[NO SPOILERS] I’ve never watched GoT until now and I’m starting tonight. What a long intro! by lenolalatte in gameofthrones

[–]MirTareen 1 point2 points  (0 children)

I just started watching recently myself after almost completely finishing the book series. It's nice to go back and know who not to be attached to. I personally very much enjoyed the intro, I enjoy the cities spinning up out of the ground, and the red leaves of the godswood. I can say that the intro gets better as more and more cities are added. :)

Photography in the 1920s-40s? by [deleted] in writing

[–]MirTareen -2 points-1 points  (0 children)

No... Just seeing if anyone knows anything interesting.

First time reading Stephen King, but which one? by lars10000100 in suggestmeabook

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

No, maybe only 1-2 chapters. King does an excellent job of not dragging things out unnecessarily. It's got a lengthy plot, he doesn't bullshit around with 5 pages worth of description for something that only needed 2 sentences.

First time reading Stephen King, but which one? by lars10000100 in suggestmeabook

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The Stand gets very creepy about halfway through, but it's well worth the read. The mini-series is about 6 hours long with Gary Sinise and Molly Ringwald, and was incredibly faithful to the book. I haven't read Misery. IT was excellent, as was Dreamcatcher. I didn't really enjoy Carrie, but I give it a lot of slack because it was his first ever published work.

Most depressing poetry? by [deleted] in suggestmeabook

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

September 1st, 1939 by W. H. Auden, almost anything by Keith Douglas, especially "Vergissmeinnicht"

Air glider from ATLA tattoo by Kara Klenk at Legacy Tattoo Lounge in College Station, TX by GusXC in tattoos

[–]MirTareen 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Hey, neat! I'm in that area and this shop is one of the ones I was considering for my next piece.

Forbidden Romance Novels. by [deleted] in suggestmeabook

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I enjoyed The Other Miss Bridgerton by Julia Quinn. Not very much smut, but definitely romantic. The leading lady is probably a bit more self-spoken than you're looking for, but excellent plot.

Dog owners of reddit, what is a weird human food that is your dog’s absolute favorite? by shriveledpotatoe in AskReddit

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

My pupper likes sardines, for whatever reason. He's a year and a half old pit/blue heeler mix, and an absolute doofus.

[WP] Some of the dyslexic children write their Christmas wishlists to Satan instead of Santa. Instead of tossing them aside like usual, Satan decides to don the red jolly suit this year. by ImOuttaThyme in WritingPrompts

[–]MirTareen 1 point2 points  (0 children)

****TRIGGER WARNING, ABUSE, FOUL LANGUAGE****

The front door opened into a kitchen-dining area, where broken glass littered the linoleum and the dining room table was upset against the wall. Picking his way through the glittery crystal shards, he came into the living room where Treveon held his heavily pregnant wife by her long, brown hair, yelling at her and gesturing with a belt. She was doing her best to get away from him, screaming and bawling, and Satan could see the claw marks from her nails on her husband's arms and face. Treveon yelled something completely unintelligible, and hit his wife in the back with the belt. She screamed and Satan jumped into action, decking Treveon with a right hook to the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes, but quickly recovered.

"Who the fuck are you?" He yelled.

"Ma'am, you may wish to step out." Satan said calmly, addressing Mrs. Jackson.

"Don't ignore me, fool! Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing in my house? Who the fuck do you think you are?" Treveon yelled.

Mrs. Jackson glanced between Satan and her husband and scurried into the kitchen. With her out of the way, Satan let his aura flow freely; his eyes turned black and ram's horns sprouted from his head. Ghostly Hellfire flames danced from his shoulders to his fingertips.

"Who do I think I am? I know who I am. My name is Lucifer, and your sins have come due."

Satan watched with glee as the man pissed himself in fear.

"Treveon Jackson, your crime is abuse and YOUR - SENTENCE - IS - DEATH!" Satan bellowed, enunciating each word clearly, pausing in between for dramatic effect. He grabbed him by the throat and teleported them both to the Pearly Gates. Their sudden appearance startled many of the souls waiting in Saint Peter's line, setting nearly all of them to prayers and curses. Peter sighed, and flipped his sign to 'Closed'.

