#I left with a paper that said my bill was $0

[yellobb]

American “healthcare” can go fuck itself please and thank you

[unrequited-words]

03/02/23 Thursday

EDIT: It has taken me an hour to edit, and write this from my phone. There is a lot of cussing and I'm venting. Buckle up.

It's barely 11:00 in the morning and I am fucking exhausted. I didn't fall asleep until about 1:00 a.m. I couldn't sleep for shit last night because of insomnia. The baby finally woke up about 8:30 this morning and the first thing she said was good morning and I absolutely love that she's starting to speak more.

I woke up pretty fucking angry. I got paid and paid two bills and messaged my ex-husband or husband or whatever the fuck you want to call his toxic ass and I asked him are you going to file for divorce? You said you were going to file in January and we are now in March and then I said seriously, do I need to file since you won't do it?

He retorted back with well, "I'm dealing with my Dad's health issues and I don't know if he's going to make it in the next couple of days". Of course he wants to be fucking dramatic and he wants to skirt around the issue. The fucking issue is we're still married. The fucking issue is, I have begged him to file for a fucking divorce for the last three fucking years and he will not do it.

I don't know what his fucking excuse is besides, I'm in school, I'm paying for school, there are vet bills, I had a car payment, I had to do repairs because my car is breaking down ... This that and the other.

Of the excuses in the fucking world don't matter. What fucking matters is I want to fucking divorce. He is dragged me through fucking hell for the last 10 years. In the last going on 4 years it's been a fucking complete shit show of a nightmare. He thought my kid was his and obviously she's not.

The times don't match up from the last time I faked sex. Then, you forced me to get a fucking DNA test to where I had to pay out of pocket when i'm barely making $13 an hour, to where I was barely making bills.

It came back with a 0% chance that she is his and I fucking knew it, I fucking called it! and I'm just like fine whatever it's just to get him to shut the fuck up at this point. For the last year and a half I've been begging him every other month have you filed? And he's dragging his feet. What the fuck is he hanging on to?

Here are the facts: he has been with his girlfriend for about a year ajd she still doesn't know he's still fucking married! In October of last year they went on a fucking trip from Phoenix to some shit place in fucking New Jersey on her dime which is great it was her aunt that paid for the trip because she needed to help out family...

he was working remotely which is fine and dandy but you still are fucking married and haven't signed divorce papers, retard. Just put the paperwork through. Right around Christmas they went on a motherfucking cruise a fucking cruise. MUST BE FUCKING NICE!

wanna know the last vacation I had? When my water fucking broke, and I spent a cool 8 days in the hospital thinking I'm going to die due to hemmorage, and my baby being a preemie thinking she will die too

I was fucking livid when I found out because dumbass decided to post his great life on fucking social media. Instagram of all places. It fucking made me see red. I work my ass off. I pay my fucking taxes, I pay my fucking bills, and I'm still fucking married to this goddamn loser! I'm still married to this God damn fat fuck who will not make a move!

If I have the money if I have the extra fucking money I would spend the time and energy to file for divorce. The extra money I had went o Bill's and somehow I finally bought a mattress that isn't sinking due to my partners ex wife fat ass causing it to sink in creating a fucking hole

He has all the fucking documents and I don't. so if I file for divorce I would be fucking guessing. Yes, it's all my fault because I don't know what he makes, I don't know where he lives, I think I remember the last four digits of his social security numberif I needed to file.

The matter the fact is, I left in December of 2019. I left a marriage that hadn't suit me for fucking years. I was in a marriage to where he was mentally unstable and a man who can't add 2+2. My excuse? I was in school at the time so any money I had for financial aid went to those fucking bills.

Fast forward to 2023:

When I get paid I look at my budget, when I get paid I look at what bills are due. I've never had a bank account mind you to where I don't have enough money and I OVERDRAFT. I do get the luxury of getting letters from the bank that he has overdrafted 3.00 every fucking time.

He is a fucking loser who can't get his life straight and at 40 he still fucking lying to his girlfriend thinking that going to get married, maybe whatever; but, she probably assumes that he's fucking single or separated or whatever she doesn't realize this fucking loser is still motherfucking married!

I made the choice of marrying him shows how low myself esteem was I knew when I left and I was with my current partner boyfriend baby daddy whatever the fuck you want to call him I knew this is it for me. I knew that I made a smart choice. we got pregnant right away which was such a shock.

it just got to a point where I guess he had a hard day at work and I was grieving and dealing with the death of my mom this is about 4 years ago. He saw me going through it and he said I can't deal with you right now and I took that as he can't deal with me at all. That's when I fucking checked out. I was fucking done.

That's when I started focusing on my health, my weight loss journey and my overall well-being.

In 2019 I finally was able to get a retail job working at a mall in Las Vegas selling clothes and I had that job for about 2 months.

Even though I had a shit paying job part-time at $9 an hour it was better than nothing. At least I had some line of work that I was doing to prove to in my resume that I'm not a worthless piece of shit.

So, when covid hit we made the choice to go back to Salt Lake because Las Vegas had completely shut down there was so much uncertainty and I was very newly pregnant I was maybe 8 weeks along when we moved. So for the last three and a half years it has been a fucking shit show.

I'm just so fucking angry. I don't have any alcohol to cope with it which is oh so healthy. I have fucking beer which is great I guess? I'm just realizing that I wish people would just leave me the fuck alone, and stop sucking any emotional energy from me. Most people that I've met are fucking toxic, and need to dive off a cliff.

I want my peace back. I don't fucking care anymore. After that shit show that happened with my ex so called best friend and realizing people fucking suck I should just move on but I kind of wish she fucking die. When you fuck with me I really hope karma I really truly hope karma fucks you.

welcome to my Ted Talk

[yunjinified]

Dream 1-The Game (Part 1)

A/N: This is the first dream in my series, all of the dreams in my series are dreams that I have had I have just touched them up a lot more and made them better to read. I hope you enjoy and can give me feedback on how to get better.

Word Count: 562 Part 1 | Part 2

When I woke up from the dream: I was just watching YouTube and then I came across this video. It was where someone was playing a game and they were told to look around but they didn’t and then they just died. Then I came across this livestream, where they were playing the game. They looked around and they saw these like silhouettes of humans that would come closer if you didn’t shoot them with this weird gun thing. And depending on how many you had killed, on the windows a picture just fell down like sand and then dissolved. So the person was not scared at all so they ended the live with like half the pictures and you can see how many pictures you got according to this map. And this was like placed in this three story house which was very large. The first floor was very scary and gray, the second floor was filled with bright plushies, and to get to the third floor you had to use a ladder but the person didn’t go up the ladder. And to start the game you have to sit at a computer that was just in the middle of the room you are in and then it tells you to look around and then you can get up and continue the game. Then I just randomly woke up in the dream and played the game and I was in my parents room for some reason and there was this desk like where the door was and then I started the game. And then I stopped because I was scared. Then I left the room and looked around. I kept on feeling there was something behind me so I went to the living room/ kitchen and I found my brother playing his game but I didn’t see him because I could only see part of the tv and my parents weren’t home. The dream just ended.

I was scrolling through my phone. Rain was pelting the windows, as if someone was attempting to break in. I really like this live streamer; they don't have a name or anything, but the game they always play looks like a lot of fun. Shadows are appearing from the walls, and if you don't catch them in time, who knows what may happen to you? Some claim that you vanish from the actual world. Others claim that the game is a fraud and that the streamer makes it appear extremely difficult while, in fact, it is quite simple. I'm not sure who to believe, but… I can't wait to get my hands on the game when it arrives in the mail.

2 days later

RING I dashed outdoors to see a hooded man holding a brown box. "Thank you!" I said as I stood at the door and handed the man a ten dollar bill. "I can't believe it's here at last!" I sat down on the bed and quickly opened the box as I mused to myself. There wasn't a CD inside as I had anticipated; instead, there was a small piece of paper with some numbers on it. “Huh? Why is there only a small piece of paper?” I had spent 20 dollars on a piece of paper, I flipped it over to see an instruction, ‘Place this number in the search bar of the website that you bought the game off of’. I was confused, yet for some reason I still did it. I had bought the game off amazon so I didn’t expect to see anything. “2…9…3…5…8…0…1…” I placed the numbers in the search bar and pressed enter, a black screen came up and I thought that my laptop was broken, until bright white writing came up on the screen, ‘use arrow keys to move, space for action’…“Well this should be fun”…

I started of in a dull living room that had an archway which led to the kitchen, for some reason I was sitting in the middle of the archway and I was sitting on a basic wooden chair and a small wooden table was in front of me, on the table there was a laptop, it stated how many shadows I had caught and what level I was on, it also showed a map to show how many pictures I had gotten. I was on level 0, which was supposedly an introduction round. I caught 0 out of 1 shadows. I got up from the chair and looked around like I was told to, I then proceeded with the game. I had a weird gun-like weapon in my hand. I was supposed to kill the shadow…but how? I looked at one of the windows, it had sand art on it, then it fell forward and onto the ground, I stepped back in shock, the sand disappeared. Congratulations! You have gotten one out of five hundred pictures!’ Five hundred, if I wanted to beat this game I had to find 500 pictures on windows.

In a trail of my thoughts I hadn’t realised that a shadow had started coming up the wall and going on the roof. I tried to shoot it with the gun, but the shadow lurched down off the wall and… “Kids! Dinner is ready!” My mum called for dinner, I should go.

[astralaffairs]

concept: first lady mc reads of fotp!tjeff’s speeches and edits them for all the things she thinks are stupid or unethical. and he’s like “sweetheart, my party isn’t ready for universal healthcare. i can’t be pissing people off within the first month of my presidency.” but she couldn’t give a fuck and continues marking up his speeches with a red pen all while insisting he gets a new speech writer.

y'all need 2 STOP hitting me w concepts i like this much i have 0 self control and WILL write every damn one of them. there are like 4 sitting in my inbox rn smh.

(by which i mean pls keep sending me concepts like this i love writing fotp drabbles)

---

"What're you still doin' up?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up as she looked up; a small, tired smile graced her lips as Thomas entered their bedroom, shaking his blazer off as the door fell shut behind him. "Hey. I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I've just been tying up a few final loose ends with what I've been working on before I go to sleep."

"Can it wait until the morning?" he asked. He laid his blazer on the back of a chair at the side of the room before immediately starting to loosen his tie. "It's gettin' late. And I miss spendin' time with you. You work too much."

She scoffed, but her smile was only growing at his words. "Did you, the President of the United States, just tell me that I work too much?" He rolled his eyes as she spoke, just discarding his tie on the floor beside their bed. "That really is rich coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want," he said, crossing the room to join her on their couch, "but you always overwork yourself, and you know it. You've been doin' it for as long as I've known you."

"Alright, I'll come to bed in a few minutes." He took a seat behind her, and when he rested his hand on her inner thigh, it sent shivers rippling across her skin. She looked up. "You go get some sleep. I'll finish this quickly. I promise."

"What're you workin' on, anyway?" She didn't protest when he withdrew the paper from her lap, glancing over it, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "Is this the address I'm givin' on Friday?"

"The very same."

"You shouldn't be losin' sleep over this," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head back toward her as he squeezed the top of her thigh lightly. "Either lose sleep spendin' time with your dear, sweet husband who's fucking sick of thinkin' about legislation, or just come to bed, hm?"

He passed her back the paper, instead looping an arm around her waist as he kicked his legs up onto their coffee table, and when he pulled her in to rest against his shoulder, she put up no protest.

"Just five more minutes. I promise." The barely-concealed yawn in her voice made Thomas look down at her skeptically.

"Alright, but I'm holdin' you to that. If you're still working in five minutes, I'll carry you to bed myself."

"No complaints here." She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth gently before she turned back to her paper, fidgeting with her red pen as she reached the last page of the document. Thomas's eyes had fallen shut; he was more than content to just sit there with her until she finished, as he had no desire whatsoever to think anymore about pushing his healthcare bill through Congress.

He opened his eyes when Y/N scoffed. Her pen ran down the page in a long slash, and she was pursing her lips as she jotted notes in the margins, but it made Thomas furrow his brow.

"Hey, now, what was so wrong with that paragraph?"

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing back at him. "You keep treating healthcare like it's some privilege that poor people should have to grovel at the feet of the rich to have access to. It can't be conditional like this."

"I'm not actin' like that," he defended. "I'm just sayin', hiking up taxes threefold isn't a sustainable way to fund this. It'd be an overreach from Congress. We've gotta use money efficiently."

"You fucking libertarian," she muttered. "The part of the bill about work requirements is gonna get killed in Congress. There's no way the House Democrats will vote to pass it unless you get rid of that."

"What's that got to do with my speech?"

"You're misrepresenting the legislation if you keep that paragraph," she said, proceeding to scribble out a sentence in the paragraph after. "And get rid of this. If you're trying to implement a public option, focusing on the private sector will get you nowhere. You're just gonna make people angry."

"I'm not 'misrepresenting' anything." He scowled. "Both those things are important for the bill."

"But this isn't a bill, Thomas; it's a speech," she huffed. "Anyway, the legislation needs to be universalized, or you can't 'mitigate poverty' how you claim to. Do you have any idea how many of the people who can't meet the work requirements on healthcare are going to end up in poverty because they can't afford the care they need?"

"I hear you," he started, "but this is the best way to make it more affordable without tankin' the economy."

"Have you even considered capital gains taxes?"

"That's gonna kill entrepreneurship."

"You're so full of it sometimes," Y/N scoffed. "'Entrepreneurs' won't be affected. It only affects, like, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, and they have so many assets that it literally doesn't matter."

"I'm not gonna sit here and argue with you about this. I'm not sayin' you're wrong, but I am sayin' this bill needs to be somethin' I can convince the Senate to pass," he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Then write a new bill that doesn't mean the people who are the worst off don't get coverage," she said, jotting that down on the side of the paper, "because this doesn't resolve the issue."

"I'll bring it up when I get the chance," he assured her, and she glanced back at him with a grateful smile. "Can I ask why this is so important to you?"

