#venting about my break up in the notes again sorry lads

[potato-elf]

fellas I have good news - I picked up a diary and actually write in there to work through my complicated feelings instead of blasting them on main! (I say as I will vent a little bit in the tags but its a positive vent this time around)

[penaltybox14]

Decofiremen: Soon Be the Dawning Days

@darknight-brightstar @zeitheist Every single one of my attempts to write pleasant holiday-oriented things ends up ass-deep in character dissection and plot exposition.  @squad51goals @its-skadi

In this installment, we talk about seasons, changes, and things to celebrate.

December darkens the days, and sharpens the nights.  There is frost every morning, and the sun is a pale consumptive, waking feebly and slipping weakly into evening.  The potbelly stove in the dorm is always burning, always someone up in the night to tend it, every hour.  The lads spend a productive few hours one off day re-arranging their beds, recaulking the windows, and hanging curtains.  When Josiah asks what they are up to, they explain the lads at the ends of the rows have been getting cold in the night, and they are trying to fix it up so that either everyone is warm, or everyone is cold.

"You mind, Captain?" Jules Menlo asks.  He and Bertram Cochrane have taken up the lead, since Antoine and Ellis left for the City.  They are raw to it, but they are learning yet. 

"Not at all, boys, carry on."

Josiah is pleased with them.  Neat and natty rows of beds can go to hell, the lads are making a fine hearth for themselves.  They make sure to vent it properly, and Lufty nods approvingly at their work - a house inside of a house, a canvas-flanked beast breathing and snoring in the wind-snipped nights.  Josiah only scolds them once, when he catches Davey at three in the morning carrying wood in for the stove.  Sure, he is wrapped up tight as a beetle in a sack of flour, but Josiah reminds them that he's just a boy, yet, and needs his rest.

Young Cleary had stumbled a while, the days after Antoine and Ellis were graduated.  Eddy had given him a scorcher of a talk for forgetting to include Davey in the proceedings, and he deserved it.  That responsibility is still so new and giddy to him - where now, he can remember his own graduation, and think well on it, and not always be so bitter - and he had left the boy bereft.  Fool that he is.  Even Silky would've cuffed him for it. 

My true friend Silky, he writes, one glassy morning when the sun had lost the strength to lift the frost from the grass, you would not believe me or maybe you would.  Do you remember the day the bell sounded for us, at breakfast?  In the good cheer of sending my lads to the city, I left out the boy who needs us most, our young Cleary.  Your god, my friend, would smote me off the earth.  It was a terrible mistake, for I frightened him so badly.  I had to set him down later in the day and explain all the proceedings and the ceremony.  I am not yet sure he forgives me.  I am not sure I deserve it.  Here he is, a boy who has already lost one family, and I am to take another from him.  You can be sure Eddy let me have it. 

yours irresponsibly, Birchy

In those following days, after Antoine and Ellis depart on the train from Troy, his heart aches, something like a tooth you want to forget, something a body can't escape from.  The long hallway is there in his dreams, in the boy's dreams, and now he hears the piano, and the distant laughter.  He smells the books in the study.  When he wakes, he feels the far-off gaze of a man much his senior, cool-eyed but in such a way as a lake when the summer days grow taut about the city streets.  An expectant look, a waiting.  Far off down that hallway, as far from the boy now as the Bronx for him, as the dorm he once sweat out his sear in.  He would want to look away, as the village folks and the oakbellies look at his scars and his brace.

He knows that hallway, and that's just the trouble, for young Cleary has walked it alone, trailing his fingers along the green wallpaper, and Josiah, trembling for the thought of the beam waiting in the ceiling, has not followed.  Coward, he thinks.  To let the child walk his hallway and stumble, smoke-wrecked, to his wide lawn, alone.  A one-legged and half-hearted coward.  Davey looks at him askance often in those following days - doesn't come to read with him or practice his Latin, doesn't follow the lads out on their drills no matter how they coax him.  He walks down the pathway past the brambles and into the woods, his too-large coat down past his knees and his collar up so high it leaves just his dark curls tumbling out in the sharp wind, and when he comes in for dinner, he is quiet and small among the lads. 

