#probably tomorrow at this rate
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man I love playing skyrim
it's too bad that instead of doing that I've spent two hours waiting for xlodgen to finish running while I play several rounds of spider solitaire and have an existential crisis to hozier
but eventually I'm gonna have a great time playing skyrim
#probably tomorrow at this rate#this is... the third time running xlodgen#I don't care if it still looks bad after this time#whatever it looks like is what I'm playing with#that's not true if it looks really bad I'll undo the things I did this time#and rerun it#and play with it only looking sorta bad#I can't get the distant landscape to stop looking too dark#the mod author only says 'if you change the settings the distant lods won't match the nearby terrain' to peoples' questions about it#and like sir they already don't match#that's why we want to know about adjusting the settings
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Hello there!
I've been a huge fan of your art of Seb and Clora here on Tumblr for quite some time now. Maybe a year? Idk time is weird aksbjs. Anyway, I'm an artist myself, and I was just wondering, put simply, whats your art process? Like how you shade and color and stuff.
Anyway, have a nice day! And uh- sorry if this is awkward sksbdn.
DAMN youve basically been here since day 1 THANK YOUU😭 im glad you like my stuff!! and ur not awkward at all!!🥹💖💖 and i actually posted a timelapse of my process on twitter not that long ago, so ill post it here as well!
as you can see seb takes me the longest LMAOO hes such a menace for me to draw still...and i dont even think seeing my process helps since its just so much trial and error and warping until it looks right BAHAHA (this is from like a month ago and i ALREADY think seb looks off here too 💀) but my process is super simple, i just colour and cell shade on multiply and then i add a grain texture on soft light 10% at the end. i dont rly do anything fancy for colouring, bc i used to over-render my art and make it really complicated, but now im a fan of just having it look kinda...flat? if that makes sense LOL. i like it aesthetically AND its also easier. OH also something i add to the end of almost all my pieces is this auto-action from clip studio assets which basically adjusts the hue/saturation/brightness. here's an example of what the original flat colours look like vs. when i add this filter:
even if you dont have clip studio the same effect could be achieved with just manually tweaking with the hue/saturation levels afterwards, but i like this filter just cuz its easy and makes the colours more how i like them HOPE THIS HELPS💖💖
#ALSO UNRELATED TO THIS ASK BUT NEXT CHAP WONT BE OUT TOMORROW SORRY probably tuesday at this rate🙇♀️#i forgor that not only do i have to write this long ass chap but also editing these long ass chaps takes a while too#ask#one of the first asks i ever got was asking for a timelapse but i didnt even know how to do that back then#i just recently turned on my timelapse feature in clip studio LMAO its cool#i have another one on my twitter that i didnt post here too maybe ill post it her eventually
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haha
it is SO rich for the jgy critical crowd to insist that it's the jgy stans who are being weird and defensive given /gestures @ all of this. like what's the opposite of defensive 🧐 because that's what this is.
as i said to someone else earlier tonight, i'm manifesting the capability to climb through these anons' phone screens so i can chase them through their houses with a nerf gun. every little foam projectile will include a relevant printed out page from the EXR translation. probably with highlights and notes in the margins. maybe some frowny faces for emphasis.
anyway this is why i'm insane
#salty peak sect 🧂#i'm going to bed. maybe people will be less cunty tomorrow#probably not tho#also i don't WANT to block this confessions blog because i like the people who run it#and i enjoy snooping on fandom drama that doesn't involve me. i mean who doesn't#'i don't ray' you're a liar. yes you do. everyone loves to snoop on drama that doesn't involve them#anyway at this rate i think i'm going to have to block this blog just because it's currently besieged by a cohort of fun ruiners#and even tho it's tagged 'anti j!nguangyao'#all of the posts still end up in the regular fandom tags anyway 🥲 i am not looking for them#they just show up whenever i go into the tag looking for new fanart or fic recs#edited to add: also. jgy's watchtowers ARE demonstrably different from wrh's supervisory offices#there is so much evidence in the text demonstrating how they are different#but i suppose if you're already this committed to interpreting everything he does#as being the actions of a man who is just as corrupt and evil as wrh and jgs#then it doesn't matter what evidence from the text we put in front of you
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have i posted this very good shot yet
because if i have you're seeing it again, you're welcome
#squirrel plays datv#dragon age: the veilguard#davrin#today i reloaded every conversation with him to record them all#and man these romances are the slow burns to end all slow burns aren't they#can't wait to see how it ends#probably tomorrow i'll get there at this rate; if i do his.... i wanna say fifth????? personal quest first
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friends....... after all the crybaby antics and moments of utter panic......
we've finally landed on page 20/20 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
there's still some definitions to add in (some of which I still have to read something for lol), a short conclusion to write and then a whole lot of editing and polishing and probably shoving certain parts into different places ahead of me but EY!!! THIS IS A KIND OF VALID PAPER NOW!!!!!
#🥹🥹🥹#at this rate I can be like “stupid paper I ban thee” tomorrow probably!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉#I can't thank all of you encouraging me and dealing with my antics enough#special shoutout to sophia for keeping me accountable with deadlines#this was THE WORST FUCKING PAPER I'VE EVER HAD TO WRITE!!!!! PERIOD!!!!!!!!!!!!#and it truly is one of my most lacking ones but you know what? all things considered the fact that I /have/ a paper??? more than enough#fucking achievement actually because the amount of times I was THIS close to quitting??? unparalleled#simon.out.#academic shitposting
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omg tmk asuna-chan
#our favourite vitamin girl lives!!!!!!#s a v e me asuna-chan this week isn’t very nice so far#i still have like 300 samples to weigh and slot and n o t nearly enough beakers and time save me asuna-chan#my [insert test] equipment is failing s a v e me asuna-channnnnnnnn#at this rate im probably gonna have to ot till the sun rises tomorrow aaaaaaaaaa#s a v e m e a s u n a - c h a n
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The Others (Part 4)
For the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge). A continuation of The Others, immediately following part 3.
Thursday morning I walked into the kitchen and saw Sarah holding a knife.
