#dayplanner

[quirkplus]

Ditch the Sticky Notes Chaos and Level Up Your Planning with QuirkPlus!

App link: https://app.quirkplus.com/download Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/quirkplus Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/quirkplus Quora: https://www.quora.com/profile/Quirkplus Pinterest: https://pin.it/3tgVrcVbg Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/showcase/quirkplus X: https://x.com/quirkplus Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@quirkplus

#StickyNotesAlternative #DigitalPlannerBenefits #ProductivityHacks #DayPlanner #TimeManagement #GoalSetting #ProductivityTools #digitalplanner #quirkplus #trendingreels #viralpost #motivation #BoostProductivity

[hr-twink]

Spider in season 2:

Nevsky, Taverner, Pashkin...

and me

[fyeahstallonegunsandhouseplants]

It's funny to me when people think that older people don't know how to use the Internet

Yes, I still use a physical day planner and a physical alarm clock and a camera and I watch youtube on my TV.

But you know what it means when you were born before the World Wide Web? It means I've been here from the beginning. You know We got computers back in the 80s that were linked to a network? How long have YOU been here?

[weddingsbyneerajkamra]

"Looking for a dream wedding? Our experienced wedding planners in will create an unforgettable celebration tailored to your desires. Book now on- 9928544555!"

[tec-a0l]

car wax commercial

a mock-infomercial filmed 9/15/98, featuring eric, dylan, michelle hartsough, chris morris, eric veik, mike vendegnia, and a couple others who are unidentified.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

written in eric’s notebook is the list of items they planned to use in the “commercial” — note: for the third and fourth items, it’s unclear if he was writing “gross” or “grass” each time due to his handwriting, but i believe the last/non-crossed out one is “grass” since they used lawn clippings in the video.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

in eric’s dayplanner, he wrote on sunday 9/13/98: “get commerciel [sic] supplies rdy [sic, ‘ready’], pick date”

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: date night; you talk about dealbreakers and what you want out of life, and each other.

content warning: cursing and profanity, suggestive, innuendos

word count: 1.4K

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

003: play date

He arrives fifteen minutes early, with Indian, Chinese, Italian and Japanese takeout.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” he says, letting himself in and kicking his shoes off by the door, setting the bags on the counter. “So I got a little bit of everything.”

You stare at the food with a bewildered look in your eyes. This would last you the whole week. What the hell is this guy—made of money? Well, okay, granted his apartment and how he didn’t even ask you for the 400 bucks back suggests maybe, but christ, doesn’t he have other things he should be spending this on, like supercars or thousand dollar clothing?

Your train of thought is interrupted by him shoving you a greasy tub of butter chicken, alongside some garlic naan with a side of udon noodles. Interesting combo. You take your seat on the floor, setting the food on the shallow coffee table that’s littered with unopened mail and receipts.

“Do a lot of shopping?” He asks, mouth full of lasagna—he’s already chowing down on the food without as much as waiting for you to have taken your first bite. What a gentleman.

“No, well, not for me,” you reply, pushing around the food on your plate, “it’s for them.” You point towards your two dogs that are eyeing him keenly from behind the screen door, their eyes a flash of light in the dark. From a stranger's perspective, they must look absolutely vicious, but to you they were just Lassie and Strauber—from childhood, from the old days.

“Mm,” he hums, taking a sip of his Diet Coke. “Not much of a dog person, I’m afraid.”

You make a face.

“Date’s over, eugh,” you say, “dealbreaker.”

The both of you laugh, faces cracking up and all teeth���a flash of canines, again—something in your stomach churns.

“Seriously?” You ask, looking over at Ken who’s still hunched over, trying to stifle his laugh. “How could you say no to dogs?”

“I got chased by one as a kid, I guess it stuck.” he says, scooping up another mouthful of lasagna. He motions over to the two, “they bite?”

“Hard,” you grin, reminded of the time you asked him the same question. “When they bite, they don’t let go.”

He grimaces a bit, imagining the bloody, messy scene. You dip the naan in the curry, mopping up all its goodness. Ken devours his plate, and reaches for more—it’s a disgusting sight, like he’s been starved for days—but there’s something fulfilling about it too, like watching Strauber absolutely demolish a serving after you run an extra mile with her.

“You’re a mess,” you say, leaning forward and wiping a sauce streak away from the edge of his lip. You see the surprise on his face when your finger meets his skin, like he doesn’t expect it—didn’t know you were capable of being tender. Part of you didn’t expect it either.

