#HOW TO REPAIR DEAD LAPTOPS

[jabeur]

i have an idea for an aryna and jannik gifset but my laptop's dead so i can't

[violettwrites]

the fall — daryl dixon

a/n: hi guys !! sorry i have been so mia recently, life has just been crazy and work is insane coming into the christmas season. my laptop is currently away for repairs so i wrote this on my phone — please bear with me if there’s any mistakes. im hoping to have that back soon !

if you enjoy this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! your support always means the world to me

summary: daryl loses you during the start of the apocalypse, and then he finds you again.

( this can be read as just daryl dixon from season 1 OR apart of my trailer park!daryl series ! they both work together so it's completely up to you! )

word count: 2,110

warnings: swearing

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

➵ rules

“(y/n)?!” daryl’s voice crackled over the phone as you stood in the emergency room, one hand pressed against your ear while the other held the phone to your other ear, trying to make sense of the words daryl was saying over the chaos of the building. the emergency department you worked in was teetering on the edge of an explosion— patients were pouring in, people were screaming, and you could hear ominous groans and growls coming from behind curtains.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!”

daryl’s voice sounded frantic through the static. you could picture him, sitting in the passenger seat of merle’s truck, hand gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles were probably white. you knew he was panicking, probably punching merle’s shoulder to drive faster, to get to you.

“daryl, i—” you started, but gunshots cut through your words. the loud crack of bullets echoed through the hallways. your heart raced as you whipped your head toward the sound, seeing military soldiers in riot gear filing into the hospital, trying to contain what they could.

“shit!” daryl’s voice shouted on the other end, hearing the gunfire through the phone. “what was that?! are you okay?!”

“i don’t know,” you spoke softly, but your voice remained panicked, ducking around a corner as you tried to figure out a way out of the hospital without getting caught in the crossfire. “the military’s here, dar. it’s bad, real bad.”

you could hear merle cursing in the background through the phone, his voice sharp with confusion and fear. he was probably just as pissed as daryl, not wanting to wait around.

“we’re comin’ for ya,” daryl said, his voice firm despite the panic you knew was coursing through him. “jus’ stay where you are.”

“no—” you shook your head, though it was pointless because he couldn’t see you. but you knew that staying in one place would only get you, or them, killed. “it’s not safe here. you need to go, daryl. get outta the city.”

daryl didn’t like how firm your voice was now, like you had accepted your fate. but he also knew you were strong, and you could hold yourself. it was everyone else he wasn’t comfortable with. “i’m not leavin’ without ya!” his words were clipped, but you could hear the desperation seeping through. “jus’ tell me where to find ya.”

“you swallowed hard, ducking down a hallway as more gunshots rang out behind you. “i’ll find you. just go!”

“not an option,” daryl growled, clearly getting more frustrated. “we’re comin’ to get ya.”

“daryl, i swear to god, just go!” you shouted, your voice shaking. you knew you had to make him leave. the city was falling apart, and if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

and then, the line went dead.

you stared at the phone for a second, frozen, before shoving it into your pocket. you couldn’t waste time standing there. you needed to survive. you needed to find a way back to him.

the months that followed were a blur. everything crumbled so fast— society, infrastructure, order. the infection spread quicker than anyone had anticipated, and soon, the world was unrecognisable. you’d managed to survive by keeping to the outskirts of the cities, staying on the move, scavenging what you could. it had been a battle to stay alive, but you never stopped thinking about getting back to daryl.

each day, you held onto the hope that he was still out there. that he, and merle, had made it. you had to believe he was still alive. it was the only thing that kept you going.

one day, after weeks of wandering, you had heard rumors from a group of survivors about a camp up near the quarry. a group had settled there, and something in your gut told you to go. you shoved what little you had into your bag and made your way towards the quarry, hoping against hope that daryl would be there.

daryl sat on the outskirts of the atlanta camp, absentmindedly sharpening his knife as he stared out into the treeline. his mind wasn’t on the task though. it hadn’t been for weeks. ever since the outbreak started, ever since he lost contact with you, he hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything.

merle was his usual self— bossy, loud, and always looking for trouble. but daryl? he was quieter these days, more withdrawn. every hunt he went on, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you, his eyes scanning every inch of the woods, hoping for a glimpse of you.

but every time, he came back empty handed.

he’d given up hope of hearing from you over the phone weeks ago, but he couldn’t give up the idea of finding you. you were out there somewhere— he just knew it.

“hey! you gonna sit there all damn day, or you gonna help me with this firewood?” merle’s voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to grit his teeth and ignore his older brother. he was tired of merle’s shit.

daryl stood up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder without a word. he made his way towards the tree line, scanning the area out of habit. the camp wasn’t the safest; no walls, walkers always lurking, and the occasional survivor that would wander too close for comfort, but they had done a good job keeping it secure. for now.

just as he was about to head back, movement caught his eye. daryl squinted, grip tightening on the strap of his crossbow as a figure stumbled out of the woods. for a moment, he thought it was just another survior— a poor soul lost and scared like the rest of them. but then his heart skipped a beat.

it was you.

“(y/n)?” the words ripped out of him before he could stop it, and in an instant, he was running toward you, his legs carrying him faster than he thought was possible. you looked different— thinner, worn down, like you had walked through hell. but it didn’t matter. you were alive.

your eyes met his, and the world around you seemed to fall away. after weeks, months— you weren’t sure. but you had finally found him.

“daryl,” you breathed out, your voice weak but full of relief.

he didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight. you could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your ear, the warmth of his body grounding you in a way nothing else had since the world fell apart.

“i thought i lost ya,” daryl muttered, his voice rough and his breath warm against your neck.

you held him tighter, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt under his crossbow like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “i’m here.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other and letting the weight of the time split up crash down around you. all the fear, the uncertainty, the loss— it all seemed to fade in that moment.

when you finally pulled back, daryl kept his hands on your shoulders, like he needed to keep touching you to make sure you were real. his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail.

“merle?” you asked softly, knowing daryl’s older brother never strayed far from his side.

“he’s back at camp,” his voice steadying. “still a pain in the ass.”

you let out a weak laugh, the sound foreign after so long without joy. “figures.”

“come on,” he said, his hand lingering on your arm as he started to lead you back toward the camp. “you need to get some rest.”

the camp was quiet as the two of you entered, the crackle of the campfire being the only sound besides the soft rustle of leaves. merle spotted you first, his eyes narrowing before recognition flashed across his face.