"Because I'm an empathetic person, and I care about people?" she replied, tone scathing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Woah, there. That wasn't an attack, sweetheart," he said. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not 'worked up,'” she bit back, but when he gave her an apologetic look, gaze soft, her annoyance began to subside. “This is just a sore subject for me." Y/N finally lowered the paper in her lap, turning her head toward Thomas. "I know I've told you about how long my parents spent in the hospital before they passed."

"Yeah. Yeah, you have," he said softly. He turned, orienting himself in Y/N's direction so he could pull her into his lap, and while she sighed, she laid back against his chest.

"When they died, I was left with most of their healthcare debt," she continued. "I was living far below the poverty line for almost a decade because of it."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she laced her fingers into his with his arms around her waist.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "I just don't want anyone else to end up in anything like the situation I was in. Nobody deserves that."

"No, they don't. I'll see what I can get past Congress." He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed contentedly, squeezing his hands. "But I've still gotta discuss my plan for healthcare on Friday, so stop demolishing my speech."

"You asked me to look over it," she said frankly, and though her eyes had fallen shut when she laid against him, she cracked one open to glance at him skeptically. "These are my edits. Change the bill."

"That's an awful weighty edit, sweetheart."

"Hey, I also improved your phrasing," she went on, holding his paper up where they could both see it. "I'm making your speech better, don't complain about it."

"You cut my section about deductibles?"

"No one wants to talk about deductibles, babe." She tapped the paper with the back of her pen. "They want to know whether they'll be insured or not. They won't listen to the nuances of your bill in your public address. You're going to need a press release for that."

"And the part about family values?"

"It was useless." She shrugged. "I know you're just pandering to your party and all, but it sounded stupid in the context of the speech."

"Harsh," Thomas said, and the offense in his voice was mostly dramatized. Y/N pursed her lips. "But I can't be breachin' party lines in this speech. I'm not gonna get anything done if I turn the Senate Republicans against me."

"Listen, I'm not a political strategist, so that's your prerogative," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you don't like my feedback on your speeches, then hire a damn speechwriter, Thomas."

He hummed reluctantly. "But havin' you review my speeches gives me an excuse to spend more time with you. I don't have a whole lotta interest in having even longer meetings with White House staffers."

"Then take my edits to heart." She pursed her lips. "You know very well that I'm the only reason you have bipartisan support. If I didn't pick fights with you once a week about green energy, all the Democrats would still oppose all your stances on it."

"I'll look back over the speech in the mornin', then," he decided, and she shifted on the couch to face him, legs still draped over his lap. "I trust you."

"Good," she replied, and she looped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. "But stop exploiting my degree in journalism."

"I'm not exploitin' it."

"Then what do you consider asking your wife to edit your speeches pro-bono to be?"

"A nice li'l side effect of managin' to convince someone so smart to marry me." She laughed as he pulled her back in to kiss him, but she gasped when he bit her lip teasingly, and his mouth drifted down her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too."

With that, Thomas hooked his arm up under her legs, and his smile widened against her neck when she yelped as he picked her up. "Now, I seem to remember sayin' something about carryin' you to bed if you were workin' for more than five minutes, so you don't get to negotiate anymore."

She squirmed in his grasp, but any of her efforts to get out of his arms weren't in earnest. She huffed. "So much for respecting personal liberty. Just wait until your voting bloc finds out all that rhetoric was just a lie."

"Oh, hush, let's not pretend you mind," he said as he tossed her down onto their bed, and she bounced when her back hit the mattress. He didn't hesitate to climb on after her. Though she tried to pull herself up to rest on the throw pillows, Thomas was on his hands and knees above her; she didn't have much of a range of movement when he dipped down to kiss her. "If you did, you wouldn't have married me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jefferson," she grumbled, despite wrapping her arms around his neck. "Talk all you want, but I dunno how smug you're gonna be when I up and leave you one of these days."

He grinned. "You know I don't buy that for a second." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward when he kissed her forehead. "You love me too much."

Despite everything, Y/N could feel herself flush. "Just go put on some pajamas so we can go to sleep."

"Alright, if you insist," he huffed, rolling off of her. "Be right back."

"You'd better hurry, or I might run off with Dolley and elope," she called after him, and Thomas laughed.

"'S cute, but we both know you aren't goin' anywhere."

"And why not?"

He raised a confident brow. "I'll tie you down if that's what it takes to keep you here, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she mumbled, turning to discard the throw pillows from the bed onto the floor.

When she looked back at him, his grin was still wide, smug, but the look in his eyes was soft. She pursed her lips as her own smile broadened. "Now go change. I'm not going to sleep without you."

"Fine. You need some rest.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

[ardentmuse]

Almost 2k celebration: Talbott Winger or Bill Weasley with 3 & 48. I would love to see what you can write for this, especially with how depressed I am right now over the sudden passing of our youngest dog. Congrats on almost 2k followers! And thank you for sharing your amazing stories with us.

Lovebirds

Harry Potter (HPHM) - Talbott Winger x Reader

3. I was dropped into a cave and you were my flashlight.

Wordcount: 1.7k 

Warnings: talk of death, talk of grief, but mostly fluff

Masterlist

A/N: Focusing on 3 for this one since I just posted a story based on 48. Also, I’m so sorry, love. My family just lost a dog yesterday, too, so I’m sending my love and support your way. I hope for healing for your family and that their memory will be a blessing.

You were contentedly eating your lunch in the courtyard when Rowan flicked open her copy of the Daily Prophet as had been your routine since the start of the school year. Rowan summarized for you the latest news. You listened for hints about the whereabouts of your brother, and together you enjoyed the good weather before Scotland became an uninhabitable slog of snow and bitter chill.

You took a bite of your sandwich and looked up as Rowan continued to read the sports report when something on the front page caught your eye.

It wasn’t the moving photo of the Minister’s latest trade meeting with the President of MACUSA or the striking headline about the current dittany’s shortages impact on potions prices.

No, it was something much smaller, a single line of start letters that sat just below the large script that read “The Daily Prophet”: today’s date.

At the sight of it, your stomach turned cold and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore.

“I have to go,” you mumbled as you abandoned your food to the cobblestone and scooped up your bags. Rowan looked up from the paper, shocked at your flustered departure. But you didn’t have time to explain. You were sprinting out of the courtyard without even a nod in goodbye. Rowan could only shout at your back that she’d bring the things you left behind to your dorm as you made your way deftly out through the castle grounds.

You were completely winded by the time you made it to the Owlery. The silence of the normally squawking creatures let you know that indeed Talbott was finding refuge among the birds. Of all the things your boyfriend was, on some days he was rather predictable.

As you entered, you saw only the tall expanse of his back, straight and strong clocked in his house robes. His hair was well slicked, brushing lightly at his collar due to lack of clipping. A small flock of owls surrounded him as he cupped his hands in front of him, holding what you assumed to be birdseed. Your own owl was among them, perching herself happily upon Talbott’s shoulder, like she could sense your love for him upon his skin. Inside her beak was a small golden chain that she was pulling from his neck. You knew that at the other end of that chain sat a long white feather, the presence of which was the whole reason why today was so hard.

“I’m here,” you said as you caught your breath, taking hesitant steps into the space that was in some ways a sanctuary for Talbott. You weren’t sure how welcomed you were to intrude upon Talbott’s own personal memorial service. “I’m here if you want me. And I’m sorry.”

When Talbott turned, you expected the small water lines that ran down his face, glistening in the midday light that cascaded in through the domed roof of the tower. You did not expect that where those lines met his lips you’d find a smile, true and pure and directed at you.

“Hi, dear,” he said, lifting his fingers to scratch lightly at the neck of your bird. She nuzzled into Talbott’s hair. You’d dare say she was as enamored as you were with the boy.

You hesitated, “Are you… okay?”

“No,” Talbott said honestly, “But I will be.”

He offered you another smile, and you felt it weird that on the anniversary of losing his parents, he seemed to be more interested in comforting you.

As if sensing your confusion, he beckoned you forward. Soon, you were in the crux of his arm, the remaining birdseed upon his fingers scattered into the corners of the room. Talbott gently guided you to the oriel to peer upon the beautiful Scottish countryside and Hogsmeade just a mile beyond.

You weren’t sure what to do as his arms engulfed you from behind. He rested his chin upon your shoulder as you looked out at the beauty of the vast world you called home, a world in which Talbott, at such a young age, had to fight tooth and nail to simply survive, a world that was as cold and evil and unyielding as it was thrilling and magical and tender.

Talbott offered a light kiss to your jaw as he hummed in contentment.

“I didn’t expect you to be so… pleasant today,” you said, hoping your words didn’t offend.

Talbott only laughed, “A year ago and I wouldn’t have been.”

He pulled away from you to rest his hands upon the windowsill, supporting himself as his gaze moved upward to take in the cirrus clouds above.

After a moment, you noticed tears were rolling down his face once more. He turned to look at you and when he spoke, his voice was not laced with any of the sadness you assumed still filled his soul.

“When I think about my parents, I don’t remember many details. Sure, I remember my mom teaching me how to fly and I remember that night that—“ Talbott took a breath before continuing. “But the mundane memories aren’t there, just this vague impression, like an aura. When I think about us, about our life together, I just see and feel this warmth. Love, if that makes sense.”

You nodded and moved closer to the window yourself, not sure if you were strong enough to maintain his soulful gaze.

Talbott continued, “My parents loved each other so much. They sacrificed everything to be together and to make the world a better place for me. On this day for the past ten years or so, that absence was all I could think about. When my parents died, they took that warmth with them.”

You were listening but your eyes were focused on the emerald of the rolling hills. Talbott’s long fingers tapped at your chin, gently coaxing your eyes back towards him. His face was close now, just inches away so that you could see all the individual hairs of his long arched brows, pulled together in seriousness.

“I was just shrouded in darkness. I was dropped into a cave,” he paused, scanning your face for something you weren’t sure of. You bit your lip a little as you took him in and his fingers reached upon the windowsill to remove your grip, interlocking your fingers as he pulled your hand up to his chest.

His next words were soft, sure, and slow.

“And you were my flashlight.”

A single tear rolled down his nose as he leaned forward to kiss your knuckles.

“I love you,” you blurted as you felt yourself crying in turn. Your boyfriend was not one for many words, opting instead to defuse his emotions with a pun or a strong lift of his eyebrow. But this speech, this piece of his heart open and on the table before you, was the last piece of the puzzle you needed to see the picture before you. And what a beautiful picture it was to love this man, to envision a future in which you two might fight for your love and your family the same way his parents did.

Talbott pulled his eyes from your palm to meet your gaze. He was smiling once more, though that annoyed sort of cheeky smile that was such a staple of his face.

“Just like you to steel my thunder,” he said before kissing your nose. “I love you, too.”

The words flowed so easily from his mouth like he had said them millions of time, not the nervous sort of rambling you’d expect from the first sharing of such a sentiment between you. But then your mind processed what he meant. He had been planning to tell you today that he loved you. Maybe it was the millionth time he had said it, only the first he had let it reach your ears.

You leaned in to kiss him on the lips properly, running your fingers through the hairs at the base of his neck and tugging yourself taut against his chest. His arms wasted not a single moment in grabbing at your hips, holding you steady as he leaned you back. Talbott wouldn’t want anyone else to know, but you were always amazed by just how adept he was with his lips, his tongue, his hands, his eagle-like precision carrying into even his affection for you.

Just as he started to nip at your lips, to press you against the stone of the wall, he pulled away. A third of his smiles found his face, the one he gave in triumph, when he knew he had flustered you wholly.

And flustered you were. Your lips were puffy and swollen, your heart pounding at even just the memory of his tongue dancing with your own, and your mind a fog with love and desire for him.

You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet when he began talking again.

“What do you say to a date tonight? We two lovebirds take a flight around town, have dinner, enjoy each other? Reclaim today as something good?”

“I’d like that,” you said as Talbott took your hand to rejoin the rest of the school in the daily ritual of classes and study sessions, clubs and dinners.

Talbott smiled, “I think my mum would, too.”

Only then did you notice the new weight upon your neck, the delicate chain of gold that softly scratched at your collar bone, upon which sat a long white feather of a woman whom you might never get the pleasure of meeting but whose love and care you knew too well.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech, @luckyvirgo, @hellizhelusive2, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid

[skgway]

1832 Nov., Tues. 6

8 50/..

12 1/2

Fine morning – Fahrenheit 49º at 9 20/.. a.m. – Called up to Wilson the joiner come about the library passage up and down stairs in 1/2 hour – Till 9 giving orders – Then breakfast with my father – Waited for Marian to order about flannel for waistcoats and drawers. Determined to have all ready to be off in January –

Had Washington – To have all the bills next week for wearing, mystal at Southolme etc. etc. – Just saw my aunt for a few minutes – Very kind 2 1/2 pages Letter from Miss McL– [MacLean] (Coll house aros) to say the bay on laurel leaved willows were sent off to Glasgow yesterday week with orders to be forwarded here immediately –

Off at 11 1/4 with Marian to call at the vicarage – There in 20 minutes and sat 1/2 hour with Mrs. Musgrave – Then went with Marian to Walker’s shop to order flannel etc. for things for me in readiness for being off – Hoped I really should be on route in January – Then parted with Marian –

Went to Whitley’s. Bought Hooper’s medical dictionary 25 /. [shillings] published at 28 /. [shillings] and in 50 minutes at Lidgate (at 1 1/2).  Miss W– [Walker] very glad to see me, I having said I should not go till tomorrow – Sat 1/2 hour with her and home at 2 1/2 –

Met Mr. Samuel Waterhouse junior (ætatis 17) at her gate – Stood talking a few minutes while Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood left Miss Walker – Mr. S[amuel] W[aterhouse] just came to her door to ask how she did – She said she should have me to nurse [her] now and really seemed much better and in good spirits. 

Talked of the agreeable surprise of seeing [me] but yet seemed more inclined to talk of business than love. I appeared in more than good spirits. She would think them all put on. And perhaps believe me feeling more acutely than I really did. I kissed her, but in a common way, and she did not push herself to me as yesterday and was more guarded.

