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ros3ybabe · 3 months

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Update on...Life?

Hello, my lovelies! I can't believe I haven't posted since...early December 2023? and now it's almost February! The time has flown so fast, kinda crazy. I do apologize for the lengthy absence, but as you'll find out, life has been hectic for me recently.

My boyfriend was in town from Dec 23rd til Han 1st, and then him and his mom left. The 2 weeks after he left were absolutely so difficult for me. As I've been unmedicated since early December due to insurance issues, my depression ramped up as heavily as it could and I pretty much stayed in bed those 2 weeks until my job started having us come back as the semester was going to start soon.

Once I started going back to work, I felt so much better. And now that my classes have resumed, I have more moments where I truly feel like myself despite still being unmedicated. But because my job is still pretty short staffed, I'm working a lot right now to both help out my job and make some extra money. Since my semester has only been started thus last week and a half, I am able to work this much but geez, I am so tired all the time right now.

I did finally get my insurance back! I have to pay over 150$ USD a month to maintain it, but I'm just excited to get back on track with my mental and physical health!

Things are slowly looking up for me at the moment and I'm honestly excited for what 2024 is going to being for me.

That being said, I am fully planning on coming back and posting regularly again! I missed this community more then I realized I would, and since the semester has started and I'm getting back into routines, what better way to keep myself accountable then to utilize my blog!

I am keeping the same theme, I love the pink feminine aesthetic still, but sometimes I may switch up the color theme, I'm not sure yet! And I will be resuming my challenge! I believe I got to about 30 days before I stopped, but due to the long hiatus, I will be basically starting back from day 1! I think I will resume the challenege either on Monday, January 29th OR Thursday, February 1st. I am not too sure yet.

also, please feel free to send me any questions you have about... anything, honestly! I will, alongside my challenge posts, be posting my goals for this semester, my study routines, stuff revolving around any hobbies I pick up, or my new *improved* routines.

til next time lovelies 🩷

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muffinlance · 1 year

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Fellow Prisoner Li, Part 4: Zuko Goes to the Time-Out Thinking Corner

Previous || Read from the beginning || Read all chapters on AO3

The prison was there. And worse than Sokka could have imagined, which was a pretty high bar, but the Fire Nation really dedicated itself to exceeding his expectations. At least it explained why Li had been acting so weird. What with his trying to scout ahead while they were still outside. And trying to get them to wait inside that empty cell while he went ahead. And then they’d found the prisoners, and… yeah. Yeah, maybe Sokka shouldn’t have let his little sister and a twelve-year-old see that. Maybe, just maybe, Li had been on to something.

Since the twelve-year-old was a fellow genocide survivor—and wow, that applied to three-fourths of their team, Sokka had never really realized that before—and. And since he was the Avatar, well. There had been glowing. And then there was a convenient hole in the ceiling for Appa to enter by.

There hadn’t been many prisoners left. Still should have been too many for one flying bison. But their added weight was not large enough to cause an issue.

It should have been. The Fire Nation was—

Sokka did not have words. He just. He didn’t.

* * *

They landed in some forest at night, somewhere outside anywhere major.

And got jump-scared by some old lady who appeared out of the trees with the creepiest grin and then promptly lost it.

“Amka? Ikiaq?” creepy lady said.

“Hama?” whispered one of their rescuees. Her smile creased her face, like leather going against its grain. “You did it. You really did. We never knew if they caught you, they told us they did but there was no body—”

And now they were at an inn. Sokka collapsed into bed, and resolved not to question the convenience of this all until morning.

* * *

He woke up too early, and yawned his way down the stairs.

“Why didn’t you go home?” someone was asking, from the kitchen.

There was a clink of cups being set down. Maybe bowls. Hama had insisted on bone broth and nothing but for last night’s dinner. To be fair, that had been all Sokka’s stomach could handle, too.

“And give them an excuse to raid again?” the innkeeper quietly scoffed. “No. I do what I can from here. Our tribe is safer without me.”

Sokka went back upstairs.

* * *

Hama offered to train Katara.

“Yes,” Katara said. And, after the hugging was done, and after a small guilty time delay to remember their mission: “Will you train Aang, too?”

“He’s a waterbender?” the last healthy southern master said, with a glance at the airbender’s tattoos.

“He’s the Avatar.”

“Yes,” Hama said.

* * *

Sokka sat down next to Li on the steps outside. The firebender looked like he was having a moment. His face had been stuck like that since mid-escape, though, so. Probably time to talk to him.

“Hey, Fellow Prisoner,” Sokka said. “Sure makes you realize how good we had it, huh?”

At which point Li opened his mouth and said words, but there was no way Sokka had heard them right.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t catch that. Say again?”

“...The Fire Lord doesn’t know. There’s no way he… he wouldn’t have allowed that. I need to tell—”

“I am,” Sokka said, “going to stop you there. Li. Buddy. Fellow Prison Pal. I am aware that it is apparently a shock, that the people who burned half your face off as a kid, then beat you and threw you in Commander Muttonchop's fun-time ship prison basement for more beatings as a slightly older kid, are not the best people—”

“But…” Li interrupted, and then stopped talking, because apparently he didn’t know where he was going with that, either.

“—And it is important to me that you know I don’t blame you for this. But it’s also important that you understand that that prison wasn’t built in secret, and it wasn’t staffed by uniquely evil people. It’s… it’s been there for decades. And people just… just went to work there, and got paid for it, and it was a normal job to them, and…” Sokka took a deep breath and let it out. “...And that is what the Fire Nation is. What it does. If you weren’t on our side from the start, I would have hated you and your bending on sight, because that’s what the Fire Nation does. And I really can’t be the one consoling you through this, because it is actually a little offensive to me that there are peaceful little villages like this a day’s travel from places like that, and decent people like you who knew the place existed but you… what? Think it’s just mismanagement? How should they have locked up generations of my elders, Li?”

Katara was right. He really, really shouldn’t be the one to have these conversations with the guy. Something something he’s got a good heart and yelling at him doesn’t help with the de-eviling.

“Listen,” Sokka said, standing up. “Why don’t you… think about it. Some more. And maybe about your place on the team, okay? Because we want you here. And we trust you. But our goal isn’t to sit the Fire Lord down and enlighten him about all the things his country is doing. Our goal is to get rid of him. If that’s not for you, that’s…”

That would be a choice. But one Li could make. And Sokka would rather have him make it now than have a breakdown during some future fight.

“I’m going to go help Kirima take her walk,” Sokka said, and went back inside. The elders’ walks were all in done inside. Because it wasn’t safe for the prisoners to show their faces outside, and it wasn’t like she could walk far enough to enjoy the sunshine, anyway.

Li was still sitting there, when he closed the door.

* * *

“You,” said the innkeeper, “have been sitting here all day. I’ve always found an evening walk to lift my spirits. Help an old woman find her way in the dark? Besides, I know a better spot for thinking.”

“I… okay.”

Under the full moon, Zuko followed.

#Katara: you said WHAT to him #Sokka: okay but I didn’t actually expect him to LEAVE #Aang: maybe he’s just taking a walk? and got lost?#he's pretty directionally challenged #Hama: maybe he’s gone spelunking #Fellow Prisoner Li #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #Zuko #Sokka #Hama is hilarious no one appreciates her #ficlet

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beardedmrbean · 11 months

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A San Francisco store owner who immigrated to the United States from Afghanistan says he is at his wits end with crime in the city after a gang of thieves stole over $100,000 in merchandise from his tobacco shop.