It is one of those long, weary twilights when the winter rattles like dry bones, and his leg aches.  He is fixing the ledger, making notes, and Silky's reply is on the edge of the desk.  Davey slips in so quietly he only hears it with his sear, so startlingly that Josiah leaves a blot on the end of a row. 

"Capper?"

He puts his pen down and smiles like he imagines Silky would at an Antoine or an Ellis.  Truth to say, he has missed the boy, even the sometimes frantic, fledgling winging of his sear.  He is far too young to grieve such an emptiness as that long, black hallway and the smoke-torn sky.

"May I ask a question?"

Times, the boy's genteel raising surfaces, softly like the wave on the shore.  Times, as now, he holds his cap in his hands as if he's in a holy place, and his eyes are the shyness of moss on a shadowed ledge. 

"Course.  Always."

"Eddy said firemen don't take holidays."

"Come sit.  What're you onto?"

"It's almost Dawning Days, that's all..."

"Oh, ghosts above, Davey - " Josiah has to laugh.  " - no, that's not how Eddy meant it.  He only meant that fires and accidents and all our work, it can happen any time."

Davey sits in one of the clutter of chairs in Josiah's office, kicking his legs, the gesture of a younger boy, an apologetic sort of gesture. 

"I don't mean to laugh, young Cleary, but we do know the Dawning Days."

From the sundown on solstice to daybreak on New Year's - the time of spirits, the time of the seasons shifting, the time to do good and remember that the sun is only resting for a grand debut.  The oakbellies throw a grand to-do at New Year's, all the officers invited to come at their most festive.  He has not gone - and the oakbellies are likely to be glad of it, he figures, for he would not cut such a charming figure in his full dress and a tin of polish on his leg.  They would, as they did at his promotion, shuffle and swallow hotly above their stiff collars.  He would probably stand the whole night out of pride and spend the week after in bed.  Perhaps it would be worth it.

"Do you have a party?"

"As many as we can."

"And lights?"

"As many as the sills will hold.  The lights and the cups left out for the ghosts.  Eddy has probably got another little tree to plant - you know, that stand of maple by the stables, that's his handiwork."

Davey is looking as delighted as Josiah has ever seen him.  His eyes are younger, now.  He is more the boy that he must have been in golden days, before his long dark hallway. 

"And you already know Bertram and his fiddle, and save us all, we've heard the lads sing."

"They taught me the fireman's song."  Davey grips the chair, and then pauses, as if lost of a sudden.  "Lyddie would've liked that song, I suppose.  Mother scolded her because she called the music our teacher brought her 'musty old tunes'."

From far away, in the marrow of his bones, Josiah feels the soft carpet of the parlor under his shoes.  Dark walnut bookshelves and rich, salmon-colored wallpaper embossed with an intricate pattern, the sort of thing a child would run their fingers over.  The books are less a rainbow than a late-summer forest, greens and smatterings of red and orange.  The girl playing the piano, with the bow in her hair, likes to spin cleverly from the plodding strains of an old mass to the bright chirps of ragtime and dance.  The brother laughs. 

The oak floors in their dormitory had what seemed to be a century of wax and polish creating glistening currents in the low lamplight.  They could have greased the bedsprings with a gallon of lard per man and the damned things would've screamed like witches every time a man so much as thought of rolling over.  A cold night outside, and a warm hearth within, each coat and helmet hung on its hook, each woolen blanket tucked neatly around each mattress corner.  The brothers are singing and the brothers are laughing. 

"Antoine wrote me a letter," Davey says, quietly.  "He says he got his sear."  Davey bites his lip.  "He says everybody looked after him, and his captain Jack Prince gave him a pocketwatch.  Does it hurt so much, always?"

"Every man is different.  It's a hard hand of days.  But we look after each other." "I don't remember, exactly.  I hurt so long, I was in bed and the lady wanted to call the doctor, I think.  I hurt so long, and then - then it just felt like - "  Davey leans forward, puts his arms on the desk and his head in his arms and sighs.  Muffled, he whispers, "I felt like - "

Like wandering, Josiah thinks.  That strange stillness when the fever breaks, before you come around to your mates watching over you, before you pull yourself out of your bed weak and stunned and brand-new on foal's legs.  A fresh and open field, the shaded place where the last dollop of snow lives nearly into June. 