She will not give me much reason now either to hope or despair. Her self possession will probably be undisturbed enough. I left her with no pleasant feeling, saying to myself, ‘Damn her. It is an arrow and perhaps a lucky escape.’ I dont think her answer will be yes.  And the more easily reconciled I am the better. Shall I dislike her by and by? At least I shall be more at liberty without her –

Fred Wilson, the joiner, and his man in the library passage at 2 1/2 – 26 or 27 inches lower than my blue room closet but determined not to be beaten with it, and went on – Dusty job to get the studding down –

Had only just managed and given orders what was to be done when James Holt came at 4 5/.. and had him till 6 – Something must be wrong that Mr. Jeremiah Rawson will not let go into their works – Probably they are stealing my coal already – Holt says I should not take less than £200 per acre but if he was in their place he would not give £250 per acre –  

Said I had at 1st asked the price between the 2 leases (£205 and £230) = £217.[pounds] 10. [shillings]. 0 [pence] but had said I should be worse to deal with now – Proposed asking £220 per acre but Holt owned the coal was worth as much now as when sold to Oates and Green and worth quite as much or more to Rawsons than to them (∴ [therefore] I ought to have £230 per acre) –

Owned too that I ought to have more for the coal at the top of the land, for it would make that at the bottom of less value. He thought they had a hundred yards plumbing dip i.e. could get with the water head a hundred yards breadth on this side and alongside the present waterhead driven by Oates and Company – Should shew Mr. J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] the coal plan – Ask him what fields he wanted and might let him Hugh grave field and the coal ungot to the north west of it and to the north east down in a straight line under the cunnery plantation down to the road but not to let him come lower down – 

Owned afterwards it would be as well not to let him come lower than the Cunnery houses, for if he got down to the brook he could throw such a quantity of water upon us – If he did not come lower down than Cunnery houses or the present Wakefield road, I might leave or fence of coal or turn the water, and not be so much injured –

Holt would meet J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] on the ground and see what he wanted – No air pit necessary for the lower bed coal, and not to sell any upper bed but by a separate agreement – Upper bed costs 6 d [pence] a score (corves) more getting than lower bed, and not being able to get it all, obliged to leave posts, makes it not work so much by £50 an acre as lower bed –

If J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] would not let Holt go into his works, I might propose either of the 2 brothers Squire or Tom Lassey of Thornhill, the former steward to Mr. Ingham of Misfield – In making the agreement to have surface measure, and the power to send down people into the works whenever I liked, and to have a clause to prevent J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] damming or turning any water back into the old works after he had got the coal (Had I not better have a bond of indemnity against this?) otherwise he might drown me in water and prevent my getting the coal below where he had been getting and had turned the water –

It was right enough that I should make no allowance for gauls or jumbles or ruttle – Great difference between drawing out at the day and pulling up thro’ a shaft – At their (Holt’s) pit on Swales moor 150 yards deep pulling costs them 18 pence a score; and ropes cost them £15 or £16 a year – One collier may be reckoned to get 25 corves a day for five days in a week – If J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] gets £100 profit per acre it will be quite enough –

Then see according to the following what to ask an acre for the coal –

Making all sufficient allowances there will come out of one square yard 5 corves, which (as J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] sells at 7 d [pence] and 8 d [pence] a corve, average at 7 1/2 d [pence] a corve –

Expense of getting 20 corves (or one score) 4 /. [shillings] to the colliers –

Banksman 1 /. [shilling] a score – wear and tear say 6 d [pence] a score, certainly enough –

Lower bed 18 inches thick – Lightcliffe bed 25 inches thick – Billy stocks paid £260 an acre 5 or 6 years ago for what he bought – This that Hinscliffe is taking must be worth as much – He will have very little to sink – 14 or 16 yards and coals worth less as nearer the surface – But not for being dry – But there is a gaul that throws up the coal near Lidgate (breaks out in the road going up the hill) and there cannot be any coal on this side that gaul near more than a daywork or 2 to get in that field next below the Smith (Hinscliffe’s) –

Speaking of Godley, wished Holt not to let it go for nothing but said I had mentioned it to Mr. Samuel Freeman – Holt said I could employ no one better – He said it was North £80 a daywork but £ a daywork was the outside – ∴ [therefore] the 20 dayworks = £2000 

Carr has been arrested several times lately – Speaking of the cottages on Godley land, Holt knows that the 4 belonging to his uncle George Holdsworth would be sold – Cost £50 each building and £40 the ground – But might be had he thinks for £ 200 – Will inquire and let me know –

Speaking of his farm, some people might buy it at 3 1/2 percent Rent £66 per anum but it would not suit him to buy land at that price – He explained the manner of working coal pits – Asked him to give me an underground plan of a pit in working and asked him to let me know when I could go down with him into one of his pits. I must understand coal-getting before I have done with it – Holts pit at Binns bottom will be ready for working in 2 months from this and I can go in at the day –

Dinner at 6 3/4 – In 1/2 hour wrote and sent at 7 35/.. 3 pages to “Dr. Belcombe York” or rather 2 pages and 3 or 4 lines to him and the rest to his wife, to be torn off and given to her, thanks for her letter and to say yes! I thought black velvet properly garni au blonde (white) would be very becoming to her –

Told him wished I could give a better account of his patient, but she was not worse on his hands, which was marvellous considering the affliction she had had on account of the sudden death of her most particular friend, the news of which had arrived the day after our leaving York – No pills last Thursday – Begged to have them next Thursday – Ask how long they are to be gone on with without interruption – She thought at 1st, but not afterwards, they gave her much physicky pain in her bowels – These last had behaved very well considering the affliction she had been in –

In fact, she believed she could not have been so well now, had she not had his advice – He is ‘in très bonne odeur’ and his patient has faith enough in him – Mr. Day has been and, I suppose, would not let her believe in her own existence without the use of his ointment but ‘ce nous est égal’ – Ask him to write a letter I can shew. Not to spare a little anxiety and to ask whatever questions he knows will be proper. ‘Indeed not say I have the good of your reputation at heart’ –

John’s son Joseph Booth came over with Scott’s head groom to bring 2 perfect horses to Mr. Thomas Dyson of Willow field – Had him (Joseph B– [Booth]) in and spoke to him – He is grown, and improved – Perhaps I shall take him with me abroad – Then writing journal of today – Had John in – He is much pleased and satisfied with his son – Talked to him about his family – To send Charlotte for my aunt, to hear her read and see her sewing so as to be able to judge what she can do and be fit for –

Then my father and Marian just gone to bed. A few minutes with my aunt – Then came back to the drawing room – Read my letter from Vere dated Turin 24 October 3 pages and ends of small sheet (Frankfort paper) – Very nice chit chat amusing letter –

And read my letter from Lady Stuart (Richmond park) enclosing Vere’s 2 last to her – A kind 1/2 sheet full and a few lines on the envelope (franked by Lord Goderich) from Lady S– [Stuart]. These letters put me in spirits. I am better without Miss W[alker] – 

11 1/2 before I had read my letters and written so far of today –

5 corves at 7 1/2 d pence = 37 1/2 d [pence] = 3 1 1/2 per square yard

One score or 20 corves = 12/6 [shillings/pence] expense of getting which = 4 /. [shillings] to the colliers. 

∴ [therefore] 12/6 - 5/6 = 7 /. [shillings] clear gain per score = 1 /. [shilling] to the banksman or per 4 square yards = ./6 [shilling/pence] wear and tear (quite enough) –

At the forgoing rate, 5 corves or 1 square yard = clear gain of 1/9 [pound/shillings], 1 score (20 corves) or 4 square yards = clear gain of 7 /. [shillings] ∴ [therefore]

1 acre or 4840 square yards = at 1/9 [pound/shillings] per square yard or 7 /. [shillings] p[e]r 4 square yards = £423. [pounds] 10. [shillings] 0 [pence]

Now Holt said this calculation would do, and that £100 clear gain per acre was enough ∴ [therefore] if I have £250 per acre J[eremiah] R– [Rawson] has a profit of 423. [pounds] 10. [shillings]. 0 [pence] – 250 = £173. [pounds] 10. [shillings] 0 [pence]

Very fine day – Went up to my room at 11 50/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 49º

[sideways in margin] Sunday 23 December 1832 vide page 231, suppose Messieurs R– [Rawson] to sell at 7 1/2 per corve or 12/6 per score and allow half for expenses, then 48040/4 or 1210 x 6 shillings x 3 d [pence] = £363 + 15. [pounds] 2. [shillings] 6 [pence] = £378. [pounds] 2. [shillings]. 6 [pence], so that paying me £230. [pounds] 10. [shillings] 0 [pence] per acre then remains to Messieurs a profit per acre of £147. [pounds] 12. [shillings] 6 [pence]

[magnesiaandlemonjuice]

Monday 4 December 1826

6 40/60

11 1/2

In my salon at 7 1/2 - made my fire - had gone with the washer woman and put my things by at 8 5/60 - at my desk at 8 10/60 - from then to 10 1/2 (breakfast at 10 1/2) and 3/4 hour afterwards ruling and arranging one 1/2 sheet for part of of my book of summaries of the housekeeping etc. accounts - finished dressing - skimmed over the advertisements in Galignani -

put on the gown Madam Huchez has cleaned and done up and altered a little and sent home on Thursday or Friday my better merinos it does very well -

went out at 1 in a fiacre directly to rue Grange Batelière No - if our clocks be still 5 minutes too soon, it was 1 5/60 when I got there - the porter said they were not gone out - on us ringing (au premier above, au entresol, a nice looking lofty antichamber) and asking for Mr and Madame Newte a French femme de chambre answered ‘ce n’est qu’à deux heures’ [it’s only two o’clock] - Oh! oh! thought I to myself as I left my 2 cards, not sorry not to have been admitted I shall learn in time - one ought not to make calls before 2 - thence to rue de la Chaussée d’Antin No 13, [vide page 28] to Mallet the banker’s, and got cash for Mrs Lynn’s bill for 72/25 - thence to rue Thevenot no 24 Galignani’s paper gives No 21 - wrong chez Durand - found that Chandelle diaphane or de Chapelle was of the best [Lond?] spermaceti which being dearer here than wax, makes these candles 3/70 i.e. 2 sous a lb. more than the best wax - but they are liked here for their beauty being so beautifully white - they are called de Chapelle for the man whom Durand succeeded in the business - He shewed me some bougie-merigot or bougie-économiqe (he sells nothing but bougies) par breveté, wax outside, mutton suet inside which destroys the transparency of the candle, at 2/20 0 bought a lb of each on Trial - he assured the candles were longer than I should get them at the shops where instead of weighing like his a full lb of 16 oz they only weighed 15 3/4 oz the paper weighing the other 1/4 oz - thence to Galignani’s where I paid for his paper from the 1st instante mese [this month] to 31 May next 46/. thence to Madame Huchez’s to tell her to send the bill for doing up the merinos she made me 18 months ago - thence home and came in at 2 1/2 - an hour settling my accounts looking over my money and one thing or other - then wrote all but the 4 first lines of today which took me till 4 1/4 - Told Galignani’s Caissier I could not find L’écho de la Halle at no 51, rue saint Honore - He said many inquiries had been made about it - He knew nothing about it - perhaps it was not published now - the paragraph was taken from a French paper - did not know what paper - Nobody will give any information about this Echo de la Halle - it seems as if nobody wished the English to know anything about it - I will not rest till I find out all about it - George took my little note to Madame Galvani (written and dated last night) before breakfast and brought back a basket of 30 large pears for preserving which she sometime since promised to get for me - my note was merely ‘ma chère comtesse J’ai recu des nouvelles d’Angleterre qui m’obligent de sortir demain matin - J’en suis fachée parce qu’il faut encore perdre le plaisir de vous voir - Mercredi à l��heure ordinaire s’il vous plait - Agréez l’amitie de AL-’ From 4 25/60 to 5 40/60 ruling more paper for summaries and making minutes of my ideas how to finish this matter another day - wrote the last 5 lines - Dinner at 6 10/60 - came into the salon at 7 1/2 - read the whole of this mornings paper the porter’s wife at 8 1/2 and stayed till 9 55/60 - In great establishments people have their casseroles new tinned (itaimé) every month at 0/50 each casserole - fine day till about 1 1/2 - then began to rain gently - wet afternoon and evening afterwards - went to my room at 10 - [O one dot, marking discharge] -

[Margin - F38 1/2 at 8 a.m. 42 - 12 1/2 p.m. 44 1/2 - 2 1/2 - 38 - 6 - 39 - 10 1/2 -]

A rough translation of Anne’s note to Madame Galvani - My dear countess I received news from England which obliges me to go out tomorrow morning - I am annoyed because one must lose the pleasure of seeing you - Wednesday at ordinary time please - Accept the friendship of AL-

SH:7/ML/E/10/0025

[whydoesfireburn]

The first chapter of Why Does Fire Burn? now on Tumblr

There are spelling and grammar mistakes but enjoy anyway.

 “Shoto wake your ass up,” Dabi yelled at his little brother, banging on the door.

    “Screw off,” Shoto muttered back, hiding his face in his pillow. The morning was too evil to wake for. Then there was a quieter, much more gentle knock.

    “Come on, Shoto,” Fuyumi said, opening the door and walking in, “You have the entrance exam today. You don’t want to be late.”

    He groaned but got up when Fuyumi ran a hand through his hair. Shoto got dressed in his school uniform after his sister left and then came out for breakfast.

    Fuyumi was making eggs, bacon, and rice, and Dabi was scrolling through his phone at the table. Shouto sat down next to him, and without looking, his older brother messed up his hair in a playful manner.

    “Stop it,” he says, hitting at his hand. Dabi smirks and puts his phone down. Fuyumi, bless her soul, placed our plates in front of them, and they began eating.

    “Natsu’s coming home tonight for dinner,” their sister said halfway through.

    “Cool,” the youngest said with his mouth full of food.

