#but that means I need examples and I didn’t think that through the last ten times!!!!!!
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Hello dear Hearts 💖 , Flowers 🌸 , and Stars 🌟!
Welcome to the tumblr page for info on my paid readings so you can get some insight before you go to request a reading from me! Before requesting a reading, only two things are required from your end:
Paypal
Email
Feedback
As long as that's possible, then feel free to book a reading with me! I am currently offering both Astrology and Tarot based readings, and more info on them can be found below! If there is a deck you'd like to request, you can check one out over here.
Astrology Readings
Big Three (Sun, Moon, Rising): $5
Personal Placements (Rising through Mars): $15
Full Natal Reading: $35
Love Chart Reading (looking at you as a lover and what is possibly compatible with you): $15
Career Chart Reading (what paths are compatible with you?): $20
Healing (How to use your chart to overcome wounds, grow, strengthen, and heal): $15
↣
Solar Return Readings Coming Soon. . .
Tarot Readings
General
Overview Spreads
Yearly Forecast, 12 Card Spread: $35
Next Six Months, 6 Card Spread: $15
Identity
Unmasking (a personality reading): $10
Zeus & Hades (we'll go through your vices and virtues): $15
Messages/Guidance
Hot Chocolate (can focus on a specific area of your life and keep it short and simple, not much depth): $10
Warm Blanket (will let them deliver whatever messages they want to focus on, will pull more advice and oracle): $15
Tucked In (will pull your current situation and where you are now, as opposed to where they'd like you to be/what to focus on): $20
↣
Relationships
Identity
Aphrodite (we discover what type of lover you are): $5
Eros & Psyche (what type of friend/partner would be good for you): $10
Around the Corner...?
Peel Back (taking a look at the general energy within you and around, seeing if you should go within or go out and flirt!): $5
Guess Who! (a look at the next person coming into your life, romantically or platonically): $15
Thelma & Louise (let's look at the dynamic within this relationship! Can be done for established or platonic relationships): $25
Cupid's Arrow
Stolen Heart (general look at who your divine love will be): $25
Tale as old as time (we'll see what the journey to meeting each other will look like!): $35
Honeymoon Suite (select three options): $40
Their personality
Possible career
Their love language
Their hobbies
First impressions
The pursuit
The confession
The first date
The first kiss
The honeymoon
The relationship dynamic
What you both love about each other
What you're both like as parents
Your children
↣
Career
Stumbling
Business Casual (just need a vibe check for what's going on professionally? I got you): $5
Odin's Thunder (if you need some help figuring out what to do next, you should get this one right here): $15
99 Problems (love your job but struggling with it? We'll get some healing for you): $20
Dollar Signs (not sure what type of occupation is compatible with you? Let's find out!): $20
↣
ETC
Custom
1 Question: $5
2 Questions: $10
3 Questions: $15
Things To Remember / Form Access
If requesting an astrology reading, remember that I will need your birth information.
You may request multiple tarot readings, but the more you request the longer the ETA will be
If you have a question, feel free to reach out to me here or via email, but everything regarding your reading once submitted / requested will be done through email
If you're unsure of what readings I don't do and what my boundaries are, you can check my disclaimer page!
Always have a good day :)
You can access the form right here to request a reading from me!
#paid readings#astrology readings#tarot readings#natal chart readings#me not knowing what else to tag but it's pretty :) so its okay#I will upload previews at some point#but that means I need examples and I didn’t think that through the last ten times!!!!!!
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A former BioWare Design Director has tweeted his take on the recent BioWare and SW:TOR news. tweet compilation, as it's interesting and illuminating insight:
"My take on the SWTOR/BioWare split
For SWTOR: This is a Good Thing
For BioWare: This is a Big Loss
A thread:
My point of view is someone who worked for BioWare Austin on SWTOR from 2009 as an Assistant World Designer through 2022 as Design Director (with some Anthem, Shadow Realms, and <NDA> years sprinkled about).
BioWare Austin (BWA) was its own studio for many years, founded in order to make that game. MMO’s are expensive, y’all.
We didn’t really collaborate with BioWare Edmonton (BWE) on the dev side much, because there was no need to (with some exceptions – they had built the original on-rails space shooting component, for example).
As a business, in this model all revenue and expenses roll up into the greater whole (BioWare), which then roll into EA’s Group, and so on.
After many years, this model shifted and changed, for a large variety of reasons I won’t get into. BWA would no longer be a separate entity, but under the same core leadership as BWE – One BioWare (BW).
What this meant realistically was you had a boxed product business that had been tried and true for years, combined with a live service MMO business that wasn’t really understood by the boxed product folks. Arguably by EA either, to be fair.
You see, MMO’s can be fairly predictable if they run long enough. We knew the SWTOR business very well. We knew how to turn every dollar invested in the game into several more. SWTOR was (and continues to be) a very profitable business, with loads of heart behind it.
But an older game isn’t sexy. It’s not new. It doesn’t get marketing orgs excited or social media teams jazzed. It’s a ‘legacy game’, despite the mountains of income coming in that other franchises are built off of.
And you FELT it, as a member of the team. It’s a fantastic dev team, filled with incredible talent. How then, with such a close-knit team, did you always feel less-than?
Well, just take a look around. Look at BW’s social media posts and count the proportion of SWTOR game/fan/anything posts compared to ME or DA. Remember that BioWare 25th anniversary book? The beautiful 328 page recollection of BioWare’s history, and celebration of all franchises?
For a game like SWTOR that had been live already for 9 of those 25 years at the time of publication, how many pages, dear reader, do you think had any SWTOR imagery or content at all? Ten. Teams notice this. They feel it, and it feels like shit.
Does BW despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – they don’t understand it, and it was someone else’s game. Does EA despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – it’s a legacy live service, and again, was someone else’s game.
As a dev on SWTOR, you feel like your game is a burden to all of the layers above you, but you persist. You put so much heart and passion into the game, and you thrive on the fans and tremendous partnership with LucasFilm.
So to bring us back to current news, imagine a team excited about a game, with incredible plans, that have felt ‘less-than’ by their own studio and company for years, being unleashed.
Being part of an org that KNOWS the MMO business, and understands those player communities and the incredible stories and connections they form.
This feels like an exciting new chapter to me, and I’m optimistic about what this means for that team and the game. SWTOR is, to the best of my knowledge, the longest-running Star Wars anything, ever. It’s a special game and I’m so happy to see where the team takes it.
As far as BW, it would have certainly be in their best interest as a business to maximize exposure and support for SWTOR publicly over the years, since the SWTOR revenue has allowed for the…unusually long…dev cycles to continue for the last several games.
But now without SWTOR, there will be less places to hide heads, R&D, and time. You’ve got blockbuster single-player experiences hitting high Metacritic scores with…2-3 year dev cycles? And the BW pattern has been…double? Triple that?
I think it will be interesting to see how the EA/BW relationship continues to evolve in this new world. /end"
[source]
#sw:tor#dragon age: dreadwolf#dragon age 4#the dread wolf rises#da4#dragon age#bioware#mass effect#next mass effect#anthem#video games#long post#longpost
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To stay awake
ai-less whumptober 2023
day 2- exhaustion
fandom-batman
TW: non fatal injury
summary- Tim is not exhausted
ao3
masterlist
Tim was not exhausted. Nope. Not one bit. Was he on his fifteenth cup of coffee, sure. Had Alfred switched it to decaf five cups ago, sure. But that didn’t mean he was exhausted. No sirree. He could stay awake for another ten hours. No, thirteen hours! Which was why it was perfectly fine that he was on this mission. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
And as soon as the goons stopped resisting arrest. He would go home to Wayne Manor and maybe, just maybe rest for a bit.
“Red Robin!”
Tim turns, but it’s too late. He feels a bullet hit his shoulder and then he’s falling over.
Okay, maybe he is a bit tired. Usually he could keep fighting with a measly bullet wound. He was starting to feel a bit faint and blackness was eating away at his vision. Which, rude. Why would it want to eat his vision? He needed that. How could he read case notes and watch Death Note without it?
And, hey, would you look at that. That was his brother Nightwing hovering above him. He looked worried. Tim hoped the mission had gone well. Batman would be a real pain, albeit a brooding one, if this drug ring wasn’t taken down.
“Tim!”
“Names,” he muttered.
The face above him twitched and said something else Tim didn’t quite catch.
And then his shoulder was on fire.
What the stinker-stacker-bubblegum-wrappers was Nightwing doing! Was he trying to murder Tim with pain? Who cared about staunching the bleeding if it caused him this much pain?
And now they were moving him. Great. More pain. What fun.
Maybe now he’d listen to Alfred and actually get some sleep.
Yup, sleep sounded nice.
****
Tim woke up to the beeping of his alarm.
Wait? Hadn’t he broken his alarm clock when he’d accidentally thrown it across his room when it woke him up last Tuesday? Had someone already replaced it, because he sure hadn’t.
He lifted his arm prepared to accidentally send this one to the same fate as its predecessor, when his arm twinged painfully.
Oh, right.
He was shot.
He opened his eyes and looked around. His alarm was in fact a heart monitor.
The door of the medical room opened and his dad Bruce came through carrying a tray with tea and what Tim assumed was breakfast.
“Oh, Tim, you're awake.”
“Hey, Bruce.”
“How are you feeling, bud?”
“Fine.”
Bruce gave him a look and Tim barely resisted fidgeting. Bruce remained silent. That’s alright, Tim could play the silent game too.
Finally, Bruce sighed. “When was the last time you slept, Tim?”
Tim furrowed his brows, “just now.”
“Actually slept, not just fell unconscious.”
“Umm…”
“You need to take better care of yourself, Tim. You could get seriously hurt if you go out without enough rest. You already did.” Bruce said, gesturing towards him.
Wow. What a hypocrite. Bruce could do whatever he wanted and put himself in whatever danger he wanted and the rest of them just had to deal with it. But Tim goes and skips a little sleep to finish a few cases and suddenly he was in the wrong. It wasn’t fair. Tim tried really hard to get everything done right. He had to prove himself. But Bruce was never satisfied. Tim was always doing something wrong.