"I know," Josiah murmurs, and lays his hand - his scarred hand - on young Cleary's shoulder.  "I do know, son, I do."

"I wished Antoine didn't have to hurt that way.  Or Ellis.  Or Jules or Betram." "I dunno what it was like - " Josiah sighs.  " - but for me, I had my mates around, and my pal, we got it together.  I never would've got through it, without him."

"Thomas."

Josiah starts.

"Sorry, Capper.  I read it on the letter.  Eddy talked about him once, too."

"Silky."

"Capper?"

"Silky.  That's what we called Thomas."

"Why?"

"I don't remember, really."

"What's he like?"

"Oh," Josiah says.  "I'll tell you.  You'd like him a sight better than me - for one thing, he's got two entire good legs and he could take you down to the fish pond.  Second - "

Davey is kicking his legs again, scuffing the toes of his boots on the wooden floor. 

"Well, I'll tell you.  The day I met him, here at Wynantskill, he very nearly ran me down with a horse, a big old dapple grey gelding we called Chubby..."

Davey leans on his hands. 

Silky's letter, half-unfolded, is by his elbow.  I never really got the brothers' whole forgiveness bit, it says, but I do reckon it's a little bit like when you turn over the ash of a building, and you find a little green thing growing underneath.

[best-n-boy]

Scarlet Green AU

Louie in shocked of his voice switch from his original voice to kinda Isabela's Voice.

(Take Note from now on OV means Original Voice/Louie's Voice and DV means Different Voice/Isabela's Voice)

Louie (OV) : "What's going on with my-"

Louie (DV) : "voice?!"

Louie heard footsteps outside.

--------------------------------------------------

Beakley was just passing by the mansion until he heard noise in Scrooge's Office.

Beakley opened the door.. He doesn't see anyone.

She thought she heard something in the vents but she remembered that might just be Webby crawling in the vents.. Again...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Louie was hiding behind Scrooge's Table and was sweating all over his Hoodie. He decided to take it off. He wasn't just wearing a hoodie because he like thedesign it's because it's cozy, because it's always cold in the mansion probably the thermostat is closed or broken. He was also wearing "Sando".

(The one you might use fusing together with a polo.)

It was just plain white and it's also kinda sweating but it doesn't smell bad. (It will if he was a teenager like me. It stinks like sh!t)

He wrapped his hoodie around his waist. He placed the Orb in the right place before he touched it and got scarred for life. Now with all the adventures they go through everyday and die almost everyday. It feels like they don't value their safety anymore they just go through the adventure. Even though they think they knew what they were doing. But its pretty much a pattern of events. Getting the treasure means being Indiana Jones Trap or something. It always ends that way.

He made his way through the mansion meet the others downstairs. Della, Dewey and Webby are pretty much the same person. They both like the same things. And even Hotdogs. Goodness Louie hated hotdogs so much. Louie saw a video on how Hotdogs are made and made him puke everything he just ate when they he was 9 years old at that time. It was disgusting he wondered why people don't care of what they eat sometimes. They just want foods that would made them feel good through their stomach or maybe they don't know what they're actually eating are made out of.

Della: "Hey, who's that handsome?"

Louie realised that Della saw he was only wearing his sando and wrap his hoodie in his waist like a professional dancer. She complimented his clothing choice.

Della thought she embarrassed her son.

Della: "Oh.. Sorry Louie I did-dn't mean to make fun about your style-"

Louie just raised his hand saying thumbs-up.

He didn't wanna talk at all since his voice is unstable.

Webby and Dewey interrupted.

Dewey and Webby: "YEEEEEEEEAHH!!"

--------------------------------------------------

Beakley annouced.

Beakley: "Lunch is ready!"

Della: "Already?"

Beakley: "Yes, it's because Scrooge has a adventure planned today so hurry."

Beakley walk towards the kitchen.

Della: "Come on kids!"

Della led Dewey and Webby a hand leading to the dining area while Louie followed.

Louie felt his phone vibrate. It was a message from Goldie.

"This scheme really is the Perfect Scheme, Sharpie. Anyways people are dying to have an interview with Scarlet Green."

Louie replied.

"I think I'm scarred for life."