    “What do you guys want for dinner?” she asked.

    “Soba,” Shoto said.

    “Was that even a question?” Dabi asked. 

    Soon it’s time for Shoto to go. Dabi and Fuyumi were watching as Shoto put his shoes and jacket on.

    “You’re going to do great,” Fuyumi reassured, straightening her brother's jacket, “And if not, it’s okay. We’ll find something else. Don’t worry.”

    “I’m not worried,” he said.

    “She was talking to herself,” Dabi said. Fuyumi then smacked his shoulder.

    “Come to the shop after the exam,” Dabi said.

    “Got it,” Shoto said before opening the door, “Bye,” he said, stepping out of our apartment. Shoto sucked in a breath and said, “Let's do this.”

    XXX

Shoto Yukitomo was 15 years old when he went to take the UA entrance exam. He had almost blinding snow-white hair that was long but didn’t go past his neck. He had mismatched heterochromia eyes. One stark gray, and other burning turquoise. Over his left eye was a large burn scar. His papers said that his Quirk was named Cryokinesis. It allowed him to control the ice he made.

    Yukitomo did well in the exam. Using his ice to freeze robots before they could strike him. In the end, he had close to 78 points. But then the ground began to shake and rumble. And then there was the faux villain worth 0 points. He made a massive ice wall. Stopping the thing in its path.

    XXX

After the exam was over, Shoto headed to Dabi’s shop. Dabi ran a tattoo parlor called Cremation Ink. It was a pretty good size and had a nice setup. Music was always playing, and the place was warm and bright. It smelled like ink, burnt wood, and coffee. Dabi seemed to really love running the place, but the business could be slow sometimes. Dabi had to work a part-time job at the record store down the street just to make sure that he could run this place and keep the apartment the siblings lived in. Sure Fuyumi worked too, but, a preschool teacher doesn’t make all that much.

    Shoto walked in and heard the sound so the old American bands Dabi liked to play. Along with that was a buzzing noise that came from a tattoo gun. Shoto walked in further and saw that my brother was in the middle of work.

    Knowing it to be a while before they’d go, Shoto moved over to the large leather couch back at the front of the shop and pulled out his book and read. An hour and a half later, the two come in the front of the store. The customer was a guy with a bright blue mohawk with the sides of his head shaved. The tattoo he had gotten was of a blue dragon running down his arm.

    “You sure you like it?” Dabi asked as they reached the door.

    “Man, I freaking love it,” the guys said, “It’s sick as fuck.”

    “I’m glad,” Dabi said, “So, you’re good with me putting it on my site, social media pages, right?”

    “Yeah, man, go nuts.”

    “Alright, come back soon,” Dabi said, holding the door open for the other guy.

    “Will do Dabi,” the guy said before leaving.

    “How was your day?” Shoto asked, not looking up.

    “Fine, yours?”

    “Fine,” he said, “You talking to that guy you met last month?”

    “Don’t,” his brother warned, walking towards the back.

    “What?”

    “Shoto, I am serious.”

    “Is that hard for you?”

    “Do you want to die brat?” he asked, “Because I can make that happen.”

    “You wouldn’t hurt me. Fuyumi won’t let you,” Shoto said, eyes still glued to the pages.

    It’s another half an hour before the brothers lock up and head home. On their way back to the small apartment, Dabi asked,” So how was it?”

    “Fine, I guess,” the white-haired boy said. 

The two brothers couldn’t look more different as they walked down the street. Dabi was a good couple inches taller even though he has been on the short side most of the time. Shoto was tall, too, but not his brother’s height. Shoto had snow-white hair, and Dabi had jet black. Both of them had pale skin, but Dabi’s arms and torso were covered in ink. Images of flames, snowflakes and monsters, flowers, and other symbols. His ears and nose were pierced in several places.

When they got home, they found that their other two siblings were back. Fuyumi was working on dinner, and Natsuo was in the living room, TV blaring. Shoto plopped down next to his older brother, and Natsuo ruffled his hair.

“Hey, Sho, how the exam?” he asked.

“Good, I think.”

“I’m going to go look over some calls,” Dabi said, shrugging his jacket off. 

“Then you go and shower,” Fuyumi said, “You too, Shoto.”

Shouto just sat, leaning against his other brother as they watched the news. For a split second, the was flash of the number two hero on the screen, but before anything on the TV could be said, the channel was changed to a volleyball game that was on.

“Who the hell used all my shampoo?” Shoto asked, coming out of the bathroom, shaking the empty bottle.

“Shouto,” Fuyumi said, “You use too much of it.”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Yes, you do. And so does Natsu.”

“Leave me out of this,” the older boy said.

“Did you use it?” Shoto asked.

“ I will not confirm or deny anything.”

Shoto threw the empty bottle at his brother, but Natsuo caught it. Shoto growled.

Later Dabi came out of the shower, and they ate dinner. The four siblings talked about their day. Dabi spoke about people who went into the shop. Fuyumi shared stories about her class. Natsuo talked about his professors and classes. And Shoto talked about his entrance exam.

“They made you fight robots?” Natsu asked.

“Yep.”

“Huh, well that something.”

“Speaking of school,” Dabi said, “Have you picked a major?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe physical therapy,” Natsuo said, “You know so I can help people.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Fuyumi said, smiling.

As they got more into the meal, Shoto’s brows knitted together for a moment. “What am I going to do if I don’t get into UA?” his tone wasn’t one of despair or dread. It was one born out of pure curiosity.

All three of his siblings looked at him for a moment and thought. What would Shoto do?

“You become a hoodlum like your brother,” Natsu tested. Dabi hit him up the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Don’t worry, Shoto,” Fuyumi said, resting her hand on top of her brothers, “If UA doesn’t work, we could find another hero school. Or we can find something else for you to do if you want. We just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” Shoto said.

         If you were to look at Yukitomo siblings, you would see that they were closer than anything. That they were loyal and relied on each other. The neighbors thought they were all delightful children. They truly didn’t deserve what happened to them. It was horrible luck for such sweet children. To have their father horribly, painfully killed in a home invasion, which left poor Shoto scared, and their mother insane. Poor Dabi had been tasked with keeping all of his siblings safe at such a young age. All four of them worked so hard to stay together. Truly lovely children, with terrible luck.

After dinner, the four cleaned up dinner and sat in the living room and watched action movies.

XXX 

Later that night, while the younger two of the siblings were asleep, Fuyumi and Dabi stayed up talking.

“I’m get worried,” Fuyumi said, pacing the kitchen floor, “We’re running out of money. I’ve been looking over the bills and checks, and we only have enough for maybe the first third of the year. And we can’t just have Shoto and Natsuo go out and get jobs with them both going to school,” she ran a hand threw her long white hair.

Dabi didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was getting worried too. She was right. Money was growing thin, and their brothers couldn’t get jobs like they did. Natsuo would be in college, and Shoto was going to going to a hero school of all things. He wasn’t going to put the stress of getting a job on them.

“Yumi,” he said after a minute, his voice sounding more confident than he felt, “Don’t worry. I have a bunch of appointments scheduled over these next few months. It will be more than enough.”

“But will it?” She asked, worried, “Dabi, you know how hard it is to support all of us. You know sometimes, a fully booked month is hardly enough.”

“Relax,” he told her, “I have a plan if things start getting bumpy.”

“What?!” she cried a little too loud. She had stopped pacing, “Join a gang and sell drugs? Rob a bank? Sell off all of our things?”

“No,” he said, trying not to get upset with her worry. She was much more open with emotion in times of stress when it was just them.

“Then what?” she asked, “And if you say Taijo, I swear to the gods-”

“I promise it’s not Taijo,” he whispered, “And keep your voice down, you’ll wake Natsu and Sho.”

“What is it then?” she asked, more softly, her hands shaking.

“We draw some cash from our funds,” Dabi said plainly.

“Touya!” Fuyumi cried before she was hushed. Dabi cringed at the sound of the name. It was strange and bitter after so long. Even though it was the dead of night there was no one else, but them were up, Dabi looked around. Checking to make sure no one heard. After a minute, he let out a sigh, and his shoulders dropped.

Dabi looked at his sister, and placed his hands on her shoulders carefully, “Yumi, listen to me. I know it’s risky, but we’ve gotten away with it before. No one knows they’re there, and no one will know that the money’s gone. And it is just a little bit. Just a little bit of cash, that’s ours anyway. We’ll wait for a few more months. And if the business at the shop keeps doing well, then we won’t. Please, Yumi, trust me on this.”

Fuyumi looked down at the ground. She was shaking a little bit, and tears were welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want to look at her brother. Her older brother, who always made sure she was safe and okay. Who would hold her when she cried. Who took on all the problems Fuyumi couldn't figure out on her own. She felt weak next to him. Dabi pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded.

“Okay,” she sobbed, “but only in a few months. Promise me.”

“Okay,” he said, rocking her, “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m sorry I’m not stronger-”

“Fuyumi, you’re stronger than any of us,” Dabi said, in a gentle voice, “You do things that I never could. You handle all our finances, you cook and take care of us when we’re sick, you help Shoto and Natsuo with homework when the world knows I couldn’t have. You are so strong, Fuyumi. I never want you to think otherwise.”

She nodded. For the longest time, Dabi just stood there holding his little sister. It was moments like this; they both remembered how much they need each other to get through things. How they had to work together to make sure their little brothers could have it better than they did.

 “It’s okay,” Dabi promised, “It’ll be okay, Yumi. Only five more years of the hard stuff. Five more years,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Five more years. Then they could finally make a move and not worry about as much about losing each other.

XXX

(Two Weeks Later)

Two weeks later, the four Yukitomo siblings were in the kitchen. Fuyumi was grading some papers, and Dabi and Natsuo were talking about work and school. Shoto was looking through the mail. There were six pieces of it. Three of them were bills. One was a postcard from one of Fuyumi’s friends. The other was a magazine. Finally, there was a letter to Shoto. From UA.

Shoto slowly opened it without saying anything. Then a small dice dropped out. Then a holographic image popped out of All Might. The other siblings turn their heads, and their jaws dropped.

They all sat and listen to the results. In the end, tears ran down the siblings' faces, and there was the tightest group hug of their lives. They all smiled and laughed for a good long while. Once all the crying and laughing stopped, and they all let go of each other, Shoto said, “I’m going to UA.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Dabi said, hugging him, “You are.”

Shoto was going to UA, and he was going to be a hero. A hero who helps people, like his siblings, helped him, and he was going to a better hero than he ever was.

[thesportssoundoff]

“A very weird card for a very weird month” UFC Fight Night: Weidman vs Reyes Preview

Joey

October 14th, 2019

It's Octobr and the UFC's scheduling usually goes like this in my estimation:

Jan- New year, we're all excited, folks get injured, overpacked shows in December hurt the new year but we deal with it.

Feb- Injuries/cold means makeshift cards, people get mad.

March- Shows are a bit fatter, big title fights are coming around, people are excited.

April- The "set up" for the summer months, usually really good fight cards on paper with little to no name value.

May- Normally the "bad" PPV month, free events are good.

June- The last month before things get wild and wooly. PPV's tend to be damn good, free cards tend to be pretty balanced.

July- Everything has to be BIG so you get BIG PPV and then an event or two after the PPV that drag down the blocks average.

August- The end of the summer, injuries get heavy because of the seasonal change, focus is on prepping for November and December.

September- OH MY GOD EVERYBODY IS HURT! EVERYTHING IS REALLY WEIRD! THERE'S SO MUCH GOING ON!

October- The down month where they're scrapping and salvaging just to get to MSG. Shows are pretty much whatever they can put together without working too hard. Usually where they do some kind of weird Canadian card. The cards tend to bounce between "This is surprisingly good" and "I don't have the time or the energy for this".

November- IT'S MSG! IT'S LOADED! What about the rest of the month? Ah, okay then. Carry on.

December- The end of the year where they try to end with a bang. Normally a lot of drama, prep for 2020. We get fights announced for next year that usually top what we're being offered this year. Big PPV to end things on the right note.

This card is pretty much 100% October. You have a kind of weird but kinda good main event at the top of the bill, a really good yet weird co-main event under it, a really weird but kinda good HW fight and then a bunch of Northeast projects and prospects. If you remove the top three fights, finding the next good fight that is objectively good might depend on how you feel about Gillian Robertson vs Maycee Barber. Me personally I think you can do far, far worse than Barber vs Robertson and actually quite like the fight as a good test for Maycee Barber. After that? You have some highly touted prospects coming off losses (Manny Bermudez, Randy Costa, Boston Salmon), some guys off the Contenders Series trying to find their niche (Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Jonathan Pearce)  and a bunch of filler. It's kinda not bad filler though? Everything about this card is just weird, folks. Bare with.

Fights: 13

Debuts: Tanner Boser, Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Sean Brady, Diana Belbiţă, Ben Sosoli, Jonathan Pearce

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: (Zabit Magomedsharipov vs Calvin Kattar CANCELLED/Eric Spicely OUT, Kevin Holland IN vs Brendan Allen)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 5 (Greg Hardy, Jeremy Stephens, Yair Rodriguez, Chris Weidman, Joe Lauzon)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 1 (Joe Lauzon)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: 6 (Dominick Reyes, Chris Weidman, Greg Hardy, Gillian Robertson, Maycee Barber, Kevin Holland)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2017 (in the UFC): 24-15

Chris Weidman- 1-2 Dominick Reyes- 5-0 Jeremy Stephens- 3-3 (1 NC) Yair Rodriguez- 2-1 (1 NC) Greg Hardy- 2-1 Ben Sosoli- 0-0 Joe Lauzon- 1-3 Jonathan Pearce- 0-0 Gillian Robertson- 4-1 Maycee Barber- 2-0 Deron Winn- 1-0 Darren Stewart- 3-4

Fights By Weight Class (yearly number here):

Featherweight- 3 (52) Women’s Flyweight- 2 (31) Middleweight-  2 (40) Heavyweight- 2 (31) Welterweight- 1 (62) Light Heavyweight- 1 (39) Bantamweight- 1 (53)

Lightweight- (66) Women’s Strawweight- (26) Flyweight-  (15) Women’s Featherweight- (8) Women’s Bantamweight-  (18)

2019 Number Tracker

Debuting Fighters (33-55-1)- Tanner Boser, Brendan Allen, Sean Woodson, Sean Brady, Diana Belbiţă, Ben Sosoli, Jonathan Pearce

Short Notice Fighters (28-35)- Kevin Holland

Second Fight (52-34)- Randy Costa, Boston Salmon, Deron Winn

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (20-37-1)- Charles Rosa, Joe Lauzon, Daniel Spitz

Undefeated Fighters (35-37-2)- Dominick Reyes, Sean Woodson, Maycee Barber

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (11-8)-

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (29-20)- Chris Weidman, Manny Bermudez

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Why is a New York vs New York fight taking place in Boston? I know that might not matter from a lot of folks but as the guy who grew up with boxers headlining in their home markets, this irks me.