I had woken up early—or so I thought—feeling surprisingly well-rested given how long it had taken me to fall asleep. For a long time, I had simply sat on the edge of the bed and tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened, and failing that, remembered the food Ellen had brought earlier. There were fried potatoes again, and a slice of apple pie. I ate in darkness, remembering the candles in the drawer, but not daring to light them, and feeling that, in any case, darkness was the safer option. My headache had returned, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I dropped the necklace in my backpack, then found my pajama pants and a first aid pouch with some pain reliever. Then I lay awake for what seemed like hours, trying to decide on the best course of action.
Stick to the objective, I imagined Gina saying. But what was the objective? Would I be able to escape, let alone make my way back to civilization? Would it even be worth trying to get the kids out as well? Strange as they were, they seemed nice enough, and it felt wrong to simply leave them in such a place, though I couldn’t see any help for it.
Suddenly it occurred to me that this might all be a test. We’d always known there would be one, before we became full Lightbringers, and now—there was a moment of brilliant clarity. Of course I was being watched; they were always watching. And of course I wouldn’t be able to rely on my powers. Could I prove myself worthy without them? Could I stay calm in the face of chaos and confusion? Could I open the eyes of the blind with only my words? I was grasping at straws now, but it was enough. The idea sent a thrill through me, followed by a wave of relief. At last I felt myself start to relax and soon drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to the sun streaming in through the window. The house was quiet, and for a moment it all seemed so normal that I wondered if I hadn’t dreamed up the events of the previous night. Then I tried to move and instantly felt sore all over, almost like I had a bad sunburn on top of my already aching muscles, and found that the headache I thought was gone had come back with a vengeance.
I took some more pain reliever and tried to meditate with little success, then settled for lying still and taking deep, calming breaths. Finally, the pain subsided enough that I could get up and start looking through the clothes Ellen had brought. There were two long skirts, in reddish-brown and gray, three button-up shirts, in faded yellow, pink, and white, a large apron, long socks, caps in various colors and styles, and a number of smaller items I assumed to be undergarments. I chose the white shirt with the brown skirt, then brushed my hair as well as I could and tied it back, embarrassed as I felt how greasy it was, before making my way to the kitchen, where the first thing I saw was a child with a knife.
There was a moment of panic, but I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to start a fire.”
She didn’t look up. She was crouched in front of what I realized was an old-fashioned wood stove, the door open, a small pile of crumpled paper and broken twigs inside. In her other hand I saw what looked like a metal rod. She held it close to the pile and quickly ran the knife down its edge a few times, sending out showers of sparks. A few moments later, I saw a small flame.
I quickly looked around to see if the others were safe. David and Elizabeth were sitting at the table reading. The cat was perched on a shelf above them, glaring down at me. James was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s your brother?”
“Out getting more wood. Aunt Ellen isn’t home. She had to leave early this morning to go to the Coopers’ and probably won’t be home ’til late. We’ve already done our morning chores and had breakfast.”
She kept her eyes on the fire as she added more sticks. David and Elizabeth smiled and said good morning as I sat down at the table, but immediately went back to their books. I couldn’t help noticing that they seemed less open than the day before, as though they were now as nervous of me as I was of them. I felt a twinge of satisfaction at the thought that we were playing on level ground for a change, then realized this was wrong. I told myself that I didn’t want to scare children, and I certainly wasn’t afraid of them. I was here to help them, and their aunt had given me the perfect opportunity. Although the more I thought about that, the more I felt anger rising up within me, and for once I wasn’t afraid of it. Of course I would never hurt them, but she couldn’t have known that. It was irresponsible, neglectful even, to leave them in my care.
Before I could get too worked up, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on light thoughts—tolerance, empathy, compassion—and as I repeated to myself that I was going to help them, I felt my mood start to lift, as fear and anger were replaced with a sense of calm, collected benevolence and magnanimity that the Lightbringers were known for.
The feeling lasted only a few seconds before James came in and dropped an armload of wood by the stove.
“I guess that should be enough for now,” he said, then looked at me. “Good morning.” And then, “Oh! What happened to your eyes?”
I suddenly felt self-conscious as they all looked at me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why, are they red?”
They nodded.
“Did you have trouble sleeping?” asked Elizabeth.
“A little,” I answered, hoping they wouldn’t press further.
Fortunately, they seemed to accept this, only suggesting that I drink more water and try to rest later. I considered asking how they had slept and whether anything unusual had happened the night before, but decided not to press my luck. Now it occurred to me that they had clearly been up for some time.
“What time is it?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized it was a stupid question since they probably wouldn’t have a clock, so it came as a surprise when Sarah looked out the window and promptly answered, “About ten-thirty. We were just about to make lunch.”
“We were going to make chili,” added David, casting a somewhat dejected glance at a pot on the counter, “but we forgot how long the beans have to cook for, so that’ll have to wait until dinner.”
I looked at the pot, and then to the stove. It seemed dangerous, as well as wasteful to use so much firewood for one meal.
“Maybe we could just eat them plain,” I suggested, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“Uncooked beans are poison,” she informed me very seriously. “They have to soak overnight and then come to a full boil for at least half an hour before they’re safe.”
I tried to contain my shock as I mentally added food poisoning to the long and growing list of dangers outside the city.
“Oh. Well, you know,” I said, “we never had to worry about that in the city. There you can just order whatever you want from a machine and have it come out fully cooked in a minute, just like magic.”
The children looked politely interested, but not particularly impressed.
“We know,” said Elizabeth.
“You do? How?”
“The others told us.”
I couldn’t help staring as I tried to understand what she had just said. I waited, but she did not elaborate.
“Well, we’ll just have to figure something else out,” said Sarah, setting the pot on the stove. “We still have some bread, and jam, and we might have enough eggs for French toast.”
As they began discussing this, I heard the sound of something approaching outside, and the next minute, the conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Before anyone could move toward it, I stood up.
“I’ll get it,” I told them, ready to act as the responsible adult, even as my heart started racing at the thought of meeting more people.