Goldie-

"What do you mean?"

Louie -

"I don't know if this is permanent but I have Isabela's Voice from a Mystical Orb."

Goldie -

"Is it a problem though?

I mean you can actually sing like her then it won't be a problem faking it."

Louie -

"You see. I don't know how to control it. It switches between my original voice to hers.. I don't really have a clue how to fix it."

Goldie -

"Why not tell Scroogie about it? "

Louie -

"You realise it will reveal Scarlet Green Scheme right?"

Goldie -

"I mean just try to talk to him about it without Scrooge knowing about the voice thing."

How would Louie tell Scrooge about it indirectly.

He need to think through about it. In a mean time Louie will enjoy a little break from all the ruckus in the house. Howfully dinner isn't as mouthful as always.

Louie sat with Huey and Dewey he was on the opposite of Scrooge's Seat, which is faraway from any possible questions about small talks. He really doesn't wanna go through conversation, he might slip secrets of Scarlet Green so he got to keep his mouth shut.

The meal was pretty much brunch. You can choose whether you like breakfast and lunch at the same time. Louie has his own delicate choice for this opposion usually got more pancakes than anyone else. But he doesn't want to eat too much pancake this day. Scrooge question.

Scrooge: "Lad, going for a change eh?"

Louie nods in agreement.

Scrooge: "You usually do a sarcastic remark whenever I talk to you.."

Louie knows he need to shut this conversation down so he must talk with Scrooge, he needs a classic Louie scheme that would totally make sense and end this conversation.

Louie sighs.

Louie (OV) :"Just la-"

Louie's voice shifted the moment he was about to say the last syllable.

Louie (DV) :"zy."

Louie covered his mouth all of the sudden and made everyone question on why did his voice change all of the sudden.

Dewey: ".. Your probably drinking too much pep."

[bonbonswirl-blog]

Perfect

ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING. This is like..uhhhh idk?... a 'batim' au idea? I guess? Im Not sure idk..its just that I got the idea from there and Instead of bendy its jokey, but not really exactly what happend there in batim. Plz ignore the bad portrayed scenes XD blondie is a lot OOC here. Enjoy if you only can thx.

It was a typical afternoon, the sunlit clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, fresh air filled the atmosphere swaying the palm trees gently by a breeze. David was at the recording room, a mellifluous melodic singing voice rose high, following the sweet, piping notes produced by the musical instruments around. After such a lilting, everyone toke a break, david sat on a chair, holding the lyrics for the new song in his hands. He saw a shadow approaching him, revealing his only cheerful boss. "Oh hey Mr. Blondie!! How are you in this lovely day!" "Hello david! Just checking on my young talented singer! How is the new song going?" "Its going great! Im just reading the lyrics again now!" "Thats good!...you know david...have you ever thought about how much the children love your jokey voice?" "Oh! Thats intresting...im sure everybody enjoy listening to it!" "Yea! they do....have you ever felt some...connections...to jokey?" "Connections? Mmmm well...I do feel that we both share a good love for the stage and thrilling the audience! along with the love to asssist other people and spread some optimism in the air!" "Thats beautifull!...Have you ever considered before...becoming this star that all those kids appresciate?" "That...looks pretty Mr. Blondie! But what do you mean?" His boss began to equivocally chuckle, it was low but icy, wasnt like his usual gleeful ones that gave an auditory hug, but david overlooked that, remaining unruffled till the answer. "David. Can you come with me for a while?" "Sure thing! But..what about the new song?" "Dont worry! It can be done in another time! now follow me!" They both left the recording room, the animator leading the ginger boy across the studio, while on their little trip to the unknown room they are walking to, david catched from away a sight of henry, tommy and norman talking together until a rueful rob drew near them, starting a conversation. David didnt mean to eavesdrop anyone, but their high voices did reach his ear. "Guys! Have any of you heared ANYthing lately about harriet? I cant find her anywhere! She didnt come to work and she is not at her home! I called her many times but she doesnt reply! Im really so scared..." rob vented, the three told him thag they didnt see her too. David felt sorry for the fellow worker, hoping that harriet is alright and will be back soon. He looked forward, though he only saw blondie back and his wheelchair, he could feel that he is trying to ignore something, he may have heard a little of the talking out there, maybe he feels sad too? But david was in his mind for a bit, wasnt aware of the time until he sensed that blondie stopped moving. This is when he noticed he is in an unrecognizable area he didnt see before, maybe this was a new place that got built recently?, " Here we are david!!" In front of both was a dark long way of stairs, it was only one storey up, just like one of those half open basemant stariecases. David knew not both will be able to clmib this, he was ready to push that wheelchair up, he looked at blondie concerned, whom just returned a grin. "Dont worry about me! I have my own ways for climbing those!" David didnt really get it, but he just let it go and left blondie to use to his own way, watching him in every step making sure he wont be close to any harm.

