#i have a terminal condition called ‘not being able to say no’

[thanksgiving-isnt-ur-fav-holiday]

how do i tell this man that the only man i am remotely attracted to is david john tennant

[bullet-prooflove]

Listen: Dean Archer x Reader (feat: Sean Archer)

Tagging: @kmc1989@helsinkibaby@hufflepuffgirl@mimi-8793

When Dean sees his son Sean for the first time in fifteen years, he’s dressed in a beige prison XL prison uniform and there’s a pane of glass between the two of them with fingerprints streaked across the surface.

Surely he thinks, they should be able to do better especially after COVID. They could at least wipe the damn thing down or something. His hands are shaking when he picks up the phone but he masks it by gripping the receiver so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Sean called him from Cook County, that’s how long it’s taken him to get visitation. He hadn’t realised it was such a process. In the meantime he’s been in contact with Sean’s lawyer, an over encumbered public defender in an attempt to understand the charges against him. The woman had barely even remembered his name.

He tries to explain the detriment of this to Sean as he sits across from him but it starts a fight. All hell breaks loose between the two of them because Dean, he’s never really understood Sean, not since he hit fourteen and came home from Sea Cadets that summer a withdrawn, sullen teenager. It’s six moths later when his grades started to drop that they found the weed and the pills.

Sean ends up hanging up the phone and terminating the visit and Dean is left with this weird feeling of purgatory because he’s back where he was fifteen years ago, with a son that doesn’t want to talk to him.

“I don’t know how to get through to him.” Dean tells you later that night when you’re cooking dinner together. He’s tired, overwhelmed, exasperated. He wants to fix this, truly he does, he just doesn’t know how to. “I don’t know why there’s such a disconnect.”

“Have you tried listening to him?” You ask as you chop peppers on the cutting board for the salad. “I mean actually sitting down and hearing what he has to say.”

“Of course…” He replies with an edge of annoyance and you give him that look, the one that tells him he’s being an ass. He falls silent after that, mulling it over in his head as he cooks steak on the stove.

Dean has always parented the way his father parented him. His father was an admiral, he had a strict military upbringing, bouncing around from base to base, never sticking around long enough to make too many friends. It’s the reason he’s found it hard to make connections in the past, if you build a barrier between you and the rest of the world it’s less likely you’ll get hurt when it’s time to move on. He carried that into his first marriage and into every job he’s ever worked.

His father had always insisted on things being tidy, ordered and Dean he’s lived with that mantra his entire life. He thinks that’s why he was so hard on Sean, he’s used to a chain of command, a hierarchy. He was the parent and Sean was the kid. It should have been as simple as that but the truth is people are messy. It’s only through his therapy sessions with Daniel that he’s realising how much his father’s version of parenting affected him. He was always distant, emotionally cold. When he was present it was about earning his time, not enjoying it. He wonders if he brought that to the table with Sean, if he taught him that love was conditional, dependant on good behaviour.

“I think you’re right.” He tells you when the two of you settle into bed that night. You’re curled up against his side, your head resting through on his chest as his fingers comb through your hair. “Maybe I haven’t been listening.”

He’s lucky that Sean agrees to see him the second time, he could refuse, he could take him off the visitor’s list but he doesn’t. Dean thinks that means there’s hope for the two of them, that he’s committed to mending fences, after all it was Sean that reached out, Sean that called Dean wanting nothing more than to talk to his dad.

“My wife…” Dean as he sits down across from his son. “She says I’ve got a tendency to override everything but the sound of my own voice and she’s right. I just… if there’s anything you want to say to me after all this time I’ll try my best to listen.”

“You got remarried?” Sean says finally, his elbow resting on the ledge as he leans forward. “I thought the way things ended with you and mom would have put you off.”

Dean doesn’t look back on that time fondly, they’d tried to shield Sean away from the majority of it but there were nights when Leanne’s addiction was out of control and his patience had stretched to breaking point. He’s not proud of the way he handled things back then, his first marriage left him mistrustful and with a sense of worthlessness, that he still feels to this very day.

“It did.” Dean admits as he cups the phone under his chin. “I was alone for a long time before I met Isobel…”

He trails off then because he’s not sure if this is the kind of thing that Sean wants to hear. The life he has now is so different from the one he had before. He’s happy these days, relaxed. He understands that things aren’t so black and white, they don’t fit neatly into little boxes the way that he was taught they should.

It occurs to him that Sean doesn’t know this version of him. Dean preached a lot of tough love back then and not a whole lot of empathy, he had been taught addiction and mental health were character flaws, a sign of weakness. He knows different these days, from his own experiences, from yours. He’s not the same person he was fifteen years ago, he’s much more free with heart, more understanding, more compassionate. He hopes he can show Sean that in the future, that he’s changed, that he’s willing to rebuild this relationship.

“Does she know about me?” Sean asks him quietly, his voice a little rough. “Your wife Isobel? Did you tell her about me?”

There’s a slight pinkness in his cheeks and his gaze slips down the chipped table, his thumb running over a deep indentation. It takes Dean a second to realise what he’s seeing in his son and it feels like a knife plunging straight into his chest.

Shame.

Sean thinks that Dean’s ashamed of him. That he’s hidden his son away like he’s some horrible secret. He’s never wanted to reach out so badly before, he wishes the glass wasn’t there, that he could touch Sean, hug him but he can’t no matter how much he wants to.

“She does.” He tells his son, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “She wants to meet you when you’re ready.”

“We should probably wait until I’m out.” Sean says gesturing at their surroundings. “I don’t think prison’s the best place to meet my dad’s new wife. I’d prefer to put my best foot forward and all that.”

“She’s an M.E.” Dean laughs as he looks around the room. “She’s worked out of far worse surroundings than this.”

Sean smiles then and something in Dean’s chest just lifts.

“It’s not your fault you know?” Sean says suddenly, surprising Dean. “That I’m fucked up. I know you blame yourself but it was nothing you did or didn’t do. I just… I need you to know that.”

There’s an ache in Dean’s chest, it feels so visceral, like someone’s reached in and torn his heart right out of his rib cage.

“Don’t do that.” Dean tells him, his voice breaking. “Don’t let me off the hook that easy. I messed up I know I did…”

“And so did I.” Sean tells him, his eyes burning with sincerity. “I just want you to know  that I’m trying to own the shit I did, to making amends for it.”

“Sean…” Dean begins but Sean shakes his head cutting him off.

“Dad.” Sean reminds him gently. “You promised to listen.”

“I did.” Dean concedes as he adjusts the handset under his chin. “Alright son, I’m listening.”

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[crows-home]

Do you sometimes wonder if Maria had oldest daughter síndrome ™ and what was going through her head while they were haunting down his little baby brother who she never was able to protect and knows how poorly he is treated by everyone else but her ?

hooooo boy ok. i have so many thoughts about Maria Robotnik anon. You're lucky i have free time right now to ramble.

THIS ENDED UP SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD SORRY LMAOOOO

Maria is somewhat of a blank slate, no? at least, she was in the beginning. Her main purpose was "tragic backstory." and there's something to be said about girls/women in media and their only roles being support for the male characters and their arcs. but those are big conversations that other people are more verbose in digging into. also i'm sleepy.

Maria, to me, has always been a blank slate. If not, she's always been the "perfect, proper, glass child." Poor Maria, so soft-spoken, so kind, but sick. She died sacrificing herself, don't you feel bad for her?

i don't think Maria has eldest daughter syndrome. It's something adjacent, though. It's a suppression of emotions, especially negative ones, that can be seen as eldest daughter syndrome. It's the expectations that have been put on her, by herself, to be kind, be courteous, be good.

Because Maria has a terminal illness, perhaps since she was born. The people in her life care about her so much, her grandfather takes her to space because it lessens her condition, there is a massive project going on to save her life!!

Maria doesn't get to be sad. She doesn't get to be angry. She can't show any of these emotions, can't scream and cry about how unfair all this is, can't speak out against people talking like they've already lost her when she's right fucking here. She can't be "difficult". Because her family has given so much to her, for her. They're so sad when they look at her, she can tell. So, I think, Maria puts this pressure on herself. To smile and be happy and positive, so as to not worry or bother anyone.

Children do that, when they perceive themselves to be a burden. It doesn't matter if they're explicitly told that or not. Maybe the adults in their life tell them "God, taking care of you is so expensive. Do you know how much better things would be if you weren't here?" Or maybe their family is loving, but at the end of the day, they see their parents struggling to pay bills, struggling to put food on the table, and wonder "Is it because of me? Am I weighing them down?"

So they become what I like to call "low-maintenance." Never taking more than is needed, because they're hyper aware of the resources they're taking. They make sure to stay happy and agreeable, because they don't want to cause trouble or bother anyone.

In my head, this is where Maria was at. She was happy, sure! No doubt, she loved her family and her grandfather and she loved Earth so much, so desperately did she want to be a part of it.

But she could never talk about the ugly bits. About her anger and frustration and even the depressing thoughts.

I think she started to with Shadow.

Here's her little brother, this little guy that was born from a test tube to be her cure, but has a soul all his own. Who she could talk to about these tough things.

"I sometimes wonder why I was created," Shadow might say.

And Maria, her soul aching, understands.

They come to their own conclusions, on the ARK, about who they are. Shadow is treated like an experiment, a pet, a thing, rarely ever with respect. By most, except for Maria. Maria looks at Shadow and sees family.

With Shadow, she can be moody. She can be snappy. Shadow can be silly and as unserious as he wants without constantly being under the proverbial magnifying glass. They are siblings, that's what they do!!! They don't have to put up this front like they do in front of other people. They don't have to be perfect when they're around each other.

"I feel guilty," Maria might say. Her voice might quiver and shake, like she's admitting something damning. "For existing, sometimes."

Shadow, absolutely floored by the admission that his sister is not always happiness and sunshine, understands.

I love headcanons and aus where Maria is allowed to be just a Weird Little Girl or really get into what she might have been into (goth, macabre, art, etc.) It gives her depth. It gives her life.