I opened the door to find a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, dressed all in black and holding a large wooden crate. Behind him stood a horse-drawn cart that looked like something out of a history book. He was, of course, shining with the same light as the others, a fact that was no less irritating today than the day before, but which I was now determined to ignore. Still, this came as less of a surprise than the fact that he looked strangely familiar. He seemed surprised to see me as well, and held my gaze a little too long.
“Ah, excuse me,” he said finally, “but is Miss Hall at home?”
“She left early for the Coopers’,” said James, suddenly appearing behind me.
“Already? It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” the man asked, then, without waiting for an answer, glanced back at me and added, “You all managing alright on your own?”
“We’re okay,” James said. “We were just talking about having some lunch.”
“Well, maybe this will help. Eggs, milk, and butter,” he said, setting the crate in the doorway, “as well as some of your aunt’s books I’ve been meaning to return. Tell her thank you for me.” He hesitated a moment longer, then gave a quick smile and a nod and said, “Well, guess I’ll see you all Sunday.”
“What’s happening Sunday?” I asked James once the door was closed.
“Church,” he answered. Then after a moment, “You are going, aren’t you? Everyone’s going to be there.”
I froze. It was a trap and I knew it, but in that moment, my desire not to offend them overrode every other instinct. I was just about to say of course, I’d love to come, when he seemed to remember something.
“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to.”
With that, he turned and hurried to put the books away, leaving me standing in the hall in growing confusion. By the time I returned to the kitchen, I found Sarah already cutting bread, while David and Elizabeth took dishes and utensils out of the cabinets and drawers. James set out a few ingredients and put the rest away before going back outside. He returned a few minutes later with a small brown paper package which he set on the counter, then started setting the table.
I felt like I should do something, but since I didn’t know anything about cooking, I contented myself with supervising as they worked.
At last, the meal, such as it was, was ready, French toast with butter and three kinds of jam. The children gathered around the table, and as I had observed the previous day, didn’t immediately sit down, but remained standing a minute as they repeated the words of an evidently familiar prayer. It was strange, and might have been almost amusing to hear them address their god as though he were actually present and listening, if there wasn’t the smallest fear in the back of my mind that it might actually be true. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought as they spoke, their light seemed to glow a little more brightly. Fortunately, the moment passed quickly.
“What’s your aunt doing at the Coopers’?” I asked once we had all sat down.
“She’s a midwife,” said Sarah.
“A what?”
“She helps deliver babies.”
“Oh.”
I said nothing, but felt my heart race as I considered the implications. Of course they would have babies. Where else would the children come from? What was more, apparently they were born with enough regularity to justify employing someone just to deliver them. I remembered Ellen’s words from the previous day; they had lived here for two hundred years and somehow not only survived, but actually grown in population. They probably had no concept of birth control, let alone genetic testing or prenatal screening, and I shuddered to think how much needless suffering and death there must be as a result. Of course there was death in the city too, but with rare exceptions, it was by design, something that was carefully managed, planned, chosen. The idea of leaving life and death up to mere chance seemed almost as incomprehensible as leaving them up to God, and for all their apparent light, the idea of anyone choosing this sort of life seemed to be another undeniable proof of deep mental and moral darkness.
I gasped as I realized another thing.
“We should be quarantined.”
The children looked at me in confusion.
“She shouldn’t have gone,” I explained. “It isn’t safe. You don’t know—I could be carrying something—frankly, it’s reckless and irresponsible—” I realized, too late, that it was probably inappropriate to be telling them all this—it wasn’t their fault, after all—but they needed to understand the dangers. They seemed shockingly unbothered.
“We knew you weren’t sick,” Sarah said with a shrug.
“But you didn’t. Not really. See, there are these tiny organisms that are too small to see—”
“We know what germs are,” James said flatly.
I realized I’d better quit while I was ahead, and bring it up with Ellen later. I recalled that she’d also mentioned the children’s mother had died. I wondered what had happened to her, and if there might be a discreet way to raise the subject sometime. At the moment, however, I decided on another question.
“What other jobs are there around here?”
They immediately began listing off every occupation they could think of. I learned to my surprise that while most everyone had some sort of garden, most of their food, as well as their clothing, came from animals—cows, sheep, goats, pigs, rabbits, turkeys, chickens, ducks, geese, and quails—and raising animals was apparently considered a full-time job. There were a few normal jobs—doctor, nurse, mechanic—but most were related to the manufacture of some sort of product—carpenter, blacksmith, potter, stonemason, glassblower, leatherworker, and at least three different jobs related to the manufacture of clothing. There was also the butcher, the brewer, the beekeeper, the bookbinder, and people who made paper and ink and soap. Their father and uncle, I learned, were away—they couldn’t say exactly where—getting salt and fish. The list seemed to go on and on, but finally, they came to an end.
“I feel like we’re forgetting someone, though,” James said thoughtfully, finishing off his toast.
They all thought for a moment.
“Is there a leader?” I asked.
There was another moment of silence before Elizabeth shouted out, “Oh! We forgot about the pastor!”
“That’s it!” said James. “I think that’s everyone.”
“He’s not exactly in charge,” David explained, “not the same way as a governor or a president. He can’t make up laws or anything like that. But he is responsible for the church here.”
I wondered exactly what that entailed, but before I could ask any more questions, Sarah announced that the beans were ready. Now that everyone had finished eating, David and Elizabeth cleared the table while James went to the counter and began dicing up the other ingredients, an onion and bacon from the package he had brought in earlier. In a few minutes, he fried them up and added them to the pot, along with a small jar of tomato sauce, a jar of corn, and some peppers.
Before long, the dishes were done and the children began discussing what they would do next.
“I’m making more lights,” David said.
James nodded. “Good idea. I want to see if I can’t split and stack the rest of the wood Jordan dropped off last week.”
“I don’t know,” said Sarah, looking at her sister, “but I was thinking we could surprise Aunt Ellen by doing the laundry.”
I listened in silence, feeling somewhat uneasy as it occurred to me that I didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next or how to make myself useful. I was absently running my fingers through my hair when Sarah suddenly looked at me.
“Oh! Do you want to wash your hair?” she asked. “You could have a bath too, if you like, but we’d need to get more water.”