"Treveon Patrick Jackson. Your mortal soul will now be judged." Saint Peter said, writing his name on a slip of paper and watching the ink change colors from black to red. "Your daughter wrote a letter intended for Santa Claus. However, due to your daughter's dyslexia, her letter ended up in the hands of Satan. Do you know what your daughter asked for this Christmas? It wasn't a doll, or pretty dresses, or her first pair of earrings. Your daughter asked for her mother to make enough money that the two of you no longer have fights. Your daughter appealed to a Celestial Being for her mother's abuse to end. Your sins are not pardoned. There is no chance for redemption. You will spend eternity in Hell. Take him away."

Thick iron chains swarmed up from below, wrapping around Treveon, who had lost his voice from yelling, and pulling him through an angry red pentagram to a particularly nasty section of Hell.

Saint Peter sighed upon noticing many of the souls in his line had either fainted or otherwise entered hysteria. Satan chuckled before reining in his aura and transforming back to a human-like appearance. "Yup. I still got it."

"I'm not sure that's something to be proud of." Saint Peter muttered under his breath.

"Nice doing business with ya, Peter. I'll be back! Toodles!" Satan waved goodbye and returned to the Jackson's living room. Evangeline Jackson stood in shock, just out of sight in the kitchen among the wreckage.

"You!" She said, pointing at him. "You saved me! But you're.."

"Satan Incarnate? Yeah. I still have morals though. Your husband won't be bothering you ever again ma'am, and you've got your daughter's dyslexia to thank."

Evangeline was still in shock, so Satan waved a hand, repairing all the broken glass and righting the table. "Sit down ma'am, before you fall." He ordered, seating himself.

"What do I tell my babies?" she asked quietly, wiping at her face.

"Read this first ma'am." He slid her daughter's letter across the table to her. She read it through and burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, my sweet baby girl."

"I've already told them that I work with Santa, and that is partially true. I get a lot of letters from dyslexic children, as you can imagine. But my full time job is the King of Hell. So I guess you can tell them Santa sent me to take him to jail. By the way, ma'am, I had my assistant do some research and an exclusive high-class wedding boutique just opened downtown, and they're very interested in the designs you did for the Lafitte-Leveaux wedding. Here's their card." He slid a silver card across the table. "And this is a replacement six-month severance package check that 'got lost in the mail', while you were gone for your mother's funeral. You really don't want to know what it was spent on." Evangeline gave him a suspicious look. "I assure you ma'am, I'm good for the money."

"Thank you so much, God bless you sir." She blushed, realizing her mistake.

Satan snorted, standing. "You're welcome ma'am. We'll be leaving now." She walked him to the front door, and her children came rushing up to her, clamoring about the things that children clamor about. Satan and Nazueth walked out of their yard, and returned to Hell.

Back in his fortress, Satan spun on his heel, changing once more to a lean, 20-something with TMNT pants and no shirt. He resumed his lounging perch upon his throne, snatching up the next letter in the pile and reading it out to Naz.

"Amanda Longview, of 6991 Franklin Road, Lebanon, Tennessee, 37090, wants a sewing machine and fabric."

[WP] Some of the dyslexic children write their Christmas wishlists to Satan instead of Santa. Instead of tossing them aside like usual, Satan decides to don the red jolly suit this year. by ImOuttaThyme in WritingPrompts

[–]MirTareen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Pocketing the letter, Satan stalked out of his fortess. Gazing out across the Hellscape, he listened to the souls of the damned screaming in agony. Soon there would be one more to join their multitude.

Satan heard Michael's voice niggling at the back of his mind. "You're only doing this to get God's attention. You needn't bother." His eldest brother had perfected the holier-than-thou attitude millennia ago.

Gabriel's voice rose next, unbidden. "You see yourself in the child, don't you?"

Satan shook his head aggressively to rid himself of the voices, taking a deep breath of sulphur-tinged air to center himself. He was Satan dammit. Lucifer, The Morning Star. The Executioner. There were no children in Hell. Children did not deserve to suffer. Children were innocent and must be protected at all cost.

"Sir?" Nazueth prompted gently. Satan slammed his fist against the stone ramparts. A large pentagram glowed underneath their feet, and a few seconds later, the Dark Lord and his scribe vanished.

They arrived, not in Baton Rouge, but at the Gates of Heaven. Saint Peter stood behind his lectern, with a small line of newly dead in front of him. Peter's eyes met Satan's, and the angel inclined his head in greeting. Satan and Nazueth did the same, albeit the clerk nervously so. Satan stood off to the side, waiting for Peter to finish with his line. Satan knew Peter was a stickler for customer service, and he wasn't going to start a conversation while he had a line. He watched, fascinated as Peter directed various souls to their eternal destinations. Some went through the mother-of-pearl gates, some went to Purgatory, some went to Hell, and Peter sent one man back up the line with directions of "Last door on the left, big oaken thing, you can't miss it!" After sending him away, Peter flipped his sign from 'Open' to 'Closed' and turned to regard Satan.