“well, i’ll be damned,” merle said, leaning back with a grin. “look who finally showed up.”

you met merle’s eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “good to see you too, merle.”

daryl guided you to a spot by the fire, his hand never leaving yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. you settled beside him, exhaustion finally catching up to you. but for the first time in months, you felt safe. you were with daryl. that was all that mattered.

as the fire crackled in front of you, it’s orange glow casting flickering shadows on your face, you leaned back against a log and let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. the tension in your shoulders loosened ever so slightly, but the weight of everything you’d been through was still pressed on your chest. your eyes flickered to daryl beside you— his presence was grounding, familiar, something solid in a world that felt like quicksand.

he hadn’t let go of your hand, his rough fingers wrapped around yours as if he was afraid that if he did let go, you’d disappear again. you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way this had all worn on him too. daryl wasn’t one to talk about feelings or admit when things hurt him, but you knew him better than that. the silence between you wasn’t awkward; it was full of unspoken understanding. you had both lost too much to let go of each other now.

merle started to wander off toward his tent, mumbling something about needing sleep. “you two lovebirds catch up,” he teased, but it was half-hearted. he wasn’t cruel like he used to be— at least not to you.

as soon as his brother disappeared into his tent, daryl finally spoke, his voice low, like he was afraid to break the moment. “how’d ya make it?” he didn’t ask out of disbelief, he knew you were tough, but it was out of curiosity, needing to fill in the blanks of your absence.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, staring into the fire. the memories of being on your own flooded back; sleepless nights, close calls with walkers, finding shelter in abandoned houses, and the hunger that gnawed at your stomach daily. “i just kept moving,” you shrugged, your words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the crackle of the fire. “after that day at the hospital, i knew i couldn’t stay. i had no idea where i was going though, but i knew i had to keep going.”

daryl nodded, his eyes fixed on you, listening intently. he wasn’t the type to press you fore more details, but you could see the questions in his gaze. you gave him a small smile, trying to ease his worry. “i thought about you every day,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “it was the only thing that kept me going sometimes. knowing you were out there, somewhere.”

you watched as his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he processed your words. “i looked for ya,” he muttered, his voice rougher than before. “everywhere we went, i looked. really thought i lost ya.” the raw emotion in his voice made your heart twist. you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“you didn’t lose me. i’m right here.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. daryl’s hand found yours again, his grip firm, but this time it wasn’t just out of fear. it was something more— something unspoken but heavy between you.

“you gonna stick around now?” he asked, his voice quiter than before, almost hesitant. “stay with the group?”

you hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead yet. the idea of settling down in this camp, was both comforting and terrifying. you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you have to move, but you knew one thing for sure— you weren’t about to leave daryl again. “if you’ll have me,” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

daryl gave you a quick, almost unnoticeable nod, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “ain’t goin’ anywhere without ya now,” he said gruffly, the tenderness in his words barely masked by his usual demeanour.

the firelight danced in his eyes, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. his presence was steady and warm beside you, and for the first time since the world had gone to shit, you allowed yourself to feel safe.

[merrycrisis-if]

Author! What did you put in this IF to make me love it so much AAAAAA

This has taken over my life. I'm going to rant and vent all of my love here! I hope you're ready!

Firstly, I love how you write Vietnamese culture, as someone from SEA myself, its fun finding out the similarities and differences between cultures. I almost cried at how relatable it is especially when it came to the cooking scene with our mother and MC being a woman herself said that it was expected of her, initially hating it but percieves it as a bonding moment. I was like "Did someone put a CCTV in my house?!" Because thats how I felt in the past and in the present with doing activities with my mom. Its unfair being a girl, but its one of the only times I can feel a deep bond with her that no one shares in the family. Nosy aunties? Check! Family reunions that your parents force you to come? Check!

The similarities end at family members wanting you back home, because Lord knows that our country is doomed and its better to stay abroad than in this hellscape >^<. Second, Highschool Qiu and MC made me brainrot to the point I got back to my roots. Finding songs that I could lay down and stare at the ceiling and cry. https://open.spotify.com/track/0DdC92EziGIEN6j7kTCKQX?si=7692144f6e494230

https://open.spotify.com/track/6FIEuf1JIzmCtach0gXpeG?si=6ba72f7f850f40d3 https://open.spotify.com/track/3QPsTiJBaPHx607Dcl0CX1?si=2cbb418f52d14cb4

These are some songs that made me sob, do not be fooled by its beats and drums. The lyrics are SAD. I'm at the point of my brainrot that it was the first thing I drew when I got my laptop back for a repair! You only turn 18 once right?

(With glasses version)

(The tumblr quality made me go dead ugh) So thats it for my rant. You really created such a wonderful story. I look forward to seeing more updates >O< Be healthy and take care author!

Ahhh!!! This post is an absolute gem, thank you for sending it!!

First off, it's always so nice to hear about the cross cultural linkages between my readers' lives and merry crisis. Family and cooking/food are a huge part of merry crisis and I love how it seems to resonate with people! :)

I LOVE your drawings and setting it st a beach makes me think of the Labrador scene with Qiu for sure!! The colors are so sumptuous and there's a definite edge of wistfulness in both their gazes. Also the blurry waves/water in MC's background is so beautiful!!

I'm so excited to check out your Spotify playlist!! :D

[infohazardouz]

DEMON AU UPDATE: everything's dead (somewhat of a vent)

not to alarm you, just to grab your attention

some readers might've noticed that i've brought up problems with my laptop before- unfortunately, the ol' thing totally kicked the bucket yesterday and is now completely beyond repairing.

Unfortunately, it died unexpectedly and I don't have a backup of my stuff for about a years worth. This of course includes the entirety of the demon au, my pages that were in progress, and every other thing I had planned for tumblr.

I'm already working from a new laptop- it was mandatory to buy one for college, so I guess things worked out in that regard- but honestly I've been really depressed about exactly how much I lost. A year and a half isn't a lot of time until it's as though it's never happened.

I keep realizing small things that are now gone forever- custom brushes I relied on, my own fonts, tons and tons of memories. I'm honestly feeling really blindsided by the whole thing. To make matters worse, things are looking dire in the way of online recovery- I lost my Firefox account and all the data that was stored on there, and I'm 70 bucks out on the battery replacement that killed the laptop in the first place on top of the 2k the new laptop cost. I'm in a really dire position right now, and it's really hard for me to look at the positives although I'm really trying my best. So I just wanted to announce that until I can get my bearings, I'm gonna have to put the demon au on a short/indefinite hiatus.

I'm sorry folks, but it gets worse. I really, really hate to do this, but I'm not doing well financially as a result of all this, and if i have any hope of recovering any of my data it's by taking the HDD off my old laptop and putting it into an adapter to hopefully move things to my new system. I'm trying to save up for this $20 adapter right now <-

If you're able, I would appreciate from the bottom of my heart if you could drop a few bucks into my ko-fi here:

I've made a goal for the 20 necessary for the adapter, so you know when I've reached the amount.