If I had known how much effort it would take, I might have said no, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get clean after nearly a week of not bathing. And so Sarah went to light a fire in the wash house, while I followed the others out to the well, where they grabbed buckets and started hauling water. As we ran back and forth over and over again, I quickly grew tired and increasingly irritated as their seemingly boundless energy and undaunted cheerfulness began to grate on me. Again I wondered what sort of life this was, and how they ever managed to do anything when such simple tasks took so long. It was more than half an hour before everything was ready.
There was a large wooden tub, and above it, a simple shower, and Sarah gave me a bar of soap, shampoo, and towels. The arrangement was undoubtedly primitive, but nice all the same. The room was quiet and fairly dark, the only light streaming in through some high, narrow windows. I didn’t realize just how tense and sore my muscles were until I sank into the warm water, and then I just sat there for I don’t know how long, until the water started to cool. Then I bathed quickly and washed my hair once, then twice before rinsing off. The shampoo felt strange, and didn’t lather up like normal shampoo, but it seemed to do the job.
When I stepped outside, it was clear that some time had passed as the shadows were starting to grow longer, and though the woods now appeared bright and almost welcoming, they were beginning to feel a little too close for comfort. I guessed it was around two, and wondered how long it would be until Ellen came home. Before I could think much more about it, I saw James coming from the side of the house, looking tired and dirty, but grinning widely.
“Wood’s done!” he announced, stopping by the makeshift sink to wash his hands and face.
I followed him inside, where we found David at the table, pouring a thick liquid into a long, narrow container filled with rushes, Sarah putting wet clothes through some sort of wringer, and Elizabeth mopping the floor.
“Well, I guess we have managed pretty well on our own today,” James said as they finished up what they were doing. “What do you suppose we should do next?”
“We could always get a head start on tomorrow’s lessons,” Sarah suggested, then laughed as the others all made faces. “Alright then, how about a game?”
The others agreed. James and Elizabeth immediately left the room while Sarah and David finished putting their things away.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
“The living room,” said Sarah. “It faces west, so there’s more light in the afternoon.”
I couldn’t see that the kitchen looked any darker now than it had a few hours earlier, but I said nothing as I followed them to the living room, where the others were seated on a rug in front of an open fireplace, looking though the contents of a basket. To my right I saw a large window overlooking the road and a field, in front of which sat a couch and two large chairs around a small table.
“What sort of games do you play?” I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.
“We have checkers, chess, dominoes, cards,” said James, pointing to different boxes. “There’s also Bible Bee and finish-the-hymn and answer-the-question-as. Or we could read a story.”
“What did you do for fun in the city?” asked Elizabeth, looking up at me.
My mind momentarily went blank as I racked my brain for activities that would appeal to children, figuring the honest answer of scroll the socials and sleep probably wouldn’t cut it. The most exciting thing I could think of was the displays, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to explain that to them yet. Fortunately, I quickly snapped out of it and jumped into tour guide mode.
“There’s lots of fun stuff to do in the city,” I said. “There are shops and restaurants and museums where you can learn about anything you want, and every building has its own gym and a pool where you can go swimming, and just outside the city there’s a nature preserve with a park people can visit to see all the plants and animals.”
“Were there any libraries?” asked Sarah.
“Well, we don’t really have many print books,” I explained. “They take up a lot of space, and they can get lost or damaged. But we have digital libraries you can access using a phone or computer, and you can borrow any book you like, as well as movies and music.”
“Any book?” David asked skeptically.
I hesitated a moment as the conversation from the previous day came back to me, but then I remembered—
“As a matter of fact, we do have Bibles.”—Kept strictly as historical artifacts, but no need to tell them that.—“We even have churches.”
Not that I knew anything about them, but they did exist.
The children looked unconvinced.
“We’ve heard,” said Sarah. “Mr. Walther said they all chose to change with the times, and hardly anyone goes there now, and the ones that do don’t read.”
I was spared from having to answer when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving outside and turned to see a hooded figure coming down the road. David followed my gaze and looked out the window.
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “It’s Nan!”
“Who?”
“Our great-grandmother.”
Before I could say anything else, they all ran out into the hall. I rose to follow them but stood frozen where I was, listening as I heard the door open and all of them talking at once, then shuffled forward and looked out to find them gathered around a woman in a long, dark green cloak carrying a covered basket.
She was old, there was no doubt about that. Her gray hair peeked out from a ruffled cap, and she made no effort to hide her wrinkles, but despite her great age, she stood tall and straight and seemed to be in full possession of her faculties, and her light was clear and strong. It struck me, from her manner and the way the children addressed her, that she must be a very important person.
“What’s the matter?” James asked her. “Has something happened?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” she answered, “but I was hoping to speak with your aunt.”
Now David noticed my approach and gave me with a bright smile before turning back to the woman and taking her hand.
“Nan, this is our friend from the city, Miss Bree.” Then turning to me, he said, “This is our great-grandmother, Mrs. Eleanor Hall.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said awkwardly.
“Welcome,” she said. She looked me over with an inscrutable expression which quickly turned to concern. “What are you doing up? Come, sit down, sit down.”
She ushered us into the living room and had us all sit down again before asking, “Have you eaten yet?”
“We made French toast for lunch,” said Sarah, “and there’s chili on the stove for dinner. Would you like some tea?”
“I would, thank you. Tea will go nicely with this apple bread from your Aunt Rachel,” she said as she uncovered her basket.
As Sarah left the room, she turned to me. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“I’m alright,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice my nervousness.
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but seemed satisfied for the moment.
“Good,” she said with a brisk nod. “You seem to be settling in well.”
I didn’t know what to say, but fortunately she didn’t seem to expect a reply.
“We got our chores and lessons done,” David told her, “and we were just talking about playing a game.”
“Excellent,” she said. “And what have you decided on?”
They began going over their options again. I tried to listen but found myself unable to concentrate any longer, as though a sort of wall had fallen around me, leaving everything outside in a muffled haze. It occurred to me that whatever force was blocking me from connecting was now interfering with basic cognitive functions as well, and I felt almost certain it had something to do with this new visitor.
