#it feels like ive succeeded in explaining who they are

[thedoormann]

Are you okay with aus/ head cannons of your ocs?

AUs are my beloved I love AUs

Headcanons are ok too as long as they're respectful towards what is canon. My ocs are very personal to me and I put alot of thought into every aspect of who they are so as long as you're respectful its ok! I only say this because I've had people joke about making ooc headcanon stuff canon and it always makes me uncomfortable lol

[kucherovv]

college summer break is kind of just school assigned rumination time. like enjoy 4 months off to do fuckall and spend hours thinking about your trauma

[certifiedstarrr]

"i'll beat her bitch ass." - c.s

femvolleyballplayer!y/n x chris

warnings: cursing, crying, intentional lowercase, no grammar used (intentional), past injury, use of y/n (sorry?)

summary: it’s the semi-finals of the biggest volleyball tournament of the year and y/n feeling great at first but 2 people who were supposed to be there didn’t show upーthen after her game she gets the worst news of her life. will it affect her gameplay for the tournament?

this is set in some random ass au that i can’t really explain😭😭

p.s sorry to people named amelia, no hate to y’all !💗

don’t like don’t read !!

find some other shit to do.

not proofread (a bitch don’t got no time for that shit)

this is my work and i do not approve of plagiarism in any way. i also do not approve of reposting my work onto other apps or anything of the idea. SSTVRNIOLOO 2024.

a/n: HEYY so this is your surprise fic ive been working onnnn ~ this could be a series but idk yet 🤷🏾‍♀️ also my laptop stopped working so i don’t have the option of typing anymore, so it’ll be on my phone or ipad. (mostly ipad though) 💔

wc: 1.1k

happy reading loviess !

ೃ༄

waking up feeling great, but then remembering about my volleyball game in the semi-finals, i felt nervous. i hop out my bed and start walking to my bathroom.

heading over to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face and do my daily skincare.

i grab my jersey from a hanger in my closet, closing the closet door after equipping the clothing item i needed.

bringing the jersey to my head, pulling it over my head, and the jesey laying tight on my torso. the red and blue complemented each other well and suited my natural complexion.

seizing my knee pads, arm sleeves, and leg brace and shoving them into my sports bag. i anxiously fumble with the zipper; failing many times to zip it up but succeeding after attempt six.

going down my steps, i pull out my phone and go to me and chris' texts.

y/n

hey baby are you almost here?

read: 2:03pm

chris💗

yeah ill be there in 5

read: 2:04pm

y/n

alright see you soon baby💕

read: 2:05pm

i shove my phone back into my sports bag and wait for my boyfriend to pick me up.

ೃ༄

i look around in the crowd; searching for the two people who said they’d be here and wouldn’t miss it for the worldーmy parents who are fucking liars.

it was the semi-finals of the biggest college volleyball tournament of the year and i was excited.

until i saw two empty chairs waiting to filled by no one. but i saw my friends and my biggest supporterーmy boyfriend of two years: chris. he was there for every game, there to pick me up from practice; whatever i needed. i loved him more than anything.

the stadium was fullーspecifically 23,000 people. it was sold out and i see a sea of people wearing our school colors: red and blue.

everybody was here: from alumni, parents, and students. i was a tiny bit nervous because i’d never seen so many people come to watch our school play.

but after all, it was the semi-finals.

i scanned and searched the crowd and found the triplets, and my friends: lauren and angelina.

i met up with my teammates at the bench and we went over our game plan. i look over at the opposing team and see my biggest rival.

amelia. the little fucking bitch that plays foul. the snarkiest grin decorating her stupid face.

last season she almost permanently injured me over one pre-season gameーi was hospitalized for 3 fucking months and she just laughed about it and acted like she didnt know what i was talking about. that bitch could have injured me so badly that i coulda been kept in the hospital longer, or permently.

i scanned the front row and once i found him, chris doing our secret messageーblowing a kissーwhich means “you got this, i love you, and kill their asses”.

doing our team chant and reviewing our lineup. my position was spiker; specifically outside hitter. so that means i was main hitter: who got most of the sets.

meghan; my setterーwho was also one of my best friends, did our secret handshake and communicated with hand gestures that the opposing team doesn't know: which in turn gives us the opportunity to fix a plan during the game.

ೃ༄

everyone was set in their correct position and the sea of people went silent. it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. the first whistle blew and i locked in.

it’s you, the ball, and your teammates. nothing else matters right now.

the first serve of game and its already a long rally.

the perfect set comes from meghanーdirectly to me,

i spike the volleyball and the only sound heard in whole the stadium was the loud smack of my palm hitting the ball straight down to the floor on the opponent's side.

it went to amelia and she dove for it but missed.

i let out a little giggle as her face twisted into an furious one. i loved pissing her offーand each time i do, its payback for her injuring me.

ೃ༄

whilst jumping to block a deep incoming set dump, lorelai; one of our team's middle blockers, landed wrong on her ankle and broke it.

she was such a good blocker and which now she had to exit the game due to her ankle, left me in a state of disappointment.

another one of our other middle blockers, yasmine, traded spots for lorelai. she wasnt as good but still played well and got the job done.

i look over at the crowd and see the triplets and my two friends holding a banner that spelled out "let's go y/n". i cheesed at the bannerーbut still with a stupidly wide grin on my face.

ೃ༄

it was down to the final minute of the game and the crowd was on their feet.

i was serving. and hell, i was scared i was gonna mess it all up. my jump-serve was excellent, but i was in shambles when it came to the final seconds of a game; even if i wasnt playing.

throwing the ball into the air as the sea of people that gaped at my every move. running after it and jumping in the air and cocking my arm backーswinging it at the ball, hitting it far left to a weaker player on the opposing team.

scoring an ace,

"all ace !!"

my team cheered. they lost. fuck you amelia.

ೃ༄

amelia scoffed, flipping me off and walking over, slapping me over apparently "cheating". also telling me that chris didnt love me and i was just a good fuck.

and that's where i dont play.

shits about to go down.

"i'll beat her bitch-ass."

extra: guys i felt so much relief releasing your surpise fic <33

also dont play wit y/nnnnnnnn she gon beat amelia's ass

now if i wake up to an activity page of who-knows-how-many thingies its better than christmas morning ~ i have a angsty chris fic sitting in my drafts and im trying to start it but ive no motivation to start writing, and i just realized anna: (@worldlxvlys), riyah (@hoesformatt), and grace (@lacysturniolo) follow me. tysm for reading !! sorry im a giant yapper

xoxo, riri !

taglist: 🏷 @lovingmattysposts @elliesturniolo1 @elliewrites1 @sturnsbitch @luvmxtt @vanteguccir @novasturniolo03 @tyjna6 @sturnlova @sturniolo-lover1317 @patscorner

(comment here to be on my taglist !)

[romanestuffsposts]

hi love your writing so much and you seem so sweet :) would you feel comfortable writing about reader who has to wear pull-ups and feels embarrassed about it but her daddies comfort her and make her feel better about it? maybe she even tries to take them off or hide them but daddies explain it’s ok that she needs to wear them? as someone who struggles with incontinence due to a health issue ive been very embarrassed in the past. thank you sm!

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much for this sweet request! I'm so sorry something bad happened and that it made you feel that way! I really hope you're doing better now <3

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : pulls up, reassurance, cuddles, pet names, teasing, bath time, changing time

Pairings : daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We love you the way you are

****

"stop moving" your Daddy groans. He grabs your little toes and keeps them in his strong hand so he can paint your toenails without being kicked.

You giggle because it's so funny to annoy him. It's been ten minutes and he only paints two nails. He's being really careful so he doesn't exceed.

His tongue even stick out of his lips every once in a while. Just like you when you're oncentrate on something really important for you. So the fact that he sticks his tongue out make you blush.

