#my fault it was the equipment and another factor)

[coolfoxykitkat]

Me: I have real actual experience for this job.

Job: That’s pretty good. We’ll definitely consider you as a viable candidate.

Me: I can pass a drug test immediately and I’m reliable.

Job: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COME WORK FOR US PLEASE PL-

[oldgayjew]

It takes money and manpower to "cut and clear" hazardous materials and buildup of flamable debris on the forest floor. Trump's rant about raking got a hurtfull laugh by the frontline firefighters. You don't "rake" to get rid of this. You use equipment and "years" of prescribed burns. Weather plays a big factor in all of this. There's another factor in all of this too. People. People who live in the areas that need to be treated. A spark from a fire can travel a mile and ignite another fire. This is not as simple as Mr. Know it all tells it. How do you undo over 100 years of mismanagement with just a snap of one's finger? You don't, and you don't politisize it. Add all of this; firefighters don't get paid that much. Republicans held up a bill to give them a raise. Firefighters are seasonal employees. They rely on a "good year" to make it through the off season and I'll tell you this, the season gets longer and longer every year because of the dry conditions. I'm retired fully now. I'm tired of seeing the devastation and breathing in smoke. I'm tired of working my ass off and then hearing all the political bullshit about this. Trump don't know shit! People have died. People have lost their homes! It's not the fault of the EPA or the Governor in California. If you want to help. Give something to the families of firefighters.

(1) ChinaJoe and the Nazicrats have been in charge for the last 4 years ... remember Maui ...

(2) Wyoming and Southern California are burning up as we speak ...

(3) What else was in the bill to give firefighters a raise ... Nazicrats love to pad a bill and then point at Republicans when they try to stop wasteful spending ...

(4) 100 years of mismanagement ... I thought that was supposed to be the EPA's job ... what have they done ...

(5) There is no Republican Party ... it's so full of RINOs that it's just a scapegoat for Nazicrat failure ...

(6) Yes it is the fault of the EPA and California's governor ... they're in charge ... right ...

(7) And as far as cash ... we've got a $34,000,000,000,000 national debt from the Nazicrats' wasteful spending and money laundering scheme called Ukraine ... COVID and 15,000,000 Illegal Invaders living large needs to stop right now so then we can talk about money for people who REALLY need it ...

P.S. This is the end of your tirade ... if you wanna complain call Congress and ChinaJoe ... no more anonymous bull shit ...

[pigeonwhumps]

Hospital stay

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch

Whumptember day 28: "I never should have let it come this far" | failed hero | hospital stay | begging for help

Set in the future, when Phoenix has been with Kai's team a while. After being kidnapped together and tortured for, Phoenix and Aaron have been rescued, Kai injured while doing so.

Joseph belongs to @i-eat-worlds, from their story Alex and Friends. Please go read it if you haven't yet!

1.5k

CWs: immortal whumpee, hero whump, caretaker turned whumpee, trans whumpee, mentions of superpower overuse, mentions of waterboarding and whipping, past torture, medical setting, coma, low self-esteem, self-degradation, wish to have committed self sacrifice, something that could potentially come across as a death wish but isn't, past self sacrifice, emeto, past temporary character death, past whump reveal (I guess? Idk how to label it)

Phoenix blinks back tears as they watch Aaron, still and silent in the medbay bed in front of them. He's lying on his stomach, trailing with monitors and IVs and all manner of medical equipment, swathed in bandages. They should've done better. They should be there instead of Aaron, but their stupid healing factor, their immortality that's been so useful in the past, means that he was the one who almost died.

It's not fair. He could've escaped if it wasn't for them. But they're stupid and they failed, and now people are worried about them, too.

"They're definitely out of the coma?" whispers Phoenix to the nurse currently taking Aaron's vitals.

"Yes. Just asleep now. They're safe, everyone is."

"It's my fault."

"No. No, it's not, kiddo."

"It *is*. They used me to control him, he could've, um, escaped. And to check they were right. If I'd died quicker then he would've been less hurt, I should've, um, I should've–"

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare talk about yourself like that."

Phoenix blinks, then bursts into tears. The nurse is so fierce.

"Why do you care? Aaron's yours, I got him hurt, you should–"

A hand falls onto their shoulder. "Do you think that after what we've seen of you over the past few years, how much you've helped, how much you've hurt, do you honestly think that we wouldn't care for you too?"

Phoenix cries. They watch Aaron's too-still body and they cry. Everyone else shouldn't care. But as they watch the nurse tend to Aaron, they can't bring themself to point it out again.

"You're sure they'll, um, they'll be okay?"

"Yes. He's recovering nicely. They should be awake in about six to twelve hours."

They're still too bandaged, too still, too too too, too little Aaron in there. Phoenix tries to comfort themself with the thought that he'll be awake soon, but it doesn't help much. What if he doesn't want to see them again? It's all their fault. They're a failure of a hero, a useless, stupid–

"Hey. Whatever you're thinking, that's enough. Joseph's sent you another cat meme if you want a distraction. Are you in pain?"

The answer is yes, everywhere still aches and hurts whenever they shift (and when they don't), but they can't say that. They know why the nurse is asking. But they're a waste of resources and they deserve this anyway.

"No, sir."

"Are you saying no because you really aren't in pain or because you don't want painkillers? I have standing orders from Aaron to remind you that, although you can of course refuse medication, it's perfectly fine to take painkillers or anything else and it's not a waste of resources."

"I'm, um, I'm okay without, sir," murmurs Phoenix, unsure whether they want the nurse to call them out on it or not. She sighs knowingly.

"Alright. Let me know if you need any. Do you want to see Joseph's cat meme?"

Phoenix nods. "Please. And, um, can I move over to Kai's bed? It's, um, it's his turn."

"Of course."

The nurse fetches Phoenix's phone and wheels them over to Kai's bed, then adjusts their saline IV.

"We'll start you off trying to drink again soon. No water for a while yet though."

Phoenix nods, feeling a burning shame. There's no physical reason they can't drink, they're fine. But mentally...

Mentally, they've spent too long without Kai or Aaron reassuring them on anything, and they didn't realise just how much they relied on that. They're useless on their own.

They clutch Mr Frosty to their chest, smiling weakly at Joseph's new message and making sure to reply. They barely see it, but they know now that he'll worry if they don't answer for too long.

It's their daily cat photo. They don't know what they ever did to deserve Joseph.

They slide their phone onto their lap and sink their chin down onto Mr Frosty's head, observing Kai. He's unconscious too, but a lot of that's because he overused his powers. The medics weren't worried about his unconsciousness so much as the stab wound.

Kai looks peaceful. Phoenix isn't sure if that's true.

They look between their two best friends and guilt wells up inside them. Guilt, and grief for something unknown, bubbling over like an old stone well, overflowing and unstoppable. They've both been hurt, everyone's been hurt, because of them.

"I wish I'd been tortured instead of Aaron," murmurs Phoenix, stroking Mr Frosty's fur. "He didn't deserve it. But it's partly so I wouldn't have to watch, so maybe that makes me selfish. What do you think, Mr Frosty?"

"Mr Frosty thinks you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," croaks a voice from the closest bed, and Phoenix looks up, heart in their throat, to see Kai squinting at them.

"Kai! You're awake! Oh." They press a small red button on the side of Kai's bed. "The nurse said to call if you woke."

"How long have I been out?" he asks weakly, as Phoenix helps him with a sippy cup of water.

"A few days? Not entirely sure," they reply quietly. "I was unconscious too for some of it."

Kai tries to sit up, a concerned look on his face, but he can't manage it. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be healing faster, what's wrong?"

"Dehydration, mostly. I'm fine." Kai's gaze flickers pointedly to the IV line in their arm and back, and they sigh. Can't Kai ever miss anything? "I'm... struggling to drink, after... well. It's simpler this way." Phoenix hesitates, and then reaches out a hand hopefully, laying it on top of Kai's uninjured one. Kai turns his own over and squeezes it gently.

Kai's hand is rough, and warm, and large, and it fills Phoenix with relief, to be able to hold it again.

"Where's Aaron? How are they holding up? I don't remember that well but I'm pretty sure they were in bad shape."

Phoenix's eyes dart to the next bed, and Kai struggles in another fruitless attempt to sit up.

"He... he, um, he took the last whipping for me. After everything else he took it, I don't know why, I'm, um, I'm immortal, I'd have been fine, but he– anyway, they're, um, they're out of the induced coma now. Asleep. They're healing. I've, um, been switching between you."

Phoenix is dreading the point where they have to find out exactly how bad things are, how much Aaron hates them now, but they know they deserve it.

"Okay. Phoenix? Firstly, being whipped and waterboarded counts as torture, yes, to you too. Stop being mean to yourself."

Phoenix frowns. "How do you, um, know about the waterboarding?"

Kai squeezes their hand. "They sent videos. To anyone who might care that they had you both. Our team, Joseph, Electrocus, Aisling and Gemma... and Aaron's parents and Alicia. Nobody's told you, huh?"

Phoenix shakes their head, but everything's muted, like they're underwater. They're drowning and they have no idea how to come up for air.

They understand why no-one would tell them. Everyone knowing... that's far too much for their mind to hold.

They gasp, trying to grasp onto something, anything, looking for a lifeline their mind can hold. Everyone knowing...

And they don't even know how much.

"My... my parents?"

"No idea. We haven't contacted them, they haven't contacted us. If they know they're not saying. But no-one can share either of your identities further."

Phoenix takes a deep breath, trying to steady themself. This means Aaron doesn't know either.

Of course he doesn't. Of course he wouldn't. He hasn't woken since the rescue.

"Stop, um, stop trying to reassure me when you were stabbed."

"Then stop claiming you weren't tortured."

"Wasn't bad torture."

