#Ive been super busy with art fight but honestly doing it has pushed me to really improve I think!!

[jellyfishdoodler]

I'm very late I am so sorry OTL

BUT OUR JACKIEBOY IS 8!!! THAT'S A WHOLE ASS SECOND GRADER!! LOOKIT HIM GO!!!

[antiloreolympus]

7 Anti LO Asks

1. does ... does anyone on the LO art team know anatomy? why does daphne look like that? (also im p sure the flower petal hair idea was stolen from punderworld and/or hades game, because all flower nymphs before in LO never had that feature but now do?)

2. Weird thing but Daphne was/is a health it. She runs, is a yoga teacher, and probably more since she has a lot we “don’t expect” yet Apollo is just following behind her, like not flying not some weird god power, just chasing after her as she runs from him. Sure the dress might slow her down but she tied it. I feel like she could have gotten farther faster.

3. i kinda get what LO is doing by trying to make Demeter "redeemable" by making her a victim too, but that shouldn't be via depowering her so much to where Zeus and Leto and even Hecate can push her around, but also we still saw Demeter was emotionally and mentally abusive to Persephone, that doesn't just go away over the span of a stressful month. I get LO is doing this so Persephone isn't stuck with an abusive mom half the year, but this is the worst possible way to do it.

4. I honestly hate Apollo’s character in lo.  He’s not a fun villain or a villain to root for. He’s not even a villain I love to hate.  Apollo’s motivations are barely even explained.  His character makes me so uncomfortable and makes reading lo harder than usual.

5. the only two times ive seen a depiction of hades running a business like LO it was HADES and Hadestown, and the former made sure to show Hades paid everyone and have them benefits like time off, and the latter was about how capitalism is a cruel and unjust system. Meanwhile LO is like "slavery is good, actually", like ...

6. I used to really love Lore Olympus - to the point where I would argue with the anti's to leave the comic alone. I'm Greek, and I hate the Percy Jackson series with a passion and I think I clung onto LO as the closest thing to what a non-Greek could produce that was actually pretty good.

And to be honest, season 1 wasn't that bad at all! There were a few funky pacing issues, and some things that needed an explanation (why Apollo was entitled, why Demeter kept Persephone hidden, a bit more on why Hades is considered a bad person, ext.) But I just interpreted that these things would come with time. After all, it's a series.

But then, season 2 actually came out. This is when I started to notice that the webtoon, even in season 1, had a ton of bad writing.

Apollo is cartoonishly and unreasonably evil. He has no nuance to him, like the other gods and goddesses. In Greek mythology, everyone did shitty things, so I guess I expected a bit more nuance to his character since Smythe had given this to her other villain-like characters - like Minthe, Zeus, even Chronos was hinted at having some emotional issues. Yet Apollo comes in and the only thing we know is that he could be being pushed by his mother - but we don't really see his side of the story - and if anyone tries to bring this up it immediately gets put down as "You're a r@pe apologist!" No, I just need a bit more consistency - you can't give Minthe a reason as to why she does what she does, make Zeus nuanced, but then treat this other character like the devil himself - especially when this God is such an important part of Greek culture and mythology.

Smythe's Demeter has become a joke. How is it, the Goddess that was once referred to some ancient Greeks as Mother Earth herself, a powerful Chthonic Goddess along with her daughters Persephone and the mysterious Despoina, was one of the most important Goddesses to date, is not a Fertility Goddess and is easily captured? I mean, ok, Leto was indeed a Titan of Night/Light of Day and considered to be one of Zeus's brides; but Smythe didn't even bother showing us the Goddesses fighting or interacting! There was no struggle at all?! On top of that, she is a perfectionist that is considered overbearing and snobbish - I don't understand how Demeter can be shown as strong and even threatening in season 1 and was even hinted at having a history with Zeus and Hades is now just....a character trope?

Why is Persephone being written as a Mary Sue? I never thought I would have to bring this word up in the Lord's year of 2021, but here we are. Persephone has too many men after her or has shown a slight interest (Hades, Ares, Apollo, Hermes, Hephaestus, and possibly Chronos? Seriously?) Like, I know that in *one* story it was mentioned that those Gods mentioned offered her wedding gifts, but Demeter turned them away- but they weren't all going after her at once. Demeter's fertility Goddess title was obviously taken from her (among other Goddesses) to make Persephone the super special one. And now her Act of Wrath is being downplayed and Zeus is being villainized for wanting to convict her...I honestly stopped feeling sorry for her. I'm at the point where I want Zeus to give her to Apollo haha.

Hades's character is inconsistent - first, he's portrayed as a 'scoundrel' CEO type that people fear - one that literally rips someone's eye out and forces the dead to pay to get into the afterlife- and then he's portrayed as a gentle and loving man? These two character types do not flow together smoothly, and Smythe has made little to no effort to harmonize them.

When I presented these criticisms to the recent fast pass chapter - I was attacked. More than 10 dislikes and fans telling me that I need to stop reading and that saying that Demeter and Apollo are badly written is me missing the point of the story. The fandom has also become incredibly toxic, and I'm ashamed to say that I even defended this comic. 

7. id be so mad if i spent years reading this comic only for them to get together off screen. i really hope rachel isnt pulling that because as much as the fans are annoying, they deserve to actually see what they've been waiting and paying for, not have it all happen off screen and rushed.

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

Hiya! I was debating on whether or not to ask you this, considering that you're probably busy with valentine and other matchup asks, but here it goes. I was wondering if you can match me up with a AOT male, taller then me (I'm 5'5 lol). If that's possible? Here I go-(I'm sorry if this is long!)

✨I have blue/greenish eyes, and red dyed hair (I put this last, idk know why-)

✨I'm an aquarius and honestly, I truly live up to my sign. I'm a Ambivert cause even though I love hanging out with my friends and get along with them, there are times where I just need to get out and be alone for a bit and just let out everything in me.

✨for my personality, I got a turbulent advocate, INFJ-T (I don't know if that helps-) I'm usually quiet and shy around new people, and keep to myself around them unless they come over and talk to me, or I hear them say something that is an interest of mine then I can break out of my shell and start talking.

✨After speaking up to a person and getting to know them better, I'm a very bubbly person, I try to be kind by treating people the way I want to be treated and only rarely am I angry unless someone really press my buttons. I also use humor to cope with, pretty much everything, and I always try my hardest to make someone laugh, because whenever I hear someone laugh, my heart melts because of it. Idk why it just does.

✨considering my height, and my weight, I'm a chubby girl, thick thighs and all. It took me a long time to love myself and try to accept myself for who I am, since I was bullied quite a bit during my childhood for my weight and other things. However, even though Im starting to love myself, there are times where I become insecure but I usually keep it to myself unless someone makes me blurt it out.

✨speaking of insecure, I have really bad anxiety. Whenever I'm under pressure during a situation I have no idea how to fix, I start to pick at my skin, usually digging my nails into my skin to the point it draws blood. And whenever I'm around a lot of people, like at a store for example, I always feel like their eyes are on me which makes me feel very insecure and I keep my arms around my stomach to try to keep my nerves down. Whenever I feel my anxiety rise, my body start to twitch, especially my hands, so in order to calm it down I start to sketch out a drawing or listen to music to help me calm.

✨I was mentally and physically abused as a child so it takes me a while before I can truly open to someone. I always feel like I'm a burden to people when I speak out about my problems or my feelings, so I tend to keep them to myself. However, there are times where I just can't keep it in anymore, so I just let it all out to someone by either crying or speaking at high speed (pretty much gibberish) and tug really hard at my hair. Because of this, I love it when someone understands me or, even if they don't know what I've exactly been through, they're still there to help and support me no matter what.