"if Daddy doesn't hurry up with your little nails we'll have to change the water of your bath because it's gonna be colder than the ice" Your Papa jokes as he leans against the armrest, where your head is resting

You laugh at his teasing while your Daddy rolls his eyes "i'm not that slow" he says "and why did you already prepared her bath ? You knew it'll take me time to do that" he complains, pointing at your toenails.

"how should i know it'll take you so much time to do such a simple thing. It takes me only ten minutes" he shurgs, winking down at you.

You grin up at your Papa and bite your lower lip as you look back down at your Daddy "get out" your Daddy sternly says. Your eyes widen because you thought he was serious but when you hear your Papa laughing behind you, your face relax.

"want me to finish ?" He asks, nodding at your Daddy's hand who's painting now your third nail. "No, I wanna do it" he mumbles as he frowns down because he tries to concentrate and everyone is distracting him.

"Okay" Your Papa laughs "We'll just add hot water in her bath when you're done" He leaves the living room to go in the kitchen to finish the dishes while your Daddy start the fourth nail.

You watch him struggling but still succeeding and after minutes, almost one hour, he's finally done.

He breathes out a long breath and sits back up "here. Done’’ he smiles satisfied as he looks down at his work ‘´we just have to wait some minutes so the last nails can dry and then, bath time’’ he winks.

Like he said, after some minutes he checks if it’s dry and since he got up and lifts you up in his arms, you assume your nails were ready.

He walks upstairs and sits you on the counter of the sink making you grimace at the uncomfortable things that’s in your pants now.

See the things is, you were having such a good time in the couch with your Daddies and then with only your Daddy that you didn’t wanted to move nor disturbing him. You really thought you could hold on until he’s done but you forget he’s much more slower than your Papa..

Your Daddy starts to undress you, he removes your shirt, he lets your hair falls down and then he lifts you up so he can grab your pants and panties.

He stops his movements and looks down ‘´oh’’ was his only reaction.

You look down, ashamed, and wait for him to yell at you or showing you how annoyed he is because of you.

But the only thing he does is kneeling Infront of you and stroking your cheek with his thumb ‘’look at me baby girl’’ he softly say

Your bright eyes meet his beautiful one. His gaze is soft and loving, the opposite of what you expected.

‘’It’s okay’’ he smiles as he tilts his head ‘’it happens sometimes, you don’t need to be ashamed of it’’ he kisses your nose ‘’we’ll just clean you before you bath and after we’ll put something that will help you if it happens again today, alright ?’´ he stands up and lifts you up so you would sit on the changing table

‘’No’ you pout as you shake your legs ‘’don wanna pulls up’’ you whine.

‘’baby doll’’ he sighs, he rests his hands on each side of you and looks at you deep in the eyes ‘’nothing will change, you would just wear those pulls up instead of your panties but nothing else will change’´ he drops his forehead against yours ‘’we will not find you disgusting or weird because you need it. You’re still our pretty, joyful and innocent little princess’’

You smile a little through your discomfort and nod your head. You let your Daddy cleans you, his soft voice that’s reassuring you each time he sees you wiggling on the table or his gentle caresses on your belly helped you getting through that.

After your bath, he changed you into your pulls up, even tho you tried to negotiate with him to not put it on you -you obviously failed- and then walked with you, hands in hands , downstairs.

He brings you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter so you can be near your Papa who’s cooking ‘’how is my big girl going ?’’ He asks with a soft smile as he peers at you.

You groan because you’re not happy with the fact that you have to wear a pulls up and kick your heels in the cupboard underneath you

‘’Hey! None of that here’’ your Daddy warns as he points at you.

You let out a crying whine before looking away. They both know you have trouble accepting the fact that sometimes you need pulls up or a bottle or a paci for sleeping but who cares ? They find it adorable and love preparing it for you.

After eating, you quickly and discreetly disappeared to the bathroom, you did what you had to do in there and then come back down immediately. They don’t say a thing because they thought you were at the toilet when in fact… you were doing something else.

When the time for changing you came, you didn’t say a thing which surprised both of your Daddies. They walked with you upstairs -since they’re gonna put you to bed right after, they’re both there- and when your Daddy went to grab a pull up while your Papa undressed you, he noticed something was wrong

‘’Buck ?’´ He calls

‘’Mh ?’’ Bucky answers as he removes your pull up.

You bite your lower lip.

‘’Where did you put the pulls up box ?’’ He asks after checking each cupboard.

‘’Where it usually is’’ Bucky chuckles, still looking down as he’s cleaning you.

‘’Yea, well it’s not there’’

Bucky frowns and looks up at his husband ‘’you sure ?’’ This one nod.

Both of them look down at you and from the moon on your face, they both know immediately.

‘’Little one ?’’ Your Daddy says. You’re not even looking in their eyes, it’s so obvious now, more than before.

‘’What did you do ?’´ he asks, both is his hand resting on your hip

‘’Nothin’ ´’

He raised an eyebrow making you wanting to look away

‘’Didn’t do anythin!’’ You shake your head ‘’wanted to pee but then I saw the pull up sumping by the window’’ you say playing with your fingers.

‘’try again’’ your Daddy sternly says

Your face drops and you look down, giving them the answer they were waiting ‘’now tell us where it is’’

‘’Under ‘m bed’’ you mumble.

Your papa goes get it and comes back with the box on his hands ‘’here’’ he gives one to Bucky

Your Daddy changed you while you stay completely quiet, your eyes fixed on your fingers.

‘’Look at us, please’’ your Papa grabs your hand and you look up at him, you see your Daddy standing beside him

‘’There’s nothing wrong with needing a pull up, sweetie. It’s just a plus, this is not for degrading you or making you feel guilty because you can’t hold it’’ he tilts his head

‘’We love you’’ your daddy says ‘’we love every aspect of you, no matter what it is. We love all of the things that make you yourself, even that’s

‘’Even that’’ your Papa repeats ‘’there’s nothing you need to be ashamed of when it comes to us’’

‘´Yeah, you’re so weird that we’re used to it now. Nothing shock is anymore’ your Daddy teases you making you giggle, just like he wanted.

‘’Now about we read a wonderful story before closing those beautiful eyes of yours ?’’ Your Papa proposes.

You nod and let him carrying you to the bedroom. You start rubbing your eyes as soon as your neck touches the mattress. Your Daddy clicked his tongue in his mouth and removes your hands, he kisses your eyes softly before laying beside you

He hates when you’re too agressive with your eyes.

As soon as the caring and loving voice of your Papa is heard, your mind is softly slipping away.

All worries with your need forgotten for the night in your Daddies bed, under the protection of their loves and their arms.

[whumpitisthen]

I don't know if you take a request!

But, can you write about Whumpee with Stockholm Syndrome who went back to Whumper after finally escaped for a month?

I take requests yes but you must know it takes me four years to come up with a single draft for anything so be prepared to wait an indefinite amount of time!! I tried to keep it short and idk if ive succeeded!! Here you go!!

No Longer a Lie

Their goodbye was the same as a soldier’s going off to war. He may never return, and even if he does, he would return a different man. A sombre, yet loving valediction.

Her smile is watery and proud. The kind, thoughtful, caring old lady that found him that day and took him in believes that he is going home today. He had told her his parents have finally arranged everything ready for him to return. He had explained that they didn't expect him to suddenly show up in their life after so many years again, that they lived abroad and needed time to get his papers in order, that they cannot wait to see him again. She believes he is going to heal and find himself, and be safe under the care of his family.

He was lying. He doesn't have a family. He had lied to this sweet, innocent lady so she would not try to stop him from what he is about to do. She thinks she saved him, and that he is going home. To some extent, that is true.