"The politicians need to get a grip on this because It’s worse than Afghanistan or Iraq," Zaid, co-owner of Cigarettes R Cheaper in San Francisco’s Richmond District, told Fox News Digital. He was referring to crime in the city following a robbery Tuesday night, when a half dozen thieves smashed his windows and made off with about $80,000 in merchandise and $20,000 in cash.

"At least in Afghanistan the Taliban will cut your hand off and people are afraid to commit such a crime," Zaid said, adding that he sees people stealing from nearby stores every day.

"They know the police won’t do anything," Zaid explained, adding that the thieves were in his store for 18 to 20 minutes and had plenty of time to "ransack" the place. Zaid added that police have told him that they are short-handed.

SAN FRANCISCO BUSINESS OWNERS AND RESIDENTS TALK DRUG, CRIME CRISIS: ‘ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE,' ‘DYSTOPIA’

The San Francisco Police Department, which is facing a crisis-level staffing shortage, confirmed to Fox News Digital that officers arrived on the scene at 2:44 a.m. on Wednesday and "observed the window to the business shattered and items from the business strewn about the scene."

No arrests have yet been made, and Zaid said that seven individuals in two cars were involved.

"We have drugs issue, we have homeless issue, and on top of this these idiots come in here and take whatever they want," Zaid said.

Zaid, who immigrated to the United States in 1987 and opened his store in 2003, said things are worse in San Francisco than they have ever been.

"The city has gone downhill, especially the last 2 years since COVID, I’ve never seen it worse," Zaid told Fox News Digital. "People are afraid to come shopping here because they are either going to get robbed or someone will break into their car."

If things do not change quickly, Zaid said he will have to close his business.

ONLY 17% OF SAN FRANCISCO TRANSIT RIDERS FEEL SAFE ON BOARD AMID CRIME CRISIS, 73% WANT MORE POLICE: POLL

"We might have to shut it down," Zaid told Fox News Digital. "Our safety is more important than making a living in this city."

"This is on the politicians," author and former California gubernatorial candidate Michael Shellenberger tweeted about the incident, while calling on San Francisco Democrat Mayor London Breed to take action.

Breed, who has recently downplayed the severity of rising crime in her city multiple times in recent months and suggested that "systemic racism" is to blame, did not immediately respond to a request for comment from Fox News Digital.

#nunyas news

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delusionalfanficwriter · 7 months

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vaccine

The emergency department was in chaos, with COVID cases pouring in at an alarming rate. Dr. Elena Rodriguez, despite her recent bout with the flu, was back at work, determined to do her part in the battle against the pandemic. She had been taking various supplements in an attempt to bolster her immune system, hoping it would compensate for not getting the COVID vaccine.

Amid the controlled chaos of the ER, Elena's attention was drawn to the medics rushing in with a critically ill patient. The report sounded grim, and Elena immediately sprang into action.

"44-year-old female. O2 saturation at 80% with a nonrebreather. Hypotensive and tachycardic. Positive COVID test two days ago. History of cardiac issues," the medic reported.

"Get her in room two," Elena commanded, her medical instincts kicking into high gear.

However, her authority was challenged by a familiar voice. Maya, her girlfriend, had appeared on the other side of the patient, her worry evident in her eyes.

"Dr. Rodriguez, get someone else to handle this case," Maya urged, her voice filled with concern.

Elena, focused on her patient, responded firmly, "Lt. Bishop, with all due respect, you are in my ER, and this is now my patient."

Maya wasn't one to back down easily, and she stepped closer to Elena, speaking in a hushed tone. "Elena, please, find someone else. You haven't had your vaccine, and you just recovered from the flu. You can't risk it."

Elena's determination to fulfill her duty clashed with Maya's protective instincts. She sighed, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Maya, this is my job. We're short-staffed, and I'm covering half the floor alone. Now, please, leave so I can get back to work."

“We are not done with this conversation. I’ll see you in the morning.” Maya huffed in frustration but knew that pushing further in the midst of a medical crisis wouldn't help. Reluctantly, she walked away, leaving Elena to focus on her patient.

As Elena continued to work tirelessly through her shift, her mind kept drifting to the impending confrontation with Maya and Carina. She wasn't looking forward to returning to their home, knowing that her decision to prioritize her work had caused tension in their relationship.

When her shift finally ended, Elena had a choice to make. She could either go to her own home to avoid further conflict or return to Maya and Carina's house, where they would undoubtedly have a difficult conversation waiting for her. With a heavy heart, she chose the latter, realizing that avoiding the issue would only make things worse in the long run. Elena's shift finally came to an end, and the exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders as she left the bustling emergency department. She knew there was a conversation waiting for her at home, and she couldn't avoid it any longer.

As she entered Maya and Carina's cozy living room, she found them sitting together on the couch, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. They didn't waste any time in addressing the issue at hand.

Maya spoke first, her voice tinged with worry. "Elena, we need to talk about this. You can't keep putting yourself at risk by avoiding vaccines."

Carina nodded in agreement, her concern matching Maya's. "It's not just about you, Elena. We're in a committed relationship, and your health affects all of us."

Elena sighed and sank into a nearby chair. She knew they were right, but her fear of needles ran deep, and it wasn't something she could easily overcome. "I understand your concerns, but you have to understand how hard this is for me. Needles terrify me, and I've managed to avoid them for so long."

Maya reached out and gently took Elena's hand. "We know it's not easy, Elena, but your health is non-negotiable. You've already faced one major health scare with the flu, and we don't want to go through that again."

“Elena. How can you take insulin but still be afraid of needles?” Carina genuinely asks. “I just don’t understand.”

Elena inhaled deeply, “I don’t know. There’s something subconscious about it. I guess because I was taking insulin injections from such an early age on a regular basis it’s like brushing my teeth but vaccines just terrify me and I can’t tell you why. It doesn’t make sense in my head either.”

“Okay. How about if you have me and Maya for support? Would you be willing to try?... Please?” Carina practically begs hoping the woman would budge. Elena’s face contorts and she bends her head down putting it in her hands.

“Don’t make me, please.” Maya and Carina watch tears stream between their girlfriend’s fingers and their heart ache not wanting to force her into anything but they are just looking out for her. Maya held Elena close, her embrace filled with warmth and understanding. Carina gently lowered Elena's trembling hands, their touch gentle and reassuring.

"Elena, we're not trying to force you into anything," Maya whispered, her voice filled with empathy. "But we're genuinely concerned about your health, especially with the ongoing pandemic. You've already taken insulin injections for years, and we know you're incredibly brave. We just want to be there to support you through this."

Carina added, "We love you, Elena, and we want you to be safe and healthy. We're not asking you to do this alone. We'll be with you every step of the way."

Elena's shoulders shook as she tried to hold back her tears. Their love and concern were evident, and she knew they were right. Her fear of needles, while deeply rooted, couldn't be allowed to jeopardize her health, especially when she had two loving partners by her side.

With a sigh of surrender, Elena nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay, I'll try. But please, promise me you'll be there with me."

Maya and Carina exchanged relieved glances, their hearts filled with love for Elena. Maya kissed the top of Elena's head, her lips brushing against her soft hair. "We promise, Elena. We'll support you through this, no matter what."

