Green m&m costume diy

Ive been playing archero for a good year now, im not F2P, ive spent a couple 10’s on the game.
I believe the RNG in this game has to be one of the worst in any game ive ever played.
I have been farming H10 and flying bullets (when its open) pretty much every single day when i have the time. I have only ever seen one common DB in any drop in this game, trash.
I have an epic DBR which was a lucky pull from a spin wheel, but never have i ever even had a common, green, or blue DB. All i ever get is some shitty common tornado or scythe, just feels like im wasting my time on this game.
The same problem with the AS, although its fairly new compared to DB, i have not even accquired a single AS of any rarity.
Even chests, i only ever pull rings, lockets and that shit golden chestplate.
I look around this sub and see guys stacked out with level 100+ mythic DBR and stuff, it just makes me want to put a toothpick under my toe and kick a wall as hard as i can. I’m ready to give up with the game at this point.

Hello guys, I am 5'10/178cm (w/o ski boots on), 150lb, 30 y/o, just started skiing last December and totally fell in love with it, looking to buy a pair of skis.
- I am unsure about my level. I have been transitioning from pizza skiing to parallel skiing. I am able to keep my skis parallel better on green slopes and easy red slopes, sometimes with wedge still; More pizza and less parallel on harder and steeper red slopes. Will work on turning smoother, getting more comfortable on steeper slopes and doing counter rotation in the upcoming ski season advised by my ski instructor.
- More interested in carving skis (less heavy and easier to control I believe?) than powder and park skis as I am still trying to polish my techniques.
- I currently own a pair of Dalbello AX 100 GW advised by a boot-fitter.
- I will be mainly skiing on-piste at Niseko, Japan for geographical reasons.
These are the options I’m currently looking at: Fischer RC4 The Curv 178cm, Volkl Deacon 84 Skis 177cm, K2 Disruption 82 Ti 177cm, K2 Disruption 74 MTi 175cm, will these models and sizes fit me? Any other recommendations are greatly appreciated.
Thank you very much in advance.

Najia made a snap decision. She'd already been made by Mellerd, there was no need to pretend she was a low-key criminal looking for a little action.
She leaned forward, resting her hands on Kriss Mellerd's desk, meeting her gaze. "You know who I am. What I don't know, is who you know. I'm getting fucking stonewalled by Ministry-Company interplay," she said. "I can't develop real contacts. I can't develop real contracts. My ships are moving three quarters of the goods in Grand Exchange and half through Eighteen B. I'm tired of being treated like some random schmuck who just floated in with a Frog to haul credit-ante freight. You have connections. I want you to make those connections for me."
Kris sat back, blinking, then laughing, smirking at her. "You're looking for long-term income, mmmh, rather than a quick buck? Well, I'm not in a position to offer you any... Negotiated contracts myself, however, however... Let me talk to a... Third party who might be interested in you. I'll try to arrange something; but don't get your hopes up."
Najia would actually be in even more trouble if Kriss did arrange something, she knew, but she was putting Kriss on the spot. Mellerd stood up, and turned around, plucking a datapad from her pocket and holding it up to her ear. Perfectly, she was looking down and away, and Najia took one soft step to her side, plugging a tiny hack-box into the console at the side of the station manager's office.
"Yes, hi, I need to call in a favor," Kriss said, distractedly. I have a shady character with deep pockets and large resources looking for... You know, alternative contracts. Eager to get into the deep end of the pool, maybe, but not much of a profile yet. New money... Mmhmm, sure, I'll wait." Najia smirked, glad to see that Kriss was getting the runaround. The woman, despite being attractive and stylish and well-spoken, somehow annoyed her. She couldn't put her finger on why, exactly. Kriss' time on hold seemed to drag on, and Najia started to worry it might drag on too long. Then, she spoke up. "All done? Wonderful. Mmmhmm. I'll call you later about that other case." The station manager sat back down, turning around with the comm still to her ear. "Brilliant. Bye."
She put the comm down, but Najia saw the screen of it. It was on its basic lock screen, and Najia barely avoided baring her teeth; Mellerd had pretended to make a call. If the approach had been sincere, she'd have been furious, but even though this fit Najia's plans perfectly, it still pissed her off that Kriss had quite literally simply pretended to place a call rather than to just be straight and say she had nothing for her. "I'm sorry, there's no interest in the market," Mellerd told her, and Najia kept a straight face, as she continued, "the groups work on a trust basis, and prefer to work with people they have a history with, or select for themselves. The fact that you're actively looking to develop contacts raises some red flags. Let's get you a proper reward for a job well done, and have you on your way," she added, smiling sweetly. "I expect you'll find your way out."
Najia snorted, not having to hide the disgust in her expression. Uninterested in whatever petty payment Mellerd planned to remit for abducting her passenger, she turned on her heel and strode out, having no difficulty projecting the air of someone fuming. After all, she was fuming, just not for that reason. She strode quickly to the lift, taking it back to the landing pad, joining Marta and company, and looking around. There were supposed to be fireworks, weren't there? This was when the Arcadian Endeavour and Ace were supposed to show up and start raising a row so she could get into the hangar with the Raven, right?
Silence. A total lack of blaring alarms (which Marta's hacking would have accounted for), and a total lack of incoming weapons fire. Awkwardly, Najia hissed, shaking her head; she nodded to the ship, and the sextuple strode quickly into the loading bay, taking the lift up. Marta ran a scan for bugs as they did, and once inside the bridge, she laughed. "Man, their security was a fucking joke. But, uh... What's going on? Where's the pirates?" "I don't know." Najia strode rapidly to an aux console, and checked the 'Wildcard' incoming data. Then she swore. "Either I misunderstood the plan, Maestro poorly communicated the plan, or the plan has changed; either way, I'm wanted back on the Endeavour."
She looked to Marta, who looked at her, spooked. "Najia, I just hacked the shit out of this place. Right?" She looked to the woman on the gunnery console (who also had the sensors), who looked back to her, nodding. "I'm getting a zero read on their turrets," the weapons officer confirmed. "This place is vulnerable as it's ever gonna be." Najia let out a guttural growl. "We're humped. They're not gonna be vulnerable to a hack like this again. Get us the fuck out of here," she said to the pilot, adding "please and with all swiftness." "Yes ma'am," the pilot answered, lifting the ship.
Najia huffed, and slapped both of her hands over her face. "And it gets better. She fucking made me the moment I walked in." "Made you made you? As in, made you as an Empyrean Cur?" "No, she greeted me by name. I had to think real fast to come up with why Najia Takio was slumming it doing credit-ante abductions for her corrupt ass. I made it out that I wasn't satisfied just taking barrels of Teladi money and was looking to develop real contracts through her contacts. But it gets better still. She insinuated she still has ears in the pirate crew she used to fly with, which as we know is -" "The Empyrean Curs. Well, fuckadoodle-doo," Marta said. "What the hell are we gonna do?"
"I don't know," Najia said, huffing and sighing. The Falx groaned as the pilot adjusted the course, and blasted into Travel speed with almost no noticeable lag. "If the Maestro wasn't so fixated, wasn't so bull-headed about 'live free or die,' I'd just buy the whole fucking lot out and pay them to go very, very far away, and get the hell out of here."
Marta snorts. "Maybe you still can. I mean, what's he gonna do if you out yourself on his bridge?" "Take me hostage?" "That'll go over well with Ace," Marta said, sarcastically. "And then I'll be calling in a fleet to bracket his tiny little pissant scrap-Destroyer with enough firepower to vaporize it in one salvo. Explain to him that the only way the Curs leave alive is when you and Ace are standing safe and sound on my command deck."
Najia blinked, and snorted. "Me and Ace?" She smirked at Marta. "She's growing on you." "Maybe. Fungally. But you'd be despondent, too. So yeah. Hell, he wants a payday out of it, we can do that. But yeah, maybe you should just out yourself to him - the other side knows you now - and offer him a huge sack of cash to just get the hell out of Dodge."
The Paramerion was already sitting on the landing pad on the Arcadian Endeavour when she arrived. Najia was moments from teleporting to it as a convenient reciever and simply walking off, when she realized that that tidbit probably would be noticed, so she had it shuffle with the Shiv. She hustled to the command deck, where Maestro was pacing.
The Maestro looked at her, eagerly. "You finished flipping switch?" "Yes, that's done," Najia answered, sucking in a breath to start asking questions of her own, starting with where the hell were you? "Good job," Maestro preempted her. "What petty crime Mellerd make you do?"
Najia huffed, and sighed. "I wouldn't say an abduction is petty crime." "Who you abduct," Maestro asked, curiously. "Some poor Split fellow in Avarice," Najia said, racking her brain for his name. He had told her, once. "Lu... Lu t'Cca," she said, wincing; "though I have probably mangled that. She took in a breath to ask her own questions, but Maestro suddenly showed more emotion than she had ever seen from him before; fury.
"You handed over my brother?!" Najia's eyes went wide, she took a half step back. The weight of the machine pistol she was still wearing on her hip was suddenly very familiar to her, and she swallowed down the urge to go for it. "B-Brother?! That was your brother?" She gawped. "Mellerd has my brother?!" Maestro raged; behind him, Ace slipped into the bridge, apparently having decided to don trousers. Najia wondered why that was what she had noticed. Ace apparently heard the outburst, and looked to her, startled, pushing her goggles up, then slipping around the central pillar.
"Curs! Report," Maestro thundered, though thankfully he didn't seem about to attack her. Axiom popped up in hologram on the bridge. "What happened?" "Mellerd! Vile traitor!" Maestro answered him. "One casualty not enough! He was out of game! Off limits!"
Ace scratched at her cap-covered crest. "Lu t'Cca?" "Imprisoned," Maestro vehemently responded. "We engage! Attack station!"
"No, wait - wait!" Ace hissed, holding her hand up. "We have a plan to get in. We will get him out." "Yeah," Axiom said firmly, in holo. "We'll get him out." His hologram was running, presumably he was coming to the bridge himself. "Let us finish up preparations, before we engage," Ace said. "I've got a better combat ship," she said. "I'm working on an improvement to the hacking attack," Axiom said.
"We're fucked," Najia said, holding her hands up. Ace, Maestro, and - walking onto the bridge - Axiom - looked to her. "Either we misunderstood the plan, or the plan changed on us. We already hacked the station," she said. "I sent one of my crew in to fiddle with a security junction while I walked into Mellerd's office. I thought the Arcadian Endeavour was going to be hitting the place the moment I walked out of her office; that I'd take the lift straight to the security hangar and lift struts then."
Ace let out a hiss and face-palmed. Maestro gawked at her for a moment. "Split did not communicate plan clearly enough for Terran," he finally said, anxiously. "This puts quite the wrench in our plans," Axiom said. "Even if I can complete a hack to end all hacks, it would still need to be uploaded. They will definitely have physical security in all applicable upload points this time." "And they will undoubtedly call in additional craft, at least for the next few days," Ace said, hissing. "As nice as the fighter Wildcard gave me is, it is still only a fighter." She nervously hopped from foot to foot, tail lashing.
Maestro was silent for a moment, and Najia swallowed. This was something far worse than she had thought it was - and it had been bad enough previously - now there was blood involved. This couldn't be rectified with a payday, even if she outed herself. She could try to overtly buy Lu t'Cca back, but there was no guarantee that would even work; or that Kriss Mellerd could even be trusted. She was, after all, a duplicitous traitor. "Need bigger combat ship," Maestro concluded. "Starfighter insufficient. A 'Ministry' Minotaur has been harassing ships in Windfall. It belongs to the Scale Plate Pact." He pointed at Najia. "Wildcard, you will capture it for the Ace. Axiom, with me; planning to do. Ace let out a trill, her tail lashing. "Do not worry; we will get him out!"