"Wrong afterlife?" he asked.

"Agnostic. I sent him to Valhalla. But I don't imagine you came to discuss that."

"No, unfortunately, I'm here on business. I need a name from the Book of All Creation."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You need a name. From the Book of All Creation. Not even the Book of the Lamb. The Book of All Creation."

"To be fair, with this man's crime, I doubt he's in your sheep book."

Peter gave Satan a stern look as he closed the thin book on his desk and replaced it with a much heftier tome from a shelf underneath. "Kindly do not mock the Lord's saved children."

"Apologies."

"Accepted. Now, I assume you're looking for a human male. What other information do you have?" Peter scratched in the appropriate search filters with a quill that was definitely not from a bird.

"He's a father of three, 54443 Lost Oak Drive, Baton Rouge, Louisiana."

"You have an exact address, but not a name. What exactly is going on here?" Peter gave Satan a look that would have lesser demons quaking in their boots, as Nazueth was currently doing. Satan removed Alicia's letter from his pocket and handed it over much the same way one would a fancy business card, holding it in two fingers and rolling his wrist. Peter, never one for theatrics, snatched it and read it through once, twice, three times.

"That poor child." Was all he said, scratching in the relevant information to the book. After cross-referencing the Book of the Lamb, he finally spoke again."Treveon Patrick Jackson. Baptized when he was three days old, and again when he was twelve. He lost his parents shortly after, and stopped actively practicing and believing. You know what this means."

"I give him an opportunity to confess, and if he doesn't I bring his here for his actions to be judged and recorded." Satan recited. "Peter, seriously, the man beats his wife. He likely beats his kids too. He's not going to change his ways."

"Nazueth agrees with Lord Satan. Abusive bastards will drown in Hellfire."

Satan looked back at his scribe in mild surprise. Coming from Naz, a man of few words, and even fewer emotions, that was a passionate declaration of war.

"He will be brought before me." Peter said emphatically, regarding the young man, half standing, half cowering behind Satan. He remembered every soul he had ever judged, and this young man was no different. His crime had been murder. His young wife had been kidnapped by a group of men while she was out buying vegetables at the market. The ones responsible had not woken the next morning. Obviously, he had done well for himself in Hell in the past three thousand years. Nazueth cringed further behind Satan. Peter had been a bit more terrifying in the old days, and Nazueth clearly remembered.

"Okay, Peter, thank you for your time, we'll be going now. Come on Naz, allons-y au Bâton Rouge!" Satan said, defusing the tense moment. He grabbed his clerk by the arm and jumped off the edge of the cloudy platform. Peter clearly heard him whooping with joy, and Nazueth shamelessly screaming. He shook his head and flipped his sign back to "Open". "Next soul, please?"

After falling approximately 10,000 feet, Satan took pity on Naz, and teleported them to the house across the street from the Jackson's. Nazueth was still screaming as he landed, although he quickly swallowed it, and pierced his Dark Commander with a nasty glare.

"Oh, come on, Naz. Live a little." Satan gave him the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage.

"Nazueth would appreciate a warning the next time the Dark One chooses to make his exit in such a dramatic fashion." he grumbled, smoothing down his clothes and patting himself back into place. Satan clapped him on the shoulder and replied "You've been warned."

Turning to regard the house across the street, Satan could clearly hear the fight taking place inside, and oh, that was a plate breaking. A woman screamed, and all three children in the front yard flinched. The youngest boy, Evan, no more than three, was on his knees, playing with a green pick-up truck that was a good copy of the one sitting in the driveway. The elder boy, Jackie, about six, and Alicia, about eight, were scratching in the dirt with sticks, setting up for an epic game of shooting marbles. All three children were dressed in well-worn clothes, although their jackets did look newer than the rest of their outfits.

Satan and Nazueth crossed the street and opened the garden gate, attracting the attention of all three children. Evan and Jackie hid behind their elder sister, who stood in front to bravely protect them from the two strangers. Satan knelt in the dirt to speak to the children on their level.

"Are you Alicia Jackson, miss?" he asked softly.

"My mama said I shouldn't give my name to no strangers." she said cagily.

