Bitty is a southern boy and as a southern girl let me tell you there are things he does that make the rest of SMH go “Ummm….what?”
He says stuff that makes literal ZERO sense to the rest of the team. Mostly southern phrases etc. LIKE, “That boy is about of useless as tits on a bull.” or if it’s raining but the sun is out Bits just says, “Devil must be beatin’ his wife.” Everyone is confused as shit.
“Oh my goodness I want Chick-fil-a. BUT IT’S SUNDAY.”
Holster going,” Hey Bits can you hand me a coke?” and Bitty responding with, “Sure, which kind do you want? We’ve got sprite, mtn dew, dr. pepper…” BC in the south every soda is a coke.
“Y’all know what I miss the most about Georgia? Cheerwine. And Duke’s Mayo. You northerners keep using that hellman’s stuff or miracle whip and let me tell you. IT. IS .NOT. MAYONNAISE.”
“IT’S SO HOT! Summer is the WORST” “Ransom, It’s like, 70 degrees. It gets up to like 115+ in Georgia. And it’s not even humid! You hush your mouth.”
The first time Bitty goes to Stop & Shop with one of the guys from SMH he tells them to grab a buggy on their way in and said member stares at him for a second, “What’s a buggy?” “Oh for goodness sake. A shopping cart! We need a shopping cart!”
Bitty’s drunk at a kegster when he suddenly shouts, “WHO WANTS TO PLAY CORNHOLE?!”
It’s New Years so of course Bitty’s making black eyed peas, collards, cornbread, ham, and a pineapple upside down cake. “It’s for luck.”
Bitty will be checking Facebook and be like, “Oh bless his heart.” Chowder notices him fretting over the phone so he asks what’s up “Oh it’s just one of my friend from high school’s dad.” and Chowder, being the precious person that he is, responds with, “Oh no. What happened? Is he ok?” Bitty just shakes his head, “He’s done went and fell out of the deer stand. Again. Broke his arm and bruised his pride. You think he would’ve learned his lesson after the same thing happened last huntin’ season”
Jack’s all dressed up in a suit or something, he has a meeting with the Falcs, “What are you all gussied up for?”
“Look at what all I got up at the outlet mall!!”
Rans/Holster/Bitty share a bathroom so I reckon this has happened at least once: “Neither of y’all go in the bathroom! I’m fixin’ to shower” to which Holster responds, “What was that Bits? What are you fixing?” Bitty hollers from his room, arm full of clothes, “I’m fixin’ to shower!” Ransom chimes in, “I didn’t know the shower was broken!” At this point Bitty is getting frustrated,“Oh for the love of Pete! You Yankees.” He speaks slowly and pronounces each word carefully, “I am going to go take a shower so please do not go and hog the bathroom.”
“So I was talking to Momma and APPARENTLY Mrs. Jones, the one that lives down the road, was rude as all get out.” “Really? What’d she do?” Bitty just throws his hands up, “Momma and Coach were drivin’ back to the house and Mrs. Jones was driving in the opposite direction so of course Momma waves at her. AND SHE DIDN’T WAVE BACK.”
I know for a FACT that at some point Bits makes a pitcher of sweet tea, puts it in the fridge, and the boys/Lardo finds it. “What’s this?” “Oh, it’s just some tea. You want some?” So Bitty pours them a glass and approximately 2 seconds later “WHAT IS THIS? IT’S LIKE SYRUP! Bits this isn’t tea! It’s diabetes in a cup!”
“Just rub some bacon grease on it.”
“Don’t you dare pour that coffee out! I can use it for gravy!”
