. “The lord be praised for the mother and the child. Let him be a worth servant,” the formation of a cross drew breath as he motioned across his chest and smothered himself in the allure of the lambent rather than the perplexed visages of his workers. His scrutiny shot back, focusing, “do as you will with your time.”

         The nurse was still lingered when he came back from the fields and their feet flurried towards the home. Richard swallowed, he’d never lost a child before and he shook his head as if to dispel this thought forever from the cavity of his skull. He stepped close, grasping to open the door before the maid stepped forward, blocking him. “Are you, sir, to name the child a junior?”

         The question tangled him off guard and he grasped for those eager, nagging thoughts that were swimming within him. “He shall be called after that righteous and patriot man, my kinsman, Nathan, and I shall be well pleased if he have a high sense of duty.”

         There was a striking acceptance as she pulled herself aside for him to clear him a path into the struggling air of their crimson home. The sun escaped from his skin as strided inside, feeling relief despite the circumstances. He knew he may burn, but he inched himself closer to the room.

----- II -----

         Premature he was. A bald blossom who struggled for breath--for life--, wind escaping his feeble lungs with great effort. Richard submerged himself within the room and he felt out of place among such misery as one who bursts into laughter at a funeral. Elizabeth seemed tired, exhausted, not paying the slightest stretch of attention when the door slid open across the floor. The child was not nestled someplace safe within her arms, resting he was propped on his back against a feather pillow. Eyes only sooty slivers, shut to the light seeping in through the window. He scooped the child gently into his hands, he was hardly larger than his wrist with a tiny, soft and delicate skull. A little noise left his chest when the body position shifted. So beautifully peaceful in a special way.

         An emotion overtook him. He was fragile, he was modest and there wasn’t a thing he would change. “Elizabeth?”, a humble voice came forth, and he’d never felt smaller in his existence. Everything was pulsating around him, heart sweltering through cracking ribs. She did not budge from where she lay, vision finding the clouds a sense of more heaven than anything she’d created. “Wouldn’t you like to hold, Nathan?”, he asked, gulping and he was reluctant to give him up.

         “Nathan?”, she turned her neck across the pillow at this, hair covering an eye, her pale hands with bulging veins were too depleted of energy to remove. Her voice stole every ounce of strength from her dripping vocal chords.

         He managed a grin, rocking Nathan lightly in his arms, a nod nestled his chin.

         She sighed, “I am exhausted.”

         “Rest, Elizabeth, you must.”

         Her brows furrowed. “Richard, no”, he tilted his survey, dabbing the sweat from her forehead in bewilderment, “It’s something deeper, inherently present, it’s on the fibers of my skin...” her eyelids slinked downwards and she forced them open with difficulty, “...tendons, my eyes.”

         Still, her husband was perturbed, lacking any concept, pushing himself closer and farther onto the mattress till he grew to her side and her eyes seemed to avoid the infant he held in his arms.

         “Give all my hours of sleep to my child so that he may carry my strength, I am too worn by noise and silence… light and dark… hope and despair.”

         It was the sound of her voice that traveled into his blood like a thorn, vanishing directly into him to the core of who he always was. Breathing each other's dreams like air. Her eyes shut, face drifting into the pillow and he truly accepted the methods of her tongue, digesting her words. She seemed worn by the world, condensed into nothing that sleep could save.

----- III -----

         It would be two weeks before she grew strength enough to rise her head. Three before she could hold the child who’d swiped from her cavern such eager desire enough. And in those weeks there was a fear as you’d naught feel no other; a concern every moment would be Nathan’s last and the wife under his vows would struggle for air in vain. Grief was digging graves in his heart where tombstones were commencing to rise from the parting grass. She was porcelain, the skin of her wrist a touch of ivory, the veins underneath little paths to unknown sea coves left undiscovered. Her eyelids were a shade of gray, faded from the earth's misadventures and all living life, he could not reach her where she was inconsolable. It cloaked him, hovering like a shadow above his humanity. She’ll survive in his heart where she already rested.

