why was this book in goodwill

before you know it you’re back home listening to the rain drop outside from amidst sheets as old as you are. you’re living out of a suitcase in the room you carved yourself into, every picture pasted to its walls a piece of yourself you left behind. a fiasco of yellowed paper and goodwill clothes and the teddy bears with the lipstick stains.
nearly 20 years of accumulation that should be familiar, but that you find yourself rediscovering weekends at a time. you reach for summer-edged memories, brushing past dust and nostalgia. photo booth pictures smile from between movie ticket stubs. the stuffed leopard who lost its voice slumps where you left him weeks ago. shelves full of aged books wonder when you’ll need their stories again.
laying there, you want to ask when home became temporary and why no one told you the truth about nostalgia. that it’s a mixed drink of one part fondness, two parts sadness that you’ll taste wherever you go forever. there’s no answer but the clock ticking and the sound of the music you listened to in middle school.
—  type-ohs

And now, something truly confusing. Today’s quest does not take place at my usual Goodwill, or any Goodwill for that matter. There is a place in the city that I discovered via an invite on Facebook (it feels as shadey as it sounds), it takes surplus items from… somewhere and sells them at a set price each day (one day everything can be $5, the next $0.25, and you can find basically anything there.) I have found what can only be described as… Underwhelming

I didn’t even know that they made Undertale books. Plus, the author’s last name is the name of one of the characters. Well, let’s check the back and see what it’s about.

Well that’s… 26 words and a number. There’s so much empty space you can almost see me in the reflection. Guess we’ll see what’s inside.

Welp. The paragraphs aren’t indented, the pages aren’t numbered, the margins are weird, there’s creepy mentions of nudity and child abuse, and what curse word is an F, a space, and three-four more letters? Maybe this is why I didn’t know they made Undertale books. 

Oh wait, I guess they don’t. Apparently BatmanRules256 is named Tony. Needless to say, I kept my quarter in my pocket on this one.

The Care and Keeping of Your Alien Baby

by: mldrgrl
Rated: PG
Summary: portrait of an alien baby baby mama and alien baby baby daddy

With Scully on maternity leave and Mulder with all the time in the world, the only thing he could think to do was show up at her apartment early in the mornings and leave late into the night.  She didn’t seem to mind…much.  He made excuses for it, called it boredom, but the truth was, since her brief little hospital stint, he was terrified of not being there if something went wrong.

Scully was hellbent on what the pregnancy books he’d been reading called “nesting.”  She cleaned cupboards, or tried to, but her belly always seemed to be in the way and since Mulder kept insisting he was there to help, not to be a nuisance to her, she put him to work.  So, he cleaned cupboards and emptied the little spare room under her scrutiny and supervision, boxing up books and knick knacks to take to goodwill later in the week.  He painted the walls a soft eggshell, questioning why it wasn’t pink or blue or seafoam green or sunshine yellow, but she shook her head and insisted on eggshell.

The crib she ordered came in a box, the instructions with it came in French.  Mulder sat on the floor in the freshly painted, sparsely furnished spare room and metaphorically scratched his head as he studied the drawings of little wooden pieces that didn’t seem to fit where they were supposed to.  

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baryonvoid  asked:

In defense of Mai, she is poorly written. The most interesting things about her are the consistency of her apathy and the fact that somehow her childish crush on Zuko morphed into a sense of entitlement. Even her backstory is contradictory. Were her parents strict and demanding or weak and confused? Therefore anyone who attempts to interpret the series seriously must do something to retcon Mai, if only to tone down her "sullen, bored teenager" act (eg, TomTom).

Now for an actual question: What do you think would be a satisfying reveal for Ursa, had there been a Book 4 and no comics? I get stuck trying to imagine something that maintains her ambiguous morality while also making sense in regards to the plot. I don’t like her going off to become a secret hero, but I also don’t like her willfully disregarding the fate of her children. Something has to match the banishment, which seemed to have been unenforceable. Why did she choose to disappear completely?

Poor Mαi! She didn’t get the character development she needed for a proper heel-face turn. And then the comics went and obliterated any audience goodwill she had gained from sacrificing herself for Zuko, when she went ahead and sacrificed Zuko and his family’s safety for her father’s freedom.