“You know what food I miss? Fried pickles. No, wait, HUSHPUPPIES. I’d kill for some right now.”
you are invited to a party in a wealthy town. everyone there is from the north. yankees live in packs and groups. you do not trust them. they must be planning something.
the deer are in the garden again. the deer are eating something. it is winter, and nothing is growing right now.
cheerwine is listed as a beverage option at a restaurant. you must order cheerwine. no one has turned down cheerwine since 1963. coincidentally, that was the same month people said the cheerwine looked redder.
you make the mistake of ordering iced tea on a trip out to the western US. you go into anaphylactic shock when you taste that it is not sweet.
there are forecasts of snow. all the milk and bread is gone. when the snow hits everything stops. everything. stops.
march rolls around. you know what is coming. they know what is coming. the moisture suffocates the weak and drowns the strong. no one is truly safe.
you smell something terrible. it smells like death. “it’s just the bradford pears”, you whisper. you say it again. you still don’t believe it.
you are choking. you are not surprised. you do nothing. you can not fight pollen. you can do nothing. you are still choking.
Atticus! What are your pronouns? Do you like coffee or tea best? Coke or Pepsi? What do you think about Cheerwine, the classic southern beverage? Would you rather encounter one elephant-sized housecat, or 15 housecat-sized elephants?
I don’t care about my pronouns (to be explicit: I don’t care what you use when referring to me, I will use whatever set you wish to you when I am referring to you). It is a beautiful thing, the ability to publicly define, redefine, remix, invent, reinvent, shift, add, retract, change – I love it and I’m utterly fascinated by it. I have no good answers when the camera is pointed towards me, so I don’t publicly ask for a specific direction.
Coffee. The summer of 2019 I’m switching to tea. By that time I’ll have Evil Supply Co. where I want it to be and will be able to enjoy fuel rather than dumping it into my skull, lighting a match, and saying “GO”.
Unless we are talking about sweetened sweet tea with more lemons than ought to be allowed and it is blazing hot outside and I’m sitting on a porch or the beach and gazing at the wonder of creation and idly day dreaming about the things that ought be done and shall be when the time is right, which it isn’t right now, so I am dreaming of things, not doing them.
I haven’t had it in ages but remember it wonderfully.
You cannot make me choose, I shall befriend both, I am very powerful.
Rusted Can of Cheerwine - Has seen some shit, but seems to be radiating with vital energies. Grants +5 max HP. (400 GP)
Virtuoso’s Mask - Allows you to cast Disguse Self as a Cantrip instead of a 1st Level Spell. (1100 GP)
Throwing Shield - Confers the same AC bonus as a regular shield, and can be used as a thrown weapon. Can travel IN A STRAIGHT LINE up to 30 feet, and deals 1d8 + STR/Prof. Damage. IT DOESN’T COME BACK TO YOU AFTERWARDS. AND DON’T TRY TO RICOCHET THIS SHIT. (1200 GP)
Alchemist’s Ring: 500gp
When the wearer of this ring imbibes a healing potion, they receive 1d6 additional healing.
Healing Potion - 50 GP each (3 in stock)
Heals the imbiber for 2d4+2 HP.
Haunted Doll - 100 GP This doll is very creepy. If its owner ever fails a third death save, the doll will take the hit instead, and will die in place of its owner.
Chris Callison-Burch: SHIELD OF HEROIC MEMORIES (1200 GP)
This perfectly round silver shield initially has a mirror finish. As a hero takes it into battle it remembers the enemies encountered, gaining a +1 to AC on any subsequent battle with creatures of that type. The events of the battle are intricately engraved onto the shield’s surface (which has a seemingly endless capacity for detail).
The bearer of the shield may also attempt to recount past battles (real or imagined) to the shield. Upon a DC 10 charisma check or DC 15 bluff check, the shield confers a +1 AC against the creatures described in the tall tales.
3 failed attempts at recounting stories cause the shield to be cleared of all of its memories. The engravings disappear. It reverts to its mirror finish. All bonuses are lost.
Asher Vollmer: The Anti Gravity Sphere (500 GP)
a small fist-sized glass ball filled with a silvery smoke. When the sphere is destroyed, it disables the effect of gravity on everything in a 30ft radius.
Drew Davenport: The Glutton’s Fork (750 GP)
Once a day this fork will allow the user to eat any non-magical item they can fit in their mouth and gain 2d6 points of health. Just tap the fork on the item and it will turn edible.