Carina added, "You're incredibly brave, and we're so proud of you for taking this step."

Elena called her primary doctor that morning to book an appointment for the afternoon. She decided to try to get all the shots she was due for in one appointment. She would rather be done all together than come back. After the call, all of them showered and decided to sleep in before they had to go to the appointment.

“Amore, it’s time to get ready… Amore?” Carina wrapped her arms around Elena in bed. “I know you are fake sleeping.” Carina is only met with a hitched breath that transitions to rapid breaths. “Hey, none of that. Everything is okay. Deep breaths.” Carina turns the woman to face her to see tears streaking down her face.

“Let’s sit you up,” Maya comes out of the bathroom watching the events unfold. “Follow my breathing, babe. It’s okay. Inhale. Hold. Exhale… Inhale. Hold. Exhale…” Maya repeats it a few more times, getting Elena’s panic attack settled before it even starts.

“I’m… I’m sorry… Please… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to.” Elena’s raspy voice cried out.

“How about we just change and get into the car and decide from there? This way if you do decide to go, you’ll be on time,” Carina logically thought out in hopes Elena would agree which she did by nodding her head.

They get up and ready in minutes before making their way to Carina’s car. Maya opted to sit in the back with Elena knowing one of her love languages is physical touch and it was pretty obvious how nerve-wrecked she was. Elena tried her best to be as composed as possible not wanting to burden Maya and Carina much more as it is but she just couldn’t hold herself together.

Maya and Carina kept glancing at each other through the mirror and both had reservations if this was too much on the woman they loved. They didn't realize just how deeply rooted this fear was and how hard it would be to actually get her to the appointment. They’ve talked to each other about ways to ease Elena into this whole process but they all revolved around therapy, which Elena refused, and just ripping the bandaid. It was going to be rough either way but they just didn’t realize how bad it was going to be.

As minutes ticked by and the closer they got to the doctor’s office, Elena was beginning to unsettle underneath Maya’s hands that rubbed her thighs and hands trying to relieve some fear.

“We are here,” Carina announces, putting the car in park and turning back to her two favorite women. Elena’s head snapped up as her thoughts made her lose track of time. She was here. She was about to get her shots. Surprising both Maya and Carina, Elena hops out of the car and the other two are quick to follow when they see Elena dry-heave over a patch of grass they parked by.

“Oh, babe. Get it all out.” Maya rubs Elena’s back as Carina puts her hair in a makeshift bun. “It’s okay. We are here with you. We got you.”

“All finished?” Carina questions minutes since the last dry heave episode. Elena nods her head and accepts the piece of gum Carina extends to her.

“Thanks… Guys, I don’t think I can do it. It’s too much. My head feels lightheaded and I can’t control my thoughts or breathing. This is a bad idea.”

“None of that. “ Maya grabs the woman’s cheeks gently. “Look at how far you’ve come. I think getting her might be the hardest part and that is done. When we are inside just keep your eye on me and Carina. We will hold together when you feel at your weakest. We have you, Elena.”

That was enough reassurance and motivation to get Elena through the doors of the doctor’s office and eventually inside an examination room.

Inside, the nurse prepared the vaccines, explaining each one to Elena. As she approached with the first needle, Elena's heart raced, and she clenched her eyes shut, gripping the sides of the exam table tightly.

Maya and Carina watched with concern, their hearts aching for Elena. Maya whispered, "It's okay, Elena. We're right here."

Carina added softly, "Just one at a time, love. You can do this."

With their words of encouragement, Elena braced herself for the first shot. It stung, but it was over quickly. She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, her hands trembling. Carina leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Elena's forehead, offering comfort.

The nurse administered the next shot, and Elena winced again, but she was determined not to back down. She had come this far, and she couldn't let her fear control her.

Maya held Elena's hand tightly, her eyes never leaving Elena's face. "You're so brave, Elena. We love you. Keep taking deep breaths."

Carina added, "We're proud of you, Tesoro."

#greys anatomy #maya bishop #maya x carina #maya bishop x reader #maya bishop x carina deluca x reader #carina deluca x reader #carina deluca #station 19 #station 19 x reader #station 19 fanfiction #fanfic

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

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For the fic writer ask meme, #8: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here's a bit from An Elephant Is Soft And Mushy, where after Kenpachi goes on a short visit to what will later be Hueco Mundo, he and Byakuya sit down to do some scheduling late at night:

Warnings: This is the result of the Angst Goblin in my brain suddenly remembering Bleach OVA content and realizing that it makes several people's backstories much, MUCH worse, and not so much kicking the door in as blowing it away with a #suffering shotgun. Discussion of a canon character death, and an additional implied death :)

(tagging @cesium-sheep because you wanted to see what I was going to do with the characters.)

***

“...Ken-chan?.” Yachiru glared from the doorway, rubbing the dark circles forming under her eyes. “Its really late.”

“I know, I know.” Zaraki sighed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nm.” Yachiru mumbled, shaking her head and leaning on the doorframe.

“Hand me that pillow behind you.” Zaraki pointed, sitting up and shifting positions so his leg was sticking out beside him.

“Ta. C’mere.” he nodded, taking the pillow from Byakuya and setting it in his lap. Yachiru plodded over, waved at Byakuya briefly while yawning, and curled up beside Zaraki’s leg, head on the pillow and shoulders in his lap. He returned his attention to the patrol schedule, changing which hand he was writing with to gently stroke her hair.

“...I didn’t know you were ambidextrous.” Byakuya blinked. Perhaps this was the key to his success as a swordsman with no experience in kendo?

“Nah, I’m Buddhist.” he shrugged. “Right, where were we-?"

"I believe were up to May." nodded Byakuya, tabling his questions of handedness for now.

"May... That’s right before graduation and when everyone who is gonna quit or transfer does, right before summer scheduling so I’ve got a skeleton crew until the end of June-”

“Every division has the same problem, but yours does tend to suffer it more severely.” Byakuya agreed, watching Yachiru roll over and pull Zaraki’s leg closer like a stuffed toy, apparently setting quickly. "Prob'ly a terrible idea, but what about dropping bait in a few tactical spots so we draw the hollows to places that can be managed with fewer patrols, rather than try to cover more ground.” Zaraki suggested, tapping a few open plains on the map.

“It’s been done in the middle districts with good results.” Byakuya nodded. “The difficulty is in the cities, where there is too much cover to patrol effectively, and in the more remote regions, where bait doesn’t have the range to effectively draw the hollows in. But it may alleviate some of the staffing issues…”

Half an hour later they’d worked out a reduced patrol schedule that would still likely catch the majority of hollows approaching human settlement, when they were interrupted by Yachiru’s soft snores. Zaraki paused mid-sentence to grin apologetically, and turned his attention back to Yachiru, shaking her shoulder until she rolled over and quieted down.

“She sleeps very soundly, but not if you’re absent?” Byakuya asked, watching the girl in the yellow lamplight.

“Yeah, but it’s not really a surprise.” Zaraki shrugged. “If anything, it’s that she’s taken to sleeping in her own bed as much as she has.”

“At her age?” Ages were a relative thing in the soul society, but Yachiru was reading well and getting her adult teeth, as she had demonstrated her loose incisor at the last captain’s meeting- by the time he’d done so, Byakuya had been commanded to sleep in his own room for well over a decade.