"Yes, we shall. Wildcard! Get that ship for Ace." Maestro turned and strode from the bridge, with Axiom in tow. Najia let out a sigh, running her hands through her hair. "His fucking brother! I wish you'd been with me," she said, huffing, picking Ace up and squeezing her tightly. She didn't care who saw her, and apparently neither did Ace, as she wrapped her arms, legs, and tail around Najia.
"It would have been easy to prevent this mistake, yes," Ace admitted, nuzzling the side of her head. "On the plus side, Sensors and I proved to be a good team, and the Paramerion you provided is a very nice craft." "Sensors? Oh." Najia grinned, smiling weakly; Ace had given Namiko a nickname, presumably on the spot, to refer to her in pirate company. "That's good, at least, and... Yeah. This is a mess." She set Ace down, huffing and leaning back on the railing behind her. "Maestro's fucking brother? Fuck... What do you know about him?"
"Maestro's brother?" Ace shook her head, pushing her goggles up all the way and rubbing the back of her neck. "He was with the crew even before I joined. But... They had a falling-out, and he left to seek new opportunities." "A falling-out?" Najia tilted her head, curiously. "Yessss," Ace said, awkwardly, unable to contain the susurrus hiss that slipped into her voice. She didn't want to keep details - that might be relevant, even - from Najia, but it would get back to Maestro if she spoke of it. She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. "I... Would rather not discuss their private matters."
Najia blinked, and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Private affairs, got it - not our business." Ace nodded at her, as she continued, "So... Now what?" "Now, we're going to attack an M-class ship in order to steal it," Ace said, turning and walking brusquely for the lift; Najia turned and followed her, trusting immediately that Ace knew what she was about. "I know well that you have combat-worthy craft and are up to this task," Ace commented, as they headed for the Shiv on the landing pad. "Yeah, we're up for it," Najia said. Fatimah looked back at them, and lifted struts at a gesture from Ace; the door sealed up, and Najia said, "but I could just... You know, give you a Falx."
Ace trilled, but it had an awkwardly vibrating character to it; Najia took it for a nervous chuckle's equavilent. "I would prefer that, but Maestro has given us a specific target. I have never seen him quite this angry, not even when Mellerd... Parted ways with us. Best, I think, to follow through. And I do not imagine you have any qualms about attacking the Scale Plate Pact."
"That's for sure," Najia said, huffing and rubbing her face. Fatimah quickly had them on the landing pad of Jackdaw and she slipped out of the fighter, Ace following her. They bypassed the lift down from the pad and went straight in through the auxiliary airlock. "What a clusterfuck," she said. "Mmmmhmmm," Marta said. "I took a page out of Boso Ta's book and was listening in. We are in deep shit now, sister," she said, then she looked at Ace; walked over to her, and patted her shoulder, firmly. "Deep shit." "The excrement in which we find ourselves is substantially closer to my nose than yours," Ace said, with a slight trill. "I hate to even consider pointing it out lest the idea has not occured to you yet, but... You could extricate yourselves from this mess."
"Yeah, not a chance in hell we're doin' that, scale-sister," Marta responded, before Najia could do more than nod. "We got Maestro's brother into this mess, it ain't our style to leave him to swing like that. We're gonna have to get him out. Somehow." Najia grinned. "Somehow. The ace in our hole - pun intended - is that I did complete the hack in Mellerd's office, and I don't think she knows. She was too busy giving me a smug runaround. The grit in our gears is that we jumped the gun by hacking the station preemptively. What happened, anyway? Did I misunderstand the plan?" "I am not sure," Ace admitted. "Namiko and I were heading to rendezvous in Eighteen Billion when we got a recall order from the Arcadian Endeavour, but it was routine, rather than an emergency. I think we both misunderstood the plan."
A long few moments of silence passed between them in companionable discontent, and then Marta snorted. "Hey, Ace, I've been meaning to ask you. How'd you like that 'game' on Najia's datapad?" Ace blinked, and looked up at her. "Odd time to bring it up. It was creatively challenging, the actual puzzle was good, but the gamification seems to be entirely left out. Is it a beta?"
Najia facepalmed as Marta chuckled. "That wasn't a game at all. You ordered the construction of a monumental facillity in Gaian Prophecy," she said, laughing wryly. Between her split fingers, she peered out and watched with gratification as Ace rocked back, alarmed, and wrapping her tail tightly around herself. "I... Er..."
"Relax," Marta said. "It was her dumb fault for just giving you her unlocked datapad." "Yeah. Also, it's... Actually, you designed a beauty of a station," Najia added. "An absolute gorgeous industrial monstrosity with a fantastic towering habitation center on top." She straightened up, smiling; beaming at Ace, who seemed to recieve the smile gladly. "So," Najia said. "We have a ship to get you. We can totally just have the Eighteen B shipyard put together a Falx, or I could have one called up from reserves..." Ace shook her head. "Maestro will not be happy a direct command was disobeyed. He might be mollified by the ship produced being manifestly superior, but it would jog his attention. He'd start to ask why we disobeyed; where we got the Falx."
"I could just give you Jackdaw," Najia noted, and Ace trilled lightly. "I appreciate it, and that might work, but he's probably going to want you in Jackdaw. We'll have to take the Minotaur."
"Right," Najia said, cracking her knuckles. "No offense, skipper, but I think we'll take the flight deck for this one." The woman with the piratical haircut and the severely 'business' outfit looked back, grinning at her. "Hell, it's about time for me to go off shift anyway."
"I should probably say something cautionary about how big this vessel is, but we are comparable in size and mass. I should warn you about how dangerous its guns are, but we are better-armed, and likely both better-shielded and more maneuverable," Ace noted from the gunnery console. "Yep. He's a big bad boy, or so he thinks," Marta noted, as Najia piloted Jackdaw towards the Minotaur up ahead. "But he's a lot bigger than the Raker Manticore he's heading for with what looks like unpleasant intentions." "Also, you brought friends," Namiko said from the cockpit of the Parmerion that Najia had given to Ace. "Damn right they did," Fatimah called from the cockpit of the Kallis-class starfighter named Shiv. "When the going gets tough, the tough call for close air support," chimed in Raeleen Baner, following Jackdaw from the flight deck of Snapping Tortoise.
"And we'll just, uh, stand by to pick up pods in case this goes completely to shit," added the pilot of the Ninja Taco, Katlin Noore. "I mean, we could make an attack run, but it seems pretty redundant at this point."
A chorus of chuckles from within and without the cockpit surrounded Najia, and she smirked, as she brought the nose of Jackdaw toward the offending disguised Scale Plate Minotaur, who was already firing upon the Raker; who was calling for help. "Break and run," she called to the Riptide scavenger. "We've got this hump."
"Mind your own ledgers," the Scale Plate pirate called back, then she heard a hiss of alarm as the pirate must have seen just how many ships were painting her with targeting sensors. Presumably in a burst of wisdom, she turned to run, but it was far too late. "Bail out or die," Najia ordered the pirate as Fatimah and Namiko roared past the Jackdaw wing by wing, rolling in and unloading with their near-identical starfighters' cannons, letting off a burst to stall the pirate from escaping into Travel Drive. A moment later, she triggered Jackdaw's mammoth rotary cannons, while the single-barreled accelerators that were Snapping Tortoise's forward armament put in their own word.
"Show me your nose and I chew it off," Najia snarled as the Minotaur raider, evidently realizing that escape was not in the cards, turned and tried to close. "She's got Shard cannons," Ace alerted. "Dangerous at close range, but not dangerous enough!"
Najia was more than willing to joust with the oncoming pirate; she had twice the weight of forward cannons, her side cannons and those of Snapping Tortoise kept up the fire as they spiraled towards one another. The Minotaur's shields collapsed totally and she took several salvoes of body blows; the two starfighters executed a wing-over roll and each strafed the Minotaur again as she tried to soar past Najia. Ace was quietly giving the gunners orders to cease fire-with-intent and only give the Minotaur an occasional bite to remind them the clock was ticking, as Najia hit the comms again. "Surrender the fucking ship or die for it. Your call." Her aft turret gave the Minotaur's aft a stitching of pulse fire, then her turrets started firing - intentionally widely, but they were making one hell of a light show.
"Fine, fine," the Scale Plate pirate called, as she saw escape pods appearing on her tactical screen. "You win, Cur! Take it and leave us in peace." Ace huffed at that. Marta chuckled. "Should we pop them sumbitches? Take 'em prisoner at least?" "Let 'em go," Najia said. "Maybe they'll turn over a new leaf, but we got what we came for." She thumbed the comms. "Everyone form up, let's inspect Ace's new prize... Woah!"
An explosion issued from the stricken ship; the starfighters peeled off get clear, just in case, and Najia and Snapping Tortoise backed off to give it room. "The fuck," Marta asked. "They may have sabotaged the ship on the way out," Ace said. "Let us wait, they may have successfully rigged it to blow entirely..."
They stood off and waited. Two more large detonations on the ship occured, but nothing further happened. After awhile, Ace and Najia suited up, approached the ship over the strenuous objections of Marta and the other captains - Najia and Ace were the only ones with real EV repair training. Carefully they checked the ship for outward signs of further destruction, and, with nothing found, proceeded in. The bailing pirate crew had sabotaged the weapons, and tried to sabotage everything, but, ironically, the damage that they had done had prevented the pirates from successfully rigging the whole ship to blow.
"This thing is a wreck. She can move... Barely," Ace noted. "But I don't much like it." "No problem," Najia said, grinning. "I have a plan," she said; they had reached the M-raider's flight deck, a narrow cockpit with no secondary seats, and were examining things. Engineers from both Jackdaw and Snapping Tortoise had teleported over to restore main power and were working on structural integrity, and Namiko had swapped with another pilot from the Tortoise, joining them on the pirate ship. "And what is that," Ace asked as Najia sat in the pilot's seat.
Najia found the Riptide Raker nearby; they had taken damage and were now restoring their own power. "Raker salvage ship, Raker salvage vessel, how are you? We have taken possession of the ship that attacked you, over." "This is the salvage tug Breem. We've had better days, but no permanent damage. You should have blown those pirates to the Tide though," the salvage tug pilot complained. "Yeah, well, they bailed out, so I wasn't gonna renege on my word. How would you like to get repairs and upgrades to your ship on my credit?"
"... I'm listening," the salvager answered. "What do I owe you for it?" "Take this vessel under tow and get us to the Takio Enterprises shipyard in Eighteen Billion. For my own reasons, I need this thing intact. Do that, and you get the works; Terran Mark Three engines and shields, top-of-the-line thrusters of your choice if you don't already have them, full hold of laser towers and countermeasures, and top-of-the-line software if needed. And of course, any hull repair. Just no questions."
After a long, tense moment, the Raker pilot commed them back. "Done deal." Najia smirked, looking back at Ace, who trilled at her.
"There we go," Najia said. She and Ace were standing under the prow of the repaired Minotaur, which Najia had caused to be painted in a shinny green-scale-and-brass scheme, and named La Tora. The vessel was now sporting a single forward pulse cannon, a launcher, and its turrets were bolts. The original thrusters had, surprisingly, been both Mark 3 Combats already, and were wholly intact, while the totally-shot crap engines had been replaced, as had the shields. "Think that will do?"
Ace trilled at her. "This is such a vessel," she said. "A jolly pirate indeed would captain this vessel." "Yeah, well... If you say so. I'm still worried it's a little... Undergunned... Undershielded... Flimsy. I'd rather put you in one of my Falx frigates, but, this will hopefully do." She huffed, and hugged Ace again. "You ready?"