Ben C: The Champion’s Belt (800 GP)
This ornate belt is given to someone who has bested all opponents in a test of strength. Once per day the wearer may substitute their Strength score for their Wisdom or Charisma when making a stat check.
Matthew Wallace: Phone a friend scrying bones (500 GP)
Once per day, can be used to ask a yes, no, or maybe question to the fates (DM). There are three bones carved into people with happy faces and sad faces. All happy faces means yes, all sad faces mean no, anything in between means maybe. The DM can respond or choose not to answer.
Tom H: The Nit Picker (900 GP)
Physical Description: Resembles a miniature garden gnome that carries lock picking tools in his hands. When not in use, looks like a 4" inch tall statue.
Use: Twice daily, can be placed in front of a locked object to unlock it (functions as the spell “Knock”). At this point, the statue comes to life in order to pick the lock. After the lock is picked (or if he is unable to open it), reverts back to an inanimate statue.
Side Effects: While picking the lock, the Nit Picker critiques any or all members of the party on their recent performance in the campaign. Nothing escapes the critical eye of the Nit Picker, no matter how small the perceived offense.
Samantha Poremba: Plastic Sheriff Badge (500 GP)
Adds +3 to bluff checks when impersonating a person of authority.
Colin Williams: Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom - 60,000 GP
A sword with a gigantic blade, wreathed in flames and with a crooked, oozing scorpion’s stinger affixed to its point. Deals an extra 20 melee damage.
Bianca Rodriguez - No-Sodium Salt Shaker: (400 GP)
this might look like a simple salt shaker, but the contents have been bewitched to turn a bright shade of pink if sprinkled over food or drink that contains poison!
Timothy Riina-Ferrie (and others) - The Immovable Rod (1100 GP)
Immovable Rod: This rod is a flat iron bar with a small button on one end. When the button is pushed (a move action), the rod does not move from where it is, even if staying in place defies gravity. Thus, the owner can lift or place the rod wherever he wishes, push the button, and let go. Several immovable rods can even make a ladder when used together (although only two are needed). An immovable rod can support up to 8,000 pounds before falling to the ground. If a creature pushes against an immovable rod, it must make a DC 30 Strength check to move the rod up to 10 feet in a single round.
Eric Atkinson: Diadem of Fabulous Truthiness! 900 GP - Once per long rest, you can channel your terminal fabulousity into this simple circlet and cast a free Zone of Truth, limited to a single target rather than a radius. Confound your enemies, emasculate your friends, and free up your cleric’s spell slots so he can do some actual healing.
The statues at the Capitol are in slightly different positions every time you see them, but no one else seems to notice. You must be imagining things, they say. You don’t imagine the statue with bared teeth, staring straight at you.
People joke about the football team rivalries, pretend it’s all friendly camaraderie. It wasn’t very friendly when two boys died while walking home from the big game last week. Make sure your children stick close.
Construction has been going on on the road by your house for years. Sometimes in the middle of the night you hear jackhammers. The road will never be completed.
Every soda comes out tasting like Cheerwine. You don’t like Cheerwine. You drink it anyway.
Rich kids come every year from the north to go to school. It’s a test, to see if they can make it through the summer heat. None of them last. No one misses them.
The wind whistles through your hair at the Outer Banks and you shiver, looking down at the footprints in the sand. Nothing human is big enough to make those footprints. You hear a faint cry in the distance, but it is muffled by the waves crashing onto the shore. When you look down again, the footprints are gone.
Yellow fever, they call it, the pollen that invades every year, coating houses and cars and the inside of your lungs. You don’t remember what it’s like to be clean. You cover your mouth with a damp rag and stuff cloths under doorframes, but it’s never enough. You can taste it in your esophagus.
The fields howl at night, when you were little your mama told you it was just the wind. You would sleep with your fingers pressed into your ears, telling yourself it was just the wind, and trying not to think about the bobcats surrounding your house.
The weather called for a nice spring day. You walk outside and suddenly you can’t breathe. Trying to inhale only makes it worse. You see yellow dust clouding your vision. You’re coughing your lungs out and your eyes are on fire. Later in the day this will become a topic for small talk.
