I swear to fucking god if we see Louis out at a Starbucks or Calabasas Commons or a grocery store ever again or anywhere official without a bodyguard, I’m going to fucking lose it.
We have been saying for over a year that this isn’t safe. The stalking encouraged in this fandom has never been okay, but the degree of stalking and harassment has increased significantly over the past year, and standards for their security have grown lax at the same time. On fucking purpose.
This is not safe for anyone. This is not okay, this is not healthy, and it is not a small matter. No more of this.
She was too busy typing away on her laptop that she barely even noticed the text notification on her phone. It took a second notification to come in for her to notice.
Ah, I’m guessing you’re working OT. You’ll be in your office yes?
“Shit,” she mumbled under her breath. They were supposed to have dinner together at their favourite street stall. She checked her watch while contemplating on whether she should make a run for it. The stall was only two blocks from her office.
Another notification. This time it came from her laptop’s mail inbox.
I’ve attached the second file here. This has to be linked to the previous paragraph. In the file, there are also audio interviews with the locals. I need you to phrase it and include them in the last section.
It was her chief editor. She groans, on the brink of tears as she rubs her eyes. Guess that rules out the possibility of meeting him. Why did no one ever told her adulthood would be so bitter?
I’m sorry Yoongs…There’s a big project going on and my chief wanted me to piece it together. Get a raincheck for that dinner?
She sighs as she watches her text flying off in binary codes to his phone. Usually, she was the type to see life as half full but now, her glass was completely empty.
“Is the raincheck possible now?”
The sound of his voice startled her. “Oh, what are you doing here?” she asked, surprised at the unexpected visit.
“Would it be too cocky for me to say that I predicted how the events of tonight would play out so I bought the food beforehand?” he grinned.
The smell of freshly cooked noodles awoke her sense. She was now dizzy with hunger, not even realising that the last time she ate was almost 10 hours ago. “Cocky or not, you brought food,” she squeals in delight as he uncovers the box.
Yoongi chuckled at his girl. It was a bittersweet moment for him. Yes, he was happy to see her delighted but it only showed how hard she has been pushing herself all day to the point where she forgot to eat.
“Take the whole thing,” he smiled as he pushed the box of noodles. “Eat all you want. I bought enough.” He sits beside her, feeling content at seeing her eating. Ah, his girl is so hardworking. Sometimes even more than he is.
Today I woke up feeling like I had a hangover. I’m starting my 4 day break from the ICU, after working 6 of the last 8 days. I drug myself down the stairs and starting cleaning house as I normally do on my days off. I glanced at myself in the mirror at the bottom of my stair case. Horror. My face blatantly shows the pure exhaustion that I feel, and my hair looks a complete mess. “Thank god I’m off work today and my patients won’t have to see this worn out version of myself” is my first thought.
People who aren’t nurses always tell me, “You only work three days a week? Wow! That must be great. I wish I had your schedule!” ..Only three days a week? ONLY!? I wake up at 4:30AM, shake off my fatigue, drive an hour to work, and then begin my scheduled 12 hour shift. 12 often turns into 13 hours or even more depending on the patient load and if I were able to keep up with my charting. When I’m done and finally clock out, I drive home arriving around 8PM, where I strip out of my scrubs and collapse onto the couch where I snuggle my cats and tell my husband about my day until I pass out from exhaustion. I slip upstairs to bed, to the disbelief of my husband that I could possibly be so tired, and I set my alarm and prepare for my next shift.
ONLY 36 hours a week. But does anyone who’s not a nurse know what those 36 hours consist of? Juggling all my nursing tasks for each individual patient while also trying to communicate with the doctors, pharmacists, respiratory therapists, PT, OT, social work, our aides, the patients themselves, and their families?! Yes, that’s right, I communicate with all of these people on a daily basis. I am personal coordinator for my patients. I am their voice, their advocate. I must be aware of my patients needs at all times. Room 101 is going up stairs to cath lab at 0900. 102 wants their pain medicine at 0915. 103 needs to be turned at 0930. Got it. My mental check list is a never ending dynamic that I must prioritize and rearrange constantly.