The haze lifted slightly after a few minutes, when Sarah returned with the tea and the bread was sliced and distributed, and soon they decided on a game that involved building a tower of long wooden blocks, then removing them one by one and placing them on top without causing the whole thing to collapse. It was almost absurdly simple, and I doubted such a game could have held the interest of any child in the city, but it was clearly one of their favorites. In between turns, I found myself continuing to drift in and out of focus, as the conversation generally focused on happenings in the town, and I wondered that they seemed to enjoy each other’s company so much. It was strange—everything was strange, I really did need to find another word to describe things—especially considering I hardly felt comfortable interacting with people my own age half the time. I wondered if this was just how families were here.
Now that things had settled down slightly, I found myself growing bored and wishing I had my phone. I’d barely thought of it in months. The tech had seemed almost laughably obsolete. But now I would have given anything…
Still, it was something of a relief to be able to just sit and watch without having to join in too much. They played for a couple hours, until the sun hovered over the horizon. From time to time, they would glance out the window toward the road. Still, Ellen did not return.
They had just taken a break so Mrs. Hall could start a fire in the hearth and light the lamps, and Sarah could check on the chili and make some fresh tea, when at last we heard the sound of horses. This time James was the first to look out the window.
“It’s Pastor Hansen and Dr. MacDonald,” he said. “What could they want?”
“Oh! You don’t think something’s happened, do you?” Elizabeth asked, looking worriedly from her brother to Mrs. Hall.
“Don’t fret, dear,” said the old woman, patting her hair, “I know what it’s about.”
She stood and went out into the hall, and a minute later we heard her open the door and greet the visitors with, “You can come in, but she isn’t here.”
There were a few more words exchanged that I couldn’t quite catch, and then, “Well, there’s no sense in running out at once. Will you stay a few minutes for some tea?”
The next moment, she returned with two men. The children quickly rose to greet them, and I followed their example a half-second later. I was once more introduced as their friend from the city, though I was almost certain that the introductions were entirely for my sake, as they undoubtedly already knew who I was.
“Well now,” Mrs. Hall said to the children, “it’s almost time for supper. Why don’t you all go on and set the table, and we’ll be along shortly.”
They nodded and ran off, and Mrs. Hall invited the three of us to sit down and talk a while.
“So,” began the doctor, once the tea was poured, “how are you feeling?”
“I’m alright,” I repeated, trying to smile as I kept my eyes fixed on the cup in my hands, grateful for the fact that we weren’t sitting directly across from each other as the combined light of him, the pastor, and Mrs. Hall was now nearly blinding, as they sat facing the window, fully illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. I felt a migraine coming on.
It must have shown, because he refused to drop the subject. He asked a few more questions about how I’d been sleeping and what I had eaten before coming to the question I’d been dreading for the past two days.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“I–I remember—I don’t know,” I stammered. Fortunately, I was holding it together, but just barely, and mentally kicking myself for not having an answer prepared, and wondering exactly how much they already knew.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, then a moment of silence before the pastor spoke.
“We understand this is difficult for you to talk about,” he said in a low voice, “and you don’t have to tell us if you’d rather not. But you should know that you’re not alone here.”
Before he could say another word, I jumped as I heard a sound outside, and the next moment we heard the door open and Ellen call, “I’m home.”
I thought there was something unusual in her tone. The others seemed to notice too, as the doctor and pastor looked at each other and Mrs. Hall was up faster than I would have thought possible for someone of her age.
“What is it? Is Anna—?”
There was something like a gasp, followed by a long pause, and then—
“Anna is fine. She had a healthy baby girl a little after one. But I’m afraid we’ve had quite an eventful afternoon.”
Ellen came in looking more upset than I would have thought possible for one of them, though upon seeing us all gathered, she seemed to collect herself a little. It was somewhat alarming to see her so unsettled, and now the rest of them as well, but almost comforting in a way, to have proof that they were only human. Even so, their lights continued to shine as brightly as ever, not dimmed in the slightest by this new disturbance. I most definitely had a migraine now, and took the opportunity to quietly excuse myself from the room.
“Well now, what’s happened?” I heard the pastor ask.
“Julia Thompson.”
“It seems that Mrs. Thompson has been rather busy lately,” Mrs. Hall said dryly. “What exactly did she do now?”
I didn’t hear any more as I practically stumbled into the hall, now half-deaf and almost completely blind, and feeling like I would be sick. I just barely made it back to my room before collapsing onto the floor and curling up in a ball, willing my hands to stop shaking and my breathing to return to normal.
I don’t know how long I stayed there. I might have even passed out. Then suddenly, it was over. The attack seemed to pass just as quickly as it had come on. The nausea subsided, my hearing and vision returned, and I found myself standing, once more, just outside the living room, where everyone, including the children, now gathered.
“I have a question,” I heard Elizabeth say.
“Yes, what is it?” Ellen asked.
“Has Aunt Julia gone mad?” she asked seriously.
I risked a peek into the room and saw that for a moment, Ellen almost looked as if she might laugh. There was a long pause before she finally asked, “What makes you think that?”
“Well—I mean—I don’t know—”
She looked helplessly to her sister, who sighed and spoke up.
“It’s because yesterday at the quilting party, she was saying things that sounded just crazy. I mean, we all know what she’s like,” she glanced to her siblings, who all nodded in solemn agreement, “but whenever we were near her, she started going on and on about a stolen ring, and jewels, and how you and Father…”
The adults all exchanged glances. Ellen seemed to grow a bit pale, while Mrs. Hall turned quite red.
“There aren’t really any jewels, are there?” Elizabeth asked.
“As a matter of fact, there are,” Ellen said, her voice somewhat strained. “Some family heirlooms that had been in your aunt’s family since before the town was even established, some of which, by all rights, should have gone to your cousin when she comes of age. But you remember your uncle had that accident a few years back that left him unable to work all summer, and since your aunt was too proud to accept charity, as she called it, she insisted on selling them for food. Needless to say, your uncle was not pleased when he found out, but he felt better once your father told him we had them and would keep them for your cousin. As for the ring—”
Her voice faltered, and she looked to Mrs. Hall.