✨I usually don't use words or describe my emotions in these types of situations, so I express it to my partner by actions. Such as hugging them tight, or crying in their shoulders. Because I'm always worried I'll say the wrong thing to someone. And whenever I do say something wrong, I apologise to them, but it still lingers in my head for a while before I can come to terms with it.

✨In many situations, I try to use my brain before acting out, but there are times where my emotions get the best of me.

✨I have an immense fear that I'll be forgotten by the people I love, or I lose someone close to me. It didn't bother me back then, but now it's become a big fear of mine.

✨ANYWAY- aside from the "that" stuff, I get really flustered whenever someone compliments me, or even remotely flirts with me. Sure, I flirt back or compliment to someone as well (even if it's cheesy sometimes-) but when it's directed to me, I blush SO hard and smile because Ive never been complimented a lot during my past, so I take compliments to heart a lot of the time.

✨My hobbies are Drawing/Painting, Reading, Writing, Video games, and Hanging out with my friends.

✨Drawing has always been my favorite hobby as long as I can remember. Through out the years, my art style has gotten better, even though I still don't have an officially art style for myself. I especially love to draw or sketch out the people I love, ocs, animals, and mythical creatures. Mostly dragons/wyverns since I've always been entranced by mythology and mythical creatures. Drawing, or sketching in general has helped me a lot with expressing my emotions and my creativity on paper.

✨Animation has always been my biggest aspiration and I'm currently saving up money so I can study in animation.

Anyways, I think imma stop my matchup ask here so I hope all of this information about me helps! Again, I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with this matchup!

Hi Onyx!!!! You are NEVER bothering me!!! Thank you for sending in such a detailed bio for me! I just wanted to say, a lot of how you describe yourself sounds like me! Maybe its a fellow Aquarius thing? You are so so brave to be able to share so much about yourself with me, and I am so very thankful you felt safe to do so! <3 rooting for you and here for you if you need an ear, or shoulder. 

Alright, now. I have excluded Levi, Armin, and Connie because I believe those are the ones that are shorter than 5′5. 

I think the single thing that made me choose who I did for you was your love for art! I would match you up with....

Jean! 

We saw how much of an artist Jean was, and honestly that part stuck with me. 

Jean would be a good match for an ambivert such as yourself because I feel like he is a good balance of quiet contemplation and keeping to himself mixed with a very particular personality that can lean towards outgoing and sarcastic. 

I feel like Jean would be very respectful of what you wanted, and in time, would get more perceptive towards your needs. Did you agree to go out with your friends but as the day drew closer seemed a little hesitant about going out? He would be willing to be your scapegoat, telling your friends that he had something come up and you couldnt hang out anymore, or that there was some sort of leak or issue he caused and he needed you to stay behind to help with it. Essentially, he would be partner and that friend you call to bail you out of unfortunate situations all rolled up into one! 

At first, Jean would be the one who prompts you to talk and share more about yourself, but over time, as you grow more comfortable with him, you’d be the one dominating conversations, and he'd be absolutely fine with it! Just listening to you talk with an occasional hum or comment. 

Jean I think would be a mixture of actions and words. He is a little more vocal about sharing his emotions, but not by much. Hes mostly in his head with things and can come off as a little cold, but if you knew how he communicated his love, it would be obvious how much he cares. He does the little, mundane things to make life easier for you rather than profess his feelings all the time. When he notices how you cope with stressful environments, he'd be a great help. He'd gently take your hands and help you unfurl your clenched fist, or lacing your fingers with his to prevent you from picking at em. He would be that rock you need at the store, ushering you into a quiet aisle with an arm around your shoulder, making sure you're okay before resuming the shopping trip, planning out the optimal routes to take in order to minimize time spent in the store. 

The two of you would rarely get into arguments, mainly due to the fact that he could never really argue with you, also, you are just...never really angry. He would know better than to push your buttons or pick a fight so its usually pretty smooth sailing. 

You and jean’s everyday talk would be cute to listen to, him taking every opportunity to flirt or throw in a cheesy pickup line to make you smile. “good morning! its a beautiful day!”

“morning! You’re right. Gorgeous.” and hes looking straight at you and not at the blue skies smh 

Jean might be a little embarrassed or self conscious about his art, but would love to watch you sketch. He would go along with you to the park, or just out to explore new spots, sitting beside you quietly, sometimes laying his head in your lap as you sketch. That would be his ideal lazy afternoon. 

Overall, you two would be super cute! Everyone thinks so, but most importantly, the two of you would support each other, each helping the other grow in the best ways! 

Valentines Day Event 

[just-breathe-fight-cf]

FIVE FEET APART

Rachael Lippincott with Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis

Copyright 2018 / Simon & Schuster BFYR

Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Stella and Will, both suffering from cystic fibrosis, realize the only way to stay alive is to stay apart, but their love for each other is slowly pushing the boundaries of physical and emotional safety.

For Alyson

--R. L.

We dedicate this book, and the movie, to all the patients, families, medical staff, and loved ones who bravely fight the battle against cystic fibrosis every day. We hope the story of Stella and Will helps to bring awareness to this disease and, one day, a cure.

--M. D. and T. I.

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 1 - STELLA

     I trace the outline of my sister’s drawing, lungs molded from a sea of flowers. Petals burst out from every edge of the twin ovals in soft pinks, deep whites, even heather blues, but somehow each one has a uniqueness, a vibrancy that feels like it’ll bloom forever. Some of the flowers haven’t blossomed yet, and I can feel the promise of life just waiting to unfold from the tiny buds under the weight of my finger. Those are my favorites.

I wonder, all too often, what it would be like to have lungs this healthy. This alive. I take a deep breath, feeling the air fight its way in and out of my body.

Slipping off the last petal of the last flower, my hand sinks, fingers dragging through the background of stars, each pinpoint of light that Abby drew a separate attempt to capture infinity. I clear my throat, pulling my hand away, and lean over to grab a picture of us from off my bed. Identical smiles peek out from underneath thick wool scarves, the holiday lights at the park down the street twinkling above our heads just like the stars in her drawing.

There was something magical about it. The soft glow of the lampposts in the park, the white snow clinging to the branches of the trees, the quiet stillness of it all. We nearly froze our butts off for that picture last year, but it was our tradition. Me and Abby, braving the cold to go see the holiday lights together.

This photo always makes me remember that feeling. The feeling of going on an adventure with my sister, just the two of, us, the world expanding like an open book.

I take a thumbtack and hang the picture next to the drawing before sitting down on my bed and grabbing my pocket notebook and pencil off my bedside table. My eyes travel down the long to-do list I made for myself this morning, starting with “#1: Plan to-do list,” which I’ve already put a satisfying line through, and going all the way down to “#22: Contemplate the afterlife.”

Number 22 was probably just a little ambitious for a Friday afternoon, but at least for now I can cross off number 17, “Decorate walls.” I look around the formerly stark room I’ve spent the better part of the morning making my own, once again, the wall now filled with the artwork Abby’s given me through the years, bits of color and life jumping out from clinical white walls, each once a product of a different trip to the hospital.

Me with an IV drip in my arm, the bag bursting with butterflies of different shapes and colors and sizes. Me wearing a nose cannula, the cable twisting to form an infinity sign. Me with my nebulizer, the vapor pouring out of it forming a cloudy halo. Then there’s the most delicate one, a faded tornado of stars that she drew my very first time here.

It’s not as polished as her later stuff, but somehow that make me like it more.

And right underneath all that vibrancy is…my pile of medical equipment, sitting right next to a hideous green faux-leather hospital chair that comes standard for every room here at Saint Grace’s. I eye the empty IV pole warily, knowing my first of many rounds of antibiotics over the next month is exactly and hour and nine minutes away. Lucky me.