My job is scary. Always thinking, always analyzing, ALWAYS aware of my actions. I could cause a patient to lose their life if I am not critically thinking about everything that I do and every medication that I give. Is this dosage appropriate, does this patient need this medication? It is all my responsibility to keep the patient safe.
Even when I am doing everything that I can it isn’t always enough. I’ve had family members displeased that I took a little longer to answer a call light. I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you a coke right away, I was busy titrating a lifesaving medication in the room right next to yours. I have been asked by a family member if I were qualified to even be a nurse, surely I was too young for that. I have been told that I am too weak to help lift a patient when in reality I can lift more weight that I weigh. Nursing is hard. I take all these comments and offer a kind response to remain professional even though it can make me feel really small at times. Not feeling appreciated is hard when all I am trying to do is help.
I have been there when a patient said their lasts words before being intubated and never being able to come off of the vent. I have been there as a patient has taken their last breaths on the earth. I have been there when a patient has decided that their body can no longer fight, and they would like to receive comfort care. I have provided comfort care as family members are silent, with tears streaming down their faces, as I turn the lifeless body of their once resilient family member. I have been there when a doctor has told a healthy, active patient in front of their spouse that they have stage 4 cancer, and will not survive. I have stood and held my tears to remain strong for family members who have had their hearts shattered by the news that their loved ones will not be coming home again. I have sobbed on my way home from work because my heart is shattered too. I am so sorry that you have to go through these things. I am so sorry that your loved one has cancer. I am so sorry that myself and the doctors couldn’t get your loved one to wake back up after being sedated on the ventilator. Nursing is hard. I am human. I care about my patients. How could I not? My heart breaks along with my patients and their family members. Then I go home and try to pretend that I have not been broken during my shift. I don’t want to burden my husband with my sadness, and I need to pull it together so I can go back to work in the morning and do it again.
So how do I do it? How do all nurses do it? How do we manage ONLY 36 hours a week? Because nursing is beautiful. I have been there as a scared patient on a ventilator has woken up so I held her hand and told her that everything would be okay. She could not speak as she had a lifesaving breathing tube down her throat. Somehow she managed to grasp a pen with her weak hands and wrote “I love you guys.” My heart exploded with joy. I have provided comfort to someone when they were far from comfortable. I have been there when a patient has come off of a ventilator after being on it for a week, and watched as they cried and said they were so happy to be alive. I helped bring that person relief. I have bought lip gloss for an elderly patient whose son forgot to bring in her lipstick. The smile on her done up face was priceless as she put on the lip gloss to complete her look. I have made a patient genuinely happy even though she is sick and in the critical care unit. I have been there providing comfort care to a dying loved one and family members have hugged me and thanked me for being the angel that their family member needs. Nursing is beautiful. Life is beautiful. I watch lives change, I watched lives end, and I watch lives get a second chance because of the care and medicine that I have provided.
Nursing is hard. Nursing is stressful. Nursing is exhausting. It drains me both physically and mentally. I come home tired, sweaty, and defeated. Not all days are good days. Nursing is not all sunshine and rainbows. But nursing is my life. I dedicate my life to saving the lives of others. Those break through moments when a patient miraculously recovers, when a patient holds your hand and tells you how thankful that they are for you, and the moments when myself and a patient can share in a good laugh. The feeling of pride I feel when my patient came in on a ventilator but walks out at discharge, makes it all worth it. All the wonderful, precious moments are why I love nursing. The great moments are what get myself and my coworkers through the long, difficult 12 hour shifts. Thank god for fantastic coworkers. My coworkers are like my family. I know that they understand the mental turmoil that I go through after a hard day. Only nurses understand truly what nurses go through.