They were experiments anyway. That doesn't count as torture.

There's footsteps from behind Phoenix and they cower down, throwing their arm above their head even though it'll do no good. He's going to hurt them, he's going to stretch their limits and kill them and hurt Aaron and–

"Easy. It's just me, I'm here to check on Kai, breathe."

Phoenix does so obediently, blood rushing past their ears still but seeing the medbay as if from miles away, someone in a white coat entering their field of vision.

"Hello Kai," the voice says warmly. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Tell Phoenix there's no such thing as "not bad" torture."

"There isn't. But Kai, I asked about *you*."

"Thirsty, tired, sore. Not dying." He coughs. "What happened?"

"Let me check your vitals and monitors." There's a pause. Phoenix puts their head between their knees, trying to remember how to breathe. "You remember the rescue? Well, you got Phoenix and Aaron, but you had a dagger thrown in your back on your way out. You're damned lucky you were in wolf form. The healers patched you up, but you had a way to go on your own."

"And the others?"

"Lian's been in and out of sleep, Morfydd's in a sensory deprivation chamber, and Santhiya's recovering in a power-blocking room. You all overused your powers drastically, but you'll be okay."

The floor is mostly white with splatters of colour, swirling swirling splatter, and Phoenix throws up on the medbay floor.

[justforlocal]

Understanding the Factors That Determine the Cost of Auto Insurance

When it comes to auto insurance, one of the most common questions drivers ask is, “What factors determine my premium?” The cost of auto insurance isn’t arbitrary; it’s based on a variety of factors that insurers use to assess risk and determine how much to charge you. Understanding these factors can help you make informed decisions and potentially lower your insurance costs. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the key elements that influence your auto insurance premium.

Driving History

Your driving record is one of the most significant factors in determining your auto insurance premium. Insurers look at your history of accidents, traffic violations, and claims to assess your risk level.

Accidents: If you have a history of accidents, especially those where you were at fault, your premium is likely to be higher. This is because insurers see you as a higher risk.

Traffic Violations: Speeding tickets, DUIs, and other traffic violations can increase your insurance costs. Multiple violations over a short period can significantly impact your premium.

Claims History: Frequent claims, even for minor incidents, can lead to higher premiums. Insurers may view frequent claims as an indicator of higher risk.

Vehicle Type

The type of car you drive also plays a crucial role in determining your insurance costs. Certain characteristics of your vehicle can affect your premium.

Make and Model: Luxury and high-performance vehicles often cost more to insure due to their higher repair and replacement costs.

Age of the Vehicle: Newer cars may have higher premiums because they are more valuable and more expensive to repair. However, they may also come with advanced safety features that could reduce costs.

Safety Features: Cars equipped with advanced safety features such as anti-lock brakes, airbags, and collision avoidance systems may qualify for discounts.

Theft Risk: Some cars are more likely to be stolen than others. If your vehicle is a popular target for thieves, you might face higher premiums.

Personal Information

Several personal factors can influence your auto insurance premium. Insurers use demographic information to assess risk.

Age: Younger drivers, especially teenagers, typically have higher premiums due to their lack of experience and higher risk of accidents. Older drivers may also see higher rates due to slower reaction times.

Gender: Statistically, men are more likely to be involved in accidents than women, which can result in higher premiums for male drivers, especially younger ones.

Marital Status: Married individuals often pay less for auto insurance because they are statistically less likely to be involved in accidents.

Occupation: Some occupations are seen as higher risk than others. For example, delivery drivers or individuals who spend a lot of time on the road may face higher premiums.

Location

Where you live and park your car can significantly impact your auto insurance costs. Insurers consider the following location-based factors:

Population Density: Urban areas with high traffic volumes and congestion typically have higher accident rates, leading to higher premiums.

Crime Rates: Areas with high rates of vehicle theft, vandalism, or other crimes can result in higher insurance costs.

Weather Conditions: Regions prone to severe weather events like hurricanes, hailstorms, or floods may see higher premiums due to the increased risk of damage.

Usage of the Vehicle

How you use your car is another critical factor in determining your auto insurance premium. Insurers assess risk based on the following usage-related aspects:

Mileage: The more you drive, the higher your risk of being involved in an accident. Low-mileage drivers often qualify for discounts.

Commute: If you use your car for commuting to work or school, your premium might be higher due to the increased time spent on the road.

Business Use: Vehicles used for business purposes, such as deliveries or client visits, may have higher premiums due to the increased risk.

Coverage and Deductibles

The type and amount of coverage you choose, as well as your deductibles, directly impact your auto insurance premium.

Coverage Limits: Higher coverage limits provide more protection but come with higher premiums. It’s essential to balance coverage needs with your budget.

Deductibles: A higher deductible means lower premiums, but you’ll pay more out of pocket in the event of a claim. Conversely, a lower deductible increases your premium but reduces out-of-pocket costs for claims.

Optional Coverages: Adding optional coverages like collision, comprehensive, uninsured/underinsured motorist, or roadside assistance will increase your premium.

Credit Score

In many states, insurers use credit scores as a factor in determining auto insurance premiums. A higher credit score can lead to lower premiums, while a lower score may result in higher costs. Insurers believe that individuals with higher credit scores are more likely to be responsible drivers.

Insurance History

Your history with previous insurers can also affect your premium. Insurers consider the following:

Lapse in Coverage: If you’ve had a lapse in your auto insurance coverage, even for a short period, you may face higher premiums. Continuous coverage indicates reliability and lower risk.

Previous Claims: Insurers may review your claims history with previous insurers to assess your risk. Frequent or significant claims can lead to higher premiums.

Discounts

Many insurers offer discounts that can help lower your auto insurance premium. It’s worth exploring which discounts you might qualify for, such as:

Multi-Policy Discount: Bundling your auto insurance with other policies like homeowners or renters insurance can result in discounts.

Good Driver Discount: Maintaining a clean driving record without accidents or violations can earn you a good driver discount.

Good Student Discount: Students with good grades may qualify for discounts.

Safety Features Discount: Vehicles equipped with advanced safety features may be eligible for discounts.

Low Mileage Discount: Driving fewer miles than average can earn you a low mileage discount.

Telematics and Usage-Based Insurance

Some insurers offer telematics or usage-based insurance programs that use technology to monitor your driving habits. These programs can adjust your premium based on factors like:

Driving Behavior: Safe driving habits, such as avoiding hard braking, speeding, and rapid acceleration, can lead to lower premiums.

Mileage: The actual number of miles you drive can impact your premium. Driving less can result in lower costs.

Understanding the various factors that determine your auto insurance premium can help you make informed decisions and potentially lower your costs. By maintaining a clean driving record, choosing a vehicle with advanced safety features, and taking advantage of available discounts, you can reduce your insurance expenses. Additionally, considering your personal factors, vehicle usage, and location can provide insights into why your premium is set at a particular level. Stay proactive, shop around, and regularly review your policy to ensure you’re getting the best possible rate for your auto insurance needs.

[delulluart]

do you have paper recommendations (for both drawings and watercolor paintings)? i want to get back into traditional art and don't really know were to start. also what pencils do you use? and watercolors? or do you use guache? what brushes should i get? sorry i know this is a lot of questions but it is a bit overhwhelming and i really liked you're ghost paintings 😊 and i don't want to buy bad things

oh dear, first of all: thank you, I'm very happy to hear you enjoy my silly stuff! And it is always great to hear people getting back to traditional art, since it seems like almost everyone is doing digital art exclusively these days (this is NOT me shitting on DA, i love you digital art people).

Anyway, yes, there's *a lot* of options out there and it is so, so important to get at least okay-ish quality equipment.

Paper

Paper is, in my opinion the most important factor, especially for watercolour works. switching to good quality paper was an absolute game changer - 0 exaggeration!

Watercolour paper:

I use mostly Hahnemühle Britannia 300g/m² cold pressed with matte surface. it comes with different surface options, depending on the effect you want (rougher surface etc., but i don't vibe with that). it is still relatively affordable, but still, hurts the bank account quite a bit.

If i want to go for some more silly stuff, i use Hahnemühle Burgund 250g/m². because it's thinner it is cheaper (you just can't put as much water and as many layers on it, which, for my use case is usually perfectly fine).

If i want to go full fancy I use the Hahnemühle mould made 300g/m². It's handmade paper, not from trees but with fabric, it is incredible how well the colours work on this stuff. Many people use Arches paper, but that is way too expensive for me. and I'm very happy with the Hahnemühle.

The difference between cheap as shit no-name watercolour paper and some good quality brand paper is, and I cannot express this enough, incredibly big. those ugly rims and splotches and uneven colour fades? that's the cheap paper's fault, not yours. It made me really desperate thinking I'm just too stupid for art, when it wasn't my fault.

For drawings I also use Hahnemühle:

my favourite is Skizze 190: very smooth surface, very white and very affordable!

another is Nostalgie: It feels even smoother in a different way, is less white. at first touch they seem identical, but handle very differently. this one is just as affordable as the Skizze 190 one.

Cheaping out on paper means you'll pay with happiness, really. save your nerves and motivation and spend the money on nice paper. trust me.

I'm not sure, Hahnemühle is available wherever you live, but go to an art supply store (a good one) and ask for help there!

Pencils

I exclusively use Staedtler Mars Lumograph pencils these days. They are very consistent in their...abrasion? there's no hard chunks in the lead, and they cost very little. They also have the Lumograph Black pencils which have a high charcoal level, which is super cool when you have very dark areas, because it won't get super shiny!

Watercolours

I got myself a set of Lukas Studio Watercolours and added a few more that i use often/ needed more than the ones already included in the set. They're not very expensive (compared to other big brands that everyone seems to use) and i like them. I never tried the expensive Windsor etc. paints, though. The price is very attractive and I never had any problems with them.