“I’ll do better.” Tim muttered.
“This isn’t about doing better, Tim, it’s about taking care of yourself. And… I know that I’m not always the best example, but I don’t want you to get injured because you were following my example.”
Tim stared at him. “Alred!”
“Is something the matter, Master Tim?” Alfred said coming in quickly.
“I think something’s wrong with Bruce.”
Bruce sighed. Alfred turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.
“Dick’s been coaching me.”
Ah, that made sense.
“Tim!” Dick said, running in. “I heard you’re awake. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Can I get you anything? A book? No wait, that’s what Jason would want. A computer? Wait no, we need you to rest, not do more casework.”
“Leave the poor kid along, Dickiebird.” Jason said, shoving past him. “How are you feeling, Timberlina?”
“I’m–”
“And don’t you dare say fine.”
Tim huffed in exasperation. Time for redirection. “Where’s Damian?”
“He’s at school right now, but he said to tell you that you better not end up dead.”
That was probably as much concern as Damian would share.
And as they started discussing upcoming events, bat and Wayne related, and asking him if he wanted to join their trip to the zoo later that week (it was originally going to be just Dick and Damian but they had already roped Jason into going), and Bruce looked at him fondly, Alfred standing over by the door with a slight smile, at the fact that Jason and Dick were still here instead of back at their apartments, Tim thought that maybe, just maybe, these people his family might actually care about him beyond just Red Robin.
Or maybe that was just the exhaustion talking.
Yeah. That made more sense.
It was just the exhaustion.
#ailesswhumptober2023#batman#Tim drake#bruce wayne#Jason todd#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#day 2#exhaustion#injury tw#batman fanfiction
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I believe there are multiple timelines in ST (probably seven) and a time-loop. And that the different articles on Will’s rescue, among other things, prove it.
But this time I want to talk about this article in particular.
“Byers’ mother, Joyce Byers, alleges that Will was the subject of a secret government program run by the Hawkins National Laboratory”
So, at least in this timeline, they say that Will was a subject of the program. But from this photo it’s clear that he didn’t live at the lab like El. He must be 11 here, same age he’s in this photo with his friends.
So, if he was part of the program, but he didn’t live at the lab - no shaved head etc, what does that mean?
Then I thought about what @chirpsythismorning and heroesbyler discussed a few days ago here
They talked about Mr Clarke’s line: the difference between an experiment and other forms of scientific investigations (screenshots by Heroesbyler)
Notice the numbers: 10 through 12. Eleven and twelve, the number associated with Will. Hm. When did we also see these numbers, in the same classroom?
In that moment, it seems that El sacrificed herself, while Will was actually dead in the UD and Joyce and Hopper were reviving him. No matter if they are in the same world or in different dimensions. Will and El are always connected.
Now back to the experiment.
In a controlled experiment (the one we know El is part of), variables are being controlled by the scientists, in order to answer a question. This type of experiment always includes at least two groups- a test group and a control group used for comparison.
A control group is the group in an experiment that doesn’t receive any change in the variable. The group is left as natural as possible and used as a control to see if there is a change from the normal results.
In conclusion: I think that Joyce saying that Will WAS part of the program + the photo that proves he didn’t live at the lab + how quickly they made Will’s fake body, could mean that he was in fact part of the control group.
And what about Henry?
I could be wrong, but I wonder if Henry was also part of a control group, when he moved to Hawkins. We still don’t know if Virginia knew Brenner before the “demon” started to haunt their house. But she had secrets for sure. She didn’t tell Victor about Brenner. So, it is possible that she knew him. And IF she knew Brenner before Hawkins, maybe Brenner was already spying on Henry.
This would be a parallel with both Will and El. If Henry was part of the MKUltra program, but in a control group (no torture or isolation tank, he just lived his life - but he mentioned doctors, so maybe they were the lab scientists) would be a parallel with Will. But then, for whatever reason (maybe Hawkins or the Creel House are like Rose Red or the Island in LOST) he developed incredible powers and so the nightmare began, and he became a prisoner. Like El.
We’ll see.
I have a lot of questions. For example: when Will was kindapped and taken to the very dimension Brenner knew Henry was, why didn’t he want to save Will and ask him what he saw? Why did he want to leave him there to die? Wasn’t he surprised that he survived for so long?
It just doesn’t make sense to me. Control group or not.
It doesn’t make sense that they just wanted to leave Will there to die (agent Frazier: And if they find the boy? Brenner: That’s not gonna happen)
But Will could have important info on Henry or that dimension. The Demogorgon killed hunters, and that lab guy, Shepard. He didn’t last ten minutes in the UD, but for some reason these scientists weren’t curious to know how a small, scared kid survived a whole week there alone, and even found a way to communicate with his mom.
This is so suspicious. I need an explanation.
#will byers#el hopper#st theory#st analysis#henry creel#the upside down#martin brenner#stranger things
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Desire lines, part 2
Kuroo x afab reader
Series synopsis: Against his wishes, Kuroo must hire a personal assistant. You’re not exactly the right person for the job, but it’s a job, and you need the money. Inspired by Robert Macfarlane’s definition of desire lines in landscapes: “paths and tracks made over time by the wishes and feet of walkers, especially those paths that run contrary to design or planning.”
Chapter word count: ~2.4k
Chapter tags & warnings: none afaik
Note: I said this was going to come out on Sunday, but I became obsessed and couldn’t help finishing early. So you get it early.
Series masterlist
part 1 | part 3
2. A foot in the door
“OH! OH! What about Takata?” Bokuto yells excitedly, “He’s responsible!”
Akaashi immediately shoots him down. “I don’t think Takata would want to quit his stable accounting job to do something like this, Kou.”
“Hmm…” Bokuto knocks his head with his fist. “OH! What about Iwasaki? She just quit as one of the MSBY managers recently and she’s really pretty.”
Akaashi shoots him down again. “Iwasaki quit the manager position because she’s 7 months pregnant and wants to stay at home with the baby after it’s born.”
Bokuto pouts into his drink. “You think of someone then Keiji.”
Akaashi wracks his brain, but, “Sorry Kuroo, I don’t think we know anyone that fits the bill.” He smiles apologetically, “But if we do come up with someone, we’ll definitely let you know.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Kuroo waves him off, “Tell me what you two have been up to?”
And that’s how ten days fly by with no solution in sight.
Two weeks hadn’t felt quite so urgent when he’d asked for suggestions from Akaashi and Bokuto on day one, but now he’d asked everyone around him for help — Kenma, Yaku, Kai, Daichi…even Lev and Tsukishima — and still nobody fitting had materialized.
You’d think it’d be an easy task to find someone who is 1) trustworthy, and 2) looking for an easy job. There must be thousands of people in Tokyo who meet both those criteria, but strangely, none of his friends knew any of them.
Trustworthiness was actually the easier requirement. Pretty much every potential candidate his friends came up with could be trusted to keep the deal secret from Nishida and the office gossips. Surprisingly, the more difficult requirement has been the job itself. Kuroo didn’t understand at first. After all, this would be perfect for someone just out of college, for example, hoping to save up some money while they search for a more permanent position. But, as Daichi reminded him, most of those bright, young college graduates are looking to break into a new field, and that means meeting and working with people in that field, not spending all day at a dead-end position, even if it’s an easy job with a great salary.
With less than four days left until Nishida’s deadline, the panic is starting to bubble up.
Kuroo dunks his head under the water one last time and steps out of the shower. Wrapping a towel loosely around his waist, he pads to the kitchen for his morning coffee — well, noon coffee at this point.
As if on cue, the phone buzzes on the counter as he walks by. He answers without glancing at the screen, using his shoulder to hold the phone against the side of his face. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Iwaizumi.”
Kuroo breaks out in a smile. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“I’m in town for a few days. Want to grab coffee?”
Kuroo might be short on time to resolve this whole assistant issue, but then again, tackling the problem head-on hasn’t been working, so maybe some time away to rethink his approach is just what he needs. Anyway, Iwaizumi doesn’t come back to Japan too often these days. “Of course! Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll text you the address. I’m already here talking to a friend so drop by whenever,” Iwaizumi tells him before hanging up.
An hour later, Kuroo steps through the front door of the cafe. He immediately spots a hulking Iwaizumi facing away and talking with someone he doesn’t recognize. Like Iwaizumi, they’re dressed comfortably in blue jeans and a tank top, soaking up the sun spilling in from the huge windows.
Kuroo grins as he walks up behind Iwaizumi, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Didn’t think you were the type to pick someone up at a cafe, Iwaizumi.”
Iwaizumi whips around, stammering, “I- no- it’s not like that!” Until he registers who it is. “Oh, Kuroo,” he grumbles, thoroughly unamused.
You giggle at the dozen expressions that flitted across Iwa’s face in that split second. Turning to the stranger, you introduce yourself. “I’m pretty sure his partner would have a few things to say about that. Iwa and I are friends from college.”
Kuroo shakes your outstretched hand. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Iwaizumi and I were volleyball rivals in high school.”
You nod to him as you stand up. “Well, volleyball rival Kuroo-san, it’s nice to meet you. And Iwa, I’m glad we got to catch up a little. Let’s chat again soon?”
Iwaizumi’s arm flies out to block your way. “You’re leaving already?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to impose…”
“You’re not imposing. I’m sure Kuroo doesn’t mind.” Iwaizumi doesn’t bother looking to him for confirmation.
Kuroo shrugs, “Up to you.”
“Such enthusiasm,” you deadpan, but sit back down. “You two go on and order then, I’ll guard our table.”
Iwaizumi gets up to keep Kuroo company and you take the chance to look Kuroo over. Standing next to Iwa, Kuroo looks a touch taller than him (even accounting for the messy hair) and less broad, but still clearly athletic. In the warmth of the cafe, he takes off his bomber jacket, revealing the simple long-sleeve shirt he’s wearing over a pair of black jeans. He definitely knows how to highlight his lean frame, well-built arms, and…you should probably stop ogling his ass.