Every few years you walk on carcasses with ease. They will crunch under your feet and the survivors will buzz in warning. It’s a warning you always forget. The red swarm will come again, with a new generation to coat the streets. But the army is patient, waiting years before they strike again. Somehow everyone has forgotten that they exist. And that’s just what they want.
You pass by a stranger. Sweet as honey smiles grace their lips, and they wave. This happens again only moments later. Suddenly you’re doing it too. Smile, wave, repeat. If you close closely you’ll see the dead look in everyone’s eyes. You wonder if you look as empty as you feel.
The lake is unusually calm. While sipping on your sweet tea you look down into the green murky water, and you swear what you see isn’t a fish. You remember you’re on top of an old Indian reservation. There is only water to keep you from the souls forced to watch the ripples of boats for eternity. Your friend jumps from one of the cliffs and you hold your breath as you wait for her to resurface. When they come up it looks like they’ve seen a ghost. They comment that the water is really cold, you say you’ve seen them too.
You’re driving down the road and suddenly you’re at a fast food drive through. You weren’t hungry, in fact, you just ate. But the red and white sign invites you in and suddenly you have a milkshake and a chicken sandwich in your hands. You did the same thing just two days before.
As a teenager and you stumble into the local cemetery. It’s peaceful and it’s quiet. Even on a humid day the cool gravestones can provide some strange relief. You never want to leave. Some wishes come true.
You see a young girl drinking from a cup and you think it’s blood. She says it’s just cheerwine. They all do.
People ask what college you want to attend. You rattle off name’s of schools anywhere but here. People ask why you would want to leave a state with such great schools. You want to leave the state, that’s the point. You want to move on. As students get accepted come spring you watch as they plan to move forty-five minutes away. You want to be one of the kids that get out. Suddenly it’s fall and you’re going to college a few towns over. You wonder why you ever wanted to leave. You can’t think of anything at all. Personal opinions have been washed away by the Carolina rain.
Send me “HC” + a word and I’ll write a headcanon about it. || ACCEPTING
((Because Mountain Dew Code Red completely flushes it out of someone’s system, Squip has a slight aversion to all red beverages. Fruit punch, red Fanta, Cheerwine. It never says anything, just gets more hyperattentive to make sure it isn’t getting flushed out.
Human!Squip is allergic to red food dye in general.))
In a gas station in small town Texas, I call you by your name. I never call you by your name. In aisles full of pickle flavored chips and sunflower seeds and glasses of Cheerwine (my favorites), there is an almost unnoticed beat, a small breath where I remember not to call you baby.
Because I love you, I call you by your name in this gas station in small town Texas because we are brown and queer and small, and the world is so big, and everything, even this small town gas station, is bigger in Texas. But I don’t feel big here. I feel myself shrinking. And only a few days ago brown and black queers were gunned down while they were dancing in a space that was supposed to be safe and theirs. And our family is so far. Not the ones who birthed us, but the ones who hold us. The ones who chose us and the ones we choose. And I woke up with the sun this morning, in our two-person tent, and whispered fear onto your soft cheek. Because in this big world there are so many big people who don’t want me to call you baby.
I keep my hands in my back pocket so they don’t reach for yours. They’re poorly trained and want to tangle in your hair, draw shapes on your back. My hands want to call you baby. And even with my hands restrained and your name on my tongue, I can still feel their eyes on my skin because I think my whole body calls you baby and your whole body responds yes.
In a small house in Florida, our first together, I call you baby. In our new kitchen, we unwrap layers of bubble wrap to reveal mugs and glasses and those decorative plates you found before you found me. We decide where to hang them together, and my hands steady you on the footstool—an excuse to touch you. In our small first house in Florida, I call you baby with my mouth and my hands. We fill the small space with our bodies and our things and the words baby and yes.