2- I feel like this main event almost depends entirely on how you view Volkan Oezdemir as a fighter. The last time we saw Dom Reyes, he was given a really hard tough fight against Volkan Oezdemir in London. I don't think "robbery" is fair but I do think if you scored it for Volkan then you have a justifiable grumble about him losing that decision. What has gone under the radar is that Reyes did a tremendous job to adjust to what wasn't working and mix in more work to the body to keep it close and then the general rule of "win the third round, win the fight" wins out. I think there's no shame in a young prospect getting tested on his way up the ranks and managing to get by. You'd rather see warts now than in the middle of the first round of a title fight. Also Volkan Oezdemir is proving to be a pretty good quality 205er who even in his losses has moments of success. As such, I'm left to wonder if folks are a bit too harsh on a dude who iced Jared Cannonier, had no issues with OSP and remains the most exciting LONG TERM prospect at 205 lbs.

3- Is it too late for Chris Weidman? Despite the calls of folks to move up in weight, Weidman held off until seemingly all options were exhausted at 185 lbs. The fact of the matter and the unbearable truth is that Chris Weidman's style was based all on his durability and versatility simply fell apart when he needed it the most. He couldn't withstand the wars he was putting himself in at 185 lbs and his wrestling isn't as advertised anymore. At the same time, he still subbed Kelvin Gastelum, has a Hall of Fame worthy resume and enters a division where mid tier MWs are having breakout runs to title shots. Weidman can still crack, has a variety of offensive tools in his backpocket and in SPURTS he's still a good wrestler. Weidman's biggest problem for me as a wrestler has always been his lack of control once fights hit the turf but maybe cutting less weight will help. Then again Luke Rockhold didn't get much help in that regard either.

4- Here's how I'm beginning to feel about guys from 185 lbs going up to 205 lbs. If you're an athlete (Thiago Santos, even Anthony Smith to some degree) then it can work because the athletic barometer at 205 is better than HW but lowert han any other weight class. Guys who are fast at 185 lbs will remain fast at 205 lbs because that travels. They're also likely to hit a lot harder given the increase in weight. That said, if you're slow or clunky, no amount of weight cutting is going to fix that. Luke Rockhold simply looks and perhaps may just be a slow and clunky guy. Against Jan Blachowicz, he LOOKED like a heavier version of his usual self. What makes me worried about Chris Weidman and his chances at 205 lbs is that he's slow, clunky and kind of sort of broken. I don't think his body and his (lack of) speed will travel much at 205 lbs.

5- So who is hurt more by having to cut weight again for this fight, Yair or Jeremy Stephens? I kind of think it'll be Yair but I also saw him show up on two weeks notice to fist fight the Korean Zombie.

6- I really hope there's a chance, honestly and truthfully, that Joe Lauzon calls it quits win or lose. Lauzon feels like one of those guys who would be better suited in his personal life giving up the ghost and embracing the next phase.

7- This feels like the first real card to roll out the Contenders Series for season 3 so I'll break down who is whom and how they got here:

HW Ben Sosoli faces Greg Hardy- Sosoli is an Aussie kickboxer who made the MMA transition, fought on TUF and emerged on the DWCS in season 3. He had a "no contest" but was on his way to winning the fight before an eye poke (by him) ended the fight. Sosoli is being brought in to have a slugfest with Hardy.

LW Jon Pearce has a pretty crazy story. He was in a coma after getting jumped by somebody at his gym after hours. He recovered and fights like every southeastern dude who has ever fought in the UFC; basically scrapping when he wants to and wrestling out of trouble when he has to. I would say "He's the kind of guy who can give Joe Lauzon trouble" but I think at this point anybody with a working pulse gives him trouble.

FW Sean Woodson is REAL interesting. He took on a super prospect in his DWCS fight and struggled with the consistent wrestling----then he hit one of the cooler flying knees ever and scored a walk off second round KO. Dana even admitted that his finish was TOO good to not get signed despite the concerns he had about his wrestling.

MW Brendan Allen is your yearly "LFA has a middleweight champ and we gotta sign him" guy. He's accomplished-ish at 12-3 with some losses to good competition (Anthony Hernandez and Eryk Anders are both having solid runs). He's a violent kinda dude but I think he's a step below Ian Heinisch and Anthony Hernandez IE: he's kinda sketchy.

8- Boston Salmon was a really hyped L(R)FA prospect, the kind of guy who the UFC normally signs before he's ready and rushes out there. Salmon won on the DWCS in Season One and disappeared, re-emerging this year before losing in ugly fashion in his first fight with the organization. We've detailed here how badly debuting fighters struggle but also how much better they do in their second go around. Of course the same could be said for his opponent Boston Salmon. I guess win or lose, I think Salmon's going to look worlds better than he did in his debut. It couldn't in theory have looked much worse?

9- I wish I knew about Molly McCann's opponent so I could somewhat excited about her fight upcoming. Diana Belbita lost to Ariana Lipski who Molly McCann beat so....I dunno dudes.

10- I wonder how many fighters people would know off of this main card. 4 or 5 tops? Manny Bermudez, Molly McCann, Kevin Holland  and then?

11- So let's talk about Kevin Holland briefly, shall we? Holland's UFC run has been weird to say the least. Holland debuted on short notice against THIAGO SANTOS (!), took all of Santos' best offense and somehow lived to tell the tale about it. In large part, Holland's ability to just talk copious amounts of shit no matter the circumstance endeared him to UFC fans and supporters. In the end, Holland got his best opportunity and since then the UFC has taken it slow and steady with him. Holland has wins over John Phillips, Gerald Meerschaert and most recently a close decision win over Alessio Di Chirico. Holland's rep as an action fighter is overstated (as is most of his game) but to go 3-1 in the UFC under any circumstances is pretty solid. He's the sort of guy who doesn't like to work too hard theoretically but lacks the middle ground to carry himself beyond that point. Yet he's so gifted, long and determined that he tends to be able to get by doing the bare minimum. Brendan Allen is probably going to give him plenty of opportunities to be offensive if he wants to be but that's entirely up to Holland and his mentality.

12- The last time we saw him, Deron Winn was having a FOTN style war with Eric Spicely on short notice. Winn has a lot of "poor man's DC" about him which is a really unfair comparison but I can't think of a guy that short in a weight class who prioritizes the same arsenal of strikes that he does other than DC. He gets a kind of risky step up in competition with Darren "The Dentist" Stewart. Stewart has a bit of a funky UFC record, he started his run 0-3 and then hit a stride of sorts since then, going 3-1 with the sole loss being a super close split decision to MW prospect Edmen Shahbazyan. Stewart hits really hard and has found some tremendously timely resolve with his takedown defense, creating a sort of fight that should be closer on paper than some folk might realize.

[wittypenguin]

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

This is a broken film which was supposed to be the amazing follow-up to Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane. People who saw the rough version of 2½ hours thought it was a much better film than Citizen Kane in every way possibles with the final scene being a sad but incredible moment in movie-making history, and a scene which Mr Welles never equalled in his career. That version will never be seen. This post is as uneven as the film, but I can’t blame Studio Executives for that.

Brilliant. Simply brilliant. 

George Minafer (played by Tim Holt) is a first class shit head of an asshole. He treats everyone so badly I’m surprised he came back from College with all of his limbs.

Eugene: [0:42:00] I'm not sure George is wrong about automobiles. With all their speed forward they may be a step backward in civilization. May be that they won't add to the beauty of the world or the life of the men's souls, I'm not sure. But automobiles have come and almost all outwards things will be different because of what they bring. They're going to alter war and they're going to alter peace. And I think men's minds are going to be changed in subtle ways because of automobiles. And it may be that George is right. May be that in ten to twenty years from now that if we can see the inward change in men by that time, I shouldn't be able to defend the gasoline engine but agree with George - that automobiles had no business to be invented.

Set in the very earliest of days of the horseless carriage’s development, this is so very prescient. 

After 30 minutes of film setting the circumstances of the world in place, we arrive at George’s Life Changing Event: the death of his father, Wilbur Minafer, who we’ve only heard speak two sentences, I believe (he had more, but they were cut, much to the consternation of a thus-uncredited Don Dillaway, probably). 

Right around the sixty minute mark, however, things get pretty compressed. Isabel Amberson Minafer and George are off to travel the world and never return, go to Paris, then Isabel’s health fails, they do return to town, and then she dies. All in about 10 minutes. That’s a lot of material in so little screen time, and most of it is delivered by people who explain what they saw happen, not us actually seeing it ourselves. 

There are a couple of huge jumps in the time-line which are each covered with about 10 seconds of film and perhaps 20 words of dialogue. Stuff like ‘gosh, isn’t it sad that Billy fell down the well?’ are fine to set up an episode of Lassie, but when you use something akin to that in order to replace five years or more of character development, the viewer certainly feels cheated. Well, I did, anyway. 

Then, at 1:22:00, we see George praying at his mother’s bed, and the VO says he has his comeuppance. Right there, at 1:23:30, this should be the end. 

George Minafer gets hit by an automobile — the infernal thing he said he despised. He now has no income to support his Aunt at all. 

And — Goddamn — the final scene is the purplest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Agnes Moorehead [above] and Tim Holt [below] in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) — — — —

See, originally, the thing was a good 50 minutes longer, but Mr Welles left the film in the hands of his editor, Robert Wise, while he zoomed off to the next project, shooting his ⅔ of a portmanteau documentary film in Brazil called It’s All True, which was to be his 3rd film as stipulated in his contract for RKO. When the studio looked at The Magnificent Ambersons in its rough working length of 50% more than they bargained for, they told Mr Wise to get cutting. So, Mr Wise consulted with Mr Welles just before he left the country, making those few cuts he knew about. The deal was that the studio would pack a Moviola (a film viewer thing used for editing purposes that looks like part of one of the old ‘watch a movie inside a wooden box!’ things at penny arcades and so on), a working print of the film in its extant form, and some editing people, onto a ship or an æroplane to Mr Welles in Brazil. That didn’t happen, because by this point the US had entered WWII and it was nearly impossible for either Mr Wise or an editing assistant (a ‘cutter,’ in cinema parlance) to fly to Mr Welles, or vice versa, owing to travel rationing. A telephone line was set up specifically to aid in consulting with the director (this was 80 years ago, after all), but the story goes that the studio supervisor told to liaise with Mr Welles avoided answering the phone when it rang, specifically to avoid the input, plus a series of written communiques were crumpled up and thrown away without even being read. So, Mr Wise, in consultation with the studio as well as star Joseph Cotten, were forced to start guessing as to how to proceed. He cut a bunch of stuff, then shot some quick coverage to paper over the gaps in the story. The end result is that Mr Welles didn’t speak to Mr Wise for decades, was angry at his long-time friend Mr Cotton for a bit, and this episode probably cemented in the director his life-long distrust of Studio Big-Wigs as nothing but a bunch of meddling bean counters who wouldn’t know a good movie if they got their dicks caught in the sprocket holes of it. 

I like to think that last sentence would have made him laugh. 

The performances of everyone are incredible. Tim Holt shows that he’s not just the western star which he was known as at the time; he’s capable of nuanced and sophisticated characters as well. Agnes Moorehead, as Geiorge’s Aunt Fanny Minafer, is an example of how an actor can make bold, large choices and be entirely believable in a film setting; her ‘mad scene’ is riveting. This film really is the story of these two characters, and how they cope with a changing landscape of financial challenge and circumstances. =Had the film not been gutted, we would have been able to see more of them, and that is the greatest loss to my mind.

On its original release, the film was shown on at least one occasion as a second feature on a double bill with Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost (1942). The second feature. Brother!

Sadly, a reconstruction of the film as it was intended isn’t possible in the way other films of his have been — eg: Touch of Evil — because the footage excised was either destroyed or thrown away. 

[left to right] Richard Bennett, Agnes Moorehead, Tim Holt, and Ray Collins in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) — — — —

To add insult to injury, the Brazilian ‘good will’ documentary aimed at welcoming the South American neighbour into the arms of the US & Allied forces, It’s All True, was never completed: only about ⅓ of its footage survived (probably 200,000ft of Technicolor® nitrate was tossed into the Pacific in the 1960s or ‘70s, and there was much more than that originally), and the stuff that has survived was mostly repurposed in the DesiLu Productions stock film library. So there’s two films in a row that didn’t happen correctly, the second of which didn’t happen at all. There’s a documentary about It’s All True available and it’s worth your attention, as the last ⅓ or so is a reconstruction of the story of 4 guys who sailed on a raft thousands of kilometres to lobby the Brazilian government for basic rights to be extended to people in the outer reaches of the country. It’s only got some sound effects and music, but unlike ‘silent films,’ there are no inter-titles for dialogue. Mr Welles essentially invented a whole new filmmaking technique. 

[left to right] Tim Holt and Agnes Moorehead in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) — — — —

The films of Mr Welles are basically a list of ‘things which didn’t get made at all,’ punctuated by ‘things which weren’t finished’ and ‘things which others messed around with.’ Thankfully there’s a few works which he made and have his vision properly realized. Those are cherished. 