I also have a Gouache set that I got second hand from my sister by Caran d'Ache. I don't know whether it's good or not, because I rarely use it, mostly for accents on my watercolour paintings.

Brushes

until very recently I used rather cheap but good synthetic brushes for ethical reasons. I accidentally bought a natural hair one and it was....extremely good. With a heavy heart I now switched full time to much more expensive Kolinskis. Ethically this is an absolute nightmare and I will try to buy as few as possible and use them forever before buying new ones. But they are, unfortunately, much better. I wouldn't necessary recommend the brand I used because they're bad at keeping a tip, though.

But if you're just starting: go to an art supply store and get 3 synthetic ones in small, medium and slightly bigger with a nice tip and you'll be very happy for quite a while, i promise!

I also highly recommend getting a Pentel Aquash as a starting tool and for painting outside (don't buy a cheap fake, they're terrible)

alright, I hope i could answer your questions and if you (or anyone else) wants to know more, just ask :)

[tamesg]

Recognition

Ninety-two minutes.

That's how long we've been sitting in the Command Center, going over the same failed battle from every possible angle except the one that matters. Ninety-two minutes of Jason pacing back and forth, analyzing formation patterns and timing sequences. Ninety-two minutes of Billy running diagnostics on equipment that I know for a fact is working perfectly. Ninety-two minutes of Trini quietly suggesting alternative strategies while Zack nods along and Tommy stares at the floor.

Ninety-two minutes, and not one of them has asked me what I think went wrong.

"The Zords were responding normally," Billy says for the fourth time, adjusting his glasses as he studies the readouts. "All systems were operating at optimal capacity. I can't find any technical explanation for why we couldn't form the Megazord properly."

I know why. I was there.

And they still haven't noticed.

"Maybe we were just off our game today," Jason says, running his hands through his hair. "It happens. Sometimes the timing just isn't there."

Sometimes the timing just isn't there. Like it's some kind of mystical force instead of five specific people making five specific choices. Like my choice to hold back doesn't count because they never bothered to factor me into the equation anyway.

"We need to run more drills," Tommy suggests. "Practice the formation until it's automatic."

Automatic. Like we're machines instead of people. Like the problem is mechanical rather than... what? Personal? Emotional? The kind of thing you might notice if you paid attention to your teammates as human beings instead of just component parts of a giant robot?

Ninety-three minutes now. Ninety-four.

I count each one like heartbeats, like evidence. Each minute that passes without them asking for my input is another piece of proof that I've been right all along. They don't see me as an equal team member whose opinion matters. They see me as the emotional support system who shows up when they need comfort but disappears when it's time for real decisions.

Ninety-five. Ninety-six.

"Kim, you're good at reading people," Jason says suddenly, turning toward me with that same earnest expression he uses when he's trying to solve a problem. "Do you think we're all just overthinking this? Maybe we're stressed about something else and it's affecting our performance?"

One hundred and seven minutes. One hundred and seven minutes for them to remember I exist, and this is what they ask me.

Not "What did you observe during the battle sequence?" Not "Do you have any strategic insights?" Not even "Did you notice anything different about your own Zord's performance?"

They want me to be their emotional barometer. Their feelings translator. The person who reads the room so they don't have to think about messy human complications.

I look around the crystal walls of the Command Center, at the faces of my teammates all turned toward me expectantly. Waiting for me to do what I always do - make everyone feel better about a situation I know could have been prevented if they'd bothered to see me as more than their designated emotional support system.

Zordon's energy tube pulses with soft light above us, Alpha's sensors whir quietly in the background, and I realize this is my moment. The test I didn't know I was setting up.

I could tell them the truth. Admit that I deliberately sabotaged our formation, that I wanted to see if they'd notice when I wasn't functioning at full capacity. But that would mean confessing in front of Zordon, admitting I put Angel Grove at risk for something as petty as feeling ignored.

Or I could give them what they want - some insight into everyone's emotional state that explains away the tactical failure without anyone having to examine their own behavior.

"I think we're fine," I say, my voice steady and reassuring. "Just one of those days, you know? Sometimes things don't click and it's nobody's fault."

The relief on their faces is immediate. Visible. Like I've just given them permission to stop thinking about something difficult.

"That makes sense," Billy says, already closing his diagnostic equipment. "Biological systems aren't perfectly consistent. Minor variations in performance are statistically normal."

"Yeah," Zack agrees. "We'll get it next time."

Next time. Like it's inevitable that there will be problems, and equally inevitable that I'll be here to explain them away with emotional labor disguised as wisdom.

They're already moving on, already shifting into post-meeting mode, and I sit perfectly still while something crystallizes inside my chest. Cold and sharp and absolutely clear.

They don't see me. They won't see me. And if I disappear entirely, they probably won't notice that either.

But they'll notice when the Megazord formation fails again. And again. And again.

—

Tuesday: Zack's joke lands exactly the way his jokes always do - a perfectly timed punchline that catches everyone mid-sip of their drinks. Jason nearly chokes on his soda, his face reddening as he struggles between swallowing and laughing. Tommy's whole body convulses with mirth, his mouth hanging open in a way that shows too much of his half-chewed sandwich. Even Trini, who usually maintains some dignity, snorts so suddenly that a drop of milk actually comes out of her nose.

I watch their faces, cataloguing each reaction with the clinical precision of someone studying lab specimens. The way Jason's features contort, his usual leadership composure dissolving into something almost primitive. The way Tommy's laugh builds from a chuckle to something that makes his chair creak under the force of his movements, like he's having some kind of seizure. The way Trini's careful control shatters completely, leaving her dabbing at her nose with a napkin while her shoulders still shake.

How graceful. How sophisticated. These are the people I'm supposed to respect as teammates?

Zack's eyes find mine, expectant, waiting for me to join their little performance of forced hilarity. That look he gives everyone after a joke - demanding, really, that we all participate in his moment of glory. Like we owe him our laughter just because he managed to string words together in a way that amused himself.

But I don't laugh. Won't laugh. Because something about the whole display feels obscene - grown teenagers collapsing into hysterics over what? A mildly clever observation about cafeteria food? The desperation of it all, the way they throw themselves into these manufactured moments of connection like drowning people grabbing for life preservers.

"Kim?" His voice carries that note of concern that sounds so practiced, so automatic. Like he's reading from a script titled "How to Pretend You Care About People's Feelings." "You okay?"

The question hangs in the air for exactly three seconds - I count them, watching his eyes even as I do - before his gaze shifts to Tommy, who's still grinning like an idiot about the punchline. Before he can even process whatever answer I might give, Zack's already moving on to his next story, already feeding his need for constant validation from a more reliable source.

Three seconds. That's how long my emotional state matters to anyone at this table.

—

Wednesday: "The team chemistry felt really off during yesterday's battle," Jason says, stabbing his fork into his salad with the kind of deliberate precision he uses when he's trying to solve a problem. "We were just... out of sync somehow."

He's using his Leader Voice - that particular tone that signals he wants input, that he's opening the floor for strategic discussion. The same voice he uses during actual team meetings, except we're sitting in the school cafeteria surrounded by the usual chaos of teenage social dynamics.

I set down my sandwich and lean forward slightly, the way I've learned signals engagement in group conversations. "Maybe we need better communication during formation sequences. Like, actual verbal cues instead of just assuming everyone knows what—"

"Communication protocols," Billy interrupts, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark he gets when he sees a technical problem to solve. "We could implement a standardized system of audio signals, maybe even upgrade the comm arrays in our helmets to include haptic feedback indicators that would—"

And just like that, I'm invisible again. Billy's hands start moving as he talks, sketching imaginary diagrams in the air while Jason nods with increasing enthusiasm. The conversation flows around me like I'm a rock in a stream, completely bypassing anything I might have contributed.

I watch Billy's animated gestures, the way his fingers trace complex patterns that probably make perfect sense to him but look like meaningless flourishes to everyone else. How typical that his solution involves more gadgets, more technology, more ways to avoid actually talking to each other like human beings.

Jason's nodding along like Billy's just revealed the secrets of the universe instead of suggesting they throw expensive equipment at a problem that could be solved by paying attention to the people standing next to you. His face has that expression he gets when he thinks someone's being particularly insightful - eyebrows raised, slight forward lean, that little crease between his eyes that's supposed to indicate deep thought.

It's the same expression he's never once worn while listening to anything I've said.

"That's brilliant, Billy," Jason says, and there's genuine admiration in his voice. "How long would it take to implement something like that?"

Brilliant. Because replacing human awareness with mechanical solutions is so much more sophisticated than just learning to notice when your teammates are struggling.

I take a bite of my sandwich and chew mechanically, watching Billy launch into calculations about circuit modifications and response times. The way they build on each other's ideas, the natural flow of collaborative problem-solving that somehow never seems to include me unless they need someone to manage feelings or smooth over personal conflicts.

Billy's still talking, hands moving in increasingly complex patterns, and Jason's still nodding like every word is pure wisdom. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here with sandwich crumbs on my napkin, wondering when I became the designated emotional janitor who only gets included when someone needs their feelings validated.

—

Thursday: "Hey Kim, you want to study together for the Whitman test?" Tommy asks, sliding into the seat across from me in the library. His backpack hits the table with a soft thud, and I can see his history textbook already bristling with sticky notes and highlighted passages.

For just a moment, something warm flickers in my chest. Someone actively seeking out my company, wanting to spend time with me for something other than emotional crisis management. Maybe—

"I can't," I say, glancing at the clock on the library wall. "I have gymnastics practice in twenty minutes. Coach Schmidt is working with us on our beam routines for regionals."

Tommy's face shifts through a series of micro-expressions - disappointment, calculation, resolution. The whole process takes maybe two seconds, like he's running through his options and arriving at an acceptable alternative.