I hate the idea of asking people to donate to strangers over the internet, so I will draw a doodle of your choice for any donation amount of any value if you are able to donate. Otherwise, I completely understand, and I appreciate you so much for reading this far!

UPDATE: @himboextraordinaire did an absolutely incredible thing and just donated the entire 20 I needed to order the adapter. I'm incredibly overcome with emotion over this, and I'll be removing the link to my ko-fi just to make sure no one donates by accident.

Thank you so, so much. It means the world to me what you just did for me <33

Again, I'm really really sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to let anyone down, and I really do want to get back to this comic whenever I am able- and I feel really bad about asking for donations on top of things, but I honestly don't know what else to do. I hope you guys understand, appreciate you all very much always <333

[bamsara]

how's the car ? is it permanently Doomed or can it be repaired ?

Should be able to be repaired if I get a new accerator peddle (keyword: should) if I can buy the part and pay for a shop to fix it but I keep getting egged on by my family to start looking for a new vehicle soon because this one is on its last legs with repairs and idk how to tell them that (1) my savings were for a new laptop/pc and/or taxes that I planned and (2) I do NOT replace things until they literally are power dead or explode. Just look at Arson. And the last car I had. Bsshshhdjdjfjjgkg

[thesoulspulse]

Hi guys. Unfortunately I have some very sad news. My laptop is officially dead-dead this time. And to be fair it lasted a lot longer than most laptops are expected to these days so that's something at least. We did what we could by taking it into a local computer repair place but the rest is just out of our hands since it would require saundering some parts together which there's not much point in doing because my laptop is too old to run Windows 11 which we're going to be forced to upgrade to this October.

It's honestly a miracle my dad even got it working again the first time given how old it is. Thankfully my dad still has the old hard drive which means I won't lose absolutely everything, just the newer art stuff I was working on. I can redownload a lot of the other stuff once I have a working laptop again. Not gonna lie, this whole thing really sucks but like I said at this point there's nothing more we can do. My dad is going to see if he can hook me up with a used/refurbished one though and I am so thankful for all the help I've gotten with this whole computer problem.

So yeah, Technus may have won this battle but I will win the war and I can safely say however that we fought valiantly. Plus I still have my tablet and phone to keep me sane for now until we figure something out. And you guys of course, I appreciate all your support too during these difficult times. Let's hope things die down soon, just not as literally in my laptop's case.

[clatoera]

hi girly me again 🩷 it’s currently lesbian visibility week, can we get some cashmere and enobaria hcs in honor of this? can be about them as a couple or them in general, i am not picky at all!!

Omg hi hello yes friend I can absolutely do that!! These kind of got out of hand so I wrote them in a separate document and am copying them over so that I don’t lost them if my laptop goes down or something!! These are obviously in ARWBFB verse/au because like..at this point it feels like EVERYTHING I do is in that verse but also in writing this I realized I’m like..lowkey dropping ARWBFB Cashmere and Enobaria lore because noone knew they were together until the last chapter because Clove didn’t and it was her perspective so!! 

-Enobaria and Cashmere have been together for quite literally about ten years by the end of the last chapter of ARWBFB (non epilogue). They were friends for a few years first but…we all know how that ends up sometimes. 

-Cashmere teaches Enobaria how to teach Clove about knife throwing, so that she can pass it along to Clove to give her a competitive edge before formal training would begin. Enobaria is not..great at it. 

-Enobaria is in the capitol the first night Cashmere is sold by Snow. She is powerless and she knows it, but she never forgets the sinking feeling she had watching some much older man lead Cash out by her elbow.

-The night Glimmer wins, Enobaria is not even supposed ot be in the Capitol, but she conveniently “misses” her train home and has to stay an extra night. She is debating going down to the One floor for hours and at the exact minute she gets up to go Cashmere comes literally bursting into her room. She has never seen her cry as hard as she did that night. 

-Enobaria could not be found any night during Clove’s games, not because she was out with sponsors, but because she had to sleep in Cashmere’s bed or she wouldn’t get a second of sleep. The ONLY minutes of sleep Enobaria gets the entire duration fo Clove’s games is when Cashmere tricks her to sleep by playing with her hair. 

-Cashmere conveniently forgets to get money from sponsors in the 73rd games. She talks with them. She interacts. But she never gets tot he point of swiping their cards or collecting checks. She cannot directly play against her own district, but she cannot (will not) play anyone against Clove. She knows what it would do to Enobaria. 

-Enobaria and Cashmere are separated the entirety of the war. They have no way to communicate. They do not know if the other is dead, alive, in custody, or what side of the war. Enobaria can only assume, after all that is done to Cashmere in her life, that she would have chosen the side of the rebels. She does, too. It is one of the worst times in both of their lives, because not only do they not have any communication or information on each other, they are also facing  loss of someone very close to them (Because they also do not know if Clove or Glimmer are alive at that point). 

-Cashmere is the only person in the world who knows every once in a while Enobaria bites her lip in her sleep and ends up on a pillow covered in blood

-Enobaria and Cashmere, post war, are both faced with really difficult and messy relationships with food. The only way they can heal them is by encouraging and aiding the other in repairing theirs first.

-the only time Enobaria ever hesitates in wanting to advocate for Clove to go into the games is after she watches the way Glimmer’s win destroys Cashmere. It is the only thing to ever make her hesitate. 

-Enobaria notices she comes home from the games every year missing a piece of clothing or two. It is not until after the war that she realizes Cash has an entire drawer of them she’s been sleeping in for a decade. 

-Cash thinks she fell in love with her when they were about twenty, they were more than a little drunk, and Enobaria was just drunk enough to whisper to her about the the little girl she had promised to take care of and the promise she made to a dead girl. It’s whispered under sheets because of listening ears, and in the dark of the night Cashmere mentions that she has a little sister around the same age. Maybe, in another life, they could have let the girls be friends. 

Thanks so much my friend!! This was a lot of fun and i’d be glad to do more if that is wanted!!

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Apple Store! PARTIES: Regan and Van SUMMARY: After Regan and Van catch up (thread coming soon), the two of them head to the Apple Store to get Regan set up with a new phone. Van has ulterior motives.

“All iPhones are rectangle,” Van assured Regan with a smile.

Regan would give it to the Apple Store – they knew how to create a clean, almost sterile-looking environment. The floors shined. The walls were bare like the back of a tombstone. If only they got rid of all of the computers.

Van seemed to know what she was doing. So, uncertain, Regan followed Van up to the counter. As nice as this store was, she didn’t like the idea of an iPhone, but her Blackberry repair man was not responding to her messages, and she didn’t know of any other Blackberry specialists on the east coast. Ironically, there was one in Dublin that popped up in her searches. She panicked and snapped the laptop shut when she saw it. So Regan was willing to give this a try.  