Watching the first hour of this film is the last sort… and then it becomes someone else’s picture. Alas. 

★★★★☆

[sawyer-smith]

September 9th, 2019

Today has been a series of technological mishaps that have each primed me for suicide in their own special way. I have to rant about this, apologies.

It started with my not being able to tell the time upon awaking. I glared at the clock on the microwave. 2 in the afternoon? That can’t be right. Someone had forgotten to clear the timer. A minor issue, but a bad omen of what was to come.

When I arrived at class, I found my internet wasn’t working. I had meant to submit my work for class the night before, but it slipped my mind. This meant I had to send it in before class started, but with the internet on the fritz I was pretty much completely fucked. I would have to plug my computer into the monitor when it came to be my turn to present. Lo and behold, it wasn’t working. Who’d have thunk. I explained the situation to my professor and he was thankfully understanding, but the whole thing was so embarrassing. I looked like an idiot in front of my whole class.

Worst part is, no one else seemed to have issues with their internet. I put in the correct username and password countless times, I tried all sorts of variations, but to no avail.

After class, I went to Target to pick up a few things. A giant pack of toilet paper, some tide pods for laundry later in the day, and the thing that made me regret getting out of bed: a 12 pack of Dr. Pepper. I genuinely don’t know what came over me. I had not gone in planning to buy it, yet here I was. The walk home was a goddamn nightmare. Constant fear that my arms would collapse, and I would drop everything I was carrying. Too fucking heavy.

When I got home, I figured I would do my laundry. I was running low on clothing, so now was as good a time as any. I brought my bag of clothes down to the basement and encountered the row of machines whirring and shaking violently. I had to buy a card that would grant me access to one of the machines. Fair enough. Here’s the thing: you need exactly $5 to get a card. Not in singles, mind you, how on Earth could the machine process 5 singles? Are you insane? No, you need a 5 dollar bill. Anything else and it would spit your money back out at you with disdain.

Alright, so I’ll get some change. No big deal. It’s fine, I’m fine.

I go out and buy a couple snacks from a nearby deli and get $5.23 in change. Fairly simple. I returned to the basement and purchased a card. Success! I brought my clothes over to one of the machines and began to fill it. I closed the door on top and inserted my card. 0 available it said. While it seems fairly obvious to me now, I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. I kept pulling out and reinserting the card like a fucking asshole. The place was filled with people who knew what they were doing and not wigging out.

Eventually I figured it out. I needed to add funds to the card. It seems that buying it doesn’t actually put anything onto the card. 5 dollars gets you the card itself, not 5 dollars worth of credit for the washing machines. Alright, well, I was out of cash at this point. Guess I’ll haul my clothes back upstairs and take care of it when I have some money. 

Onto my next class. I tried to put this all behind me and just not think about anything for a while. I really enjoy my Experimental Game Narratives course, so I figured it would be a nice way to keep my mind off of the horrors of the day. Of course, the monitor wouldn’t work, which had us spending a solid 30 minutes of class trying to figure it out. It felt like a total waste of time. It’s a good thing I like that class.

Afterwards, I figured I should stop by the bank to get some cash for the washing machines. This should be easy, I just go in, set up at the ATM, and retrieve my hard earned dough. Of course the fucking thing doesn’t work. Why would it work? Why would anything work? I try both ATMs in the lobby, nothing. Teller’s desk is closed, so I’m shit outta luck. I decided I would just stop in some convenience store and use the ATM there. Ultimately it wasn’t a huge deal, but it was certainly frustrating.

So, tired and hot, I returned to my room. I just wanted to lie down in an air conditioned space and relax for a little while. I inserted my key card into the handle, and (no points for guessing what happened) I get a blinking yellow light. I had been locked out of my dorm. What a mess. Thankfully it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get my card reprogrammed. Just had to go down to the student help center and have them rejigger it.

This whole saga concluded with me successfully loading the washing machine and getting it to run. I write this now with about 10 minutes left to go in the cycle. Hopefully the dryer decides to work when I load my clothes there.

What did we learn from this? A series of minor inconveniences absolutely sapped my (already quite low) lust for life. I’m worn out, and I just want to eat. Maybe I should have waited to write this once the day was truly over, but I’m just fed up. I feel like such a loser for writing such a long post about all of this shit, but it really got to me. I feel awful. 

All that being said, I love you with all of my heart. Keep on fighting.

[morningsound15]

Supercorp Lena is an alien too AU OR two doctors at the same hospital AU

Supercorp two doctors at the same hospital AU

beep boop beep this is late but here ya go.

1.)

Lena spends every free minute that she isn’t with her patients working tirelessly on developing new tech for her experimental surgical recovery treatments (the most promising of which just entered its preliminary trial stage last month), innovating new designs for medical devices, and trying to streamline her surgical procedures while increasing her success rates. She doesn’t have time for distractions, or deviations from her strict schedule. She doesn’t have time to waste on secondary concerns like relaxation, vacations, dating, making new friends, broadening her social circle, or making changes to her personal life. She can’t afford to let anything get in the way of her aggressive long-term career goals. Not when she’s worked so hard to prove that she’s more than just a pretty face, more than just a privileged trust-fund baby who has had everything in life handed to her, more than just what her last name implies. Not when she’s worked so hard to get to where she is.

It’s cold, and a little ruthless, sure. But it’s what she’s always done — it’s what she’s always had to do. And it’s always the way she’s felt; consistently, without fail.

At least, that used to be true. That’s how she used to feel.

Until she met Kara, that is.

2.)

Lena’s known about Kara Danvers ever since she first showed up at National City General Hospital. She’s the sort of person who’s hard not to notice.

Lena first hears of her from James.

“Have you met the new girl?” he asks her one morning in the break room, completely (and unnecessarily, as far as she’s concerned) distracting her from her reading.

Lena arches an eyebrow in his direction. “You mean the new doctor?” James rolls his eyes. “I haven’t had the pleasure, no.”

“Well, you should. As soon as possible. She is…” his eyes seem to focus on something far-off, and he sighs almost without noticing— “something else.”

“Hmm,” Lena hums rather disinterestedly, flipping through a new patient’s chart. “Is she especially beautiful, or especially annoying?”

James starts, his attention back on her at once. “What?”

“You only have that reaction towards women who you find particularly beautiful or particularly tedious. Which one is she?”

James scoffs, but his attempt at acting insulted is half-hearted at best. When Lena merely looks at him, not saying anything further, he huffs. “Fine. She’s beautiful. And she seems perfectly charming, for the record.”

Lena’s smile has teeth. “Don’t they all?”

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“I don’t need to. She wasn’t hired in my department, therefore she’s of no concern to me.”

“She’s Alex Danvers’ sister.”

That makes her pause. Lena knows Doctor Danvers — she’d even go so far as to say she rather likes Doctor Danvers (which is not an accolade she commonly distributes, for the record). Danvers is smart and accomplished and professional and good at her job — all qualities Lena greatly admires in a person. She hadn’t been aware Doctor Danvers had a sister. She’s not sure why that news is so surprising to learn.

But, eventually, she shakes herself. “Inconsequential,” she finally decides, turning back to her chart.

“I don’t know, Lena. You might have to give this one a chance.”

She doesn’t bother to look up from her reading. “We’ll see.”

.

.

.

.

When she sees Winn later that day in the break room, staring off into space with a dreamy smile on his face, she sighs, and asks, “Doctor Danvers, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” he sighs happily, still staring unseeing out the door, as if longing after something which is no longer there. He seems to understand her question only a few seconds later, and shakes himself a little, drawing back to her. “Er…” he says carefully as he sits up at once, with a slight frown on his face, “the new one, I mean. Not… don’t tell Alex I was acting like that about her. Not that she isn’t pretty! Or, er— beautiful, it’s just…” He swallows thickly. “She’s just so scary.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor Schott,” she reassures him. “Your secret’s safe with me.” And that’s mostly down to the fact that Lena has never been in a position to share more than a few words with the elder Doctor Danvers, and in all such situations their interactions were kept purely professional, but that’s besides the point. As a general rule of thumb, she doesn’t engage in frivolous gossip or rumor-mongering. She considers it beneath her.

Besides, she has no desire to antagonize Doctor Danvers. Doctor Danvers is severe, and serious — something Lena rather admires. The fact that she knows 0 information about her (except, as of this morning, that apparently she has a younger sister) is how she likes her relationships with her colleagues to be: no-nonsense, professional, and completely surface-level.

The lone exception to that rule is her friendship with Sam. And James, she supposes, sort of fits the bill as well. And, now that she’s thinking about it, she does actually know a few key personal details about her favorite surgical assistant, Jess. But that’s neither here nor there. She’s been friends with Sam since university; the fact that they ended up at the same hospital was through no fault of Lena’s own, and it seemed only natural to continue their relationship rather than to go out of her way to burn a bridge she does not have any reason to burn. And she has a rather friendly relationship with James because they went on a few ill-advised dates when she first moved to town; but as soon as Lena realized they would be working together, she ended things, and they’ve been nothing but friendly since. But that’s only because it seemed the most decent thing to do at the time. And as for Jess, well… it’s a good idea for Lena to be able to actually trust those few other people she requires to assist her in effectively doing her job. Jess is one of the few surgical assistants at this hospital that Lena doesn’t actively want to strangle, so knowing her birthday is in March and that she has a nephew she loves to spoil is hardly outside the sphere of appropriate, professional behavior.

The point is, she doesn’t want to know more about the people she works with. As long as they are competent in their work and do not actively interfere with her research, she couldn’t care less what they spend their free time doing.

The sooner everyone gets over this strange obsession they all seem to have with the New Doctor Danvers, frankly, the better Lena’s life is going to be.

3.)

They don’t get the opportunity to speak for real until 3 months after Kara begins working at National City General. At a party, of all things (Lena never goes to parties) — hosted by Sam, which explains why Lena’s been dragged here and also why Kara’s been dragged here. Like something straight out of a Shakespearean plot: Lena is acting as emotional/romantic support for Sam, who is currently on a mission to date Doctor Danvers (the elder Doctor Danvers), which explains why she brought along her own emotional/romantic support in the form of her sister, Kara.

(They don’t find this out until much later, of course. But neither of them is particularly surprised to learn the information.)

They’re left alone together very quickly when their companions decide that their energy is best spent focused on the sole task at hand (essentially: trying to get the other into bed) and Kara and Lena are left to fend for themselves, standing awkwardly across from one another and not knowing quite what to say.

Kara makes the first move.

She sticks out her hand with a wry, nervous grin as her other hand reaches up to adjust her glasses. “Hi,” she says, like they haven’t just been standing here looking at each other for nearly 30 seconds, “it’s Lena, right? I’m Kara. I work in Peds.”

And Lena knows that — of course she does — but it still doesn’t stop her from wanting to roll her eyes because of course this woman who practically radiates sunshine and rainbows would work in Pediatrics. She looks like the sort of woman who volunteers at animal shelters on the weekends, who goes out of her way to help little old ladies cross the street. She looks so wholesome, so good that she should probably be on the cover of some magazine somewhere. It makes Lena feels more than a little uncomfortable.

“Yes,” she says, shaking Kara’s hand firmly but withdrawing quickly, “I know who you are.”

Kara smiles, and if Lena’s not mistaken she almost looks a little relieved that Lena’s said something she can respond to neutrally. “And I mean, I know who you are, obviously. I just thought it might be nicer to officially introduce myself.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow. “Rumors travel fast, I see.”

“Rumors?” Kara frowns.

“That’s how you know who I am.” Because it’s obvious, to Lena. That’s how everyone knows who she is. After her brother was caught embezzling millions of dollars from their family hospital (and after he subsequently fled to some undisclosed foreign country, from which he has yet to emerge) the Luthor name — once so distinguished and influential in quite a few specific social spheres — had been almost completely blacklisted from all things related to the medical field. Everyone who was practicing medicine at the time heard about the scandal.

Lena is still dealing with the repercussions.

It’s not a question, really; more a statement of fact. Of course Kara knows who she is because of the scandal, because of the rumors that still follow her around (that she’s just like her brother, that she was secretly in on his scheme and just hadn’t been caught, that she’s secretly helping him evade detection by government officials). That’s how everyone knows her.

It’s not a question, not really, nut Kara is still quick to respond to it. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head very rapidly back-and-forth. “Oh, no! I… I read your paper on the, um… flexible micro-stapled surgical bandages you have in development?” Lena blinks, and hopes her shock is not evident on her face. Kara continues on like she doesn’t even notice the completely unexpected shift in Lena’s body language and attitude. “It’s super interesting stuff. I’d love to get my hands on a few, if you have any prototypes lying around. I’m always looking for ways to reduce my patients’ pain after operation.” She smiles, rather sheepishly, and Lena feels her heart rate pick up, unbidden. Even Sam doesn’t read her papers, and she’s Lena’s best friend in the entire world.

“Sorry,” Kara says when a few seconds tick by and Lena has yet to respond. She rubs at the back of her neck, “Sorry, I have a tendency to babble, sometimes. And I don’t mean to awkwardly fangirl around you. I just… I’ve been following your work for a while, and I think you’re really brilliant. That’s part of the reason why I wanted to practice here. Well… my sister’s here, which was the bigger reason, but also because… who wouldn’t jump at the chance to work with Lena Luthor, y’know?”

Lena doesn’t, in fact, know at all what Kara means.

She can’t help but be impossibly flattered either way. (She’s never pretended to be above vanity.)

It’s only when she arrives home, many happy hours later — after a bit too much wine and a breathless and blushing Kara scribbling her phone number on a spare sheet of scrap paper so that Lena can call to schedule an appointment to discuss how Kara’s research may intersect with her own — that Lena begins to realize she may be in more than a little trouble, here; more than she initially realized.

This is not in line with her plans at all.

4.)

Still, she somehow winds up calling her. And one meeting turns into two, and then two meetings turn into a meeting over morning coffee, which then turns into simply getting coffee, which then turns into lunches and occasional dinners and Lena having an open invitation to Kara’s weekly Game Night (in which she, much to Lena’s surprise, invites almost exclusively the people from work who Lena can semi-tolerate. As if she’s curated this event simply for Lena’s enjoyment).