She packed him a backpack full of snacks, spare clothes, even some money. She bought him new clothes to wear. She walked him to the train station, though her rickety hips barely allowed her to stay standing long enough. She watched him get on the train and waved at him all the way up until they could no longer see each other through the window as the platform grew further and further away.

He only cried once he was sure she could not see.

He retraces every step he took a month prior to this day. He minds the gap, turns every corner. He recognises a flower shop in the suburbs. The large, tilted tree in the park. A large graffiti under the cement bridge is his next sign that he is going the right direction.

Soon, the houses become overwhelmingly familiar. A few more blocks, and he will be there. His legs ache, the new, cheap shoes he got from her rub at his heels with every step, bloodying the rough fabric. He could not stop his journey if he wanted. He feels his very heart dragging him along on a leash, back to where he left a month ago, back to where he escaped.

There it is. A secluded house at the edge of town, fenced off with barbed wire and kept in perfect condition. His soles burn, but his pace only quickens. He knows those chain links. He knows those barred windows. He knows that godforsaken garage door. He is home. He made it.

Oh, she would have never let him go if he told her that he considered this prison his home.

Reaching the outer gate, the intimate feeling of fear choking him arises like an old friend. The last time he saw this place from the outside he only got to for a moment in his haste. A glance over his shoulder in the middle of the night, and then he was gone like a ghost. He wonders what all has changed. He doubts anything has.

He hesitates. They will be angry at him, he's sure. So, so angry. He left without warning, without saying anything. To think he thought he could leave without repercussions instead of owning up to his mistake and suffering the consequences. Now, here he is thirty days later, crawling back on trembling legs, in strange clothing and some fat under his skin to beg for forgiveness. He is the most ungrateful, pathetic creature he can imagine. He's sure he will be told as much once the door opens.

He steels himself and presses the bell. It goes off twice in quick succession thanks to his twitchy fingers. He cannot tell if the overwhelming nerves strangling him are of worry or excitement.

He has been away for too long, trying to function in a place he is no longer meant for. He craves this hell like one would their heaven. He knows it's wrong, he knows he could leave right now and go back to the old lady that took care of him like her own son and he could relearn how to be a person and it would all be okay. He rationalises that it's far too late for that.

The ten seconds that pass in silence after the bell chimes are agony spreading over an eternity. His fingers cramp with how fiercely he fists them to his palm. Eventually, however, the entrance opens, and out steps the devil himself.

He stops on the porch, pausing to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him, but he then quickly crosses the distance between the two of them to jerk the gate open and embrace him before his lost darling could even rant off his apology that he has been writing in his head ever since he first took a step outside of this house.

They stand in silence for a long minute.

This moment feels absolutely perfect. Better than he ever expected it to feel; just the most idyllic scene that goes exactly as he had dreamed it would. The hug feels better than he had imagined, so warm and tight and all-encompassing. His red nose finds its way into the crook of the man's neck, nestling in there. He breathes in deep, taking in the smell of comfort, of the wonderfully known and expected; the familiarity.

“I’ve told you so many times. You do not belong out there anymore.”

In reality, what he had experienced with his freedom was not joy, but layers upon layers of anxiety. Everything was new, everything was unusual, everything was terrifying. What he had grown so used to during his years in this house he threw away in blind greed, wanting more from life than the perfect world his owner had made for him.

At first the freedom was elating. Long forgotten concepts like privacy and control had returned and excited him. But then his new circumstances became tiring. One or two core differences became dozens of alien rules he had to rememorise. Then came shame at experiencing such trouble with something that is meant to be no issue at all for anyone; anyone but him. Normal people don't expect perfect obedience in return for tolerance. Normal people don't have to ask for permission to eat when a plate is put in front of them. Normal people don't have to keep their owners content. Normal people aren't scared of their owners. Normal people don't have owners. These are all things he had to get used to, among the sea of other more obscure examples.

The final straw was his curse of worthlessness. He felt he did not deserve any of this. He ran away. He broke so many rules. He was having awful trouble with his new rules. He was ungrateful. And yet, the old lady only showed kindness and care. No punishments, no threats, not even any mocking or insults. Just relentless, angelic forgiveness. She would not hurt him even when he offered, even when he had asked. He could not handle this; he felt like he was going to go insane with guilt.

His owner had told him this countless times, but only now does he truly understand what he had meant, — the complicated, scary life of a free person just isn't suited for him. Not anymore. He is different. He cannot be left alone for long. He cannot function without clear cut rules, routine or punishments. He doesn't think like everyone else. Above everything, what was killing him every day the most was yearning for his owner. He needs his owner. He cannot be away from him, he depends on him too much. He missed him every day, feeling dumber and dumber each day for being so cowardly.

But now, now he is here again, in his owner's capable hands. Everything will make sense again, all his mistakes will be fixed and he can spend the rest of his life atoning for his naïve stupidity. He will take being locked up in this birdcage for the rest of his life. He will take the sharp, unending burn of punishments each time he slips up. He will take it all without a word if that's what his owner wants. He missed him more than should be possible. He cries. He is so happy.

His relief is crushed as soon as the door locks behind him, and he is once again all alone with the man. His freshly washed hair is grabbed and he is dragged all the way down to the source of all of his nightmares, sent to the floor viciously. His crying turns desperate. He is barely left time to gasp out a plea before he is grabbed again and tied up much too tightly, rope burning over old, thick scarring along his wrists. His cries are muffled with a gag, and his tears are soaked up with a blindfold.

He becomes inconsolable then. He knew this would happen, he knew he would be punished, he knows he deserves it — but this is all too sudden, juxtaposed horribly by the tenderness of that hug that he waited a month for and needed more than he ever realised. Now it's like his owner is a different man, mercilessly restraining him and not saying a word, just like when he is truly furious. He didn't seem angry at all before. His owner seemed as relieved as he did.

He can tell he is dropped off in the middle of the basement by how cold it is and how his skin catches on the drain under him. He is pulled to kneel, and while he tries his best to obey every wordless order, his limbs have become useless jelly, flowing in all the wrong directions.

The punishment is severe. So severe that he is certain he won't survive it. The first to break are his legs. He might not ever be able to walk again, much less run away from consequences. His arms are wrenched behind and up until his shoulders pop, rendering all his limbs useless. They are left there like that, hanging off him like parasites that feed on his agony. He is beaten with something heavy, made of iron. That breaks several more bones, his ribs mostly. His screams start dying down then, not for a lack of trying. The gag muffles every apology he sobs into it, ensuring he will only be able to say sorry once his owner has decided he is truly sorry.

He is reduced to a bag of flesh to be abused. He cannot fight any of it, he cannot see any of it and he cannot stop any of it. He has never felt so much like an object before in his life, not with the old lady, not prior escaping, not prior to being caught. Still, he never even thinks about regretting coming back. He never holds anything against his master, he never holds a grudge or resentment. He deserves this for disobeying him, and his owner deserves his pain as compensation. He deserves this, he deserves this, please, please let him say he deserves all of it and see how he regrets running. He needs to say it, he needs this to end, he wants nothing more than to grovel at the man's feet and sob over and over how worthless he is and how he will never ever try anything like this again.

The only way this can end is if he is forgiven, but he cannot be forgiven until he has apologised.

The blindfold is never removed, not like his bindings and the gag. This distresses him greatly even as he is cuddled in his owner's arms once again, exhausted. The blindfold only ever comes out for the worst of his mistakes. When his master is angry with him. When a simple slap or two or a couple days without food isn't enough. The fact that it is still on even hours after he was finally allowed to beg for forgiveness — he just cannot relax. He supposes that's probably the reason why it's still on. He can’t just forget about what he did so easily with one round of torment. He hopes it will be taken off soon, but at the same time, he has no hope for it coming off in the coming days.