"No worries," he says with a shrug that's just a little too casual, already reaching for his backpack. "I'll ask Trini. She's probably free."

The warmth in my chest crystallizes into something sharp and cold.

No worries. Like it makes absolutely no difference whether it's me or Trini sitting across from him, explaining the symbolism in "Leaves of Grass." Like we're completely interchangeable components in his academic support system - just grab whichever one happens to be available.

He's already standing, already mentally moving on to Plan B, and I watch him scan the library for Trini's familiar dark hair. There - by the poetry section, completely absorbed in whatever she's reading. Tommy's face brightens with the same expression he had when he asked me, like he's just remembered he has other options.

"See you later, Kim," he says, but he's already walking away, already focused on his next attempt at academic collaboration.

I sit there with my own textbooks spread across the table, watching him approach Trini with the exact same casual friendliness he just showed me. The same "hey, want to study together?" tone, the same expectant smile. Like asking me was just the first option on a list, not a specific desire to spend time with me as a person.

Trini looks up from her book and nods, gathering her things with efficient movements. Of course she's free. Of course she's available to help. And of course Tommy looks genuinely pleased about this development, like Plan B might actually be better than Plan A anyway.

They walk past my table on their way to find somewhere to study, and neither of them glances in my direction.

—

Friday: My pager sits silent on my desk all day, its black screen reflecting nothing but the afternoon light streaming through my bedroom window.

I check it three times during homework. Once after dinner. Twice more before bed. The display shows the same thing every time: no new messages. No blinking light. No series of numbers that would mean someone, somewhere, needs my help with something.

For the first time in months, nobody has called me with a crisis that requires immediate emotional intervention. Nobody needs me to mediate an argument, or provide a sympathetic ear, or offer the kind of careful advice that makes people feel better about their problems without actually having to solve them.

I should feel relieved. This is what I've been wanting, isn't it? A night off from being everyone's designated emotional support system. Time to focus on my own homework, my own problems, my own life that somehow always gets pushed aside when other people need something.

Instead, I feel... forgotten.

Like I only exist when other people have crises that need managing. Like my entire social value is measured by how quickly I respond to other people's emergencies, how effectively I can absorb their anxiety and transform it into something manageable.

I think about calling someone myself - just to talk, just to connect, just to prove that I can be the one who reaches out first for once. But every number I consider feels wrong. What would I even say? "Hi, I'm calling because no one called me and I feel weird about it"? "Hey, just wanted to chat because my pager hasn't beeped all day and I'm starting to think I've disappeared"?

The silence in my room grows heavier as the evening stretches on. Even the familiar sounds from downstairs - Mom washing dishes, Dad watching the news - feel distant and irrelevant. Like I'm existing in some kind of bubble where normal human connection can't reach me.

By ten o'clock, I've checked my pager fourteen times. Still nothing. Still silence. Still the growing certainty that when I'm not actively solving other people's problems, I simply don't exist in their thoughts at all.

Maybe this is what I actually am to them. Not a friend, not a person with my own needs and feelings and complications. Just a service that they access when required and forget about when they don't need it.

An emotional vending machine that sits in the corner until someone needs to feed it quarters and push the right buttons.

—

Each incident sits in my chest like a stone, small and sharp and getting heavier every day. By the end of the third week, I've catalogued seventeen separate moments of dismissal, neglect, or casual replacement. Seventeen pieces of evidence that I've been right all along about my place in this group.

The worst part is that if I described any of these moments to someone else, they'd sound like nothing. Normal teenage interactions. Friends being friends, making plans, solving problems, living their lives in the chaotic way that seventeen-year-olds do.

But they're not friends, are they? Friends notice when you're pulling back. Friends ask follow-up questions when you seem upset. Friends remember that you exist even when they don't need something from you.

I start an experiment.

Monday: I don't call Jason back when he leaves a message about being "stressed about the calculus test." Let him figure out his own test anxiety for once.

Tuesday: When Zack starts telling a story about his weekend that's clearly building toward some emotional revelation, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. When I come back, Billy's listening with the same supportive attention I would have provided.

Wednesday: Trini mentions that she's worried about her grandmother, and instead of immediately offering to talk through her concerns, I just nod and change the subject to our chemistry homework.

Thursday: Tommy's pager goes off during lunch - some family crisis that would normally send him straight to me for advice and emotional support. Instead, I stay focused on my sandwich and let someone else deal with his drama.

Friday: I don't show up to our usual after-school hangout at the Youth Center. No explanation, no advance warning. I just... don't go.

And you know what happens?

Nothing.

Jason figures out his test anxiety by talking to Billy about study techniques. Zack gets his emotional support from Trini, who listened just as effectively as I would have. Tommy works through his family issues with some combination of the others. The world continues to turn, problems get solved, emotional needs get met.

All without me.

The group functions perfectly well when I remove myself from the equation. Better, maybe, because they don't have to worry about managing my feelings while they work through their own problems.

I've spent months thinking I was essential to their emotional ecosystem, but it turns out I was just... optional. A convenience they could easily replace with each other when I wasn't available.

That's when I start planning something bigger.

If they won't notice when I withdraw my emotional support, maybe they'll notice when I withdraw my tactical support. When the person they've been taking for granted in small ways suddenly becomes unavailable in ways that actually matter.

The opportunity comes three days later.

"Rangers," Alpha's voice crackles through our communicators during sixth period chemistry. "Rita's latest monster is attacking the downtown shopping district. You're needed immediately."

I slip out of class along with the others, but instead of the usual pre-battle focus, my mind is calculating. Running through scenarios, measuring risks, planning exactly how much I can hold back without causing permanent damage.

The monster turns out to be some kind of mirror creature that splits into multiple copies of itself every time we attack it. Standard Rita tactics - overwhelming us with numbers until we're forced to call on the Megazord to clean up the mess.

"Formation Delta-Seven," Jason calls through the comm system as putties flood the area around the creature. "Kim, take the high ground and provide cover while we—"

I move into position on the roof of a nearby building, but slower than usual. Not enough to be obvious, just slightly behind the rhythm they're expecting. My first few shots miss their targets by inches - close enough that it looks like the putties are just faster than anticipated, not close enough to actually provide the cover fire my teammates need.

Below me, I watch Jason dive for cover as three putties advance on his position. Normally, I would have cleared them out before they got within ten feet of him. Today, I let them get close enough that he has to fight his way out hand-to-hand.

"Kim, we could use some help down here!" Zack's voice carries a note of strain as he grapples with two putties at once.

I fire three shots in rapid succession, each one carefully aimed to miss by just enough. "Sorry, they're moving too fast! I can't get a clean shot!"

It's not completely a lie. They are moving fast. I'm just not trying as hard as I could to compensate for that.

The battle drags on longer than it should. My teammates take hits they shouldn't have to take, work harder than they should have to work, all because I'm giving them ninety percent effort instead of a hundred.

But they're managing. Struggling, yes, but still handling the situation. Still winning, just... messier than usual.

And that's when I realize something that makes my stomach drop.

They don't actually need me at full capacity to succeed. My deliberate mediocrity is making things harder, but not impossible. They're adapting, compensating, covering for what they assume is an off day without even questioning it.

I'm not as essential as I thought I was in any capacity.

By the time we form the Megazord, I'm seething with a frustration that has nothing to do with the monster we're fighting and everything to do with how easily my teammates have worked around my deficiency.

"Pterodactyl, online," I report, my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest.

The formation sequence begins, and I find myself at another crossroads. I could continue my subtle sabotage, throw off the connection timing just enough to cause problems. Or I could escalate.

The creature splits again, now six identical copies surrounding us as our Zords move into position. Jason's voice comes through the comm with tactical instructions, Billy provides technical analysis of the creature's splitting pattern, Zack and Trini coordinate their approach vectors.

No one asks for my input. No one requests my tactical assessment. I'm just expected to slot into place and provide whatever support they've already decided they need.

"Now!" Jason calls, and the other four Zords begin the delicate process of forming the Megazord.

I hold back.

Not a subtle delay this time, not a small timing issue that could be explained away by equipment malfunction or communication lag. I simply don't engage my Zord's connection protocols when I'm supposed to.

The formation stutters. Sparks fly across the control panels as the other Zords try to compensate for my missing link in the chain. Warning lights flash red throughout my cockpit.

"Kim, what's happening?" Jason's voice carries sharp concern now. "We're not reading your connection!"

"I'm trying!" I call back, my hands moving over controls I'm deliberately not activating. "Something's wrong with my systems!"

Below us, the six identical creatures have stopped their rampage and are turning their attention toward our incomplete formation. They seem to sense vulnerability, opportunity.

My teammates struggle to maintain their partial connection while I watch from my disconnected Zord, feeling a sick satisfaction at finally, finally being the center of their attention. Finally being the missing piece they can't ignore.

But as I watch the creatures begin their coordinated attack on the weakened Megazord formation, something cold and sharp cuts through my satisfaction.

They're actually in danger now. Real danger, not the manageable kind of struggle I've been creating. And it's my fault.

The first creature's attack hits the incomplete Megazord formation like a sledgehammer. Without my Zord's stabilizing connection, the others can't distribute the impact properly. I watch Jason's cockpit shake violently, see Zack's control panel shower sparks as systems overload.

"Kim, we need you NOW!" Billy's voice cracks with strain and something I've never heard from him before - genuine fear.

Through my viewscreen, I can see Trini's Zord listing to one side, smoke pouring from what looks like a damaged joint assembly. Jason's trying to compensate, but the partial formation is putting stress on all their systems that they weren't designed to handle.

This isn't the manageable struggle I planned. This isn't proving a point about my value to the team. This is me watching my friends get hurt because I wanted them to notice me.