Silence for a moment; the atmosphere still. The two of you realize you barely know anything about the other. You were just two strangers sharing a meal in your apartment.

“I read some of your stuff from the dayplanner,” he says, clearing his throat, hand on the back of his head. “It’s really good, I mean—you’re a writer?”

You give him an incredulous look, and laugh, shaking your head.

“No, not me, well—” you set the plate on the table and reach for your drink, some Indian rose milk he picked up that actually tasted really good, “not yet, at least. I’m hoping to make my big break soon.”

Silence, again—just for a second.

“You’ll make it,” he says, voice soft, looking over at him. His head is resting on the cushion of the couch, hair messy and cheeks slightly warm. Did he run on the way here? From restaurant to restaurant, trying to figure out what you would like before deciding: fuck it, and getting everything? You feel his fingers twitch slightly, inching towards yours. You turn away and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Don’t do that,” you struggled to pinpoint the feeling—the twisting, the churning—it made you feel sick, like you wanted to puke. The world seemed to spin. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you believe in me,” your voice falters. “It’s cruel, you know—giving false hope.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. He reaches for your hand again, this time you turn to look at him.

“I do mean it.” He says.

God.

You tear your gaze away from him—it’s too much, all of this. You can’t possibly comprehend it. His fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You reach for his hand and look up at him—his eyebrows furrowed, gray irises shimmering in the low light, mouth slightly open.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you reply.

“Am I still just a one night stand?” He asks, and your stomach sinks. You frown a little.

“What does it matter?” You ask.

“Because I want to be more than just that,” he says, quick and easy. He sucks in a breath, as if preparing himself. “I want you.”

Your shoulders fall, and you lean forward into him, his lips finding the sensitive skin on your neck; nibbling and sucking. You squirm underneath his touch.

“Please,” he sighs in between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “Please.”

His teeth sink into your flesh, followed quickly by his tongue rubbing soothing circles, then a kiss—like apologizing. He does this throughout the entirety of your neck, from underneath your jaw all the way along your collarbone. Your skin is slick with saliva and sweat, face red from the heat. Your hands find their way up his neck, when they grab a handful of his hair—you hear him moan.

God, the way he sounded.

“Please,” he says again, begging. Breathlessly. Desperately. “Please, I’ll be good.”

You whine, and push him away, trying to catch your breath. He falls back but catches himself by his arms, biceps flexed and straining underneath the black shirt he wore. It’s tight enough that you can make out the rouse of muscles underneath. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, mouth open—breathing shallow. What a sight.

God.

He’s about to lean forward to reach for you again when he knocks over the half full cup of rose milk all over you, splattering all across your legs and the floor. His face twists into a look of panic, and he frantically grabs a fistful of tissues, trying to dab away at the mess before you change your mind or yell at him.

“Stop,” you say, and he freezes in his tracks, looking up at you. You tilt your head, gauging his reaction—the way he looks up at you with wide curious eyes, arms still frozen in position, so eager to please—like a dog.

“You said you’d be good, right?” You murmur, leaning back, “then clean this up.”

He tries to wipe at the mess but you stop him again, making a sharp ‘tsk’ sound with your tongue. He stops, perplexed gaze fixed on you, trying to figure out what you mean. You smile at the sight and raise a pointed foot, his hands instinctively reaching for the flesh of your calves.

“Lick,” you command, a glint in your eye. He stays still for a moment—breath hitched in his throat—before leaning down, eyes still fixed on you, and kisses the skin of your legs. His tongue is warm, gliding over you in slow strokes, sending shivers up and down your spine. You can feel the soft, velvety texture of him as he moves upwards, savoring every inch of you. The sensation is both soothing and electrifying. A mix of gentle pressure and lingering heat.

You lean forward, and push him back again, his back against the couch. He’s surprisingly lenient, not struggling when you climb onto his lap and straddle his hips. You trail your hands on his chest and you feel his heart, thundering against his ribcage. His hands feel up the milky skin of your thighs, resting on your waist.

“Please,” he says again, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. “Please, I want you.”

You grab his hands off your thigh and pin them by his side, a gasp escaping his lips. Your other hand grabs his face roughly, forcing him to look at you before you turn his head to press a wet trail of kisses up his jaw. He shivers and moans underneath your grasp.