“Don’t even think of giving it to her,” she exclaimed vehemently. “She has no right—”
“I know, I know, but…oh, I am tired.”
Now the pastor spoke, his voice low and even. “Mrs. Hall is right. The ring is yours by right and by law, there’s no question of that. And even if there was, she would be the last person with a claim to it. But now,” he looked to the girls, “public slander is a very serious charge. Do you know if anyone else heard Mrs. Thompsons’ accusations?”
“I’m sure everyone did,” Sarah said. “She was hardly trying to keep her voice down. And Maggie Shaw said to her face that it was an awful shame to speak such nonsense, and she didn’t believe a word of it. You can ask Mrs. Hansen about it, or Cecily, or Joanna. They all heard her.”
The pastor nodded. “I’ll do that.” Then, to Ellen, “I have to apologize. I see I’ve been quite negligent in my duties. I might have guessed something like this would happen—”
“You’re hardly the only one,” the doctor interjected.
“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Hall. “No doubt we’ve all let far too much go for far too long, and it’s high time something was done about it.”
With that, it seemed a decision had been made, and in short time, the pastor, the doctor, and Mrs. Hall had taken their leave and gone out into the night. Ellen once again told the children to run along to the kitchen and that she would be along in a minute. For some time she simply stood in the hall, her eyes closed, an unreadable expression on her face. When she finally looked up, she seemed to have regained some of her old energy.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"I'm alright," I lied.
"Good," she said briskly. "We've had a long summer, but they say the first frost will be here any day now. There are a few times in the year when we need all hands on deck, and this is one of them."
I found out what she meant the next morning, when I was awoken before sunrise by a loud knocking at my door. Ellen entered without waiting for a response and threw a jacket and gloves onto my bed.
"Get dressed quickly and put these on. We're heading out to the west field."
The field was about a fifteen minute walk away, and I learned we would be spending the morning picking fruit.
"It's late enough in the season that a good deal of it has been brought in already, but we can't afford to let anything go to waste," Ellen explained.
A handful of others were already there. A few acknowledged our arrival, but fortunately no one seemed to want to talk much. The one exception seemed to be when the pastor and his family arrived a few minutes after us, and he greeted everyone with a shout of, "This is the day that the Lord has made!"
And everyone responded in unison, "Let us rejoice and be glad in it!"
"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof!"
"The world, and they that dwell therein!"
I grabbed a basket and a ladder and moved to the very edge of the field, where hardly anyone else was yet.
A couple hours later, I had filled what seemed like dozens of baskets full of apples, pears, peaches, and nectarines, as well as some odd bumpy red berries I couldn't identify, and still the empty baskets kept coming. By now the field was filled with workers, and every single one, as far as I could tell, had the same unearthly glow about them. I stayed on the very outskirts of the field and kept my back to them as much as I could, and when I had finally gathered all the fruit there was, I slipped behind a large tree and simply waited until it was time to leave.
As the trees grew bare, the others also slowed down a bit, taking longer breaks and talking more. One group in particular was walking about and stopped directly in front of my hiding spot.
"Has anyone seen Mrs. Thompson?" I heard one woman ask.
"I don't expect we'll be seeing much of her anymore," said another.
"Did you hear there's going to be a trial?" exclaimed a third.
"Yes, though I can't see much point in that. We all know what happened."
"Oh, you don't know the half of it!"
"All the same, these things must be done properly. Matthew 18 and all that."
"I don't expect she will change, though."
"Can't say I do either. But we can hope."
"And pray."
"And pray."
Listening to them talk, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, whoever she was, and thinking they were taking things a bit far, over what likely as not had been only a few careless words.
The signal to leave finally came a little before noon. The rest of the day and most of the next were spent in cleaning, sorting, peeling, dicing, cooking, baking, drying, and canning. No more was said of Mrs. Thompson, but a good deal was said about Mr. Campbell's prognostications for the coming winter, the state of the Longs' herds compared to the Johnsons', and whether we'd need to buy more blankets. Finally, on Saturday evening, the temperature dropped, and we looked out to see frost covering the window panes. Winter had arrived.
***
Sunday morning, I woke to an empty house. It was strange. The night before, I had excused myself from their nightly gathering as usual, but as I lay alone in the darkness, I toyed with the idea of joining them for church after all. My mind kept going back to James’ invitation, followed by his sudden change of mind. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed and the more my curiosity grew, until I was nearly ready to go out and tell them that I would be there, whether they wanted me or not. All the same, it was something a relief to find that the decision had been take out of my hands, and I now resolved to make the most of my time alone.
It didn’t take long to realize, however, that this would not be the nice, relaxing break I’d been hoping for. After a week of busyness and chatter, the silence felt unnerving. I continued to feel as though I was being watched, found myself jumping at the slightest noise, and nearly screamed when I opened the door and felt the cat slip in past my feet.
I found breakfast—an omelet, pickles, and something like hash browns—waiting on the table, ate quickly and washed up as well as I could, and was just looking at the books in the living room when I was startled by a knock at the door. I froze and instinctively ducked behind the couch as the thought of meeting any more people, especially alone, set my heart racing. There followed a long enough silence that I began to hope I might have just been imagining things again, when suddenly there came another knock. I took a couple of deep breaths and finally forced myself to peek outside the window, and in an instant, any apprehension I had felt evaporated, leaving only the most profound confusion.
There was a woman, early thirties, blonde, average height, utterly normal except for how completely out of place she looked here. In the first place, she was wearing pants. That alone seemed so striking that it took a moment to register that I could look at her without wincing.
She caught my eye and waved nervously. I waved back, then hurried to let her in.
“So, you must be our latest guest,” she said warmly, offering me her hand. “Julia Thompson.”
“Bree. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
And it was. Though I might have hoped she was someone from the city come to track me down, the knowledge that the were normal people around here after all was a relief beyond words. And the fact that she was now at the center of the town's gossip made perfect sense.
“Well,” she began, “I suppose you’ve heard all about the little incident a few days ago.”
“I…did hear something about a ring.”
She grimaced. “It was all just a terrible misunderstanding, but I do feel bad about it. I was just coming over to see Ellen and apologize for the whole thing, but”—she peered past me with a look of mild disappointment—“I guess she’s not at home?”