“I mean- Sure, she’s five hundred thirty-eight now, but she spent nearly all of that homeless with me. She was just a cabbage when I found her, and you don’t sleep without something between you and the ground, but you really don’t let a baby sleep where they’ll get cold, so for the first couple decades she slept inside my Kosode, then after it was on my chest, and then when she got to heavy for that she slept in my lap and now it’s by my back or under my arm.” He explained fondly, stroking her hair out of her face. “I’ve been her bed for half a millennium now, and I’ll probably be her bed when I’m ten thousand years old and nothing but bones and liver spots.”

Byakuya was silent for a long time.

…Had he ever slept in his father’s arms? If he did, he had no memory of it.

“That’s a miserable mug.” Kenpachi said, nudging his arm.

“I am rather morose this evening, it seems.” He sighed, looking out at the moon.

“Any hope of cheering you up?” he offered, gesturing around the small room that made his home, broadly offering whatever he had on hand.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not think so.” Byakuya shook his head.

“Ah. Monsoon mood kind of thing.” Kenpachi nodded, and frowned, turning something over in his head. “If you’re already going to be miserable, can I ask something awful?”

Byakuya tilted his head a bit to indicate he was listening.

“Yachiru goes to your place a lot- don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for every minute you’re willing to watch her. Was hard enough taking care of her out in the Rukongai, but now with the job- thanks.”

“It is… pleasant. To have her company.” Byakuya nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with her care.”

Kenpachi nodded in acknowledgement, chewing his lip. “...Last time, when I came to pick her up, I saw a lotta toys in the compound. Cute stuff- dolls, the tea set she badgered you and Jushiro into playing tea ceremony with her- But no other kids. You an’ Rukia really are the last generation, aren’t you? At least, until one of you is lucky enough to have kids.”

Byakuya looked up at Kenpachi, eyes hardening a bit in suspicion.

“...You used to be married.” Kenpachi continued.

Byakuya glared outright.

“-My condolences. Honestly. I’m not so lucky in love as you were, and losing her suddenly like that must’ve felt like getting your chest ripped open, ‘cept you don’t get the mercy of dying too.”

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Byakuya demanded, voice hard and dangerously quiet..

“I worked with a lotta women, and saw the problems they have up close. Retsu’s a damn good doctor, but even she can’t stop something if she doesn’t know it’s there to stop. Like an internal hemorrhage or septic infection, where there’s no outside problem and everyone tells women they’ll be sick and in pain during a pregnancy, so she just ignores it for a few hours but by then-”

He was interrupted by the crunch of wood as Byakuya’s fingers dug into the table.

“What was her name?” Asked Kenpachi.

“Hisana.” Byakuya growled. “My wife’s name was Hi-”

“-Not her.” Kenpachii growled back. “Who was the little girl all those toys at the compound were intended for?”

Byakuya froze.

“You had the baby sexed, or you wouldn’t have gotten dolls and tea sets. Surely you picked out a name.” Kenpachi met his gaze, cool and unflinching like iron. “What was your daughter’s name?”

For a minute, there was only the horrible numbess of grief.

“...Noriko.” Byakuya finally whispered, hands shaking as he let go of the table and hid his face. “My daughter’s name was Noriko.”

“Noriko.” Kenpachi nodded. His face didn’t exactly change but the hardness was gone.

Byakuya choked, hands pressed to his mouth. “I never- nobody’s ever said her name aloud-”

“Noriko.” Kenpachi repeated, and Byakuya sobbed. “Noriko, daughter of Hisana and Byakuya.”

Byakuya crumpled, hand clasped to his mouth to try to stifle the sobs, staring at Yachiru, still snoring in her father’s lap, tears streaming down his face and staining his scarf. There was a weight on his shoulder. It belonged to Kenpachi’s hot, scarred hand.

“I’m sorry.” Kenpachi’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes maybe just a bit red too. “But I needed to know, so I can ask what I actually need to ask.”

“What?” Byakuya whimpered, staring back at him.

Instead of answering, Kenpachi let go and shook Yachiru’s shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo.”

“Mgh?” She blinked.

“I need to get up a minute and your uncle needs a hug.” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position.

“ -’kay.” she yawned, getting up and plodding over to Byakuya and leaning into his shoulder, eyes still closed. He held her, trying to not squeeze too hard, face in her own shoulder, gasping-

“Bya-chan?” She mumbled, blinking at him. “You okay?”

“Just- Just missing someone.” he stammered. Kenpachi was rifling through the file cabinet on the other side of the room.

“Oh. Here-” Yahiru said, straightening up and hugging him back properly.

He couldn’t stop the sob this time, squeezing Yachiru to his chest for a long moment. “...Thank you, Kusajishi-san.” “ ‘s Yachiru.” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him. “Sorry, ‘m really tired…”

“-Curl up on him, I can’t find the damn thing I was looking for.” Kenpachi called from the other side of the room.

“ -‘kay. G’night.” Yachiru mumbled, sliding down Byakuya’s chest and immediately settling in his lap. He had to fight the urge to sob again, trying to hold still and cradle her. He watched her eyelashes flutter and she drifted off, the way she wiggled to make herself more comfortable, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept-

“She out?” Kenpachi asked, peering over the table.

“Y-yes, I believe so.” Byakuya whispered, trying to not wake her.

“Good, I don’t want her hearing and worrying.” Kenpachi grunted, sitting down again and placing a file folder on the table between them. “Sorry to ask you such a bitch of a question but- Well. Needed to know the measure of man you are.”

Byakuya watched as Kenpachi pulled off his haori off his left shoulder, with a small grunt of pain, followed by the same shoulder of his kimono and kosode- Byakuya belatedly realized the thing that had looked off about Kenpachi earlier was that his uniform was closed up properly for once, as he stared at the bandages, gauze, still-healing stitches and brace that was only barely holding the left half of his ribcage together.

Apparently the campaign in the realm of the hollows had been harder on Kenpachi than he had let on.

“Restu said the blade that fucking thing had got within half an inch of my heart, and that almost wouldn’t have mattered with the amount of broken bones and other damage.” he explained, wheezing “I have the devil’s own luck somehow, but I’m not convinced that I’m actually immortal, so I needed to know-” he pushed the file folder closer to Byakuya and opened it, revealing legal documents.

“-If something happens to me, will you be Yachiru’s Godfather?” He asked,head bowed and his only mobile hand up like he was begging. “You’re her favorite person in this city after me, and now I’m sure you’ll take good care of her-”

"You are spectacuarly bad at diplomacy, Zaraki." Byakuya sighed as signature was already drying on the paper.

#Bleach #fanfic ask game #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #AEIWAM #ANGST #:)#kenpachi zaraki #byakuya kuchiki #yachiru kusajishi #long post

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ayeforscotland · 9 months

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Hiii, so I have a question that is also a story kind of.

So today I met six absolutely pished Scots and an English on a train, which is unusual for me since I live in Germany.

We talked a bit about Brexit and such, and when I mentioned that as a half-educated outsider it seems to me that the best thing Scotland can do would be to exit the UK and rejoin the EU, the English bloke tried to explain to me how both bc of patriotism and the deep history between Scotland and England, he and most of the guys think it's better to leave it as it is. Brexit may have fucked them over big time but he voted Leave as well because of the wage gap.

I don't know if it was bc he was pished but I didn't really get his point. Then again, I also never lived there so I suppose I can't. Nevertheless, can you explain what he meant?