So I imagine all this, all the ways this young girl kept herself amicable and calm and pleasant, because she's so afraid of being anything but. Then I imagine all of it coming away when she's with her brother.

Then I imagine her running down the hall, grabbing his hand as the alarms blare. She is filled with love and hope for a world that she was never sure she would get to see. But by God, Shadow will see it. I imagine that there was always the possibility of death looming over her life, and the bullet just sealed it. I imagine the guilt that she feels when she pushes the button that sends him down. I imagine the fear and sadness she feels at the thought of him being alone, ultimately knowing there's nothing she can do. But hoping it was enough.

[ciaossu-imagines]

So for day 11 of the event, I used the letter ‘B’ from prompt 13 for Motojirou from Bungou Stray Dogs! I had a lot of fun writing for him, as he’s not someone I have a lot of experience writing for or even digging deep into and I hope that any fans of his will enjoy 😊

Being best friends with Kotojirou

So, let’s bring up the obvious. To truly be best friends with someone like Motojirou, you’d have to have somewhat loose morals. Motojirou is a man with little respect for humanity and human life, holding science above all else. To get along with other people, he needs to find them either interesting and intriguing or respect them and to truly connect with him, his best friend does have to at least hold some interest in science and be willing to accept and roll with the human sacrifices needed, in Motojirou’s mind, for that science.

I do think, for a friendship to really work for Motojirou, he wants a best friend who will challenge him while accepting him at the same time. He wants someone to question him, to be like ‘okay, this doesn’t make sense in my head. Either explain it to me or accept that you might be wrong this time’ because, as a scientist and someone who considers himself a lifelong learner, complacency is a fear of his and having someone to challenge him like that is absolutely necessary in his mind. However, he doesn’t want a ‘friend’ who will constantly be harping on him about how he chooses to live his life or how he chooses to conduct his experiments. He has enough voices calling him insane, unhinged, a villain, he doesn’t need any more and especially not from someone who claims to care about him.

I do headcanon pretty strongly that Motojirou is someone who is attracted, in all ways, to people who are terminally ill or even just deal with a chronic condition. He finds it intriguing and getting to spend his life, even just a part of it, with someone going through that, getting to see the progress of the illness or the impacts it has on his friend – that would really interest him and would make the person both friend and interesting subject to him philosophically, scientifically, and emotionally.

Motojirou is someone who is very intellectual in his own way. He enjoys thinking about and exploring some really deep subject matter and while he’ll be thrilled if his best friend is someone who also enjoys science, it’s not actually a necessity. What is a necessity in his best friend is that they’re someone who is also very intellectual. He wants to be able to talk about all the serious subjects and the heavy topics, both sociologically, scientifically, and philosophically and he needs a best friend who won’t be afraid to talk about, learn about, and discuss these various sensitive topics with him. Not only does he want them to talk about these subjects, but he wants them to have their own opinions and he’ll have a lot of fun, actually, if they make the topic into a sort of debate, with ideas and opinions that might challenge his own.

That’s not to say that being best friends with this man is all seriousness and science and mental stimulation, because it’s not. It will be a large part of it, but at the same time, he is only human, and he does want to just be silly or have fun with his friend at times.

Motojirou really does enjoy opera and he’ll want to get out with his friend to go watch performances whenever their schedules align. While he’ll expect silence during the performance, so that they can both get really into the opera being performed, he really has a lot of fun discussing what was good about the performance, what could have been improved, thoughts on the storyline, the songs, and all of that.

I do really see him loving science fiction stories as well, both reading them and watching media geared towards that kind of thing and I think on really chill days or nights, when there’s not a lot going on or Motojirou has exhausted most of his energy, he really does love just sitting down with his friend, some take-out, a big comfy couch, and binging a good sci-fi show together. He actually doesn’t demand silence during the show and it’s nothing for him and his best friend to keep a pretty steady stream of chatter throughout the show, both about normal topics that pop into their mind and about the show itself.

[halo-lll-odst]

can you tell us abt your ocs :]? any one of them maybe even multiple of them !! if you want

SCREAMS SOFUCKING LOUD OH MY GOD THANK YOU LOOKSS AT YOU WITH MY BIG AUTISTIC EYES ok well i have a handful, but the one i've been posting about most is spring/her universe!!! i should probably post about her more but thats a different subject lol spring is a character i made in 2019 i think? tbh, she used to be a throwaway character. sorta character you made when you were younger simply because you wanted to, but with me getting into ultrakill in recent months and rediscovering my love for robotic characters i decided to revamp her and rewrite aspects of her story basically, she was human at one point. she went through a procedure called a "transfer", because she was terminally ill. what a transfer entails is basically just turning a person into a computer. converting biological workings to those of a computer's. this grants the patient virtual immortality, but of course with limited technology, loss of many senses physically. the biggest problem is that spring did not give full consent to have this procedure done on her. in fact, she didn't even know it existed. the only reason it was done is because her widowed mother was a scientist working on researching and refining the technology, working at a facility a ways outside of the town they lived in to advance this. also before i go forwards i should say that the story takes place in the past actually. only by about 20 years, so early 2000's, i'm thinking 2001 specifically. though, when spring's transfer happens, it's 1988. since spring was terminally ill, she was in and out of the hospital a lot, getting check-ups, physical therapy, or otherwise. when her condition dipped, long hospital stays weren't out of the ordinary. in 1988, this same thing happened. she went into the hospital, expecting to be out in just a few days, maybe up to a week. this wasn't anything new to her. she had danced with death before and had basically accepted it. (btw in 1988 she's 19) but her condition quickly begins to decline, and she falls unconscious, having to be put on life support. her mother, in a panic and frankly having planned and prepared for this since she expected the worst, packs her up in the middle of the night, and heads to the facility in an ambulance, just with her and her daughter. there, the procedure is done. she couldn't bear to lose her daughter, what else could she have done besides just letting her slip away? i'm still working out the logistics of this story (despite how illogical it all is) so this part i'm still torn on? but for whatever reason, spring goes dormant. she won't respond to anyone or anything in this new state she finds herself in, and her mother panics. she thinks she killed her daughter. she failed, everything she worked for just reduced to nothing in an instant. a year or two goes by, and spring's mother, overcome with guilt and sadness, moves away from the state that she lived in with her daughter after her supposed death and subsequent funeral, and throws herself into her work harder than ever. she never wants anything like this to happen to anyone ever again, and wants to make sure others can live happily with their relatives for as long as they want to. she wants to be able to save those lives that are so kind, so pure. those who went before their time. needless to say, spring's mother is. fucked up later, in 2001, spring is still being housed in the facility she was originally transferred in. however, she is just being held as more of a case file than anything in a storage wing of the facility, or so everyone thinks. OK I'M GONNA NEED TO POST THIS IN PIECES BECAUSE TUMBLR IS BROKEN AND WON'T LET ME POST IT OTHERWISE LMFAO. ALSO I HIT THE TEXT LIMIT. ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING ALMOST A WEEK TO ANSWER

[wvbaandtheboys]

k lore time for sandy, macky and pete!! k so here's what's gonna happen. gonna give a synopsis of everyone's backstories and then gonna say how they all met. and then events that happen. well. leading up to title defense and after title defense.

oh and also while im at it, you have been warned from now abt upsetting themes so please read at your own discretion. (illness/terminal illness mention, neglect, and substance abuse to name a few.)

Mr. Sandman: Lived in a rather troubling home situation, but not for the reasons you'd think. Born Oswald Jones, he had a loving father and mother. Oswald's father was a boxer while his mother was a stay-at-home momma. However, Oswald's birth brought both joy and stress to the family. Despite seeming healthy for a while after being born, Oswald's health soon plummeted: he was born with a rare (and possibly deteriorative) respiratory condition called Dreamdust Syndrome. (As previously explained, DDS causes the afflicted lungs to rapidly produce a grainy material similar to sand. This substance is an irritant to the lungs but can sometimes be produced in such large quantities that it makes breathing difficult and can sometimes stop the person from breathing all together. It can also cause dream-like hallucinations.) Despite having stable income, and readily seeking out doctors for their little boy, it just seemed like no one could treat Oswald. And that's when things took a turn for the worst. Oswald fell seriously ill after his most severe attack where he coughed up blood and went unconscious, unable to breath. After rushing their boy to the hospital, Oswald had to be put under sedation to prevent any more coughing, and his parents received devastating news: the damage to Oswald's lungs and throat was getting serious. And with the way the disease seemed untreatable, Oswald would likely die eventually due to lung damage. Without anyone else to turn to, Oswald's dad turned to Dreamland for one last hope of helping his son, after a chat with Mr. Dream. The corporation took Oswald into their care, and managed to create a medication that suppressed the disease to a manageable level long enough for Oswald to adequately heal. And at long last, he was on the path to being able to begin his dream of becoming a boxer like his dad. Medicated and taking proper care of his body, of course. (I suppose the minor inclusion of the Arm Wrestling cast is that they work for Dreamland. So Sandy probably knows them.)

Little Mac: Sad boi with bad home life. Born as MacKenzie Reyes, he grew up in a poor family who hopped from low income housing to homelessness, and was often neglected by his own family. In light of these events, Mac turned into quite the little delinquent who'd often use aggression to vent his feelings about how he was being treated. This caused him to have some rather bad anger/temperamental issues later on down the road as he didn't have a healthy way to deal with them. On top of that, the feeling of being isolated from the people that were supposed to love him gave him fear of being abandoned. (Still sticks with him today.) It all built up to a fever pitch eventually, as Mac took a stash of supplies with him (things he had both managed to afford, and things he had stolen) and ran away from home. He hardly managed to take care of himself while on the run after a while, and by the time he reached New York City (where the WVBA is), he was pretty malnourished and exhausted. That's when he was discovered later by WVBA security near unconscious by the building's back exit. After receiving a visit from Mr. Dream himself regarding the reason he was here, Mr. Dream welcomed Mac to stay with the corporation, since he obviously had nowhere else to go. This was where Mac and Sandman got to know each other. Despite being offput by Mac's demeanor, and Mac being somewhat frightened by Sandman's intimidating personality (what he thought at the time), the two eventually became alright with the other's presence and became friends. Mac also became a boxer to begin earning income, or well, have money he could use. This is also how Mac met Doc Louis, as Doc was assigned to be Mac's coach and technically caretaker. (Doc managed the money Mac earned.)