“Mmm,” you hum into his skin, pulling away to whisper in his ear. “I love it when good boys beg.”

prev | next

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: Lassie and Strauber watching you make out with him from out the backyard be like 👁️👄👁️ HAHAHAHAH i love men when they beg and yearn like 💥💥 need him crawling, sobbing on his knees 🫡🫡‼️‼️‼️ my favorite genre of men is when they’re a little bit pathetic HEHEHEH🤭🤭🤭🤭 BUT ALSO‼️‼️ I wanted to ask: do you guys have any specific dealbreakers when it comes to dating? Like for me I absolutely can’t stand when they’re rude to staff like waiters or salespeople 😭😭🙏 or when they’re messy eaters—what about you guys?? feel free to share them in the comments, and as always, thank you for supporting my work ‼️‼️‼️‼️ MUAH MAUHHH👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @shinebright2000

[you-have-made-a-fatal-error]

slowly turning my 2022/2023 dayplanner into a collage/art book, now including these DDI and SHA inspired pages. thanks to notprincehamlet for the idea of using supplies you already have on hand to make something based on an nd game, and to hotchkiss-and-tell whose clk collage also provided inspiration. definitely check out what they made bc they're much more polished than mine

@notprincehamlet @hotchkiss-and-tell

[exitbearpursuedbyactor]

Jesse Pinkman’s Dayplanner:

-wake up

-get the shit kicked out of me

-experience the horrors

-confront the consequences of working with Walter White

-disproportionate consequences for dealing with Walter White (get the shit kicked out of me)

-experience unspeakable trauma

-play Sonic the Hedgehog :)

[evilnicegirl]

i bought this dayplanner cuz it was on clearance under 4 dollars but it's got this picture on the cover of an angel killing ?tentacle medusa? with a bunch of swords. does that happen in the bible or somethinng

[notchainedtotrauma]

matted hair my grandmothers pulled out in their sleep trees that held their backs well mixed watercolor tea and whale intestine * white paper i waxed and blackened with every crayon in the box popsicle sticks i collected the slow way the blue of candied teeth and fraying frizzy yarn * flannel clarinet reed hypercolor spiral plugged-in phone * dayplanner covers stacked soles of platform shoes newspaper ink flatiron cord * the jeans i wore until they fell apart the floors of dorm room nights the printer acrylic of t-shirt transfers the ropes that lift the windows * glued spines of books reclaimed church fan handles blood cheese * photocopied poems cheryll’s picture frame markers staining fingers yard grass * letters of invitation well-maintained forest trails likes luggage tags * boarding passes tea stirrers honey the word yes * blanket sweatpants houseplant stems spice mix mask loops * most of the fabric is paper most of the wood is actually wood most of the paint is edible most of the string is still here

material elements of some years of the artist’s life or fabric, wood, paint, and strings (reprise) by Alexis Pauline Gumbs

[holiday2008]

Like ok fine I’ll keep my suspect list in my dayplanner now I’ve tabbed my logs in the book removing my list from my lab won’t make me forget

[darchildre]

Victor is fucking everyone in Castle Frankenstein, and still has time for mad science and various corpse part field trips. Truly, the man is a fantastic multitasker. He must have the most complicated dayplanner.

(Okay, he's probably not fucking Paul currently but I don't think he's noticed yet that Paul is trying to break up with him? So I assume Paul is still in the dayplanner.)

[autumnshowell]

Autumn's eyes catch the worn green fabric of the diary's cover, frayed at the edges of the spine with each open and close. It's been somehting of a companion forever, one of a dozen or so she's filled over the course of eighteen years, since the first time her dad let her have some empty dayplanner he'd been given and she'd taken to scribbling her name in it to practice spelling.

It's friends are there too, most of them. Leatherbound, cardboard, fabric-lined. Memories, thoughts, poems about feelings and thoughts both so deep or so dark or so private that the thought of anybody having read them makes it feel like her skin wants to curl up and tear itself free from its moorings.

The cat, for it's part, climbs the insurmountable cliffside of her arms, it's tiny vicious claws cutting through her fresh shirt and carelessly digging into her skin as it pulls itself up the heigh of her torso to clamber onto her shoulder, observing Aria as she flits about the room.

That flesh-curling feeling rolls upwards, over her whole body, and focuses on a hot flush in her face that feels, in her mind, like it's warm enough to evaporate the rain from her skin and hair. She feels it, this heavy outward push, like her skull wants to exit through her mouth.