And somehow, quite without meaning to (and quite against her better judgment), she becomes friends with Kara Danvers. Not work-friends (like Jess) or professionally-respectful-colleagues (like Alex), but full-on friends. Lena comes to expect Kara’s presence in her life more than Sam’s, even (which seems to work out well for all parties involved, since Sam’s attention more and more seems to be diverted by Kara’s sister). She spends more nights out than she has since college, more time drinking with the people she’s worked with for the past several years but never bothered getting to know, more time idly chit-chatting over meals rather than spending her time doing what she used to do (craming down any food she possibly could while reading/researching/writing/answering emails).

Bizarrely, she almost doesn’t mind. She barely even thinks about it, really; barely even registers any amount of anxiety or discomfort when she thinks about the work she’s missing (she really expected this whole situation to make her so much more anxious, knowing all the opportunities she’s missing to get ahead on her research or experiment with new designs).

That’s how she finds herself in the Pediatric Ward one day, late into the Fall, about four months after that fateful day she met Kara Danvers and seemingly simultaneously flipped her life on its head.

Lena doesn’t have much occasion to be down in this end of the hospital. Since children aren’t her specialty, she’s rarely called on to treat them, and since most everyone in the hospital understands her general discomfort when faced with anyone who cannot hold an intellectual conversation for an extended period of time, she’s rarely called on to even consult for other doctors in the Peds department. This doesn’t bother her, generally; she doesn’t dislike children, not by any stretch of the imagination, she just doesn’t particularly understand them, and she feels nothing but relief whenever she’s allowed to avoid embarrassing herself around them.

But she’s meant to be meeting Kara for lunch, and it’s now nearing 12:30 and Kara still hasn’t made an appearance. Lena only goes down to check on her, to make sure that Kara hasn’t gotten tied up in some impossible case or some extraordinarily-demanding patient. (She absolutely does not come down because she has this burning curiosity to see Kara in action — something she has not been able to do, not in the few months of their friendship. That is absolutely not the reason.)

So imagine her surprise when she enters the Pediatric Ward and is immediately confronted by one Kara Danvers, standing in front of a gaggle of screaming children, decked out head-to-toe in the most shockingly well-made superhero outfit Lena has ever seen.

She stops immediately, one hand on the door, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she isn’t seeing things.

But no, her eyes are not playing a trick on her — that’s Kara, up there, with her hair uncharacteristically down and her glasses uncharacteristically off her face. Her outfit is a mix of royal blue and red and yellow, the top long-sleeved and laying tight across Kara’s torso, the bottom a red skirt that falls down to just above her knees. A pair of bright red boots (Good Lord, Lena thinks as she feels her heart stutter in her chest) lie snug around her calves. A red cape is attached to her shoulders, and it blows out behind her every time she turns or steps, like it has a mind of its own.

There’s a red-and-yellow “S” embossed on her chest. Lena wants to run her fingers over that letter, trail her fingertips along the stitching. She wants to know what that suit feels like under the pads of her fingers, wants to know what Kara might do if she were to grab her by the neck of it and pull her in and—

Kara has been picking her way across the room over the course of the last few minutes, waving to children and parents alike and hugging the little bodies that crush up against her legs, her stomach. She’s drifted right next to where Lena is standing, leaning against the wall and trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible so as to achieve the full, un-distracted effect of Kara Danvers In Action.

But she’s so close now, that Lena finds she can’t can’t help herself. She clears her throat, rather loudly. “Nice costume.”

“Lena!” Kara straightens at once. She clearly hadn’t noticed her before. “Hi! What are you… what are you doing here?”

“We were meant to get lunch. I was worried when you didn’t show.”

Kara groans and slaps her forehead. “Oh no, was that today? I’m so sorry. I forgot I double-booked.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Lena runs her eyes up and down Kara’s body, and tries very hard to hide the fact that she’s only just shy of openly-leering. “You look nice.”

“The kids don’t know it’s me,” Kara explains haltingly, looking a little flustered. “They can’t recognize me in this getup. So once a month I put it on and… come down here to entertain them.”

Lena has to laugh at that. “What, you take down your hair and take off your glasses and you’re suddenly a new person?”

Kara shrugs, but one side of her mouth is pulled higher than the other, and her cheeks seem a little pink. Lena almost can’t believe this woman is real. “It works in the movies.”

Just then, a little hand tugs on Kara’s cape (God, she’s wearing a cape. Lena might just swoon). At once, it’s like Kara becomes someone else. Her face sets and her eyes soften and she bends down at once, bringing herself face-to-face with a young girl — no more than 5 or 6 — who’s dressed in a set of pajamas and slippers, a small IV poking out of her hand.

“Hi, sweetie,” Kara says to her softly, and Lena feels her knees actually go weak at the kindness in her voice. “What can I do for you?”

The girl simply stares at Kara wide-eyed, sucking on her thumb frantically.

“Sorry,” the girl’s mother explains, “she just loves you. One of the nurses told her you can fly, and she can’t stop talking about it. But she’s a little shy.” She puts her hand on top of her daughter’s head. Kara doesn’t take her eyes off of the little girl, smiling that million-dollar smile the entire time. “Would you mind if I got a picture? It would really make her day.”

“Of course.” Kara immediately turns so that she’s kneeling next to the girl. She puts her arm around the girl’s shoulders, and she immediately beams. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Kara whispers conspiratorially.

“Lily,” the girl whispers back, and Kara’s smile gets impossibly wider.

“You’re a very brave girl, Lily. Just like a superhero.”

The girl’s eyes grow wide and glassy, and she beams at Kara. Lily’s mother takes a few pictures of them in various poses, before thanking Kara profusely and leading her daughter away by the hand. Kara waves at her the entire way down the hallway, before seeming to remember that Lena is standing there waiting for her.

Not that Lena minds, of course. She doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Kara pulls an apologetic face. “Sorry about all that.”

Lena shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You’re quite the hero around here, aren’t you, Supergirl?”

Kara flushes. “I think you mean Superwoman.”

“I like ‘Supergirl’ more.”

“Why?”

Lena shrugs. She brings her hand up to twist one strand of Kara’s hair around her finger. She’s never seen it down before. It’s mesmerizing. “Fits more with the persona, I think.”

Kara laughs and crosses her arms over her chest, clutching her biceps tightly like she’s a little embarrassed for Lena to see her like this. God, her muscles. Does she live at the gym? “You know… the kids get a kick out of it,” she says, and Lena’s not sure if she’s purposefully ignoring the way Lena’s eyes are fixed on her shoulders, like she can’t pull them away, or if she legitimately doesn’t notice.

Knowing Kara, probably the latter.

Kara clears her throat, but she doesn’t back away from her, which is promising. “Um… I’m sorry about missing lunch. If you’ve still got some time…?” Lena nods. “Okay, great. Just let me get changed out of— just let me get changed. I can be ready in 10.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

5.)

“Would you like to get dinner?” Kara asks her one day, out of the blue, and it takes Lena far longer than it should for her to realize what, exactly, Kara is asking her.

At first, she simply smiles. “Sure. My shift ends at 8. Shall I invite Sam and James, too?”

“Oh, I…” Kara clears her throat and shifts on her feet. She’s wearing a pair of bright purple scrubs today, which Lena finds helplessly endearing. The fact that she’s shifting in front of Lena, clearly nervous, only adds to that feeling. “I was sort of hoping it could be just the two of us.”

Lena’s smile slips into a frown. “Is something wrong? Something you need to talk about?”

“No!” Kara is quick to reassure. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I meant it more as a, um, date… thing.”

“A… date-thing?”

“If you want?”

Lena has to bite her lip to stop herself from full-on beaming. “Yes,” she demures, her chin tilted down towards her chest, her heart beating so quickly in her chest it threatens to beat straight out of it, “I’d like that.”

Kara exhales, a tiny puff of air she seems unaware she was holding. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Kara,” Lena says with a laugh, “I’d like that very much.”

Send me an AU and I’ll give you 5 headcanons for it

[64-bitsims]

Okay so I’ve been trying to find a job and been having no luck bc small town/no jobs/no reliable transportation of my own and i literally would have to get two minimum wage jobs to pay off my student loans/bills bc capitalist america woohoo.

So my mom knows this girl who works at one of the agencies and I’ve gone to a few interviews... but like.... this girl doesnt respond to my emails or talk to me directly, only through my mom. Its fucking weird and I don’t want to go through her for this reason-- for example, I went to an interview i really wanted the job for and I tried to get in touch w her to get an update (since the interview was in december and they werent selecting anyone until jan) through both the entire building email and her personal business email both multiple times and she never responded. This wasn’t the first time she didn’t respond to me, and the only time she did follow she told my mom but not me that I wasn’t selected. So I’m at the level of just saying fuck this bitch bc that seems disrespectful and weird af to me, but anyways. I’ll call her C just to make following this easier.

They had a one day opening for a receptionist at a shop nearby and C messaged my mom (not me personally) to ask if i wanted it. I agree because I need the fucking money and I cant say no to a job to my mom bc shes already on my back, plus C wont have the chance to ghost me after an interview this time like all of the other times. C told her that I just needed to bring in my IDs and my bank info if I wanted to set up direct deposit (which Im not worried about bc its one day and i have one of those online bank apps so I just take the pic of my check and it automatically deposits) either today or tomorrow bc I’d be working friday. So I go in to give C my IDs etc, and the girl who ended up helping me (who wasn’t C even though she was supposed to do it bc thats what they do there, you work with one person so they get all the bonuses and stuff the company offers for placements.) she wouldn’t come out of her office to do it, so this receptionist had to do it and had no idea who i was or what i was there for.

So the receptionist takes my IDs and makes copies or whatever for their information and has me watch this training video on safety, then she says “do you have time to do a drug test today.” So i pause and responded, “my mom has a lot of things on today, she brought me here while she was doing other errands so I’d need to ask if we could stop somewhere to do that. I wasn’t told that I needed to get that done so I wasn’t prepared to do so.” (here most companies make you go to an urgent care to get it done and my mom was going into town so it wouldnt be impossible, but i was supposed to babysit for her while she went so we’d have to restructure the day-- not a big deal but i never agree to anything without talking to her first bc she can be a kraken.) The girl helping me said, “well you just have to get it done before we can set up your direct deposit,” and i said oh well I just want the paper check anyways bc my bank is through an app and id just take the pic of the check to deposit it. she looked at me weird and said “you have to have direct deposit set up within two weeks of starting work” and i was like ?????? I’m only working for a day??????????? and then she realized what I was there for and like... because C has this issue with talking to me herself for whatever fucking reason this other girl seriously thought i was trying to get out of taking a drug test or some shit, and you could tell that was what she was thinking.. And then to top it off when I left she said “have a good day tomorrow” so I had to go look at the messages my mom sent me between her and C to make sure it was FRIDAY LIKE THEY SAID ORIGINALLY and not tomorrow... like i fucking hated C before this but she seriously made me look like a druggie fool to this rando because she a) wouldnt come out and do her job herself and b) didnt tell this girl I was coming in and what i needed and that she was going to happen to be busy at that point so she’d have to do it.

like. maybe im making a big deal about it but i was livid lol. 0/10 would not use again.

[sweetpoyzin-plays]

It’s that time again, friends!  A newish month means new bullet journal spreads!  Let’s get right to it!

So again, we’ve got some lame photos in here because I was traveling the first week of April (hence why this is also posted on the 12th and not the 1st — oops) so everything was done in a hurry.  I mean, just last night I filled in my bills tracker so that’s where my life is at this month.

March Recap

March went mostly well.  The new meal tracker was pretty much a win and helped me see that I wasn’t eating enough snacks during the day.  Also, I was pretty lazy some days and didn’t even bother filling it in so it also helped me figure out that I’m still pretty much a lazy bum when it comes to using my Bujo every day.

My TV/Movie tracker was maybe not my best idea.  I don’t watch that much TV so I don’t really know what I was thinking.  Instead it was more of a tracker for TV shows that I already knew I liked (Golden Girls, anyone?) and ended up being mostly useless.  That page got scrapped this month but more on that later.

Finally, the book tracker.  Ugh.  That was a fail so I simplified that this month, too.

Ok, on to the April update…

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Cover

Monthly

Goals

Habits

Budgeting

Meals

Meals

Self Care Bingo!

Books

Gratitude/Line a Day

Currently

Wins/Losses

Theme:

I discovered I had a bunch of washi and stickers that related to rain so this month is “April Showers” themed.  Stickers are from all over the place so they are hard to credit.  Please drop a comment if you want to know a specific one.  The little birds and rain clouds are from Michael’s and come from a $1 sticker pack they sold last year.  There’s lots of Happy Planner in there as well!

Spreads:

April starts off the same way as my other bujos: cover page, monthly, goals, and habits.  I wanted to try something new this month to give me a more holistic view of what’s going on in my life.

Being out of work since November, I’ve really had to crack down on my spending.  The budget and spending trackers I introduced last month were amazing.  They did help curb my sticker addiction but I realized I still buy waaaaaaay too much crap I don’t need.  They are back again this month as a reminder that I really don’t need that much craft paper (said no one ever)..

I’m still working on using my meal planner religiously.  So far I’ve already forgotten most of this week.  I’m off to a rocking start.

Because my Netflix/Hulu spread bombed and I was recently diagnosed with PTSD (more on that another time), I added a “Self-Care Bingo” spread to the mix.  I’m so bad at taking care of me, ya’ll.  Yet I regularly speak about the importance of self-care to others.  So I’m upping my game.  I haven’t quite figured out what my Bingo prize will be but I’m pretty sure it will be awesome (or maybe it will just be less stress which is also awesome).

My reading spread last month was…well, ambitious.  Was I ever going to read a bazillion books in a month?  No.  I simplified this month to make me feel less anxious about not reading all the books.  I also removed the section for tracking followers because that was far too tedious for my tiny time schedule.