(Also they were super nice about the whole thing, when I told them I haven't decided on a name yet bc I only just started T one of them asked for options. And yea I just let seven strangers decide my name. It's Jamie now, according to them)

((Lots of love from across the pond!❤️ I really love your blog))

Hello, glad you like my blog!💙

Patriotism and deep history don’t mean shit to the vast majority of people struggling to pay for electricity and feed their families. Brexit has contributed to a huge wave of shit that’s hitting food prices and the hospitality sector at the moment. Not to mention NHS staffing issues and a huge host of other problems.

No idea what they’re on about regarding the ‘wage gap’ - that sounds like made up shite they’ve heard second hand.

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brostateexam · 1 year

Text

Writers have always endured indignities in Hollywood. But, as long as there are millions to be grabbed, the trade-off has been bearable—except when it isn’t. The past month has brought the discontent of television writers to a boiling point. In mid-April, the Writers Guild of America (the modern successor to the Screen Writers Guild) voted to authorize a strike, with a decisive 97.85 per cent in favor. The guild’s current contract with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers expires on May 1st; if the negotiations break down, it will be the W.G.A.’s first strike since late 2007 and early 2008. At issue are minimum fees, royalties, staffing requirements, and even the use of artificial intelligence in script production—but the over-all stakes, from the perspective of TV writers, feel seismic. “This is an existential fight for the future of the business of writing,” Laura Jacqmin, whose credits include Epix’s “Get Shorty” and Peacock’s “Joe vs. Carole,” told me; like the other writers I spoke to, she had voted for the strike authorization. “If we do not dig in now, there will be nothing to fight for in three years.” TV writers seem, on the whole, miserable. “The word I would use,” Jacqmin said, “is ‘desperation.’ ”

How did it come to this? About a decade ago, in the era of “Mad Men,” “Breaking Bad,” and “Veep,” TV writing seemed like one of the coolest, best-paying jobs a writer could have. As with the talkie boom of the nineteen-thirties, playwrights and journalists were flocking to Hollywood to partake in the heyday of prestige TV. It was fun. “We were all just trying to figure out, like, where to live. How do we sublet? Do we buy a car? Do we rent a car?” Liz Flahive recalled. In 2008, Flahive had just had a play produced Off Broadway when she got hired to write for “Untitled Edie Falco Project,” which became Showtime’s “Nurse Jackie.” TV, unlike big-budget movies, was a writers’ medium, and it was undergoing a creative explosion. “The old-timey mentality was: you go work in TV, and it breaks your brain, and you learn all these terrible habits,” Flahive said. “But you didn’t. You were writing great scenes, and for really good actors.”

The “Nurse Jackie” writers’ room, Flahive recalled, “was half queer, majority female. It was half people who had done TV for a long time, and half people who had never done TV before.” But it was possible to learn. “I turned in my first script, and the co-E.P.s sat me down and said, ‘This is really great. But this is the most expensive episode of television ever written. It’s a half-hour show, and you have forty-one setups.’ I was, like, ‘What’s a setup?’ And they explained, ‘If you set this scene here, and you write this scene here, this is a whole company move, and this is a whole new set we have to build.’ And then I got to take that script and go sit on set and actually see what it meant when you write ‘EXT. SUBWAY PLATFORM,’ and why that’s complicated.”

Flahive rose through the ranks of “Nurse Jackie” and went on to co-create the Netflix comedy “GLOW” and the Apple TV+ anthology “Roar,” both with the playwright and producer Carly Mensch. But, in the intervening years, the profession has devolved. Streamers are ordering shorter seasons, and the residuals model that used to give network writers a reliable income is out the window. The ladder from junior writer to showrunner has become murkier, with some people repeating steps like repeating grades, and others being flung to the top without the requisite experience, in order to meet demand for new content. Studios are cutting writing budgets to the bone by hiring fewer people for shorter time periods, often without paying for lower-level writers to be on set during production, which makes it all but impossible to learn the skills necessary to run a show. On “Roar,” Flahive said, “we had to fight to budget for writers to prep and produce their episodes,” and some of her writers had never been to the set of shows they’d worked on, “which is astonishing to me.”

#long reads #tl;dr support your local union

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arizonaconservativegal · 6 months

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As you work in government, and think the government should be dramatically reduced, I was wondering where you think such cuts ought to start and how would you get enough people to agree with you? From where I stand, as someone who gained political consciousness in 2018(?) and has been leaning right libertarian ever since, it seems no one can agree even though we all see the same issue.

Well if I were dictator for a day, I'd eliminate the federal Department of Education because they pretty much do nothing of value.

But the real answer is that I wouldn't start by cutting any programs at all.

Sure I'm a libertarian who has a philosophical problem with pretty much every government program, and if I were building the system from the ground up, I wouldn't ever include most of what we ended up with, but since it's already there, that's not an option.

Besides, even as bloated as they are, most government offices/agencies/departments do have a handful of very necessary positions and good employees in them. They just also have an awful lot of jobs that no one would ever miss and a lot of employees who do nothing but take up space. You need to go through all of them with a fine tooth comb to figure out which ones should be kept, what can be consolidated, and what can be eliminated with no impact on services. And then you'd need to hang around long enough to figure out which individual people to keep (either in their existing roles or reassign them to more useful positions) and which ones are just dedicated to being useless.

The problem is that doing that properly takes a tremendous amount of time and you really can't leave it up to the bureaucrats within the departments. If you tell them to just cut staffing levels by a certain percentage, half of them will just go by last hired, first fired and the other half will deliberately cut critical and public facing positions to create political demand for their funding to be restored.

If I were really going to go through all that, I'd start by identifying the positions to cut and then let attrition do its thing. Useless positions do not need to be replaced when vacated. Not actually firing anyone gets you around civil service protections and if you do your targeting well, the only people who will really squawk will be union bosses upset about dwindling membership numbers. The two tricks here are a) you still have to replace the positions that are necessary and start consolidating responsibilities so you can't skip that first step of figuring out what those are and b) you cannot let politics determine which positions are cut. All services levels must be maintained, even in programs that we disagree with politically.

The next thing I would do - which would be much harder - is reform those civil service and union protections. We need to be able to fire people who do not do their jobs adequately or who are no longer needed. Right now that's pretty much impossible so instead of firing them, we shuffle them off to another position - and usually that comes with a promotion and raise so they can't claim they're being treated unfairly. Or we just hire a second person to do the job the first one won't or can't do but instead of replacing the first person with the second person, we just pay two people to do one job at the same time.

The trade I would make is to eliminate or drastically increase pay caps for high performing employees and for positions that we have trouble hiring/retaining qualified employees. Too often we lose highly effective employees because the only thing we can do to reward them is to promote them out of their area of skill. And we simply cannot hire a talented lawyer or tech worker for $75k when they could be making two or three or ten times that in the private sector. Sorry, I know no one wants to pay government employees more but when we have a team of ten shitty employees getting paid $50k each, that's a lot more expensive than getting one good one who will actually do the job for $200k.

(If I could, I'd also put new employees on a 401k style retirement plan - I'd even offer a very generous match - and never put them in the pension system. It would save us a ton of money and frankly, those employees would be better off in the long run for having control of their retirement funds. But that's a separate issue and possibly a bigger hurdle than cutting jobs.)

Only when all that was done, and after several years had gone by so the public would see that the reductions in workforce really didn't hamper the service they received, that's when I'd think about starting to cut actual programs.