"As likely I will be. Namiko is waiting for me in La Tora's bridge. I already told Maestro that the ship was badly damaged and you were paying for repair and retrofit, and had already bargained for it before I could ask the Curs for assistance. He accepted that," Ace said, pressing her head into Najia's chest. "Thank you. For not abandoning us." Najia grinned, and simply kissed the top of Ace's crest. She then let go, patting Ace's bicep. "Let's get to our ships and see what Maestro wants." She gestured to the Jackdaw; it, and all of 'Wildcard's' ships, had been repainted in a beautiful, eye-searing neon-yellow-and-stark-white set of colors, and had been given nondescript generic transponders. That would likely not fool anyone who was looking too closely, but... "Indeed. I may have to rename the ship, though... 'La Tora' means something very rude in Teladi." She trilled. "Let us be off," Ace said. She pulled out her datapad, and Najia stepped back as Ace activated the 'teleport-me-aboard' function. Moments later, Ace became visible in the high flight-deck window, leaning over Namiko and waving at her. Najia waved, and recalled herself to the Shiv.
Najia stopped by the bridge of the Arcadian Endeavour when first she landed, but though it was fully-staffed, Maestro wasn't there. One of the crewwomen informed her that the senior planners were meeting in the crew quarters. She headed for the lift; Marta had come along, wearing her 'piratical' outfit and projecting an aura of 'this woman is my sister, mess with her and you mess with me'.
They found the core members of the Empryean Curs in a lounge aboard the Arcadian Endeavour. Najia noted, with a slight twist of the lips, that it looked as if the room had undergone a recent makeover - with fixtures and sundries procured at her stations. She wondered if that was a subtle message.
The lights were low, and for a moment Najia was worried it might be an ambush. Clearly the same idea occurred to Marta, but Ace was relaxed, at ease, so Najia patted Marta's hand as they entered the room. There was no ambush. "Everyone attending now," Maestro declared. "Good. Split allowed all time Split could spare for Wildcard to prep." Ace let out a soft trill, looking over at Najia. "Yes, and my shiny new combat ship could come in very handy, once it is time to disengage!"
Najia grinned at Ace, nodding. She sucked in a breath to ask a question, but Maestro beat her to the punch. "Now, time for decisive action! No longer just plan of petty revenge, or even business! Mellerd looking to strike low blow, involving someone who no longer in game!" He huffed. "Curs can play game too, but better! Breaking out Split's brother now priority."
Najia nodded, and cracked her knuckles. "Got it. After all, we got him into this mess." Ace nodded, and looked from her to Maestro. "Are we still going after the Science Division prototype?" "Yes!" Maestro responded. "After prison break-out, Wildcard make way through internal ducts, connected to hangar. Then, proceed to make escape in prototype ship."
Axiom made a satisfied-sounding rumbling. "It's a sound plan. They'll not expect you to use their precious ship for the getaway." "Right. Because you'd expect a prison break to have an exit strategy arranged outside, so they'll probably pull security from the hangar to respond to the cells."
Maestro nodded. "As to how you gain access to station in first place, Axiom will tag along. Hack into their system. Serve as on-ground supervisor. No time to waste. Get to it!" He gestured to the door, vehemently, clearly unwilling to brook dissent or entertain questions. Najia started at that. "But..."
Ace grasped her hand. "We've got this. Trust Axiom to hold up his end of the plan," she said, preempting Najia's objection, as Maestro strode out. Najia sighed, huffed, and nodded. "Alright! So, back to the Shiv?" "No; we procured one of the Ministry's petty patrol vessels just for transport. Less recognizable vessels involved, the better. Besides, the ship that lands is probably not leaving again. Best it be one of theirs."
Najia let out a sigh. The plan sounded slapdash at best, but she nodded. "Right."
"The ground infiltration is not a three person task," Ace said, as she, Najia, Axiom and Marta arrived on the pad. "Wildcard, you will have to go alone with Axiom." Marta snorted, and sighed. "I don't like it. Be safe, sister," she said, punching Najia's bicep, enough to ache slightly. Najia smirked back at her, as Axiom hurried to climb into the Callisto procured for the infiltration. "Don't worry, I'll keep Axiom safe," Najia said, smirking back at Marta. "Ace, keep her safe." "I'll deliver her to Jackdaw once we've transferred to Carefree Whirlwind."
Najia grinned, and hastened to climb aboard the Callisto after Axiom. She looked around the cockpit of the small craft, and winced; it was small indeed. "Buckle up, Wildcard," Axiom said from the pilot's seat. Najia laughed incredulously. "Where," she demanded, and got a hearty, deep laugh for her troubles, as Axiom piloted the craft up and off the landing pad. Moments later, they were zooming ahead from where the Arcadian Endeavour was lurking, outside of Wormwood Scrubs' customary sensor perimeter.
"I have to admit, I am nervous!" Axiom declared. Najia stood behind him, clutching an upright chicken-stick and peering around his side. She winced at his declaration, as he continued, "Sure, I have been involved in large-scale operations before, but never quite like this." Wormwood Scrubs loomed in the distance, and Najia wondered why what was ostensibly a prison complex had large fabrications facillities built in. She didn't imagine it was ever a good idea to put prisoners to work building things they could sabotage that would be vital. "I just hope the Maestro can keep his cool throughout it all," Axiom added.
"Mmmhmm," Najia agreed nonverbally. "The fact that his brother is now involved is weighing heavily on him. Mellerd sure knew how to provoke a reaction!" Najia snorted. "Yeah, well... The smug bitch is gonna regret that, that's for damn sure. How much her ability to make us regret making her regret this day, well, that's an open question. There'll be recriminations to go around one way or another, I think."
Axiom made his own nonverbal sound of agreement, as he swept the ship in to a landing, over what looked like the prison module, and landing at the conventional small craft dock. "Okay, this is it. Initiating docking," he said, pointlessly, Najia thought. "You know what to do, right," Axiom asked, as he turned his chair aruond. Najia noted that the incredibly-tall Paranid piloted whilst standing; the standard-issue pilot's chair had actually extended into something like an amusement-park-ride standing back-rest for him. "I will spoof your credentials, so that you can gain entry into the prison complex again. Then locate Lucca. I'll talk you through the rest." As he said that, he departed, and Najia pressed into the tiny airlock to let him pass, then followed him down and out the aft ladder. "Good luck," Axiom said, as he headed for his left. Najia pulled the pistol from her hip, checked its magazine, chambered a round, and returned it to its holster.
"Hope I don't need this," she muttered to herself, heading for another lift. She slipped in, and pulled the bug-checker app that Marta had loaded onto her commlink up, checking it with her free hand. Unless the Ministry had access to way better spy gear than she did - and knowing what penny-pinchers they were, and Boso Ta's opinion of their cleverness, she doubted that very much - she was in the clear. She had a comms tap to the Curs - and her own crew - and it was unobstructed, unobserved. Neither were any security devices capturing her images; either Marta's previous hack was still in effect, Axiom's work was being done, or both.
Najia's heart raced as she exited the lift into the first level of the prison complex. This was, she thought, insanity; she wasn't a covert operative. Her martial arts skill was amatuer at best. If she ran into any prison guards, her only hope would be to shoot them. She had confidence that her Predator pistol's armor-penetrating, 10mm magnum rounds would do the job; but she'd never shot in anger at anyone else face-to-face before, and she really didn't want to start doing so on a Ministry prison station where her real identity was known. And she was going into a prison. If she could think of any one place where the Teladi would not pinch pennies on personnel, it would be a prison. Yet, instead of finding a security checkpoint outside the lift, she walked into an empty corridor.
Najia blinked, as Axiom placed a call to her. "According to our intel, Lucca should be somewhere on this floor." Najia huffed, and followed the line projected in her HUD. Every step down the corridor seemed to Najia as if it echoed like a cannon discharge, and she nervously checked each way at every intersection, pistol in her hands, selector switch set to two-round burst. Every heartbeat felt like an eternity, at every corner she expected to be jumped by a guard, yelled at, or simply shot. She made it to a cell block - three rooms off a guard room with a desk, seperated from the main room by bars. She swept side to side, thinking surely there must be a guard actually watching prisoners but after an anticlimactic moment, realized there was not. She was alone, save for that one cell was occupied, by Lu t'Cca - or Lucca? She was fuzzy on that.
"Hmm," Axiom's voice came over her earpiece. "That console's connection to the cell doors has been severed. Standard procedure." Najia wondered how in the hell that made sense - but then, the consoles were actually within arm's reach of a prisoner inside the cells. And if the cell blocks were going to go unsupervised...
The phrase 'criminally negligent' crossed Najia's mind, as Axiom continued, "This will slightly raise our profile, but I should be able to... Adjust it remotely." Najia nodded, took a deep breath, walking to the darkened cell door. Lu t'Cca was within. He did not look pleased to see her, as he pushed himself up from the too-narrow, Teladi-sized cot. "You! Creature! Worst taxi driver Split ever met! Creature blind or just stupid?!" His vehemence was understandable, and it still made Najia step back on her heel, as he thundered at her, rising to his feet, "Split kill you after escape! Beat first, then kill! Or pretend Split is Taxi driver, deliver creature to blood-traitor, then beat, then kill!"
Najia felt a tremble run down her back, stiffening her shoulders. She was mightily tired of being disrespected, belittled, or downplayed; by, it seemed, just about everyone in the sector, from Boso Ta calling her 'Assistant' to Maestro giving her names on a whim to Brantlee Northriver's dismissive and smug attitude as if he was the biggest big-shot humanity had ever produced to Kriss Mellerd's faking a call as if she were taking her seriously to, well, Lucca (a) calling her a taxi-driver and (b) threatening her a violent and graphic death. The urge to bellow 'shut up' and hold him at gunpoint welled up deeply inside her. Her hand twitched with her firearm in it... Then she huffed, and with a decisive motion, holstered it. "Calm the fuck down," she snapped at him. Not very diplomatic, but considering that her first notion had been to literally hold him at gunpoint, it was fairly moderate.
"Split not calm down!" he retorted, seething - though his eyes were drawn by the motion of her holstering her weapon. "Creature calm down first, or... Or...!" He inarticulated a sound of exasperation. "Split realize creature still here. Why come? What else creature want but gloat?" He did, in fact, sound calmer now; perhaps the fact that she could have shot him, or threatened to do so, and that many of his past life's associates would have done just that after the violent death he had promised them, and yet she had not, got through to him. Or perhaps he simply mastered his temper because she was armed.
"Look, The Curs -" "Split want nothing to do with filthy, dishonorable Curs!" Lu t'Cca ranted. "Except if making amends," he added, almost parenthetically, seemingly swinging wildly between reconciliatory and fury. "Split tried to make peace, leave past behind. Brothers, sisters, friend-foes, conflict, tangle, chaos! No honor! Only choice, was no choice!" He ranted, on a roll, and Najia decided to let him wind himself down. "Enough talk! Creature take responsibility, now! Help Split escape, then Split not kill. Maybe!"
Najia rolled her eyes; she wanted to point out that she could still just shoot him. Instead, she said, "Let's get the hell out of here." "What creature waiting for," Lucca thundered at her. "Open cell, or eat fist!" Najia restrained her ire to a low growl in the back of her throat. She was really tired of receiving physical threats from an imprisoned man, even if he had every reason to be pissed at her. She was about to point out again that she armed, when Axiom thankfully interrupted. "If the Triangularity wills it... There we go! The door controls should be enabled now. Try them."