I think it would have been satisfying for Ursa to have been imprisoned in the Fog of Lost Souls from Legend of Korra. The Fog of Lost Souls, a spirit that makes people forget who they are and doubt their purpose in life, is something that performs the same function as the Mother of Faces, except the forgetting is involuntary. Maybe Ursa, like Iroh when Lu Ten died, wanted to journey into the Spirit World to see if she could contact her children, but got trapped by her own misgivings, doubts, and fears. We could have more character development for her that way, seeing from her point of view as she battles with herself, finally breaking through a little bit and calling for help—but not for herself. For Azula. Cue Zuko and Katara tracking Ursa down, only for Azula to have escaped and gotten there first. They wouldn’t have their bending, so journeying into the Spirit World would be terrifying! And we could also have a little more backstory about Zuko’s alter ego, as well as the beginning of Azula healing her broken psyche.

anonymous asked:

How does one learn theory (besides a school class) do you know any books/ websites to recommend? You told a previous anon to learn abt chords, where do u go to learn that?

musictheory.net is your best friend. they have everything from basic note identification and clef reading to chord construction and ear training. 

there’s also this awesome music theory pdf by toby rush that will teach you the basics of music theory and serves as a great introduction to working with counterpoint and figured bass.

and most people like to hate on wikipedia, but if you ever have a specific music theory question, like about pentatonic scales or why people hate fifths, wikipedia has your back.

as far as books go, most of the ones I have are from the 1900s, like harmony by walter piston and this weird 1930s music magazine, and part of that is just because that’s what was available, and because the writing style is very formal and discreetly sassy and I love it. most of the books I have found at old local book stores in their classical music section, or at goodwill, and they each provide different insights so I think it’s important to read as much as you can. because one book might be about counterpoint, another might be about jazz chords, one might talk about the twelve-tone system, another could have been written before the twelve-tone system even existed, and so on.


So I was house cleaning and I discovered this ancient relic from a forgotten age.
It appears to be a book about the history of mechanical automatons through the ages, in good condition.
It has been signed on the inside cover by the original Steam Powered Giraffe band. (post The Jon, anyway.)
The Spine seems to have drawn a big ol’ angry kitty face, but I can’t remember why. Steve Negrete drew a missile about to blow up Michael Reed’s house, and Paige drew a happy paigeface.
I was gonna Goodwill this, but I think I’d rather re-home it.
Does anyone want this/would you pay me money for this?

Total Huffpuffle

Excuse me if this has already been discussed ad nauseam. I missed it. Link?

Anyway. It’s been mentioned that Sonny is 28 or 29. That means he was born about 1986 or 1987.

The first Harry Potter book came out in 1997. When Sonny was about 10. He was the target audience.

He grew up reading Harry Potter. With his sisters. Aww. It’s one of the reasons why he loves reading.

The guy in line at goodwill with a book just yelled at customers for bothering the cashier about the store being understaffed and it was so beautiful he was like leave her alone she has to work??? And he’s right. Why would you ever yell at or ask a cashier why there aren’t other cashiers like… be nice to them

anonymous asked:

!!!! What is on ur mind at this very moment!!! Write it al downnn

Wow !!!! A lot of things!!! Maybe too much!! Everything seems rly overwhelming & strange feeling lately. It’s like I’m drifting around in a weird afterlife. I am excited to have breakfast today!!! Also I might play some basketball. I love to play bball it is rly fun. I am hyped to finish my book, it’s nearly done!! I am scared all the time, I feel like I am not doing enough & I am letting ppl down. The other night there were no cars & I was laying down in the middle of the street & it felt great. Cookie crisp is a high quality cereal. There are a lot of cool paintings at goodwill I wonder why ppl get rid of them. I wish it was halloween time permanently. Everything is darker & more orange. I have been writing more things on piano lately & I am inspired to make films. Driving at night is always nostalgic I like to be lost but not too lost bc then u die. I am always cold when I get nervous but maybe it’s just a coincidence. There are a lot of good ppl in the world & it’s important to remember that. There’s no point in hating everything constantly even if it’s easy. I got a Tony Hawk game yesterday but I don’t have a PS2 rn so I can’t play it…someday tho. I am sorry for talking abt myself so much. Thank u to whoever read this

FIC: Show me what I want

Summary: Loki’s plans don’t always work in their intended manner. Sometimes, the end result is better than expected. 

A/N: This fic was written for @nyarnamaitar and @angeline-farewell. They both asked for ‘reading the book together’ from this list. I’m sorry for the wait, but this fic grew way beyond its intended proportions. Also, I’d like to thank the anon who suggested Kama Sutra illusion as the plot for this fic. I didn’t exactly follow your prompt, but without you this fic wouldn’t exist. So thank you.

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Could You Be Happy Here With Me?

Moonlight streamed through the curtains, the sheer fabric doing little to block the light. The stars glow hid behind the full moon but the small specks were still there, still watching over him. He could feel the heat as it pumped from vents under the bed. He could feel her skin, the soft curves of flesh so soft. He could feel the beat of her heart, so strong and steady. The scent of her shampoo like freshly cut flowers and ocean waves. Gentle puffs of her breath were ghosting the arm he’d sprawled out underneath her head, her hand tangled with his calloused fingers. She’d shifted so her body had pressed to every inch of his revealed skin and he had never felt so in love as he did in that small studio apartment.