I shook my head. “But, as long as you’re here, would you like to come inside?”
I realized as I said it that it might not have been proper to invite guests into someone else’s home, but I was aching for some company. Maybe she was too, because she smiled brightly and followed me into the kitchen.
It was fortunate there was still a small fire in the stove, and the kettle was still hot. I found some cups and the tea without trouble and laid a few things out on the table. For a moment we simply sat in silence.
“So, how are you finding the place?” she said at last.
“It’s…certainly been interesting,” I offered diplomatically.
She laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Nothing like the city, I’m sure.”
“No.”
She laughed again. “Imagine coming from the city and waking up at the Halls’. I heard they don’t even have water these days. I think I would just die of shock.”
I stared.
“You mean…it’s not all…”—I waved a hand around vaguely—“like this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, like I said, it’s absolutely nothing to the city, but we are somewhat civilized. I told my husband before we got married, I refused to live in a house where I had to draw water, and he made sure we had a working pump and decent plumbing. But some people just prefer to live in the past.”
“I guess so.”
I couldn’t help staring at her clothes. Upon closer inspection, they might have been handmade, but they looked a good deal more normal than what I was wearing.
“It’s not a religious thing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, eyeing my long gray skirt, “though some people might like to say it is. The truth is, back when the town was founded, they only had one seamstress, and I guess it must have gotten to be too much for her, because one day she pitched a fit and declared that if people wanted pants, they could make them themselves. She finally relented a bit for the men, but the ladies just had to make do until a new seamstress came along. These days, well—”
She took a sip of tea.
“Well, you know how small towns are.”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
“People will look for any excuse to gossip, and eventually you decide, well, if I’m never going to fit in, I might as well give them something to talk about.”
The visit lasted about half an hour longer before she finally looked out and announced that she would have to run along and catch Ellen some other time.
I saw Ellen and the children coming down the road ten minutes later, and with them was a younger woman dressed all in black. I cleared away what remained of the tea and decided I would tell them about my visitor another time.
I heard the door open, and the next minute, Ellen popped her head into the kitchen and whispered, "Bree? Someone here to see you."
I followed her into the hall and came face to face with the woman in black. I felt her staring at me. I kept my eyes fixed on her dress until my eyes could adjust a little to the light. There was a long moment before she spoke.
“Bree? Sam told me it was you, but I couldn’t believe it.”
Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. As I met her eyes, it was all I could do not to scream. It was Jess.
[part 6]
#inklingschallenge#team chesterton#genre: intrusive fantasy#theme: admonish#story: incomplete#and late as usual#i'll try to post part 6* tomorrow#*not a typo - there's going to be about a 2 week time jump#will probably go back and write part 5 eventually but at this rate it could be another couple years
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LvL is coming back?! I'll have to reread to refresh my memory.
it is!!! I ALSO had to reread it to refresh my memory so you’re not alone lolllll
#it makes me so happy to know someone is excited for it 💞💞💞💞 thank you very much anon 🥺#at this rate i will probably finish drafting the chapter tomorrow and have it edited and ready to publish by the end of the week 🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻#anon#love vs. loyalty au
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#forgot how many hours the flannelette bedding takes to dry 😅😅😅#so even though I started ages ago I'm still waiting for the tumble dryer to work its magic#do literally all the preparation I can do for tomorrow#I made dinner#I picked an outfit#I sorted my bag#at this rate I can probably justify getting up at 7:45 😆#but ill probably be sleeping at 00:45
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I'm starting to see ppl talk abt updating their artfight pages and at first I was like what why it's still months away and then it hit me that by months it was two months and now I'm just silently sweating as my anual side project to remake the eternal gales refs and give them all icons comes back to haunt me
#rat rambles#oc posting#well I mean the good news is that all the staliens are already done and Ive already started on the human kids#the bad news is that theres still 5 more refs for me to remake and 9 icons if I decide to commit to that#the only one Ill probably force myself to do is sprinkles since shes the only stalien that doesnt have one and I dont want to leave her out#the human kids might just not get them tho especially since theres other characters Id like to make refs and icons for too#not as many newbies to the field this year which is a good thing since I do not have a lot of space left for new characters lol#Im probably going to take it easy this year in terms of my goals for artfight since last year I crashed and burned Hard#hopefully Ill have the time and motivation to draw a decent amount but if I dont Ill try not to be too broken up about it#especially since Ill probably burn myself out a bit doing the last minute ref rush lol#its not necessary especially since all the guys who needed the new refs most got theirs but Id like for them to be on the same page#I also went ahead and cleaned up my page a lil bit to make my life easier in the future#I should probably update bios and stuff but I dont feel like it Im too tired#tomorrow Im definitely going to need to clean some more as I have been for nearly every day#I mean guess thats why Im here in part#last week of pet sitting tho so soon Ill be back home again#Im not sure if Im excited or dreading it cause while I miss my family I also have been rly enjoying a house to myself#like its not necessary easy to do all the chores and stuff but it's a lot easier to do said chores when Im alone#and Ive actually been waking up at reasonable times too like not having my mom floating around is doing wonders#its almost making me rethink my insistence that I couldnt live alone but I definitely think itd get to me in the long term I need people#I just wish there was a better middleground since having people constantly in the house stresses me out so bad#it leads to me hiding out all day in my room and that's just not good for me#but its not like I could live by myself even if I wanted to#at this rate I dont think Ill ever move out but lets not think abt how much worse that could be for me thats future me's problem
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I spent so much time working on the GGX art book captions that I just assume everyone else is borderline sick of looking at them too and get surprised when one of the old scans starts getting notes again haha
Gonna clean up the formatting on some of them and slip 'em into my queue tomorrow.