Najia stepped over to the console next to the prison door, and started to look it up and down. Numbers scrolled on the screen rapidly, she flicked through menues, but though she started to search more and more frantically, it was just a bio of the prisoner with everything redacted, and a log of routine entries - prison mealtimes and stuff. She started to hiss, low in her throat, as she frantically flipped back to the root menu, but there was nothing useful there. Paranoidally, she glanced over her shoulder, but there was noone at the door. She took her hand off the hilt of her pistol, scrambling to the desk. There was no active console on it, but one beside it, on the wall; she hurried to it, but it was simply mirrors of the console on the wall, reflecting all three cells. Frantically, she dropped to a squat, looking under the desk, above it, feeling under it, but she couldn't find any hidden consoles.
Near to panic, she looked up, and saw there was a tiny, easily-overlooked button next to the cell door, trivially within reach of the prisoner. No, she thought. That couldn't possibly be it. It was too exposed. Any careless slip in forgetting to disconnect it, and a prisoner could be out anytime.
The words criminally negligent ran through her head as she reached out and tapped the button. Of course it opened.

So I recently switched from TMCC to Zerenia due to TMCC ending their Project T21 participation. Zerenia have been pretty fab. Unfortunately Curaleaf have let the side down massively.
So I get an email from Curaleaf saying they have my script, with a payment link. Everything as expected, 60g Khiron22, total of £300 plus shipping. Awesome. Paid. Waited. A few days later I get an email saying I’m being refunded. No explanation, nobody answering the phones. That was on Friday. I’ve finally had a response now and they’ve decided that I actually need to be paying £420 plus shipping.
Without being funny, a leap of £120 is entirely unaffordable and I’m livid. Can anyone tell me if that’s par for the course with Curaleaf? I’ve told them to take a hike and asked for my script to be sent to Dispensary Green because I’ve dealt with them before, never had these issues, and wasn’t getting penalised for living in Northern Ireland by getting hit with additional shipping costs.
I’ve zero confidence in Curaleaf now because the whole experience with them has quite honestly stunk of a scam. I’ve been unmedicated for some time now because of my GP delaying sending evidence to the clinic and honestly the delays are starting to pose a real danger to my health because I’d come off all other prescriptions when I responded well to medical cannabis. I’m feeling totally screwed over by the system right now and altogether hopeless.

Themes
Romance, drama, slow-burn, real issues with real people, maybe enemies to lovers or maybe they can both have issues and their mental health can be all the conflict we need to keep it interesting. xD
What am I looking for in a co-author? 1. Be chill, have fun. 2. Post when you can, at a length that makes sense (or a length you like). 3. Care about writing. Enjoy the process. Recognize it’s for fun, not to compensate for some other issue. 4. If you aren’t feeling it, speak up. We can adjust or part ways with no hard feelings.
Setting
It’s the current era, New York City. Magic exists, like the arts and science exist, and like any other creative process, some have more talent or have practiced and learned more than others.
There had always been envy and resentment for the Gifted, as they were occasionally called, but casters of any school of magic usually had their own communities since a certain lifestyle developed around certain school. For all the rest of humanity, enchanted items were available--often at ghastly prices--though cheaper, disposable pieces looking like cheap jewelry or furniture or whatever else were made, either limited in charges or effect. And like anything else, it all ended up needing repair, or needing to be sold for a quick buck. Which is how arcane shops became a thing.
A (long) intro to this world and my character and his damage/plot hook is below. You will never, ever be expected to post this much at once. It can be a paragraph or two.
Ideas for your character? A healer, an illusionist, a normal nurse, a teacher, a good student who just feels like helping someone—basically, a positive influence and whatever that may look like. I’m wide open suggestions or brainstorming with you. Same for the setting for that matter, just let me know if you’re interested!
-L
"Arcane Pawn & Repair;" so read the sign of tarnished brass and emerald marble that should have been scrubbed two seasons ago. This grand placard was completely at odds with the simple structure of dark wood that made up the place. The windows that began at chest height were old and interlaced with ornate metal framing, like stained glass without the color, offering an obscured view into a cluttered place where light was admitted, and voyeurs denied.
Upon entry, two stories of anything and everything one might find in a second-hand store loomed large, with sunlight holding its breath and turning sideways to push past. Worn and loved instruments, flashy ballgowns, brightly painted toys, ancient rugs, massive tomes, weapons, tools, nightstands and stain glass lamps to name but a few.
A mixture of scents—old lacquer, coffee, and anise cigarettes—competed for nasal dominance. Gentle music played: a woman singing an old French song while a pianist waltzed beside her, each note the footfall of his fingertips.
From a small room behind the counter, Lysias sang along with some slight skill, turning an old violin over in his hands. The sunlight that filtered in caught on the pits and chips of worn lacquer like it were being graded by one of his old professors, highlighting the imperfections with supposed warmth that dimmed the excellence of the work, nevertheless. It was a fine violin, too: one of the few brought in that was actually worth working on.
The varnish would need to be stripped before he could do anything, of course, like rehydrating the wood or sealing it—a tedious process by anyone’s standard but his, for ruination rested within his every breath, just waiting to be sighed out, that another thing of beauty would be wrecked before his downcast eyes.
The cuss walked with him. Lived with him. Breathed with him.
Ate at him. Stole from him. Marginalized. Vilified. Consoled. Condemned.
It eased his sorrows and diminished his joys, adding and subtracting the human experience until the sum of his life was zero; no highs, no lows, just a meaningless medium. The cuss was parasite and partner both. He almost hated it when he had the energy to hate something.
Lysias raised a finger, a mote of darkness erasing a spot in the air above it. As small as it was, he could hear the music bending, the sounds of the busy street outside distorted by its presence, like there was water in his ear. The lacquer of the violin was gone in a blink, and the cuss was put away again, as much as some distant, broken part of him wanted to watch as it ran loose in the streets.
Those visions always came. He knew what it wanted. But fuck what it wanted. It had more than enough of him as it was.
Turning for the sanding block, he saw the ad for New York Healing Institute he pulled from his mailbox. A few stand-out words were read over his scarlet-lensed glasses. “It’s never too late to learn!” He had thoughts about that but ignored them. “NYHI has new scholarships and grants for the aspiring healer! Find us on the web at—“
It was ridiculous.
Besides, no one would have a self-taught, null-aspected mage anyway. Just being around other casters as they spoke or chanted or sang or drew or painted their magic was enough to unravel it sometimes, and that was without trying. If a caster actually came at him, it wasn’t even a fight; he didn’t have to say a word to cuss out their pretty sparks and flames, turning their power and years of study into less than a fizzled out bottle rocket.
As long as they were within a few feet of him.
And they weren’t a mind mage.
Or an illusionist.
…Fine maybe a few others, but generally, he could take care of himself.
Grabbing the sanding block, the long, thin scar that ran from his wrist his elbow flashed silver in the sunlight, right between the fingertips of the deep red tattoo. It looked like a large hand clutched his wrist and held it together.
Just like a hand did, once.
Twice, if you count the other wrist.
Yeah Lysias, you can take care of yourself alright.
It was an eternal reminder of where the cuss would lead if he let it. Green eyes flicked again to the article, to the propaganda and its ludicrous optimism.
It was ridiculous.
But still.
Still, he wondered if there were pretty sparks that could restore what the dark had devoured.
Lysias was wallowing of a fine state of self-pity when the door jingled. Yet another customer here to rudely interrupt his pity party. He was just about list every girl that had ever shot him down, too.
With a sigh, he pushed up his glasses and stepped out from the back in a metal band tee, some torn black jeans and his $1,200 black caiman cowboy boots with matching belt and a giant, tarnished sterling buckle with a big “L” in 18k gold.
He saw them from the corner of his eye, and instead focused on straightening the bracelets in the display case, both magical and mundane. “Weeeeelcome to Arcane Pawn & Repair,” he drawled, monotone, “where we REPair, REstore, and REgret every decision that brought us here. What do you want?”

Hi friends! I submitted a diary in February 2021 that you can find here! Since then we’ve sold one house, started higher-paying jobs, moved states to be closer to family, rented a kind of busted house, bought another charming fixer-upper of a house, and given in fully to lifestyle creep, especially when it comes to plants and gardens.
❤️ Section 1: Assets and Debt
Total Net Worth: $108,763 if you believe the equity calculator I reference below. Negative tens of thousands if you think the housing market is about to crash or even just reset!
Retirement Balance: $10,000 for me, split just about evenly between a Roth and a 401k; $25,500 for my husband, L. This will make more sense when you get to the “income progression” section, and after you accompany me as I spend money like I have money to spend, every day.
Savings Account Balance: $17,000 split between an “upcoming house repairs & dental fund.” The first $7k is spoken for already between a big chimney repair ($3k) and an expensive upcoming dental appointment for L ($4k), both in April. The remaining $10k we don’t touch – it’s for an emergency fund.
Checking Account Balance: About $1200. I try to keep this pretty low to discourage my own spending, which works only sometimes.
Credit Card Debt: $12,100 left from our home renovations and move last October. We got two 0% APR cards to finance this, and will pay both off before the APR jumps at the end of this year.
Student Loan Debt: $80,000 for L’s undergrad and MAT. $18,000 for my undergrad and (unfinished, womp womp) MAT. We aren’t paying on this til we have to, and are hoping it will be forgiven – mine via Biden, since I was a Pell Grant recipient, and L’s via PSLF.
Equity: $145,000. This number is from an online equity calculator, and is for our century-old house in a very walkable neighborhood in a popular Southern city, but who knows whether it’s real or not. Numbers that are real: We paid $575,000 for the home last fall, including a 20% down payment that my dad split evenly with us – his portion from his recent inheritance, our portion from the sale of our previous home.
When we started looking in 2021, our “stretch budget” was $450k, but the housing market exploded and it seemed like overnight the base budget for kind of place we were looking for was more like $650k (I’m committed to city living, and we wanted to make sure there was enough space for my sister, J, and her boyfriend to continue living with us, given the skyrocketing rent prices). We bit the bullet on this place after my dad offered to pay for half the down payment. That gift helped us avoid PMI, so that the rent we were paying for a worse place was comparable to the monthly payment on this one. We spent the remaining $15,000 from our previous home sale buying down the rate and on moving costs, repairs, furnishing, gardens, appliances, etc, and then still took out about $12,000 more in credit card debt to renovate the bathrooms and make a few other upgrades.
❤️ Section 2: Income
Monthly Take Home: My base pay is $125,000, and L’s is $55,000. We bring in about $11,400 a month after taxes. The whole family’s health insurance is paid in full by my work, and our pre-tax retirement contribution details are below.
Income Progression: I’ve been working since I was 15 years old, moved out at 18, and paid my own bills starting that year, but income below starts the year I graduated college.
Year 1: $15,000 (part time ABA therapist, full time baby anarchist)
Years 2-8: $28,000 (This is a rough average of my income across these years. I accepted a spot in Teach for America right out of college in order to have a salary, despite my maximalist politics at the time, and kept working with young people for years after my TFA service ended. I paid for L’s expenses in college and supported a few other family members off and on while I taught. When I took a big pay cut to do youth organizing work for a couple years, L’s teacher salary helped support us).
Year 9: $45,000 (got a full-time nonprofit fundraising job, quit teaching)
Year 10: $55,000 (got a raise)
Year 11: $65,000 (got a raise and promotion)
Year 12: $75,000 (was promoted again, realized I was still underpaid)
Year 13: $98,000 (was hired by my current employer)
Year 14: $125,000 (was promoted!)