And then I would start with the Department of Education.

#oops this got long

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library-of-cronos · 1 year

Text

Help Wanted

Happy Truce @brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics! I liked your “ghosts get a job at Casper High” prompt, so I went with that :)

Ao3

Staffing had always been an issue at Casper High, what with the constant ghost attacks. Teachers quit, classrooms were destroyed, and every other day it seemed like poor Mr. Lancer was teaching a new subject. It was clear the man was stressed out of his mind. It didn’t help that his students cared less and less about the subjects he taught with each passing day.

So, with all of the grace of a man stress-balding and losing so much sleep he could put ghosts to shame, he asked politely (nearly begged on his hands and knees on the floor of the Nasty Burger where he was eating(?) lunch) for the teenage ghost, Phantom, to please please convince some of his less violent friends to come teach classes for even a single day.

Pride be damned, even if he didn’t think it would work, he was willing to try anything for a day off. He hadn’t honestly expected it to work.

"Sure." Phantom said, shrugging and taking another bite of his half-eaten burger. He said this while chewing his meal. "Pretty sure they’d find it funny."

"...Funny?" Mr. Lancer squinted, his eyes red and irritated from the lack of sleep and his stomach burning from the caffeine. "They would find it...amusing?"

"To ‘teach those little brats a lesson’ for a day?" He mocked someone with a higher voice, but quickly went back to normal. "Hell yeah, she’d like that." He took a long, drawn-out sip from his soda, which was nearing its end. "There’s a couple others who would do it, for a price."

"Please." Mr. Lancer choked out, his desperation and sleep deprivation leaking through. "Just for one day. That’s all I ask."

Phantom shrugged nonchalantly, humming in response. "Sure. Don’t worry about showing up tomorrow." He finished the rest of his meal quickly, then threw it all out in the trash before lifting himself off the ground. He turned back to the teacher briefly. "But if you want a good laugh, I’d say stick around."

He vanished after giggling behind his hand and laughing all the way through the ceiling. Mr. Lancer sighed in relief that his plan had worked, and promptly collapsed onto the nearest booth.

Mr. Lancer didn’t have high hopes at first—God knows no one could reason with the likes of even the Box Ghost to stop destroying the town for one day—but he prayed and hoped (and prayed again) for just a mere day off.

He had woken up the next morning with no intent of going to his job and decided that even if Phantom couldn’t pull off the impossible, he would damn the consequences of not showing up for his classes. Of course, after spending approximately twenty extra minutes in bed desperately trying and failing to go back to sleep, his body screamed at him to get up and go to school out of habit.

The actions of getting up, getting dressed, packing up his things, and driving to school were all blurry in his head, but the one thing he noticed was that the streets were devoid of all ghost fights, including the GIW, Red Huntress, and the Fenton’s.

Casper High itself was quiet too. He looked up at the second floor while getting out of his car, half expecting it to be on fire without him. It stood proudly, not on fire, contrary to what he would have believed five minutes ago. He walked in the front door, maybe expecting the inside to lead to a ghost dimension, but it too was normal. The usual receptionist greeted him with a kind smile and a pleasant ‘good morning’.

Shaking his head, and thoroughly confused, he made his way to his first-period history classroom. He heard a single, calm voice behind the walls. The door opened, but he couldn’t have fathomed who was behind it.

A green-skinned ghost in a sky-blue gown, blonde hair held up regally, was floating at the front of the room, in front of a chalked-up blackboard, teaching in his place. A few students glanced over at his entrance, but other than that, every student was watching, listening, and taking notes on her lecture of the Middle Ages.

She glanced at him as well, nodding politely, before going back to her topic. He stood in the middle of the doorway, stunned, mouth agape. In the midst of his moments of staring, he noticed the staff name tag buttoned to her dress.

‘Dora’.

Mr. Lancer didn’t need to know any more. He wasn't going to question how Phantom, the teen-hero and enemy of ghosts, persuaded a ghost the teacher had never seen before to teach in his class at his school.

He walked to the vending machine, and mindlessly got a can of coffee. He spent what must have been the rest of the class ‘enjoying’ that terrible, bitter drink on a bench in the halls. It was the only break he’d gotten in the past month, and he wasn’t going to take it for granted by being suspicious of the ghost who’d given it to him.

The bell rang loudly, startling him. He put a hand over his rapidly beating heart, and took a calming breath, then put the empty can in the recycling bin and traversed the student-filled halls to his next class. For some reason, everyone was in a good mood today (seeing as no one slapped his head or called him silly names).

His second period class was in the computer lab. He had left his suitcase of teaching material somewhere along his journey from the front desk to where he currently stood outside the computer hall, though, and he’d already forgotten what it was supposed to be, so even if he wanted to teach, that was out the window.

Shaking his head and sighing deeply, he slid the door open to another strange scene.

The white-haired, electric-powered ghost that everyone knew by name because he shouted it out at every opportunity (almost rivaling the Box Ghost in that department), stood next to Mr. Baxter, guiding him along a research paper while monologuing about the sizes and fonts proper essays should be in. He would stop his rant to give advice or to praise the student for doing something well, but otherwise he chatted about the beauty of machines and how he decided to leave Phantom alone if it meant he got to be in a room with so many gorgeous electronics.

It was only then that Mr. Lancer noticed a trail of electricity running from his feet to each computer that was in use. If he squinted, the teacher could have sworn he saw a mini Technus displayed on the students’ screens, moving around and guiding them through their headphones.

He left, no one having seen him enter in the first place. The teacher decided to spend the rest of the class collapsed in the empty staff room. His weeks of insomnia were catching up to him, even with the coffee.

"Doin’ alright, teach?" A tiny laugh came from directly above him.

Without opening his eyes, he knew who it belonged to.

"Yes, Phantom." Sighing into his hands, he said. "However, I didn’t realize having the day off would be so stressful."

He snickered giddily, and Mr. Lancer loathed that he could not find this situation as amusing as he and his friends did. "Oh, and you haven’t even seen the best part yet."

"Please do not tell me." He shook his head and sighed again, somehow even more tired than before. "I would prefer to remain unaware for as long as possible."

"You got it, Mr. Lancer." He made a zipping sound, and presumably made the same action across his mouth. "My lips are sealed."

The room went quiet after that, and Mr. Lancer could only assume he had vanished through the ceiling again.

When the bell rang obnoxiously loud some time later, he slowly hoisted himself up from the chair and slugged over to the music room. This time, Mr. Lancer had an idea who would be behind this door. There was really only one ghost who had a music theme, though he had no idea why she would want to teach when the last thing he knew, she was hypnotizing his poor students into doing her bidding.

"Listen punks." Her voice was heard even through the door. It was...surprisingly gentle (considering her bold personality). "It’s 1, 3, 4." Three notes on an electric guitar played slowly. "Then 6, 8, 4, 44." Four more notes played. "Got it?"

Mr. Lancer heard a few affirmations, and the guitar shifted around. After a second, those first three notes played, a bit off-key but still correct. Then the next four, this time better.

"Now, do it all at once." He could hear the pride in her voice.

The student played the whole thing, and Mr. Lancer could hear the lyrics behind the notes. As they played it slowly, he followed along in his head.

You will remember my name.