Peter Punch: Was happy for a while but then the reality of his life hit him. Born Piera Rodriguez, he lived a life of complete luxury and comfort when he was a kid. (My Peter is transmasc and later changed his name to Pietro, so this past part will refer to his old identity.) As a kid, she traveled a lot with other relatives to see the world while her dad and mom (Peter Perfect, a boxer who was a champion of the WVBA's Branch B, and Paulina Perfect, his personal ring girl and of course doting wife) did their thing in the WVBA. However, even with all the fun times with his family, Piera struggled to feel comfortable with herself as it was hard to make friends and how she wanted to be a boxer like her father, yet always had to spend time away from him. Later on in life, Piera transitioned into being transmasculine with support from her family. Now Pietro, he found himself being much more comfortable in his own skin and feeling optimistic about following in her father's footsteps. That was until something horrid happened. Pietro and his mother watched his father get killed on national television as Nick Bruiser punched him in the chest with his own special move that was a straight shot punch to the abdomen. Perfect fell to the ground and ceased movement. And then they realized he wasn't breathing. He was rushed to the hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival. The cause was later found to be cardiac arrest caused by blunt force trauma to the chest. It was later revealed privately to his family members that Perfect was suspected to have a substance abuse problem (steroids) that caused his internal health to deteriorate, hence why they could not revive him. Paulina retired right after her husband's death, unable to go on in the ring without him, and equally trying to process how she never knew or found out that her husband needed help. Pietro finally realized why his father sent him away often to spend time with other relatives. But, after the mourning passed, he used this as even more motivation to become a boxer. To preserve his father's legacy even if he knew the truth. And to be an honest, strong boxer, and hide his pain behind a smile. (hypocritical, yes, we know.) Young Peter joined the Dreamland Program to train. And of course, that was when he met Mac and Sandman who were also training to become qualified. Peter did make them both weirded out at first with his friendly demeanor (those two rlly did not know what it meant to be an extrovert and genuinely nice lmao), eventually the three became a sort of trio of best friends. Peter felt a sort of protectiveness towards both of them, but especially Mac. Despite having a kind of extensive family before, Peter had never had a sibling and saw Mac as a little brother once they became closer. They're all bros. Basically. Sandy's the eldest, Pete's the middle child and Mac's le baby. And then when they all became boxers, MAN did things get tough.

When Mac was gearing up to fight Sandman for the first time, Sandman outwardly told him that he wasn't going to go easy on him just because they were friends. (Not in a belittling way, just honesty.) Sandy is overwhelmingly loyal to his title as he holds it as a memoir of his dad and as a thank you to Dreamland for saving his life. Thanks to all that “nearly died” stuff he went through, it left him with an issue with feeling weak. His disease was still with him, after all, the thing that nearly killed him. And whenever he went under those hallucinations, it made it all the worse. But Mac couldn’t really understand that, so he just responded in a “I knew that, I want to fight the real you, not a you that has to go easy on me” way.

Then when Mac actually took the belt from him, oooh Sandy was PISSED. Not at Mac (only like a little bit), at himself. It just sent him into a spiral of feeling imperfect, like he failed, all those issues just surfaced. And that anger motivated him. Which lowkey made Mac hesitant to talk to him, let alone approach him. Peter tried to help him during that time, having a different outlook on it and trying to reassure his friend that Sandman wasn’t angry at him.

“I need ya to understand somethin’, Mac. Sandman’s not mad at you. I dunno who he’s mad at, but it ain’t you. Sandman could never hate you or anything for taking the title. Trust me… I’m sure somewhere in his heart he’s proud of ya like I am.”

Title Defense made this all the more messy as Sandman gave Mac the BUSINESS in the ring. He was seriously giving it his all to try and get his title back which did not help Mac’s fear of Sandman being mad at him. Eventually, Mac did win the fight returning the aggression, but hoo smth scary happened. Thanks to all the hits to the torso, DDS came out once again and Sandman went down hard, coughing and wheezing overpowered by the cheering of the crowds. And well, Mac was the only one that noticed that Sandy was going unconscious cause of an attack.

After the fight, Sandman had to take a long break from boxing while being reevaluated. This made Mac feel awful for making it happen, but when Sandman was able to see him again, they hugged and talked it out.

“…I’m…. I’m really, really sorry…. I never m.. meant to…”

“Shh, Shh… It’s alright… It’s alright, Mac. I… I understand. I always knew you never meant to. And I forgive you. …I’m real proud of you.”

Then we have the title bout between Peter and Nick! Which did not end well! Cause leading up to it, Peter became withdrawn from his friends for the purpose of heavy training. (Well uh, of course he may feel some kind of way bc the guy killed his dad even if he didn’t mean it.) He was super miserable, and the fight’s aftermath just got plain ugly. Peter kept his cool during the fight even if Mac, who was retired at the time by the way (and going to school since he had the funds for it), could sense some serious seething behind his charismatic smile while watching with Doc and Sandman.

But afterwards, Peter just full on started avoiding everyone. And it got poor Doc stressed out cause both the boys did live with him! Late one night, Mac took it upon himself to go find him behind Doc’s back, going all the way to the studio on Doc’s bike. He found Peter alone in the back alleyway.

Boy did it go poorly. The title bout and all the shit he had taken from Branch B as a whole from both fans and boxers cause he’d been lying to himself just BROKE HIM. He full on threw away his title of Peter Punch and took on Canary Carnage to try and combat his feelings again. (He wanted to feel worth something. The whole thing about knowing Perfect wasn’t “perfect” and everyone was thinking the same thing for him was just fuckin’ stressful. Also just Branch B are just not v nice in general. Eh.)

Mac and Peter broke out into a vicious verbal fight where they debated about who was right for feeling what way, and it eventually nearly got physical as Peter nearly punched him while just spewing the truth of what his father did. But he stopped himself. It finally got Peter to give it up, and Mac took him home.

Peter’s still working on making the new persona something he can be proud of. He had to trash the old one for the sake of his sanity.

And well! That’s about it. A whole buncha problems they solved together. This has been my TED talk

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for pretending to have a rare terminal tropical disease?

I (M, 34) am self- employed and run a private consulting agency — in other words, I serve as unofficial adviser for the police, and for those who might require assistance in personal matters. I have a friend (M, 36) whom I occasionally call upon for assistance. We shared lodgings for several years, although two years ago he took a wife and moved elsewhere in the city; this of course led to some distance in our arrangement, as I am fairly solitary in my habits and have few occasions to call upon the happy couple. Having mentioned this, it would be a disservice to the good fellow if I did not say that I still believe he would gladly render his company and assistance in any small problems that might need clearing up.

Several weeks ago I was engaged in an investigation concerning the death of a young man, who had supposedly died as the result of an illness, but in which I suspected foul play. My inquiries led me to the eastern district of the city and I was able to trace the possible instigation of the disease to a certain Mr. S, an expert in tropical diseases, and uncle of the aforementioned young man. I determined that the best course of action would be to set a trap for this Mr. S, and the easiest method of doing so would be to adopt a pretence of having contracted the disease, through the same method that I suspected him to have poisoned his victim. Although I am by no means famous, I am not unknown to the criminal classes, and I let Mr. S know that I was on his trail. He played into my hand by anonymously sending me a poisoned box, which all but confirmed his guilt in the matter to me. I knew Mr. S’ vindictive nature and he would almost certainly come to look upon his handiwork. I could then elicit a confession and call upon the police to clear the matter up. 

To continue with the trap, I needed a helpmate, as a bedridden and ill man could not reasonably be expected to approach Mr. S on his own. For this I decided to enlist the assistance of my friend; he could inform Mr. S of my illness and so bring Mr. S within my grasp and the arms of the law. However, I could not inform my friend of this plan, as despite his positive qualities he unquestionably has no talent for dissimulation, and I could not rely on him to convey the reality of the false disease to Mr. S through his acting abilities alone. I would also have to inform my landlady of my condition, as she would be my point of contact for reaching my friend in his practice. Therefore, it was essential that I impress these two individuals with the reality of my having contracted the illness. This would not be so difficult in the case of the landlady, as it is the nature of womankind to be swayed easily by sentiment and allow this to cloud one’s judgement, and I knew that I could rely on her concern for my health to outweigh her natural discernment. However, in the case of my friend I anticipated a more elaborate deception, as he is a practicing medical doctor — and indeed I have great respect for his abilities, and have enlisted his help in some small medical matters. Fortunately, I have some experience in the fine art of malingering and of practical stage effects, and so endeavoured to recreate the symptoms of the disease as faithfully as possible. I also undertook three days of absolute fast (not so great a feat for myself, as my habits are irregular). I believe the final product was entirely convincing, and I confess to being pleased with my efforts and the effect it produced. 

I put my plan into motion by informing the good landlady of my illness, and ensured she would contact my friend first by insisting that I only be treated by him. My friend seemed very taken by my initial appearance and expressed his desire to find another doctor who could treat me; but of course I could not allow him to seek another professional as they would instantly expose my plan. I told him of my contracture of the disease, of my pitiful state, and of the absolute importance of finding a suitable expert to treat me, establishing Mr. S as the only viable candidate. I did not allow him to approach or treat me as I knew that he would see through the deception at once on account of my lack of fever — the one element of the illness I could not simulate. To ensure he was entirely convinced of the dissolution of my mental faculties, as would be expected in this disease, I proceeded to feign delirium, although on reflection I may have been somewhat too harsh in my words towards him, especially those regarding his medical abilities (I maintain that this was absolutely necessary for the deception). I kept him in my room for two hours in this way, and having finally ascertained that he was utterly taken by the urgency of the situation and moved by my condition, I allowed him to go fetch Mr. S. My friend then returned to act as an unwitting witness, concealed in my room, while I conducted the final coup de theatre. 