❤️ Section 3: Expenses
Mortgage, Taxes, & Insurance: About $3,000. My sister and her boyfriend currently live with us and contribute $600 of this total payment each month, but we budget as if we pay the full mortgage ourselves.
Investment Contribution: L’s retirement is pulled out of his check before he receives it: it’s $289 a month. I put $170 into my 401k, directly out of my check. I also contribute $100 to a Roth IRA through Acorns each month. Through Acorns we also have a UTMA/UGMA account for B which gets $100 a month, and we put $40 a month into a taxable brokerage account.
Savings Contribution: We tally an extra $1.5k-$3k a month beyond expenses, and are expecting $6k back from our tax return this year. But we aren’t prioritizing savings right now, and instead are: 1. cashflowing L’s timely dental work (found out in the course of this diary that we’re looking at about $11k this year); 2. paying down the debt on our credit cards ($12k, see above); and 3. cashflowing a few must-do house projects (estimating about $8k for those).
Debt Payments: See above! As I mentioned, we have student loan debt to the tune of $100k but aren’t paying right now. I actually paid my loans down by $10k during COVID with money from our first house sale. But I panicked when Biden said he was going to forgive loans and got my full payment during the pandemic – all $10k – reversed. That money is now our emergency savings account.
Electric/Gas: $150ish, varies significantly. We installed a high-efficiency wood stove when we moved in, which cuts down on the cost of our old furnace a bit.
Internet: $80
Water: $75
Cellphone: $100, for L & I both
Subscriptions: $10 Spotify; $10 Youtube music; $2.99 Apple data; $22 NYT, for newspaper and cooking app; $5 for Acorns. I also pay yearly: $40 for the Freedom app, $20 for Hobnob, and $60 for Insight Timer.
Car Payment and Insurance: $200 for insurance. This covers both of our used cars and my dad’s used handicap van. We paid off our 2012 Honda Fit when we sold our last house, and recently paid cash for a Honda CRV with 180k miles which we use for family trips.
Medical/Therapy: $0. My therapist is $181 a session, and I see her twice a month – but this is covered by my job’s MERP card. I also get an inhaler at least twice a month - that’s reimbursed too, but would cost $60 otherwise.
Pet Expenses: Our precious pittie suffered some injuries before we adopted her. She’s on Gabapentin daily for pain management which is about $60 a month.
CSA: $40/week minimum – this is a special CSA service that has all kinds of tempting goodies, so I usually spend more.
Coworking space: $150. I expense $100 of this to work.
Gym memberships: $75 for a family Y membership, and $120 for my spin studio; I also buy 10-packs to the yoga studio down the street every few months, which are $120 a pop**.**
Donations: Varies. We give $10 monthly to our local Democratic Socialists of America and $10 monthly to the Working Families Party. We give one-off donations when asked or when we come across a need, usually $50-$100 at a time. Once we have less immediate debt, I plan to up our recurring gifts.
Childcare: $600. B goes to the best public preschool in the land – he was on the waiting list for 18 months. We previously paid double this for a subpar Montessori school run out of a church basement. Often babysitting is an extra $100 or so a month.
Kids’ Activities: $120 every three months or so – think swim lessons, toddler soccer, etc.
Outdoorsy memberships: $110 yearly for memberships to nonprofit parks, botanical gardens, etc etc. These are not too expensive and a fun way to spend a day with little ones.
House cleaner: $320. They come twice a month and charge $160 each time. This is some of the best money I spend each month.
Nuuly: $94. This has been a gamechanger for work travel.
❤️ Section 4: Money Diary
✨DAY 1: TUESDAY✨
5:00 am: I wake up wheezing with two pudgy legs draped right across my chest. My three-year-old, B, gave me a cold that I’ve just recovered from, but my asthma is still a bit aggrieved. I disentangle myself from B and head downstairs to make a french press and get some work in before everyone’s up.
6:30 am: B comes running downstairs, naked and boisterous as ever. I spare a thought for my little sister, J, and her boyfriend, who share a wall with him. J and her boyfriend have been living with us since the deep pandemic when we all moved together, which has been a blessing for us. But the early mornings and constant circulating upper respiratory infections are doing them in, and they’re moving to a nearby apartment in May. This very basic one-bedroom will double their monthly rent D: And, since J is finishing up school right now and doesn’t have a steady income, L and I had to cosign their lease in order for them to even qualify for the place. Big sigh on housing across America right now.
7:15 am: B and L head out, and I get dressed and do a little more work. At 8:30, I head to my first-ever dermatologist appointment. My mom recently treated me to a mothedaughter facial where I learned that the creeping redness on my nose is likely hereditary rosacea! The facialist suggested I make an appointment with a dermatologist after I informed her that my skincare routine has to date involved only a wet rag and a heavy moisturizer.
The dermatologist suggests a gentle papaya cleanser; a phyto vitamin c serum; a rosacea triple cream; and a moisturizing sunscreen. The cost for the appointment itself ($150) is covered by my MERP card from work**,** but I pay for the cleanser, serum, and sunscreen from his office ($141) and the rosacea triple cream from an online pharmacy ($49) out of pocket. Thus begins my first-ever skincare routine. Sadly, the dermatologist’s proprietary packaging is ugly, so if you use something similar but cute, please share a link.
10:00 am: I’ve walked the dog, made another cup of coffee, turned on Freedom, and am settling into my laptop for a day of toggling between Google Docs and Zoom rooms.
12:30 pm: M barks rancorously as I’m wrapping up a Zoom call. The Tubies I ordered last week for me (and B) were delivered. It’s SPRING and we are about to eat SMOOTHIE POPS, everybody. It’s also time for lunch, so I heat up this very yummy soup (we subbed veggie sausage and it worked well) and toast a piece of focaccia. I read “I Went On A Package Trip for Lonely Millennials” while I eat. It is every bit as unsettling as it sounds.
1:40 pm: L calls — B has had diarrhea at school and needs to come home. B’s preschool is in the public school where L teaches, which means L handles all pick up and drop off, but my work schedule is much more flexible than L’s so I often do early pickups like this one. I shift my afternoon meetings, notify my direct reports that I’m signing out early, and stop for gas on the way to pick up poor little B. ($40)
4:30 pm: B and I spent the afternoon doing quiet things together – he took a bath, played with toys, and watched some PBS Kids, and I took a few minutes to tie up some loose ends at work. When L gets home at 4:30, we set up the sprinkler on our tiny front “lawn” (currently actually a patch of very-tilled dirt), where we recently seeded low-growing wildflowers.
6:00 pm: I want to drink wine with L while we make veggie fried rice for dinner, but think better of it given that I just got over a cold. L offers to make me a hot toddy (yesssss) but then realizes we’re out of lemons. He and B head to the grocery store around the corner while I finish up dinner. They get lemons, a lime, and a giant bag of lollipops for L’s students. ($11) The hot toddy is delicious.
9:00 pm: B’s bedtime routine is a wrap and my new skincare routine is complete – turns out my face does feel cleaner after a cleanser! I take a nebulizer treatment and read my favorite book that has completely transformed my life, Overcoming Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts: A CBT-Based Guide to Getting Over Frightening, Obsessive, or Disturbing Thoughts, until we turn out the lights. Goodnight!
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $241
✨ DAY 2: WEDNESDAY✨
5:00 am: I wake up wheezing deeply again. I head downstairs to eat a cold banana and take a prednisone left over from the last time my asthma was aggravated by a cold. I decide to sit for a little Sarah Blondin meditation by the woodstove before I start my early-morning work block. Lesson 8 in this course is my go-to, and is alone worth every bit of the yearly Insight Timer fee.
7:00 am: B and L are awake, but B is staying home from school today so things are a bit slower. I make a mango smoothie for B and then add kale and protein powder for L and I. At 7:45 I don my favorite lilac workout onesie (I have it in black too) and head to my spin class.
9:00 am: I am but one month into spin classes and totally enamored. The dark room and loud music extremely do it for me. After class I stop at the coffee shop next door and buy a big drip coffee to split with L, a sticky bun for L and B to share, and a bag of coffee beans cause we are almost out at home. ($28)
9:30 am: Take a quick post-spin shower while I listen to Iris Dement’s new album, which serves the sound I grew up on and a very earnest progressivism that reminds me of my parents and their sweet Boomer friends who care deeply about abortion access and post anti-racist memes on Facebook. I cover my body in Warm Feelings, spritz on Winter (the best), wriggle into some cheetah-print overalls, and head down to work until L leaves in about an hour and a half.
12:00 pm: My meeting with my boss ran over so L had to leave for work while I was mid-call. I extricate B from Disney+ (we use J’s login) and receive only a moderate tantrum in response. After some breaths, B lays on his blue rug and pretends he’s eating his lunch (a mango pop, grilled cheese, & berries) in the shallow end of a swimming pool. Pre-nap, we read Gabito, a recent fave, and B’s eyes flutter closed during the last few pages. Back to work!
3:30 pm: B comes running into my office but I need to wrap up an important task, so we listen to superhero stories together while I tappity tap. It’s raining out, and L isn’t due home til 6p, so I make a gametime decision to spend the afternoon doing one fun inside thing for me (pick out berry bushes for our garden!) and one fun thing inside thing for B (ride rides inside the mall near the garden center!). B and I gather $2.50 in quarters for his rides, and he dons his Ironman costume and rainboots for the occasion.
At the garden center, we pick out two triple crown blackberry bushes, two chandler blueberry bushes, one heritage everbearing raspberry bush, and, after a quick phone consultation with L, one black tartarian cherry tree. L loves cherries and is very excited to use them in his cocktail-making. We also pick up a galvanized steel watering can since my old thrifted one keeps leaking all over the floor when I water my inside plants. The total is $253. Because I am very excited about this purchase and it’s for our house, it counts as free in my heart.
4:30 pm: B and I are the only nerds in the mall wearing KN95s and clutching quarters in our fists. So far B has purchased a ride on a train ($1) and some tiny banana candies ($.50). He settles on a very exciting race car for his final four quarters – but the greedy car eats his money!!! ($1) We are both very sad, and start searching for a ride that might take a debit card. Then, suddenly, to our left, appears a LEGO STORE. B dashes in and we find that you can build your own tiny Lego person. He happily obliges and I spend $5 on a three-inch-tall Lego man with a spider face and a big helmet.
6:30 pm: Back at home, L and I discuss our most exciting news of the week – L’s youngest sister and her partner arrive at their new apartment in our city TONIGHT! They’ve been living several states away for years. L’s whole family lives in the area and we are all thrilled these two are coming back home. L, B, and I plan to help them unpack tomorrow, and I think we should take them a gift. L heads out to the bottle store down the street to buy two bottles of Morphos (one for us!) ($52), and then goes to the grocery store to buy White Claws and some pull-ups for B. ($25) We could save more money but life is for living.
Dinner is leftover fried rice, and B doesn’t fall asleep til 9. L and I take our favorite CBD gummies before bed and I read the “soft fruits” section of Down to Earth to prepare for our big planting this weekend.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $365.50
✨ DAY 3: THURSDAY✨
6:00 am: I wake up late today – I had trouble sleeping because I couldn’t breathe all night. I make my favorite smoothie for breakfast (which is something like this but incorporates protein powder and frozen kale and cayenne), L eats oatmeal, and B eats two mango smoothie pops plus a cereal bar. They leave around 7:15 am and I get myself together to walk the dog before heading to my coworking space for the day.
8:30 am: I pack up my stuff and ride my bike to my pretty coworking space. The sun is out! It’s spring! The trees are blooming! Everyone is glad.