So the next time that you want to tell a nurse that it must be great to work ONLY 36 hours a week, please be mindful of what those 36 hours are like. Give a nurse a hug today, and be thankful that we continue to do what we do, and don’t judge us when we drink a little extra wine. If it were easy, everyone would do it.
but still smiling ICU nurse.
Me: *at work pricing product*
OT: *watching me write numbers* Isn’t it interesting how a few scribbles suddenly have meaning based on shape? You drew two curves and suddenly you have a number with value.
Me: Dude… It’s way too early in the morning for all this philosophical shit.
Also can we just take a moment here at the fact that Tristan//Honda was the one working on/fixing up Joey’s duel disk. He may not duel but apparently at least understands the inner workings of one enough to at least attempt fixing it.
THE WAY he glances over the stage, you can tell the novelty of a higher social status has long worn off, and it’s no longer amusement, or something to rub in the faces of his classmates when he saunters into their corner shop to avoid the tidal wave of paparazzi. It’s easy to see since he no longer bothers to hide it, and his fans can see it too. They still multiply by the daily, and Johnny is still, after many years, one of the many beloved member of his boy-group, still gush at the sight of him and still scream his name. He loved his fans, but he wished things were different.
The loud music pierces his ears, he sips his water as the group onstage wrap up their cute little act and he applauds, not because he appreciates their overplayed, overused cute concept, but to appear less of an asshole. If his leader brought up his carefree attitude once more, Seo Youngho was sure he would lose it; so he reverted to leaning his chin on his fist, glancing around the sweat-stench four walls of the stadium, waiting for the rookie girl-group to evacuate the stage and for the next one to begin the overused act. He stood up, crossing through the tables, feeling as if he was suffocating, and whilst he does so a figure much smaller than his bumps into him. They stop for a second, listening to the male curse under his breath before they decide to fix themselves up.
“I apologise,” the figure he found out was female as the stage-lights glow and illuminate upon her petite figure, apologises. She bows her head, artificial strands of black and mint green fall past her thin shoulders, he identifies her as the youngest member of the rookie group. She’s accoutred in stockings and skin-tight shorts, a black belly-top and blazer decorated with small red rose stitch-work. Her face is slender and thin, it could be considered pretty, with doll-like features, and a stick-thin figure, skin pale with an unhealthy glow.
Her eyes widen upon meeting the eyes of her victim, a musical performer with much more experience than her―many years and many months. “I― I got lost after exiting the stage. This place is so big and I’m new.” She smiles, a cute and sensual charm of hers, in the opinion of her fans and members.
Youngho nods over to a table, “Isn’t that your group over there?”
He turns to leave, but she calls out and clutches his arm, making him turns around. “The thing is, my name is Bethany Kim, and I’m new to the music industry. Of course I’ve had my training, two years, you’re more experienced. Can you give me some tips for my future?”
“Sure. Don’t join the industry. You’re new, beautiful and I bet you’re really smart. Leave this hellhole, it’ll fuck you over eventually.”
He goes to leave once more, but her voice, full of question and the sultry tone is dropped, calls out to him.
“Why not? Why should I leave?”
“Do you really want to know?”
That’s how Bethany Kim finds herself entangled in his life; she leaves the award show, following him like a loyal subject, and soon both are locked in his hotel room, breathing, waiting for a sign, a noise, a promise of a less awkward atmosphere. And it’s not until he opens a bottle of bitterly scented wine that the atmosphere begins to melt over into something of learning, and she is.
“You debuted five months ago, right?” He swirls his glass around, watching the red wine inside slosh around thoughtlessly and she nods, earning a sad smile from him. “You stuck through the shitty training, forgot to call your parents on the weekends, all for this life, didn’t you, Beth? You could’ve been a lawyer. You could’ve been a doctor. And you stupidly chose the life of an idol.”
“Stop being a hypocrite. You can’t call out my actions when you too followed that life.” Beth’s innocent-like features were heavy with a scowl, and with alcohol in his system Youngho finds he could begin to appreciate her appearance. He stared at her from the other end of the hotel’s bed, lazily cocking up an eyebrow at the younger girl.