Dont ask how blondie climbed the stairs, he just did. that was a really narrow hall they were both in, in front of them a wooden door, blondie toke out his keys and opened it, only for both to be greeted by. "Finally!! Where Were ya!!" an angry wallaby yelled, looking as if he lost patience, it seems blondie was late to whatever meeting they should have done earlier, the room wasnt so small, almost looks like a little hallway with a wall at the end. The view was...tensed, it was a dark room with only a little bulb barley lighning it, orange colored light struggling to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays. It was almost as if candles were the ones giving the slight shine here. Wallaby, paul and murphy were there, standing near the sides of the walls, everyone in a specific place, two at the right wall and one at the left one, only a mile spearting each two. the menacing aura holding david in a tightening grip, why do blondie have such a grisly decorating tatse...He wasnt sure if entering this room is a safe idea. "Guys!! I Brought Our Last Guest!!" Blondie exclaimed in a chirpy tone, closing the door behind himm Last guest? What does he mean? "Can we PLEASE Finish This Now And Go out?" "Come on paul dont be such a killjoy! Enjoy the place!" "If you are telling us to enjoy this creepy atmosphere then I had lost all my faith in you." murphy sneered, clearly not comfortable or trusty with how this 'gathering' is going to end, nobody knows the goal behind it. "Come on David! Here! This Is Your Place!! Stay Still And Dont Move Ok?" Blondie said while putting david on a specific spot on the left wall. "Sure! Wont Move A Shoe!" David obeyed, blondie looked at him, but this time, although he had his usual smile that showed his white glowed teeth spreaded on his face, his eyes had shimmers with some inexplicable spite. "Everything is set~" He whispered this under his breath while walking to one of the corners, nobody heard that one. Three of the invited four toke a look at blondie whereas he was doing something uncanny at that distant corner. David turned at the person in front of him, which was paul. "Oh! hey Mr.Paul!" But being the tedious man he is, paul didnt respone, only focusing on the book on his hand, thats why wallaby seemed as if he was gabbling to himself. The young boy then looked to his right side and saw murphy, still keeping an eye at blondie in a suspicion, despite not understanding a thing from what he was doing, nobody can just fetch someone to a room like this without being not up to something. "So Guys! Why are we here?" "I Dunno david! Mr. Blondie just went to me and told me that I gotta get here cuz he needs me for somethin, well I dont see anything! All I do is just standing on dis here spot not movin a leg!! What about ya paul?" "I dont care I just came here so he can stop nagging me." " I came here after he told me that I can be a 'star' like jokey." "Wait you gonna be a star? Ooh! Thats why we standin on a star!" "What?!" Wallaby words strongly drived murphy attention, making him watch the ground, they all noticed it now, they are standing on 'stars' that are drawn on the floor. David felt inside him a very straied premonisition feeling that was telling him to move, he didnt understand it, why would his guts tell him to move away from a single drawing on the floor? He promised his boss he will stay still there....how could a star drawing hurt anyone? Since whe do drawing harm people? But no matter how much he tries to brush off that feeling, it feels like a stiff weigh was being held on his chest, it made him feel so sick, maybe he just needs to move because his legs hurt him? Yeh yeh thats just it. The cheeky lad toke one step only out of that star shape, he tried to persuad himself its his legs aching and not because of a sixth sense, and that was really something he should be thankful for because. "Guys! I think we gonna be a stars!" "Wallaby...I dont think this star shape is used fo-" "GOODBYE MATES!!"