“Here it is!” a voice calls from just outside my room. I look up as the door slowly creaks open and two familiar faces appear in the small crack of the doorway. Camila and Mya have visited me here a million times in the past decade, and they still can’t get from the lobby to my room without asking every person in the building for directions.

“Wrong room,” I say, grinning as a look of pure relief washes over them.

Mya laughs, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “It honestly could’ve been. This place is still a freaking maze.”

“Are you guys excited?” I say, hopping up to give them both hugs.

Camila pulls away to look at me, pouting, her dark-brown hair practically drooping along with her. “Second trip in a row without you.”

It’s true. This isn’t the first time my cystic fibrosis has taken me out of the running for some class trip or sunny vacation or school event. About 70 percent of the time, things are pretty normal for me. I go to school, I hang out with Camila and Mya, I work on my app. I just do it all with low-functioning lungs. But for the remaining 30 percent of my time, CF controls my life. Meaning when I need to return to the hospital for a tune-up, I miss out on things like a class trip to the art museum or now our senior trip to Cabo.

This particular tune-up just happens to be centered around the fact that I need to be pumped with antibiotics to finally get rid of a sore throat and a fever that won’t go away.

That, and my lung function is tanking.

Mya plunks down on my bed, sighing dramatically as she lies back. “It’s only two weeks. Are you sure you can’t come? It’s our senior trip, Stella!”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly, and they know I mean it. We’ve been friends since middle school, and they know by now that when it comes to plans, my CF gets the final say.

It’s not like I don’t want to go. It’s just, quite literally, a matter of life or death. I can’t go off to Cabo, or anywhere for that matter, and risk not coming back. I can’t do that to my parents. Not now.

“You were the head of the planning committee this year, though! Can’t you get them to move your treatments? We don’t want you to be stuck here,” Camila says, gesturing to the hospital room I so carefully decorated.

I shake my head. “We still have spring break together! And I haven’t missed a spring break ‘Besties Weekend’ since eighth grade, when I got that cold!” I say, smiling hopefully and looking back and forth between Camila and Mya. Neither of them returns my smile, though, and both opt to continue looking like I killed their family pets.

I notice they’re both holding the bags of bathing suits I told them to bring, so I grab Camila’s out of her hand in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “Ooh, suit options! We have to pick out the best ones!” Since I’m not going to be basking in the warm Cabo sun in a bathing suit of my choice, I figure I can at least live a little vicariously through my friends by picking out theirs with them.

This perks them both up. We eagerly dump their bags out on my bed, creating a mishmash of florals and polka dots and fluorescents.

I scan Camila’s pile of bathing suits, grabbing a red one that falls somewhere between a bikini bottom and a single piece of thread, which I know without a doubt is a hand-me-down from her older sister, Megan.

I toss it to her. “This one. It’s very you.”

Her eyes widen, and she holds it up to her waist, fixing her wire-frame glasses in surprise. “I mean, the tan lines would be pretty great--“

“Camila,” I say, grabbing a white-and-blue-striped bikini that I can tell will fit her like a glove. “I’m kidding. This one’s perfect.”

She looks relieved, grabbing the bikini from me. I turn my attention to Mya’s pile, but she’s busy texting away from the green hospital chair in the corner, a big smile plastered on her face.

I dig out a one-piece that she’s had since swim class in sixth grade, holding it up to her with a smirk. “How’s this, Mya?”

“Love it! Looks great!” she says, typing furiously.

Camila snorts, putting her suits back in the bag and giving me a sly smile. “Mason and Brooke called it quits,” she says in explanation.

“Oh my god. They did not!” I say. This is news. Amazing news.

Well, not for Brooke. But Mya has been crushing on Mason since Mrs. Wilson’s English class sophomore year, so this trip is her chance to finally make a move.

It bums me out I won’t be there to help her make a killer ten-step “Whirlwind Cabo Romance with Mason” plan.

Mya puts her phone away and shrugs casually, standing and pretending to look at some of the artwork on the walls. “No big deal. We’re going to meet him and Taylor at the airport tomorrow morning.”

I give her a look and she breaks out into a huge smile. “Okay, it’s a little bit of a big deal!”

We all squeal with excitement, and I hold up an adorable polka-dot one-piece that is super vintage, and right up her alley. She nods, grabbing it and holding it up to her body. “I was totally hoping you’d pick this one.”

I look over to see Camila glancing at her watch nervously, which is no surprise. She’s a champion procrastinator and probably hasn’t packed a single thing for Cabo yet.

Besides the bikini, of course.

She sees me notice her checking her watch and grins sheepishly. “I still need to buy a beach towel for tomorrow.”

Classic Camila.

I stand up, my heart sinking in my chest at the thought of them leaving, but I don’t want to hold them up. “You guys have to get going, then! Your plane is at, like, the ass crack of dawn tomorrow.”

Mya looks around the room sadly while Camila twists her bag of suits dejectedly around her hand. The two of them are making this even harder that I thought it would be. I swallow the guilt and annoyance that come bubbling up. It’s not like they’re the ones missing their senior trip to Cabo. At least they’ll be together.

I give them both big smiles, practically pulling them to the door with me. My cheeks hurt from all this fake positivity, but I don’t want to ruin it for them.

“We’ll send you a bunch of pictures, okay?” Camila says, giving me a hug.

“You’d better! Photoshop me into a few,” I say to Mya, who is a wizard at Adobe. “You won’t even know I wasn’t there!”

They linger in the doorway, and I give them an exaggerated eye roll, playfully shoving them out into the hallway. “Get outta here. Go have a great trip.”

“Love you, Stella!” they call as they walk down the hallway. I watch them go, waving until Mya’s bouncing curls are completely out of sight, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be walking out with them, off to pack instead of unpack.

My smile fades as I close the door and see the old family pictures pinned carefully to the back of my door.

It was taken a few summers ago on the front porch of our house during a Fourth of July barbecue. Me, Abby, Mom, and Dad, goofy smiles on all our faces as the camera captures the moment. I feel a swell of homesickness as I hear the sound of the worn, rickety wood of that front step, creaking underneath us as we laugh and get close for the picture. I miss that feeling. All of us together, happy and healthy. For the most part.

This isn’t helping. Singing, I pull myself away, looking over at the medicine cart.

In all honesty, I like it here. It’s been my home away from home since I was six, so I usually don’t mind coming. I get my treatments, I take my medicine, I drink my body weight in milk shakes, I get to see Barb and Julie, I leave until my next flare-up. Simple as that. But this time I feel anxious, restless even. Because instead of just wanting to get healthy, I need to get healthy. For my parent’s sake.

Because they’ve gone and messed up everything by getting divorced. And after losing each other, they won’t be able to handle losing me, too. I know it.

If I can get better, maybe…

One step at a time. I head over to the wall oxygen, double-checking the flowmeter is set properly, and listen for the steady hiss of the oxygen coming out of it before I pull the tube around my ears and slide the prongs of the cannula into my nose. Sighing, I sink down onto the familiarly uncomfortable hospital mattress, and take a deep breath.

I reach for my pocket notebook to read the next thing on my to-do list and keep myself preoccupied-- “#18: Record a video.”

I grab my pencil and bite it thoughtfully as I stare at the words I wrote earlier. Oddly enough, contemplating the afterlife seems easier right now.

But the list is the list, so, exhaling, I reach over to my bedside table to get my laptop, sitting cross-legged on the new floral comforter I picked out yesterday at Target while Camila and Mya were buying clothes for Cabo. I didn’t even need the comforter, but they were so enthusiastic in helping my pick something out for my trip to the hospital, I felt bad not getting it. At least it sort of matches my walls now, bright and vibrant and colorful.