You quickly tear your eyes away when they spin around. (There was a small tussle at the register as they each clamored to pay. Predictably, Iwa won out.) They’re both engrossed in conversation as they walk back to the table, allowing you to bury your face in your coffee with minimal embarrassment.
You watch amused as the two sit down. You’ve only ever seen Hajime like this with Tooru. Perhaps it’s because Kuroo and Tooru have a similar impish energy. You listen to Kuroo push and prod at Iwa playfully, asking after him and tormenting him in the span of a single phrase. Iwa meanwhile endures the teasing like a veteran, snapping back a few of his own gruff retorts that make Kuroo cackle like a madman.
All the while, the conversation weaves in and out of business.
“Well, work has really kept me busy, but I’m doing fine! How long are you in Tokyo this time?”
“Only a week,” Hajime complains, “but I should be back again soon for a few months to set up the new training regimen.”
Kuroo hums into his coffee. “Think I could get you to help with a JVA promotion?”
“You ask me that every time. But sure. How’s Kenma?” Iwaizumi grunts.
Kuroo wipes some condensation off his glass. “Kenma’s fine. He’s had his nose stuck in a new game for a while now.”
Hajime nods. “And your grandparents?”
“Ah, yea, they’re also doing fine.” His voice sounds lighter than before, but you’re probably just imagining it. You look over at Iwaizumi. Or maybe not, because a soft crease forms on Iwa’s brow.
But as you expect, Iwa doesn’t push him. He lets Kuroo lead the conversation back to work and to his current predicament. “After today, I’ve still got three more days to find someone, so my luck’s not entirely run out yet.”
A thoughtful look crosses Iwaizumi's face.
Oh no, he’s not—
“Weren’t you just telling me you were looking for something temporary?” Iwa asks you.
“Uh, well, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…”
Iwaizumi leans forward, gesturing toward you but addressing Kuroo, “They would be a great asset to the JVA, you know.” Kuroo’s attention swivels to you. “They moved to Japan to get into more literature translation, you know poems, novels, stuff like that, but they’ve got experience with all kinds of Japanese-English translation. We’ve worked together before at post-game interviews and conferences and I’ve always been impressed by their competence and professionalism. Gets along well with the players too. That kind of expertise must be in high demand for an organization like the JVA.”
Turning back to you, Iwa adds, “It sounds like the position doesn’t include many responsibilities, and since you just moved here, this would be a great opportunity to earn some money while you work on getting your foot in the door with the publishers.”
You frown, eyes locked on the empty mug in your hands as if the foamy dregs might form an answer. He’s not wrong, but…
Kuroo eyes you appraisingly. If Iwaizumi is vouching for you, then you’re definitely trustworthy. And he can’t deny that having interpretation experience will come in very handy for the upcoming FIVB meetings, not to mention you definitely sound competent enough to type up some meeting notes. Plus, unlike his other prospects so far, it seems like working as his assistant for now might actually be perfect for your long-term goals…
“Sounds like a great idea!” Kuroo declares.
“…At least give me some time to think about it,” you mutter, intensely aware of their expectant gazes.
“Ok, but let me know by tomorrow night,” Kuroo replies confidently.
You shove another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, ignoring the milk that sloshes off the spoon and splashes back into the bowl. The texture is awful. The flakes are almost completely soggy and spongy after sitting untouched for the past few minutes.
Your mind is elsewhere.
You’d woken up way too early for a Sunday, mind plagued by Kuroo’s offer since the three of you parted ways yesterday afternoon.
You wash the soggy slime off your tongue with a sip of coffee — instant Nescafe, sadly, though you’re wistful for another latte or even an americano.
Maybe writing things out will help you think it through more clearly. You smooth out a piece of used scratch paper and turn it over to draw a simple cross on the page. On the top left, you write PROS and on the top right CONS.
First.
Under PROS, you write easy job. Kuroo made it clear that you wouldn’t have to do much. Aside from showing up every day and sitting at a desk, the only other thing you’d have to do is attend his meetings and type up meeting notes. Like Iwa said, that theoretically leaves you with a lot of time for your own things.
Sighing, you jot too easy? under CONS. An easy job isn’t bad, but it might end up becoming awkward if other people have different expectations of you than Kuroo does. What if his boss gives you extra responsibilities, or wants you to report to him on Kuroo’s schedule? The problem with this arrangement is that it’s vague and hence unpredictable. It may end up turning into a real, full-time job despite your understanding with Kuroo.
Moving on to the thorniest problem.
You add Kuroo under PROS. He’s undeniably attractive, and if Hajime is friends with him, then he’s probably a pretty good guy and a pretty good boss. Under normal circumstances, you’d be thrilled to have some eye candy around and possibly even a hookup at your fingertips, but—
You reluctantly write Kuroo again under CONS. But Kuroo would be your boss. That makes him 10,000% off limits. God forbid you hook up and things go south as they’re wont to do. You’d not only jeopardize your income, you might also jeopardize Kuroo’s job and his friendship with Iwaizumi.
Finally, by far the biggest pro, and you’d saved it for last.
MONEY. You underline it once. The salary is generous, more than generous. (You pull up your bank account balance for what feels like the hundredth time, hoping you might have read the numbers wrong the last 99 times. Nope, still the same.) You haven’t mentioned your dwindling bank account to anyone, but let’s just say you’re not feeling so optimistic now that you’ve been unemployed for four months. So unless you just happen to land a huge project (technically, anything’s possible) like, today (it’s still the morning, so…), with a big advance upfront (ok, that’s never happening), soon you’re not even going to be able to afford cereal and instant coffee.
Who are you kidding? You underline MONEY two more times in resignation. The longer you wait, the closer you’ll get to the point where you’ll have to take literally anything. There’s no way in hell you can turn this down.
You text Kuroo before you can change your mind.
His reply comes almost instantly: Perfect! You can start tomorrow. The address is…
Monday morning, you head into the office for the first time, thanking your nerves for setting your alarm too early and leaving the house with time to spare because figuring out the subway transfers during rush hour ended up being more confusing than you anticipated. Even though you left a half hour early, you arrive with only a minute to collect your thoughts as you ride the elevator up to the 38th floor.
A passing employee directs you to Kuroo’s office door. You smooth down your clothes before knocking quietly and waiting for a “come in.”
“You’re here!”
Kuroo steps out from behind his desk with a relieved smile and you thank the gods you spent the rest of yesterday and one full month’s rent investing in nicer officewear as your eyes travel up from his brown leather oxfords, up along his slim navy suit pants, to the matching navy vest cinching his waist, up the rolled-up sleeves of the white-button down shirt, up the gold polka-dot tie topped with a perfect windsor knot, all the way up to his golden eyes. His hair is still an absolute disaster, but it somehow works together, giving him an aura of charm rather than vanity. Yeah, your old, cheap, ill-fitting tops and suit pants would have been an embarrassment.
“Just in time, too. My first meeting today is in 15 minutes.”
He walks toward you, stopping to stand a little ways away as he continues. (Now that he’s closer, you realize the pattern on his tie isn’t polka dots, but tiny paw prints.) He holds out a hand toward toward the empty desk you passed on your way in. “Why don’t you get set up at the desk and I’ll grab you on my way there? After the meeting, I’ll introduce you to Nishida-san and a few other people around the office.”
He's just close enough that the spicy musk of his cologne tickles the edge of your senses. You’ve been here less than a minute and already you’re tempted to pull him in for a deeper lungful.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo angst#kuroo tetsurou x reader#hq x reader#froggy scribbles
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i dunno what i want you know what i like
Vote for Etho! Request a fic!
Beef has never really been nervous around Etho before. And he’s not nervous now, not really, because Etho is his friend of over ten years and Beef knows him too well to be truly anxious, but there is a new hesitance to his voice when he asks, “Hey, Etho, are you taking noteblock commissions?”
Etho glances up out of the chest he’s buried neck-deep in and blinks at him. “Noteblocks? I mean, depends what you’re asking for, but sure, I can break out the ol’ redstone box. What do you need?”
“I was just thinking, you know what my TCG shop needs? A jingle. So every time you buy a pack, you get serenaded with a little tune!”
“Oh, easy,” Etho says. “I’m a little busy right now, but I’ll stop by later today?”
“Great!” Beef says, beaming, his heart stuttering a little in his chest. “I’ll see you later!”
----
And, like, Beef isn’t nervous around Etho. That would be a little silly of him, all things considered. It’s just that so much has changed in the last year, and so many secrets have come up out of the woodwork, and Beef knows things about Etho now that he hadn’t before, even in all their years of friendship.
For example: now he knows what music means to Etho, and he almost feels like he’s intruding as Etho lays out noteblocks and redstone and fiddles with the notes.
“That sounds good,” Beef says as Etho frowns to himself over a note.
“No, it’s not quite right,” Etho says. “It’s—can you hear that?” He taps at it again, the note ringing clear through the air.
“Uhh…” Beef tries his best not to look clueless. “That depends what I’m listening for.”
“It’s like… brassy, or something. It’s ringing wrong. It should be more…” He hums in the back of his throat, then hits the block again. “But it’s like…” He hums again. It sounds virtually identical to before.
Beef nods anyway. “Oh, I see what you mean.”
Etho raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you?”
“Well, I-I hear what you mean, is what I meant to say. I have an ear for music.”
Etho hums again—not melodic this time, just in acknowledgement as he fiddles some more with the blocks. “Aha! I think I’ve got it.” He hits the block again, and it sounds just the same as before, but Etho nods in approval. “You hear that, Beef?”
“Totally,” Beef agrees, totally lost.
Etho snorts. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”
“…I’m not gonna lie, it sounds exactly the same to me.”
“I guess enders just have better ears,” Etho says with a shrug, and it still makes Beef jump to hear Etho say it so casually after all these years of silence.
“Well, that is your guys’ whole thing, right? The music?”