Another creature strikes, and the incomplete Megazord staggers. In my peripheral vision, I catch sight of the evacuation zone where Angel Grove citizens are huddled behind emergency barriers, watching their protectors fail to protect them.

Because of me.

My hands hover over the connection controls, and for one terrible moment, I hesitate. Part of me - the hurt, angry part that's been growing for weeks - whispers that this is what they deserve. That they brought this on themselves by taking me for granted.

But then I see Jason's Zord spark again, worse this time, and something in my chest snaps back into place.

"Connection protocols, now!" I shout, my fingers flying over the controls with desperate precision.

The Pterodactyl Zord surges forward, locking into formation with a mechanical scream that sounds almost like relief. Power flows between all five Zords again, stabilizing the connections, restoring the balance that should have been there from the beginning.

The Megazord stands complete, and within minutes, Rita's creatures are nothing but glittering dust scattered across the downtown streets.

But in my cockpit, I'm shaking. Not from adrenaline or battle fatigue, but from the knowledge of what I almost did. What I actually did do, for those endless minutes when I let my friends fight for their lives with one hand tied behind their backs.

—

"Excellent work, Rangers," Zordon's voice fills the Command Center as we materialize back from the battle. "The formation difficulties you experienced were concerning, but your ability to overcome them demonstrates the strength of your teamwork."

I stand with the others in our usual post-mission formation, but everything feels different now. The crystalline walls seem too bright, the familiar hum of the Command Center's systems too loud. Every surface reflects my face back at me, and I can't escape the knowledge of what I see there.

"Kim," Jason says, turning toward me with genuine gratitude in his voice, "that last-second connection save was incredible. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't gotten your systems back online when you did."

The praise hits me like acid. He's looking at me with the exact expression I've been craving for weeks - respect, appreciation, recognition of my essential role on the team. His voice carries real warmth, real acknowledgment of my value.

Everything I thought I wanted.

"Thanks," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. "Just glad I could get it working again."

"Seriously," Zack adds, rolling his shoulders like he's working out kinks from the battle. "That was some clutch timing. Another few seconds and we might've been in real trouble."

Real trouble. If only he knew.

Billy's already pulling up diagnostic readings on Alpha's console, but he glances over with that smile he gets when he's impressed by good tactical work. "The power distribution during your reconnection was actually remarkable. The way you managed to stabilize all our systems simultaneously while under attack - that takes serious skill."

Each compliment lands like a physical blow. They're praising me for fixing a problem I created. Thanking me for saving them from a disaster I engineered. Looking at me with genuine admiration for demonstrating abilities I was deliberately withholding until it served my purpose.

I've gotten exactly what I wanted, and it's the worst feeling I've ever experienced.

"We should run some diagnostics on Kim's Zord," Trini says quietly, and something in her tone makes my stomach clench. "Just to make sure whatever caused the malfunction won't happen again."

There's nothing accusatory in her voice. Nothing suspicious. Just the practical suggestion of someone who wants to prevent future problems.

But when she looks at me, her eyes hold something I've never seen there before. Not anger, not suspicion, but a kind of careful neutrality that feels worse than either.

Like she's seeing me clearly for the first time, and she doesn't entirely like what she's found.

The others disperse with their usual post-mission efficiency - Jason heading home to study, Billy wanting to run actual diagnostics on the Zord systems, Zack mentioning something about dance practice. Normal teenage lives resuming after another day of saving the world.

Trini lingers.

She doesn't make a show of it, just takes her time gathering her things while the Command Center empties around us. When it's just the two of us left with Alpha puttering around his duties, she finally speaks.

"Good thing your controls started working again when they did."

Her voice is completely neutral. Conversational, even. Like she's commenting on the weather or asking about homework. But every word lands with surgical precision.

I feel my throat close up. "Yeah. Lucky timing."

Trini adjusts her backpack strap, still not looking directly at me.

The silence stretches between us, thick with everything neither of us is saying. Alpha's mechanical humming fills the space, normal sounds from a normal day in a place where nothing will ever feel normal for me again.

"Trini—"

But she's already walking away without another word, leaving me alone with the weight of what I've become and the recognition I finally earned.

The Command Center falls silent except for Alpha's distant mechanical humming. Even that stops after a moment, leaving nothing but the soft pulse of Zordon's energy tube and the sound of my own breathing. Each exhale echoes off the crystal walls, bouncing back to me like a question I don't want to answer.

In the silence, I can still hear Jason's voice: "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't gotten your systems back online when you did."

If only he knew how easy it would have been to find out.

[bluemoonball]

Another November 2024 Post

I've little doubt that this will be remembered as one of the greatest self-humiliations that any country has ever engaged in. Nevertheless, there is a great deal of ruin in a nation, so we move on. We don't have a choice, you know.

There are at least three kinds of excusable motives for people. One is just being dumb as shit, and there's plenty of those. That's "he'll make the economy better" and so on. This is excusable inasmuch as it's driven by an entirely appropriate ignorance. Most people are dumb as shit, and that's not their fault; it's nothing immoral or sinful. In this system, people are supposed to be presented with two reasonable choices: go on as is, or do something else. This is precisely to account for people being morons; even morons are well equipped to decide if they like what's been happening or not. Morons who exert this basic form of democratic accountability are doing their job and can't be blamed. I think this is probably most voters on either side, and certainly most of those who swung. And really it's the party's fault for putting up an unacceptable, addled wannabe-dictator as the alternative.

The second kind of error is some kind of passionate principle or narrow interest. People who love money and hate regulation, or believe abortion is the greatest sin, or seek to punish the guy who tepidly supported Israel in its bombing. This is an error of principles. These principles are subjective, and while it's a poor idea to put them above the elementary social compact, most everyone has something they'd put above that compact--their family, their own skin, whatever. On some level, we ought to be humble enough to accept their choice of principle.

The third possibility is accelerationism. There are those who believe that the system is so broken that someone needs to smash it fully. They accept that this man is not only a piece of shit scumbag, but also incompetent and incontinent, but this is the tool they have. Arguably, some would say, only a person this warped and shriveled, this empty and cheap, this totally void, could do so. I think there's something to this view, and it is held by some intelligent people. This one is very excusable in some sense: I think the system we have is imperfect but very good and should be sustained (that is, I'm a conservative); they think it needs to be torn down in order to make progress (that is, they are progressive); and that's an instinct I can sympathize with.

By contrast, what I don't excuse is the plain old narrow sadism of trolls. One may feel resentment, one may genuinely be wronged, but to respond to it by giving in to your sadistic nature? That's the behavior of a villain, of Richard III. At its core is unformedness, immaturity, raw and tender self-obsession—"His Majesty, the baby." I also don't excuse delusion, which surely is a lot of it as well; Qanon or whatever. There's nothing to excuse when you're orthogonal to reality.

No doubt these factors are all mixed up in people, in reality, and so it would be more generous to excuse the majority in general. And so I will. But to understand and even excuse them means only not to blame them. It doesn't mean to shield them from the consequences of their actions, or to behave as though we're common citizens and need to row together now. We are not. They've made a category error. In each case, they have consciously or unconsciously, knowingly or unknowingly, made a value judgment that the fundament, the cornerstone, the centerpiece of our society—the principle imperfectly reflected in our Constitution, that power belongs to the people and so when the king loses, they leave—is less important to them than something else.

To my mind, this was clear enough the first time, but after January 6th, it's unconcealable. It shouts to the heavens. It's the Emperor's new clothes. To disregard what was done and what worse was attempted that day, well, that's their choice to make. But the response to that can no longer be persuasion, offers, and bargaining. The response to a fundamental irreconcilable difference is divorce, it's secession, it's annulment, it's contract-breaking, it's war.

At best, we are, unfortunately, cast in the role of a parent to a child. A wayward and obstreperous child who wants candy and wants his stomach to stop hurting and to stay up late playing video games all at once. We've tried to shield them from the consequences humanely, while being beset by a million other problems, as an adult is; of course it wasn't perfect, had many failings, but all in all it was a creditable adult effort, and it's been rewarded with another tantrum.

What is the response? It can only be to let the consequences hit. If amelioration doesn't work, the next move is our own accelerationism. The tat of the tit-for-tat has to come out of the sack, and this time we should do what we can to push it along. We don't need to take any joy in this, and probably shouldn't, but if they insist on eating candy despite being warned that they'll shit their guts out, then the thing to do is to hand over the candy and a bucket and leave the room.

Give it to them good. Let them have what they asked for, as hard as they asked for it, or harder. Innocent people will be caught up in the crossfire and that is unfortunate, but that is why war is bad.

With malice towards none is always a sound principle. With charity towards all is a good one that will have to wait. No charity, no succor, no aid, no sympathy other than in private; no bandages, no insurance, no safety, no sanctuary. No mercy. Let 'em all hang; I'll see them in four years, and we'll all see how they've reaped in that time.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Why be a writer if you’re not equipped for it ? No shade but if it isn’t something you can consistently do or even have enough interest in to get something done why do it? You’re wasting your own time and energy trying to get something accomplished knowing it doesn’t fit your schedule

Hello, yes, some people do things because they enjoy it regardless of other factors. Enjoyment is reason enough to do something.

And I have plenty of interest in it, writing has been the only consistent interest I've had for now half of my life so interest isn't my issue at all.

Some people have troubles doing things they love out of no fault of their own, often due to disabilities or mental health.

I would both appreciate and advise that you do not send messages like this to anyone again, you never know what someone's situations and what kind of nerve you may hit by essentially telling someone to give up doing a hobby they enjoy.

And as I upload my writing on the internet for others without earning a single penny from it, I think it's rather obvious that I enjoy writing like all fanfiction writers do. I downplay my struggles a lot and make jokes out of things but it doesn't mean I want to quit or don't enjoy it.

