TVLINE: Kim scored a big win at Jimmy’s disbarment hearing, but it looks like she’s still wracked with guilt about what that did to Chuck.

Rhea Seehorn: I think it’s taking a toll on her. It’s a very large brick in a wall that was already being built. Because the Mesa Verde guilt is still weighing on her… the ill-gotten gains. One of the biggest things that shapes Kim this season is being forced to let go of living in black and white, and “good and bad” not being the same as “legal and illegal.” [Chuck’s] whole unraveling on the stand had so many implications. It’s a further trampling of any ideals Kim might have had, as someone who’s trying to operate on the right side of the law. To ruin someone like that… his career must be deeply damaged, if not over at that point. And that weighs on her.

And the alterations in Jimmy’s conscience, I think, Kim is observing as well. That causes a distance, for many reasons. He is her only confidant, and when you see Kim start to unravel, especially this scene at Mesa Verde… she’s not sleeping, she’s not even going home to shower. Control has been the way she’s gotten herself out of everything, up until now. And it’s beginning to be her Kryptonite. [At the hotel bar], she makes this attempt to tell Jimmy: “I’m starting to unravel,” just for a second to be that vulnerable. And unfortunately, in that moment, he goes further away. It’s sort of a lost opportunity, which makes that scene so terribly sad — not just us watching Jimmy start to lose his conscience, but Kim start to lose, really, her only anchor. It’s a terribly tragic scene. They’re not able to meet each other where they’re at. They’re both somewhere else.

Better Call Saul’s Rhea Seehorn on Kim’s Guilty Conscience, Jimmy Breaking Bad — and a Kim-Mike Scene? (TV Line - 05.22.17)

Ok, so, here’s what I think Marvel should do:

Eventually, the current Avengers cast is gonna age out. RDJ is in his 50s now, and by the end of infinity war a lot of contracts will be up and cast members may wanna move on to new things. Marvel will have made a shit ton of money by then, so, of course, they have the option to slow down and take a break. They also have the option to make more solo title films, and miniseries with Netflix (which I hope they do, starting with a BLACK GODDAMN WIDOW MOVIE). 

But if they want a superhero team, well, it’s way too early to reboot the Avengers. (especially seeing what a disaster the premature Spider-man reboot was).

So instead, plant some seeds for the next generation – Easter eggs, or cameos in the current films.

Give us more Cassie Lang, playing with her dad’s gear.

Give us a muslim girl in Jersey looking out her window in excitement as Carol Danvers flies by.

Give us a young black boy handing Cap back his shield with a smile and a salute.

Give us a dark-haired girl with a Hawkeye t-shirt picking out a bow and arrow at a sporting goods store.

And at the end of infinity war, kill Loki off. Let him go out in a grand fashion, a sacrifice play in a game played by his own rules, with a smirk on his face as he burns.

Then, in the post-credits scene, give us a shot of a street in Paris. A little boy picks a tourist’s pocket, then slips away into an alley before he’s spotted. The boy looks at his ill-gotten gains, then looks up at the audience and smiles, before waving his hand and prompting the screen to go dark in a flash of shimmering green. 

Give us the teaser:

Loki will return with the Young Avengers (2022)

Dear Viewer,

It has come to my attention that, despite my repeated warnings, you have viewed the Netflix adaptation of my distressing work, known collectively as A Series of Unfortunate Events. Some of you have even binged, a word which here means, “Watched several episodes right in a row, despite having much better things to do with your time.”

To my horror, Netflix had been encouraged by this, and funneled their ill-gotten gains towards a second season of this unhappy and unnerving series.
Even as we speak, set builders, costume designers and trauma specialists are snapping into action, the better to bring you even more upsetting episodes, all because of your reputed enthusiasm for this grim example of so-called family programming.