He doesn't even know if he has suffered enough yet. This small thing could very well signal that he will be atoning for this transgression for up to another month; just as long as he had spent away from here. The thought terrifies him enough to sob brokenly into his owner's chest, huddled up against him as he is. He’s rewarded with a light pet. He whispers a thank you.

The man pauses at that, causing his body to tense in preparation of more pain. Wonderfully, however, all that comes is more gentleness, a hand that has hurt him so many times now digging down to the roots of his hair and scratching in a pleasant rhythm. He has never been more thankful. The smallest of kindnesses from his owner are enough for him to forget all about the month of constant mercy from the old lady that took care of him unconditionally. Something must be wrong with him. He doesn't think about that for too long.

“I am so glad you came back,” — his master murmurs.

No one loves him like his master loves him. The old lady… was stupid. She was an idiot. Who would take in a stranger off the street, half-dead, and spoil him like she did? That's moronic. Her kindness — it doesn't matter. Any grain of sweetness from this man means more than a whole year of hers. He loves him. She was just a dumb old lady.

He feels awful for thinking this. His brain is at battle with his heart, trying to convince himself that this is what he is meant to be, that this is right, while feeling a dark emptiness building in his lungs.

Later, once his body is no longer useless and he can do as he is told, he does so. When he is told to clean, he cleans. When he is told to stay still, he stays still. When he is told to hold his breath, he holds his breath. Neither of them mention it. His owner doesn't tease him for falling back into old habits so soon. He doesn't even think to resist or think for himself. This is their norm. Nothing out of the ordinary. How it is supposed to be. Every night, he tells himself he is happy and loved. He feels his owner's arms around him, holding him close, pushing on his dark, painful bruises and he thanks him for allowing him to stay. His master tells him he loves him, and he smiles, saying the same thing.

And he means it.

~

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @morning-star-whump @whumprince

[nerves-nebula]

one thing i find mildly embarrassing (not in the normal sense of the word but w/e) is my complete disconnect from basically any history or culture or ancestry i could've had? this comes up sometimes when i write characters, like for example, i'm still developing the Hanheppi religion and one thing ive been thinking about is how important ancestry is in some religions.

I had a religious architecture class a while back and we watched some videos of these indigenous Australian people doing some collaborative art and the mother was talking to the kid, explaining every step of the lineage on the art piece they were working on and it was really wonderful. And in a lot of my research & other stuff with religion I keep coming across this idea of ancestry and heritage and community and how important that shit can be but. basically.

it keeps reminding me that my characters, especially the hanheppi ones, should probably have some sort of connection to the past? Like, probably a pretty significant one? Hanheppi people are humans, they're supposed to be raised in a culture that values their history and lineage. its supposed to be very communal. but because I've never really experienced that I often forget to include it or mention it and its like. hhhah.

i don't? know? how to do that. I don't know what its like for your community to be an important part of your identity, i don't even know what it's like for your extended or immediate family to be an important part of your identity. my parents succeeded in making me feel completely disconnected from everything i could possibly have built community on. i'm uninterested into looking into where i came from because frankly it sounds terrible. it sounds like people who wouldn't accept me anyway, so i have no interest in that. I live in my head the way I always have. but it does leave me kind of empty. and i feel like it leaves my characters pretty empty too, especially the ones who are supposed to be very invested in their communities.

oh well :p

[mihai-florescu]

Can u explain to me the significance of anzu. If u wanna

Signed, someone that only knows of her as the self insert protag and wasn t aware she s somehow very important (i dont go here but i like hearin u talk about it)

Yes! Anzu is a character in her own right with a full backstory that expands beyond enstars actually, in ensemble girls, to the point where it makes me wonder at what point they decided to make enstars to show what she's been up to after leaving kimisaki (the school in engirls. There she is called angie, both angie and anzu are references to the pronounciation of the game titles themselves). She's also the older sister of the protagonist of engirls, a male transfer student from yumenosaki into kimisaki (the plot of engirls takes place in enstars 2 era, so her brother is actually still at yumenosaki during the first year of enstars, he's in the general course though, not the idol one).

The reason Anzu transfered is after a failed revolution she was part of in kimisaki. In that game she is a sort of ghost haunting the narrative, where a lot of characters still mention her (and compare iirc?) to her younger brother. I cant speak much of how this impacts him, ive only read a limited number of engirls stories, mostly ones from before he transferred. Heard the game ends with a timeloop he has to break, so im very curious to one day find a translation for That. So while that's happening over at kimisaki, but let's get back to enstars, where anzu gets another chance at a successful revolution and falls in love with idols in the process. Her presence and trickstars revolution solidifies that things are changing from the war into a hopeful future, the student council arent undefeatable, and there are still new characters that can appear and impact the flow of the story.

When trickstar were broken up by fine she stays and helps in the DDD in a way where, without her, trickstars revolution wouldnt have succeeded. She puts on a mask and joins on stage when the only other member left in the unit was subaru, and the minimum number of people to be qualified to perform is 2. She calls people from her old school in the crowd, amd her brother calls general course students, whose support for her trickstar lead to winning the first live against knights and make way for them to progress to the finals. In the end during the DDD finale it's her vote that makes the difference, going into overtime and making trickstar win. She's a regular person, not a genius, not even an idol, who had impacted the course of events time and time again until the end. She supported Trickstar's revolution, joined them on stage as support, i'd say she is the glue of the unit that helped keep it floating, made it a place to return to. On a grander scale, Anzu is a character who gets a second chance at a successful revolution that ends in happiness, something she had failed at kimisaki. Trickstar are the miracle that changes yumenosaki, but that wouldnt have been possible without anzu's support. Their 5th member.

A critique i see sometimes is that everyone ends up liking her for no reason but...thats not true? Many characters welcome her as a breath of fresh air and a needed new perspective, but others are aprehensive and untrusting in the beginning, it's not like her presence alone magically fixes everything as a deus ex machina or anything, she's actively working hard, to the point where she jeopardizes her own health in the process. And it's also not like she acts the same with all idols either, or doesnt have her own personality and input, she directly impacts their character arcs through her treatment, like in kaoru's case comes to mind first.

This is for ! era at least. I feel more confident talking about that one than !!, where she is part of the P association and experiences hardships and is undermined there, but i am not the person to talk about that as i dont feel like my knowledge of her role there is nearly good enough.

[cptnbeefheart]

now that ABOM issue 1 is published, i can post my contribution :] please do not repost unless you clearly credit me!!

here’s an obnoxious explanation of all my choices that is probably way too much information :

I find the most interesting aspect of the monkees to be their era of deconstructing the image that TV & studio execs had so carefully crafted. in the process of preserving this image, these execs had created somewhat palatable characters, caricatur-izing (sorry.) elements of the casts’ real personalities. the artists themselves were given an illusion of control over their brand, rarely getting the opportunity to publish the art that they made themselves.