I don't know what your intention was here exactly, if you're genuinely trying to get me to give up writing, or trying to understand, or something else, but if you're trying to understand, you should really be more polite and consider your wording better in the future.

I won't respond to another ask like this and I'm pretty sure I haven't even explained myself properly because I genuinely struggle with getting my thoughts out in a way others understand, but if anyone does send anything along these lines again, I'll delete it.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5473

Jalsa, Mumbai                   Feb 9/10,  2023                Thu/Fri  9:40 AM

🪔 .. February 10 ..

birthday

joys to

Ef Rahul Sen

, from The City Of Joy , Kolkata .. prayers and wellbeing .. 🌿🙏🏻🚩

.. and the affection of togetherness to

Ef Anat and her husband Daniel

.. for their 21st wedding anniversary on Feb 10 .. 💍💕 .. mazal tov ..

It is conformed fact that the night of correctness of slumber does indeed bring the life and will and energy to face another day with endeavour and the strength of body .. suddenly the weak outlook of the previous days evaporates in the mist of opportunity and gives another dimension to the 24 hrs that you have been introduced to .. 

And thus the extended slumber , just like the extended family is relentless in its presence with the energy and the rested will for the day ahead ..

The assist that is needed to manage is of prime .. directions to be taken to address the various avenues that erupt each hour , need attention in some order and professionalism .. 

Personnel required for such a device is of importance .. the trust the knowledge the know how to give comfort and allegiance to the employer becomes primary .. the search for this , is another challenge .. 

Some are most qualified and equipped to assess the possibilities and deliver the right choice and people to attend to the requirements .. most are not .. and yours truly falls in that category .. 

It is most difficult to get the right person for the right job .. but when they are chosen they deliver to the satisfaction of the need and that is an added advantage .. 

Some of the Ef have these qualaities and are most proficient , and one admires them and lauds their voluntary efforts .. I thank them for their design of inputs they give to make my life a lot easier - well life is never easy, but still ..

So .. there was talk the other day of decision , and the faults that your Blogmaester has in not being able to equip himself with that most essential quality of existence .. 

The suffering is still there .. the need most .. and the inadequacy is most prevailent .. but what is a day without unfulfilled desire .. unfulfilled work .. unfulfilled destined path ..

And ..

We labour , and face with sufficient rectitude the storms that blow before and above us , with fortitude and the strength of belief and prayer ..

Work has taken a while to formulate ..

But , with the hope and profess of many , hopefully it shall soon be formative .. unknown and uncertainty not withstanding ..

A lot has been given to read and assess .. the scripts and facts of what the nature of the work should be .. and that is to be decided .. decided yes, another factor of decision making .. but we shall make efforts and bring all the creative intellect , limited in its being, before us and move ahead .. with of course the blessings of you and many like you .. 🙏 ..

There are many desired inclinations of many to spend time with them, to be present to present myself and my story of life .. 

This is a matter of great mirth .. 

My story and my life ..? 

It is of no value to be shared or given in a standing of learning for another, as they that come forward , put it .. its an embarrassement for me .. unqulified altogether .. 

NO .. 

I am incapable of doing so , or even attempting to accept such promulgations ..

I am content with what the Ef gives .. what the common man sees and acknowledges .. what the audience see and react .. that is enough .. the profession is professed and assessed by they for whom it has been professed .. that is all .. do not try to attach more than that , bevcause there is none more ..

End of argument .. 

End of the DAY today 

Love hope and will to all .. ❤️❤️❤️🌹

Amitabh Bachchan

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 61

I could hear Frost breathing hard as the trainers fussed over her. I wanted to look back and see what happened, but the treadmill kept going. Clarity had set some automatic program I was helpless to stop. With her preoccupied there was no one to stop it.

All I could do was run and listen to them fuss over her. I could hear them asking her questions about the pain. One idiot even asked if she could move her ankle like there was any significant movement we could do in these damn boots.

“What happened?” The barn went quite again as Eos’s voice boomed through the room. The only noise came from me and others like me that were stuck running on a treadmill that wouldn’t let up. “I asked what happened!”

“Mistress Eos.” I could hear Natalie speak up. “We had a broken hoof situation on one of the stallions and I went over to assist. There were no trainers nearby. We heard a yelp and when we rushed over Frosthoof was on the ground.”

There was a tense moment of silence. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was happening behind me. I could only assume Eos was pissed off.

“Frosthoof?” I could hear Eos take a few more steps down Frost.

“I m-mistepped, Mistress Eos.” Frost said between deep breaths. “I lost my balance and I couldn’t recover.”

I was shocked. I assumed she was going to sell me out immediately as the one that was distracting her. Frost seemed to be Eos’s favorite, why take any blame?

“Hm…” I felt my chest tighten, Eos didn’t sound convinced.

I saw a gloved hand come into view and press a few buttons. The treadmill slowed down and eventually came to a stop. I was thankful I could finally stop running, my feet were killing me.

That gratitude came to an end as Eos walked in front of me. She was still dressed in that stupid horse riding outfit. It seemed pointless when there weren’t any actual horses here to ride.

“Callidora, you’re stationed next to Frosthoof. What happened?”

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Saying I was at fault could get Frost in trouble for lying as well as getting Lucky and Clover punished again. If I agreed with Frost and said that she simply tripped and it was found out I was lying Frost, Lucky, and Clover could still be punished. Who knew where microphones might be? There could be cameras everywhere. Why wouldn’t Eos have eyes on the entire farm?

I needed to split the difference.

“What she said is true, E-... Mistress Eos.” I decided to use her dumb title to hopefully work to smooth things over. “I heard her lose her balance and fall as her treadmill was slowing down.”

Her eyes were boring into mine. I wanted to match her energy and stare back, but deep down I knew the correct thing to do to try to keep defusing the situation. I broke eye contact and looked down at the floor.

“However, I had said something to her and caught her off guard. She may have tripped, but my words were the instigating factor.”

It was too late to take it back now. I had admitted fault. I could only hope that sharing the burden would save everyone from the full fury.

Before Eos could say anything the door to the room opened again. I could hear a few people entering. I wasn’t sure why there were here, but they came at a really bad time if they wanted to use the equipment.

“Mistress Eos.” An unfamiliar voice came from behind me. “We brought equipment for a transfer, would you like Frosthoof moved to a medical stall?”

Of course it was too much to ask that someone injured got to go into a normal room to get checked out. I wasn’t sure what kind of medical staff she had, but it unfortunately made far too much sense that they just shoved them into another set of stalls. I was surprised Eos could restrain herself enough not to call them vets.

“Yes, move her.”

Finally Eos moved out of sight. I could still feel her nearby, probably supervising the process. I could hear the noises of Frost’s outfit as she was probably placed onto a gurney or whatever they used to move her. It just felt like another insult to injury to have to listen to all the restraints rattling as she was carried away. Had Frost not been wearing these damn boots she wouldn’t be hurt.

Part of me had just expected Eos to leave with Frost. That was too much for me to hope for. I saw her hand come into view again, clipping a leash to the front of my harness. I felt someone messing with the restraints attached to the back of it, probably Clarity unhooking me.

“Lets go, Callidora.” Eos gave the leash a few tugs and began to walk.

Despite my deepest instincts telling me tackle her, I managed to just follow her out of the room and back into the hallway. The ones that took Frost were nowhere to be seen. Just the kind of efficiency expected when messing up could get your tied to a post and lashed.

“Honestly I’m surprised you have any kind of medical staff here.” I gave the minimum effort in keeping the bitterness out of my voice. Part of me wondered if the medical staff were slaves as well. Taken away from saving the lives of regular people to watch over her farm instead. “What’s going to happen to her? She going to get a chance to recover or are you just going to dump her because you’re allowed to do whatever you want with her?

“Callidora.” I could hear the rare bit of anger creeping into Clarity’s voice.

“I’m not a monster, Callidora.” Eos said without an ounce of self awareness. “Frost is a high performer and it would be stupid of me to just get rid of her. She’ll have her chance to recover and show she can still accomplish as much as she was before. Would your coach have made you run on a busted ankle?”

And there was the truth. Frost was one of her best racers. If these races were anything like regular horse racing then there was probably a gambling aspect. Frost was probably a source of income for her. There was no altruism for not immediately putting Frost somewhere worse on the farm. It was a good financial decision for her to see if Frost would recover.

“Being the cause of an injury to one of my best ponies really should be enough for me to punish Lucky and Clover again as I promised I’d do.”

“N- wait. You promise.” I felt my heart drop at her words. Her smile told me that she knew that would be my reaction.

“Yeah, yeah. I said if you were good they’d be fine. Despite it not being your place to tell Frosthoof about Ember’s fate, you weren’t bad per se.” I could see Eos was trying to formulate an idea that she could justify as fair. “Lucky and Clover are off the hook. For now. But if Frosthoof doesn’t recover they’ll pay. I’ll flip a coin. One will stay with you, the other will become a permanent decoration in the barn. If you think what you’ve seen is bad so far… well Callidora you haven’t seen how bad it can truly get. Many slaves would think you’re in paradise right now.”

I didn’t even want to think about how much worse things could get. Worse than human ponies. Worse than humans permanently bound in a barn and being milked for the rest of their lives. Worse than becoming some kind of permanent decoration? My mind only had so many ideas and the last hing I wanted to risk was giving them more.

I felt her finger push my chin up so I’d make eye contact with her again.

“Thank me for my generosity, Callidora.”

I only paused for a second, knowing better than to give her a reason to inflict more pain on those on her horrible farm. I tried to help Frost, spare her from being taunted with the information from someone like Jude. Instead all I did was seal the fate of either Lucky or Clover if she didn’t recover. Two more lives made worse by my actions.

“Thank you, Mistress Eos.” Her name stuck bitterly to my tongue.

“Good girl, Callidora.”