I love being the kind of loathsome that makes people lie about even knowing me.fuck you. fuck this. who even AM I hate having to hide this side of myself from her so much. nothing’s helping, I just want to rip everything to pieces i fucking ate my fucking mom and it was a thrill i hitaria i hit her again and again and again until i couldn’t see her moving I want this to be real ’m not smart enough for this i want more of it, every day, every time, it's never the same as it was wish i could just be me and not be the way i have to be i’m so afraid of being alone again

All the confessions, all the sins. Things Aria had maybe known about before. Things Autumn had been so afraid to tell her, to voice, to own up to. With time, she'd told herself. But now she wonders if Aria's read them, all of them. She wonders if this talk is about space. If this talk is about how she loves her but she needs to go. If this is about how she should have been honest. If this is about how Aria, too, wants it to work, but knows it can't.

She wonders if she can make it outside in the storm. The room seems to be closing in on her, heavy with overbearing uncertainty. She can feel her mother's claws stretching out of the darkness on either side of her face, worm-eaten and filthy with decay, ready to drag her back into a box that isn't shaped for her. To twist and gnarl and stretch and twine her into the same kind of miserable and lonely she'd wound up.

'Oh,' Aria says, and it's like a lasso around her throat, pulling her back from some deep yawning brink.

The world snaps back into a sensible shape. The storm outside is still howling and tearing its winds at the side of the building. Aria explains, and Autumn snaps her sight to her, the cat crawling around the back of her, nosing into the wet tangle of her hair. Breath fast, breath heavy, she hurriedly grabs it up, putting it to the side of her.

Her expression's all worry, not contempt or resentment. Aria opens her mouth to speak and it's like the words are spoken through water. Beautiful. Poetry. The cushion for your knees before the sword for your neck.

She looks less wolf and less woman and more deer staring down its doom on a midnight highway as Aria talks. Her tongue lashes nervously in her mouth, a broken tooth worried at between pinches of the inside of her cheek between the craggy thing and its upper companion. The cat is back and she blinks and lets tears roll down her cheeks.

Her face is screwing up with fear, like she doesn't know how to speak, suddenly - it's mostly shame weighing her tongue down. She nods.

The cat mewls between them, confused at what the big deal is. It climbs it's way back into her lap, where her palms rest, still, upturned. it tries to find some way to curl up under one of her inert forearms. She doesn't fight it because she's too busy staring at Aria's shadow-darkened face, at the paper in her hands.

The blanket comes first, because it gets her out of the foyer and the living room and back into the bedroom where.. too much has happened. There's a shake in her hands that she hadn't realized was there - when had that started? The storm itself wasn't a worry. If she were alone, she might have made coffee and listened to the wind howl and the thunder roar until it lulled her into a sense of security.

But now, as she pulls the blankets from the bed, she realizes her hands are trembling. Is it nerves? Is it fear? Is it something else..? She wraps them up in her arms and moves back to the couch, one fluffy blanket for Autumn and the cat - that has now somehow made its way up to her shoulder, curling up and purring so intensely she can hear it from a few steps away.

It makes her soften for just a moment.

The other blanket she sets on the other end of the couch for when she sets down, a simple throw as the cold of the wet and wind isn't much of an issue for her.

Then the candles - all she can do to steady herself before an inevitably hard conversation. She peppers them around the living room, two on the coffee table, others spread around - all unscented to stave off any headaches or sensory issues for the both of them.

She gives the little kitten a soft pet with her fingertips before sitting down across from Autumn on the couch, legs pulled up underneath her as she faces her. It's only when she's settled that she realizes where Autumn's gaze is focused.

"Oh."

She's sheepish, now. Though a few weeks prior she hadn't had any care in the world about reading them. Aria sits up and reaches for Autumn's hand - hoping that the chill of her fingers doesn't make the shivering worse. "I did read them. There.. there's some beautiful poetry." A compliment first, though, she's worried that there's no staving an anger that might come next. "I was cleaning after you left. And.. at first, I didn't know what they were. But then."

She feels.. ashamed now. "I don't know. It was the most insight about you that I've gotten. Ever. I'm sorry, I know they're private. They did help me see you, but I am sorry." Her thumb rubs along Autumn's wrist, the tremble so obvious now that she's trying to touch her.