Ultimately, I was successful in my efforts; Mr. S was arrested, and I and my friend testified as witnesses. I do not believe I would have handled the situation differently had I the opportunity to do so, and when examining my actions I fail to see any glaring errors in my reasoning. I carried forth my plan with the complete thoroughness of the artist. However, I am beginning to grow anxious that I may have unknowingly offended my friend permanently with my admittedly inconsiderate behaviour in the pursuit of justice; it does not seem he has taken well to being deceived in such a way and he has remained distant since the affair concluded a week ago. Have I committed an unforgivable offence? I await your verdict with some apprehension. 

[aladdin]

WHO STOLE MY INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY? Aladdin Investigates

In 2021, I made a social media post to publicly call out one of my clients, Z2 Comics, for underpaying their creatives. I received between $45 - $75 a page for my coloring work, always below the industry minimum standard for mainstream work, while being pushed to work at rapid and unsustainable speeds. In that post, I expressed other grievances, as well, such as being told by Z2 leadership that I was simply replaceable - they told me they could hire new colorists for as low as $30 a page. 

The CEO of the company, Josh Frankel, appeared on my public call-out thread to tell me I was being "inappropriate,", and proceeded to terminate all active projects with my coloring studio, I Love Lamp, LLC. He was fully in his right to execute that decision - we had no work-for-hire contracts between us to complicate the business / legal side of things. 

Although Josh referred to himself as my “employer” on that thread, he must have either been confused. Luckily for him, because he was my client, and not an employer, it was not a federal crime for him to terminate our relationship over my open discussion of compensation with other working artists. 

Z2 found new colorists to finish up Elvis The Graphic Novel, Sublime: $5 at the Door, and Machine Gun Kelly's Hotel Diablo Graphic Novel. 

Although I met lots of great illustrators and editors during my time working with Z2, the experience was, broadly speaking, a nightmare. I was more than ready to sever ties. I retained, however, a massive financial stake in the work that I'd done - I never surrendered any of my intellectual property. 

The More You Know: In the American Legal system, a colorist is a co-author of the comic books on which they work, with the full rights that entails. 

I had no energy for a fight, so I straight up offered all of my IP to Z2, for free, under the condition that they write out an official contract. My intention was to have a complete list of work I'd done for Z2, and ensure that I'd be properly credited for my work, by the company, moving forward - a mutually beneficial arrangement, I believed. 

Josh rejected the offer, saying that a contract wouldn't be necessarily, and that the email itself "should work fine." In that same email, Josh also accepted an apology from me that I didn't make. I laughed at the clown, and wrote his name down in my burn-book ("Josh Frankel Is a Fugly Slut").

I made no further attempts to offer my IP to the Z2 circus show. Instead, when Z2 continued use my work in promotional material, I sent a cease and desist to Z2's marketing department, and offered an explanation to the various new hires that Z2 never secured the rights to my work. I was ignored, and the solicitations continued. 

The Hotel Diablo graphic novel, which was completed in my absence, was nonetheless heavily marketed using pages that my studio had colored - because, presumably, other colorists had been paid $30 a page, and their efforts reflected that. BloodyDisgusting and ComicsBeat both published uncredited previews of my work on that book, which have since been corrected to include my name. Explaining how my name had been omitted, the journalist at Bloody-Disgusting told me that he “was only able to run what I was provided with.” 

Z2 comics thought that it was in their best interests, apparently, to simply remove my credits from future publications - or, the company is just so sloppy that no one even knows who worked on what.

When the The Elvis Graphic Novel was released, the final print contained my my covers, my pin-ups, and more than a dozen pages of interior coloring, with the rest of the color art clearly modeled after my own - but my credits had been entirely stripped from the work.

Confused and angry, I checked the copyright text within the book - the Elvis Estate was claiming 100% of the IP rights in the book. Where did my intellectual property go? 

Did the Elvis Estate steal my color art? Does the Elvis Estate even know that my color art was stolen? Does the Elvis Estate they know they are trafficking in grifted IP? 

I'm sure that Elvis would be rolling in his grave to know that his brand was associated with stealing the work of other artists. 

Anyway, I checked online, and there exists no record (that I can find) that credits me for my coloring work on that Elvis, other than my own various social media posts. When I nominated myself for awards in 2021, I had included that Title -  how embarrassing to discover that there was no public record of my involvement.  

Newly incensed, I contacted an Arts / Entertainment lawyer for the first time. I never intended to file lawsuits - I just wanted to be treated fairly, and recover my intellectual property. The lawyer explained the dynamics of IP and copyright in 2022, and sent me on a quest to the US Copyright Offices to look up all the copyrights to the books I've worked on. 

Wouldn't you know it, almost every Graphic Novel I ever worked on with Z2 had been registered, with the entirety of the Intellectual Property being copyrighted by Z2's various clients. These copyrights were not filed independently by the artists - all the copyrights were registered by the same Lawyer in Alexandria, VA. I sent the lawyer an email asking, in effect, "Hey WTF?"

I have received no reply, and have since reported their office to the Virginia State Bar. 

Early in my tenure contracting for Z2, in 2020, Z2 co-founder Josh Frankel explained to me, at his birthday party, that he was withholding my creator credits in the press so that I wouldn't get poached out from under him. It was his clever solution for retaining my services. At the time, I didn’t have other offers for work, and I was encouraged by other creators to push through my frustrations, and earn my place at the table. I kept working for Z2, despite feeling devalued (because I was literally being devalued). 

Upon further reflection, there is reason to suspect that Josh's idea to withhold my credits may have had even broader implications than what he revealed to me. The concerted effort to minimize my association with Z2 comics happened to dovetail quite nicely with a possible corporate embezzlement scheme - Z2 had legal access to, but not legal ownership over, my Intellectual Property. Somehow, all of Z2′s clientele seems to be under the impression that they own 100% of the IP contained within their various projects.  I haven’t fenced a lot of stolen goods, but I imagine, as an arm-chair gangster, that it’s lot easier to sell stolen material if the buyers don't know that it was stolen. Did the clients even bother to check if the colorist had signed away his rights? 

From my studio in Baltimore, I can't do much other than speculate. Some questions remain, for me:

What happened, behind the scenes, that caused Z2's clients to believe that they owned all of my IP? 

Is there a relationship between this years-long IP 'displacement,’ and the fact that Josh Frankel left the company this Fall? 

If Z2 did, in fact, intentionally embezzle hundreds of pages of my coloring art over the course of 3 years, would that constitute a valid RICO case to be mounted against the company? 

Did God himself orchestrate these events to amuse himself over the irony of a bunch of 'anti-establishment' Artists and musicians using the power of the State to facilitate the theft of art from smaller creators? 

When I colored 2 pages of the Magic comic for Boom!, I was credited in their press release, and was tagged in tweets for months as the book was reviewed, and later collected into trade paperback editions. 

Z2, meanwhile, has sent dozens of my pages out for previews, while withholding my name from the credits. Some popular outlets that currently feature my uncredited work online include Paste Magazine, ScreenRant, the Hollywood Reporter, the Comics Journal, and BleedingCool. 

Was there a legitimate corporate conspiracy against me, with agents in place across all spectrums of Pop Culture? Is the US State going to stand in my way as I march through Hell to take revenge on God for his failure to protect me and my family? Must I surrender my own humanity in order to summon the cyberpunk that lurks within? What will I become? 

Sorry, my degree is in “Dramatic Writing,” not “Intellectual Property Law.”

Anyway, here's a non-exhaustive list of of Copyright Claimants that have filed, with the US Copyright Office, for full legal ownership over my Intellectual Property on their various publishing projects. For the lulz, I have added three asterisks to each book that utilizes “Anti-Authoritarianism” as a major literary theme. 

Grateful Dead Productions  Grateful Dead - Origins ***

Dominic Harrison ("Yungblud") Yungblud Presents: The Twisted Tales of the Ritalin Club *** Yungblud Presents: Weird Times at Quarry Bank ***

Moriah Rose Pereira ("Poppy") Poppy 1: Genesis *** Poppy's Inferno ***

Universal Music Group The Final Symphony: A Beethoven Anthology.

Skillet Eden II: The Aftermath ***

Dance Gavin Dance  Tale of the Robot ***

Rico Nasty, Inc.  Nightmare Vaycay *** Note: all images in this post were colored by Aladdin Collar for I Love Lamp, LLC, whose services were solicited by Z2 Comics. The Elvis Estate actually made minor adjustments to the Elvis cover, to their credit, they were very helpful in making their final touches, instead sending a thousand emails about inane bullshit. The paper texture on A Robot’s Tale was taken from an old book on archive.org, I don’t remember which one. The b/g textures of the Yungblud Presents cover below were originally from scans of a silk tie-dye scarf I originally made with my Mom for the Grateful Dead book and reused in at least 4 different projects. 

[troonwolf]

I found your blog going through the anti-endo tag (idk I get bored sometimes) and im sorry all this is going on. I hesitate to call myself a cult survivor because what I dealt with never felt severe enough to call it that and the “cult” word makes me flinch at times, but I do agree that the endo stuff that I’ve seen is atrocious and lines up with what you describe. I’m primarily anti-endo due to the whole “sysmed” concept and the harmful aspects of endos, before I ever found out I was a system.

When I did discover our system and they felt more comfortable explaining system stuff like that, one of our alters had came to the fore explaining their reasons for disliking them, which although we avoided endo spaces like the plague (anyone who calls a trauma survivor names like “sysmed” or god forbid, “traumascum”, is automatically horrifically awful), what we did read from accounts about people who were in endo spaces is horrific.

I don’t have much else to say tbh, just that I hope you have better days and nights ahead of you, whatever that means for you.

Thank you for putting in the effort to share this with me, anon. Especially since I know I do not come across as the most approachable person in the world when I'm stuck on frustration mode and questioning existence because someone annoyed me lol.