I drum my fingers anxiously on the keyboard, and squint at my reflection in the screen while my computer starts up. I frown at the mess of long brown hair and try to smooth it down, running my fingers through it over and over. Frustrated, I pull my hair tie off my wrist and resort to a messy bun in an attempt to look halfway decent for this video. I grab my copy of Java Coding for Android Phones off my bedside table and put my laptop on top of it, so I don’t show some serious under chin, and can have a shot that’s remotely flattering.

Logging on to my YouTube Live account, I adjust the webcam, making sure you can see Abby’s lung drawing directly behind me.

It’s the perfect backdrop.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the familiar wheeze of my lungs trying desperately to fill with air through the sea of mucus. Exhaling slowly, I slap a big Hallmark-greeting-card smile on my face before opening my eyes and pressing the enter key to go live.

“Hey guys. Is everyone having a good Black Friday? I waited for snow that never came!”

I glance into the corner of my screen as I turn the camera toward the hospital window, the sky a cloudy gray, the trees on the other side of the glass completely barren. I smile as my livestream count goes steadily past 1K, a fraction of the 23,940 YouTube subscribers who tune in to see how my battle with cystic fibrosis is going.

“So, I could be getting ready to go on a plane to Cabo for my school’s senior trip, but instead I’ll be spending this holiday at my home away from home, thanks to a mild sore throat.”

Plus, a raging fever. I think back to when I got my temperature taken on intake this morning, the flashing numbers on the thermometer blaring out a strong 102. I don’t want to mention it in the video, though, because my parents will definitely be watching this later.

As far as they know, I just have a nagging cold.

“Who needs two whole weeks of sunshine and blue skies and beaches when you can have a month of luxury right in your own backyard?”

I rattle off the amenities, counting them on my fingers. “Let’s see. I’ve got a full-time concierge, unlimited chocolate pudding, and laundry services. Oh, and Barb talked Dr. Hamid into letting me keep all my meds and treatments in my room this time! Check it out!”

I turn the webcam to the pile of medical equipment and then to the medicine cart next to me, which I’ve already perfectly organized into alphabetical and chronological order by the scheduled dosage time I plugged into the app I made. It’s finally ready for a test run!

That was number 14 on today’s to-do list, and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.

My computer dings as comments begin rolling in. I see one mentioning Barb’s name with some heart emoji’s. She’s a crowd favorite just as much as she’s my favorite. Ever since I first came to the hospital more than ten years ago, she’s been the respiratory therapist here, slipping candy to me and the other CFers, like my partner in crime Poe. She holds our hand through even the most bone-crushing grips of pain like it’s nothing.

I’ve been making YouTube videos for about half that time to raise awareness about cystic fibrosis. Through the years more people that I could have ever imagined began following my surgeries and my treatments and my visits to Saint Grace’s, sticking with me through my awkward braces phase and everything.

“My lung function is down to thirty-five percent,” I say as I turn the camera back to me. “Dr. Hamid says I’m steadily climbing to the top of the transplant list now, so I’ll be here for a month, taking antibiotics, sticking to my regimen…” My eyes travel to the drawing behind me, the healthy lungs looming over my head, just out of reach.

I shake my head and smile, leaning over to grab a bottle from the medicine cart. “That means taking my medications on time, wearing my AffloVest to break up that mucus, and” -- I hold up the bottle -- “a whole lot of this liquid nutrition through my G-tube every night. If any ladies out there are wishing they could eat five thousand calories a day and still have a Cabo-ready beach body, I’m up for a trade.”

My computer dings away, messages pouring in one after another. Reading a few, I let the positivity push away all the negativity I felt going into this.

Hang in there, Stella! We love you.

Marry me!

“New lungs can come in at any moment, so I’ve got to be ready!” I say the words like I believe them wholeheartedly. Though after all these years I’ve learned to not get my hopes up too much.

DING! Another message.

I’ve got CF and you remind me to always stay positive. XOXO.

My heart warms, and I have a final big smile for the camera, for that person fighting the same fight that I am. This time it’s genuine. “All right, guys, thanks for watching! Gotta double-check my afternoon and evening meds now. You know how anal I am. I hope everyone has a great week. Bye!”

I end the live video and exhale slowly, closing the browser to see the smiling, winter-formal-ready faces on my desktop background. Me, Camila, and Mya, arm in arm, all in the same deep-red lipstick we’d picked out together at Sephora. Camila had wanted a bright pink, but Mya had convinced us that red was the color we NEEDED in our life. I’m still not convinced that was true.

Lying back, I pick up the worn panda resting on my pillows and wrap my arms tightly around him. Patches, my sister, Abby, named him. And what a fitting name that became. The years of coming in and out of the hospital with me have certainly taken their toll on him. Multicolored patches are sewn over spots where he ripped open, his stuffing pouring out when I squeezed too hard during the most painful of my treatments.

There’s a knock on my door, and it flies open not even a second later as Barb busts in holding an armful of pudding cups for me to make my medication with. “I’m back! Delivery!”

When it comes to Barb, not much has changed in the past six months, or the past ten years for that matter; she’s still the best. The same short, curly hair. The same colorful scrubs. The same smile that lights up the entire room.

But then an extremely pregnant Julie trails behind her, carrying an IV drip.

Now that’s a big change from six months ago.

I swallow my surprise and grin at Barb as she places the pudding at the edge of my bed for me to sort onto my medicine cart, then pulls out a list to double-check that the cart has everything I need on it.

“What would I do without you?” I ask.

She winks. “You’d die.”

Julie hangs the IV bag of antibiotics next to me, her belly brushing up against my arm. Why didn’t she tell me she’s pregnant? I go rigid, smiling thinly, as I eye her baby bump and try to subtly move away from it. “A lot’s changed in the past six months!”

She rubs her belly, blue eyes shining brightly as she gives me a big smile. “You want to feel her kick?”

“No,” I say, a little too quickly. I feel bad when she looks slightly taken aback at my bluntness, her blonde eyebrows arching up in surprise. But I don’t want any of my bad juju near that perfect, healthy baby.

Luckily, her eyes travel to my desktop background. “Are those your winter formal pics? I saw a bunch on Insta!” she says, excited. “How was it?”

“Super fun!” I say with a ton of enthusiasm as the awkwardness melts away. I open a folder on my desktop filled with pictures. “Crushed it on the dance floor for a solid three songs. Got to ride in a limo. The food didn’t suck. Plus, I made it to ten thirty before I got tired, which was way better than expected! Who needs a curfew when your body does it for you, right?”

I show her and Barb some pictures we all took at Mya’s house before the dance while she hooks me up to the IV drip and tests my blood pressure and O2 reading. I remember I used to be afraid of needles, but with every blood draw and IV drip, that fear slowly drifted away. Now I don’t even flinch. It makes me feel strong every time I get poked or prodded. Like I can overcome anything.

“All righty,” Barb says when they get all my vitals and finish oohing and aahing over my sparkly, silver A-line gown and my white rose corsage. Camila, Mya, and I decided to swap corsages when we went stag to the formal. I didn’t want to take a date, not that anybody asked me anyway. It was super possible that I would need to bail the day of, or wouldn’t feel well halfway through the dance, which wouldn’t have been fair to whomever I could’ve gone with. The two of them didn’t want me to feel left out, so instead of getting dates of their own, they decided we’d all go together. Because of the Mason developments, though, that doesn’t seem super likely for prom.

Barb nods to the filled medicine cart, resting a hand on her hip. “I’ll still monitor you, but you’re pretty much good to go.” She holds up a pill bottle. “Remember, you have to take this one with food,” she says, putting it carefully back and holding up another one. “And make sure you don’t--“

“I got it Barb,” I say. She’s just being her usual motherly self, but she holds up her hands in surrender. Deep down she knows that I’ll be absolutely fine.

I wave good-bye as they both head towards the door, using the remote next to my bed to sit it up a little more.