And it was good practice. Because Regan forgot how to be anything other than a failure, so she was attempting to be something else now. Not a failure, not perfect, something in between, like a human. “Hello,” Regan greeted the boy at the register – little more than a pimply teenager. His nametag said John Pubik. Loathing filled her immediately and she wasn’t sure why. “I am looking for a phone. It must be durable, able to withstand a sc– humans. Obviously. Me. I am the human.” Her stomach burned red. She needed to take some of the heat off her. So she pointed at Van like she had previously been invisible. “This one, too. She is also a human. The phone is for me, though. Not the human. I mean, the other human.” Regan shook her head. “Forget the humans.” She never could. “Durable. Do you have that? And I would prefer a rectangular one.”

———

Van’s end goal when Regan had asked her for help in finding a new phone had been to install all of her favorite games onto it, that way she could pester the white haired woman into giving her hearts and recharges. Obviously the whole not using a blackberry thing was optimal, too. Who even used those anymore? Though, she had to guess that with an iPhone, Regan’s use of emojis would double— no, triple. Then again, that wasn’t her issue. Her issue was… getting Regan a new phone and installing Tsum Tsum and Candy Crush. Maybe even Honkai Star Rail. She looked at Regan out of the corner of her eye, deciding against the latter. Regan would take one look at Pom Pom and think about what it’d be like to see his bones, probably. 

She stood next to Regan quietly as John Pubik walked up to them. She remembered that last name. He had gone to high school with her, a couple of grades ahead. She was almost positive that his sister, Lorelai Pubik was now some like, mommy blogger or something. Yeah, that sounded right. Though, as Regan began to speak, discussions of being human ensnaring them, Van cleared her throat. She was human, but Regan was not. And Van was like, totally cool about that! Her best friend was a bear, and people she went to school with were turning into werewolves. Hell, John Pubik was probably a siren or something. Probably. She looked at him, looked at his reflection in a neighboring mirror. Okay, not a siren. 

“All iPhones are rectangle,” Van assured Regan with a smile. She pointed to the latest iPhone, “it’s going to need a lot of storage. She likes… storage.” Never mind it was for the games she would be downloading. “Needs all of the emojis. You can do that, right?” Van could just go and pick out the phone that Regan needed easily, but she seemed dead set on wasting this guy’s time. John Pubik looked between them, heaved a sigh, and motioned for them to both follow to the latest iPhone release. 

“The green one is nice, right? But they have just like, basic silver. You look like a basic silver person.” Van picked up the phone, the cord keeping it from being stolen, snapping it back into place. She withdrew her hand and rubbed her thumb from where it had pinched the skin. 

“All we got are rectangles, miss. Unless you want an Apple Watch. That’s a square.” 

God forbid Regan learn about apple watches. “We’re just looking for a phone.” She imagined Regan would ask, how do you even fit an apple into a watch? That’s absurd! Or maybe Ireland had changed her. Who knew. 

———

All phones were rectangles? An itch of embarrassment prickled at Regan’s skin as she followed Pubik and Van over to a display with some phones, which in her opinion cluttered up the space. She left these phone-related annoyances up to digital forensics. She did know about storage, though. And not just the kind that housed cadavers and files. “Yes, storage is important. It must fit the internet on it – a browser, are you familiar? – and many photos, as I never delete anything. You shouldn’t either. It will aid the death investigators when you die.” John stared, his mouth somewhere between a gape and a frown. 

A quick snap grabbed Regan’s attention. She gave Van a sideways look, but then studied the colors of the phones by her hands (and the color of her hand, which was slightly red). “Did the phone hurt you? Did he arrange for this?” Her lungs readied themselves. But she pieced together what happened when she saw the coiled cable. Regan reminded herself to focus, because she didn’t like John. She kept catching the intention to betray deep in his eyes. The reason was unclear.

Regan looked back and forth between the two phones again. The green was closer to the color of her (ex-)wings than it was a tempting shade of jade. So… “silver,” she confirmed, pleased with Van’s assessment. The child knew what she was doing. “You are good at this. You should work here.” Regan did not look at John. He shouldn’t work there.

Pubik eventually seemed to shake himself free of some shock. He was pale. Regan debated offering to get some water. John Pubik was fine, though. Regan didn’t know his lineage but she suspected the Pubiks were always fine, even if it was at the expense of others. She blinked at the thought. Where did that come from? Also, why did she even need emojis? She was not some child, who needed the aid of images to convey messages. 

Durable like bone, as it turned out, Pubik pressed on. “Right-o. A new, silver phone with storage and emojis. We can sure do that, ayup. All the models have emojis. Any of our phones, and any from the last dec–” He looked in Van’s direction and stopped talking. Weird. He cleared his throat and pivoted. “Yup. They’ll even update with the new ones every year, like the shaking heads in 17.4. Crazy it took them so long to make those ones, eh?” John seemed to be making an effort to inject some normalcy into the conversation. Regan only grew more confused. And harbored emoji opinions that had only needed a poke to be expressed. “Do you not control the emojis? Release more, faster. Add a liver. Animate them. Why do they not move?”

Pubik looked in Van’s direction again. He was sweating heavily. Again, Regan wondered about water. “Tell me if you feel faint,” she instructed him, which was a completely normal, human thing to say to a fellow human (even one who she suspected was disloyal). Regan stretched the iPhone closer to her face and flicked a finger against the glass screen, which seemed so fragile. It didn’t bode well. “I will purchase this. How many of these do I get per week? What are my options for plans? Emoji and otherwise.” Thank rot she had Van here to guide her.

———

Van wasn’t sure why Regan was explaining browsers to the phone sales guy, but that didn’t matter. He looked a little confused, but Van made no move to explain Regan’s… thought process (that was probably a good term!), because it would only send them in tight little circles, and Van wasn’t totally sure she wanted to go down that road. It would take a lot more energy to explain what she meant than it would to just let her say the things she wanted to say. It was probably better off that way, anyway. “You’re going to need like, a lot of storage.” How long did banshees live for? Awhile, right? Then again, Regan would be collecting new phones by the time she was gone, right? Van would be like, seventy, and Regan would be… how old was Regan now? Van’s mind wandered as she watched the salesman flounder beneath the array of questions Regan had. 

At her question, she shook her head. “I mean, no? I don’t— no?” She let out a short laugh, shooting the salesman, John Pubik, an apologetic glance. She didn’t need to apologize for Regan and she knew that, but it felt like she should. She was a little odd, and she could be off-putting. The only reason Van hadn’t found her as such was maybe because she liked her a bit like someone liked the shoes they couldn’t ever throw out. That was a great comparison, Van thought. 