Your alter has such good instincts for immediately catching the red flags like that. Funnily enough back when we first got involved in all this (literally like a decade ago) although the discourse did exist in a lesser form, it hadn't become so vitriolic that people were being called "traumascum" and "sysmed". That part is honestly pretty recent. Back when I was on the endo side, we just called people "antis", which is like the generic moniker people on the internet use in general when they have discourse.

"Anti" is pretty neutral when compared to "sysmed" or "traumascum". What people don't realise is this is a purposeful manipulation tactic, so that people will associate this argument with trans people and transmeds. This in itself is literally a cult tactic and the only reason people don't want to call it what it is, is because it makes them uncomfortable. Not because it's not applicable. They think what they're doing is for good and justified reasons, but it's still toxic.

And it's not one or two or a few endos using this term. It's almost all of them. They will fight tooth and nail for the "permission" (for lack of a better word, sorry lol) to call anti-endos, who are often trans themselves and often have negative experiences with transmeds, the "system equivalent of transmed". They don't care if it's triggering or if it comes across as transphobic or ableist, what matters is it has the impact they want it to have.

The community has actively gotten worse and more extreme tbh.

The rest under the cut because it involves some details on my own trauma and I don't want people to accidentally skim and get triggered. Tw doomsday cult experiences.

When we first got involved with the endo community, we were literally fresh out of a doomsday cult. We were in it because of our mother, and it was the sort of thing that started off small and innocent seeming in early childhood, but became more extreme and dangerous as years passed.

I'm not going to get into too much detail, but eventually we were in a scenario where the cult had relocated to an isolated area in the middle of the mountains. The conditions were very bad. The things that happened there were very bad. It had already been bad but this was like, "oh someone is gonna fucking die" bad. (Someone almost did die eventually, because of the refusal to take them to the hospital. It turned into the sort of thing where it's considered a miracle they're still alive. Their sickness had become almost terminal due to neglect.)

Anyway, when we finally were able to escape, we didn't leave because we stopped believing the world was gonna end. We 100% still believed the world was gonna end. We just decided we would rather go down from the mountain, re-enter civilisation, and die there with the rest of society instead of being stuck on that compound.

We didn't tell anyone this though. Honestly we struggled for years to understand what happened to us and name it what it is. At the time, our mindset was that we were just going to live life in visible normalcy, and not mention to anyone the world was ending. We did this again not because we didn't think it was true, but because we wanted to spare everyone the stress of Knowing like we did.

It was during this period of being escaped from the cult but still not having shed our programming, that we found the soulbonding community. We had already worked out we were a system, but not really the specifics. And our prior history of being in a cult where medicine and psychiatry was rejected, and replaced with spirituality, crazy natural remedies, etc, meant some of us were very hesitant about the idea of DID or any other disorder.

There's a certain alter in here who is the most programmed out of the rest of us, and it was him who immediately became attached to the notion of soulbonding. At first he didn't really care TOO much about it, but constantly having it drilled into him that "soulbonds" (and then "endogenics", when that term was coined) were "real people from other dimensions" and that "DID alters are just symptoms", appealed to the same fantasy-based programming that had already been coded into him. Us being naive, we didn't do anything to stop him at first. It was only when we'd finally begun to detangle our cult programming and trauma, that we were also able to detangle the terrible mindset that he'd been influenced to adopt.

And as I mentioned in my other post, it really did negatively impact him and the system in many ways. After seeing what he/we went through, there's no way anyone can convince me endogenic beliefs aren't inherently damaging and cultish. Any belief that rejects medicine and tries to replace it with some woo-woo shit that has no basis in known science or known reality, is damaging and cultish.

This is what I'm trying to explain to people, but no one is reading what I actually said lol. If you are raised in certain kinds of environments, even environments that aren't as extreme as the one I outlined, you can be prone to fantastical thinking and toxic spiritual programming, which is the same kind seen in endo spaces.

Meaning that, you may have DID, but like my alter here, you are unable to unpack that, and when you come across an ideology that feels more comforting than the truth, it's easy for prior programming to sway you towards that ideology. If you have already been programmed, you can be programmed again very easily if you're not aware of your own programming and how to overcome it.

People think me calling them a cult means I'm calling them all malicious abusers, when the only people acting like that's what a cult is, are the people vaguing and attacking me. I genuinely feel like all I've done is try to raise awareness on something obvious, for the benefit of survivors of spiritual abuse inside and outside the endo community, but because of a petty little word choice like "cult", no one will even read what I said to hear where I'm coming from.

People have also tried to use the existence of cult survivors in the endo community as a way to dismiss me, But That's Literally What I'm Saying! Of course there are cult survivors in the endo community! WE were a cult survivor in the endo community! Endo beliefs appeal very strongly to certain kinds of cult programming, that's literally what I'm trying to say my mans!

And no matter how well-meaning someone is or believes themselves to be, that programming is still unhealthy. They don't understand that, because of their programming, and that programming causes harm to others due to the spread of the ideology. That person is still a victim of programming, and their programming causes them to unwittingly create more victims. That's how cults WORK.

All this nuance can indeed exist at once, and everyone would know that's what I'm saying if they actually read my posts.

[rabid-citrus]

Hello Dear, 

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to you, urgently pleading for your help. I appeal to your mercy and humanity to help us. Please don’t be surprised when I say that you, yourself, are my hope—the hope that can bring life back to me and my children. As you read this message, my family and I are hungry, thirsty, and terrified. We are homeless, depressed, and feeling hopeless. To be honest with you, I can endure famine, thirst, and homelessness, but I cannot bear the thought of watching my children die from starvation. 

I am a father of three children, striving alongside my wife to secure a decent life for them. After October 7th, our lives took a drastic turn with the onset of the cruel war on Gaza. Tragically, everything we owned was lost when our home and business were bombed and destroyed. We are now enduring a slow death, living a devastating life in Gaza. 

I am reaching out to you after exhausting all other options that could keep us alive. The basic needs of living and the harsh circumstances we are enduring have forced me to write this letter and extend a hand for help. I believe that your generosity and kindness can make a huge difference in our lives and give us the hope we so desperately need. 

In response to our dire circumstances, I have created a campaign to help my family rebuild our lives and meet our basic needs for food, water, and other essentials in these harsh conditions. My previous campaign, “tahseengaza,” was terminated, but my new campaign has been vetted by @olagaza, @90-ghost, & @northgazaupdates.  

All I ask is that you reblog the pinned post on my page and donate if you can. Your support would mean the world to us. Please consider visiting my GoFundMe page at https://www.gofundme.com/f/tahseen-family-from-gaza-not-to-feel-hungry By donating and sharing, you are helping me, my wife, and our three children survive the ravages of famine and genocide. You are giving us hope to rebuild our home and reclaim a life that was stolen from us. 

I would also greatly appreciate it if you could follow me to stay updated on our situation. I eagerly await your response and thank you in advance for your kindness and support. 

With deepest gratitude,  Tahseen 

I'm very sorry for not being able to donate anything myself, but I hope I can still help by sharing

Link is from the blog's pinned.

[stardustinmyhands]

5/3/24

I now have to coat the ends of my hair in coconut oil. The pool is frying my hair. My face is also dry. Lotion and coconut oil routine daily.

I’m sore today, but able to function. Meds on board of course. Doing laundry right now.

Yesterday I wrote 12 pages in my journal. I guess I had a lot to say.

I’m washing laundry right now. I kinda wanna go swimming but I don’t have the energy for a shower afterwards. That is a big deterrent for me, showering takes a lot of spoons. I work this weekend too, so I have to make sure I have energy for that.

I’m having dry mouth pretty bad lately, I think it’s my new mouthwash. It has alcohol in it. I didn’t read the ingredients, my last one didn’t and didn’t do this to my mouth. So I’m drinking a lot of water, which with my lasix makes me pee even more. It’s only 9:50 am and I’ve peed 5 times already.

I see my pcp on Wednesday and get my ivig on Thursday. I have a list already for my pcp, I need referrals, med refills, on top of what she wants to do. I hope my A1C hasn’t jumped. I will have to go back on meds more than likely. I’ve been eating carbs cause my stomach can handle them with my stomach issues. I will also ask for Zofran, well more of it my gi doctor only gave me 4mg pills, when my normal dose is 8mg.

I still have to call the new hospital I will get my IVIG at and see how the new order is going. I might as well stay at the Phoenix location till I see my immunologist next month. I like those nurses anyway. I’m nervous to go to a new clinic, I have to learn a new hospital layout, new nurses. Hopefully it’s as comfortable as the Phoenix location. All that is nerve wracking to someone who doesn’t like change

Some days I wish I could have a normal life. A full time job in the career I trained in, making $40 an hour. With a kids. Of all the things I had to give up cause of my condition being a mom is the biggest one. My OBGYN told me I would be high risk right from the start. With my autoimmune condition, my autoimmune system may attack my baby. But they would do whatever they could to keep me and the baby safe. They also told I would be an automatic c section at 37 weeks. My psychiatrist told me he wouldn’t even want me to get pregnant with my mood stabilizer in my system, cause it can cause fetal abnormalities. And I may have to consider termination, even if it’s a wanted baby. I also take methotrexate every week, which can cause abortions. Which here in Az is now illegal, except in certain cases. I tried to get pregnant, but it never happened. I did get pregnant when I was 18, and had a miscarriage. I had a dream I gave birth to a son, I took a test that morning and I was pregnant. So I knew it was a boy. His name would have been Ezra. Ultimately I guess it works for the best I never became pregnant, even though I have wishes for it since I was a little girl.