1:45 pm: I heat up fried rice and drink some of the on-tap kombucha. While I eat, I read Today in Tabs and consider adding it to my monthly expenses so that I can read it more. Our cleaner texts that they’re done at the house, and I Venmo her $160 (included in monthly expenses).
3:10 pm: I decide to bike home before the final Zoom call of the day. I cannot stress enough how glorious it is outside. It’s also glorious inside, thanks to our fabulous cleaner.
Post-call, I make some smol avocado toasts and L calls to say his sibling is not in fact up for a visit tonight – they are whelmed by boxes. We pivot: bike ride to the playground! While at the playground, B is the first kid to hear the ICE CREAM TRUCK approach. Chaos ensues and we spend $5 on one scoop of cookie dough ice cream.
7:00 pm: For dinner we make mini pizzas on TJ’s cauliflower crust. I also make asparagus with a delicious flaked salt left by my bestie the last time they stayed over, and the result is pretty enough to text to them. L makes us gin fizzes with strawberries and with mint from the garden. 🌱
8:00 pm: Teeth brushing is always a slog with B, but on this night I am visited by a stroke of genius. Tonight, I explain to him that the tooth fairy has been hired for a residency at our place and is listening in while he brushes his teeth and uses the potty. If he does a good job, she’ll leave him a coin somewhere in his bedroom. L overhears and makes tooth fairy sounds (think tinkling giggles) from the hallway – B is delighted and brushes his teeth with aplomb. This is a big win! While he uses the potty, I steal away and hide a quarter under the toe of his stuffed Spiderman. He requests tooth fairy bedtime stories and falls asleep listening. ($.25)
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $5.25
✨ DAY 4: FRIDAY✨
6:00 am: Another late wakeup for me. I have a spin class at 8 and a packed workday, so I make my favorite smoothie again and walk M while it’s still dark out. Afterwards, I help B with his teeth brushing/potty routine, and it continues to be so much smoother than ever before thanks to our friend the tooth fairy. This time, L stashes a dime under B’s stuffed bear. B proudly puts the dime and last night’s quarter in his coat pocket and, as I buckle him into his car seat, announces he is NOT sharing his money with his teacher today. I suppose the discussion about whether money should be treated as a public good or a personal asset can come later. On the way to school, L stops for gas. ($25 for gas, $.10 for the tooth fairy)
8:00 am: I arrive at the spin studio and learn that the teacher I expected overslept. His sub unfortunately leaves half the lights on and plays lots of Eminem. I survive the weird vibes and head home for a quick shower before work – no coffee shop stop this time! I am a disciplined and frugal Recessionist millennial.
10:15 am: Our CSA is delivered! It includes spinach, heirloom tomatoes (!! new this week!), apples, lacinato kale, meyer lemons, limes, oyster mushrooms, shiitake mushrooms, red onions, shishito peppers, and mixed cherry tomatoes, plus a delivery charge, for $63, $23 more than the monthly minimum I included in set expenses. I fetch it from the sunny porch and am reminded that urgently want a pair of white platform Birkenstocks for spring. I find a pair in my size in EUC on Poshmark and buy them now: $60 with shipping, a steal compared to $110 new!
1:00 pm: My delightful neighbor and I take lunch together! We walk to a nearby eatery where I get a tempeh reuben and diet soda (my vice), $18 including tip. Over lunch we discuss parenting, gardening, her upcoming major home renovation, and how squirrels can sometimes relocate crocus bulbs. Meanwhile, B and L have early release at school so they head to a kid’s play place as a special treat to B. ($23 with snacks)
3:30 pm: B is home early but, curses, I still have much work to do! He and L chill while I tappity tap for a while longer. I eventually wrap up, but will have to do more work over the weekend.
L wants to work in his shop for a while, so B and I take the bike to the playground. He is a very good friend at the playground, running around happily with a couple of 7-year-olds he’s never met and then, when they leave, chatting amicably with an 18-month-old and his parents. He periodically begs me to let him take his pants off so he can better pretend he’s in the pool. The answer is no, but he is shirtless, shoeless, and covered in “tattoos” (washable marker), and I think that’s a pretty good compromise.
7:00 pm: Back home, L is making dinner (avocado tacos!), and I announce to him that we need a few more spring items: new (unscratched) oversize sunglasses and a beaded eyeglass chain for me, and little kid Tevas for B. I use my dad’s Amaz*n to buy the glasses and chain for me ($20) and three pairs of Tevas for B to try on. They’ll only charge us for the ones we keep, which will be $21.
L and I spend the evening drinking the Morphos he bought earlier this week and hanging out with J and her boyfriend. We turn on the AC for the first time which reminds us that we need to get an HVAC repairperson out here to check out some weird details of the old AC system our inspector caught. I mentally add it to my to-dos for the week.
We get B in bed late again – around 9 – and we watch Schitt’s Creek til almost 11. We will never tire of re-watching this show.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $185.10
✨ DAY 5: SATURDAY✨
6:45 am: I wake up breathing easy today! Blessings, prednisone; blessings, springtime.
8:00 am: L and I make eggie toasts with heirloom tomatoes, and L reveals that he had a long-awaited budget chat with the medical hospital where he’s been getting dental work done. They’re estimating we’ll need to spend an additional $11k this year to get L’s teeth in order. This kicks off a Big Conversation, during which we realize we absolutely need to be spending less than $8k monthly in order to cash flow his teeth, cash flow our must-do house projects, and pay down our cards by end of year. This should be doable, in theory, but will be a big adjustment as for months we’ve been splashing out on everything from gifts to travel to furniture to tools to fabric to support my baby-clothes-making hobby. As the conversation drags on, tension rises, and we’re both mad at each other but not sure why.
After a few breaths, I realize: we are just launching big numbers back and forth across the room, completely unmoored! I offer to make us a big fancy draft annual budget with monthly projections and schedule a date night to review. HOW FUN! L obliges after I convince him that I actually, truly, want to do this, and I find a very nice budget template on Etsy. ($20)
10 am: I run down a hill and across a parking lot to yoga, and slip in some vom along the way. Meanwhile, L and B head to the gym together.
12 pm: I take our e-bike (the one we’ve been riding around all week) to the shop and tell the bike guy that the lights and the breaks are in rough shape. He tells me they’ll fix it up, but that we should consider replacing it with a Yuba Spicy Curry which is $5200. I think not, but in my heart, I do really want to sell this one and buy a RadWagon or a Blix Packa Genie. Ebike moms and dolls, send thoughts.
When I get home, L heads to Aldi and spends $125 on berries, lots of bananas, eggs, rice, oat milk, oatmeal, snacks for B, frozen berries, fresh broccoli, yogurt, and a bunch of other stuff including Aldi swag that he is very stoked about: a matching pullover, socks, and tumbler. He then goes to Ace Hardware and buys s’mores sticks for use with our fire pit and some light bulbs ($37). B takes a nap and I plant the berry bushes and cherry tree while he snoozes!
6 pm: We head out to dinner to celebrate the big move with L’s sister and her boyfriend. It’s a long walk to our favorite taco place, but a beautiful day. B rides his pink scooter and is very cute, but reader, he is a spirited child and today he is having A Day. We field multiple meltdowns and lots of not-listening on the way to the restaurant. Dinner itself is delicious, though, and we watch the sun set over the water as we eat. It’s $58 with tip for the three of us, including a coconut margarita for L and a watermelon sangria for me.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $240
✨ DAY 6: SUNDAY✨
5 am: Up and thinking about parenting. L and I had a long conversation after B fell asleep about what we could do differently to help him manage his emotions. He’s a big child in size and in personality – at 3 he’s wearing size 6 clothes and talking as much as any child that age too. He has big joy, big wonder, big imagination, and also big anger and big sadnesses. We’ve tried to follow Janet Lansbury’s teaching since B was born, but at times gentle parenting, which Janet teaches, has seemed too lax for B. I decide to return to her work anyway. I read the transcript to her newest podcast episode, and wonder if maybe we’re overengaging with B’s big feelings. Then I read this one about another child struggling with aggression, and am glad that B is at least not spitting, I guess?
10 am: B’s morning is going great after all, and we decide to pack a lunch and head out for a hike. B makes himself a ham, cheese, and hummus sandwich, and I make L and I veggie sandwiches with pesto. We happen upon a plant sale on the way home and L approves a “Fuzzy Mystery” peperomia for our bathroom. ($8) Afterwards we drop off my Nuuly at UPS (prepaid!) and head home to watch a movie while it rains. I do work things and start our new annual budget spreadsheet during the movie.
5 pm: J takes a walk with us and M the dog to a playground nearby, and while we’re out, our neighbor texts to suggest once-a-week family dinners on Tuesday (yes please!). For dinner tonight, I make Smitten Kitchen’s tomato sauce with onion and butter using the heirloom tomatoes from our CSA and it’s very good as always. L and I drink some Pinot with dinner, and B eats his spaghetti with his hands.
9 pm: My anxiety (her name is Esther) visits while I’m putting B to sleep, so after he’s down, I decide to get to the bottom of a few things via Google. As usual, this is a bad idea! I walk to bed crying and lay on L’s chest. I cry a lot more, including about the trailer for You Hurt My Feelings which I saw three days ago, and about how scary it would be if L were to die, and about how L’s parents’ best friends’ lives have never been visited by tragedy and is that possible for us too?
Therapy is on Tuesday, everyone! We will make it.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $8
✨ DAY 7: MONDAY✨
6:30 am: I wake up later than I wanted to after a fitful night. B was coughing a lot (post-nasal drip, ick), and I was thinking a lot. I have back-to-back calls today with lots of prep beforehand so I get dressed quick and grab a pre-made smoothie from the freezer for breakfast. B and L leave at 7:15; I light my Gardener candle and tuck in to work.
1:00 pm: Lunch is fried rice with a chonk of a Trader Joe’s milk chocolate hazelnut bar, yum. I eat on a call but politely turn off my camera.
4:00 pm: B and L are home and I’m still wrapping up. On the way home, they picked up some natural honey cough syrup stuff for B ($12).
6:00 pm: L and I drop B off at the Y childcare, and find out they are hosting a spring break camp for 3-5 year olds. L wants to build B’s long-awaited tree house over the break, so we sign B up for four days of camp. Very cute! And also less than half the price of other camps in the area. ($100)
6:15 pm: I check the NYT as I start up the elliptical and am sent reeling by news of the school shooting in Nashville. I try to distract myself with The Crown. Unfortunately, Princess Di is really going through it, so the distraction is a bust. I turn on Sarah Blondin’s Learning to Surrender meditation instead, and listen to it twice. I’m trying desperately to trust the universe but the hellscapeness of it all makes that difficult sometimes.
Life marches on anyhow: After our workout, we head to Trader Joe’s to buy the items Aldi didn’t offer over the weekend (fancy bag salad, plantain chips, challah, frozen greens, a Galia melon, a few other things), plus a lot more broccoli because we need it for the tofu and veggies we’re making with the neighbors tomorrow. I love this peanut butter tofu recipe, in case you’re looking for one. ($31)
8 pm: We three look at videos of baby B over dinner, and L says maybe he is ready for a second. I think I am too.
adrienne maree brown posted today,
put your attention on suffering – which is constant and everywhere – and it is all you will see. joy will come, and laughter, but you will find it brief, possibly a distraction.
put your attention on joy, being connected and feeling whole, and you will find it everywhere. your heart will still break. you will know grief. but you will find it a reasonable cost for the random abundance of miracles, and the soft wild rhythms of love.
return to love as many times as you can.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: $143
❤️ Section 5: TOTALS
Total Expenses: $1228.85
Food & Drink: $376
Fun & Entertainment: $130.85
Home & Health: $557
Clothes & Beauty: $101
Transport: $64
❤️ Section 6: REFLECTION
This week was spendy for us between the plants and the skincare routine – but I’d say we usually have at least one week a month where we spend like this. I know that needs to shift if we’re going to pay for all the things we need to pay for this year without drawing from our life savings. I’m also aware that N’s student loan payments will likely resume, and that having a second baby isn’t cheap – so I’m excited to finish our budget spreadsheet and treat it like a goal rather than a suggestion (I currently track our spending obsessively in Mint but treat the budget limits like unsolicited advice).