“I don’t really want to work here.” She already dealt with tons of annoying people at Sly Slice. She could only imagine how annoying the people would be with technology. But this wasn’t about Regan, no way. Van thought Regan’s requests were… very like her. They were understandable! “I’m sure it’s like, a super cool place to work at though.” She looked at the array of phones on the desk after putting the one she had picked up back down. She was in the market for a new phone, too. The one she had bought off of Craigslist after breaking the one Erin had given her had a cracked screen and it was hard to tell exactly how much damage she was doing during boss fights in HSR. 

John Pubik went on to relay back exactly what Regan was looking for, but she was almost certain he was going to screw it all up, because she gave him a stern shake of her head as he began to veer into dangerous territory. God forbid Regan want a phone from every decade. That would be something she’d want, especially to test out what was optimal. Van couldn’t let that happen. She needed the most recent one, or maybe the one before that, but nothing in the past ten years. Absolutely not. 

“Nobody controls the emojis. I don’t think he has the power to do that.” She shot him a glance before she picked up another phone while Regan examined the one that fit her needs. “And you can get stickers that move. From the App Store. I’ll show you how.” She should be the one to set up Regan’s phone, probably. If this guy did it, he would do it wrong, and then it would be her problem later anyway. 

“Get per week? You want multiple phones?” John Pubik tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by Regan’s question. 

Again, Van interjected, “you can get an otterbox— no, it doesn’t have like, otters or otter things inside of it.” It would be something that she asked, and she just knew it. “It’s a case. For your phone. They’re the best. I had one on my old phone before it got stolen. They’re like, super expensive. You make doctor money, so it will be fine.” She smiled at John Pubik, then turned her attention back to Regan. “You only need one phone. One phone. One otter box. A screen protector. That’s what we’re here for. I’ll download you moving stickers.” And other things, but Regan didn’t need to know about those yet.

———

“I don’t care about stickers. Those are for children. I care about watching a liver because I cannot do that through other means.” Maybe Regan should have given the simulation baby stickers instead of that knife, though. Van, once more, seemed to know what she was doing, and Regan was grateful to have her right now. Maybe she could talk some sense into Pubik. How was this confusing? 

“Yes, multiple phones. Sometimes multiple per day. Your phones are poorly-constructed and the glass is thinner than the maggot-chewed epidermis of a four day old cadaver. You should be ashamed. So I need more than one.” He only looked more confused than before. This man was testing her. Regan continued, “You see, I used to be a loyal customer of the Blackberry phones. They are sturdy. The femurs of phones. But now they’re gone, and my choices are between an iPhone and Google, which I do not trust. They have a browser, by the way. Are you aware? Anyway, I–” 

She was cut off by Van mentioning a box of otters. “What stage of decomp–” Cut off again. It was just a phone case. Didn’t Van understand why she needed so many phones? It had nothing to do with the consistency of the edges, and everything to do with how breakable the screens were. Regan frowned down at the models. They would disappoint her within a day. Unless Van knew something she did not… and she did seem to be full of knowledge on the subject matter. Regan decided she would allow Van to make this call. “Fine. One phone, and the otter, and the livers.”

Regan had never seen a more obvious expression of relief than the one on Pubik’s face. He was the Google of humans. Untrustworthy. Pretended to know everything, but was likely full of inaccuracies and misdirections. He slipped away to get the phone Regan was apparently purchasing, and she looked at Van, raising an eyebrow. “He is confusing, hm?”

When Pubik returned, it was behind the counter, and that, too, seemed to spill relief over his face. Regan exchanged another odd look with Van. How was she supposed to get better at not being a banshee when she was meeting such suboptimal humans? 

“Your phone, miss. And I grabbed one of the Otterboxes from the back, free of charge. Do you need anything else? Like um, umm, there’s another store over there.” He pointed to the door. She realized he had grey pits on his white shirt. “Plenty of different Apple Stores! There’s another one over in Portland! And Augusta!” His eyes teared up. His grin did not reach them. His pimples were red. Everything about him said don’t come back. Regan measured him with no expression, staring, and the pimples grew redder. If Van said to do this… she handed over her credit card, though she hadn’t actually checked if her bank account had been emptied since coming back. It didn’t matter. 

As Pubik rang up the new phone, all Regan could think about (other than the sense of imminent betrayal she felt in her marrow) was that Pubik hadn’t wanted to work here. Regan couldn’t fathom why. Also, how did he know where he wanted and didn’t want to work? How did anyone know? She thought of medical school, the morgue, how everything just clicked in a way that fulfilled her and helped others, but… but what if it had all been because of what she was? What if she never actually wanted it, because she had been taught not to want? She couldn’t go back yet. She needed to try other things. This Regan was a free-thinker. An idea began to stir in her skull. And never quite finished stirring before she spoke it aloud.

She accepted the bag with her new phone and stuck the receipt in it, but did not walk away, even though Van seemed like she needed to. Regan looked straight at Pubik. “Hire me.”

[mrsunder]

Been a while since I posted about the Zombie!Ghost AU so I thought I’d chuck out some tiny morsels into the yard for everyone.

- The only reason Ghost wasn't locked away in a deep dark hole as a lab experiment for the rest of his life was because of a disabled American military vet that got screwed over after serving.

The doctor that saw Ghost after he was brought in managed to check his heart and notice it wasn't beating. He cleared the room Ghost was kept in with the excuse of him needing to calm down after unknown trauma. No one wanted to argue because he had nearly ripped someone's arm off as they tried to bring him to the hospital. After Ghost "calmed down" the doctor found his heartbeat and signs of obvious physical trauma that should have killed him.

He called his buddy, a vet that told him stories about some of the more classified things he saw when he was serving and how he was fucked over after he was let go with a black void on his x-rays and even more black in his medical files. Without the proper clearance, his doctors "couldn't prove he had a reason to be ill the way he was" so he was treated like shit by the VA that was supposed to help him to the point that it took him years to even get pain relief. When his friend called about Ghost he didn't even hesitate to throw every favor, friendship, and classified blackmail he had around to make sure another soldier didn't get fucked for serving his country.

Price was at the hospital with Ghost within the week.

- Ghost has his own team of specialists.

As part of the deals in place that keep him free, Ghost has to take missions that are very likely to end with him “dead”. In return he has a number of people that take care of his medical and psychological care.

Surgeons with trauma specialties to repair the wounds that cause his death. A cosmetic surgeon to hide fatal wounds in visible areas (like the head and neck)  or scars he wouldn't be able to explain to people. A therapist that helps him deal with the trauma of dying over and over and the fact that "he's a monster". There's also a doctor dedicated to studying his behavior when dead to make sure he doesn't become a threat to those around him.