[themomsandthecity]

The Very Real Sacrifice of Caring For Aging Parents in Your 20s

"I think things will be easier if my mom dies first," I found myself saying out loud to my best friend late last year, sitting on the carpeted steps of her rental house. This sentence may have come across as cold and morbid to anyone else, but I knew Tessa understood where I was coming from: Her dad and my dad both have terminal lung diseases, and neither of us have the best relationships with our moms, either. My mom in particular is generally healthy, but I worry about her living alone as someone who can be forgetful, overly trusting, isolated, and naive. Tessa and I met working at our college bookstore as cashiers. She's now a math teacher married to a great guy with a new baby boy. Tessa just turned 29. I'm a healthcare reporter who lives in Oakland, CA. I take art classes, love walking around the Bay, and have a 9-year-old cat named Clark. I'll be 28 later this year. Tessa and I both have older parents, and have bonded over how it can sometimes feel like we got robbed of fully enjoying our 20s. I don't call Tessa to gab about a new crush, or text her photos of my outfit options before a date. Instead, we talk about having to navigate federal healthcare on behalf of our parents, and arrange care for them while simultaneously trying to keep our own lives afloat. Neither of us feel like we have the same normalcy our friends do; we don't often call our parents for advice or anticipate the holiday season with excitement. Instead, our 20s have mostly felt like we're consistently waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it does, we turn to each other for support. I am one of many millennials being affected by what's been referred to as an elder-care crisis. It's difficult to care for aging parents, especially with whom you have a strained relationship, while also navigating early adulthood. . . and financially earning less than they did at my age. The weight of credit card debt, student loans, and societal expectations can feel crushing. Hell, sometimes vet bills for just Clark can get pricey, even with pet insurance. I want to save money. I want to travel. I'd like to upgrade from a studio to a one bedroom so I don't have to fall asleep staring at my desk, since I work from home. But I also know that when my dad inevitably passes - and likely before my mom due to his condition - I'll need to be able to spring a last-minute plane ticket home and help get things in order. I recently received a master's degree from Syracuse University's Newhouse School, and throughout my final few semesters, I routinely thought to myself, "I hope my dad stays alive at least until I finish this degree." It can often feel like I'm holding my breath, hoping my parents hang on until I'm in a more established place in my life, so that I can offer the best care while also being my best self. My dad's prognosis was originally around seven years max, and he's now in his third year since being diagnosed. His health isn't currently changing much day by day, and when people ask how he's doing, I reply, "About the same." It can often feel like I'm holding my breath. I deeply desire to maintain autonomy in my own life, which still feels like it's just beginning. But I also want to make sure my parents are safe, healthy, and have all the resources they need as they age. So, rather than save for an eventual wedding or other milestone, I now have a separate savings account explicitly meant to help my parents in the event of something tragic. Just like a wedding is a major life event, so is losing a parent and maintaining care for the other parent - particularly if you're an only child, like I am. (At this point, some might ask, "Why don't you just leave the Bay Area if you're so concerned about money?" So, I should note that I have two uncles who live here, and we're very close. They weren't always part of my life, and as they also get up there in age, I want to be around them as long as possible, making… https://www.popsugar.com/family/millennial-taking-care-aging-parents-essay-49351514?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[collectingtruths]

Part 8: A Change Is Gonna Come

“You wouldn't just have to solve the crime, you'd have to solve the entire world that that crime happened in.”

― Alan Moore

[Life had a way of changing, sometimes all at once and sometimes over a long stretch of time. For her, it seemed to happen all at once. One minute she was on a clear and defined path, the next she had lost someone she cared about, someone whom she still blamed herself for his death. Then she had been forced to go on vacation which had quickly turned into the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had always loved the sun, in a platonic way. But that just wasn’t the case anymore. Apollo had come into her life when she least expected it and it wasn’t something she was going to do without anymore. Somehow, he had added God of Making Long Distance Relationships Work to the already long list of skills he possessed and she was thankful. He had become far too important to her and she hadn’t wanted to walk away from that or him and he didn’t seem to want to sever the connection either. 

Shortly after she returned to work she had a visit from someone she hadn’t been expecting. An old friend of Dom’s that worked for the FBI. And not just any old office, but a very prestigious one out of Quantico. Raymond Westcott had stopped by /her/ office and not so subtly told her he wanted her working for him. He had told her that Philadelphia had plenty of work to be done, but that it was “small fucking potatoes” compared to the work she could be doing. The offer wasn’t something she could just chuck off her desk because Westcott made it far too appealing to say no all at once and she had suspected that was the point. The potential for an increase in salary had been nice, and it was being offered as a consultant. But what had really tugged at her was that Dom had personally recommended her. He had told Westcott that she was one of the best analysts he had ever worked with. Dom had always been tactical, he was never in the behavioral aspect of things, but he had a close relationship with Westcott and had confided in him, he told him her talents were being wasted in this Killadelphia. She hadn’t accepted the offer then. She wanted to think about it and after she had gone home that night, she asked Apollo to join her. His advice had been sound after she laid it all out to him. He had of course encouraged her to do whatever she felt would be right for her and that he wasn’t tied to any place specifically so if she took it and moved, he would simply find her wherever she was. He talked about the hard work she had done to even be considered since she hadn’t even applied for it to begin with. Again, Apollo gave her good advice. She was sure he could have told her to yodel in the Alps and she would’ve yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo’ed until her throat was sore. She had called Westcott that evening and accepted, but…she wanted to be able to earn that spot in some way. So the next morning, she turned in her resignation and had made it effective immediately. Her supervisor hadn’t even acted all that surprised and ended the conversation with the words, “I’ll never be able to replace you, Vance.” 

For three weeks, she had worked with Apollo on conditioning herself. She wasn’t out of shape, but she didn’t think she could meet the physical requirements of the Basic Field Training Course (BFTC) on a diet of chopped cheese hoagies and Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets. Apollo was appalled at her diet and immediately terminated her lease agreement and whisked her away to Greece where he said, “I can keep my eyes on you at all time, Thaleia. You can’t be trusted.” She thought he had been joking, but about physical fitness and keeping her body in optimal form was not something he joked about. The first thing he did was replace every bit of the processed food she consumed with whole foods. Fruits, vegetables, grains, meats, dairy, fats. Everything had been the best of the best, but had just been a start. The training he had in mind wrecked her. Every muscle in her body had been stretched to the max, everything had hurt. But then he had oh so many ways to make it feel good. She had quickly been made aware that he was God of Orgasms too. But those three weeks had passed in a blur and then he was dropping her off at Quantico with a kiss and a slap to her ass and said, “Know the right moment, knowing that all other things are secondary to this.” She had laughed and told him he could have just said go get’em, tiger. His grin could cause both her heart and her thighs to squeeze at the same time. 

The BFTC was a sixteen week long course. The curriculum includes lessons in a variety of

areas like firearms, defensive tactics, interview and interrogation, and human intelligence. And in order to graduate, she had to pass the Physical Fitness Test (PFT), scoring a minimum of twelve points with at least one point in each of the four events. If she made it through, her graduation would be in week sixteen. She had been required to reside on campus for the

entire first three weeks of training with a midnight curfew. After that, she had stayed in an off campus apartment where her tanned, blonde, Greek God visited as often as he could. By far her favorite part of the sixteen weeks had been the academic side and the operational skills she had learned. And what she had learned was that training with an actual god /had/ prepared her for the  Physical Fitness Test that had been administered multiple times throughout the sixteen weeks. Her continuous sit-ups in one minute along with her timed 300-meter sprint rivaled quite a few of the men in her course and she certainly enjoyed the pride that beamed off Apollo when she relayed that bit of praise from her instructor. 

The day of her graduation made her feel as though she had accomplished something that never thought she could. And when she shook the hand of the FBI director and received her credentials that labeled her as a federal agent, she knew Dom would have been proud. When she left the stage, she found Apollo waiting for her. He had wrapped her up in a tight up, stood to his full height and her feet had dangled. She heard a chuckle come from behind her and when she had turned, one of the agents that had been in her training shook his head. “So, that’s how you did all those damn sit-ups. I’m onto you, Vance.” She blushed and shook her head. Apollo had countered that it had been his instruction, but her determination that got her that victory. It had been one of her proudest moments. 

Blowing out a breath, she stood in the lobby and waited for Westcott to come out. “Vance. Good to see you.” She turned and smiled at him. While she opted to remain under the third option of working for his team, she still had the credentials if she needed them.] Thank you, sir. I’m a little nervous, but I can’t wait to meet your team. [He chuckled. “We’ll you’re a part of that now. Welcome to your new assignment. I’m going to have you working on the cold cases for now. They could really use the fresh eyes and I don’t want to throw you into the deep end just yet. There’s a difference between the BAU and the BAP. In the BAP, we send you out to train officers and agencies. In the BAU, we focus on apprehension and actively working cases. I know we talked about putting you in BAU-1, it’s more of the analyst side of things, but…I know in my gut you’ll be better suited for BAU-4.” He opened a door, four other sets of eyes looked in her direction and they smiled. It felt welcoming. Three men, one woman and an empty desk in the back with a few files sitting on the top. Westcott walked toward the back and tapped on the back of the chair. “Welcome to Violent Criminal Apprehension Program also known as ViCAP.” She smiled and made her way to her desk. She had just set down her bag when her eyes caught on the file that sat on the top. She opened it up and read the bulletin.

“SEEKING INFORMATION: Sasha Beekman, a fourteen-year-old female teen, was reported missing by her parents on July 14, 1994, to local law enforcement in Beaver County, Pennsylvania. Several months later, on November 4, 1994, Sarah's remains were discovered in the "Berlin Reservoir," located within an Ohio state park, Portage County, Ohio. This rural community in Ohio was located approximately two hours away from the victim's home in Pennsylvania. 

Additionally, Karen Mack, another female teen victim, went missing on August 25, 1994, and her nude body was found several days later on an oil road near the "Berlin Reservoir." Karen had been strangled to death. Both Sasha and Karen’s bodies were located approximately 1/2 mile apart in the same Ohio state park. Seventeen-year-old Karen was from Portage County, Ohio.

Information is being sought in both cases. Specifically, how Beekman from Pennsylvania ended up murdered in Ohio and information regarding the murder of Mack. Investigators believe the two cases may be related. The FBI from both Pennsylvania and Ohio have been working closely with local law enforcement from Portage County, Ohio, as well as Beaver County, Pennsylvania.

If you have any information concerning this person, please contact your local FBI office or the nearest American Embassy or Consulate. 

Field Office: Pittsburgh.” 