ANYWAY.. tying this all into my piece .. i wanted to make something dedicated to frustrations felt by all members of the monkees. Peter is in the front, making strides toward the edge of the chessboard; the monkeemobile flooring it to stand in his way. I wanted the image of a monkee crushing something that was a major symbol in the show itself. what’s more iconic than the monkee mobile itself ?! my hope is that this shows autonomy on peters part, his true self contradicting this false image created by execs-- no longer a pawn for them! of course peter was the first to quit, which is why he is taking the lead. Mike was next, buying himself out of his contract in order to publish his own music and take control of his artistic career. even throughout the brainstorming process for this, i knew i wanted to put mike in his flashy (but fabulous) nudie suit. to me its such a foreshadowing of what he would go on to do in his solo career and with the first national band. i had to CONTAIN MYSELF because i didnt want mike to have a whole bunch of detail and not fit in with the rest of the subjects.. Mike is looking straight toward the audience, realizing he would like to pursue creative projects that would not be possible working with the monkees™ and everything that they symbolize. Davy looks for the edge of the chessboard, contemplating whether or not he should leave. Micky, wearing his outfit from Head (1968), holds a remote control. This is all in reference to the imagery seen in the film; he finally has the option to change the channels for himself. I actually used a screenshot from the movie to get his face & hair right. I think in the 2 years filming the show micky started embracing his curls, but the only references from a upward angle were when he was straightening his hair !!!! I ended up using the scene where he blows up the Coke machine, a satisfied smirk on his face. what an appropriate scene. finally the chessboard, white rabbits & wind up toys. I don’t think I really need to explain that aside from mentioning that the image of the wind-ups is from 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee (1969). I think this was the last official monkees thing Peter was in (outside of future reunion tours). The television special echos the themes already present in Head, so i felt like it would be a nice addition. And it shows the monkees as pawns versus having full autonomy. WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY LAST POINT ONE MORE THING ITS QUICK I PROMMY okay perpective ! I wanted to do an upward shot because First of all its fun but more importantly . it shows the cast themselves have outgrown their characters :] now who knows if ive succeeded in any of the things i attempted but at least i had fun :] and feeling like charlie iasip pepe silvia is healthy every once in a while...