“By the way,” Barb says slowly as Julie ducks out of the room. Her eyes narrow at me and she gives me a gentle warning look. “I want you to finish your IV drip first, but Poe’s just checking in to room 310.”

“What? Really?” I say, my eyes widening as I move to launch myself out of bed to find him. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he’d be here!

Barb steps forward, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me gently back down onto the bed before I can fully stand. “What part of ‘I want you to finish your IV drip first’ did you not get?”

I smile sheepishly at her, but how could she blame me? Poe was the first friend I made when I came to the hospital. He’s the only one who really gets it. We’ve fought CF together for a freaking decade. We’ll, together from a safe distance, anyway.

We can’t get too close to each other. For cystic fibrosis patients, cross-infection from certain bacteria strains is a huge risk. One touch between two CFers can literally kill both of them.

Her serious frown gives way to a gentle smile. “Settle in. Relax. Take a chill pill.” She eyes the medicine cart, jokingly. “Not literally.”

I nod, a real laugh spilling out, as a fresh wave of relief fills me at the news of Poe being here too.

“I’ll stop by later to help you with your AffloVest,” Barb says over her shoulder as she leaves. Grabbing my phone, I settle for a quick text message instead of a mad dash down the hall to room 310.

You’re here? Me too. Tune-up.

Not even a second goes by and my screen lights up with his replay: Bronchitis. Just happened. I’ll live. Come by and wave at me later. Gonna crash now.

I lean back on the bed, exhaling long and slow.

Truth is, I’m nervous about this visit.

My lung function fell to 35 percent so quickly: And now, even more than the fever and the sore throat, being here in the hospital for the next month doing treatment after treatment to stem the tide while my friends are far away is freaking me out. A lot. Thirty-five percent is a number that keeps my mom up at night. She doesn’t say it, but her computer does. Search after search about lung transplants and lung-function percentages, new combinations and phrasing but always the same idea. How to get more time. It makes me more afraid than I’ve even been before. But not for me. When you have CF, you sort of get used to the idea of dying young. No, I’m terrified for my parents. And what will become of them if the worst does happen, now that they don’t have each other.

But with Poe here, someone who understands, I can get through it. Once I’m actually allowed to see him.

 The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly.

I work on my app, double-checking that I worked out the programming error that kept coming up when I tried to run it on my phone. I put some Fucidin on the sore skin around my G-tube in an attempt to make it less fire-engine red and more of a summer-sunset pink. I check and double-check my “At Bedtime” pile of bottles and pills. I reply to my parents’ every-hour-on-the-hour texts. I gaze out the window as the afternoon fades and see a couple about my age, laughing and kissing as they walk into the hospital. It’s not every day you see a happy couple coming into a hospital. Watching them holding hands and exchanging longing glances, I wonder what it would be like to have somebody look at me like that. People are always looking at my cannula, my scars, my G-tube, not at me.

It doesn’t make guys want to line up by my locker.

I “dated” Tyler Paul my freshman year of high school, but that lasted all of a month, until I came down with an infection and needed to go to the hospital for a few weeks. Even just a few days in, his texts started to get further and further apart, and I decided to break up with him. Besides, it was nothing like that couple out in the courtyard. Tyler’s palms were sweaty when we held hands, and he wore so much Axe body spray, I would go into coughing fits every time we hugged.

This thought process is not exactly a helpful distraction, so I even give number 22, “Contemplate the afterlife,” on my to-do list a try, and read some of Life, Death, and Immortality: The Journey of the Soul.

But pretty soon, I opt to just lie on my bed, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the wheezing sound of my breathing. I can hear the air struggling to get past the mucus that takes up space in my lungs. Rolling over, I crack open a vial of Flovent to give my lungs a helping hand. I pour the liquid into a nebulizer by my bed, the small machine humming to life as vapors pour from the mouthpiece.

I sit, staring at the drawing of the lungs while I breathe in and out.

And in and out.

And in and…out.

I hope when my parents come to visit over the next few days, my breathing is a little less labored. I told them both that the other one was taking me to the hospital this morning, but I actually just took an Uber here from the corner a street over from my mom’s new place. I don’t want either of them to have to face seeing me here again, at least until I’m looking better.

My mom was already giving me troubled looks when I needed to put my portable oxygen on just to pack.

There’s a knock on my door, and I look over from the wall I’m staring at, hoping it’s Poe stopping by to wave at me. I pull the mouthpiece off as Barb pops her head in. She drops a surgical face mask and latex gloves onto a table next to my door.

“New one upstairs. Meet me in fifteen?”

My heart leaps.

I nod, and she gives me a big smile before ducking out of the room. I grab the mouthpiece and take one more quick hit of the Flovent, letting the vapor fill my lungs the best I can before I’m up and moving. Shutting the nebulizer off, I pick up my portable oxygen concentrator from where it’s been charging next to my bed, press the circular button in the center to turn it on, and pull the strap over my shoulder. After I put the cannula in, I head over to the door, pulling on the blue latex gloves and wrapping the strings of the face mask around my ears.

Sliding into my Converse, I push my door open then squeeze out into the whitewashed corridor, deciding to go the long way so I can walk past Poe’s room.

I pass the nurses’ station in the center of the floor, waving hello to a young nurse’s assistance named Sarah, who is smiling over the top of the new, sleek metal cubicle.

They replaced that before my last visit six months ago. It’s the same height, but it used to be made of this worn wood that had probably been around since the hospital was founded sixty-some years ago. I remember when I was small enough to sneak past to whatever room Poe was in, my head still a good few inches from clearing the desk.

Now it comes up to my elbow.

Heading down the hallway, I grin as I see a small Colombian flag taped on the outside of a half-open door, an overturned skateboard keeping it propped slightly open.

I peer inside to see Poe fast asleep on his bed, curled into a surprisingly tiny ball underneath his plaid comforter, a suave Gordon Ramsay poster, positioned directly over his bed, keeping watch over him.

I draw a heart on the dry-erase board he’s stuck to the outside of his door to let him know I’ve been there, before moving off down the hallway toward the wooden double doors that will take me to the main part of the hospital, up and elevator, down C Wing, across the bridge into Building 2, and straight to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

One of the perks of coming here or more than a decade is that I know the hospital just as well as I knew the house I grew up in. every winding corridor, or hidden staircase, or secret shortcut, exploring over and over again.

But before I can open the double doors, a room door swings open next to me, and I turn my head in surprise to see the profile of a tall, thin boy I’ve never seen before. He’s standing in the doorway of room 315, holding a sketchbook in one hand and a charcoal pencil in the other, a white hospital bracelet like mine wrapped around his wrist.

I stop dead.

His tousled, dark-chocolate-brown hair is perfectly unruly, like he just popped out of a Teen Vogue and landed smack in the middle of Saint Grace’s Hospital. His eyes are a deep blue, the corners crinkling as he talks.

But it’s his smile that catches my eye more than anything else. It’s lopsided, and charming, and it has a magnetic warmth to it.

He’s so cute, my lung function feels like it dropped another 10 percent.

It’s a good thing this mask is covering half my face, because I did not plan for cute guys on my floor this hospital stay.

“I’ve clocked their schedules,” he says as he puts the pencil casually behind his ear. I shift slightly to the left and see that he’s grinning at the couple I saw coming into the hospital earlier. “So, unless you plant your ass on the call button, no one’s going to bother you for at least an hour. And don’t forget. I gotta sleep in that bed, dude.”

“Way ahead of you.” I watch as the girl unzips the duffel bag she’s holding to show him blankets.

Wait. What?

Cute guy whistles. “Look at that. A regular Girl Scout.”

“We’re no animals, man,” her boyfriend say to him, giving him a big, dude-to-dude smile.

Oh my god. Gross. He’s letting his friends do it in his room, like it’s a motel.