I seethed at the way she talked to me. Talking down to me like she thought she really was so much better than I was. Like she’d be able to protect herself if even a quarter of those here turned against her.

A few moments later we walked out of the barn and towards an unfamiliar path. Clarity had said we had some training regime but it seemed Eos didn’t particularly care.

“Where are we going?” I finally said, feeling annoyed that we were just walking off somewhere without indicating why we were leaving the barns.

“Clarity.” Eos sighed.

We stopped for a moment and Clarity held up my bit. “Please lean down, Callidora.”

My annoyance had apparently gotten my speaking “privileges” revoked. I bent down a bit and opened my mouth. There wasn’t much else I could do. Clarity placed it in my mouth and quickly tightened it. A bit more harshly than she had previously.

With Eos satisfied we continued our walk. I felt a little nervous as we hit a path going towards the woods. The last time we had taken a walk into the woods we had gone to the cow barn. That was in the other direction though.

“I told you that we generally punish others in the place of our best ponies. That ‘generally’ is important because there are tons of punishments we could inflict on our ponies if we wanted too. There are so many punishments that don’t physically hurt anyone.”

Our destination came into view. A row of something that resembled the frames the cow slaves had been locked in. There were eight of them. At the moment they were all empty.

“The idea for the cow slave frames came from there. Farmhands that don’t live up to expectations were once brought here and placed in these for a week.” She turned to me and had the gall to smirk. “Helped them realize there were worse things than having to work here. I have better methods now though.”

She pulled out a key and unlocked the frame. My heart sank as I realized what was about to happen.

“Call me sentimental, but I just couldn’t get rid of these. Instead they have a new purpose. They’re now here to give mares a taste of their own stupidity. Let them experience the cow life so they can make an informed decision about the fate they seem like they’re eager to have for reasons that escape me.” She stood aside and gestured towards the frame. “Step in Callidora. I suggest you listen or these frames might have two new permanent residents.”

Her threat stole the fight from me before I could even start. I stared at the frame for a few more seconds before I walked towards it. What else was I going to do? Run? Eos and Clarity would catch me. I was on a dirt trail in these boots.

There was a small piece of metal I knew I was supposed to lay across. When I did my neck was in the perfect position for a collar shaped piece of the frame to shut around it. Eos wasted no time closing that, already sealing my fate.

I had seen there was a part of the frame used to hold the arms, just like the frame in the cow barn, but with my arms already in a binder Clarity didn’t seem to bother with it. What she did was pull my legs far outwards and lock them in.

Laying like this made my tits hang off the seat. I was sitting like the cow slaves in the barn were. Uncomfortable, unable to escape, and with my tits out to be milked. In someways I knew I was more comfortable than they were. Those slaves were held but a series of chains, cuffs, and bars. They didn’t have the “luxury” of a plate to rest their body weight on. Something that had to be extremely painful on its own, but worse when subjected to whatever formula engorged their breasts.

“Callidora.” Eos spoke up, breaking the silence. I was unable to do anything but stare at the ground. It wasn’t like I could answer her. “I’m planning on having a race very soon with a very special prize. My recommendation for you is this. When I let you out of here I’d put my heart and soul into making sure you’re ready for it. Because if I don’t think you really want to be a pony, you’ll be going into the cow barn. I’m already fed up with you. You’ll be spending the rest of your life in a frame very similar to this one with nothing to do. No other ponies to talk to like you’ve gotten to do so far, the cows are gagged for a reason. Just mind numbing boredom.”

I saw Eos’s boots come into view. She knelt down and grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, forcing my head up at far as the frame would allow.

“Your fate is entirely in your hands. You can do what you’re told and be rewarded or continue this attitude and get punished. You’re going to get a fun glimpse into what your life could be like if you keep messing up. Consider this your last chance to impress me.”

When she let go of my hair my head practically shot back down to the ground. My chest was tight with panic. When we were in the barn she hadn’t seen that upset, but now I knew she was simply keeping her emotions under control in front of her slaves. She had no issue letting me know how frustrated she was with me when there wasn’t anyone to see.

“Clarity, place these on her.” I heard a jiggle above me. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew it was going to be another punishment.

“Yes, Mistress Eos.”

I saw Clarity next to me with something in her hand. She placed a hand on my breast and I instinctively tried to pull away, but the frame held me still. A few moments later a stab of pain hit my nipple. As I tried to wiggle away from it there was just a chorus of jingling. While I was trying to figure out what was happening I felt a stabbing pain on my other nipple.

I felt like an idiot when I realized what they were. Nipple clamps with bells on them. I had seen various other pony slaves with them on. Usually the ones that were pulling a cart.

“No auto-milkers out here for you to wear for the next few hours. Maybe some clamps will do. If nothing else it’ll give you something to listen too.”

I watched Eos’s boot vanish as she walked behind me. A second later my backside exploded with pain as she hit my ass as hard as she could.

“Enjoy the peace of the woods, Callidora. Use this time to think wisely. There are two paths before you. Becoming a pony might be hard, but it's much more rewarding than the easy path. I have an open framing in the milking barn if you want it that bad though.”

I managed to hold myself together as they walked away, leaving me alone in the middle of the woods. Once I was by myself though I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Every sob and heave was accompanied by the mocking sound of a bell.

[bestworstcase]

Hi, I really love your thoughts and analysis on tts so I wanted to ask if you have read The Vanishing Village Book? It made me really think about Eugene's character. I sorta disliked him in the book and felt his relationship with Rapunzel was different and strained. I guess my question is if you think Eugene is a good character? I feel that I am biased for liking the story and relationship between Cassandra and Rapunzel so perhaps I am not seeing him in a fair light but there's just factors that make me feel he might not be the best for Rapunzel. I love their relationship and value & dedication towards each other but their relationship can feel a bit stale sometimes and Eugene can come off as not understanding and dismissive towards Rapunzel sometimes so ig I'd like to be proven wrong and be reminded that Eugene is good for Rapunzel

i have read vanishing village (and i remember liking it better than lost lagoon) but i have to admit i don’t remember anything but the very broad strokes of the plot, so i don’t feel equipped to do any analysis of eugene based on it; that being said -

i do really like eugene as a character in the sense that he is. interesting / engaging / compelling, which yeah to my mind that’s what makes a “good character” but also has nothing to do with the, kind of, moral or personal question of but is he a good guy or is he likable or sympathetic or that kind of thing. and on that my feelings are more ambivalent kfjfjdhs

on the one hand i do find his relationship with rapunzel in tts to be fairly refreshing. it’s nice to see a fictional m/f couple that is just… comfortable with each other, friends with each other, able to talk about their problems collaboratively with each other. that is so rare in fiction, where the tendency is so often to rely on miscommunication to manufacture relationship drama or do the will they won’t they, on again off again nonsense which is just so tiresome - and it feels good to have a m/f couple that eschews that altogether. and it’s also imo really nice that the m/f relationship fades so much into the background vis a vis the wider plot, which i know is not necessarily a popular opinion [vague gestures at all the ‘eugene was sidelined’ discourse] but, like, i feel like i can count on one hand the number of stories i know where the female protagonist *has a male love interest* without the story being ABOUT him, and with the male love interest filling this supportive narrative role while quietly and subtly dealing with his own problems on the side? it’s so difficult to find stories where men aren’t centered and so i appreciate eugene and new dream a lot for that reason too.

but at the same time like - eugene def falls victim to the plot-driven writing just like every other character does and that frustrates me because i think ultimately having all these loose threads hanging with him means his character feels a bit stagnant, and that in turn makes his flaws more glaring because they’re never… worked on or addressed, they just sort of persist or silently fade away for the most part. (which again, is true of literally every character because the storytelling of tts is highly plot driven and episodic)

& that phenomenon can make character interpretation a little convoluted, because… well the intentions of the narrative are signaled pretty baldly (eugene grows out of his selfishness and becomes a compassionate hard working leader for corona, which he has embraced as his home) without having much if any on-screen development to back it up (indeed the premise of flynnposter involves eugene shirking his new responsibilities, and then it concludes with a commitment from him to take the captain gig seriously - but thereafter the only time we get to see this demonstrated through him encouraging project obsidian [which makes him look the opposite of compassionate or responsible given he is excitedly planning to extrajudicially murder cassandra] and then joining the fight against zhan tiri [which literally everyone in corona does]). so do we take what the textual development shows us and conclude that eugene is, at the end of the day, just another cop, or do we take the narrative signaling as a given and fill in the textual gaps with our own imaginations? i tend to fall heavier on the textual side but i do try to take intentions into consideration when they are signaled so clearly, because i understand the structural and corporate limitations on what the tts team were able to do with the story.

anyways - i also have some fraught feelings about new dream because, in the film, it’s not a relationship that i can buy into at all. rapunzel is 17, a few days shy of 18, when an adult man in his mid-twenties tumbles into her bedroom, hits on her, tries to take advantage of her naïveté so he can recover his stolen goods and screw her over because he’s spent his life cultivating an attitude of selfish disregard for anyone but himself, but she’s so sweet he decides to give emotional vulnerability a try and within three days they’re in love and then they get MARRIED?? and he’s literally the first person rapunzel has ever met who wasn’t her “mother”? excuse me???

and i get the impression the tts team was fully cognizant of that problem and made a real effort to address it, as much as they could within the context of the designated disney princess couple - that’s how we get things like the BEA proposal and rapunzel and eugene talking their feelings out afterwards and agreeing to take things slower, and that’s how we get things like rapunzel having cass and eugene having lance so they have lives and identities and relationships outside of each other, and it’s why eugene has a little arc of becoming less self-absorbed in the front half of s1 and why cassandra overtly criticizes his treatment of rapunzel in BEA and so on and so forth. like no one says it OUT LOUD in the series but rapunzel’s and eugene’s relationship is fraught with peril because of the way they met and came together, and it takes significant emotional work from both of them to navigate that to arrive at a healthy place, and i enjoy watching that play out.