Ah, of course the music ghost would pass on her favorite song. He actually stayed outside the music room for the rest of class, listening in on Ember's instruction and simply enjoying the pleasant sounds of guitars and cheers whenever a student got something right (cheers from both teacher and friends).

Just before he knew class was going to end, he got up from the floor, brushed himself off, and went back to the staff lounge before lunch began.

As he sat down, he began to get a little worried when he realized Phantom seemed giddy about something he hadn’t seen yet, even though there was seemingly nothing to worry about with Ember teaching his class, but he pushed it out of his thoughts so as to not ruin his break.

He suddenly realized that he had not only left his briefcase somewhere in the corridors, but also his lunch at home. Sighing in disappointment, he left to try and choke down some cafeteria food if he didn’t want to go hungry.

He was about twenty feet away from the closed cafeteria doors when he heard the raucous. He recognized the screams as those of his own students and dashed in, only to be hit in the face with what felt like chocolate pudding, but looked like radioactive waste. He exclaimed in disgust, trying to wipe it off with a nearby napkin, but when the napkin screamed back at him, he dropped it in surprise.

With one eye closed behind some radioactive pudding(?), he finally looked around to find out what was happening.

Inside, if his vision wasn’t failing him, there were definitely more ghosts than the ones teaching today.

While the Box Ghost was lifting boxes of utensils and politely threatening students with them (who were in turn throwing food at him in retaliation), Technus was summoning pictures of food from a stolen computer to lob at a ring of mashed potatoes the students had made as a target. There was a blue dragon huddled in the corner with a bunch of freshmen, all seemingly taking naps. Ember was standing on a table and playing her guitar for a screaming crowd (none of whom were mind controlled, just enjoying the show).

And Mr. Fenton had Skulker in a headlock?

"Heya teach!" He called out from where he was, dragging a complaining Skulker closer. Upon seeing his confused look, he glanced down at the struggling ghost. "Don’t mind this loser. He was trying to ruin our party, so he’s on timeout."

"Right." Mr. Lancer numbly nodded. "Well." He looked around again. There was food everywhere, the tables were flipped haphazardly, the Lunch Lady (when did she get here?) was serving radioactive food, and the bell was going to ring in ten minutes for class to start again.

Then, when class started, poor Mr. Lancer would be left to deal with this unholy mess.

Well, he’d only be left to deal with the consequences if he were here today.

"Good luck with your...party, Mr. Fenton." He decided. "If anyone asks, I was sick today."

When the students smiled, it was almost wicked, with bared teeth and nearly glowing eyes. "I hope you enjoyed your day off, Mr. Lancer."

#Phandom holiday truce #christmas truce #truce 2022 #even though I posted this on 2023 #Danny Phantom #holiday truce 2022

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autisticandroids · 7 months

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tmwwbk/weekend at bobby's style crowley pov episode. thoughts? what happens?

so what you really need to make this work is a lackey of some kind. obviously, you could set it in season ten, with rowena, or maybe in season eleven, with amara, but i'm not super interested in that. my ideal time of a weekend at crowley's would be in seasons seven, eight, or nine: seven and eight because his rule is reasonably stable so it would make a good day-in-the-life episode, nine because the abaddon civil war could have been the most interesting hell-plot in the series if that writers room wasn't exclusively staffed with complete boneheads.

anyway so. lackey. one of my favorite crowley interactions in the whole series is with the demon who tells him she's playing both sides in road trip. great weird little demon. she should be his sidekick for ever and ever.

so you have a lackey like that, a trusted buddy for crowley to actually rely on. then you would need a set of sort of... demonic stock office characters, at least one of whom you are willing to kill off. so have brutish lackey who is always suggesting they kill everyone, cowardly lackey who is scared of brutish lackey, (these are bodyguards), someone who is running the crossroads now that crowley's too big for those britches and keeps trying to get him to come resolve a problem, but there's another issue that needs his attention so he's ignoring that, another demon trying to give him quarterly earnings numbers. crowley is trying to like. i don't know. let's do season seven. crowley is trying to micromanage/backseat drive a group of demons who are on a quest to retrieve a leviathan killing doohickey from a special crypt or something. he keeps trying to make them not hang up on him while the rest of hell demands his attention.

halfway through the episode crowley storms off to a room alone, and we get 2.5 minutes of mark sheppard pretending to play with invisible dogs to de-stress. which is something i would really enjoy.

then three quarters of the way through the episode the demon quest guys come back with the leviathan killing doohickey and it turns out not to work. crowley does NOT kill those guys but he does kill a different demon who told him about the doohickey in the first place.

then he finally answers a call from the crossroads section only to find that half of them have been slaughtered by an ancient evil they keep in a box in the crossroads department, because no one there has actually been trained in putting it back in the box, because crowley and his favored lackeys had to go run hell when he got the promotion. so crowley ends up having to train up the remains of crossroads department, which he's been neglecting.

#spn #asks #anonymous

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copperbadge · 1 year

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not to add a downer, and without any sources, either! but airline food 'technology' still has a human element. few years back i purchased a PBS docu for my airplane bud, and they had a short but illuminating how-it's-made clip of the food makers. still a lot of TLC involved among the machines. so given the seismic changes of the pandemic, i fear there were people eliminated from the chain

Yeah, after you sent this ask (sorry for the delayed reply!) I did some googling and digging and while I couldn't find any reports on downstaffing, there were definitely articles about "well the airline could spend fifty cents more per meal and give you a really good one, but they won't" and also that supply chain interference was affecting it. I do think a lot has to do with the source -- flying out from America to London, with food supplied from an American caterer, was absolutely so much worse than flying back from Rome to America.

Part of it was that I think I chose more wisely -- on the flight out I got the "asian chicken and noodles" which, the chicken and noodles were fine but the sauce was so terrible I couldn't eat it. On the flight back I had the mushroom tortellini, which was quite good, and my seatmate got what was variously described (the flight attendant seemed a bit at a loss) as peri peri chicken, butter chicken, and curried chicken, which looked....less good. I think the same rule I have for sit-down catered events applies to airline food: always get the vegetarian option, because even if you aren't a big veggie fan (me) it's usually fresher and better because they make fewer of them.

The breakfast snack they served on the flight from the US to London was especially hilarious because it was literally just a chobani yogurt cup and a biscotti. Now, they did a hot beverage service too, but the chutzpah of making a biscotti, which you can't really eat unless you're dunking it in something, a full half of the food you serve to people who may or may not want coffee or tea, was breathtaking. Also I'm not sure how familiar people are with biscotti, like, it seems pretty common in the US, but my seatmate on that flight....just ate his biscotti straight, like it was a cookie or something. I know you CAN do that but it's so unpleasant. Did he not know? Or was he just desperate for food? I had granola bars so I wasn't hungry at any point but if I'd been depending on food service on the plane for my snacks I definitely would have been.

Anyway, the food quality may have been down to staffing or supply chain issues in part, and it's not like I'm going to never fly United again because of it. But definitely on my next long flight I will get the veggie option and also bring more and varied snacks.

#food #airline food #sam travels #the cheese tour

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skyloftian-nutcase · 10 months

Text

Ayooo (some) Healthcare Boys are back! :D

(@hermitdrabbles56 @squigglywindy)

The emergency department was busy.

Very busy.

It wasn't even the usual kind of busy, the hustle and bustle of residents falling behind on paperwork and orders, leading to a backup in the line for mild to moderately sick patients. It wasn't half the city's population using the ED as their primary care because they either didn't have the time, patience, money, or opportunity to get an actual primary care provider.