She chewed the inside of her cheek. Looked like she was going back to PA after all.] 

#TDATD #KillerCases

[lindamilesauthor]

Cultivating Strength and Compassion as Caregivers of Dementia Patients

Transcending The Happily Ever After Myth

By, Dr. Linda Miles

Joseph Campbell wrote that "the purpose of life is to find joy amidst suffering." Successful couples manage to be happy together much of the time despite Life Challenges.

Once upon a time, over two decades ago, my husband and I wrote a book together called The New Marriage: Transcending the Happily Ever After Myth. The main theme of our book was the ability to let go of myths about marriage and embrace reality—When We read fairytales to Merritt, the granddaughter, we changed the ending. Instead of saying the couple married "and lived happily ever after" we'd say, "they began the work of making a good and happy marriage."

 As a psychotherapist, I have been inspired by the work of Stephen Levine and his work with the terminally ill. He writes about "sacred spaciousness" so that patients and caregivers can make room in their minds for the pain and the grace of the moment. I now know firsthand how heartwarming and heartbreaking it is to care for a cherished family member suffering from a chronic condition. Robert, my beloved husband of 33 years, has advanced dementia. He often doesn't recognize me. Just today, he remarked to me, "You look familiar. I have seen you around here quite often. "He may not know me, but I know him.

This is the last chapter of a long love story.

Recently, we renewed our vows—a reminder and promise of togetherness till the end. It helps me find strength by seeking and creating moments of joy amidst suffering. One night before Christmas, when I walked into the bedroom, Robert looked up and told me he had seen me at work many times. He added that he found me smart and attractive and wanted to marry me. What his mind did not remember, his heart still knew. My heart still knows.

His memory, in part, was true; we had worked together as colleagues at a mental health center decades ago. He could not remember that we were already married and had been for decades. I joyfully said yes to this second marriage proposal; we renewed our vows in the company of our family, with our pastor's son performing the ceremony. Robert could not stand, but his longtime friend supported him from his medical school days. So much grace surrounded us that night.

One night after the vow renewal celebration, Robert seemed to know who I was and became protective. My husband had been healthy and worked as a psychiatrist for most of his life. He seemed to think he was protecting me because he told me that I needed to go find someone else because he was now "ugly and dumb." It hurt me that he would feel like that about himself, and I reassured him that I would never leave. With the help of the family and Hospice, we have been able to keep him at home. I am grateful that I am healthy and can care for him. 

My adult son saw the toll that caregiving alone was taking on me and offered to move his family from Virginia to help. Having his family here has brought so many moments of joy and opportunities to practice sacred spaciousness. Robert loves having family around. Merritt, the granddaughter we read about relationships, is now pregnant with a great-grandchild named after Robert. She calls weekly from Chicago. No matter where the conversation with Robert takes them, she sounds interested and responds appropriately. Recently, he believed that we were at a campground and she went with the story and ask him all about the tents. Later, I pretended to escort out a wild turkey that he imagined was in the room with us. I later laughed with the family, because there was no way I would get near a wild turkey! I live the lesson that humor can be like a gentle rain that carries away some pent-up tension. I also have good friends who understand my situation because they are also caregivers. I can call them at any hour to vent, share my feelings, and, finally, to laugh.

Being chronically ill can be a heavy burden—too many people can attest to that. What fewer people mention is that caring for a chronically ill loved one takes its toll, too. The caretakers of those who have dementia or Alzheimer's are often referred to as the "second patient" because of the intense physical and emotional demands of this type of caretaking. It's easy to feel burned out, worn down, psychologically distressed, or even resentful when motivated by guilt, a sense of duty, social pressure, or greed. On the other hand, caregivers who combine duty with the desire to show loving-kindness and genuinely protect the person they care for are those who experience fewer negative emotions. Such caring is associated with positive feelings, positive brain chemicals, including oxytocin and dopamine, and the increased likelihood of reaching out to others for help and support. 

The National Institute of Health cites that the majority of caregivers enjoy the positive experiences that foster togetherness with their loved ones: shared activities, bonding, spiritual and personal growth, increased faith, and feelings of accomplishment and mastery. When duty and desire are aligned, there is increased fulfillment and reduced psychological distress. Caretakers of those with chronic conditions—just like chronic patients themselves—can individually become better or bitter based on their capacity for loving kindness toward themselves and others.

A happy and sustainable relationship bypasses fairytale notions about marriage and happens when two people deal together with the vicissitudes of life. Although it takes work, resilience, faith, compassion, and the conscious choice to confront—and not run from—life's challenges.

To overcome these challenges and find purpose in life, it is important to celebrate life together. I find many moments of light as a caregiver for my husband. And its life-affirming, hope-igniting, and heart-warming to pursue and celebrate love as this lasting light. It is easy to give and receive love when the going is easy, the sun is shining, our cares are few, and the romance is fresh. It is harder— fulfilling—to share love when the road is littered with challenges, the day has darkened, and time or trouble has made us (in the words of Yeats) feel old and grey and full of sleep. But that is where we find true love, the love that is consciously cultivated brings opportunities for transformation of the mind and spirit. As I write this, my husband peacefully sleeps, and the door is open to our wooded backyard on a beautiful day. I take time to mindfully experience the miracles around us and feel gratitude that the love of my life is still beside me.

Dr. Linda Miles

[surrealinkrpstories]

FuckinLucid and FuckinPredator

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid:

[The warm air wraps around me like a blanket as I step out of the air-conditioned reception of the motel I was staying in. My damp tresses will easily dry in this heat, but it’s likely that the humidity will make it look wild. I grab a hair tie from my pocket. The bright sun causing my eyes to squint. Shame I don’t have sunglasses. I make a mental note to acquire some soon. My fingers brush the nasty graze on my temple as I collect my hair up and thread it through the elasticated bangle. I want coffee. I need to stay awake. At least until I can find somewhere safe to rest. Lack of sleep, my hangover and the head knock make my steps awkward and unbalanced. I feel sickish. I’m parched, my throat is dry and I’m practically salivating for coffee. I don’t quite recall the layout of this place, so I decide to head to the coffee place near the bus terminal. A collection of stands and shops for people entering the state of Texas. It’s not too far from where I was staying. It doesn’t take very long at all, even in my shitty condition to walk the couple of blocks. I am still thinking about the night before, the fight and the tattoo store, distracted as a bus pulls up in the terminal I’m walking past.]

Paige ~ @FuckinPredator:

*I have to get me another ride. I really have to get me another ride. Because I have to sit on one more retched piss infused capsule with morons who like to leave their DNA on the floor like a greeting card I may just blow someone’s arm off. I forgot how sweltering it can be in the big state. Where cowboys and all- american citizens come to line dance and ride the bulls. I wish I could say this was a leisure trip but its not. This is so I can fill in some missing pieces. Missing pieces my superior says they can not fill in. I call bullshit but I won’t approach them yet. Not until.I get everything. I breeze down the aisle with Lucy strapped to my back concealed in a guitar case. A fellow passenger grins as I near the steps his hand twitching. I look dead in his eyes and pour as much threat into my voice as I speak.* If you want to keep that hand I suggest you keep it off my ass. Good boy. *Descending the stairs, I take a look around to contemplate where to head first. Maybe a drink. Its never too early for one of those. I head South into the sun trying to shade my eyes with a hand*

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid:

[I sway as I walk. The sun beats down on my skin and my head starts to pound. I’m pretty certain I had a bottle of water in my bag. I pull my large rucksack from my aching back and begin to rummage through the messy contents, picking up random items and holding them in my hands while I try to find something to drink. I curse not being more organised and vow that as soon as I get chance to sit, to sort out my shit. As I continue to search, I don’t look at where I’m walking and crash into the front of @FuckinPredator, a blonde woman. I’m momentarily distracted by the ink on her skin, I stumble and drop my bag, trying to catch myself but dragging @FuckinPredator to the pavement with me.] Oh shit… [I mumble]

Paige ~ @FuckinPredator:

*The next item on your list Paige is a pair of sunglasses. This sun is killer on my eyes. I continue my path down the sidewalk just as a pretty little thing comes ploughing me down to the concrete. Usually I would go ape shit but @FuckinLucid looked a bit beat up. I begin to to stand before offering @FuckinLucid a hand in getting up* Hey. Its cool. Do you need any help?

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid:

[I sigh looking from the pair of bright, grey intense eyes belonging to @FuckinPredator to my possessions littering the sidewalk. Twice in the space of twenty-four hours I seem to have connected with the floor. I nod at @FuckinPredator, taking her hand and standing.] I’ve been so clumsy these past few days. [I try to explain to @FuckinPredator whilst leaning down to grab my iPod.]

Paige ~ @FuckinPredator:

*My eyes seem to not be able to control its direction from @FuckinLucid face to the beautiful ink etched into her soft skin. I was itching to get more ink. I’m sure i could find a spot. I listen to @FuckinLucid talk about her misfortunes as I help her gather her things* Sounds like you are having some bad luck. You know what they say, once you hit rock bottom the only place to go is up. *I give @FuckinLucida warm smile noticing the imperfection on her head. Damn @FuckinLucidmentioned clumsy but that looks like she fell into a tire iron. I pick up a bottle of what looks like painkillers and hands them to @FuckinLucid as she stands. Such a small woman she is. “Cute” I say to myself but something in @FuckinLucid vivid brown eyes tells me she’s definitely not innocent* So uh, do you know any good bars around here?

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid:

[My eyes widen at @FuckinPredator’s question.] Bars? [As I try to think, a wave of dizziness overtakes me and I know I need to move soon. I forget the water and look around us to try to get some sense of direction. I point down one of the roads behind @FuckinPredator] Actually, a friend of mine said there’s a cool place that way. In the warehouse district… [A flash of the fight from the night before reminds me of what else is in that direction.] It’s near a run-down ink store. [The mention of tattoos has my eyes roaming over @FuckinPredator again.] Nice tatts.

Paige ~ @FuckinPredator:

*I look down @FuckinLucid and grin as I pull down my shirt to show her my chest* I’m an impulse buyer. I see something I get it. The same goes for you. You have some interesting ink. *I look behind me then back at @FuckinLucid* Care to join me? You look in need of a stiff one.