Takeout boxes stacked up on the counter because neither of the could cook more than cheap frozen pizzas. Open books with highlighted, noted lines that intersected like the masterpieces hanging in the small art studio their friend had bought cheap laid on the rickety coffee table. Her shoes and clothes were so meticulously hung up, prepared for the next day while his were strewn at random, unwashed and wrinkled.

They had said the two of them could not, would not, work. She was high class to his empty bank account, she was Gucci and he was Goodwill. She had dreams, aspirations that didn’t need a struggling musician to bring her down and he questioned every day why she didn’t leave. Find a man wearing suits that cost more than all of his existence, marry him and have children that had pretty smiles and brains that could understand what she would say when she talked about her passion for learning.

She could be happy, doing what she wanted whether it were staying at home or working the job of her dreams. She would have options that she could never have with him, the boy whose music was the only skill he had. She would not be studying at night and working to jobs to afford food and a place to live while he played on streets for people who would never respect the depths of depravity his music came from. She never faulted him for it, encouraging him if anything with her soft whispers of The music you make is as important as the books I read, music is a language that the entire world can understand. It saves people mentally and that is something medication can’t always do. She never complained besides occasionally the rare I’m tired that had him on his knees, rubbing along the muscles of her feet and calves that she always seemed so grateful for.

Her I love you’s always were real whether whispered into the dark or giggled through laughter he’d caused. They greeted him in the morning and never disappeared through the day. She supported him in every and any way that she could, promising to love him through the unpaid bills and sleep deprivation as long as he loved her through it too.

He tried.

He tried being as supportive as she was, the depths of her niceties that were given freely and never for reward were unmatched but he did try.

Picking her flowers just so she would smile, laughing while she explained that it was illegal to take these from the park garden but she almost gave him a smile and he didn’t care. He’d stay up into hours that no sane human being should have to be awake at to throw out quiz questions, kissing her for every right and sometimes the wrong, ready to send off congratulation and I never doubted you texts when she sent pictures of passing grades.

He supported her when she had breakdowns, thinking that maybe she couldn’t do it, any of it. Not this time, not ever but gentle hands that were as strong as his love, held her. Whispered words of encouragement, promising her that she could do anything she wanted to because she was her. She would always apologize for it, the way she broke down but he promised her he was as much a safe place for her as she was for him.

He could never be open like her, as free with his affection because he didn’t know how to do that when he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. When he was waiting for her to decide she’d made a mistake choosing him, waiting for the decision she would inevitably make of herself or him and who could fault her for choosing someone as wonderful as herself over him?

Those were typical worries of his, things he questioned, waited for but tonight was different. The call had been more than interest, it had been a promise from a major record label that received the demo she paid for working in the small café for a year, scraping up tips with smiles and niceties even though she wanted to go home and sleep but bringing home the earnings and placing them in a jar she had labeled Calum’s Demo with hearts and smiley faces.

The shoe he had been so afraid would drop, the cutting of such fragile strands that held them together, was something he couldn’t fear. The fourth song of five had the studio in tears, had them scrambling to draw up the documents for the talented young boy who felt more like a man now that a salary was being offered all because of the song he had written for the woman he pulled closer as she slept, smiling at her soft snort before she rolled to press her face in his shirtless chest. Her hair tickled his nose, her feet so cold that he could feel shivers racing up his spine but he couldn’t have moved her if he tried. She was holding onto him like she never wanted to let go and he knew she wouldn’t.

He hadn’t told her yet, the adrenaline racing through him had halted when he saw her wrapped up in blankets, cocooned and safe from the world so he shed his clothes, showering so his cold body would not disturb warm sleep before he crawled in beside her and simply watched her rest. He couldn’t wait to tell her she could do that more often because it was his turn to take care of her.

She shifted in her sleep, the sound of a horn from the streets below knocking her from peaceful sleep and she snuffed against skin that was glistening with a slight sheen of sweat and the moonlight that caught its glisten.

She simply caught his eye, the spark of adrenaline obvious and he could feel as her heart skipped a beat where she lay pressed against his ribcage. He didn’t need to tell her that he had gotten the call as she scrambled to sit up in the covers, the silent communication something all of their friends had been jealous of. She pressed lips to his with a purpose, his warm laughter filling her whole body with contentment as she could feel the pieces of their puzzled life falling into place.

He pulled her closer, remembering a night like this not too long ago when he had penned that fourth track for his demo that got him his record deal, her lips pressed to his with no intent other than closeness, feeling connected as if they were one person sharing the same heart. The way she curled up, the feel of her body so familiar, similar to now when she had held onto him with unspoken promises that all but forced him to retrieve the black notebook from under the mattress.

Writing the words in ink as permanent as her love mingling with his in the air, he penned the title to the song that would change everything, the only question he felt he could never ask her.

Could you be happy here with me?

Blurb List here. :)

-TheHuntersHuntress xx

Request here. Masterlist.