Damn. The island my dad is from–Leyte–totally got smashed by Haiyan/Yolanda. Communication is totally cutoff and he has no idea if the house he grew up in is still standing, or even if his sisters are alive.
The real reason why old-school cartoons didn't worry about kids copying dangerous activities they portrayed is simply because we didn't know where to buy dynamite. Now you can just order it on the Internet without adult supervision. It's a wonder that more kids don't blow themselves up these days.
Daisy is soooo tired. Like you don't even understand how tired she is. But we wont go upstairs, which means she can't go upstairs. We might leave. We never have before, but we could silently sneak out while she sleeps. And we aren't allowed to leave.
I hate my #NaNoWriMo so far. I hate my flat MC, I hate all her relationships, I hate how boring the whole thing is, and I hate that I don't know how to move events along plausibly. The only thing I don't hate is the name of her cat, Killian.
Given that Adalind has spent most of her life as a Hexenbiest, I'm continually surprised by how grossed out she is by the things she's having to do as part of getting her Hexenbiest essence back. Given that Hexenbiests look like rotting flesh in the first place, I have no idea why she's grossing out so easily.