I hope you’re happy. Because you won’t be, ever again.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

A Brutal Subtext Behind 2CT

(Disclaimer: I’ve been feeling a bit more bloodthirsty because this arc has felt like a plastic plot line in a tin can. There’s such a lack of character depth/plot movement that I’m going stir crazy. We’ve literally dropped important characters in favor of a two dimensional villain and caricatures of who Ciel and Sebastian used to be. Yana has produced some quality work, complete with subplot tie-ins and *proper* character deconstruction but this arc feels like she isn’t even trying. But, moving on…

One of my favorite explanations of the 2CT theory stems from a post made by @dorkshadows (post here), where instead of having two loving brothers you have a fraternal relationship filled with anger, loathing, and jealousy on our!Ciel’s part. I don’t doubt their childhood had happy moments but I picture their dynamic to be more like Thor and Loki than say, Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Underneath all the affection and time spent together, I have no doubt that our!Ciel secretly despised his brother’s venerated position as the future heir to everything—the family name, company, lands, titles. Think about it, real!Ciel was the firstborn—the heir—and was probably the focus of everyone’s attention. Firstborn males are the most important family members—even more so than the patriarch. (To get an idea of how dismissive the Victorians were of second born sons, Consuelo Vanderbilt, wife to the 9th duke of Marlborough, nicknamed her sons “the heir and the spare.”)

To our!Ciel it must have been ten years of agonized longing—of silently seething and watching his brother get everything he’s ever wanted—that finally bubbled over during their time in captivity. When our!Ciel realized he finally had the chance to steal everything from real!Ciel, our!Ciel willingly sacrificed his brother to the cultists—even though he probably didn’t know a demon would appear as the result. This makes the entire situation all the more menacing—our!Ciel let the cultists take and kill his own brother without knowing a demon might appear. He let them take his twin out of pure, undiluted spite. It’s his way of saying “sure you were the heir to everything, sure you had mother, father, and Aunt Ann’s attention but now you don’t. There’s no one here but me—I’m finally in control and I get to see you perish first.”

It’s almost as if our!Ciel is Richard III—he certainly plays the part well enough. If we substitute real!Ciel for the princes in the tower (Edward V of England and his younger brother, Richard), then we get a dark parallel that’s made even more haunting by the fact that our!Ciel didn’t just end his brother life—he stole it right out from under him. And that relationship is the kind I want to see.

Something dark and sinister, full of vice, retribution, and the desire for revenge on both sides. (Cliched survivor’s guilt? No thanks. I’d take murderer’s guilt any day.*) We know our!Ciel is selfish—heck, he even admits it outright—but I want to see to what extent. How far will he go to protect his ill gotten gains? How many people will he kill/sacrifice/offer up just to achieve his own ends? (And I believe there’s a difference between Ciel burning a mansion full of lobotomized children he didn’t know and a potential confrontation with the twin who once had everything.)

Furthermore, how will real!Ciel react to all this? If he’s been brought back to life by Undertaker, he’s probably filled with betrayal, anger, confusion, and a desperate, unyielding desire to seek revenge—just like our!Ciel.

But this is real!Ciel. The happy, confident, extroverted heir—the one who was always meant to inherit everything. How will those three years—first in death, then in the Undertaker’s workshop, then at the Sphere Music Hall, and now, finally, brought back to life—how did it change him? If real!Ciel had always been the more charming, commanding “natural leader” of the two, then I don’t doubt he’ll use all his gravitas and strength to try and take our!Ciel down. But this lingering question remains—how far will he go? We know our!Ciel always had a survival instinct—something he’s probably honed since childhood (as mentioned by dorkshadows)—but real!Ciel never needed it.

He was the heir—he was going to get everything anyway. He never needed to be sly, duplicitous, cunning, or malicious. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have these traits—there is the very definite possibility that real!Ciel is more Machiavellian than our!Ciel—he just never acted on it. He never needed to. Our!Ciel blindsided real!Ciel by offering him up to the cultists and if real!Ciel’s actually back, then the playing field’s even (with real!Ciel having the dual advantage of surprise and three years of plotting). It’d be a violent, grotesque finale I don’t want to miss.