________________________

June 29th, 1755

Coventry, Connecticut

----- IV -----

         Elizabeth held her son for the first time and love began, a tinge, a dash, consuming her; it entangles the body until she was devoured with this infatuation. She already had a flock of children when this one arrived, Samuel and John were already becoming scholars, respectively eight and seven years old by the time their brother came to be. They were young and Elizabeth rarely saw them before dinner, she’d scold them for the mud splattered on their ankles and the noise their shoes made when drenched. Joseph and Liza, five and four, did not quite understand they were not solely entitled to their mother’s affections any longer, the old maid Rachel wrangled them, they were both loud, pranksters those two and she couldn’t help a laugh at the image of her children and the mess they made attempting to shove unfinished dinner into their pockets. Then, there was Enoch; quiet with every hint of kindness and good in the world, brimming with intellect even nearing two, he was shy and motioned with pointed fingers to items he requested. She recognized that Enoch was the sole child who simply wished to entertain her in every way possible, catching her attention for her benefit and not his.

         The honeymoon phase settled and it was a relief for time to herself as her husband whisked Nathan away. She thought, perhaps, it would lessen the attraction. The less attached she became the easier it would be to let go. Nathan was not a strong child, lungs still weak and eyes only slits that allowed only a glance into a brilliant hidden spectacles lying below. He had not even vigor enough to cry, mouth bobbing open until she picked him up, stuffing him to her breast and the struggle parted. It was opposite, with every attempt not to grow adoration for his uncertain and ailing form she grew farther into cherishment for his refinement and slick scalp. She revered him as a month earlier she was able to slip from bed.

         There was a hand underneath her arm, propping her up, “There you go…”, it was an affable and present voice with every touch of sensibility. Her husband clutched her, cupping a palm to her slender waist.

         She should be grateful, she thought, but the careful tiptoeing around her frame was starting to entrench her with a growing build of irritation. “I’m not a child”, she murmured, releasing off his shoulder believing she’d done this so many times before. Richard tried to stop her, she dismissed him before taking a step and leading herself to the window she had not seen out of for so long a time by herself. The day was faint, thick charcoal clouds hung low in the sky though the heat was ever present like a suffocating fog. Her legs gave way as she grasped for a small  corner of the wall, tearing herself upwards without health to do so. The rolling hills before her home disappeared from grasp, head sinking from the window pane and she expected to collide to the floorboards, unable to catch herself.

         Two arms tugged her upright just as her skull neared contact with the flooring. “Elizabeth”, Richard cried, lifting her into his arms and leading her back to the bed where she collapsed. Hot tears began to fill her eyes, digging her nails into her hair and tilting her head forward. Would I ever become well again? This terror trickled into a wave up her spine and made her shoulders shudder in panic as ice gripped her heart in the most painful places, the bones of it all. She recollected everything that had brought her here and fought temptation to blame that… child. “Elizabeth?”

         His soothing and coaxing vocals caused her to tip her head up to meet his gaze. There was sympathy there as if only pain defined her. “I wish just to see the earth,” she was desperate, sick of being confined to a bed and it was starting to be the only thing she knew, steadily becoming crazy upon the very idea of it.

         Her husband did not coddle her as one would a child. He reached an arm down, transferring strength enough for her to stand to the elements, “Hold me now and you can walk across the years.”

         The next day he shuffled the bed to brim the window where she could follow the setting sun as it flashed across the bed with colors only matched in a piece of artistry.

----- IV -----

         She transferred her hurricanes into his heart, his soul was a starlit sea, giving her mind to him as meteors. Everyone will wish one day to learn the names of his tides, there is nothing but nature echoing from within. He was lightning bolt, biting back on thunder. She gave him the world to carry within and his life would be too short for loathing, she figured, the storms beneath his skin.

______________________

August 13th, 1755

Coventry, Connecticut

----- V -----

         Nathan was able to widen his eyes and reach for her hand when he was nearing two months old. By then, power pulsated from her muscles and she regained a hold across her household. Rachel did ask occasionally if she would like to rest, and she’d reach aged hands to grab the baby in her arms but she hesitated, demurring away from this. A part of her worried if she let him go she would truly do as what was expected. Enoch clung to her leg and could not be beckoned from his mother’s side, slipping behind her and peaking a head out from behind her as if she was a shield. She ran a hand over the top of his copper locks and brushing the bangs out of his eyes.