Then we get back into my “normal” spreads.  I combined my Line A Day and Gratitude spreads into one journaling page.  I upped my creativity on my Currently recap by hand-drawing that sucker (there’s something to be said of the printable though).  Finally, my Wins/Losses page finishes the tracking spreads and we head into my weeklies and dailies.

Final Thoughts:

I’m not skilled at using my journal daily.  MUST GET BETTER!

Supplies for March:

Pilot Precise V5 Deco Collection Rolling Ball Pens

Pilot FriXion Ball Slim Retractable

Craft Smith™ Wonton In A Million™ Sticker Book, Budget 1

Craft Smith™ Sweet Kawaii Design™ Sticker Book, Home Life

Zebra Pen Mildliner

First of the Month BuJo Update: April 2019 It's that time again, friends!  A newish month means new bullet journal spreads!  Let's get right to it!

[treehoes]

Ok so I saw Hamilton today (4-4-18) on broadway and here’s like a lil review of how amazing it was

•Alexander Hamilton- I was going through so much shock that i was actually there I don’t remember much but the placements of all the characters during the “me? I _____ him” was spot on

•Aaron Burr Sir- The guy playing burr made burr so sarcastic it was great

•My Shot- This is probably my least favorite song but like the bros™️ were hitting the table with cups and their fists and it was so cool

•The Story of Tonight -Very low key bros being bros drinkin

•The Schuyler Sisters- The “and Peggy” was so like hey what about me it was great. Also those girls are phenomenal like wish I was half as talented

•Farmer Refuted-I’m pretty sure thayne Jasperson was the og Samuel seabury and he’s on point like Hamilton was all up in his face and he just pushed ham away and moved his box in front of him

•You’ll Be Back- Ok so king George was a great singer but he sang kinda annoyingly and I thought that really portrayed king George

•right hand man- G-wash was so great honestly and the ensemble in this song was so awesome and on point

•A winters ball- Reliable with the LADIES

•helpless- Lexi Lawson is very different from Phillipa soo but she’s so talented and absolutely killed it also Hercules as the flower girl was the best creative decision ever

•satisfied- Um ok so like actually shook Mandy fricking Gonzales is so talented like at the part at the end she not only killed it, she stabbed it 27 times and drop kicked it to mars like it was a mouth drop open and they redid everything from helpless perfectly 11/10 one of the best parts

•the story of tonight reprise- Drunk Lauren’s is the best

•wait for it- Ok home slices you know how much I went off on how good satisfied was well, this was 100 times better. Burr was better than Leslie Odom by a lot he was the best in the show

•stay alive-There were British soldiers in the background it was cool also Charles Lee was funny cuz he’s a general WEEEE

•10 duel commandments-Laurens, who has just shot someone: fuck ya I just shot that bitch fuck him.

Me: I’m so proud of you

•meet me inside- Ham: im not your son

G-wash: that sound fake but ok

•that would be enough-Again, Lexi Lawson slayed as eliza like she was pregnant and still killing it

•guns and ships- Lafayette was mega fast like I know all the words to that song and I could barely understand what he was saying but he was still great

•history has its eyes on you- G-wash gave ham a sword and when he put it in the holder it made such a nice noise

•Yorktown- I love big group numbers like this the choreography was on point. Right before herc entered they were waving redcoats and he burst through them and it was awesome

•what comes next-King George went im so blue and all the lights turned blue I just really like that part

•dear theodosia-This is my favorite song on the soundtrack and I wish they did a bit more with it onstage cuz they kinda just stood and sat and that was it

•the part where Laurens dies that I can’t remember the name of- Ok this was so sad but herc and Lafayette were up on the top part with the same letter that eliza was reading to ham and I didn’t know that they did that and it made the scene a lot more sad

•non stop- Ham is so extra I love it. They had chairs to represent ham, john jay and Madison and they all faced backwards and when John jay got sick after writing five they flipped his chair around and they took away Madison’s chair when he only did 29 and Hamilton was sitting in the third chair and I just really liked the way they did that. Also when ham goes to burr in the middle of the night there’s a light that makes it look like burr is standing in a doorway and I just really liked that lil detail also non stop is the song that got me and my friend that i went with into Hamilton so it has a special place in my heart

•intermission- Umm pretty boring actually, 15 minutes of random dudes coming on and off stage making sure everything is ok, no singing or dancing 0/10 but here’s a photo of me at intermission

•what’d I miss- Ok so at the start of this, ensemble came out from different places and one of them came from the orchestra hole and I thought that was hilarious also this is 10x better on stage than it is on the soundtrack the ensemble was all on point doin their thing

•cabinet battle one- There was a mic drop and that’s all I wanted from this song and I got it

•take a break- Ok so Philip was great in this he was so nervous doing his poem and eliza was beatboxing like the true queen she is. And the beginning part made great use of the circle thing on the stage like ham was facing back when Philip and Eliza sang and then it circled him to the front and Philip and eliza to face the back I loved it

•say no to this- Spoiler, Hamilton didn’t say no. Also James Reynolds had a southern accent and I thought it was so funny

•the room where it happens- I said it once I’ll say it again burr was phenomenal like his lil dance was awesome this song blew me the fuck away

•Schuyler defeated- Idk what to say about this one except for I liked that Philip and eliza were on the balcony thing off to stage left

•cabinet battle 2- I love that these are rap battle but also epic rap battles of history is literally this cuz it’s a musical about history also when Madison said France it was so small it made it more funny

•Washington on your side- When they go OH the lights went big on the floor it was cool. Also “look at the bill of rights, which I wrote” I always thought Jefferson said which I wrote so since I started listening to Hamilton, I’ve had three tests/quizzes with a question on who wrote the constitution and the bill of rights and I always put Jefferson cuz of this line and I always got it wrong so fuck you hamilton

•one last time- I cried, g-wash was so good at the end of this song I can’t I want to hear him sing this every day

•I know him- When the lady whispered in his ear he was like what cuz like john Adams? That’s short bitch?

•the adams administration- Ham drops a stack of papers from the balcony and it hits the ground on a big beat and it was soo cool

•we know- Hamilton spills his soul out and Jefferson burr and Madison are like :o

•hurricane- I never really liked this song too much but The ham dude did it so amazing and the lighting looked like water and hurricanish

•the Reynolds pamphlet- Ok king George is in this and it’s the funniest thing ever cuz he’s all like I told you that you guys would suck and look! A very upper person had an affair

•burn- I’ve seen bootlegs of this song so many times but there’s nothing like seeing it onstage cuz it goes black at the end and all you can see is the fire from her lantern it’s beautiful

•blow us all away- I love Philips character cuz he’s such a kid and he’s great and talks a little fast

•stay alive reprise- I cried real hard during this, 11/10 death, would cry about again

•its quiet uptown- So sad lots of crying from the big tough looking guy sitting next to me. I really like how angelica narrates it I think that’s cute

•election of 1800- Ham: sad cuz of sons death

Everyone, chanting: choose you Bitch we’re incapable of doing it ourselves

But Jefferson did an I win dance when he was endorsed and burr was like wtf bro guess i gotta kill you now

•your obedient servant- When Hamilton writes a letter to burr it was 5 pages long and they had a different person deliver each page and the last girl had two and was doing a little dance to deliver them it was great

•best of wives best of women- Look at ham writing his note to next of kin, love your wife more she’s Lexi Lawson for Christ’s sake

•the world was wide enough- I cried even tho I knew he was gonna die. Hams part where there was no music was so dramatic and g-wash came on and hams Mom and Laurens/Philip it was so sad I loved it

•who lives who dies who tells your story

Thinking about this is gonna make me cry again but Hamilton was not in this number at all and I thought that was great cuz he’s dead but honestly fabulous way to end the show I’m shoooook

All in all it was a beautiful show, much more than I could have ever asked for. We had terrible seats but that’s ok cuz it’s Hamilton. The lighting and dancing and blocking was phenomenal I never really notice anything like that when I see shows but it was so good I talked about the lighting for 5 minutes straight and I don’t know jack shit about lighting

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. i decided to stop and read for a while. i finished my drawing goal for the day, but i won’t have the scene ready for tomorrow evening. 

i’m about out of posts for the comic.

maybe i’ll try to finish one more panel before bed... i dunno.

umm anyway i got up this morning kinda late, like 9:30, even though i was awake for a long time beforehand. i was doing something on the computer... i don’t remember what it was. my tumblr activity feed is broken again which is really aggravating, since i can’t see if people liked my comic posts recently unless i check the actual posts. makes it feel more quiet. that’s what i need right now. definitely. silence. a flat “0 notes” line.

i considered putting my halloween story into the writing club’s google drive to see if i could get feedback on it, but raul basically said that the only person who leaves comments on others’ work is me.

i tried talking to one of my acquaintances about his story when he said something about it in a discord channel. he was cagey about it, which is fine of course. he left without asking about my project or progress or anything. i got up and brushed my teeth. i realized it was 11 already so i made an early lunch.

lunch made me super ill and exhausted so i went back to bed for an hour. i putted around on the internet for an hour watching a video while refreshing my tumblr and deviantart pages. nothing came up to comment on. i felt bored and irritated so i started doing homework just to have something to, like, interact with and pass the time. i got caught up on my class notes, which is a relief. i would have done some grading but i saw my comic scene sitting on my desk and realized i couldn’t neglect it for yet another day. i made an oven dinner and watched another video in the meantime and ate miserably trying to get my thoughts in order, and then wrote that other post and then got to work. mbmbam cheered me up a little bit. i finished four panels. six and a half left. i could finish that loose half a panel if i gave it another 10 minutes... 

eventually i started feeling bland and gunky so i put the sketchbook to the side and read a fanfiction for a while. but it feels like... i’m reading it to complete it, you know? like i just want it off my bookmarks bar / to-do checklist. normally i’d be all over the fandom and topic but it’s hard to feel engaged right now. it was like that with my drawing, too. i’m really happy with the paper quality and the way the panels are coming out- something about the pencil work just looks really, really good in a way my other, ancient sketchbook hadn’t been able to hold. i wish i could feel happier about that. or, more consistently happy? i wish the happiness would last longer than the exact amount of time i’m looking at the page? yeah, that.

and the scene itself is even not upsetting, for once. i’m happy while i’m drawing it, but i dunno. something seems to wear off after the first 30 minutes and it’s hard to stick with it. it’s not really artist’s block... i know exactly what i want to be drawing and how to do it. it’s just that i can’t enjoy anything right now and it all feels mushy and gray. 

(kind of like the actual art of the comic, dohohoho)

i did feel less lonely though, getting to work and listening to a podcast and putting together all the trappings of productivity. reading distracted me for a while, even if feeling like this was also distracting me from the reading. 

tomorrow i’ve got an extra em lecture to attend, as review before the midterm. i’m not gonna skip it, but i am just... exhausted. i gotta finish an entire assignment for my other class before wednesday, and the midterm is also on wednesday, and... gaahhhhhhd. i’ve got three missing em assignments, and each of those takes like 6-8 hours. (i’ve got sooz’s help, so it will take less, but the learning still has to get done...) grading has to happen somewhere in there, and finishing the scene, and trying to move this entire comic delay trainwreck back on schedule with my bare hands. 

i don’t even want to talk to anyone anymore at this point. harrison is actively exhausting, i just haven’t really felt a connection with tia or harith or any of the new students... everyone else seems just too hard to reach out to. it’s hard to want to talk to closer friends because i get so caught up in “is this conversation balanced? did i ask about their day? i need to catch up with them first. oh they have something to talk about. it’s way easier to listen to their story about their trip and look at pictures. oh now the conversation’s over i guess.” (or whatever. i’m not talking about anyone specific. i’m not mad or upset or anything. i’m just so tired.)

i’m choking up 200 dollars at my therapist appointment on tuesday, to cover my deductible... at least i’ve got my budget fairly balanced now. i gotta get snoopy to the vet in two weeks which will put a hole in my pocket. and i also need to start actively complaining to my mother’s insurance company about the reimbursement they never gave me despite the doctor’s office filing the paperwork for me. that’ll cover snoopy’s bills. 

everyone at the office seems to think i’m, like, super nice or work hard or whatever. i’m so tired all the time. i did, at least, today, keep my screaming entirely internal. i think the most noise i accidentally made was a strangled groan when i had to get up after sitting in the comfortable chair to too long transcribing class notes. 

but! sitting curled up in the chair like that hurts an entirely different part of my back than sitting at the desk, so it gives my shoulders a chance to rest. 

what i mean is, i didn’t go off at anyone. i got kind of curt with harrison and i said something unnecessarily gloomy to asher but i kept it... restrained, more than usual. i think. just wait for it to go away. no one can help anyway. no one would help. no one would know to help, that i need help, or how to help.

i’m so tired! i’m too tired to do all my stretches every single day! i’m too tired to reframe every bad thought as it comes up! i’m too tired to challenge every single bit of the endless tsunami of negative self talk all day every day! i’m too tired to do the dishes after every meal! or even every day! i’m too tired to go to bed on time every single night and do the breathing exercises and try to force myself asleep. i’m too tired to get up and comfort myself after the scalding nightmares until i can sleep again. 

i’m too tired to do any of the things that would make me have enough energy to do them. and i’m too injured to go for a bike ride and enjoy the cold front that blew through town and lowered the temperature by like 15 degrees. the best i can do is keep my window open and try to ignore the downtown noises. 

maybe i could go stand in the public pool. if i can get myself up early enough. that cheers me up a little bit, sometimes, not always. 

i wish i had someone with me to do those things. but i don’t. and no one’s gonna do them but me. so i gotta also devote energy to being my own cheerleader while i don’t even have the energy to not be my own worst enemy. 

“nothing better to do.” that’s all the motivation i’ve ever had. sometimes it’s enough. but not always. sometimes i’m too tired. gotta lay on the floor and make whiny noises and stare off into space for five hours.

then i gotta pick myself up and get moving again. no one’s gonna pick me up. can’t lay there forever. i don’t like laying there doing nothing.