And with a casted spell and a flash of an eye, everybody was drowned with an unknown colorful sticky liquid that fully covered them, gluing them to the ground. Expect David, who fell down to the ground aspect with a horrible fear that rised behind his eyes from the grisly vision that immediately happend.

Blondie Stood there, watching him in enmity.

Blondie turned around, only to be so bothered by seeing the surviver. "Oh it seems I missed a shot! Im going to fix this~" The words had deserted david, the color quickly drained from his face, a cold wave embalmed him and his mouth ran dry, sweat poured down his body, Heart began to hammer against his chest, every muscle in his body shouted at him to flee. To escpae this imminent threat. He hurried to the door, using every little cell of power left to open it, but no matter how much he quickly moves the handle in fright, the door didnt open, oh yes, blondie locked it. Seeing no hope, he knocked on it so expeditiously and hardly, trying not to make his words stumbled, begging for someone outside to hear him. "HEEEEELLLP!!! HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!! ANYBODY OUT THERE?!?!? PLEASE HELP ME!!" "Come on David, why so nervous?" Blondie snickered from behind him, his voice hinting he is oncoming, his tone ringing in a sick icy way, sending chimes ringing in david ears, but he kept screaming for a rescue, he was not frightened nor afraid, he was beyond such mere nouns, he was going crazy, his boater hat fell from his head, it only reminded of how much he wants his family NOW in this profound situation, he just wanted to go back to them again, stay with his father marley at home and go to beach together or golf or car or wherever his father wants to go, staying in his parents arms was all what he desired, he would never wish anything anymore after this. He could no longer control his hands they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm, his legs collapsed underneath him, teeth chattering in fear, He slid down the door, bringing his knees up to his chest.

"I-I-I-I-I-I D-D-DONT UNDERSTAND!!!!!!"

"You dont understand? I hated you! Im who created jokey! He was my friend since the childhood! My friend since the start!! But you! I saw every little detail I gifted him in you! You were perfect, perfect for him, more perfect than me! Now that I had a studio of my own, I wanted him to be alive! I reached my wish by the help of you all, by animating and presenting him to all the children around the world, they loved him, just like me! But lately, I didnt feel that I made this dream come true yet...how can a cartoon character offset me of a friend who always stayed by my side that I cant make real! But now I found a second chance, a second chance to revive him, to this reality. Thats it! Thats the chance! By using some souls to bring those stunning characters and that convival cartoony world I created to reality...that was always my biggest dream...and whats a better chance than to have the voice actor whom I influenced the traits for the children 'star' right at my hand~ People will love you david~"

Blondie was right, if david dyed his hair black and wore some cheeks make up, he could exactly like a real life jokey, but who would need a cheap costume when you can bring jokey himself to reality. David recalled the times when he sometimes thought uncle harry may have been a little overprotective of him. He thought his uncle needs to ease a bit, nothing so dangerous will happen for him. Now, he regret thinking this, and wants him to overprotect him forever and ever. Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over him like some hungry beast, immobilizing him and his brain, holding him a captive and took control of his entire body, Shadows and echoes play on his senses warping shapes and sounds. That outlandish substance already reached his legs, his life flashed before his eyes and he ushered his bright unearthly ones shut.

Yeb, this is the angel end.

[redrackham87]

soooo university is absolutely kicking my butt around the block and back again. 

i just needed to pop in super quick and put out a psa: 

because of this, i will not be doing the annual christmas graphics to my followers. i’m so sorry, guys - i love doing that so much, and i literally look forward to it every year - you guys put in such a fabulous variety of requests and i get to play in photoshop and go nuts and i love it. 

but considering i currently have had to pretty much cut off my entire social life, spend 6-7 days at school working (tho i only have classes on 3 days), and have three times now forgotten to eat and shower on certain days because of project overload, i cannot fit a single other thing in. :(

and if my queue runs out - which it probably definitely will because i have no time to fill it back up - just know that i’m not dead, i’m just studenting as hard as i can, and i’ll see y’all in december when the semester is over. XD

(for more specifics/me taking a moment to vent, continue below the cut)

the workload is psychotically insane. i am legit doing homework and projects every day, all day. the school preaches about self care and good sleep habits and taking time for yourself, but they’ve literally made it physically impossible to do all of those things. it’s a joke, honestly. i know these things are important and i just am doing what i can, when i can, how i can. which is largely not enough but i’m managing.