A year ago today QTPOC were targeted and attacked at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, FL. As we mourned the 49 lives lost, the experiences of people of color, particularly queer Latinx folks, were erased as white people deemed that we were all Orlando, and queer Muslim folks faced continued Islamophobia and scapegoating. I read about the attack as I woke up to graduate from my Asian American Studies MA program. The next day, my partner and I would pack up my car and drive across the country to create our first home together and close our long-distance gap. My partner and I are both queer mixed race folks of color, they are Latinx and I am Asian. We tried to hold our excitement, fear, and grief at the same time as we drove toward our future in Florida. We missed our queer family and wanted to be with them. There were many moments when we felt vulnerable and alone. A week after we arrived, I drove down to Miami to participate in my first VONA/Voices workshop for writers of color. In my fiction workshop, my instructor asked us to write about code switching, alternating between languages in different cultural contexts and spaces. Pulse, our trip, and the intersections of queerness and race were still tangled in my mind. This is what I wrote.
Pork and Cherries are a classic flavor combo for good reason. The tartly sweet fruit brings out the delicate richness of that other white meat, making for a perfectly balanced and refined plate. While technically cherry flavored, Cheerwine doesn’t bring the same dainty refinement. Hailing from North Carolina, this “Cherry” drink brings the over-the-top, all-American flavor eXXXsplosion you’d expect from a neon red bottle of soda pop. Perfect for a sticky-sweet, tangy BBQ sauce.
While you could absolutely braise your ribs in the oven, on the stove top, or, hell, skip it and go low-and-slow on the grill: crockpots are the perfect vehicle for cooking down tough cuts of meat. They’re dummy proof, for one, but, more importantly, they don’t overheat your house. If you don’t have access to a slow cooker, consider the investment. We use ours all year long and can’t imagine our houses without it.
PBR Braised Pork Ribs
2 slabs (usually about 3lbs) Pork Ribs
2-4 cans PBR– the number of PBRs you need will depend on the volume of your slow cooker
4 cloves Garlic, smashed
1 Bay Leaf
8 whole Black Peppercorns
2 whole Cloves
1 tsp Salt
Evenly distribute your RIbs in the slow cooker. Cover with PBR. Toss in the Garlic and spices. Set it to low and cook for 8 hours, or until the meat comes easily away from the bone (4 hours on high if you’re impatient).
Carefully remove the Ribs from the slow cooker (don’t cry if they fall apart, that’s a good thing) and discard the cooking liquid. If you’d like to serve them right away, place the Ribs on a cookie sheet, slather with Cheerwine BBQ, and broil for 2-3 minutes on each side.
If you’d rather finish them on the grill, place them in the refrigerator overnight. This will help to firm up what little colagen and fat is left in the meat, so they don’t disintegrate when they hit the coals. When you’re ready to serve, slather in Cheerwine BBQ and heat over a high flame until caramelized and tasty.
12 oz Cheerwine
15 oz can Tomato Sauce– not paste, not diced tomatoes. just plain, unseasoned, tomato sauce
2 tbsp Molasses
¼ cup Apple Cider Vinegar
½ tsp Salt
1 clove Garlic, smashed
1 tsp Smoked Paprika
a pinch of Allspice
Tabasco, to taste
Combine all of the ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer over low heat until reduced by half, about 20 minutes.
Because this is basically all sugar, don’t just turn it on and walk away. Make sure you stay close, and give it a stir every few minutes.
If you’re lazy, you could totally do this in a small crock pot along side the ribs. Medium heat for 2 hours sounds about right to us.
I was tagged by the lovely @poppypajamas ! Thanks for tagging me!
nickname: care-bear, cheerwine
last thing I googled: prismacolor premier colored pencils, 36 piece
favorite music artist: the lumineers, coldplay, oh wonder, harry styles
song stuck in my head: slide- calvin harris
last movie I saw: harry potter and the chamber of secrets
what am I wearing right now: an oversized “friends” pajama shirt & fuzzy socks
why did I choose my URL: i created it a few years ago because of the book series “the mortal instruments” and the term “initiates” from the divergent book series. rlly wish i could change it though lol