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Whumptober Days 2 and 3

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife’s in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you.”

~~~

Click. Click. Click click click click--

The nurse was probably going to take the PCA pump away at this rate. It wasn't like he thought the medication was endlessly draining into his IV at every button press, the nurse at the time was very clear that it was a limited dosage for a limited time. He didn't even get that much out of the analgesia, it almost made him feel worse before it did any improvement. 

But as his vision swam, skewed first by pain, then sedation, all on top of the wobbly uncertainty of having to focus from one side, something about the sound was satisfying. It also gave that hand something to do that wasn't scratching at or under the bandages tight on the right side of his face.

Click click click--

The door made its own click as it opened, and Zadkiel swung his head over to see who it was before flinching back so hard the bed jolted with him.

Why the fuck--

“Zack?”

…he should have expected it to be his father. And perhaps the revelation ought to have made him relax. Instead he tried at the button again,  only to frown and hold it up to his eye to examine.

Ezekiel sat on the right side of the bed, which may well have been back on the other side of the wall for all the visibility it gave. Zadkiel didn't know if he was more annoyed with the possibility that his father couldn't be arsed to come on the side he could be seen, or that he was putting it on Zadkiel to make the effort. “Does it hurt? Should I get someone?”

“No.” The button was stuck, or loose, or something. He tried tapping at it harder to dislodge it and only succeeded in cracking the plastic.

“Are you sure? I can--”

“It's fine.” It wasn't fine. He broke the stupid thing. He dropped it onto the scratchy blanket and stared up at the fuzzy lines on the ceiling. The heart monitor was still on an uptick from Ezekiel's arrival, alarming annoyingly. He wondered if a nurse would mute it for him if he paged to ask.

His father cleared his throat. “If you're sure you're fine, some investigators have called ahead to speak to you.”

“Speak to me?” He finally turned his head, only to focus on the wallpaper patterns instead as just looking at him made his chest tight. “About what?”

“About---it's better if they explain.” There wasn't even an attempt to meet Zadkiel's eye.

The heart monitor got even louder. “Well I'm not speaking to them.”

“Zack--”

“No. I don't even care. Ephraim can go fuck himself and so can--”

The door opened and they both glanced to see a nurse hurry in, trailing two men with badges behind her. She went straight to the monitor with a brief introduction of the investigators while they stood at the foot of the bed.

“Is he ready to speak with us?” One asked Ezekiel.

Zadkiel didn't give him a chance to reply. “Not happening. Bye now.”

“It's just a few questions,” the other tried to say reassuringly. 

The nurse tsked, examining the damaged PCA unit. “You should have given our team the heads up then, his current medications have him in no state.”

“You gave him more drugs?” The response was disbelieving.

Zadkiel blinked. “More?”

“We were told you were under the influence on arrival to the emergency department.”

“Under the-- I don't do drugs?”

The first investigator cocked an eyebrow. “So you're saying you were completely sober?”

“I--” His throat clicked and he shut his mouth, trying to process and not wanting to bother anyway. The silence was already nauseating.

“Well? The other party had reason to believe you had taken something.”

“Ephraim could have been mistaken,” Ezekiel tried, but Zadkiel had to cut him off. Had to speak before the words in his throat turned to bile.

“I had a drink or a few, I was out with friends.” Fair weather friends anyway, he didn't think they'd be keen on being sought out for bullshit like this. “What of it? I wasn't drunk.”

The nurse muttered something under her breath before shaking her head and placing a gently hand on his shoulder. “That was then, this is now.” She turned to the investigators. “Are you done? He needs his rest and none of this sounds too urgent to wait on.”

“Surely he can answer a few more--”

“I said no to start with! Piss off already.” His hands were shaky and his eyes--eye, stung. The spot where his right eye used to be didn't sting so much as burn, trying to match the other in forming tears from something that his uncle had either destroyed in the altercation being discussed or that had to be removed with the rest of the mess left behind. Even under the haze of anesthesia he felt it, like a twist of a knife. He shut the eye that remained and dug the heel of his palm into it, trying to alleviate the pressure set to crack his skull.

“Fine. You got your chance to cooperate. Zadkiel Erminio Chayyim, you are under arrest.”

“What?” 

A new click this time, and coldness around the wrist of the arm almost as torn up as the right side of his face.

His hand dropped just enough to open his fingers and gawk as the investigator closed the other end of the handcuffs around the railing of the hospital bed.

“This has got to be a mistake! Let me call Ephraim, he can--”

Ezekiel's stammering was cut off sharply. “He came down to press the charges this morning. Your boy did a real number on him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Zadkiel was breathing so hard it felt like he would either throw up or pass out. “Look at me! I should be pressing charges--”

“Self defense isn't a crime.” The investigator turned to face the nurse, who'd frozen in place while she tried to keep up with what was happening. “You'll have to let us know if he moves rooms, or when to collect him at discharge. We want no chance of flight risk.”

“This has to be a misunderstanding,” Ezekiel insisted, struggling to come up with some more reasonable explanation. “It was-was just an argument, a bad one, no one--”

“Get out.”

All eyes turned to Zadkiel. His fingers had closed again and he was pressing down as though he was trying to rid himself of that eye as well. “I'm not going anywhere, clearly, so just get the hell out of my room.”

“Please, just let me try to fix--”

“I said get the fuck out already!”

The nurse finally unfroze and proceeded to usher all visitors out of the room, promising to come back and do something about the cuffs before shutting the door.

Zadkiel stared up at the ceiling, tears leaking down his cheek on one side while the other continued to ache endlessly. “Self defense” and “just an argument”? Why was he forced to bother with honesty when no one listened? No, when no one had the sense to see and acknowledge what was right in front of them?

He couldn't turn over easily between the handcuffs and all the cuts and scrapes on his arm, so he wound up tugging a pillow into his good arm from under him. He held it over his face, blinding himself to the world, and promptly started to scream.

[batemanofficial]

word vomit as i try to parse a work frustration. stand by

so since ive been back to work i'm having a bit of an issue with one of the sous chefs - basically he's new to expoing and gets really nervous when we're in the weeds, and instead of focusing on calling the tickets correctly (ahem.) he tries to "help" me with my dishes, often without explaining to me what he's doing or how this will affect my all-day totals. and as you can imagine this makes me a little insane! i appreciate that he's trying to help keep ticket times down, but on the other hand: oh my god i need him to fuck off entirely and do his mf job and let me do mine. correctly, perferably, but im open to a solid c+ in accuracy if that's all he's feeling up to at this point.

so given that, we had a particularly busy service a couple of weeks ago and he was being particularly invasive vis-à-vis starting and finishing dishes without telling me, and at one point i was standing directly behind him holding a frying pan full of smoking clarified butter while he was standing directly in front of my hot pan tray. so i told him "hey man, you need to move." those were my exact words. verbatim. but apparently he did not see the giant pan full of boiling fluid in my hands and thought i was just telling him to fuck off? i guess? because he got his feelings hurt and told our executive chef about it, who has proceeded to dance around the issue to me and only vaguely indicate that the sous is trying to help and that we should just all get along. which if you know me at all you know that succeeded in doing little else besides pissing me off. so today another, higher ranking sous pulled me aside and told me that the ec is going to tell me that my ticket times have been too high, and that she knows it's because of the weird dynamic between me and The Meddler and basically that im not in trouble as far as she's concerned, but that the ec is going to be all mealymouthed about it and tell me to let The Meddler do his meddling. and i appreciate the warning from her 1000% but im debating whether or not to kind of give the ec a piece of my mind about all this, because its making me feel insane. like apparently the meddler is saying in his weekly diagnostic emails that my ticket times are too high, but he won't say that to my face, which makes me want to take a filet from the fridge and put it in my mouth and shake ir really hard like a dog trying to kill a squirrel to be completely transparent.

this is a completely separate discussion but i have made my peace with the fact that im just not a very empathetic person, but i cannot stand working in a place where i feel like i'll be told im not being a team player if i try to take charge of what i'm working on and not let other people take the lead on my station. like i know im very territorial when it comes to that kind of thing, im an only child so i don't play well with others, im well aware of that. however, i don't think standing around and not telling people when they're doing something that's hampering the effectiveness of the team is going to get us anywhere!! i'd much rather be told "hey, hurry the fuck up and plate that" than have to wonder what i'm doing wrong because two out of three of my direct superiors have little bitch disease. and on the flip side i want to be able to say "hey man, i'll finish my tickets if you'll get back to expo and take a minute to figure out an (accurate) all day, and then delegate from there." without feeling like the sous is gonna get the vapors about it and tell the ec that im harshing his vibe and now his feewings awe huwt 🥺. because quite frankly i don't care if i hurt his feelings, especially not if he's doing something that's throwing everybody off and making our ticket time problem worse. im sorry but that's the only way i know how to put it. they have little bitch disease. and it's terminal.

i feel like i need to tell the ec all of that so that he'll get his head out of his ass and grow a pair essentially, but i also like my job and don't want to get fired. but i also don't want all our communication issues to get even worse, because with the way the ec runs things they will get worse because nobody has the requisite balls to tell each other when they're doing something that's dragging other people down. anyway. this has just been an exercise to help me organize my thoughts so that i don't tell the man who signs my paycheck that he's being a pussy to his face. go in peace and i'll let you all know if i get fired

[thecrownedlizard]

Rain World: Monsoon - Influence Of Beliefs(IOB)