“Well then, princess. Should I tell you how insane I am? How fucked up we both are? For what we chose?”
“I’m not fucked up. Why are you acting this way?” Beth asks as Youngho drops his wine glass on the bedside cabinet, and pulls her arm towards him, flicking on the radio. He recognises the song as “Automatic” by Red Velvet, he stands in the middle of the room with his hands on her waist, eyes meeting hers as he remembers a time where he used to be shy around a girl. And now he was inviting them to his hotel room, as time had changed and so had he.
“First, let’s dance. And then I’ll tell you the life of an entertainer. The life of people like us, Beth. The sad, the stupid, the senseless.”
“Stop beating around the bush, Youngho,” Beth is at her begging point with anxiety and curiosity gnawing at her thinned stomach; her eyes meet his and with a pathetic, low sigh, his hands retreat from her body, he pushes her away and slides back to the bed.
“I’ve experienced things I pray your rookie heart will never have to see.”
“Tell me, Youngho. What are they?”
“When you start making money, you become more successful, more valuable in your companies eyes. They steal you, and you’re trapped with the real insane ones, the real monsters. I haven’t talked face-to-face with my father in so long, I haven’t tasted my mother’s cooking in forever; My high-school friends have children, and happy, faithful marriages. I don’t have that, but I have a career and money, so I guess it’s fine,” there is no seriousness in his words. He’s mocking himself. “I haven’t spoken to a female since my last make-up artist, perhaps five years ago. I’m twenty-nine, and I’m not allowed to settle down. They don’t let you experience love, Beth. I haven’t touched a girl, been close to a girl in so long. Until tonight.”
She’s silent, swaying to the sad upbeat song by herself, and the seriousness of the conversation almost makes her wish she had taken his offer, felt his hands on her waist just for tonight.
“I’ll ask you now, Beth. How’s it feel to be an idol?”
“I’ve… I’ve always wanted this, but you make it seem as if it’s hell. I just want to go home.”
“I’m telling you so you leave, find a lover and have children, visit you parents on weekends and grow old happily. The only thing that changes is our schedule - they just get busier.”
sort of au? semi-realistic? wherein idols are mere property to their company and a well-known idol teaches the ways to a rookie. idk what the heck im doing here
1. The realization of karma when he was a child, as he was dumped in that pool was a striking memory, especially when his hands hold a notebook that does not belong to him. This also led to him becoming empathic in high school.
2. He doesn’t really need to style his hair– but growing up in a salon has earned him tricks. So he can actually style other people’s hair better– from teaching Kawai how to braid her hair in the past, and giving cute hairstyles to Yuzuru and Shouko in the future.
3. He was pretty famous as a part-timer for the five years he worked for getting all the money needed to pay back his mother for the hearing aids. It did hurt a bit to see all that get burned away. Sometimes, he drops by his old jobs to greet the owner and get along with them. In this way, while he might have earned a reputation with his peers, the adults knew he was pushing for the better– but they do not interfere in his life (which is terribly sad, but important, because he needs to learn to rise again on his own feet than be told of this).
4. He gets along pretty well with children. He once had a part-time job in a children’s day care center, a year before his supposed-suicide- and actively sought to teach children to treat one another nicer and better so that no one gets hurt or bullied. The children does adore him– which made him guilty because he has done all those worng things (deliberately misunderstanding and thinking he isn’t a good example).
5. The sting of betrayal and broken friendship means that he will probably never be able to let his guard down around Shimada and Keisuke, by extension even Kawai, Ueno and Sahara. However, Shouya did keep an album of their friendship, and sometimes he glances through it to wonder.
6. He taught his family how to sign, so Shouko was shocked when he got her around to meet them officially. This was one of the few things that led Yuzuru to trusting him and stop actively pushing him away.