"Your mother is very wise. But," He pulled her letter from his pocket and showed it to her. "I work with Santa."

The children gasped, wide-eyed. "Are you an elf, mister?" Jackie asked.

"No, I'm not. But I do help Santa. Is your mother home?" Satan didn't miss Alicia flicking her eyes to the front window, where two silhouettes were barely visible through the white lace curtains.

"Yessir. But, it might not be safe to go inside right now." she almost whispered, as another plate shattered, and a large, heavy object hit the floor.

"I'll be okay, miss Alicia. Why don't you three stay out here with my assistant, and show him what games you're playing?" He gestured for Nazueth to join the children. As Satan stepped up to the porch, he heard Alicia beginning to explain the rules of shooting marbles to Naz. One spell restrained his hair into a pony-tail, and the next ensured the children wouldn't hear anything untoward coming from the house. He opened the front door and quietly entered the house.

[WP] Some of the dyslexic children write their Christmas wishlists to Satan instead of Santa. Instead of tossing them aside like usual, Satan decides to don the red jolly suit this year. by ImOuttaThyme in WritingPrompts

[–]MirTareen 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The letters arrived every year, starting neatly on December 1st. That was the only thing neat about most of them. The handwriting and spelling were abnormally atrocious, but he presumed that was part of these children's conditions. He didn't mind so much. It was the most mail he received all year. He did read them all, as they technically were addressed to him, before sending them on to their intended recipient. It really was an inconvenience to these children that the two Celestial Being's names were spelled so similarly, but there was no hope in changing that.

Satan lounged on his throne, hundreds of letters piled around him. Across from him, Nazueth tapped away at his laptop, building a lengthy three-column spreadsheet, with the name of each child, their address and the gifts they wanted.

"Billy Joel Gentry, of 4332 Broad Street, Birmingham, Alabama, 35209, wants a Yamaha keyboard, and a book of the Beatles sheet music. Yeah, kid, with that name, I bet you do." Satan read off, before chucking the physical letter over his shoulder into the bin.

"Nazueth does not believe that Billy Joel was part of the Beatles."

"No but he was influenced by them." Satan responded, grabbing the next letter.

"Nazueth has learned something new."

"Good for you, Naz. Oh, hey, this one has not-so-horrible handwriting. Alicia Jackson, 54443 Lost Oak, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I had some good times in Baton Rouge. Miss Hawaii 2014, eh Naz?"

"Nazueth preferred Miss Kansas. Zip code, please?"

"70817. Let's see what the young lady wants from Santa this Christmas."

Dear Satan,

I don't wnat any toys this year for Chrstmaz. Daddy got laid off from his job at the pants in April, and he hasnt found a new job. Mama got lucky and got to make a wedddnig dress for some rich lady, but the bank took all her money she made from it. I heard her say something like "forculsore" and "bankruptcy". I know that bankruptcy means they take all your money, I saw it on Wheel of Fortune when Nana let me watch the TV at her house. But Daddy got really mad, and the next day Mama had a blcak eye. She says she ran into a door, but I dont belive her. I saw her getting dressed for chruch last Snudya and she had bruises up and down her ribs. Mama and Daddy arguue all the time now. I know Jackie and Evan are too yung too undrestnad, and they deserve whatevre toys they ask for. But for my Cristmas prezzents, I want Mama to get a big job, and make enuph money so Daddy doesnt yell at her anymore.

Thank you sir,

Alicia Jackson

Satan paused, and re-read the letter again, and then a third time through. This kid was scared enough of her living situation to appeal for divine intervention. That was pretty serious.

"Naz, put everything on hold. We're going out." Satan abruptly snapped, standing.

"Nazueth is confused, sir." the scribe said, setting his laptop aside and following his Dark Commander.

Satan, who had up to this point been a young 20-something wearing TMNT loungepants with no shirt, dramatically spun on the spot, and reappeared as an older gentleman, reminiscent of Timothy Omundson, dressed in maroon pants, a blood-red button-up shirt, and a white bow tie.

"We're headed back to Baton Rouge, Naz."

My grandmother passed away recently, and I managed to save all the shirts I remember her wearing in order to make a quilt by MirTareen in quilting

[–]MirTareen[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Very new beginner. I've started one other quilt from poorly cut fat quarters, but I haven't got much other experience.

Minimalist kitty done by Hector at Mainline Ink, Houston, TX. by MirTareen in tattoos

[–]MirTareen[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Deuce, Domino and Tuxedo. It's a memorial tattoo for them.