- Ghost hunted down every zombie movie he could find as a way to hurt himself mentally. He convinced himself he was a monster and used zombie films to reinforce it.

Eventually he discovered the movie "Fido" (which you can watch on youtube!) and it put a little voice in the back of his head that maybe he didn’t have to be a monster. It took months before he went searching for more movies with zombies that weren't just brain hungry ghouls, but when he did it helped him start to wrap his head around the thought that maybe he wasn't just a threat to those around him that needed put down. - Zombie!Ghost is influenced heavily by smell. He's especially comforted by the scent of the rest of the 141. When he's in medical getting fixed up whoever is closest will be asked to stay in the room while the doctors fix Ghost up, but if they’re unable to stay for whatever reason they’re asked for their current shirt, which they wrap around a heating pad to help keep Ghost calm while they work on his body. He can't stand any "hospital" smells and will scratch at his skin (or the skin of someone that spent enough time in medical) until the smell is gone. - After being fixed up one of the 141 will stay with him in his room until he comes back to himself. It used to be just Price that stayed with him, but after finding out Soap is the one that spends the most time with him and even Gaz has started keeping an eye on him. Price spends most of his time doing paperwork, but sometimes he'll catch up on any sleep he's missed while Ghost curls up in bed next to him. Gaz will borrow a laptop and watch movies (normally cartoons or romcoms to keep from spooking Ghost with things like gunshots, explosions, or people being violently killed) while Ghost leans against him to watch. Gaz isn't sure if he can follow the movies or not, but he seems to enjoy them well enough. Soap spends most of his time sleeping or idlily running a hand through Ghost's hair while filling the silence with whatever topic he can think of because Ghost will force him onto the bed and lay on top of him. Zombie!Ghost likes when his bed is warm and smells like Soap (and when Soap smells like him)

[tamorisana]

Stupid.

This is stupid.

He stands on the cold floors of the train station, cold and late. The smell of petrichor is awfully strong. It just rained and it rained heavily. The usually-typical weather for London.

When was the last time he looked around? Looked at his work?

Ghost still keeps the carefully drawn layouts of the building before him. He knows, to this day remembers every single office space he made on paper, every single rosette in the waiting area, and every single trip he had to choose the best materials out of the best. Front of the main traveling station is a majestic mix of Renaissance and Gothic styles, his favorite, completed with matching landscaping and interior design to which, he has to give credit to whomever Price found for the job. His favorite project was the biggest project after the wars.

The robotic hand takes his ticket, checking, making sure it corresponds with the existing entry. "Good evening." The mechanical voice doesn't sound mechanical at all. Since when? "Please move forward, to your train №29636 "London — Glasgow" is stationed on track 7." The ticket is partially ripped but still valid for him to pass.

He hoped it would fail.

Price is stupid for even suggesting it.

"You should take a vacation." Is said between the huffs, voice is heavy with overnight coffee drive, the unfinished project laying before the bearded man. He still kept those stupid mutton chops. "You'll work yourself to death and I need my best lieut—" The cut-off is sharp. No more titles.

"Architect. I need you in a full working condition, Simon, not living on coffee, cigarettes and hope of maybe getting a new tattoo." Since when did he care so much? A long time. It's very... touching? but he's right.

He's right, like always right. That never changed, from the moment Price found him tied to the wall in that fucking basement, through the trenches and heli travels, to now. Now being in a good, famous even, studio? Office? God knows what they are.

Rejuvenate Structures.

"I have a place. Calm, far away from people, just how you like." he doesn't remember when Price wasn't this warm man who needs help with small details on the showcasing models, man who hated asking for help when he couldn't even close his hand into the fist. Man who sometime ago killed and destroyed in mourning.

War destroyes everything. Buildings, villages and cities, countries, people and their lives. Everything. Including you. Something inside you dies with people you kill or couldn't save. It's different when you didn't see the destroyed housing and rotting bodies, it's as if all of these are far away, with people who you don't know.

They can't bring back people.

But they can repair at least something. Make a better place and keep the guilt away. Keep the stupid figures of dead people he sees in his office during his all-nighters out of these walls.

"Sure. Whatever." You'll never be able to regret a decision so much.

Hope of getting a new tattoo with his initials or stupid soap stuff always dies last. It died once for sure.

Gaz is stupid for supporting it.

Messenger bag lands on the floor, heavy with the textbooks, notebooks and laptop. How does Kyle even manage to survive five classes with such heavy bag? How do you run from campus to campus with that thing?

Kyle always liked the feeling of the heavy gear, made it even more heavy with extra stuff that they almost never needed. "It's grounding." no one says otherwise.

"You look like death sometimes." he was the death at some point. "I think Price is right for sending you for a vacation." He sips his tea out of cup their Captain Boss made during the physical therapy for hand nerve damage.

Simon doesn't remember how they started these tea drinking parties. Stupid Fucking brits and things you do. It just happened. Kyle was exhausted. Simon was on edge and out of coffee. It happened once. Then again and once again. What do they say? Once an accident. Two coincidence. Three is a pattern. Fifty Sixth this year is a tradition.

You'd need five cups of tea to substitute a cup of coffee. A scientifically proven fact.

As long as you call Simon McTavish a science.

"You're just bitter he can't and won't do the same for you since you are in school."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Riley." Not a Riley anymore. Riley is dead. MIA. Would probably be presumed KIA for sure.

[neon-moon-beam]

I am so fucking frozen today. Not temperature wise; it's actually really warm out, which is really bad and concerning for November.

It's physically I feel like I can't move. I'm deep into fucking freeze mode, emotional stuff has turned physical, my body wants me to play dead. I have things I need to do and my body wants me to just...sit on my bed and do nothing other than do shit on my laptop that isn't getting me anywhere. I hate days like these, and I have them so often now. Nothing is fucking helping me feel like moving. I did some somatic exercises, I've been listening to fast, cathartic music (earlier Green Day since yesterday), I had a caffeinated coffee to try and wake up earlier. Nothing is giving me any push to get up and do anything. I think the most I did was go around and shut all the windows my roommate left often for us to get fresh air because a fucking diesel truck was idling outside below our windows, getting this horrible exhaust smell into our apartment.

The worst part is, I want to do things. I want to get chores done because this is the last day of my vacation from work, and some of those chores are related to finding a new job that doesn't just destroy me every day the way this one does, I want to tidy up my room, I bought better storage and have a shelf for my Pokemon plush that needs repairing (not broken, just a poor design and I want to replace it already), I have anxious energy that needs to be used up and I'd love to use it on something productive.

B*d rotting and not having energy fucking ruins my life. How this is desirable to t*ktok addicts is beyond me, and whatever their mentality is, I'm glad it's not mine.