“…Right,” Etho agrees, and the word is a little softer, a little sadder. He moves on to the next set of notes.
Beef feels kind of terrible about that, actually. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not music,” Etho says at the same time, interrupting him. They blink at each other. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, no, you go ahead—”
They stare at each other a little longer, then laugh.
“You go,” Beef says, gesturing.
“It’s not music,” Etho says again, turning back to his work. “It’s—we call it,” the next word that comes out of his mouth is not one Beef knows, or even one that he would know how to pronounce without vigorous coaching. “Music is just… the closest word you guys have.”
Beef nods. “You said it’s, like, family, right?” His heart is in his throat. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Etho being so open, and he’s not entirely sure how he should react.
“Yeah, it’s… everything they’re feeling, everything everyone’s feeling, and you can hear it, just this… this background symphony, almost, with all these different melodies and instruments coming in and out.”
“That sounds… Well, that really sounds like somethin’ special. I wish I could hear it.”
Etho smiles sadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Yeah, me too.” He hits the noteblock, adjusts something, hits it again, and moves on with a nod.
Beef stands back against the wall and watches him, a strange feeling in his chest. There are so many questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t dare ask them. He’s gotten this much, more than he’s ever gotten—it feels cruel to ask for more.
And then Etho, apropos of nothing, says, “Did you know I can smell light?”
Beef chokes. “Excuse me?”
“Light. I can smell it.”
“Huh.”
“Different light sources smell different.”
“Huh.”
Etho smirks at him, raising his eyebrows. “Did I break you? That doesn’t seem that bad, comparatively.”
“No, I… I just don’t know what to say to that!” He laughs. “Does the sun have a smell?”
“Sure it does.”
“What does a rainbow smell like, if a rainbow could smell like something? I imagine Skittles.”
“It kind of singes the nostrils.”
Beef laughs. “Oh, really? Are you all out of nostril hairs?”
Etho snickers. “Yeah.”
“Got none left.”
This whole experience, Beef decides as Etho finishes the lines of redstone and noteblocks, is incredibly surreal. Because, well, he’s never mistaken Etho for human, but he’s never heard him talk about it like this. Every word he’s ever gotten from Etho on his heritage has been hard-won, torn from between shaking lips after a decade of friendship and ready to stop the moment the ever-lingering grief in his voice became too strong to speak through.
There’s no grief in Etho’s voice as he laughs nervously in the wake of his first test of the full noteblock line. “I’m hoping it was lag, we got—we got seven people on, Beef!”
“Let’s try it again!” The jingle plays again, and Beef may not have Etho’s Enderian ears for music, but even he can tell there’s something wrong. “One more time?”
“Seven people on, Beef!”
Beef follows the signal, then walks over to the area where it had started to stutter. “It seems like this area here… something is a little bit off.”
Etho follows him over, looking over the redstone, eyes widening as he spots the problem. “Oh, you’re right! You’re right.”
“Ah! You see!”
“N-No, you’re wrong! It’s perfect, Beef!”
Beef grins, stepping back and letting the master do his work. “See! I told you I’ve got an ear for music!” He freezes, then, worrying he’s overstepped. “The rest of it seemed pretty good, though,” he tacks on, and turns around, ready to see Etho’s displeasure—but the expression on his face is nothing short of fond as he stands and wipes the redstone dust from his fingers.
“Okay, now—now it’s perfect.”
They run through the jingle again, and it doesn’t glitch or stutter once.
Beef meets Etho’s eyes and smiles. “Perfect.”
----
“Uhh, give me, maybe… thirty-two?”
Beef chuckles as he pulls his diamonds out of his ender chest and begins to count them. “Alright. Sounded very unsure about that. M’kay.”
“I wanna go high, but I don’t wanna be un-Canadian, you know.”
Beef pauses momentarily in his counting, then, because he knows now that Etho has never been Canadian a day in his life—and Etho also knows that Beef knows. He glances up at Etho, and Etho is looking down at him, and Beef recognises the look in his eyes, and that’s when Beef realises, oh, Etho is nervous too.
He stands and hands Etho his diamonds. “I’m giving you a tip.”
“Oh my—oh, I meant shells, Beef, but if you wanna give me thirty-three diamonds, sure.”
“Oh! Oh, you mean it’s less?” Beef laughs. “Nah, it’s fine, keep it. Knock yourself out. Go buy some shulkers—wait.” Beef just barely manages to catch the handful of diamonds Etho tosses at him. “You’re giving me change? Oh, you gave me a lot back. You gave me like half of it back?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
Beef puts the diamonds back in his enderchest. Etho hangs out a little longer as he cleans up the basement, and the jokes come a little easier, now, from both of them. Something here has shifted, and they can both feel it, even if neither of them points it out to the other.
Because Beef may not quite understand it and Etho may not actually be Canadian, and it’s not music, but it is family. And when Etho’s gone, and Beef’s up in his store, pressing buttons just to hear the jingle—maybe he understands it a little more than he’d claimed to.
#magpie feather quill#this one's under a cut because it got long#in my defence. i had a chance to write echoes!etho and i took it.#hermitcraft
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Competence, noun. The ability to do something successfully or efficiently.
Veda was plenty competent. She knew she could do whatever task Tim set - she could kick, punch, leap, whatever. But he didn’t seem to be looking for competence.
At least not physical competence.
It was… extremely frustrating, for one, because what else was there to be competent in? Veda was here to atone for all the messed up stuff her parents had done, not to play happy and practice “emotional intelligence” or whatever. And, really, she had plenty of that too, she just didn’t need it. Ever.
Veda struck the dummy with a kick that was maybe just a tad too aggressive, sending it flying into the wall. She was left panting in the middle of the training room.
Click.
Tim slipped the timer into his pocket. “That was sixteen minutes straight. Just so you’re aware.”
“I’m always aware,” Veda said, because she was, and he didn’t need to tell her it was late for her to know she should have been in bed hours ago. She was aware. She was competent.
“I was wondering if you wanted tea,” Tim said conversationally, as if it wasn’t two in the morning, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of some weird bat themed training room, as if it was a complete coincidence that they were both there. “Do you like it with or without milk?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” Veda said flatly.
“No milk, then,” Tim said easily. “Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen? We’ve got ginger biscuits, I think.” He began putting away the equipment Veda had spent the last hours cycling through. “Jasper always dips his biscuits into my tea. You’re free to do that too, by the way.”
“Okay,” Veda said, because what else could she say?
The kitchen was quiet. Tim was quiet. Veda hated that she was quiet.
“You know,” Tim began, then seemed to rethink a little bit. “You know, it’s kind of useless for me to try to tell you that everything is fine and you don’t have to worry, because frankly everything will never be fine and you’ll always find a way to worry. That’s just how living works.” He stirred his spoon around the tea - he didn’t even add anything, so Veda wasn’t sure what the spoon was for. “I guess, the important thing to remember, is that you’re never alone when you’re trying to fix something. There will always be someone there to help you.”
Tim put his hand over Veda’s. “I’ll always be there to help you.”
“But I don’t need help,” Veda said, but fuck, her voice was already wobbly, and so was her vision and she didn’t want to cry because she was competent and capable.
“Everyone needs help in some way or another,” Tim said. “I mean, I can’t cook rice for the life of me. Anything else is fine, but rice? Probably my worst enemy. I’d rather fist fight Bane.” Veda sniffled. “And heaven forbid anyone ever try to trust me to match a deadline. I need at least six different people around to remind me of the passage of time.”
“Those aren’t really problems though,” Veda said. “You don’t have to make rice. And you don’t have to keep track of deadlines either. You’re a billionaire, what are they gonna do about it?”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Tim said, waving his hand. “These are just examples, like, mundane stuff. Not everything is life-and-death. Sometimes the most daunting part of my day really is making rice.” Tim stared down at the tea. “Usually, though, it’s not even about what I can’t do. It’s about what I worry I can’t do. And I think that’s what’s bothering you too. Am I right?”
Veda didn’t respond.
Tim sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to tell you not to train. If that’s how you need to get rid of your extra energy, I get that. But it’s not healthy to be training around the clock. I just want you to be safe, okay?”
When Veda still said nothing, Tim stood, taking his half-empty mug with him and pouring the excess down the sink. He stopped beside her again as he made for the door. “Get some sleep, okay?”
It took her another ten minutes of staring at her cold tea, but Veda did eventually get up from the table. Her eyes were tired - from either exhaustion or emotions - and yeah, maybe Tim had a point.
Veda was competent. But she wasn’t omnipotent.
She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
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Could you maybe do 22 (falling asleep on the other’s shoulder) + 23 (carrying them in their arms) with the Peters? For example, Peter Three has been up for waayyy to long and his brothers help him out? Also I gotta say I really love your writing!!
22. Falling asleep on the other’s shoulder + 23. Carrying them in their arms
“I’m not really sure why you’re asking me to do this intervention, Peter. I’m just as much on that insomniac grind as he is; he’ll peg me as a hypocrite right off the bat,” Peter Two pointed out.
“Maybe not, okay, you don’t know for sure! He looks up to you, we both do! He’s more likely to listen to you than me, at least. Y-You can approach it as somebody who actually understands!” Peter One pleaded. “H-He’s really bad right now. He’s back on the coffee and the energy shots and those, like, hyper-caffeine patches. I don’t even know how long he’s been awake; actually I’m not really sure he knows at this point. He’s starting to get that look, like he had before.”
Peter Two couldn’t help but grimace at the reminder. The last time Peter Three had pushed himself so hard, it had resulted in nine days’ worth of caffeine withdrawals that were none too pretty. “Alright. Brother knows best.”
“Just don’t let him suck you into whatever he’s doing too; he’s already neck deep—”
“Sure, sure, sure, sure, neck deep, but that means my ears are still above ground—a-above water—above whatever! I can hear you!” Peter Three announced as he hauled the door open, big, bloodshot eyes flicking wildly between them. “Two, Peter Two, I’m totally, absolutely about to do exactly what Peter One said to not do and I’m gonna suck you into—to—to do what I’m doing! C’mere, I wanna show you a—it’s almost—I’ve almost got it!”