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid: 

[I laugh and wave my hand dismissively at @FuckinPredator.] You go ahead. I’m hungover. [I shove the last of my shit in my bag.] I need caffeine to wake me up… [And soon. I nod and offer my free hand to @FuckinPredator.] Aleva. Sorry once again for bumping into you.

Paige ~ @FuckinPredator:

*I take @FuckinLucid hand and give it a firm shake. My senses go off something causes my body to hum. Could it be her? Nah.* Paige. It was a pleasure getting mowed down by you. *I give @FuckinLucid a smirk and re-adjusts Lucy on my back* Well if we ever bump into each other again, drinks will be on me. Oh and not literally. *I nod at @FuckinLucid and head in the direction she mentioned. Getting wasted was in order*

Aleva ~ @FuckinLucid:

[I chuckle nervously. @FuckinPredator is giving me a strange look… but it could just be my imagination. I shake my head.] Sounds like a plan. I’ll catch you in there sometime. [I nod again and wave before turning away and heading towards the coffee-shop.]

[leftfieldgames]

Swashbuckler Seas Development Reflection based on a walkthrough of its GDevelop events sheet

Let me begin by saying it’s one thing to be theoretically cognizant of the “defined... architecture for the overall game program” as:

“1. Initialisation (Init or Start)

2. Game Loop (Main or Update)

3. Termination (Cleanup or Quit)”

--and another thing altogether to develop a game large enough (ha!) to experience it and really get your hands dirty (CodeHS, 2022).

I’ve been using the following excellent flowchart from the blog Read Write Code as a general reference for this structure:

(CodeHS, 2022)

However, in truth, this is the structure that has intuitively arisen anyway in the development of Swashbuckler Seas, and I’m inclined to think that, as long as computers continue to work the way they do in terms of processing, this is how any and all games look as programs.

As the sole “programmer” on Swashbuckler Seas (if you can call looking up whatever arbitrary language GDevelop uses for otherwise standard conventions, “programming”) I’ve made it my business throughout this piece of assessment to refine my programming and coding practice. The benefit of using something so accessible and simplified as GDevelop, of course, is that this refining of good coding etiquette hasn’t become sidetracked by simply not being able to speak the programming language-- for the most part.

I’ll admit it-- I didn’t organise all the parts of the game program into appropriate groups until I was absolutely waist-deep in mechanics, both used and discarded, cherry-picked and adapted from all sorts of YouTube videos and GDevelop forum posts.

When I did, however, I think I actually realised satori.*

Moving on, the Start phase of the program runs as follows:

The music begins. Any relevant timers begin. Variables are set to their defaults. The camera is set.

Now, I have no doubt that to the experienced eye (i.e. not mine), literally none of this is new or particularly surprising. I also have no doubt that there is likely a best practice for what order in which these things should be initialised-- off hand, I wonder if it’s more prudent to have the timers begin before the music, for example. In a pragmatic sense, it probably doesn’t matter, but I wonder about these things in terms of keeping code clean and extending consideration toward anyone else who might also be handling the code.

(In this case, obviously, there was only me. Needless to say, what you won’t see in any of the “code” throughout this post is the struck-through remains of unused, omitted or disabled features and mechanics, which I cleaned up for the final version, and which would have definitely presented issues for any fellow programmers on the team).

Now here’s a “learning moment.” I should probably not begin the Game Loop proper with the health/firepower upgrades mechanic.That probably belongs after player controls, player health, scoring, etc. Chalk it up to something to bear in mind in future. Incidentally, this was one of the last things I added to the game, and I think in my search for a fresh start on a feature, I simply created a new event underneath the Start Phase, and the rest was history.

Being one of the last things implemented in the game, I’m proud to say that I actually required very little assistance from online sources in writing this “code.” I already knew how to set a condition for the player clicking on something, changing scene variables, the difference between a global variable and a scene variable, creating objects (and on the correct layer, too!), starting timers, and playing sound effects.

(The Score I had to change from a scene variable to a global variable when I wanted to carry it into the “Game Over” scene. That was an exciting “find and replace,” let me tell you.)

Upgrading the maximum health hearts was a struggle, actually. I was nervous to change the code around the hearts as I had adapted it from a tutorial and there were parts I didn’t fully understand. I experienced what I have no doubt is the classic programmer anxiety around pulling one block out of the proverbial Jenga stack and having the entire thing simply stop working unaccountably, creating an extra three hours’ work for me.

Nevertheless, I persevered and talked myself through the logic of the events (as I like to do while coding) and the entire thing turned out to be much simpler than I had anticipated.

Implementing the 360-degree spray of cannonballs was really fun. Again, I’m glad I didn’t try to implement it earlier, because in particular I needed to be able to manipulate object instance IDs in order to determine the angle of each of the six cannonballs. And I couldn’t do that until I had finalised the health hearts system.

My intuition as to the “cost” of these Upgrades in-game-- i.e. how much of the score the player must spend to earn each upgrade, turned out to be fairly spot-on. The exception was the multi-cannonball upgrade, which had to be nerfed by increasing its cost to 2000 points, as it rendered an already comically easy game positively braindead once you accessed it.

Now this is interesting. Originally, the game retained the original controls we were instructed on our “Asteroids” prototype: mouse only. This, to my thinking, was a boon, considering it made the game very accessible to mobile players, who represent an audience with a terrifying growth rate within the games market, to the point where some researchers have actually identified “a gradually shrinking traditional gaming market” (Cai, 2022).

However, during collaborative team discussions, we decided we wanted the player movement and the player fire to be more separated, and a little more nuanced. We wanted the player to have more control over on-screen elements using the cursor, while enabling them to continue to move around the map. This was especially important when considering the slide-up Upgrades menu.

Other than that, I would note that it was fun to learn how to manage a separate weapon sprite from a player sprite, and I remember thinking that this would be a useful thing to understand for future game development. In this case, it was made simple by the fact that, as reflected in the code, the cannon would “Always” need to be in the center of the ship. (This in itself meant that I had to get to grips with the Points on the sprites, learning that sometimes GDevelop considers certain “position” actions using the “Center” point, and others using the “Origin” point, and there’s no way of knowing in advance what the program will do).

This was frustrating. I found a YouTube tutorial on creating an arcade-style score with leading zeros. (Or at least, a demonstration of such a feature with, well, something to be desired in terms of explanation and detail), but no matter how hard I tried, I kept encountering an issue whereby the number of leading zeros at the beginning of the game changed once the player began earning points. I’m sure it’s actually a very easy fix, and if I set my mind to it, it’ll only take a maximum of half an hour. But it fell to the bottom of the bugfixing priorities.

In deciding that the map of the game world would extend beyond the window, of course the issue arose of enemy spawning location. In its Per My Email days, this part of the events sheet simply had enemies spawning in random spots on the map. Simple!

However, now we needed enemies to spawn anywhere on the map, except in the field of view of the player. For the longest, most irritating while, it somehow slipped my mind to create variables representing the extreme sides of the map, and instead I had coded hard co-ordinates into the enemy spawning mechanic. When I finally saw sense, I was able to respond to team-member requests to alter the size of the map with much greater ease.

To further comment on enemy spawning, likely the most interesting feature to me at this point, yet also the smallest detail and also the most last-minute detail to be added, was the spawn rate.

One of the core pieces of feedback which was consistently raised by playtesters was the difficulty of the game. It was possible to sit in one spot, fire in all directions, and not see a single enemy for minutes on end, earn 1000 points shooting off-screen enemies, purchase the multi-cannonball upgrade, and then you could really grind up the score, rinse and repeat.

I had the rough idea of implementing a simple time-sensitive difficulty scale. The simple addition of a timer for “elapsed time” and tying it to the spawn rate of enemies actually added a rudimentary additional level of challenge to the game. It added, in fact, a sense of rising tension and urgency to gameplay.

Given more time on this game, I would have liked to have playtested this thoroughly and refined the specific values. 

Moving on:

Originally, the health restore item was a rum barrel, as I thought it fitted with the pirate theme. However, I created the sprite in a rush, and no playtesters were really sure what to do with it. It also created confusion whereby if playtesters learned it was a health restore item, they also thought they might pick up points by running into debris.

If I’d had the time, I would have added an animation whereby it rotated and behaved more like a barrel, and less like a badly-tweened Flash animation prop circa 2008.

There’s not a whole lot to say regarding the collisions in the game, other than the fact that it’s pretty clear at this point that I took Per My Email and built on it for this game. There was a lot of logic involved in ensuring objects were created and destroyed appropriately, and scene variables updated properly.

There is an unused variable/function in there called “Push,” which again, is from a tutorial I used to implement the hearts system. The idea was that there was some pushback to the player sprite on sustaining damage, however this was another minor “nice-to-have” bugfix that fell to the bottom of the priority list.

My gods, if someone had told me earlier that GDevelop had a “for each” function!

And I think I just spotted the issue with the “Push” function. I forgot to introduce the variable “Damage.” Cue head-smacking.

Need I say more here? The Health variable is equal to or less than zero, you die and we change to the “Game Over” scene. I should have probably removed the “death” sound effect, since: a) it’s me indecorously going “blegh” into a microphone, and b), it’s inaudible considering the louder “Game Over” jingle which plays on the scene change.

*The state of awakening in the Zen Buddhist tradition.

REFERENCES

Cai, X., Cebollada, J., & Cortiñas, M. (2022). From traditional gaming to mobile gaming: Video game players’ switching behaviour. Entertainment Computing, 40, 100445. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.entcom.2021.100445

CodeHS. (2022, March 3). Teaching the Game Loop. readwritecode.blog. https://readwritecode.blog/teaching-the-game-loop-4c264398384

GDEV in 60 Seconds. (2021, April 5). GDevelop 5 Score and Countdown Timer [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qraa4xgvLmY

NT_exe. (2020, August 24). Health points as hearts in Gdevelop [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKVQsdaH3l8