"I.. uhm." She clears her throat, and pulls away reluctantly, going to open the top journal, pulling out a loose piece of paper that she'd tucked into it. "I wrote down a list of things I wanted to talk to you about whenever you came back. Both.. in the journals, and just.. what was on my mind. If that's okay?"

Thunder rumbles again, cracks of lightning illuminating the sky and their faces. It's not an appropriate time for this, but maybe it's all the time they have. Her mind feels exhausted, and she feels like her throat has some sort of lump in it that hasn't gone away from the second Autumn had said she missed her.

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #99: UXM issue 219 and UXM Annual issue 11

There's a time jump between the last issue and this one, where Alex went to New York to check on the X-Men. Everything was fine, so he went back home, but tonight he woke up screaming from a nightmare that he had gone back and been attacked by demonic versions of the team. He tells Lorna that he needs to go check on them again, and he needs to go alone. Little does he know, he's being manipulated by Malice, and is playing right into the Marauders' hands. Speaking of which, I though she was trapped in her necklace when Ororo ripped it off? I guess that didn't work as well as she thought. Anyway, nobody's home when he gets there, so naturally he breaks in and goes through Max's dayplanner and is shocked to see he's at the Hellfire Club. He goes there next, and immediately verbally attacks Max, who tells him he'll tell the team he stopped by. He decides Max must be up to something, so he calls Moira for help, but Callisto picks up and tells him to talk to Max. He asks if she knows where to reach Scott, and she shuts him down. He knows that Scott left Maddy, apparently, but not about X-Factor or Jean. I do think that says something about Scott; he trusts the original X-Men more than he does Alex, and even Warren he holds at arm's length. Alex also calls Lorna, but there's no answer, because she's under attack by Scalphunter, Arclight, and Sabretooth. They get an early advantage, but in an open New Mexico landscape with iron in the ground, they can't pin her down, and she escapes. Back in New York, Alex hides outside the Hellfire Club until Max leaves, and he tracks him into the Morlock tunnels, where the X-Men are discussing their war with the Marauders. Anna sneaks up behind him, not recognizing him in the dark, and there's a quick fight scene until Betsy scans him and realizes who it is. It turns out his dreams weren't just Malice, but his memories coming back and haunting him; when he visited the X-Men last week, Betsy changed his memories so he wouldn't have any info the Marauders could use. She tells Ororo she can't mindwipe him again, so she suggests they kill him, which Ororo shoots down, which is an unintentionally hilarious exchange. Ororo tells Alex the full story of what's happened recently, and he says that he wants to help. She defers the question to Max, who sets aside the anger from earlier and extends his hand to Alex, who takes it. Back in New Mexico, Lorna reverse ambushes the Marauders chasing her and traps them before revealing that she's actually Malice, now with a more permanent body and ready to lead the Marauders.

This annual opens with almost everyone in a much better mood than last issue, where they were all talking about faking their own deaths. Betsy's brother, Brian, and his girlfriend Meggan are visiting the mansion. Unfortunately, they arrive on the anniversary of the day Mariko stood Logan up, and he's getting as drunk as he can to try to forget it. But then a big alien demon guy named Horde shows up with a bunch of minions and a whole bunch of superpowers. He kidnaps everyone and teleports them to a mysterious citadel, where he tells them to break in and steal a magic crystal or he'll destroy the world. After a failed attack on him, they decide to play along for now. Before they go in, Logan and Ororo kiss, which normally would be a nice moment, but since he's currently drunk trying to forget his ex-fiance this seems a little unhealthy. Into the citadel they go. The first thing they see is two big statues of a Skrull and a Kree, and the next thing they see is a weird wall that Anna suddenly runs towards. She stares at in in a trance, and Betsy scans her and learns that her mind has been pulled inside a magic room where she's living out her heart's desire. It's a normal life, at a dance hanging out with a big family and lots of friends, and after a moment her body disappears. The X-Men press on, hoping to find a way to save her and wary of this place's strange psychic defenses. Logan heads off on his own to scout ahead. As they walk, Longshot sees his hand begin to fade away, and begins to wonder if his heart's desire is to disappear. It's the first interesting thing Claremont has done with Longshot, and a new direction for the character after his mini. His arc in that book was about self discovery, and eventually he learned who he was and found his purpose. But he completely failed in that purpose; his friends were all captured and Mojo banished him back to Earth. Now, with no way back to the old life that he had only recently found, he's latched onto the X-Men, but now he worries that deep down he's just going through the motions and doesn't have any real passion left. The heart's desire thing is playing out differently for Alex; all he really wants is to be seen as important beyond comparisons to Scott, and in his mind he unleashes all his power and collapses into himself to become a star, brighter and more powerful than anything Scott's ever done. In the real world, his body becomes a statue, just as Longshot fades away and, according to Betsy's scans, becomes one with the citadel. Because of the purity of soul his power gives him, he didn't have the same kind of selfish desire as the others, so rather than zap his mind into another dimension, the citadel just absorbed him. Ali, who has feelings for Longshot, runs off crying and has a series of visions. The first is the life her father wanted for her; becoming a Supreme Court Justice who put away Wilson Fisk. The second is the life she pursued, a world famous pop star. The third is a poor homeless woman, a version of her who didn't want to deal with the failure of either path so she never attempted either dream and still lost. Ali wonders which of these is her true desire as she vanishes from the real world. Brian and Meggan are the next to go, seeing a vision of themselves living a happy, normal life with a new baby. Betsy then reveals to Ororo that her desire has already come true- her skin falls off to reveal a robotic warrior ready to defend her friends and family. She tells Ororo that Horde is coming, and she'll buy her and Logan time by holding him off until they can figure out what to do with the crystal. Logan is facing his own temptation- Mariko appears before him and proposes again, and then asks him to join her while she goes and fights a horde of evil ninjas. It's finally a way to reconcile the two sides of Logan's heart, but he's able to resist the urge and shatter the illusion.