         Nathan appeared to be getting better, as it appeared, and Elizabeth did not have to bite on fear every moment she heard a cough resound from his tiny mouth. He cried when anyone else attempted to hold him, let out a piercing shriek that she wanted to guard her ears from. Richard was a little dismayed at this but quickly settled on sight instead. Her child's were like powdered corn flower made from different fabric of the skies. There was an ache for freedom that twinkled there and he enjoyed times where he was nestled in his mother’s lap.

         And this perfect little heaven did not last, it seems. Nathan ailed, his tiny form trembling underneath the sheets of his cradle with flushed cheeks and a horrifying sound blaring from his lungs that brought tears of fear to her eyes. She wondered if the child would ever survive and thought every time she saw a sunset it made be his last. More often it was the revelation that she’d held this tiny being within her for eight months, felt him growing every day and experienced all of his movements. He was a pretty child, glowing with youth, flowed across his features. Elizabeth struggled through the things she did not comprehend, everything larger than herself and this life.

____________________

October 21st, 1755

Coventry, Connecticut

----- VI -----

         Her favorite thing was when for a short eternity, Nathan’s lungs cleared and breathing was not a trivial thing any longer. She enjoyed the days where she could rock him in her lap on the porch, watching her husband, bent in the sweltering heat against a never ending summer. Occasionally he’ll catch her gaze and lower the rim of his hat to her, she giggled, grasping Nathan’s hand and waving it back mockingly. He was a happy child, she feared too much allowing him to reside in his own room with Enoch, he stayed in her bed and she watched his nose twitch as he slept.

         Samuel’s birthday arrived in October and Nathan seemed almost glad to draw the attention off of himself for a little while. That evening she allowed the now nine year old to stay out past dark though she worried as she watched him in the yard and bounced her newest edition around her chest. A chill from oncoming autumn whistled the tree branched until they scraped against the windows and set the mood. She tucked Samuel into bed in the room he shared with John and Enoch after their evening prayers. Enoch was already asleep, drifting into his pillow but Samuel sat up in bed blinking up at her with the largest doe eyes.

         “Could you tell me one of your stories, Mama?”, he asked and his voice was convincing as if trying to draw her in in some sort of manipulative way.

         Elizabeth sighed, flashing an off putting smile to set a tone and seating herself at the edge of their bed, pulling the blanket closer to their chins. It did not take much convincing for her to speak, she enjoyed these times where she could foster her own creativity.

         “Have you heard of children’s hour?”

----- VII -----

         Long ago she lost that fear of being wrong, and perhaps it was why she lived a creative life. Words loved to swarm within her like a lyrical sea where she drowned in aspirations. When her boys were asleep she peered into the bedroom of Liza and headed back to her bed, Nathan was already asleep in her arms where she nestled him into the pillows and he was as a light as a feather drifting in a pocket of air. Richard came in soon after, lingering in the doorstop where she met his eyes before he tumbled into bed like aching bricks. She traced lines across his chest and assured him closer. This was when they drank in silence in the drifting night. Their love was soft and silky lavender that flooded her senses. It was delicate, it was comforting with every breath of intention, twisting with devotion. His fingers looped through her hair as they fell asleep.

_____________________

November 10th, 1755

Coventry, Connecticut

----- VIII -----

         Her warm breath now hung low in the air with the oncoming and cryptid winter crossing swords with her hope of an extended summer. The chill of early November cut to her center and she bundled Nathan up warmer as they walked their grounds. Usually Enoch tagged along behind, running after on shaky legs and tugging on the end of her petticoat to keep in time. Though it was rare, she did enjoy those days when she was not alone with a still growing infant and she led an army. Liza usually requested her hand and Joseph enjoyed kicking rocks at her. She was tough, she never cried, lurching around and firing straight back. Children will be children. Enoch blinked a lot, she recalled taking in lather but she knew the hidden intellect underneath. His eyes were attempting to comprehend as much as he could.

         Life couldn’t be better, this she truly believed without hint of sarcasm. Nathan’s days of illness had passed and he breathed with ease. A flock of silvery blonde hair was beginning to grow on his cranium, it looked so much like gold but she knew how rich she was regardless of fortune. Richard joined occasionally on these walks when work did not persist, looping her around the arm, places where the leafless branches hid the greatest beauty underneath all of the colors. Maybe it was a metaphor, some hid the greatest beauties underneath as butterflies cannot see the beauty of their own wings.

#halemadge #pressles musing #american history #us history #history #Nathan hale #benjamin tallmadge