I do like everything we spent money on this week, though, and feel very lucky to be able to cover so many wants and needs in a given week. Thanks for reading!

Themes
Romance, drama, slow-burn, real issues with real people, maybe enemies to lovers or maybe they can both have issues and their mental health can be all the conflict we need to keep it interesting. xD
What am I looking for in a co-author? 1. Be chill, have fun. 2. Post when you can, at a length that makes sense (or a length you like). 3. Care about writing. Enjoy the process. Recognize it’s for fun, not to compensate for some other issue. 4. If you aren’t feeling it, speak up. We can adjust or part ways with no hard feelings.
Setting
It’s the current era, New York City. Magic exists, like the arts and science exist, and like any other creative process, some have more talent or have practiced and learned more than others.
There had always been envy and resentment for the Gifted, as they were occasionally called, but casters of any school of magic usually had their own communities since a certain lifestyle developed around certain school. For all the rest of humanity, enchanted items were available--often at ghastly prices--though cheaper, disposable pieces looking like cheap jewelry or furniture or whatever else were made, either limited in charges or effect. And like anything else, it all ended up needing repair, or needing to be sold for a quick buck. Which is how arcane shops became a thing.
A (long) intro to this world and my character and his damage/plot hook is below. You will never, ever be expected to post this much at once. It can be a paragraph or two.
Ideas for your character? A healer, an illusionist, a normal nurse, a teacher, a good student who just feels like helping someone—basically, a positive influence and whatever that may look like. I’m wide open suggestions or brainstorming with you. Same for the setting for that matter, just let me know if you’re interested!
-L
"Arcane Pawn & Repair;" so read the sign of tarnished brass and emerald marble that should have been scrubbed two seasons ago. This grand placard was completely at odds with the simple structure of dark wood that made up the place. The windows that began at chest height were old and interlaced with ornate metal framing, like stained glass without the color, offering an obscured view into a cluttered place where light was admitted, and voyeurs denied.
Upon entry, two stories of anything and everything one might find in a second-hand store loomed large, with sunlight holding its breath and turning sideways to push past. Worn and loved instruments, flashy ballgowns, brightly painted toys, ancient rugs, massive tomes, weapons, tools, nightstands and stain glass lamps to name but a few.
A mixture of scents—old lacquer, coffee, and anise cigarettes—competed for nasal dominance. Gentle music played: a woman singing an old French song while a pianist waltzed beside her, each note the footfall of his fingertips.
From a small room behind the counter, Lysias sang along with some slight skill, turning an old violin over in his hands. The sunlight that filtered in caught on the pits and chips of worn lacquer like it were being graded by one of his old professors, highlighting the imperfections with supposed warmth that dimmed the excellence of the work, nevertheless. It was a fine violin, too: one of the few brought in that was actually worth working on.
The varnish would need to be stripped before he could do anything, of course, like rehydrating the wood or sealing it—a tedious process by anyone’s standard but his, for ruination rested within his every breath, just waiting to be sighed out, that another thing of beauty would be wrecked before his downcast eyes.
The cuss walked with him. Lived with him. Breathed with him.
Ate at him. Stole from him. Marginalized. Vilified. Consoled. Condemned.
It eased his sorrows and diminished his joys, adding and subtracting the human experience until the sum of his life was zero; no highs, no lows, just a meaningless medium. The cuss was parasite and partner both. He almost hated it when he had the energy to hate something.
Lysias raised a finger, a mote of darkness erasing a spot in the air above it. As small as it was, he could hear the music bending, the sounds of the busy street outside distorted by its presence, like there was water in his ear. The lacquer of the violin was gone in a blink, and the cuss was put away again, as much as some distant, broken part of him wanted to watch as it ran loose in the streets.
Those visions always came. He knew what it wanted. But fuck what it wanted. It had more than enough of him as it was.
Turning for the sanding block, he saw the ad for New York Healing Institute he pulled from his mailbox. A few stand-out words were read over his scarlet-lensed glasses. “It’s never too late to learn!” He had thoughts about that but ignored them. “NYHI has new scholarships and grants for the aspiring healer! Find us on the web at—“
It was ridiculous.
Besides, no one would have a self-taught, null-aspected mage anyway. Just being around other casters as they spoke or chanted or sang or drew or painted their magic was enough to unravel it sometimes, and that was without trying. If a caster actually came at him, it wasn’t even a fight; he didn’t have to say a word to cuss out their pretty sparks and flames, turning their power and years of study into less than a fizzled out bottle rocket.
As long as they were within a few feet of him.
And they weren’t a mind mage.
Or an illusionist.
…Fine maybe a few others, but generally, he could take care of himself.
Grabbing the sanding block, the long, thin scar that ran from his wrist his elbow flashed silver in the sunlight, right between the fingertips of the deep red tattoo. It looked like a large hand clutched his wrist and held it together.
Just like a hand did, once.
Twice, if you count the other wrist.
Yeah Lysias, you can take care of yourself alright.
It was an eternal reminder of where the cuss would lead if he let it. Green eyes flicked again to the article, to the propaganda and its ludicrous optimism.
It was ridiculous.
But still.
Still, he wondered if there were pretty sparks that could restore what the dark had devoured.
Lysias was wallowing of a fine state of self-pity when the door jingled. Yet another customer here to rudely interrupt his pity party. He was just about list every girl that had ever shot him down, too.
With a sigh, he pushed up his glasses and stepped out from the back in a metal band tee, some torn black jeans and his $1,200 black caiman cowboy boots with matching belt and a giant, tarnished sterling buckle with a big “L” in 18k gold.
He saw them from the corner of his eye, and instead focused on straightening the bracelets in the display case, both magical and mundane. “Weeeeelcome to Arcane Pawn & Repair,” he drawled, monotone, “where we REPair, REstore, and REgret every decision that brought us here. What do you want?”

Themes
Romance, drama, slow-burn, real issues with real people, maybe enemies to lovers or maybe they can both have issues and their mental health can be all the conflict we need to keep it interesting. xD
What am I looking for in a co-author? 1. Be chill, have fun. 2. Post when you can, at a length that makes sense (or a length you like). 3. Care about writing. Enjoy the process. Recognize it’s for fun, not to compensate for some other issue. 4. If you aren’t feeling it, speak up. We can adjust or part ways with no hard feelings.
Setting
It’s the current era, New York City. Magic exists, like the arts and science exist, and like any other creative process, some have more talent or have practiced and learned more than others.
There had always been envy and resentment for the Gifted, as they were occasionally called, but casters of any school of magic usually had their own communities since a certain lifestyle developed around certain school. For all the rest of humanity, enchanted items were available--often at ghastly prices--though cheaper, disposable pieces looking like cheap jewelry or furniture or whatever else were made, either limited in charges or effect. And like anything else, it all ended up needing repair, or needing to be sold for a quick buck. Which is how arcane shops became a thing.
A (long) intro to this world and my character and his damage/plot hook is below. You will never, ever be expected to post this much at once. It can be a paragraph or two.
Ideas for your character? A healer, an illusionist, a normal nurse, a teacher, a good student who just feels like helping someone—basically, a positive influence and whatever that may look like. I’m wide open suggestions or brainstorming with you. Same for the setting for that matter, just let me know if you’re interested!
-L
"Arcane Pawn & Repair;" so read the sign of tarnished brass and emerald marble that should have been scrubbed two seasons ago. This grand placard was completely at odds with the simple structure of dark wood that made up the place. The windows that began at chest height were old and interlaced with ornate metal framing, like stained glass without the color, offering an obscured view into a cluttered place where light was admitted, and voyeurs denied.
Upon entry, two stories of anything and everything one might find in a second-hand store loomed large, with sunlight holding its breath and turning sideways to push past. Worn and loved instruments, flashy ballgowns, brightly painted toys, ancient rugs, massive tomes, weapons, tools, nightstands and stain glass lamps to name but a few.
A mixture of scents—old lacquer, coffee, and anise cigarettes—competed for nasal dominance. Gentle music played: a woman singing an old French song while a pianist waltzed beside her, each note the footfall of his fingertips.
From a small room behind the counter, Lysias sang along with some slight skill, turning an old violin over in his hands. The sunlight that filtered in caught on the pits and chips of worn lacquer like it were being graded by one of his old professors, highlighting the imperfections with supposed warmth that dimmed the excellence of the work, nevertheless. It was a fine violin, too: one of the few brought in that was actually worth working on.
The varnish would need to be stripped before he could do anything, of course, like rehydrating the wood or sealing it—a tedious process by anyone’s standard but his, for ruination rested within his every breath, just waiting to be sighed out, that another thing of beauty would be wrecked before his downcast eyes.
The cuss walked with him. Lived with him. Breathed with him.
Ate at him. Stole from him. Marginalized. Vilified. Consoled. Condemned.
It eased his sorrows and diminished his joys, adding and subtracting the human experience until the sum of his life was zero; no highs, no lows, just a meaningless medium. The cuss was parasite and partner both. He almost hated it when he had the energy to hate something.
Lysias raised a finger, a mote of darkness erasing a spot in the air above it. As small as it was, he could hear the music bending, the sounds of the busy street outside distorted by its presence, like there was water in his ear. The lacquer of the violin was gone in a blink, and the cuss was put away again, as much as some distant, broken part of him wanted to watch as it ran loose in the streets.
Those visions always came. He knew what it wanted. But fuck what it wanted. It had more than enough of him as it was.
Turning for the sanding block, he saw the ad for New York Healing Institute he pulled from his mailbox. A few stand-out words were read over his scarlet-lensed glasses. “It’s never too late to learn!” He had thoughts about that but ignored them. “NYHI has new scholarships and grants for the aspiring healer! Find us on the web at—“
It was ridiculous.
Besides, no one would have a self-taught, null-aspected mage anyway. Just being around other casters as they spoke or chanted or sang or drew or painted their magic was enough to unravel it sometimes, and that was without trying. If a caster actually came at him, it wasn’t even a fight; he didn’t have to say a word to cuss out their pretty sparks and flames, turning their power and years of study into less than a fizzled out bottle rocket.
As long as they were within a few feet of him.
And they weren’t a mind mage.
Or an illusionist.
…Fine maybe a few others, but generally, he could take care of himself.
Grabbing the sanding block, the long, thin scar that ran from his wrist his elbow flashed silver in the sunlight, right between the fingertips of the deep red tattoo. It looked like a large hand clutched his wrist and held it together.
Just like a hand did, once.
Twice, if you count the other wrist.
Yeah Lysias, you can take care of yourself alright.
It was an eternal reminder of where the cuss would lead if he let it. Green eyes flicked again to the article, to the propaganda and its ludicrous optimism.
It was ridiculous.
But still.
Still, he wondered if there were pretty sparks that could restore what the dark had devoured.
Lysias was wallowing of a fine state of self-pity when the door jingled. Yet another customer here to rudely interrupt his pity party. He was just about list every girl that had ever shot him down, too.
With a sigh, he pushed up his glasses and stepped out from the back in a metal band tee, some torn black jeans and his $1,200 black caiman cowboy boots with matching belt and a giant, tarnished sterling buckle with a big “L” in 18k gold.