“Wait, but I—” Peter Two jumped as Three abruptly lashed out for his arm, hauling him into the mountainous midst of tech, tools, and trash teetering precariously in the room.
“I know, I know, I know, it’ll just be a real teeny quick sec, okay? You gotta see this first, you gotta tell me what it’s missing so I can flux—flix—f-fix it!” A tense noise shook through him. “Sorry, mouth—word vomit! S’just a headache, my brain’s in, like, ten tiff—d-d-different places right now!” A hoarse attempt at a laugh escaped him, which Peter Two didn’t return.
“Before you show me what you’ve been working on, why don’t you hit the pause button real quick, take a deep breath in…” He demonstrated, inhaling deeply, and Three jerked a nod, shakily following. “And out…Good, that’s good. Now how about a hug? I haven’t seen you in days; I’ve missed your hugs.”
“Days? Yeah, I guess it has been, uh…um…I-I…” His breath hitched again. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to—for it—I’ve just had a lot going on, I got all excited about jumping right in and then once I started— It’s just been a lot on my mind and, uh—and—”
“Oh, believe me, I know. Wanting to get it all done in one shot, otherwise it’s going to be circling around and around in your head while you’re trying to sleep. But you’ve been trying not to, haven’t you?” Two kept his voice gentle but cautionary. “Peter, you remember that conversation we all had a while back, about caffeine levels like this interacting badly with your meds?”
“…Yeah.”
“Their job is to keep you calmer and more focused. When you’re hopped up way over the limit like this, they can’t work like they’re supposed to and neither can you. That’s why your project needs some adjustments now, huh?” Another tiny nod, hands weak and jittery as they curled into Peter Two’s back. “I can take a look at it for you if you can take a break for me.”
“…Can we…I-I don’t wanna…nnh.” Frustration, guilt and dejection dragged across his haggard face, forcing it down against Two’s shoulder. Rubbing circles over his back, Peter Two waited it out for a few minutes until Three gathered himself enough to speak again, a slurred, muffled croak. “S’rry…I th-think if I let go of you, m’gonna pass out.”
“Okay. You’re not gonna fall, bud, I’ve gotcha. Peter One—?”
“Clear the bed,” Peter read his mind, already on his way to push heaps of laundry and paper plates and cups out of the way. Grunting softly, Peter Two bent back to compensate as Three’s legs gave out, hooking both arms around buckling knees to lift him.
The path to the bed was a precarious one, full of stops and starts as Peter One had to keep kicking stray shoes and wrenches and boxes out of the way. By the time they made it, Peter Three was out, though still shivery and loosely clinging to Two’s neck as he tried to maneuver him down.
“Are you free to snuggle up with him for a while so I can work on…” He glanced with some trepidation over at the desk. “…whatever’s happening over there?”
“Sure thing—as long as it doesn’t take another nine days!”
#thank you!#i'm glad you like it!#marvel#spider man#spider man no way home#fanfiction#peter parker#peter two#peter three#tom holland#tobey maguire#andrew garfield#sleep deprivation#caretaking#brotherly love#answered ask#anonymous
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Sandbox Adventure
I had an adventure in a sandbox game, just a little under an hour ago. Basically there are black zones where people are allowed to beat you up and take all your stuff. My guild has a hideout in one of these. Also, the portals that lead into these zones shift every 12-24 hours. The stable path to the hideout only allows you to come in naked; If you want to carry things (such as weapons and armor to use for content in the black zones) you need to go through the ever-shifting portals.
I got some bad information, and followed a path to a zone on the assumption that it had a portal leading to our hideout’s zone. Nope.
So I went on the assumption that all the hidden roads were connected to each other, and if I kept going through portals that led to other hidden road zones I’d eventually hit one that had a portal to my hideout...
Also nope. In this case, I eventually hit a “dead end” in the form of a zone that had three exit portals: Two leading out to non-black space that wasn’t part of these portal-based roads, and a third being the one I’d just come out of. So there was no way to go farther in the black zone to a place I hadn’t already been. In every zone along the way I’d checked the names of the portals for my hideout’s zone. And I couldn’t recall any point where I had 3 choices of direction, which meant if I went back through the gate I’d come out of I was looking at a trip back through the last five zones I’d come through.
But one of the portals in the “dead-end” zone I’d found led to a blue (non-PvP) zone, so I was able to hop out and log out somewhere truly safe.
It interests me that all it took to make running through these zones an adventure was an objective (get to my hideout), a risk (someone might beat me up and take my stuff) and choices about how to try and get the former and avoid the latter. I mean the whole adventure started because I decided I didn’t feel like running through ten more blue zones to get to a known portal in the black zone that attached to our hideout. That too was a choice. It was also interesting that everyone I did encounter on my journey was clearly just as skittish as I was. My outfit (cultist black robes, riding a supremely haunted armored steed) probably helped.
I think this is a nice example of emergent sandbox gameplay. Like, I feel pretty good about that experience, even though all I did mechanically was run a horse down some roads that had enchanted speed boosts every 100 meters or so, frantically read the portal names as I came out of a portal, and then start running again.
Also I feel good about the experience even though I got the nothing end result, where I neither succeeded nor failed. I admit I might not have looked back fondly on this experience if it’d ended with my stuff in some asshole’s saddlebags and my bones bleaching out on that misty road.
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Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Forty-one
Word count: 2.2k
Tw: nothing major but lmk if i should add anything
Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @books-over-boys @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125
On Ao3 or below the cut!
Fitz Pov
Before letting me in Sophie’s room, Sandor checks me for tracking devices, other than the ones he put in my clothes that Grizel did not realize were there.
She doesn’t exactly appreciate the fact that her boyfriend doesn’t trust her enough not to lose me somewhere in a field or not carry Neverseen trackers on me.
“Hey,” I say, walking into Sophie’s room and sitting on the bed across from her.
“Hey,” she replies, smiling.
“What’ve you been doing?”
“Losing my mind. You?”
“Same, not going to lie.”
“Telepath time? Or do you want to find a stupidly insane topic and waste a few hours of our lives?”
“I’ve already wasted enough time before texting you,” I answer.
“What kind of Telepathic exercises were you thinking, then?”
“The classic secret sharing one works pretty well for us. I just want to make sure I haven’t messed up our connection.”
“Don’t be silly. If it’s messed up, it’s my fault.”
No you didn’t, I’m tempted to say. But she’s so stubborn it won’t go anywhere.
“Do you want to start with three out loud? And then test if I can get in?”
I mentally cringe at the preposition and wait for her to nod before saying, “I’ll go first. I’ve been baking way too much and I’ve eaten more mallowmelt recently than I’m sure is healthy.”
“I want some of that mallowmelt,” Sophie remarks. “No judgement, right?”
“Of course.”
“Because I’ve been stuck in here for so long because someone’s paranoid, I've finally had enough time to update my Solangelo fanfic on fanfiction.net from three years ago.”
“Okay, I’m going to need some words defined.”
“Solangelo is the name for the relationship between Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace from the Riordanverse, usually used in a romantic context. There’s a bunch of books, so no plot for you. That’d take forever. Fanfic is basically when a fan of a certain piece of media doesn’t have enough for their liking or doesn’t like what happened in the canon or was bored, so they take the characters and write their own story with them. Sometimes they can be in the same setting, sometimes not so much. We call that an AU, or alternate universe.”
“Oh. Cool.”
I’m starting to love learning about human things and asking a gazillion questions.
“No judgement!”
“Can I, uh, can I read it?”
“Oh gosh, no, it’s terrible.”
“Then why did you bother updating it and what does that even mean?”
“It means adding new content, in the form of a new chapter, and I was bored. At this rate, I may end up rewriting it with ten times as much angst.”
“How would one go about writing a fanfic?”
I notice Sophie’s bright red from embarrassment, which isn’t all that unexpected.
“How I do it, at least, is I let headcanons float around in my brain for a while, which can converge into an idea, which, if it’s persistent enough, can get written down as an idea in my WIP folder, where is will stay unless I go and write it out, but I’ve got enough WIPs that it won’t be. Before you ask, headcanons are little interpretations of the characters that I think make sense with the characters. If they’re widespread through a fandom, then they can be considered fanon. For example, most, if not all, of the Percy Jackson fandom has simply disowned the movies. And WIP stands for ‘work in progress.’”
“Now I want to know who this Percy Jackson is.”
Sophie sighs. “It’s a very long story and the last time I read anything canonical, Percy and his girlfriend, Annabeth, were left in Tartarus, and I should really find out what happened between that and Solangelo becoming canon. But there’s this camp of Demigods and then there’s monsters, and titans, and lots of other things, and the more I say, the more I’m going to have to explain. Welp.”
“Do you mind if I ask what ‘canon’ is?”
“That’s the least embarrassing thing you’ve asked me to clarify yet. Canon is the official content of the world. Anything contained in the books, movies, show’s episodes, et cetera, is considered canon.”
“I don’t have any more questions to keep stalling, so I guess it’s my turn. I don’t know if this really counts because my Dad knows, but you don’t. I don’t just know entry level English. I was also taught a bit of Mandarin Chinese, Hindi, Spanish, Arabic, French, and Russian because we had no clue where you were, so my Dad just kept shoving more human languages into my brain with the hope that you’d have learned one of those while growing up. My poor seven year old brain. I’ve lost most of them, but I still remember my Russian swears.”
“Ah, yes. The most important part of a language, other than ‘Where is the bathroom?’ But how’d a seven year old learn how to swear?”
“We were searching for a long time and people kept telling me to go away the mean way. I mean, most places had basically the same reaction to me, but Russia’s so huge it stuck with me more, I guess.”
“That’s interesting. Why hasn’t this come up earlier? It seems like an easy thing to admit compared to some other things, but, yes, I’ll count it.”
Keefe’s a wanker, that’s why.