*To me, our!Ciel is like the thief who’s not the least bit sorry he stole but he’s awfully, awfully sorry he’s going to jail. (And yes, this is a quote from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind.)

Note: I know a lot of 2CT theorists are going to hate on this post for being too dark/dramatic/implausible but this is Kuroshitsuji. The manga whose very premise began with a cult torturing and defiling a ten year old boy in order to summon a demon from hell. The story’s bound to get darker as it moves towards the end. And, from what I’ve seen, Yana seems to despise cliches—she does everything in her power to subvert expectations so to put in a cliched “I dost loved my brother, I did!” seems like a pale imitation of shock—the true driving force would be to explore just how dark our!Ciel’s mindset was when he sacrificed his brother and how dark their reunion is going to be. As always, discussion is welcomed but please refrain from using derogatory terms, unsubstantiated arguments, and unnecessary online cruelty. Thank you.

caches | alfie solomons

You heard them crashing into the house and grabbed out for the gun tucked by the bed. You made it to the landing before you heard their voices, let your breath go, and stormed down.

“What is happening!?”

You made your way into Alfie’s office where he and Ollie were bent over his desk, frantically counting out notes.

“Fuck, we’re short”

“Alfie, what’s happening?”

He slammed the drawer closed, running his hands over his hair, straightening to look at you before he spoke.

“Tommy’s new friends are being a pain in my arse. Won’t sign this contract ‘til we have the first shipment down”

“We’re not excessively trusting people, it transfers”

“No, you’re not”

Keep reading

twryst  asked:

"I personally ship [insert not-wlw-ship here]" Why do ppl message this to a goddamn WLW blog? Anywhoo, sombra + symm is wonderful and beautiful, smn like: sombra frees symm from Vishkar's lies, Symbra go on a hack/infil spree to take it down, and then Symm uses combo Sombra tech & Viskar Intel to convince sombra to go vigilante hacker/architech duo _for actual good_ (assuming targets have siezable ill-gotten gains to satiate Sombra); morally complex and Symm's passion w/ Sombra's teases

Right?  Like okay thanks for this info buddy but idk what I’m supposed to do with it.

Also: Beautiful ship and plot 10/10 I’m gonna post this one publicly so everyone can see the goodness.

- Mod Rory


See something you like? a voice breathes into your ear.

You freeze in the act of taking a five-finger discount on a couple of pairs of black underwear at a department store in Corpus Christi. It’s not the first time you’ve shoplifted here; security is sparse, and you look like a perfectly nice girl to anyone who doesn’t know better. But in the few years you’ve been amusing yourself this way, it’s the first time you’ve been caught in the act.

Carefully, you place the underwear back onto the stack.

That’s it, honey, says the voice. Look at me.

You turn around slowly and see that the owner of the voice is familiar. It belongs to a woman about ten years older than you, with a soft pinup figure, a beautiful and meticulously made-up face, and long blonde hair–bleached; her roots are as dark as yours. You think she might be a manager. Your eyes travel down to her red lips and, almost helplessly, to her perfect breasts, framed immaculately by her black scoop neck shirt.

She follows your gaze and lifts an eyebrow.

Come here.