He saw them from the corner of his eye, and instead focused on straightening the bracelets in the display case, both magical and mundane. “Weeeeelcome to Arcane Pawn & Repair,” he drawled, monotone, “where we REPair, REstore, and REgret every decision that brought us here. What do you want?”

Detective Washington knocks on the door. A lead that started off as a call from the tip line (Normally he wouldnt take a lead this time of night but this one sounded convincing.) lead him to a halfway house on the south side of Chicago. As he waits for a response he leans over and peers into the dusty window. No lights. No noise. The moonlight reflecting off of scattered medical needles on the floor is all he can make out He knocks again. This time he hears faint footsteps. He peers in again expecting to see the owner of the footsteps but sees nothing. The light bulb above the door he is standing at flickers wildly. The footsteps are on the other side of the door now. The light bulb above him goes out then..
silence.
The rookie detective is startled as he catches a quick movement out of the corner of his eye, the neighbor quickly closing the shades they must’ve been watching from. He regains his composure, fixes his tie and states to whoever is on the other side of the door “This is Detective Washington. I’m here to ask whoever lives here some questions.”
Silence.
An owl hoots as a cool breeze sneaks by causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand erect. He goes to knock again but this time the door slowly opens a few inches. “Hello?” He asks.
“What do you want?” A small childlike voice says from the other side of the door.
“I am Detective Washington. I am covering a case and have some questions for the residents of this house.”
“Im the only one here.” The small voice whispers.
“May I speak with you? I think some residents of this house may have seen something regarding the case I am working on. It’s pertinent I ask you these questions, it could really help me bring a little girl home to her family.”
“Sure. I’ll help. But you can’t be scared.”
“I won’t be scared ma’am. Please, open up so we can sit and talk.”
The door begins to open. As it does the detective sees a girl standing there. At first all he notices is her bare feet and how dirty they are. But as he fully takes in the scene he becomes truly aware of what he is seeing: A small girl about 4 feet tall not much older than 8 years old. Her skin-blue. Her bare feet are clotted with dry dirt, each of her big toes are missing, white bone visible at each knuckle. Her knees and legs are scratched and bruised. She is wearing dark blue shorts and a white “Sea World” shirt that is obviously too large for her. Around Her neck is a rope patterned bruise. Her hair dirty blonde matted with leaves, twigs and what appears to be more dirt. She’s looking at him, well she would be if she had eyes. Empty sockets filled with maggots wriggling where her blue eyes should be. He knows she had blue eyes because despite her bloated and horrifying appearance this is one of the young girls who has gone missing in this neighborhood. Her name is Hannah and he knows this immediately because he has spent hundreds of hours over the past two months handing out flyers with her face on it and pouring over his three inch stack of papers all related to this missing girl.
He lets out a gasp but does is best not to startle the little girl. Hannah looks at his gun holstered on his hip, maggots squirm and fall onto her tiny toes. “Are you a cop?” She asks. “Y..yeah. Well, no I’m a detective.” “Did you come here to help me?” Trying his best to maintain his composure he answers, “Yeah I’m here to help. Can I help you Hannah?” “How do you know my name?” She asks. Her teeth a tint green from what he assumes is moss. “Everyone’s looking for you Hannah. Your mom is worried. Your dad too. Your little brother is very sad his big sister is missing.” “Oh no. I’m sorry. I got lost. And then I got hurt. I was scared very scared. It hurt so bad.” She begins to whimper. “Do you know what happened to you Hannah?” “A man..a man hurt me. Bad.” “Do you know who this man was?” “No.” She hesitates. “Am I dead?” Detective Washington thinks the worst has already happened so he decides to be blunt: “Yeah I think you are.” Surprisingly Hannah stops whimpering. “Does that mean I’m a ghost? And you can see me? Mommy said ghosts weren’t real though..” she looks away and rubs her elbow. “I can see you and I do believe in ghosts,” he assures her. She nods. “And I feel real too. So if I’m a ghost that means…my body is somewhere else?” He nods. She looks at her feet. “Will you help me find it?” Detective Washington smiles, a tear rolls down his face and says “I will. But after that will you help me find who did this to you?” “Of course.” She smiles.
He reaches out his hand and she grabs it. It feels cold and slimy. Hes able to restrain himself from shivering. They leave the abandoned house hand in hand.
From across the street the neighbor peeks out her window. She sees a tall man walking hand in hand with a little girl. They get into the man’s car and drive off into the night.

Polly and Max were twins. Fraternal twins. Ever since birth they’ve been inseparable: learning and teaching each other as they grew. Polly learned how to tie her shoes first while Max learned how to ride his bike without training wheels first. Max spent days teaching Polly how to ride a bicycle like him and Polly taught Max how to tie his shoes (which admittedly he learned very quickly). They never left each other behind, always together.
One Sunday shortly after their 7th birthday, their parents slept through their alarm (Polly and Max didn’t mind missing church-it was boring!) and the two Duncan children were left to their own devices. See, the two siblings were taught one rule—not to leave the house without their parents—which they very obediently followed! But this didn’t stop them from exploring the huge mansion they recently moved in to!
The Duncan’s had just inherited a large estate from their Great-great aunt Sylvia (whom they’ve never met but assumed she had lots of cats because there was a lot of cat hair in the house!) They had been living in the gated hundred year old, ten bedroom, 5 bathroom house—no, mansion!—for about a month now. But something was weird about the mansion Polly would tell you. Polly would sometimes go upstairs to her bedroom waaaaay up on the 4th floor to find that the door was gone. She would run all the way downstairs to tell her parents who would then follow her back to her bedroom to find the door was there! Polly swore up and down the door was gone. Mr.Duncan would simply tell her “no more sugar before bed” and that would be that. But Max believed her. He had never witnessed this phenomenon himself but it was Polly were talking about, she never lied! Well..once she did but that was to get himself out of trouble. He loved her for that.
On this particular day with their parents suffering from what they called a “HangLoaver” Polly and Max explored. And explored they did. They decided the first place they’d check out is the attic.
Max knew right where the attic was and grabbed his sisters hand and lead her to the 5th floor. Polly had never been to the attic because she was afraid of spiders and the 5th floor had alot of them. Max claimed to have seen a bat once but Polly’s pretty sure he was just trying to scare her.
As they walked their way up 20 steps of the spiral staircase to the 5th floor—skipping the 3rd, 5th and 18th step—max knew which steps creaked—they came to the narrow hallway with only one door at the top of the staircase. A dark brown, moist to the touch door stood right in front of the very top step.
Max joked for his sister to look down but she didn’t. Max tore a piece of rotting wood from the attic door and tossed it over the railing of the hallway. 1..2..3..4..5 seconds they counted before they heard a soft TCK echo through the house. ‘It would take me 5 seconds to fall down’ Polly thought. This thought made her tummy a little Upset. But not too upset before Max whispered a sound that a child only says when amazed by something they haven’t seen before.
“Woah”
Max let go of the door handle To the attic he has been in countless times and points to the light green door at the end of the hallway. “That door wasn’t here yesterday” he told Polly.
“What do you mean it wasn’t here yesterday?”
“Every day I come up here there is only one door. The attic door. That’s a new door.” Max says his eyes wide.
“You mean like How my bedroom door sometimes goes away this door sometimes shows up?”
“Maybe.” Max said. He starts slowly walking towards the door.
“I don’t think we should go in there” Polly said.
“You’re not afraid are you?”
“No. I’m not. I just don’t want to get in trouble.”
“We won’t. I promise.”
Not needing much convincing because Polly too was very intrigued by this new door, she begins to walk with max towards the door.
As they are standing outside the green door max reaches for the door handle. “No. Let me do it. You always get to be the first one to do new things”
“Yeah except tying my shoes” he smartly remarked.
“Yeah but that’s not exciting. This green door is!”
“Okay okay, you can go first.”
Polly reaches forward and grabs the door handle. It’s warm to the touch she thinks. She twists.
It’s locked.
“It’s locked.” She says.
“Locked ? Well that’s no fun. Let me try.”
Max twists the door handle.
Locked.
“Well darn it” he says and hits his palm to his forehead.
“Hello whos there?” Said a voice.
Polly let out a small SQUEAK as she jumped with fright. Max jumped but said nothing.
They remained quiet.
“Hello? I know somebody is there.” Said a deep yet friendly voice.
“It’s me Polly and my brother Max.”
“Polly and Max you say?” The voice sounded inquisitive. “Polly and Max DUNCAN perhaps. Hmm?”
“Y..yeah that’s us” Max said now stepping in front of His sister doing his best to show no fear.
“We’ve been waiting for You two. Come On in.”
The door opened slightly. Creaking loudly.
Max looked at polly who had taken a step back after the voice somehow knew their last names. He reaches out his hand. “Come On polly!”
Polly grabs maxs hand and max pulls the door wide open. A bright light blinds them as the twins cover their eyes. Once their eyes adjust they smile in awe. Their mouths drop open and all colors of the rainbow reflect in their eyes. They stand there for what feels like eternity taking in the beauty of what they were seeing.
“Welcome polly and Max Duncan. We are in desperate need of your help.” The voice said.
“Yeah! Thank you for finally coming! We’ve been waiting for hundreds of years!” A now squeaky voice speaks up coming from their feet.
Polly and max look at each other and nod. They step through the door.
The door snaps shut.
On the 2nd floor Mr. and Mrs. Duncan stir in their sleep but do not wake.

All I gotta say is, I love Kengan and mainly Kuroki for getting me into Karate.
I entered my first tournament, a Men’s opens category for Sub 67KG as a Purple Belt. Ended up beating 2 blues, 1 green and 1 black. Ironically looking at the points awarded, most of them was from a right roundhouse body kick.
Currently have two broken toes but gotta say worth.
I’m DPR am still green though, black and beyond is far away. ☝️🗿

Hi all, I know this is not DIY exactly but we’ve attempted several of these jobs ourselves and are getting nowhere. I’m not sure what other group would be suitable. We’d just like to ask if the online quote websites are decent/reliable and if so which one you’d recommend? In the U.K.
Do people over charge even more on these quote pages? Do they stick to their word and get the job done?
Seems to be a few like Mybuilder, Myjobquote.
Many thanks for your time and help :)

I need help with sizing for the tube dresses. I’m pretty tall (178 cm or 5’10) I’m usually a size small in most of djerfs items, but when I got the tube dresses in a size small I found them to be so short.
Did anybody else have the same problem? I know I’m quite tall, but I have several skirts from djerf where they are not to short at all.
I also found that the dresses shrinks in wash - even though they were washed at 30 degrees and hung to dry. It’s like they got several cm shorter after I washed them. I wrote to costumer service and asked what to do - and they just said if I ironed them with steam - they would get a little longer. Did not really help tho..
Question: should I try and purchase the medium - or should I just give up on them? 😭 I really love the dresses, but it’s also uncomfortable wearing something that is super super short.
Would love your input!! 🤍🤍

I was just at a waterfall that’s in a very non-touristy Provence of Thailand and I was the only white person there, and when I was enjoying a splash in the waterfall, I had about 5 different groups of people come up to me and ask to take photos of me/ with me (they asked in Thai which I didn’t understand then just proceeded to do it). I don’t mind at all, and they were all very friendly, it was just a bit surreal. For reference I’m 21, white British with green eyes, very pale skin and I’m a rugby player so I’m in decent shape, but I’ve never had anything like this anywhere else in the world until today (my 1st day in Thailand).
I’m curious if there’s a specific cultural reason for this?