7. He has only ever asked about his father once. When he saw his mother’s eyes fill with so many unshed tears, he has never asked again and resolved ot work harder. When his mother paid for his sins to Nishimiya’s family, it was one of those things that he sincerely regretted so much - hurting her, especially when he was the one at fault.
8. Trigger warning: he once contemplated about cutting. However, his house only had scissors where he remembers learning from his mother how to cut people’s hair, to make them let go of the past and move forward, as a testament of his mother singlehandedly raising her family. While he would had reached probably for other materials, the sharp edges just reminds him of scissors in the hands of his mother. So he never attempted to cut, and decided instead on jumping off a high bridge– something people would have usually connected to him.
9. Sometime he wonders what it would have been to instead be friends with Mashiba and Nagatsuka instead in elementary. Sometimes, he’s happy they weren’t, in fear that he will have also hurt them. Sometimes, he wonders maybe they would be friends earlier.
10. Ishida isn’t aware that he is likeable. In the past, as a child, he recognizes that he should follow rules but chooses not to, preferring to do as he wanted. This led to a lot of his peers, even Shouko, liking him then. In the present, awkward and anxious he might have grown into, he still had a certain charisma around him. It’s just that the news of his past sins and rumors of him that made other people stay away from him. However, he was attention catching despite being a loner, as noted when people could have dismissed him but he was genuinely reocgnized as a nice guy later on when everyone else tried to know him better.
So recently through some changed (drama free I assure you all) I came into access of a goblet house all to my own (I would like to thank the kindness of @rhotano-rose and @aura-huntress for their generosity). The house is attached to an FC and will be converted into an antiques and pawnshop style shop that specializes in unique oddities and the like. Think Howls Moving Castle meets Warehouse 13 with a dash of pawn stars (No we dont have battle toads) I want some feedback on interest from folks and see who would want to engage with in business ot work for such a store. You can contact me here on twitter or via my profile on ffxiv.
Starting shadow work is going ot vary for each person. We each have our own things to work on and our own approaches to things- so there is no procedural way to start shadow work. It’s something that you have to play by ear.
Normally, I start my shadow work with a problem. Sometimes this problem is brought to my attention by others, sometimes its a problem I personally want to work on. Sometimes it’s a deity forcing me to do this, life forcing me to do this, or my own desire to do this. It all just depends.
So I will start with this problem, and i will analyze it. I will try to understand why I am doing what I"m doing, or why things are not panning out as I’d like. And then I begin to dissect that problem and see what can be done to address it, fix it, or come to terms with it. Obviously, each method will be different for each problem that I am working on (and I am often working on multiple problems at once).
I’ve written more extensively about my methods here. And GLE wrote a bit on his methods here. You can sift through my shadow work tag for examples of how others get through their shadow work.
I have literally zero time for RHing at the moment due ot work arrgh but I just want to remark on how funny I find it that people on reddit are all “he’s using full sentences and there’s only the one randomly floating comma - shit just got real!” about Thom Yorke’s latest Israel response.
Greetings I am back for another tutorial for that tf2 game!
I will be showing you all how to Style hair for Miss Pauling!
(Everyone knows the struggle of that awkward bun thing)
So first: Start with a semi-long wig
(Mine goes down to about there)
Second: Slap that thing on a wig head and take two equally thin strands from the front of the wig and pull them out for later
Third: MAKE SURE YOUR WIG IS NICE AND COMBED SO ITS EASY OT WORK WITH
Now put it in a pony tail; This is where it gets tricky.
Wrpa the hair band around the pony tail until its almost as tight as it can go, then pull the hair through once more so its nearly through all the way, but not quite, forming a messy bun looking thing.
Next: Take a tON OF BOBBY PINS, IT TOOK ME A LOT
Hook them onto the open sides of the bun you made and attach them to the rest of the wig so the bun fans out nicely
TADA!!! And this last step is if you want to hide that pesky hair tie :P
Take the two strands of hair you left out in the beginning and wrap them around the bun
Style up those bangs and presto! You are finished with the hair! :D