No, these patients were sick. They were actually having emergencies, and there were a lot of them.

Legend and Warriors were each caring for the sickest in the department. Both patients desperately needed ICU beds, and they knew they were in short supply. Warriors, keen on listening to the charge nurse and hospitalist's words about the status of beds and patient acuity, had already figured out that there was one remaining ICU bed in the entire hospital. A neighboring hospital also only had one bed available, and was willing to accept a patient.

That meant they had to decide who to fly and who to keep. That decision was already a difficult one, left to the emergency physician who was trying to parse it out, but the biggest dilemma wasn't even that.

It was the blasted hospitalist.

Warriors had mostly dealt with emergency personnel in the war. Most of his experience was in a field hospital, which had little beyond immediate, urgent care before shipping a patient to an actual hospital for continued treatment. It wasn't until the waning years of the war that he'd transferred off the front lines entirely.

In that time, he'd learned that he didn't like hospitalists. They were the physicians who took care of acutely ill and injured patients who were being hospitalized, the ones who would usually be on the floor. They also were the buffer between the ER and the rest of the floors - even an ICU patient had to go through their screening, alongside a critical care consultation with physicians trained in whatever specialty was needed. Hospitalists often had to juggle far more patients than was likely safe, which stretched them thin and burned them out. He'd heard there were good ones in Hyrule Hospital, but he'd yet to meet them.

This one definitely did not fall into the criteria of a good one.

"We need to figure out who to fly," the emergency physician remarked.

The hospital crossed his arms. "Whoever doesn't die first, I suppose."

Warriors froze midway through charting something, having been basically living in the patient's room as they were too ill for him to leave. He saw Legend, who was walking swiftly out of his own room to grab supplies, also screech to a halt.

The emergency physician glanced at the hospitalist and cut through his remark. "Let's just assume they both survive the night. We still need to figure this out."

"I think we should just board both of them here," the hospitalist remarked.

Board them? In the emergency department? Was he insane? The ER was not designed to house patients with intensive care needs. The ER stabilized people, fixed immediate issues, and then moved them to where they needed to go, whether it was a follow up with primary care, a bed in the acute care floors, to the operating room, or a straight shot up to an ICU room. ED nurses could have up to four patients - they didn't have the staffing to dedicate a nurse to just a single patient, as these two clearly needed the extra care and undivided attention. The hospitalist was suggesting they stay?

Legend whirled on the pair of physicians. "Absolutely not. These two patients need an ICU. That's inappropriate care."

"We have no beds," the hospitalist argued.

"We have one bed," Warriors fired back. "And the other hospital has one as well."

"Our ICU nurses can't handle this kind of patient," the hospitalist retorted.

Legend huffed. "Then they're not actual ICU nurses."

The emergency physician piped up, emboldened by the nurses. "They're right. These patients are absolutely not staying here."

The hospitalist's face grew sour, and he started to shuffle towards a computer elsewhere to look more thoroughly at the patients' charts again.

The emergency physician glanced at the pair. "Thank you."

Warriors and Legend both nodded, watching the doctor follow his peer to ensure he actually worked this out. The two nurses looked at each other next, just for a moment, a silent respect settling between them, before they went back to work.

XXX

Hyrule stared at the dispatch information. "Does... does this say entrapment at the Salvation Army?"

"How...?" Mo started to ask, just as confused. "What...?"

Dot laughed outright. "Oh my gosh, wait - look at the age. That's got to be Beedle."

Hyrule groaned. How in the world had Beedle gotten himself entrapped somewhere around the Salvation Army?

The pair quickly found out as they arrived with the fire department. Beedle had situated himself in the donation booth, smiling pleasantly as they arrived.

"Beedle," Hyrule immediately said, hands on his hips. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I saw some shady looking guy walking into the store," Beedle explained. "I wanted to make sure he didn't burn the place down! So I hid in here."

"How are you stuck?" Mo asked.

"I can't get out!" Beedle gestured around himself.

"Well how did you get in?"

Beedle pointed behind him. "There's a door here."

Mo and Hyrule looked at each other. Then the firefighters.

One of their coworkers chewed his lip, half exasperated and half amused. "So uh... did you try the door, then?"

Beedle blinked and turned around, jiggling at the latch a little before the door opened. "Oh! Thank you!"

"Oh my heaven," Mo muttered, face in his hands.

A police officer then approached. "Sir, the store manager is also citing you for trespassing."

Beedle jumped, clearly affronted. "Trespassing? I was protecting them!" With a huff, he added, "That's it! The next time a shady person walks by I'm just going to let them burn the store."

Hyrule had to cough to hide his laugh.

#lu in healthcare #writing #the frequent flyers we deal with #they crack me up #and that hospitalist needs a punch in the face and a retirement #what the actual hell #so proud of my coworker for standing up to him <3 #lu warriors #lu legend #lu hyrule

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fiftysevenacademics · 2 months

Text

True Detective Night Country started off so great then went nowhere fast. The finale was ridiculous, but that's what I had expected by the time it arrived. Below is a list of things that had me literally rolling my eyes or simply perplexed.

1. The science stuff was ludicrous from the get go. From the totally unrealistic depiction of an arctic research station staffed by a permanent crew of scientists year-round who never leave the station, to the notion that extracting ice cores is somehow a herculean task (it's relatively easy), to the fuzzy, garbled DNA mumbo jumbo, to the idea the mine funded this whole thing just to falsify environmental data (which is usually done by just, you know, making it up or presenting it selectively), not a shred of it made sense. It was stupid, half-baked nonsense. It was never fully explained why their DNA stuff was going to "save the world," or why they'd kill someone over it.

2. In S1, the spiral and hanging things, as well as the "time is a flat circle" stuff made sense as the distortion of a traditional rural folk practice by a deranged cult leader but here it made no sense. Why did Clark make those hanging things? What's the significance of the spiral? Why did he say time is a flat circle etc.? Annie spent time with him in that creepy RV. Was she into that, too, or did he do that after she died?

3. The implication that the spiral and "She" are part of the Native women's belief system.. Is this a thing or did they make it up for the show? "She" is probably meant to be Mother Earth, but this whole spiritual/supernatural part of the story felt cheesy and unoriginal to me.

4. I'm still confused about the frozen scientist who screamed when they found him. There was some comment later about amputating both legs of someone and not being able to speak to him yet, and then that whole issue disappeared. At some point, they might have mentioned in passing this person died? But they never explained how that guy was alive in the first place. There was some brief mention of how the scientists were discovering some kind of life extension superpower in this DNA. I thought it might come round to that but in the end there was no more thought given to the guy who was still magically alive and all they said about the DNA was it could "save the world."

4. Fiona Shaw was criminally underutilized. I loved her character and would love to have seen more of her.

5. Who left the tongue? Was it Peter Prior's dad?

6. How did Holden die? A car crash, but what happened? Where was Liz when it happened?

I liked that they built the story around the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women, and that in the end it turned out the women were the answer all along but no one even thought to ask them. It made the point that Native women are only visible to white law enforcement when they are murdered and even then, don't get the justice they deserve.

Great acting performances and it was a real treat to watch the actors interact. But for me, the emotional impact was blunted by the cheesiness and implausibility of other parts.

#true detective #true detective night country #true detective spoilers #my stuff

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