I grimace and resume walking down the hallway to the exit doors, putting as much space as possible between me and whatever scheme is going on in there.

So much for cute.

[coalitiongirl]

ive been watching your scenes to rewatch and ive been crying at literally all of them. out of curoisity, what are your favourite ouat scenes? either sq or general? also side note, i love your latest fic, such an interesting premise. i get so scared every time someone says an order and emmas forced to comply, that scene with the trolls had me on edge. and the fact that cora must suspect something about emma now - im so scared but excited ahah :D have a nice day :)

OH I super dropped the ball on those omg, i have so many others!! but i haven’t been able to rewatch in a long time, it hard 😩

of course i LOVE almost every swan queen scene!! it’s hard for me to pick favorites because nearly every one pings something else inside me omfg. I don’t think there’s a single sq scene I couldn’t write an essay about WHOOPS. so lemme try to answer this with just some of my favorite non-sq scenes 😅

Emma in True North: hoo boy, this is probably in my scenes to rewatch but that scene on the road, MAN. there’s so much careful buildup with emma’s abandonment issues and how much she sees herself in nick and ava. and they have a chance she never does and dammit, she fights for them!! she fights for two kids just like her and they get their moment and jmo turns that realization into agony with sheer artistry in emma’s FACE in their final moment. god.

Regina in We Are Both: this was the episode that sold me on Regina! tbh i’d marathoned s1 as soon as they announced mulan was going to be in s2 so i hadn’t been focusing much on thinking before that?? and then suddenly there’s Regina, in all her rich and layered stories, and i fell hARD. the whole narrative of the episode- Regina resisting parental abuse until she becomes what she’s always feared to be free!! and that translating into her saying ‘no, this isn’t going to continue to the next generation. even if i lose the only thing that matters to me.’ do u ever stan!!! I DONT KNOW HOW TO LOVE VERY WELL. END ME.

Emma in Firebird: listen. never follow ur idols to ur next fandom or you’ll suddenly realize they actually hate women and then get ‘’’muted’’’ for ‘’’yelling at her too much’’’ but jane espenson did a GOOD with the flashbacks in this one (present day still literal and figurative hell tho!!). The concept of Emma’s jacket as armor isn’t an original one, but the execution was honestly stellar. Emma forging this connection with an older hardened woman who can’t let go of the past either!! emma destroyed and remade into the lady we met on her twenty-eighth birthday. GOD. SHE FINDS HER DAUGHTER. and i gotta say, the vulnerable-tearful-young thing jmo was doing w emma in s5 didn’t work for me in terms of what present day was trying to convey, but it’s a perfect fit for that flashback, i WEPT.

Regina in Quite A Common Fairy: Lana OWNS the cave scene with Tink, god. The depth and breadth of emoTION. The episode and the narrative itself builds it up from episode one! because this regina on the road to redemption but finally giving us a glimpse into the emotional and mental state she was in as the young queen- she has all this rage and she’s SUSTAINED by it, it’s her only real truth and constant and she’s terrified of what might happen if she lets it go for even an instant and chooses hope instead. (Lana’s voice when Regina says she’s afraid that without rage she might just ‘—float away’ is something that has stayed with me for a long, long time.) REGINA PULLING OUT HER HEART TO MAKE A POINT. far from the last time she will, but how affecting!! god!!

Emma and Snow in S1: There are a few moments i’m thinking of (and i’m literally writing this on the treadmill so pls forgive the lack of episode names) and all of them are so stellar, god. The moment when Snow finds Emma living out of her car early on. Snow and Emma sitting at the table at the loft holding hands. Emma lying down next to a crying Snow. Snow yelling at Emma for being so selfish when she tries running off with Henry?? EMMA SHOWING UP AT MARY MARGARET’S DOOR SEARCHING FOR A ~PERSON~ AND MARY MARGARET SILENTLY LETTING HER IN. Snow and Emma work best in S1 in the silences and the fights, where they’re allowed to just care and be family, and I treasure each of those moments as much as they do.

Regina and Zelena in the Kansas: There’s a lot of effort put into this dynamic right near what seemed like the end, playing with how exactly Zelena perceives her happy ending to go- and then Regina strikes it all down by being different, by changing, by being someone Zelena hadn’t believed either of them capable of. And then Regina goes to Zelena’s cell and offers her!! sisterhood!! my god. i instantly fell in love with the dynamic in that moment and i’m forever pressed that the ‘it’s nice to have family in town’ line was cut. because you can tell that regina craves family and craves unmaking this second monster of her mother’s and zelena was going to TAKE that second chance and hey! this seems the perfect time to go off-message and

Belle in Family Business and Heroes and Villains: imma be honest, i like belle just fine in the early seasons but i have zero interest in rumbelle, which means a lot of fast-forwarding through her scenes. But these two scenes were ENCHANTING. Mirror Belle preying on Belle with the truth that she’s afraid to face! Emilie does such a fantastic job conveying so much cruelty in that scene, I was gaping and enthralled and hoping shattered sight was going to work exactly like that (and tbh props to ginny for doing a hella creepy snow at the start of Shattered Sight). And that town line scene!!! What a stunning, evocative scene. Belle reclaiming agency and taking action in such a 100% cold-blooded but necessary way!! that’s my ravenclaw babe!!!

Mulan and Aurora: I was young, and I Believed, and I Believed for a very long time. I am appalled at my naïveté too, don’t worry.

Regina in Enter the Dragon: LOOK it’s not about the leather but it’s a lil about the leather!!! I really appreciate both Regina in the past and present in this one and also how gay it is, and I’m most charmed by lil evil pep talking nugget Regina who just wants you to be the very best villain you can be! It’s such an artful melding of the exuberance of young!Regina and the delight in chaos of eq!Regina and i, for one, am a fan.

Emma (and Henry) in The Stranger/An Apple Red as Blood: my gOD. Okay I think one of the first times I cried while watching this show was in Emma’s desperate, hysterical denial to August about the curse. She’s so clearly hit rock bottom and she’s TERRIFIED of believing and it’s breaking her. SHE DIDNT ASK TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYONES HAPPINESS. SHE DOESNT WANT IT. THAT IS CRAP!!!! i love her!! i love emma swan!!! i do!!!!! and then moving into the end of the next episode when she tells henry she’s leaving and just!! ‘henry! life isn’t a story!’ man this show had some incredible early work. sigh. emma kneeling in front of henry begging him to listen! my god.

Regina in the Cricket Game: so i’m leaving out all my fave sq moments which severely limits the number of regina and emma scenes i can talk about here but the flashbacks in this one SURE ARE SOMETHING. regina has hit rock bottom in this set and you feel it in every moment, in her REGRET THAT I HAVE NOT CAUSED MORE PAIN and frickin stABBING snow and that dark scene with the candle oh god. this is a regina who doesn’t think about looking back anymore but who doesn’t think about looking forward, either, and she’s terrifying. it reminds me a lot of the scene later this season in Welcome to Storybrooke where she takes out snow’s heart and ‘see? i can have everything’ but there are tears sliding down her face. regina in enraged despair is something to behold!!

Henry (and Emma and Regina) in Operation Mongoose: Henry doesn’t often get lengthy times to shine that aren’t about other characters, but he was literally a YA hero in the author’s universe! man! what a kid! and his scenes with bandit Regina are some of my all-time favorites, as is that heartstopping moment when he reaches the top of that tower and flings the door open and Emma KNOWS him. reader, i wept. i wept hard. talk about your earned moments!!!