Hey everyone! It's been a while! Apologies for the delay since my first announcement, I'll do my best to keep things up to date. So, in my previous(and first ever) post, I said I was going to present my iterators. So, let's take a look at our first iterator, Infuence Of Beliefs. PART I - INTRODUCTION One of the oldest among his local group, Beliefs's creation happened during a disagreement between ancients with different beliefs(ironically), which led to a war between both sides, with iterators in that era being created as weapons rather than machines made to solve problems. Due to having enough resistance, and to having a bit of luck, he survived the war. PART II - THE PATH AHEAD A while after that, the ancients who won the war began a journey, leaded by Sliver Of Straw and Influence Of Beliefs(which actually were best friends) in order to find a solution for the Great Problem. With both having already a decent knowledge, aswell as intuition and a great array of technology avaible to themselves, they took the lead of the Sliverists. Both were equally confident to find a better way out of that world, at any costs. Due to extreme respect to Sliver, IOB let the group be named after her. Despite both being really advanced, he always saw her as someone superior to him. And, with hopes that this would make him forget about the mayhem he was created from, decided to partake on helping her. PART III - HESITATION However, as time passed, Beliefs started to realize how pointless it was. He didn't want it to end like that. Why it all had to go off like this? He admitted he was a little afraid of what he could meet upon entering the other side, but unlike him, Sliver was optimistic, and eager to find the solution, thinking it could end up well. When they finally found a solution, the ancients who seemed to care so much about them and idolize them, all vanished. Both were then left alone. A little heartbroken, his friend decided to isolate herself from all. All but him. He decided to console her after all of this, and deemed the solution as something dangerous. During his time, he loosened up, and began to feel more attached to Sliver. Attempts were made to encourage her to give up on finding a solution, and he tried to convince her that living was a better option. PART IV - DiVERGENCE But Sliver refused. She had gone too far, and she did not want to stop there. She kept on working, fending Beliefs away for a bit. He grew more and more concerned of her, but didn't want to repress her or sound rude, so he just let her do what she wanted. He was trying to prepare himself for the worst. He did not want to ascend, but he did not want Sliver to go. Unfortunately, by the time he finally built up the courage to speak to her, she was already gone. She succeeded, and left a pearl behind for him. Sunken in despair, Beliefs entered a panic attack, nearly making himself collapse because of it. He was filled with regret. PART V - DELUSION He knew he couldn't save Sliver, as she was already dead, but he knew he could save the other iterators. It wasn't too late. Driven by his erratic thoughts, he began to mass create supersoldier units to do his bidding, and crafted many dangerous weapons in order to increase his own (fire)power. Ascension was too dangerous, as you never knew where you could end up on. It was too good to be true. Therefore, he deemed that turning the world into a realm of echos would be safer, as echos are immortal, and can be seen by the ones around them, therefore there's no risk on turning into a echo. Or so he thought. CREDITS TO FRIENDS FOR THE ART!! Beliefs drawn by @covchapman and @sweetaru1 ! The Sinner(will likely explain more about them in a future post btw) drawn by @localceilingdevil ! Expect more of those soon!

[poorshadowspaintedqueens]

Hi, I remember you answered a Shakespeare ask a while back and I’ve been trying to figure out about Prince Hal’s charcater from hamlet. What does he represent, what’s he’s like? Because my friend referenced Prince Hal a month ago and then apparently Prince Charles relates to him and I’m so confused about what Prince Hal from hamlet is like. And you always give lovely and brilliant minded answers

Thank you, anon, you’re very kind.

So, Prince Hal.

First of all, he’s got nothing to do with Hamlet. He’s a main character in Henry IV, Parts 1 and 2, before becoming King Henry V and getting his own play, and dying offstage just before the start of Henry VI, Part 1, which has nothing to do with him and everything to do with his shitty legacy of civil war and internecine chaos. Whee!

...come to think of it, there are some not insignificant similarities to Hamlet. But aside from thematic concerns, the two are separate things.

Also separate things: Prince Hal/Henry V as portrayed in Shakespeare’s plays, and the actual Henry of Monmouth, who succeeded to the throne in 1413 as King Henry V of England. So when I talk about Prince Hal, assume I mean the character in Shakespeare.

Simply put, Prince Hal is a dick.

He spends 95% of 1 Henry IV being a dissolute frat boy and the other 5% unexpectedly kicking ass and shocking everybody (except for the audience) into thinking he’s changed his ways. In 2 Henry IV, the other characters learn that he has not, in fact, changed his ways, except that he’s now even more of a dick about it. King Henry IV, who has spent all of Part 1 and the first half of Part 2 with his face permanently glued to his palm every time anyone mentions his eldest son, falls gravely ill and is on his deathbed. Hal shows up, mistakes his dad’s deep sleep for death, and is trying on the crown when Henry wakes up and makes it all terribly awkward. They have an uncomfortable moment of bonding where Henry advises Hal to take himself abroad and commit war crimes in France so everyone can forget about that time Henry deposed his cousin Richard II to take the throne for himself. Not quite in those words, but that’s the general idea. Hal takes his father’s advice and immediately goes to war with France, which he wins against great odds, and the play named after him ends with his triumphant marriage to the princess of France, Katherine.

Well, except for the epilogue, which reminds the audience of these other plays they’ve already seen where Henry’s son fucks everything up

I admit, I don’t know if Prince Charles---erm, the as-yet-uncrowned King Charles III (god that sounds weird) admires Prince Hal as a character, or feels some sort of empathy for him as a fellow dissolute royal who mostly spent his youth (and young adulthood and middle age and) in and out of the tabloids for poor choices. Hal has one soliloquy in particular, early in 1 Henry IV, where he--like his theatrical if not quite chronological predecessor Richard III--addresses the audience directly and explains that the frat boy act is just that: an act.

“I know you all, and will awhile uphold

The unyoked humour of your idleness.

Yet herein will I imitate the sun,

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds

To smother up his beauty from the world,

That, when he please again to be himself,

Being wanted, he may be more wondered at

By breaking through the foul and angry mists

Of vapors that did steem to strangle him.” (1H4, 1.2.202-10)

In short, Hal is behaving badly on purpose so that, at some future point, when he suddenly shows the world how competent he can truly be, they’ll be all the more amazed because of the huge delta between what he was and what he became. This works, up to a point, in the final act of the play. Only when we return to the story in Henry IV, Part 2, Hal has gone back to his dissolute ways.

The earl of Warwick reassures King Henry shortly before his death that “The Prince but studies his companions / Like a strange tongue,” and that he will “in the perfectness of time / Cast off his followers” (2H4 4.3.74-5, 80-1). This suggests that there are at least some members of Henry IV’s court that can see what Hal is doing and are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even Henry eventually allows himself to have a tender moment with Hal before he dies. (The aforementioned one where they bond over future war crimes.)

Then we have Henry V, which is basically what happens when Shakespeare uses the structure of a sports movie to tell the story of an aggressive foreign invasion. Hal, now King Henry, is the protagonist and, if you read the play in its most superficial sense, he’s a hero. He’s plucky, charismatic, courageous, and one of the lads. He even musters up an adorable meet cute with Katherine in the final scene.

But if you’ve seen the two prior plays, you can’t--and shouldn’t--forget that Hal--who, depending on who he’s with, is Hal, Harry, Henry, or Your Grace--is one of those Protean characters who frames his face for all occasions. And he always frames it to his advantage.

[celestialpotat0]

Bleed Blue

The Devil Wears Flannel. Happy Halloween!

didn't feel sad anymore since the last post. ive genuinely felt happy ever since my last post, and have been thinking, this feels like my normal self. i usually feel this happiness. when i think back on it, i believe there was a pattern. the times i felt really sad were triggered by something happening at work. during my last post i felt like it came out of nowhere, i couldnt pinpoint anything specific at the time that caused it. which led me to believe that it mustve had general causes that must be hiding.

but ive since realized that there were things at work that triggered the sadness, i just didn't know on those days how much they affected me deep down. likewise, when ive felt really sad in the past, i now can identify triggers at work that caused it. they hurt me more than i knew, so that while i was at work i'd stay focused on work and distracted by work, but once i got home and had time to feel, the emotions revealed themselves. i had mistakenly attributed the sadness to more general factors in my life, because i was blind to how much the events from work hurt me.

last week i got sick, leading me to take a sick day from work for the very first time since i started this full-time job 3 years ago. but last week i was unmistakably, undeniably sick. i felt so guilty for not being able to work and was trying to persuade myself that I could get through a work shift, but i truly was too sick to work. i was having a hard time believing that i got sick, because my immune system is usually too strong. ive been strangely immune to covid, incapable of catching covid, once again tested negative.

and if i hadn't been sick, i would have worked evening shifts last week and wouldve missed the final 2 games of the world series. if i hadn't gotten sick for the first time since starting this job 3 years ago, i 1000% would have missed the games, because i NEVER call off sick. then i just so happened to get sick last week. so i was really giving myself a hard time about getting sick and really didn't want to call off sick (it's nice to have an attendance streak going), but there was some good that came out of it:

i am really grateful that i got to watch the games live (on tv, not in person). the iconic moments in this world series, the end of game 1, being down by 5 points in game 5 only to come back in a single inning and go on to win the championship in the same game. i'm so inspired by the dodgers, seeing these guys hustle out there and play the way they did, their heart was in it, they wanted it. they set their mind to it and achieved it, it's beautiful. because i was stuck on the couch at home instead of at work, with every pitch i got to feel the suspense and emotions, those moments thinking you will probably lose the game but then coming out victorious. and it just means so much more when it's the Dodgers! <3 baseball has a way of bringing me genuine happiness. and i know it sounds so boneheaded. i can't explain exactly why i care so much about some strangers winning a game, or why i have so much affection toward a team who doesn't know i exist. there's something so exciting about seeing the people you're rooting for end up succeeding! not to mention im in awe of their athleticism and drive. you get this idea that all those drills and hard work they put into their game paid off.

on friday, i told myself that i'd intentionally have a day completely off. and the only reason i had this mentality was a direct result of my illness. i told myself that if i was going to spend a precious vacation day because of illness, i was going to make damn sure that my day off didn't go to waste. i couldnt make it back home to the dodgers parade for just a single day off (though i heavily debated it); i was back at work on halloween evening and saturday. so on friday i didn't cook, didn't clean, didn't exercise, didn't do errands, only washed dishes. i realized how novel it was for me to have this mentality for a day off, where i completely remove all expectations for myself to do anything obligatory. it made such a huge difference for my mental health, made me feel that living is joyful in the day-to-day. so that im not just waiting for my next vacation, not spending all my time working. i really needed that. it just made life feel so much happier and more manageable. yesterday i failed to effectively use my day off. so i resolve to work on this. i am grateful for getting sick to teach me how to truly take a day off.