[noforkingclue]

Dead or Alive- Chapter 8 (James Bond x reader)

James Bond tag list: @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

‘How’s your cat?’

You frowned at the familiar ping of the message and quickly walked over to your laptop to read it. Despite the rush you were in you couldn’t help but smile and type out a brief response.

‘Not my cat’

‘Your friend’s cat then’

‘They came back.’

‘Well that explains why you’re suddenly typing much better again.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Still charming as ever.’

‘I’m just happy that the cat is gone. He’s not my problem anymore.’

‘Not a cat person?’

‘They’re ok in small doses. More of a dog person.’

You didn’t bother to wait for Bond’s response as you hurried around your flat. You cursed under your breath as you looked in your bag and couldn’t see your oyster card. You could’ve sworn you had it in this bag. You glanced over at your laptop when you heard the familiar ping of a message but didn’t go over straight away. You sighed in relief as your hand curled around the familiar card and pulled it free from its confines. Why was it whenever you were in a rush important things always went missing?

‘Does your landlord allow you to keep pets?’

‘What makes you think I’m renting?’

'Logic'

‘Not he doesn’t. But with how absent he is I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t notice if I got one anyway.’

You couldn’t help but let a hint of bitterness creep into your message. You glanced around your flat and grimaced at the repairs that needed to be done.

‘I thought that you would be able to find something on him to get him to do those repairs.’

‘I don’t blackmail.’

‘But you do hack in Government organisations.’

‘It’s not my fault you made this so easy.’

‘I’ll pass that onto Q. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to hear it.’

‘I’ve told him that plenty of times.’

‘And his reaction?’

‘To offer me a job on how to improve it.’

‘Seems fair.’

‘I’m sure your boss would love to have me on the pay roll.’

Your phone buzzed and once against you were distracted. You smiled at the message and quickly type out a response. You had to leave now otherwise you’d be late.

‘It’s been a pleasure as always, Mr Bond, but now I really must go.’

‘So soon?’

‘Unlike you, I have a life outside of this.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I have a date. Goodbye Mr Bond.’

And with that you logged off and went on with your life.

*

Bond was left with a strange feeling at your last message. He leant back in his chair and was only vaguely aware of Q approaching him. He leant over Bond’s shoulder as he read through your messages.

“Well then,” Q said, “hopefully this’ll give us some breathing space.”

“Yeah.”

Q frowned and looked down at Bond who was still looking at the screen.

“Bond?” he said

This seemed to snap Bond out of his thoughts. He stood up quickly and marched out of the room. Q glanced back at the computer before smiling. So, this is what Bond is like when he’s jealous. Interesting.

[unma]

hello im here to learn about the gideon naming reason

also yeah, machines are the coolest and I love them dearly 🤝

Okay so this is a rather simple one but one that gets a little laugh outta me when I think about it. Alright. Remember this guy?

Him. Yeah. Gilbert. The absolute monster that he is. We all hate him. Some of us hate hate him. I hate hate hate him, especially because Pholia and Echidna did not deserve the shit he put them through.

yeah.

I've mentioned it occasionally, but I am absolutely awful at remembering faces and names. I remember people more often by what they wear, their hair color and how they act and so on, and the same applies to characters. But this means that I will go "Oh, them," give an entire rant about why I want a character dead, and then proceed to not remember their name properly.

And because of that, I once called him Gideon. Specifically when @ashmonarch and I were discussing his Proud quest.

Ever since I made this mistake I have swapped between Gideon and Gilbert for him in my head, entirely by accident and also because I can't be bothered to actually remember his name properly. My hatred for him means I will never actually remember his name proper, and even if I do, I will swap out of spite just cause.

Anyway, my current laptop has been a pain in the ass ever since I got it (like, I literally spent an hour troubleshooting its audio the moment I got it) and is just... worse than my previous one in every way. No touch gestures, two charging ports and both are acting up, it also came with Win 11 which I despise (I never updated my older laptop) and seemingly runs worse than my previous laptop that had half the RAM. No, seriously. 16 gigs of RAM and I can't even play HI3 at a manageable framerate (and I played terraria for years at, like, 10fps, so I have low standards for that) if it even runs at all. Did I mention this thing has no touch gestures? That's so dumb. How am I supposed to use a laptop like that. Also, the function and control keys are swapped. Also, some of the keys have stopped working for no discernible reason, and I might have considered taking this thing to a repair shop or something, if I didn't just want it replaced in general. Oh yeah, no touch gestures. Did I mention that? Not only does that mean I can't use the touchpad as well as I did on my old laptop, the fucking right click button came off at some point and now I have to deal with awkwardly pressing the little circle button inside i. Which, again, wouldn't be a problem with the right click. Also the case is screwed in weirdly for some reason so I couldn't take off the back without fear of damaging it for a good while. Also this thing has bricked on me twice in the last couple of months. For literally no reason. Like it bricked a couple days ago because I tried to restart it. Literally fine 5 minutes ago and then that happens. Okay. Also the function keys are weird (I don't care about this one, it's fine actually, and useful in some places).

I think that large block of text of complaints says enough. I've been procrastinating getting it replaced, but only because I'm a tad busy atm. But in the meantime, having to deal with this hunk of junk means I've grown quite a dislike for it, especially because being a computer science major means I need a reliable computer. Also having it brick on me randomly when I want to write is not ideal.

I hadn't named laptops before, but then I saw someone I follow do the same and thought, huh, that's neat. So I bestowed upon this laptop the name that comes up when I think of things I hate. Gideon. I mean Gilbert. Well, maybe if Gilbert wasn't such an asshole he'd get his name actually properly used, but I hate him so it's Gideon.

And that's the story behind how I named this laptop Gideon.

Extra Gideon hate from when I was liveposting to discord about that arc (and a bit more from after) under the cut:

In general, my opinion on Gilbert comes down to this:

[aggold15hi01]

A life update- 5th September 24

Very long post so . . . you might want to be prepared for a long and lengthy post here.

Aloha everybody,

so it has been a while ever since I did an actual post of my own on Tumblr however there are sad news I do want to truthfully share with everyone ever since it has been a long while I did an actual post on here.

Firstly, the first sad news I got to say is my 6 year old 2019 Macbook Pro had gone dead on me last night after dinner and when i did tried to turn it back on and also I tried pressing all of the correct keys onto the keyboard of the Macbook Pro unfortunately it didn't truthfully work which does truthfully worries me ever since I am going to have a huge and grave loss over many of the files I had neglected it for way too long and worse; those files won't be truthfully recovered at all to be honest ever since the 6 year old Macbook with the now discontinued touch bar had decided to take it's own life dejectedly out of nowhere.