Emma as Dark Swan: posture! clothing! positioning! voice work! dark swan was a revelation i’m still rightfully bitter about, because she was EVERYTHING in those early episodes. the way she caressed snow’s face in first episode of 5a. the faux-innocent with the calculating eyes on the ship with whats-his-name. every interaction with henry where she was trying to be a PERSON. the way she moved! the way she felt more reptilian than human! i wanted to know everything about her!! (then i did and quit the show lol) honestly some of jmo’s best acting to date, i’m forever in awe.

That Still Small Voice: look, this is an episode about a cricket and it remains one of my favorite quality ouat episodes. Archie sells it best as an adult influenced by his past without quite knowing it, and Archie and Henry make for a really engaging dynamic in here. There is nothing about Archie’s professional behavior that doesn’t make me want to scream but this remains a very, very good episode.

Emma in Sympathy for the De Vil/Lily: okay this is cheating a little because so much of this is also Regina but!! Emma individually shines in this narrative and throughout 4b. From the moment she finds out about what her parents had done, you can watch it slowly draining a part of her?? yes her eyes got redder but there was also this kind of apathy about EVERYTHING. And tbh the Cruella episode is pretty awesome on its own (I love the slow revelation that Cru is the villain, what a stellar execution of a fave trope) but WHEN EMMA KILLS HER. In the exact moment that Cruella says ‘heroes don’t kill’. that’s what pushes emma over the edge!! and then emma ready to kill again the next episode because she feels like she’s sliding into an abyss, i couldn’t BREATHE. emma is incredible when the narrative lets her be angry, and i wanted So Much More. Speaking of which, Emma getting angrier and angrier and almost losing it in The Snow Queen was more of that anger!! i am HUNGRY for it.

Regina and Snow in The Evil Queen: This episode is messy af but damn did my heart skip a beat when a hooded hero saves Regina and tears off her hood and it’s SNOW. This episode does so much of what makes Snow/Regina so fascinating and frustrating, both in the present and the past. Their interactions in the woods moved me! changed me! and Regina had already crossed the point of no return but oh man, oh man, the way they’d almost gotten somewhere for a minute there.

Regina and Henry in Save Henry: A classic, a work of art, and I’ve said so much about it in the past that I’m exhausted just thinking about expressing it all again now. But what a STORY of an evil queen who falls in love with a little boy. What a narrative!! The promo pictures from this episode came out when I was sitting in the hospital for a checkup while I was expecting my daughter, and I was tearing up and the nurses thought it was about the ultrasound. I’M NOT PROUD. This is a love story!!! And it culminates again in A Curious Thing, by the way, which put another ten years on my life, an Epic !

Emma and Henry in New York City Serenade: boy was this a journey, but I was absolutely spellbound omg. This was a love song to a fantasy but it’s a fantasy that never unmakes Emma– she’s afraid of commitment and happiness and everything permanent in her life that isn’t Henry, but she’s still going to take that leap despite herself. It’s a wonderful character study that captures Emma’s essence in a new world, with a new past.

Snow in The Miller’s Daughter: Snow is at her best when the show isn’t painting her with rose-colored glasses and we get to see her darker side, and I don’t think she ever gets quite as dark in the first three seasons as she is when she’s standing there, smiling earnestly at Regina as she tells her that the key to Cora loving Regina is in the poisoned heart she holds. My god. It’s so incredibly cold-blooded and vile, and it’s absolutely the kind of manipulative pragmatism that suits Snow best. I am enthralled and horrified.

Neal and Emma and Henry and Gold in Manhattan: This is one of those really cool scenes where even though I don’t particularly care for half the characters within it, everyone acted the hell out of it and it’s so GOOD. There’s so much tension and you’re holding your breath through the squabbling, and then Henry shows up and you KNOW. You know what’s going to happen and you’re terrified for Emma and it’s so visceral, right up until the instant when Neal demands Henry’s age and Henry shouts ELEVEN and my god, my god. What a reveal. What a scene.

There are more!! so many scenes and moments i’ve loved over the years. Emma and young!Lily! Snowing in Snow Falls! Anna of Arendale!! Snow and Emma in Lost Girl!! Ruby in Red Handed! The David/Emma dragon fight in A Land Without Magic! Regina tearing out that heart in The Doctor and meeting Daniel again?? Regina and her father in hell. all of Hat Trick. i think twenty is a good place to stop, but hoo boy, when this show was good, it was GOOD. alas.

[somedaypast-thesunset]