Keep reading

Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten (Town Musicians of Bremen) statue in Bremen, Northern Germany. The statue is based on a folktale recorded by the Brothers Grimm. In the story a donkey, a dog, a cat, and a rooster (or hen), all past their prime and usefulness on their respective farms, were soon to be discarded or mistreated by their masters. One by one they leave their homes and set out together. They decide to go to Bremen, known for its freedom, to live without owners and become musicians. On the way, they see a lighted cottage; they look inside and see 4 robbers enjoying their ill-gotten gains. Standing on each other’s backs, they decide to scare the robbers by making a din; the men run for their lives, not knowing what the strange sound is. The animals take possession of the house, eat a good meal, and settle in for the night. Later, the robbers return and send one of their members in to investigate. He sees the Cat’s eyes shining in the darkness and thinks he is seeing the coals of the fire. He reaches over to light his candle. Things happen in quick succession; the Cat scratches his face, the Dog bites him on the leg, the Donkey kicks him with his hooves, and the Rooster crows and chases him out the door, screaming. He tells his companions that he was beset by a horrible witch who scratched him with her long fingernails, an ogre with a knife, a giant who had hit him with his club, and worst of all, the judge who screamed in his voice from the rooftop. The robbers abandon the cottage to the strange creatures who have taken it, where the animals live happily for the rest of their days. 

The tale has been retold through cartoons, movies, and theater plays. Statues modeled after the animals now reside in front of each of the 5 official German veterinary schools. The story was adapted into an animated feature in 1997 under the title The Fearless Four (Die furchtlosen Vier), though it varied considerably from the source material. 


My DM: Hey, can you send me a short email with some details about your character?

Me (6 hours later): Here’s the brief history of my Cleric.

Name: Marna DuGorman
Age: 17
Hailing from the quiet, verdant foothills of Chendle Glen. Her people are human but are said to have descended from a bloodline laced with halfling ancestry. The men of the tribe are known to be amicable farmers, shepherds, artisans and little else but have also had a long history of being regularly drafted into the wars of neighboring kingdoms.  This constant recruitment by their larger and less peace loving neighbors has left the men of this province to fulfill what has been coined as “Chendle’s Charge”. Over the course of the last few centuries, this has left the Chendles with generations worth of community history in which the women made up the vast majority of the population.  They have worked the land, maintained the homes and written the history of their people while their loving husbands were forced to fight and die for wars they couldn’t believe in because a man cannot fight for a cause he never knew existed.

The medicine women of Chendle Glen are followers of Pelor, the God of light and extremely adept healers. The unfortunate upturn of violence in surrounding kingdoms, in previous decades however has proven to be taxing on their community. War has made their boys into cripples, shut ins, and worse yet, cold, hard unfeeling men.  In order to treat the wounds of the body and the mind in such scale and volume, the Chendle healer women have turned to more unconventional but unarguably effective practices than had ever been explored by their distant forebears.

The Pilgrimage of Lenara:
Lenara DuGorman; My character Marna’s great grandmother was only 14 when the War of the Sparrow Rivers provided yet another dark age for Chendle Glen and its ever mending families. The men were taken by King Roenid the Cursed and his red clad knights but Lenara would not let her brother Rett be taken, at least not alone.  While she could not keep the red marauders from dragging away every boy and man who could hold a spear, she could pack a bag and she could keep pace with their march toward the now cratered and war torn banks of the Sparrow Delta.  For months, Lenara tended to the injured and fallen, seeing to proper burials for the dead and proper comfort for the suffering. In the red camp, she grew skilled at mending and soothing while her brother found that he had no choice but to become fierce and at times savage as he was forced to defend his beloved sister from the uncouth and desperate footmen who fought alongside him. 

This went on for years. Beyond the war for the Sparrows and over many borders. Lenara grew to know the smell of soldiers’ blood as any other woman of her upbringing would have known the smell of her children.  Rett never stopped protecting her up until his final day. She lost him in a sandstorm crossing the Khan-Kabar desert while marching toward the stone city of Esmir; yet another land to be violently contested in the name of Roenid the Cursed.  Most of that party were lost in that crossing but Lenara made it to the the other side where she realized that there was little reason for her to stay with the few surviving men who now revered her as an asset but would never respect her as an equal. Rett had fulfilled Chendle’s Charge and Lenara was left alone with no purpose other than finding her way home to let the rest of the Chendles know of their loss. 