“Biana was being particularly annoying today and I accidentally switched to Spanish…”
“Oops. My turn I guess. I also used to write fics for Destiel and I definitely wasn’t involved in the bisexual!Bella Twilight fandom. And also Klaine. I miss Klaine.”
“What are these words?”
“Ship names, mostly. Destiel is the ship name of Castiel and from the show Supernatural. Never seen it. Just read that many fics. Twilight’s...a fandom. That’s all I’m going to say. Books made into movies. Klaine is the ship name of and from Glee. It’s the one of these things that is actually canonical.”
“Back to my turn.” I sigh. “Dex has successfully made me unable to unhear phrases or clauses or sentences or somethings--I don’t know the grammar well enough sorry--that end in a preposition, but he knows that, so…”
“He might know that, but does he know that you have no clue what the correct rules are?”
“No. But it’s still not the best secret I could’ve shared.”
“Fine. A pathetic secret for a pathetic secret. I hid Amy’s karaoke machine before you took me here and she hasn’t gotten it back since to my knowledge. And the world is better for it.”
“That’s not a pathetic secret, it’s a useful one. Remind me to make sure Biana’s iPod gets lost.”
‘Lost’ is obviously contained within air quotes.
“How’d she manage to get an iPod?”
“Dex is building them for everyone at this point. He built himself one when he was working on yours and now...Biana’s blasting everyone’s eardrums out. I think that was our third round, so Cognate test time?”
“Okay. If you’re ready,” Sophie replies.
Lacing our fingers together, it takes somewhere in the range of several minutes of chanting It’s me before Sophie’s mind gives me that familiar tug.
She’s thinking about a uvula.
Always with the uvulas.
Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there.
Wow. I forgot how intense your mind is.
Sorry.
It’s not your fault. I know I have to transmit super loud to get anything in there. I’m probably going to have a mild headache after this, that’s all.
Quiet down, brain, Sophie thinks. Can’t you see we have company? Behave.
I smile.
I guess we should continue sharing secrets. One time, I put green hair dye in Biana’s shampoo and blamed it on Keefe. To this day, she still believes he lied to her about it.
That’s amazing. Now I have good blackmail.
Nope. It’s part of the Cognate bond that I have to have full trust in you, and threatening to share my secrets isn’t good for that.
Okay. Fine. Try not to tell anyone this, then.
Five secrets each, which turns out to be about an hour later, it’s my turn again.
I’m running out of secrets.
Quietly, my least favorite little voice in my head tries, you could--.
NOPE.
I can feel Sophie’s confusion as more of an abstract thought than a verbal one.
Nope. Nope. Nope. That’s off limits.
What’s off limits? Sophie asks innocently.
Telling you would defeat the point, I snap.
Sophie mumbles something, and I ask, What?
Nothing!
It’s just tough for me because I can’t imagine sharing this one but at the same time we’re cognates and I have to tell you everything.
Do you want to call it good for today and do dumb friend things?
I blink, breaking eye contact, and run my hands through my hair as soon as I get them untangled from Sophie’s.
Sophie gives me Ella, but it does little to slow my racing thoughts trying to form a rudimentary pros and cons list. They don’t help the headache that started pounding at my temples a half-hour ago either.
“Just do what your gut is telling you to do,” Sophie suggests, rather unhelpfully if you ask me.
“My gut says it wants to be outside my body. So, no.”
Sophie sighs, and I think the pros and cons chart has organized itself into a clear solution.
Gathering my nonexistent courage, I force out, “I think I might be bisexual.”
Sophie stops.
“Oh. Was not expecting that. Okay. I didn’t realize Elves could be, you know. I mean, it makes sense, but it’d never occurred to me.”
“Me neither, as of like two weeks ago.”
“That’s, uh...that’s pretty recent of you there.”
I clarify, “That’s not when I started questioning. That was five days ago.”
“Do you mind me asking who your bi awakening was?”
“I’m not really ready for that much yet. But I’ll get there eventually.”
“Makes sense. Can same-sex couples be on each other’s match lists or get married?”
“Not to my knowledge. Again, I learned that not all people are straight two weeks ago, and that was my brother, so I was almost certain he’d lost his mind. And before you fixate on the conclusion that if I were to date a guy, it’d inevitably be a Bad Match, so there’s no way I’m going to do that.”
“Well, why not?” Sophie asks.
“It’d be a Bad Match,” I answer, thinking that it’s obvious.
“Not if nobody knew.”
“So I’d potentially have to lie for the rest of my life? No thank you.”
“Maybe not all of it. Maybe in a century or two, attitudes towards the Matchmaking system will be different.”
“Or I can definitely find a nice girl on one of my match lists and not have to worry.”
“So you’re telling me that you’d settle for a nice girl if she was on your Match Lists instead of going out on a limb to find the perfect person for you?”
“The matchmaking system was designed to match up people to have the strongest possible kids and take into account personal tastes, so yes.”
“That’s what it’s become. Was it not designed to make sure relatives don’t marry each other?”
She’s got me there. “How would I go about proving that I’m not related to, you know…”
I’m not quite sure how to phrase it.
“Your current hyperfixation?” Sophie suggests.
That works.
“Do some research. The US will allow marriage between third cousins. At least that’s what I remember. I don’t know why I know that. They’ll have shared two of their sixteen great-great-grandparents. Add another generation or two and it’ll be far enough to be negligible, and follow down the family trees. It’ll as least cover the worst of it. And the whole point of not marrying family is to reduce the likelihood of certain recessive genetic diseases. Like the Habsburg chin.”
Sophie shows me a picture of a guy she calls, “Charles the second of Spain.”
His chin doesn’t look healthy.
“Oh,” I manage, considering all the marriages of cousins that must’ve led to this.
“You haven’t even heard of Alabama. Don’t ask.”
“...what’s wrong with this Alabama?”
“I told you not to ask. Do you have any more worries I have to prove aren’t as justified as you think they are?”
“What if the subject of my current hyperfixation, as you called him, hates me?”
“I don’t know. Take a chance, lay out your emotions, and see what happens?”
I raise a suspicious eyebrow.
Because you did that with me.
Before I can argue, my Imparter buzzes with a message from Biana.
“Biana says that it’s time for me to eat dinner, so I’ve got to get home. Bye. I’ll see you later.”
“Please come over here as much as you want. Please. Bye. The only reason I’m letting you leave is because I know you’ll come back.”
Interrupting the death glaring contest between Sandor and Grizel, I leap away, feeling lighter than usual.
When I see Biana, she asks me, “So. What did you and Sophie talk about?”
“The fact that you just ended a sentence in a preposition,” I reply, barely suppressing a smirk. Although I’m not sure why it wanted to tug at my lips.
#kotlc#detz#dex dizznee#fitz vacker#kotlc fanfic#everybody behold the fastest character arc ever#its called i can only handle mopey fitz for so long okay#i could write an entire fucking essay on how prepositions are used as a narritive device in the context of this fic#no seriously i can read so much meaning into them#fuck you mr. kemock
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Translation: Günther Steiner about Mick and the situation at Haas
Source: Peter Hardenacke Instagram
Ahhh, I finally finished translating the infamous Günther Steiner interview with Sky Germany 😅
This was a tough one😳 they continously interrupted each other and Günther always started and then restarted his sentences😅
Anyway, enjoy! (Or not - it's not the loveliest interview.. 😶)
Interviewer (Peter Hardenacke): Yes, a lot of pressure on Haas right now, Günther Steiner now with us. I’ll pick up on the segment that Matthias Peter did for us right away – Günther, the competition doesn’t doubt Mick’s potential, what about you?
Günther: We have to see. We don’t doubt (it) but we need success. I just listened to that and of course people have an opinion, which I am completely okay with as I have my own opinion about others as well, the same way I sometimes say what I think, they say what they’re thinking right now as well, I absolutely don’t have any problem with that, and I don’t have to defend myself. We have to get points. I also heard Mick (talking) about the decision to get new tyres (he criticised it) - he didn’t tell me yet that it was wrong, he talked about it in the debrief where he was told why it wasn’t wrong – that’s why I think what happens through your channels now, you try to drive a wedge between us, from the side, from –
I: But Günther, you also address (some things) through the media and not only with us, but also with others –
G: No, no, of course, I am sorry, not only –
I: – and of course also criticise Mick in the media, so you also choose to go the public way. It’s not only from our, from the media’s side, you also serve the media.
G: Yes – but now I want to finish my sentence.
I: Do that.
G: Right. A wedge is driven between us. We are being criticised and blamed to be responsible for everything – we are not, I think. We want to as a team – just to explain it – we want to have Mick successful. We do that the way we do and for that I don’t need anyone, I don’t need any advice. People don’t have a right to vote with Haas and this rift is not good for Mick, that’s the point I want to make. Putting a wedge between us/divide the team from the outside is not good for Mick, because we, or I, we as a team try to strengthen the team and who is part of the team?
I: The drivers –
G: Exactly!
I: – the mechanics, you yourself – but if you say no right to vote it kind of sounds like a dictatorship Günther Steiner.
G: No. No! The right to vote from the outside! There is a right to vote, but the team is not owned by anyone (I think he means the public), the owner is just one (person).
I: But, generally (talking) about the style of leadership: It is your team, you can do it the way you think is right an to got public. But how is it for example after a first free practice here in Baku, where Mick, in the difficult decision he’s in, needs support. Do you go to him, do you hug him, tell him ‘All will be well’ or how do you approach it?
G: We immediately apologized to him. That is the last thing he needs, we know that. And I say it all the time: We are a team. We are not as bad or as inhumane as some people might make us out, because if something is being written on Monday how bad everything was for Mick, everything we did wrong – for everyone of them I have ten things how bad Mick is.
I: What is bad?
G: I don’t know that I only say what the public opinion is. The public opinion is worth so much, it comes from both sides, you can’t just – the amount of advice I’m getting as well that Mick should not be here, no one has to tell me that, I don’t even want (to hear) that, that’s not why I’m here!