(For anyone who are truthfully wondering what is the type of Macbook model I am using; the Macbook Pro I am using is a 6 year old 2019 model with the now discontinued touch bar which I'd think it might be a relief because I truthfully don't know whether my 6 year old Macbook pro with the touch can be repairable and if not then I guess I'll have to start all over with a brand new Macbook; a brand new OS [That's Mac OS Sonoma which I am not feeling truthfully impressed about in my own opinion.] and most of all having to re-do so many of the work I did have neglected for way too long honestly and clearly.)

Secondly, I have been feeling truthfully missing for a very long while ever since i do have to focus on my current job where I am now working as a receptionist in addition to a cleaner as well whom she did have to clean up the massage beds and sanitize it as well ever since working with not one but two jobs can be so challenging especially when we are talking about how it may look like family owned business but in reality you only have two people running the business and yet they both are part of the family which is actually both an advantage and a disadvantage.

(Again, I am actually working at a my family's Traditional Chinese Clinic in case if you are wondering what exactly I am truthfully talking about here obviously.)

Despite how I also lost many of the documents from my now 6 year old dead Macbook Pro I am supposed to do it for here as well as my personal blog however the good news is that I did managed to publish the Lolex AUS GP 24-Paula's edition onto my personal blog in earlier of this year in addition to many of the pictures I did truthfully saved on both my Macbook as well as publishing and uploading them on both my personal blog and also here as well plus my X account as well, i guess if there is one lesson I did truthfully learn from the experience of having a Macbook pro; it is to make sure to always back up on everything and never ever (EVER) forget your files especially the ones which you had seldom used it ever since Macbook doesn't last for long and make sure, you can take very good care of it as well plus to make it both clear and understanding; make sure you can always back-up your files every now and then from your very own laptop everybody since we may never know what is going to truthfully happens to your laptop everyone.

Thirdly, although I do have to re-write many of the writing projects by paper and pen (More accurately; both my diary and also a pen as well) and also on my iPad as well which I am feeling thankful I have it to make sure I can do the writing just in case if something goes wrong with my laptop plus it is also going to take a very long while ever since I do easily get drained and burned out both from my very own work in real life as well as having to truthfully experience on what feels like a 'One hour/ 1 Hour ride' back to home and vice versa going to work now ever since my estranged family/ ohana have to move out to a brand new location back in the month of November which is around late November 2022 all because of the nosy and the equally talkative neighbors whom they do truthfully have nothing to do all day but to simply gossip on about us out of both jealousy and spite from two houses away from the old and currently vacant old house where we used to live for 17 years long and honestly; to dig a deeper hole into the grave; the opposite neighbor of the nosy and talkative neighbors whom all they want to do is to gossip about us as if we are truthfully the main topic of both the news and the gossip in addition to also thinking about how we are also 'The talk of the town' just as when they mentally think we are the same as the royal family however we are just only a normal family whom we are all just living with our normal daily lives from the house no. 22; unfortunately another terrible neighbor we do have to truthfully experience is how the daughter had told her mother about how she felt so scared about going to sleep at night in her own room only because of how loud and noisy yet irritatingly crazy (But more so in a paranoid type of way where people would ask you questions of are you mentally ill or not honestly.) I am for making so much of noise very late at night then this is where we are truthfully forced to move out of late November 2022 to a brand new house and a brand new location where everyone seems to be very happy but I am the only one who seems to be the one and only genuinely unhappy camper from the move to the brand new house and the brand new area obviously.

And finally, i know this does feels like a very long post on here however I'll only be returning to writing if I am feeling truthfully both equally productive and also creative about the idea of the writing process however with so many of the things are happening in my very own real life in a very crazy way (Not in either a good way nor it does happens in a bad way but more so of a bumpy way where I did felt as if I am surfing in the waters of Waikiki during the summer season); I won't be continuing doing any writing projects unless if I am truthfully and willing to do it thus if there is another lesson I do have to pretty much learn from the experience, I'd think it is truthfully okay to take the time to truthfully take a step back and also having to truthfully prioritize and take care of yourself first despite how it does truthfully selfish and uptight at certain times but . . . if there is a lesson we can learn from it; I would say, it is truthfully okay to take steps back & take care of yourself first.

Anyway, since this is a very long and lengthy life update I have done it on here for the very first time however i am going to definitely carry on with this blog as usual whenever I can truthfully get the time to do any of the writing (Plus if you didn't feel like doing it; that's truly okay because another lesson we can definitely learn is our own personal projects isn't going anywhere for real--I learn that lesson from Tina who is Imawonder as both an artist and also a YouTuber from YouTube as well as a business owner of her very own online art shop of Imawonder.) Projects however I'll still sometimes pop in whenever I can on here plus I'll see you all very soon; take really good care of yourself and sending endless peace, love and prayers to everyone in general.

[belacqui-pro-quo]

The logic board inside a smartphone (or tablet, or laptop, or any gadget) is a grid of flowing electrical channels. When the electricity can’t go where it needs to, you can find out where it’s blocked, and make it flow again. We can fix these things—even I can fix these things, a writer whose last real electrical training was the Science Olympiad in 7th grade. Not every phone can be fixed, nor is the effort or time worth it to everyone. But a lot more of these things could be fixed than we’re fixing now. What follows is part one of a three-part diary of my week at “board school.” It won’t be strictly chronological, because there’s both repetition and backtracking in learning. This post will detail the major lessons I learned about how phones fail on an internal level, and how to diagnose them. Next week I’ll dive into the work of repairing all those faults, and after that, the business and politics of microsoldering and board repair.

[aprillikesthings]

my laptop is a macbook air, a 2015 model that my dad got me a week after the 2016 election, which was the same day as my birthday (and I can't prove he bought it for me because he felt guilty about how he voted, but I'm still fairly sure that's why; anyway I can't ask him because he's dead)

I've had the logic board upgraded (in early 2019) and the battery replaced (in uhhh 2021? I think?)

Anyway for the last ....six months? longer maybe? one key or another will stop working at random. I can make it work by wiggling a paint brush under the key, though it sometimes takes a few attempts, and the "fix" lasts anywhere from 1 to infinite key presses. Sometimes it's fine for multiple weeks.

I have a specific paint brush set aside for this purpose which I now take with me everywhere I take the laptop.

It was my f key, then my s key.

It is now my e key. Y'know. The most common letter in the fucking English language. I am having to poke the inside of my keyboard with a paintbrush constantly. I have done it a dozen times on this post alone.

Needless to say, this makes it unpleasant to write on my laptop.

Which means I haven't worked on my fucking fic in like two weeks. >:(

(I know I should take it in to my local mac repair shop, but I worry they're going to tell me the whole keyboard needs replacing and/or it's not worth it and I should just buy a new macbook. *cries*)