Lenara struck off shortly after the desert crossing. She had been paid nothing but wisdom for her years of aid. She carried little else but grief for her lost brother on her journey. With only a basic understanding of which direction to go, she found that there are dozens, perhaps hundreds of languages outside of the Glen. So many that she could never learn half of them in a thousand lifetimes. Every town was alien to Lenara and she in turn, to it… but all living things know pain and sickness. This was her key to every gate. Her bargaining chip. Her currency. 

Lenara crossed hundreds of cities on her journey home. She helped whoever was in need and was rewarded for her compassion more often than not. There was only one place in which Lenara could find no use for her craft and it was there that she learned a bitter truth. “The world is vast and I know nothing”. It was a place so perfect that it somehow inspired only hopelessness. 

Lenara had found a land untouched by pain, sickness or even madness. It was here that she gave up hope of finding her home. She sat and waited for misfortune. The scourge of an inevitable oppressor. The cold of winter. The collapse of her tired, starved body. The release of death. The warm light of Pelor’s final grasp. None of it came. Nor would it. This tiny, hidden land was beyond decay and so was she, just as long as she stayed within its borders. 

The denizens of this realm were, and are (for they will no longer allow themselves to expire) practitioners of dark magic. Wielders of the type of energy that can produce anything so long as the price is paid with heavy interest. These beings were once seduced by power but toppled by a greed that consumes from within. But they were also beings of great intelligence. Just humble enough to change course before the fall. Wise enough to avoid the fall altogether… and fearful enough to accept that in order to never die, they could also never live anywhere but this one space. 

The Chendle listened to the tale of each one. All different in size and shape but identical in color. Elves, Men, other strange beings, some towering and branched at the top. Others tiny and flitting about on translucent wings. There was even what seemed to be a few half orcs and a goblin despite all the rest being the shape of more civilized races.  All of them were a deep blue in coloration. A blue darker than the blackest night sky. Their eyes were shining marbles of azure obsidian. Hair like delicate flowing blue cracks against the very fabric of space. Each of them different living statues cut from the same midnight stone. Each of them powerful sorcerers in a long passed life, deserving of a cruel hell for their transgressions against nature. Each of them just outside the gate of that very specific hell. Forever here. Painless. Deathless. By the saving boon of their one final spell. An eternal enchantment over this one small space. Their home. Their prison. Their penance. 

Through these hours and days and months, Lenara learned not to fear them. They were bound by the comfort of this place. They had all been wicked and in their sins she saw the fruit of vice and ill gotten gain. Having seen the fruit, she knew the seed and it was within her just as sure as she sat before them. 

But in hearing story after story, Lenara began to realize that the seed in her had not grown. Not much, anyway. Not like theirs. This was a place to avoid the wrath of a just universe. She was at peace with accepting her judgement and so she asked just one favor of these beings before she left. Lenara asked to learn the secret of their undying enchantment. They gave it freely and Lenara knew that her own charge had begun. 

It took Lenara another 2 years to journey back to Chendle Glen. She was 29 when she returned and the young girl she was had been all but forgotten over the past 15 years. No one recognized Lenara the woman. Not because she was older. Not because she had adopted the garb of many foreign lands in her travels. Lenara had changed in a much less subtle way. She was two years bluer. Not blue like a Ralterian troll. Not blue like a drowned man. More like a starling’s egg. One that blushed when she realized that she had… well, turned blue. It seemed that everyone else she had met recently just assumed that she was born blue. 

Very shortly after her homecoming, Lenara was recognized by her family and her friends and all of the dwellers of Chendle Glen. She told them of Rett’s loss and of the scores of other cultures, totally disparate in every way from their own but similarly bound by the chains of mortal suffering. 

But it was Lenara’s tale of the blue people that garnered the attention of the elder medicine women of Chendle. She told each of the creatures’ stories. She told of their shapes and sizes. And she told their secret freely just as they had told her. 