this weekend was actually okay and something i needed. on saturday i spoke to my landlord who was very aggressive about our deal and it gave me alot f anxiety. i attempted to share this with.. well.. anyone, and it was really isolating. the day before i had spent just a few hours with him and another friend and i felt isolated. saturday evening he decided he wanted to hang out and was really, really excited to share that he had found a cottage he could use this summer. neither me nor my friend was that enthused. both of us have lives that dont reallt include cottages and who knows if he will still be our friend by then. honestly. and he presented this with such excitement, like it would be good news for me. like i would care. like i was supposed to care. i think in a way both my friend and i thought good news wouldve been him wanting to move out of his mothers house. like he had a change of heart and realized what was actually for the best. he stuck on the cottage, repeatedly asking me over the next day or so if i was excited. he said i could go fishing. if i dont, does he bring someone else? but having him in a good mood was much better than usual and made him much more affectionate and nice, which is what i needed to overcome some of my anxiety. not all anxiety can truly be solved on its own. he kept touching me and held my hand and was overall just really nice. it made me comfortable enough to share my landlord situation and surprisingly he had a similar reaction to my own - they had been nice before, they set out the rules im following, theyre just angry they arent getting anything right now by definition of their own rules. he told me it was okay and i didnt need to worry about it because they had resolved to threats and aggression when i never once acted inappropriately. i felt alot better hearing that. weve been very careful not to comment on each others choices but still offer passive opinions. he doesnt like me living with anyone and hes negative about all of my options. but he doesnt tell me outright what to do / what im doing wrong in his eyes. but it felt better to feel justified in my belief that i wasnt crazy for thinking that i was in fact following their rules and procedures. a bit later on he mentioned that i should try for my native status and to me its a very sketchy subject based on almost 100 years of people with a very flimsy story which i imagine is mostly true but there could be serious false parts. thats why i just accept the ancestry my father believed in but dont indulge in it. but its gratifying to hear a random opinion which someone came to on their own regarding my ancestry and their belief in my belief. but he added that i should seek out an aboriginal center that could help me through the process and they should be more than willing to help because ive experienced so much abusive trauma. i felt a bit thrown back by this observation and didnt really reply. i mean, im not insulted or offended. im more genuinely surprised that within his own thoughts he believed i had abusive trauma and he wanted a way for me to cope easier in life. and it wasnt just oh u had trauma, it was 'so much abusive trauma' - very specific, indicating belief that not onlt had i experienced trauma on its own but that it had been willfully inflicted on me in my past. i believe in a way this also refers to the fact i told him what has been unsaid between us but most obvious in our last fight. he is a contributing factor on a semi regular basis to my anxieties and depression because he chooses to be as close as he is in the type of 'relationship' we have but does things like randomly break up or blame things on me. but its up and down, putting me through a cycle and my trust and patience, as thin as it was to begin with, is hanging on by a thread. i do believe he could leave at any moment without deep thought into how it would affect me. and he tries to remain naive or ignorant to the damage he caused; he asks me if i know where random things are or why i havent taken care of our herb garden and i remind him that im not here and im not welcome to do these things or know these things. he pushed me away for almost two weeks and expected things to be exactly as they were like i had left yesterday. i believe, like my ex, my trauma is too large for him. like, its a hard thing to completely encapsulate and see on a single level at once. and its complex emotional abuse - whether purposeful or not by people that may or may not have had control over the situation. i have felt like an observer since i was a baby. like im just watching crazy shit go down over and over again without a real period of content in between it all. in the afternoon, i felt a bit better. i didnt need sympathy or a shoulder to cry on necessarily, but when you feel very isolated, having your existence acknowledged is good. someone knows. they thought about it. i didnt implant it or bring it up. i roller skated for a bit - im sure its like literally 5-10 minutes of skating at a time but to me its kind of amazing im outside on rollerskates at all. and i think its kind of unbelievable to others as well - not that im too lazy, just that ive made an active choice to emerge from things at the best of mt abilities. later i began looking for jobs and apartments, repeating the same routine of the last few weeks but grateful to be in comfort doing it instead of at the library. i began narrowing down my search - i know, i know, i should take all the jobs. any job. put myself on a production line, hand bomb boxes, cut up chicken - but i cant. i cant do it at this point in my psyche. i cannot physically or mentally bare the process of living that way. its incomprehensible to me - im not above it. im not stubborn. im not lazy. but when you barely have the desire to get out of bed and feed yourself and bathe, to create the desire from nothing to go to a factory and pack boxes for eight hours of the day is so much time alone with my mind. its not distracting or challenging enough and ive see. these terrible jobs make normal people depressed so to me it seems like a death sentence. so i began to narrow it down - its been a long journey, acrually. it started months ago when i sat down and sincerely though about the very few things i could believe or want in my life thriugh all the fog and trauma and stress. it was very basic - im kind of a simple person. or maybe im simple among my turmoil. i like animals - but they also can trigger alot of anxiety and emotions that i dont want to deal with on a regular basis on top of having employment to maintain. i like cooking and baking; but all job environments with this are very high stress fast paced places and i am a sloth. not lazy, again, but currently moving at a pace that is the best of my abilities. i like computers but my skills are from 2008 and i dont have the patience or attention span to upgrade them right now. i like, in some ways, cleaning but i dont think its something id want to do everyday of my life. i like caring for the elderly, but again, its a complex job with alot of mental stress. so for the past month or so ive settled on essentially something in horticulture. i like growing things. it brings me a little joy on the inside. i like herb gardens and flowers, i like being outside, i like learning about plants. i began looking for a job in a garden center but they were few and far between and i began to realize that it was still mainly retail. so i applied to landscaping - i could cut grass and weed gardens but its male dominated industry and i dont think my few years of experience doing well, nothing, makes me a their first choice. plus its back breaking and the weather conditions can be terrible. so i looked for jobs as a florist or in a flower shop or maybe just the flower department in a grocery store. it seemed relatively low stress, not incredibly fast paced but something that was always in demand and flowers and maintaining flowers is great. but i began to learn that it required experience, as most jobs do, but as i thought about it i realized perhaps i could be a floral designer. it sounds really.. meh. like a super unimportant job with no real purpose and may e thats okay. it has alot of options; floral shops, weddings, funerals - its an oddly versatile thing that also allows for creativity and an experience of art and a little bit of science. its not complex, but it could be. and it allows for expansion - i could run my own flower shop. its not the most useful trade but its something thats always useable. i hesistantly looked into schooling. it seemed like a random course you took once and they gave you a paper. but a neaeby college has an entire 2 semester course that includes fundamentals of color and design and business plus floral design and other similae things. i say near but its a 2 hr bus ride away. however, its only on saturdays. one day a week for eight months. for curiousitys sake i looked into student loans. my last experience was uncomfortable. despite my best efforts, including calling multiole financial aid offices and sending paper work, i was still messed around and had no idea what to do to fix it. in rhe end i was told it was unlikely student loans would cover my choice; it was an online course in criminal psychology. i felt defeated and turned away from it but looking back now it was a poor attempt to alleviate pressures. so i was weary that osap would cover this course. apparantly school was sketchier than i thiught and the websites were utterly confusing and just asking for money up front. but i continued on, certain that it must work - everyone else manages it. i found the loan calculator and inputted the data. it would be the bare minimum course load thst would count towards getting a loan. it seemed impossible, a course that only happened saturdays that would be covered by a loan. but it recognized the course and calculated based on my assistance i get now, which i know is possible and i know assistance encourages you to do so. it came back as covering my books as well as 9000$+ for living & travelling expenses for the eight months. right now, assistance would allow me a little over 5000$ provided i dont get a job. and thats for living and eating, 300$ a month for rent, 300$ for basic living. at 9000$ i could afford 500-600$ in rent, possibly more if i really wanted to stretch it more so as a loan, when i work, my money isnt deducted. so my shelter costs are covered and at an even higher amount of rent for 700$, i have 300$ still to live on. if i wanted to live alone, that is. having 500-600$ to offer in a roommate situation or towards anything in my future is better than the 300-400$ im looking at now. so i think i want to do this. im going to ask assistance to cover the application fee and im rly hoping i have the one pre requisite course they ask for. it doesnt solve anything right now at all. this is long term think over the next 6-8 months, whicb honestly is scary. im scared by planning so far ahead for myself. and its hard because what if what if what if. but i think its the right thing to do. i dont know if it is. was i ever going to be a famous chef or doctor or office person? probably not. im lucky to exist as i am now. its a reachable goal just outside of my comfortzone and despite the meager amount it seems like theyre giving me, its more than i have had for almost a year now. i believe im ready to handle this, which is funny because its thrown on 18 yr olds eith no life experience but it doesnt matter. a friend has been sort of wanting to be my roommate. its hard to trust her though. and its a really sketchy situation to enter into but financially it would make sense and it would allow me to keep a majority of my comforts. she said she drove around and looked for apartments yesterday and called a few, which is more than ive done. she did show me a few but they were just out of my price range and i wonder if i just wont have enough money to even have a roommate. i also havent had any calls or opportunties for jobs or cash and half of it is my fault. today i could go to contract testing andearn 20$. but ill spend 4$ to get there. i wanted to make it a trip and go to the assistance office too and submit paper work for my application but my desire is not there and im frustrated st myself because i was given a fine weekend. and i need the money; im nearlt short of first & last for 400$ worth of rent, which means i cant even look at 500$ places. i can, however, afford 450$ which is not so bad and i guess i could borrow 100$ from someone if it came down to it, considering my efforts. so 20$ today would sort of go towards living expenses right now and i guess i just.. dont care. i also have to call hydro because i have a past due notice im hoping doesnr translate to final notice? im past due on mt past due and even making the phone call seems daunting. my mornings have become battlefields, mental acrobats of havinf set a plan - even a simple task and fighting myself for several hours about doing it or why or for what purpose. i commend myself, sadly, on the three consecutive days at the library last week. thats actually unheard of in my world, getting up, getting ready and goinf out at almost the same time for three days in a row. then it was the weekend. and now im here. and the weeke d didnt bother me. it didnt cause this, or maybe it did but it doesnt feel like it. im glad to have spent time with him in such a positive way but i guess i have a looming feeling of "well tomorrow i know i wont see him" and ill work out my day alone and eat alone and sleep alone and have all this time because i barely have wifi and no cable and no tv and no movies. its not his fault though. its mt fault. he doesnt have to share his time eith me because i couldnt manage to have wifi. or that i sold my tv. it would be best for me to do the things i planned today. i also havent began cleaning or packing any of my things. i could use boxes. but i kind of want to sleep; i didnt sleep well last night and felt ljke i was up most of the night, having slept alone, and being woken up pretty uncemermoniously at 630am. he explained he was up until 3am working on his project and managed some niceties but dropped me a block from my apt for no real reason. i do scorn myself for not taking initative. these tasks are really fucking simple and crucial to my well being but ill comfort myself with "well, its only this time of day, i can still do this and this later" and its such a poor cop out. i could do it now. the two hours ive been sitting here, couldve done it. but i didnt and i honestlt probably wont and that really makes me such a bucket. its hard feeling down about your depression. but i guess unfortunately im going to start this day again in a few hours and im sure ill be much better off.. or atleast well enough to move from my bed.