#textpost#Ahhh it's gonna be GREAT waking up tomorrow and not having to worry about deadlines you guys have no idea#I know I haven't shut up about that but man after 3 months... Actually probably longer than that#I've had a lot of projects back to back lately lol#Hmmm maybe I'll play some more Hades... Man that game's fun#Need to beat it before 2 comes out but at the rate I play games at well... I should probably just savor it anyway rofl#Spent a lot of this evening reading up on 3D printers. My PLA spool's supposed to get here on Wednesday#I haven't assembled the printer yet but I don't want it sitting around getting dusty for 5 days before I can use it#Speaking of dust I gotta wipe down my turntable#(and put something other than sheer heart attack on there s2g)
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not PD-related but I think I'm gonna get into DXM. I don't know, I've been totally sober for almost 18 years and I'm sorta sick of it!
I know you're not "supposed to" use drugs to cope with emotional problems, but I'd be lying if I said I actually cared. that's narcissism-related, I guess.
My grandiosity gives Me a really strong, constant sense of "it wouldn't happen to Me." I wouldn't get hurt. I wouldn't be mistreated. I wouldn't get traumatized. I wouldn't get addicted. I wouldn't overdose. so on and so forth.
of course, I plan on taking precautions (120mgs only! first plateau!), but I just feel totally immune to ever becoming addicted to anything, even though I logically understand that addiction can happen to anyone, no matter how mindful they are.
that aside, like I said, I'm just tired of being sober 24/7. I feel and go through so many bad things, it'd be nice to get some proverbial off days from it all.
I would try alcohol, but I'm under 21. there's easily accessible alcohol in the house, but I don't think I could drink enough to get drunk without it being obvious that I took some.
I sort of want to probe the subject of 18-year-olds drinking with My mom, see if she'd willingly give Me some. "oh it's so weird that 18-year-olds can't drink. not much cool comes with turning 18," something coy like that.
I'd also absolutely want to try xanax--both recreationally and for My actual anxiety--but I have no easy access to that. My mom was prescribed it a few years ago, but I don't know where she stores it or if she even has any more.
My neighborhood has a local drug dealer (multiple, I think?), but I don't know if his products are safe or not. I'd only really feel safe buying from someone if I knew someone else who bought from them as well.
with that in mind, delsym is the only recreational drug I can access without it being too suspicious.
I also have benadryl, but I think it'd be obvious that I was using it to trip since, 1), I don't usually need it, and 2), it comes on those little sheets, which would make it obvious whenever I used them. plus, I've heard benadryl trips are pretty scary. I already have paranoid delusions, I really don't need "the hat man" on top of that.
since the DXM I have is liquid, I think it would be less obvious when I used it, especially since nobody else really uses it.
not only that, but I actually do have a cough. I would say it's because of My asthma, but it's worse than what I used to deal with and post-covid, so I'm pretty sure that it's actually long covid.
regardless, I could easily lie and say that I'd been taking it for My cough. I'd just have to hope that the "teen medicine abuse" warning on the side wouldn't give her the "wrong" idea.
of course, I don't even know if I'd like it or want to do it again, so I may not even have to go through all that. but if I do, at least I have an excuse. thank you, chronic respiratory diseases!!
#personal#drugs#I don't know when I'm gonna try it actually. maybe tomorrow? or next week. but probably within the next few days#not sunday though. that's when the simpsons airs. I want to be sober for simpsons sunday. I love simpsons sunday#one concern is My tachycardia since IK DXM can further raise your heart rate. but maybe a relatively low dose will dodge that?#also I know autistic and psychotic people both tend to react differently to being high. so that's a thing#I only hear really good things or really bad things about getting high while mad. hoping for the former!!
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was abt to go out to the gym but the adhd referral service finally emailed me to say they need me to call them to book an appointment and it says in the email they don't make appts via email but I'm DEAF I Know they know that bc its on my fucking patient form UGHHHHH
#emailing back to ask if they can make an exception in these circumstances.. ive waited SEVEN MONTHS for them to contact me#im not falling at the first hurdle.#if that fails I'll have to rly nicely ask my flatmate to call them for me and I can sit there with her to pass on any information 🥹#but health services fucking hate it when someone else makes a call on ur behalf so they might not allow that either#why are these systems so inaccessible#I cant even go anywhere in perspn bc its completely online smhsmh#its fine. its fine im going to.the climbing gym and theyll probably reply to me tomorrow im not going to cry thinking abt it#AHHHHHHHHHHH im rly glad they did get back to me.tho i got rly scared when i saw theyd indefinitely stopped accepting applications#even tho i submitted mine ages ago.. i was worried it would take over a year to get through the queue at this rate#i rly rly rly hope its not too painful a process i just want a diagnosis so i can try medication for this shit man#and i hope the med waiting time isnt as long as they say it is bc. another seven months. 🥹🥹🥹🥹#uaaaaughh ok im out of here#.diaries
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MY LAST CLASS GOT CANCELLED TOMORROW LET'S GOOOOO
#squiggles rambles#My teachers are getting sick at an alarming rate#That's actually probably bad news for the rest of us we all practically live in the same room all day every day#But we'll cross that bridge if we get to it#for now#I ONLY HAVE TO BE THERE FOR EIGHT HOURS TOMORROW WOOOOO
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sleepy........I go curl up into a ball now okay bye 👋👋👋
#capri talks#I managed to stay up like most of the day which is wild considering I got uhhhhhhhhh. 3?? hours of sleep 🤠 how do I keep doing this#I mean I'm not saying I'm going to sleep YET.... but I probably am at this rate 🛌 💤💤💤💤💤💤#I will answer lovely asks and things later/tomorrow 💜 mwah night night
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It is hard to focus on being sad and anxious when you have gotten to pet 7 (seven) new cats in one day in exchange for baked goods, 5 (five) which were long hair, and 3 (three) which were MAINE COONS.
#still processing work related grief because current employees are meeting with CEO to try and get the clinical director fired#but talked with another former employee and management is really so toxic at this point#i don't know if the site will ever really recover#it was just a whole mess#and i learned even MORE crap management did while the union negotiating was going on#like claim they'd met with the union reps when they ghosted them#also roommate says he wants to get a dog when we eventually move into a house which i am Not Thrilled With#admittedly that probably won't happen for a decade at this rate but I don't like dogs and he doesn't clean anything#speaking of need to remember to reclean the soup pot he cleaned tomorrow because there's still gunk on the bottom
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