i’ve pulled more than a few all nighters (two by the SECOND WEEK), i’ve cried a dozen times at least, i’m living on caffiene and sandwiches. my fellow students have cried when we were given a two day extension on one project, are choosing which projects to or classes to fail in order to do better or finish “more important” projects. this should not be a thing.

i met some people at a wedding in the summer who told me that first year is a total miserable nightmare you have to just somehow survive, and i honestly think they were vastly under-selling it. since the first week of september, i have been so exhausted, daily, that i am physically aching. every day.

i overheard the librarians at the school having a vent session of their own, about how extreme and unfair the school was to first years - one lady actually yelled, “IT’S SATURDAY! LOOK HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE HERE ON A SATURDAY! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” and the other guy went on a long rant about how the school is doing something “fundamentally wrong” because so many people drop out during and after first year. (i wanted to go into their office and give them a hug for understanding how insane this all is. XD) the free therapists offered by the school are booking more than two weeks out after one month of classes. 

the teachers seem to largely act like they are the only ones giving you work, while also off-handledly saying “i know you’re busy”, but then acting shocked when half the class doesn’t finish a project on time, or that the ones handed in are largely subpar. one class i am super struggling with (and hate): i’m doing hours upon hours of extra work (tutorials, exercises, seeking help from the teacher, other teachers, other students, books, etc), and barely scraping by marks-wise, and the teacher still is all visibly disappointed in my work (note: so far, i’m doing well enough in the other courses, it’s just this one technical/perspective drawing class and i suck and i don’t get it and i hate it and i’m trying so. effing. hard. and i’m just a link park song - “i tried so hard and got so far and in the end it doesn’t even matter”. -_- ) 

if i hear one more person say “time management”, i will explode. i’m not sure how it’s a time management issue when they want you to make something good enough for your portfolio, yet give you a very limited time to do it, while you have 8 other hugely time-consuming things going at the same time. like, guys, i literally have classes on just 3 days a week which is not much. i have 5 courses total. i am spending 6-7 days a week at school doing projects, from like 7 or 8 am to 9 or 10 pm at night. if i’m not at school, i’m at home working on things from 7 or 8 am to 1 or 3 or 4 am. it’s not like i’m procrastinating or taking huge extended breaks or being flippant about time - i’m working as hard as i physically can and then some. it’s not time management. 

and the projects are relentless - we have so many due per week, and literally as soon as one is done, it’s immediately replaced by another, in every class. so there’s no relief, no stopping for a second because you don’t have anything due. there’s always something due, and it’s always large and time consuming as heck.

i literally cried about “having” to take 4 hours out of my day for thanksgiving dinner with my family, because that was 4 hours of lost work time. i only made it to bible study last week because i had portable homework that i could do at my friend’s table while we did it. THIS SHOULDN’T BE A THING.

my writing has come to a grinding halt - i haven’t OPENED a doc since august. i did not sign up for yuletide (I AM SAD), and i have no signed up for any new bangs - there’s a couple i had done/signed up to do art for in the summer, and i will be throwing those up on my ao3 on posting day, but they won’t come to any of my sites until sometime in december. i have no time to edit or think or literally do anything but school. 

anyways - i’m okay, i’m surviving. (i know this all sounds really bad and it is but i’m surviving.) lots of tears and stress and super long days and way too short nights and i am literally living project to project, but i’m doing it. mostly. there’s no chance i’m dropping out, and no chance i’m giving up. i have no clue how to make it december but i’m going to. i basically just need someone to periodically bring me starbucks and give me a massage and bring me food and water and also make my teachers stop. XD

SO ANYWAYS if you basically don’t hear from me at all for a few months, this is why. XD 

i’ve used up too much time - GOTTA GET BACK TO IT. BYE LADS. SEE YOU IN A FEW MONTHS WHEN I AM AN EMPTY SHELL AND BITTER, SCARRED WAR-HARDENED VETERAN OF SEMESTER 1. XD

[potato-elf]

You ever think "what I'm about to do is probably a mistake but damned if I don't make it"?