I: Even though we just heard the opinion of Toto Wolff for example or even Franz Tost sho are saying something else entirely, those are experts as well.
G: I didn’t hear Franz Tost, I heard Toto. Franz Tost is –
I: Well, there is a universal opinion here that there is a huge talent with Mick. I asked you that in the beginning as well.
G. Exactly and with every (opinion) like these, there are ten who say that is not the case. You have to understand that as well. And we have to deal with that as well, that wouldn’t be good. I also try to keep the pressure off of Mick. That’s what we try! Back to simple: We are a team. We need Mick, Mick needs us. And together we can be strong. If we don’t work together, we can’t do that. There is a lot of agitation on the outside, every word is twisted, I am aware of that, I can live with that, I can live with a lot. I can deal with everything. And that’s why the direct criticism shouldn’t always go straight to the team or to me personally – to me personally I have no problem at all to deal with that, since I am who I am and you won’t change me, you need tougher guys for that!
I: Well, I’m not sure if you need tougher guys for that Günther. In the end, and we talked about that yesterday already, Formula 1 is a big circus, everyone plays their part, and you must be able to live with getting criticised, you as well as us, that’s how it is, the drivers, too, of course. The question is always which path you choose. Nevertheless, I have the feeling that meanwhile the fronts are quite hardened. How will this continue between you and Mick? How big is the pressure in him, also this Sunday?
G: I don’t think the fronts are hardened, again those are words put in my mouth. The fronts are not hardened. We spoke last week Mick and I, we met up on Thursday with Mick, we had a short chat just now –
I: Do you give him a hug from time to time?
G: Eh- we- we talk about it properly what it’s about – what do you mean, hug?
I: Emotionality, Günther!
G: Ehh –
I: A bit of warmth! A bit of compassion, that’s what every young person needs, what everyone needs!
(*Insert The-man-was-too-stunned-to-speak-meme here* 😅)
G: I mean – we talk about it properly; we talk about it in a positive way to see how we continue and that’s what’s important to me. If I then get advice on how I should do that, I don’t need it. Am I allowed to repeat that?
I: Yes, I understood that! (*awkward laugh*)
G: Right, okay! (*awkward laugh*)
I: Günther, what does it depend on if Mick is getting a new contract next season?
G: Well, it does not only depend on us, it also depends on Ferrari. It’s not completely up to us, we have to see –
I: Well, just regarding the sport?
G: Regarding the.. sport? Eh – yeah, regarding the sport! It will depend on that!
I: But what do you expect from him regarding the sport for him to be able to drive for Haas next season?
G: I mean, what do you need in Formula 1?
I: Points –
G: Yes.
I: – which you will get with some confidence, some support from the team, of course. But we are going around in circles here, Günther. I understood the point you made, and we accept that and talk about it, that is important as well. In the end it’s not about one opinion being more important then the other, we exchange them. In general, the situation at Haas: You got a good start to the season. 13 points in the first two races alone, now it has only been 2 points in the last five races. Where do the difficulties lie? Is it to do with the update, that hasn’t been there, yet?
G: No, we had – the car was good! We always had difficulties. I mean we were in the points in Miami until the safety car got out. Kevin wanted new tyres and got together (=crashed) with.. I don’t know with who he got together –
I: With Lewis. In the last race?
G: No, no, that was the last race, the race in Miami!
I: Okay, but there definitely always was –
G: Always some – Mick got together with Vettel, otherwise Mick would have been in the points as well, so there have always been problems that are not easy – we can’t get rid of them. There are always there, I mean yesterday at qualifying – what can we do? We are out, are on a fast lap, Kevin is on a fast lap and Stroll hits (the barrier). And then you stand in the pitlane and can’t go out since there is just not enough time to get a lap. There’s nothing you can – it is very frustrating, very annoying even, but it is like that sometimes. And at the moment nothing can go right, and we can just hope that this afternoon will be better and that luck will be on our side for once and not just the bad luck.
I: Günther and you know we cross our fingers for you! We did that in the years prior and now that Mick is there even more. Thank you for the talk and also for your open opinion and that’s how we’ll approach the sunday!
G: Thanks!
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(Hi, me again. Once again writing this just after taking Melatonin so sorry for grammatical errors. Also Lukas having Rowan comment on my pink eyes (Dark Pink eyes means I’m excited for anyone who doesn’t know.) made me ridiculously happy that you remembered so thank you for that. You just made my evening. Also I spent an embarrassing long time figuring out what my supernatural abilities would be. But it was a lot of fun. Also no shots for me as I don’t drink.)
(Hi, future me here. Sorry it took so long to respond. I typed out the ask in notes last night but then tumblr wouldn’t let me send asks without verifying me email (Which I already did when I first made this account.) but the verification email it sent me didn’t work because it sent it months ago so I gave up and went to bed (Because it was nearly ten o’clock and I could barely keep my eyes open.) and after a lot of faffing about I managed to figure it out this morning. Also everything just reformatted and I’m not sure if that’s due to verifying my email or this coinciding with an update but either way it is taking some getting used to.)
Hmm, abilities. Well you already mentioned the eyes. A few other obvious ones are teleportation, levitation and the ability to pass through solid objects. I can also time travel, and I can modify my form in certain ways. Such as manifesting arms so I can cook or change my shape into a cube or a sphere or stuff like that. I can use this to turn myself into a sort of holographic screen to show people stuff if I want to.
I can also do minor reality warping which sounds much more impressive than it actually is. I use to create minor inconveniences for people I don’t like and to give people I do like good luck. Some examples of this are making coins appear in someone’s path if I like them or making all of their left socks go missing if I don’t.
I previously mentioned that I technically have the ability to possess things but I don’t use it enough to really consider it one of my abilities.
I also have a naturally soothing aura which makes people more inclined to relax around me. It’s not an instant relaxation thing it’s more like having a nice soothing cup of tea or waking up after a good nights sleep or that satisfying full feeling that you get after a big meal. Just enough to take the edge off your stress but not enough to get rid of it. Does that mean sense? I hope it does.
Anyway Logan I wish you the best of luck figuring out how I work as I have no internal organs, no need to eat or drink, and the way I sleep is more like temporarily blinking out of existence to pass time that a necessity. I wasn’t even born I just appeared in The Void one day. So good luck.
I think that’s most of my abilities covered, I might have missed a few because I’m very forgetful (Read in case I think of anything else that would be a cool ability to have.) but that’s most of them. Feel free to ask more questions if you have any. I’m more than happy to answer them.
Also instead of alcohol I’ll just summon some apple juice so I don’t feel left out
*procedes to summon a floating blob of apple juice without a cup and suck it up with a ludicrously long curly straw*
Glow Eyes
(aww im glad me remembering made ur night C:)
Logan continued to enthusiastically write down notes "Interesting. So it seems like teleportation, levitation and non corporality are all abilities void creatures share. As well as body morphing to a certain degree. Minor time travel, or perhaps jumping between time rooms could also be a shared one. I wonder if it's the void that creates these abilities or some internal force of the individual watcher"
Janus squeezed their boyfriend's hand "Darling you're so cute when you get excited" They murmured out to him.
"Of course. I am incredibly adorable" He said in a completely neutral tone.
"If you can spread gold coins for people you like can you leave a trail of blood everywhere I go" Remus asked "I think that'd be cool thank you. Either that or you could make Ro-Ro wake up with bugs on her pillow every day!"
His sister threw a pillow at him as a response. It hit him right in the face making him fall over to the side which just made him let out a big cackle.
"That does indeed make sense" Logan replied to you while writing down in his notebook 'Glow eyes have an ability to release a slight steam of xanax into the air?'
Patty let up into a sad look when she heard that you didn't need to eat or drink "Kiddo I hope you can still enjoy food. Or else I will do my best to make the sweetest bestest food ever to convince you it's tasty!"
"I will gladly help you out honey" Logan said to his wife.
"Aww thanks sweety!!"
He clicked his pen shut and closed his notebook for now "Thank you for the good luck. I will do my best attempt at researching this. It is highly fascinating"
After you had drank your apple juice Remus held up his hand to high five you. You obviously high fived back.
"Another person who doesn't drink!! No drinking gang!! We can feel left out together!!"
"Are you feeling left out!?" Patty gasped.
"No! No! I was just joking! Jesting even!" Remus quickly assured to stop her before her eyes turned into big puddles.
She let out a breathe of relief "Oh okay then. Crisis adverted"
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Need to scream into the void. Please ignore.
I’m so tired. I need this work project to end. I worked ten and a half hours today, for the second time this week I might add. In fact, this has become a regular occurrence over the past couple months. I stopped early yesterday and by early I mean I only worked nine hours. I have been lying in bed for the past hour desperately trying to fall asleep but unable to because I can’t stop thinking about work. It’s midnight here and I just got out of bed to see if I had completely forgotten about something that would solve a big issue. Turns out I hadn’t, but the consultant we’re working with had already replied to my email listing that exact thing as a possible solution. I’m gonna take that as a good sign. Maybe I can put down one worry at least.
I’m so tired. I just want to go back to my normal 8 hour schedule. I want my evenings back. I want my puzzle breaks back. I want to come home without my work computer. I want to associate my home office with games again. I’ve developed an aversion to my personal computers because i’m glued to my work one so much. Any time not spent at my work computer needs to not be at a computer at all for the sake of my own sanity. Why couldn’t we have at least done this in the summer so I could go outside and get some sun after I clock out? But no, it has to be winter and dark for hours before I’m finished.
I’m so tired. I want to talk to The Guy. He was working from home today and we were both so busy that we didn’t even message each other until well after lunch and it was sporadic after that. I need a proper face to face conversation. He’s the most relaxing part of my day and this damn project barely lets us speak to each other anymore.
I’m so tired. I got less than 5 hours of sleep last night and it seems like I’ll be lucky if I get 5 and a half tonight. I’m writing this damn post because supposedly journaling helps a restless mind stop worrying at bedtime. Fingers crossed it works, but I have a feeling I’m going to just keep thinking about work.