today is election day. my emotions are running high, im scared and nervous. i cast my vote and everything else is all out of my control.

still have a runny nose and cough and it's been 10 days.

wanted to include this pic as a reminder of people's kindness toward me. Thank you so much to our nurses for showing your appreciation! makes me want to uplift others too ^_^

[bloglutfi]

Revealing Denny Ja’s elected work 37: Terrorism facts that touch the heart

In the world of Indonesian literature, Denny Ja is one of the writers who has produced his best work. His work not only entertains, but also gives a different point of view in understanding the social phenomena that are around us. One of his selected works that deserves to be revealed is the 37th work entitled “Factor of Terrorism that Touching the Heart”. In this article, we will explore some interesting facts in the work.    I. Terrorism as a global threat  Explain what is terrorism and why it is a serious global threat.  Discussing the various types of terrorism in the world today.    II. Denny JA’s background  Introducing Denny JA as a famous writer and intellectual.  Discuss influence and inspiration in creating his work.    III. Synopsis of selected works  Give a summary of the story of “Terrorism Factor that Touching the Heart”.  Describe the main character in the story.    IV. Interesting facts in the work  Explain some interesting facts revealed in the story.  Discuss the emotional impacts caused by the facts.    V. Effect of Selected Work  Discussing the impact caused by the work on the community.  Describe how this work opens our eyes to the reality that is around us.    VI. Moral and social messages in the work  Identifying the moral and social messages that Denny JA wants to convey.  Discussing the importance of the message in shaping our understanding of terrorism.    VII. Criticism and praise of the work  Seeing how this work was accepted by critics and readers.  Discuss whether this work succeeded in achieving its goals and effective in conveying the messages to be conveyed.    VIII. Conclusion  Conclude this article by describing the importance of the work and how this work can affect us as readers.  Encourage readers to read this work and take lessons from facts that are revealed in the story.    In the 37th elected work of Denny JA, “Factor of Terrorism that touches the heart”, Denny JA brought us on a journey that revealed the dark side of terrorism. Through facts presented, we are not only invited to understand this phenomenon in more depth, but also to feel the emotional impact caused by this crime. This work not only provides information, but also invites us to think and act to prevent terrorism in our society.    Denny Ja, as an experienced writer, is able to convey moral and social messages in a professional way. Karyakarya like this helps us in understanding the complexity of the world that is around us. “Terrorism Factors that touch the heart” is one of the works that should be appreciated and revealed, because it is able to arouse our awareness of the threat of terrorism in this world.    Through this article, we hope that the reader will be inspired to read another Denny Ja work and increase their understanding of terrorism. Hopefully by understanding more in this phenomenon, we can contribute to preventing terrorism and creating a safer and more peaceful world.

Check more: Uncovering the 37th elected work of Denny JA: Terrorism Factors that touch the heart

[violetnaps]

okay here we go

placeholder name - senju

lore - theyre immortal. hell-risen. kill them once and theyll just come back later like nothing happened. ideally they need their physical body externally healed but can go without too. the legend goes that the first senju walked out of hell to serve the soul king, or something. and the only way to really kill them is to physically push them back into hell. which only they themselves can do. their bankai can summon the gates of hell and condemn anyone they feel like into it. also during bankai theyre truly immortal, as in unkillable - cut them and theyll stitch themselves back together with chains. more puppet than person. (kind of reminds of urahara...)

members -

sachiko, the Main Guy, to me. predecessor was old even by senju standards and desperate to die. sired three kids for the purpose of killing her. sachiko is the third. succeeded. doesnt know wtf to do now so goes on to have a chill academy life with hisagi and the others and becomes seventh's lieutenant really soon after graduating. "it's nepotism" it's her and komamura both being freaks and annihilating the training grounds trying to kill each other in lieu of the lieutenancy test or however theyre assigned. hates her zanpakuto and fights most battles with only kido. especially partial to bakudo. sth sth her mom kept killing her over and over and now she'll do anything do never be in pain again.

ukiyo, the second son. failed before he even got started. not a fighter at all. his brother runs away the day sachiko appears (they dont actually know if their mother made them or just found them somewhere, there's never any father in the picture) but he stays and is sachikos actual caretaker, since their mother is only interested in training her.

kofuku, the third gen. sometimes i love the idea of her, sometimes i pretend she doesnt exist. senju baby who was found by a mad scientist. you can imagine how that went. sachiko finds her and sends the guy to hell. sachiko's heir who is most definitely not her daughter, stop calling her that.

ichi-something, the first son. the brothers were named in that usual numbered pattern, it's just ukiyo picks a new name for himself after naming sachiko (bc their mother wanted to name her the third and he already knows how that story goes). running around rukon somewhere.

trivia - idr how the immortal concept started but i do know i want sachiko to die twice, maybe thrice. first is that academy field trip that momo and the others were on, which is just humiliating. she killed her monster of a mother and a fuckass hollow got her? second is aizen in winter war decapitating her in front of everyone. "ive always wondered what would happen if i did that :)" gets a cool neck scar out of it so is it really a loss?

oh and ukiyo is a healer but only for physical wounds. he can't restore reiatsu like the fourth's healers can and he isn't particularly concerned with the patients survival either bc hes only ever worked with fixing corpses basically. i oscillate between kofuku being a healer and just a kid whos whatever. she has a higher selfhealing threshold than the others bc of the experiments on her so that could explain her interest in wanting to heal others but also eh. dunno.

idk what else to add. have a sachiko picrew. desi-coded bc she started out as a selfinsert but then lore happened and i dont recognise her anymore lol

need to post my sachiko/family lore before kubo decides to release info abt the 5th noble clan. its my house until i get evicted

[vintagegeekculture]

The 90s Hercules TV Movies

If you are only familiar with the comedic and lighthearted Hercules TV series, the tone of the seldom shown Hercules TV movies that aired on the Universal Action Pack, who’s success led to the series, should be a surprise. For those who are unaware, Universal had a block of programming that they used to show TV movies, including TekWar, Vanishing Son I-IV (essentially a remake of Fu Sheng’s Chinatown Kid, about a Chinese immigrant martial artist who’s brother becomes a gangster in San Francisco), and a remake of Smokey and the Bandit. Of these TV movies, the only ones that were really a hit were the Hercules, and it’s easy to see why.

Taking themselves as seriously as a Steve Reeves film from the 60s, the pre-series Action Pack Hercules TV movies had an interesting mission statement. As Hercules was something of an old fashioned type of hero even in the 90s, the first TV movie had to explain that this particular itineration of Hercules was a sensitive man who understands women. In the TV movie, Hercules in the Maze of the Minotaur, he’s even a single dad, trying to raise his kids. In other words, they wanted to create a hero who had strength and toughness, but also, had a social conscience, and ended episodes with speeches about how racism was bad. They wanted to create a sort of workable composite hero for the 90s, a no beard, long haired hippie Hercules who looked like he was 4/20 friendly. Kevin Sorbo is the only Hercules I can imagine blazing it with a satyr and centaur.

The culture is cyclical, and periods of progressive sentiment yield to reactionary eras of angry retrenchment. I’ve always thought that the 90s were actually two decades in one. The early part of the decade was full of proactive, environmental, moralistic earnestness, like Ted Turner’s Captain Planet and the Planeteers and corny hip hop acts that wore daishikis, and the later years of the decade were reactionary in spirit, with angry tatted up nu metal acts and really weird pop stars who liked to say they were virgins all the time and wear purity rings.

Hercules and the Amazon Women was very much in the spirit of the earlier part of the decade. For instance, the Amazon Women are hostile to men because they think men are monstrous and beat their wives, and Hercules argues that isn’t true – some are cool enlightened males, like him, who can learn to treat women right, and the genders can learn to live together based on mutual respect. The Amazon Women doubt this and use a magic candle to make Hercules flash back to his own life and remember all the times he was taught how to interact with women in his life, in occasionally very degrading ways (in other words, we get Hercules’s origin, so it’s exposition that doesn’t feel like exposition – very clever). Confronted with this, Hercules comes out of it saying that he was wrong, that he can do better and believes everyone else can, too. As a “mission statement” for a new take on Hercules as a new kind of enlightened guy for the 90s who has both strength and compassion in equal measure, it works pretty effectively. 

A lot of works try to be “ah, but this is not your father’s Hercules!” But I swear, this one really succeeded, and I think the reason these TV movies created an empire that dominated the decade was precisely because it was a completely different take that asked how it could do things differently. For instance, just like Kevin Sorbo’s Hercules is a longhair hippie and single dad who believes in peace and love who fights only when all else fails, Anthony Quinn as Zeus works exactly because he underplays it, plays Zeus as a regular guy, a normal schlub who might be a friend of your Dad at the pub, who doesn’t have a booming voice and comes off as normal…yet because this is Anthony Quinn here, he comes into the room… he’s in charge.

Another bit of casting that’s kind of impressive was Hippopolyta, Queen of the Amazons, played by Roma Downey. If you only know her from Touched by an Angel, her wearing a push up bra as a sexy evil queen villainess who knocks boots with Hercules is probably a hell of a shock. I truly believe that there is an alternate timeline where she becomes known for action roles as hot villainesses and would never play an angel in her life (quite the opposite), and maybe got the kind of career Lucy Lawless did. Yeah, she’s a Christian, which is why she did so well on that angel show she did, but that kind of thing isn’t disqualifying when it comes to action. After all, one of the most famous amazons of all, Lynda Carter (like many people of Mexican descent) is a devoted Catholic.