“The only magic for which there is no price is thus: Give and Trust.  Take only the life you can give back. Relinquish all you have so long as you trust that the world will give back.”

It is an endless, cyclical incantation. When understood, it can be used to form a bond that will accelerate healing, eliminate pain and ward off death itself. Give and Trust. 

Lenara’s teachings showed new horizons to the medicine women of Chendle Glen and they harnessed the cycle of give and trust supremely effectively.
Chendle’s charge is still being paid by many young men but most military leaders are careful to keep the Chendles safe. They aren’t typically efficient or fearsome fighters but a safe Chendle is crucial for morale.  The other men fear what happens when a Chendle comes to be harmed. 

For where the charge has been fulfilled, the blue women come. The young ones could be mistaken for any other girl who’s a bit less rosy in the cheeks than most… it’s the elder ones that’ll bring a chill into the heart of the most seasoned soldier. Shrouded in deep, dark blue, the matriarchs come and all the other men give them space. Space enough to stay clear of a Chendle healer’s hand. Blue black as the deep waters of the farthest sea. The mark of an elder healer. The price of the secret given freely. The give and the trust. Lenara’s proud rebuttal to Chendle’s Charge. 

Generations have passed since Lenara'a pilgrimage home. A daughter of Chendle may choose to follow her path and set out into the world practicing the magic of give and trust until they see fit to return to their homeland. Marna DuGormand has said farewell to her beloved sister Bale, her mother, her grandmother, her great grandmother Lenara, and of course Lenara’s mother and grandmother. 


This is where Marna’s story begins. She is a confident, optimistic and sometimes headstrong young woman. Marna approaches her Charge with a full understanding of give and trust but very little understanding of any other motivations held by less peaceful cultures.

some Very Important Katana and Boomerang and Kaboom headcanons:

  • In this interview, Jai talked about the backstory for Boomerang that was pitched to him - about him being ex-special forces and having been beaten down by the system. I imagine he was somewhat like Rick Flagg at some point - he probably had some high-minded ideals and goals regardless of his methods - but circumstances led him to want out and no longer be beholden to anyone while indulging his darker vices. And what better self-sustaining self-employment is there than thievery? You’re definitely your own man in that industry so long as you can manage to keep most of the profits for yourself - and as we saw in his brief origin story, he’s no stranger to screwing someone over to keep most of his ill-gotten gains for himself. Also, considering that he’s an experienced thief and escape artist, I imagine he was something of a prodigy who entered the special forces early, as he’s only in his early 30s now and has been a thief for a while.
  • After Flagg made the otherworldly stakes of their battle totally clear and everyone leaves for the bar, Katana joins them because she found Flagg’s concealment of the truth from both her and them dishonorable. They should at least know the stakes of their mission. She quietly takes in their investment in the integrity of the team and the endgame of the mission and decides that these are people she’d willingly bare her soul before (quite literally, when she later takes off her mask and speaks to her husband within full view of the rest of the group - showing them her own reason for fighting). There is some good in them - perhaps not enough for her to fully trust that they don’t deserve the edge of her blade, but enough to fight at their side with honor, should they choose to do the same. Most criminals deserve no mercy, but these might yet merit it, if they prove themselves worthy. 
  • Katana has a level of respect for Boomerang simply because, like her, he relies entirely on non-ballistic weaponry alone and goes into every fight with little other than his wits and athleticism to protect him. 
  • Both Katana (for obvious reasons) and Boomerang (due to his special forces past) deal with PTSD. Having read his file, she wonders at how he deals with it - is his hedonism in spite of it, or is it in some way largely because of it, as a distraction from his own inner turmoil? She’s found her own way to sublimate that emotional overload, perhaps more moral in its intents and goals, but equally unhealthy in many ways.
  • In an attempt to start a conversation with her, Boomerang mentions off hand that her name - Tatsu - means “dragon” in Japanese, which he finds “bloody ripper.” She asks him if he’s been practicing with that Japanese-English Dictionary she’s seen him thumbing through when he thinks she’s not looking. And he says no, a tattoo artist told him the other day and gets even more embarassed because no, absolutely not, he was not considering getting a tattoo in her honor whatever gave her that idea
  • After hearing that Boomerang is in a cell little bigger than a holding cell for mouthing off to Waller, she puts in a good word for him. He gets a bigger cell, a six-pack every week, a certain pink unicorn that he’s rather embarrassed she knows anything about, and a much more thorough Japanese-English Dictionary with rudimentary lessons contained therein along with a note in English that reads simply. “Practice. I will visit and track your progress.”
  • Belle Reve’s not a bar, but he does have beer and when she visits, drinks are on him.
FBI closes the books on D.B. Cooper
D.B. Cooper vanished over the Pacific Northwest in 1971 after hijacking a plane and parachuting into the sky with $200,000. The FBI is closing the case.
By Farida Fawzy, CNN