I’m so tired. I wish I understood how a desk job can be so physically draining. I’ve been so tense lately (and probably had such bad posture that) that I had to take ibuprofen for my back. It doesn’t help that I overheard a friend telling the new person at our dnd game that this is my “intro to an adult job” or something along those lines. I wanted to punch him once those words sunk in through this haze of exhaustion. First adult job my ass. Your job’s not actually supposed to work you to death! Besides, I’m fairly certain my last job gave me ptsd because I was carrying so much. I stop breathing when I see that company’s products. I have nightmares about going back to work there. I couldn’t bring myself to throw out the shirts they gave me, so instead I would stumble across them in my closet and panic for a moment (I finally did toss them a few weeks ago, though. That was a relief). The weird thing is I can’t remember the specifics anymore. Like, I know it was miserable and I had too much to do and it was so overwhelming that I occasionally shut down. I remember I would regularly scream as I drove home because I just needed a release. But I don’t remember why exactly. I remember it felt like people hated me, but I can’t come up with examples. I get nauseous when I try to think of them, yet I can’t help but try. I know my memory is bad in general. This feels like that whole experience has a big scab over it though. There’s an outline of the injury, but you can’t see the actual wound anymore. Doesn’t stop me from picking at it.
I’m so tired. The end of this project is in sight, even if feels so far away. One thing I’m sure of, though, is that no matter how much pressure I’m under right now, now matter how much lingering dread from my old job persists, no matter how little time I get with The Guy, I’m in the right place. Things will go back to normal eventually, and I’ll be so grateful when they do.
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The Glut is the Glitch in Cannabis.
Dateline 6-8-23
Once again it’s a beautiful morning here in Middle Tennessee but the long anticipated Heat has arrived, announcing its presence with authority. Yesterday while weeding my small garden at the Tennessee Homegrown compound on Lee Crabtree’s farm in Readyville, Tennessee, it was hot and The Old Hemp Farmer broke a sweat in about 2 minutes. I think yours truly lasted about 45 minutes then I declared victory against the weeds, quickly picked a bunch of Kale and Spinach then got in the shade. So this morning I’m in the shade enjoying the comfort of a fan while consuming my usual cup of Joe and Tennessee Homegrown Extract infused Cacao. This morning’s blurb is about a couple of phone calls and and a couple articles that I read this morning in MJBiz.com about how Canada Cannabis producers grew way more weed than the market could absorb. In fact, those lovable “nug” lovers in the Great White North grew 3.2 millions pounds of Cannabis flowers more than what could be sold. This over abundance of Cannabis flowers could reverberate around the Canadian Cannabis scene for years. If the overgrowing of flower continues for a couple of years, it will break their legal Cannabis market. This won't effect large scale traditional agriculture, it has always cast a wary eye towards Cannabis because of the marketplace is always in flux and an uncertain price point but will decimate the new Cannabis entrepreneurs banking on big bucks to pay the bills.
A perfect example of this, is in the good old US of A because for the first time since the inception of the 2014 Farm Bill more Hemp acreage will be grown for Fiber and Seed Oil than for Cannabinoids. In 2019, 25 times more “Hemp” acreage was planted for CBD/D8 than was planted for textiles or for food. In fact, in 2019 there was ten times more Cannabis flower than what the market needed. And this over planting of Hemp continued for the next couple of years with each year, less people growing less “Hemp” acreage but still more than what the market could absorb, because of this, the Hemp Derived Cannabis Industry got broken. What do I mean by broken? Remember the phone calls I told you about? We continue to have people trying to salvage bad Cannabis investments by selling their Cannabis or Cannabis extracts, many times for far less than it cost to grow or process. Also in this dysfunctional Cannabis World are the people that have no qualms about paying folks less than what the product cost. So now almost 5 years later the ramifications of overproduction of cannabis still reverberate through the Industry. Basically the only folks that are growing Hemp for Cannabinoids are mostly vertical operations that have some value added to the their product or the rare farmer that has a valid contract. Gone are the days when people grew 80 acres of Hemp Flower banking on someone coming down their drive with a tractor trailer and a check book. So it appears that the days of growing Hemp on speculation has come to an end, too bad it didn’t happen 4 years sooner. Anyway as always, Hemp Dawgs and Hemp Puppies keep one eye on the weather and the other eye on the market.
Visit our Tennessee Homegrown web site to try our great products: https://www.tnhomegrown.com
Our Podcast - Full Contact Cannabis: https://fullcontactcannabis.podbean.com
The Wife's web site: https://www.theoldhempfarmerswife.com
#theoldhempfarmer#tennesseehomegrown#fullcontactcannabis#cannabisbusiness#cannabis#theoldhempfarmerswife
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Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (427): Thu 18th May 2023
To my amazement I managed to finish the whole of Mr Whites Confession in a single day. It’s an absolutely gripping read and I had no problem staying out for a good three hours to finish it in almost one sitting. As stated in a previous blog the book is about a man named White who has a poor memory so he catalogues his daily activities in his diary. When he is accused of commuting a murder he can’t say for sure that he didn’t. He is eventually found guilty and sentenced to life in prison but eventually grows to love prison life because he can be alone to document his thoughts. Cleverly they never state who the killer is (so I guess it could have been White) leaving the reader to decide who it was…if the identity forge killer even matters that is. This was a fucking fantastic book and more than makes up for Cimmaron Rose, the last shitty book in the series that I plowed through. I can’t even remember when I started my challenge to read all the books that have won the Edgar Award for Best Novel but it was when I was still working at the cafe so it’s been a good few years (I think it may have been the start of 2020). Back then I never could have imagined that I still wouldn’t be finished the thing by May 2023. The awards started in 1954 and Mr White’s Confession was released in 1999 meaning that the only books left to read are the 23 that have won the award this century. Normally I can’t finish a book in one sitting but because I’m that determined to finish this challenge I’m going to power through the remaining 23. On my days off I’ll just plonk my enormous arse in a comfortable chair and sit there until my eyes have devoured another detective / thriller novel. If the 46 books I’ve read as part of this challenge there have only been a half dozen or so I would label as truly brilliant. I’m hoping that changes and that the 23 I have left to read are all absolutely dynamite. Next up is “Bones” by Jan Burke so I ordered it off of Amazon and feverishly await its arrival.
While looking on Twitter tonight I saw that the terms “3x3”, “Lee Mack” and “Inside No 9 were trending. I realized that I’d forgotten tonight was Inside No 9 night on BBC 2 and I would go on to regret his because Reece and Steve pulled off yet another one of their televisual pranks that you need to be watching live at the time to get the most out of. At the start of the episode the announcer said that there was a change to the schedule and started broadcasting 3x3 a new quiz format hosted by Lee Mack. I’m hindsight it’s pretty obvious that this was phoney because this quaint, simplistic little quiz is that sort of thing they’d put in at half five in the afternoon not ten at night. Regardless this was played completely seriously by Mack and the cast with. I thing to suggest that there was anything below the surface of this inoffensive little quiz. However the episode culminates with one of the contestants revealing that she’s telekinetic and the result of a laboratory experiment, conducted by her own abusive “mother” whose head she then males explode. Man I wish I had been watching this live. I really hope that there were some people who were completely unaware of what Inside No 9 is and just watched this episode after channel hopping for a bit and settling on this innocent looking quiz. The best thing is I suspect that this is the kind of episode that gets better upon multiple viewings when you’re looking for clues as to what’s going to happen. For example, this exchange between Mack, the telekinetic / psychic kid and her mother:
Lee Mack: What do we do about Stephen?
Catherine: (To Margaret) What do you think?
Margaret: You know what I think
This is why Reece & Steve are the best writers in the world. They dangle clues in front of you and you have no idea it's happening
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Day One Hundred Thirty
Today I had a word about time management with my Block 2 class because a few of them have been struggling lately. We’re starting an essay- the last major grade on the quarter- so it’s important that they minimize their distractions and use their class time well. The essay is about religion/philosophy; students have to choose something about one of the belief systems we’ve studies to research more deeply, or, if they;’re taking the course for honors credit, compare/contrast a belief system we’ve studied with one we haven’t. So there are guidelines, but there are also choices, and that’s exactly how I like my assessments.
I went over the essay instructions, and had students read a couple finished examples (so they could see that it can be done in multiple ways, it doesn’t have to be the same amount of words or paragraphs, etc...) Then, using those example essays as our guide, we built an outline together. Since time management is crucial, I took the outline and sectioned it out so they had minimum goals to reach for the next three days (today’s was to get an introduction written). I still had to redirect a couple of students, but progress was made.
I saw some really neat essays beginning to take shape in both sections of the course, and I loved that students would stop me ask I walked around to as questions, but also to tell me what they were learning or share the topics they planned to write about. That enthusiasm is great.
Also, I spent about ten minutes showing a student how to do in-texts properly because he’s made the same mistake on a couple of assignments in a row, and I didn’t want him to do it again on this essay. I'd been meaning to work with him sooner, but he’s been absent or tardy a lot, so I couldn’t manage it until today. I showed him what needed to be done, he corrected his past assignments, thanked me for helping him, and got on with essay drafting. That’s a win.
Not a win: another student skipped my class, and not for the first time. I write him up every time, he gets assigned detentions and whatnot. But, clearly, that’s not changing his behavior.
But I don’t know what to do, and I don’t think anyone else does. It’s frustrating.
Anyways.
During Block 4, I got to teach a terrific APGOV lesson about the efforts to desegregate Birmingham in 1963, which included having students read “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” That’s a beautiful, striking piece of writing, so they had a lot to say about it afterwards. I really enjoyed that conversation.
And then I went to track practice, put the sprinters through timed 40s, and called it a day! I’ll be on my own for most of tomorrow’s practice because The Head Coach has a meeting, so we’ll see how that goes!
#teaching#teacher#teachblr#edublr#educhums#education#high school#social studies#Letter From Birmingham Jail#martin luther king jr#coaching#track#the head coach#day one hundred thirty
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