I have to start a new paragraph here, because apparently there's a paragraph limit on Tumblr now? That's dumb. I've definitely written longer paragraphs than this before. Now my formattings gonna be different and that's very upsetting. Anyway, this continues from the above, it's all the same annual. Ororo is having a similar vision, or a life with Yukio (in a totally platonic gal pal way of course) but is also able to resist because this was the greatest desire of the Ororo she was when she met Yukio, and even if she still wishes to return to that time, she has changed. It's an interesting twist, and more creative than another simple "Ororo has an iron will" story (not that there's anything wrong with those). She pulls out of the fantasy and finds herself facing the crystal with Logan at her side, but Horde has arrived. To protect her, Logan pushes Ororo back into the wall she popped out of, and this time the fantasy overtakes her. Logan is attacked by Horde, but a drop of his blood lands on the crystal, and combined with his healing factor the crystal rebuilds his body from that one drop as an all powerful cosmic being who instantly defeats Horde. He has a minor Dark Phoenix moment before destroying the crystal to remove the temptation, and the X-Men all wake up back at the mansion. In the final panel, the narrator reveals that the Kree and Skrull statues, along with a bunch of others, were of people who had given into the temptation of the crystal's power, and in return, their species was frozen in time, unable to evolve. But because of Logan, humans and mutants won't suffer that fate. That moral really doesn't make any sense, but it does work in the context of Logan, who's perpetually struggling to evolve internally. This annual was definitely a return to form. It was a good example of how Ororo's greatest strength is her greatest weakness; there are so many different sides to her, but when she forgets that and gives in to one part of herself- like the part that was happy with Yukio- it consumes her and denies her from living her most truthful and fulfilling life. Betsy's dream was also an interesting insight, since she's been grappling with whether she's a real X-Man and she now knows her heart's desire is to be a hero. The penciller for this annual was Alan Davis, who'll be Claremont's collaborator on Excalibur soon. Despite that, Brian and Meggan barely did anything in this story, which focused on all the characters who won't be joining that team. But it does feel like a preparation for that run based on its plot, which about a bad guy with a vague plan and a quest that puts them through vaguely magical personal trials while being a really fun and interesting adventure. That's most of what Excalibur is, and I'm glad these guys got to have one of those adventures before the main book gets even darker and edgier.

[superstarfighter]

April 6, 2022 :: About to begin the day and not waste half of it due to work in the afternoon. I'll be reading ahead since I noticed that for only one seminar next semester we'll be tested on reading the week's chapters, with each being 20-50 pages long. I am already a bit panicky about the coming semester and wonder how well I'll manage full time (and then some) uni + 15h of work. (:

[msnita12]

Daisies for April #daisies #april #april2022 #flowersofthemonth #bulletjournal #dayplanner #msnitamcgray https://www.instagram.com/p/CdEUT1zuNV8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=