Diane, the FBI no longer regards me as a wanted criminal. I plan on retiring in Twin Peaks, and spending my ill-gotten gains on coffee and donuts for all my friends. 

Don Quetzalcoatl

I was assassinated once

It happened shortly after I declared liberation

The me inside myself that I never speak to

Nor acknowledge

Declared a state of emergency

I was an old ignored creative property, a silicon valley unicorn,

a more efficient way to juice your small artisinally crafted packets of juice

mailed in daily boxes with loot and grift and sometimes I was somegody

most of the time I’m not most of the time I’m a potted

planet on the Spanish Riviera

because I read about that in a Graham

Greene novel


I am a collaborator against myself

I break my knees

I take my wealth

I see the seeds

Of ill-gotten gains

And it is happiness

In any way

bialevin  asked:

Asking you things: 33, 93, 97. But I guess the real question is: what does having Edward Hopper and Care Bears on you page say about you?

Hello, dear follower. And thank you for the Asks!

33. What is your definition of cheating?

Woah, hit me with a tough one right off the bat!! If you mean in a personal relationship, rather than, say, getting to be The Bank in Monopoly and then awarding yourself “bonuses” of random amounts every time you’ve created a cunning diversion for the sole purpose of distracting all other players from you snaffling hundreds of pounds in ill-gotten gains, then I suppose it is activity outside what has been agreed with one’s partner(s).

That said, “cheating” isn’t really an issue for me, for a number of reasons, one being because I don’t need to be the only person in someone’s life (I wouldn’t really try to ask that anymore, because of the personality I have) and even if I try hard, it’s sometimes very difficult for me to only have feelings for one person (noting the fact I don’t actually expect anyone to ever be interested in me!! This is all me and my issues, is what I’m saying).

Probably I mean non-monogamy more than “cheating” here though. I will do a longer post about this under a Keep Reading sometime in case anyone ever wants to read it.

93. If you could change one thing in the world, what would you change?

Assuming we have solved world hunger, eradicated cancer and other illnesses and there is global peace (I think I’m “cheating” here), I would like people to try to speak and act with thought and care. I think a lot of hurt is caused by not thinking and not caring. And there’s a reminder to myself that I need to work on that…

97. Describe yourself in one sentence.

Erratic, loyal, mildly depressed (but working on it every day), somewhat dishevelled, lesbian.

The blog pics

I love Nighthawks because I love life at night and the early hours of the morning, and I’m also a fan of sitting in a coffee bar or a real bar (doesn’t matter which) and reading, writing, thinking, sometimes even talking to other human beings. I also love images of urban art. I didn’t grow up in a city but I deliberately moved to one and I loved cities.

I didn’t win a Care Bear on a grabby machine thing on the end of a pier recently (although I won a Stan from South Park). This lead to googling Care Bears. I then recalled that one of my first experiences at the cinema was the original Care Bears: The Movie (yes, I’m old), and this picture is from that film. The quote seems apt, for some reason…