so yeah eugene is sometimes too in his own head to notice when something is wrong with rapunzel, like how he misses how unhappy she is in BEA because *he’s* so jazzed about palace living, and sometimes they struggle to get on the same page with each other in general; but that’s just, kind of the gig where relationships are concerned. what matters to me is that whenever these hiccups happen we see, typically some confusion or distress from him or rapunzel or both, and then they reach out for each other and talk about it until they reach an understanding, which is the correct healthy way to manage this sort of conflict in a relationship. and of course through it all eugene is pretty unflagging in his absolute support of rapunzel - even if he doesn’t always *express it* in a good way, he is always very invested in rapunzel’s happiness and well-being. like even the BEA proposal, eugene’s fuck up lies in assuming that rapunzel felt the same way he did about everything and that proposing now would make her happy - there’s self-absorption there but not to the point where he isn’t concerned about her feelings, so when he upsets her he immediately realizes that he screwed up and shelves his own feelings to focus on hers, which is very Good Partner of him.

and then again on a metatextual level i do kind of hate that rapunzel’s arc is essentially, trapped in corona -> adventure! -> adventure is traumatic time to go home -> exact same circumstances she started in but she’s happy about it now. not to say i object to rapunzel embracing her role as a princess/queen per se, but in an ideal world i would like that to come from a place of rapunzel remaking her role to suit herself rather than just kind of… this ‘well got the wanderlust out of my system forever!’ vibe i get from plus est. this isn’t directly related to eugene at all but i think it does splash over onto him on account of him being so closely intertwined with her life in corona. if rapunzel were given an arc about tearing down institutions that stifled her in s1 and really rebuilding corona to be better (something that is lightly implied in canon but never quite makes its way to outright text) then of course eugene would have been her number one supporter - but she doesn’t get that arc and so eugene ends up just kind of being there while rapunzel settles into the role laid out for her. (the destiny narrative being played painfully straight in this regard doesn’t help either.)

this is all a bit of a ramble but i guess what i’m getting at is i think at the end of the day the thing that makes new dream feel a bit stale or stagnant is the series sticking to this aggressively pro-monarchy, status quo is good, mass market appeal narrative enforced by the reality of Disney Princess Show, and that’s not eugene’s fault or any character’s fault, it’s a corporate issue and writing issue.

oh and also personally i think eugene’s biggest flaw in the new dream relationship is he has a tendency to enable rapunzel’s worst impulses via unquestioning support - a little healthy skepticism can be very good for a relationship vs just being your partner’s yes man. so when i imagine a character trajectory for him post-series it involves eugene getting more comfortable pushing back when rapunzel is pursuing ideas that are bad in some way.

[vonaegiremblem]

Now that I have 100%’d Ring Fit Adventure (at least the base game -- I’ve just started the new game plus, and I hear there’s a new game plus plus), it is now time for me to collect my thoughts and spew them at you, the reader.

I think Ring Fit Adventure really succeeds where I assume Wii Fit failed. I say “assume” because my family never actually owned the game or its peripheral. From what I’ve seen, however, there really wasn’t much to keep you playing. You either did the exercises or you played the minigames, which didn’t seem like all that great of exercise. I think there may have been some record of improvement and weight lost, but frankly I don’t really know. Ring Fit Adventure, on the other hand, keeps you coming back because it has so much palpable progress, mostly due to the combination of RPG elements and exercising. Both RPGs and working out have self-motivation factors. With working out, it’s things like having an easier time doing the exercises, seeing how many calories you’ve burned, and seeing how far you’ve run. With RPGs, you have things like seeing your level go up, progressing through the story, and, specifically in Ring Fit, clearing courses. 

Now, I’m not going to touch on every little motivating factor, but I do want to talk about how the story for the most part is just stupid and funny enough for most of the worlds that you want to keep playing to find out what happens. For instance, one of the characters literally turns a bunch of kids into ghosts because they called him old, and he got upset because he’s in his mid-to-late twenties. That is so funny to me. Another character became a biceps master just because he wanted a girlfriend, and he got sad when people only came to his dojo to learn how to train their biceps. This game just has a lot of charm.

Speaking of charm, there’s a ton of small touches that the game does really well. Weaker enemies will start to shake with fear as you charge up certain attacks. You attack with these sort of projections of the body parts that you are working out. Other characters that use these have their own versions of these based off of their proportions. Half of the enemies are some weird fusion of animal and exercise equipment. These little things elevate a somewhat average looking (ironically it kind of looks like the food kingdom in Mario Odyssey) game with a somewhat average soundtrack (excluding the Battle Gym Theme, that’s a fucking bop) to something higher.   

I think what the game does best, however, is its take on exercise culture. The game never mocks or scorns you for failure. It is always happy that you return even if its been a couple days. It even encourages you not to play if you don’t feel up to it that day. The game perhaps shows its best hand with Dragaux, the main antagonist of the game, and a huge buff dragon that probably awoke some things in some people. He is the natural end point of someone who exercises too much. He constantly beats himself up when you defeat him in battles and actively tries to force people to exercise in an unhealthy way. As you play through the game, you learn that he used to be kind and wanted to open special exercise arenas for public use. When you finally beat him after 23 worlds of chasing him down, he admits that he basically got taken over by feelings of self-doubt and spiraled into what you ended up facing throughout the game. The game ends with various characters realizing many of their own faults and working to overcome them. It the ends with messages like, “You’re never too old to improve”, “it’s okay to trust other people and show weakness”, and “it’s okay to be a little jealous of others, but you should also examine how much you yourself have grown.”

Now, the game isn’t all perfect. I do think there are some areas that could have been improved upon. There are only so many levels and themes. After a while you run into repeats . . . a lot. Now, I never felt any fatigue from seeing and running the same levels a bunch of times, since, you know, I was exercising during them, but I think that could have been a turn off for some. My other big gripe is that the game balance is a little screwy. Yeah, I know it’s kinda up to the player to diversify their moveset, but the game hands you options that are just far better than anything else on more than one occasion. I remember getting the Overhead Hip Shake fairly early, and it was just so much easier and stronger than everything else I had that it was kind of hard not to just choose it at the start of every battle. The last, like, 4/5 of the skills I got before beating the game were abs/core based and all of them were of equal or greater power compared to all my other skills, so I either had to let my set be weaker or throw off its color balance by putting a bunch of extra ab skills in it. In the end, it also seems like various exercise types kinda got relegated to specific purposes. Arm skills were for hitting single enemies, leg skills were for hitting 3 enemies, yoga skills were for hitting all enemies, and ab skills could kinda do everything. It just kind of seems like ab skills are just favored a little bit over the others. 

Oh, this is kind of a minor complaint, but you basically never have to use the healing fit skills. Since you can use smoothies with no penalty, you basically do not need them, and eventually you get so many hearts and damage blocking skills that you rarely ever lose more than 4 hearts. At least you can actually just do them in the various exercise fits outside of Adventure mode.

Overall, though, even with my complaints, Ring Fit Adventure is an excellent game for exercising and the $80 dollar price tag is understandable given that you can still just use the Ring Con as a Pilates ring after you stop playing. And I didn’t even touch on the fact that this game teaches you how to do a ton of exercises you can just do without equipment. This game is easily the best take I’ve seen on an exercise game, and you should absolutely try and pick it up if you want to exercise and are interested in the game

[captainkurosolaire]

Destined ‘X’ Forever

“Ye wouldn’t b’ doin’ anything that’d take a special kind ov’ stupid now would ya’ ma’ Lord?” A cheeky rattle hit in a echo of the barren Ruins. For all intended reasoning's this wasn’t a planned encounter. Last he saw his Noble other halve was after attempting to salve some helpful advice to put him in a discovery. Though what the amber optic witnessed was anything but the type of discovery he meant. The pirate meant from the self. This was someone who couldn’t move on. Didn’t know how. This is hurt. He had been there, embraced it, and the result damaged him past the point of repair a self-searing that he still hadn’t entirely resolved. And forever because he couldn’t contain or control his heartbreak he discredited and discarded it. Letting it coal until he lost himself and a savage feasted on his homed temple. A severance between souls. A path to nefarious and damaging for anything that crossed was a clear future for Elune. If he paid the price and fed that side of demonizing that festered in all thing’s in varied degrees of morality. He would become consumed with dangerous and devastating levels that may scar him in irrecoverably.

                   “I..hate..you.” Muttered off breath before turning to face and direct to ensure this was more personal his regality was cracking he was so shortly an ilm away from being granted his wishful desire by utilizing a forbidden relic that protruded a hint of Mhachi. However, by activating this, It’d cost his last remaining dignity, his humanity he akin to most chose to run from it thinking and disassociating it as ‘weakness’ for the appearance and value it often represented no-good. He was possessed and consumed with the empty. That hollow part of losing a piece that stabled and made you feel wholly, he had forgotten what living was like without it after a sip. Without something to protect to be any meaning, he found himself misplaced. Knights didn’t exist without their duties or their morals to wage crusades in belief or service; they were dull like any Samurai in the obligated swords sworn after they slew their intended advisory it was weightless and immeasurable. None of that crossed his mind that once was recognized and pristine for being intelligent, all other forms living or to be sacrificed were insignificant, they could all be shriveled and pay the price even if it brought utter devastation and internal turmoil to that which he so starved to have returned to him. This resentment stood beyond even their current vessel’s their souls were entwined to contest. Negatives and positives. “I hate you. I hate everything about you, your stupid hat, your trashy ingrate demeanor. All of it! Hate is my sum for you.. You--- you’re, why I am here in this position. You cost me, my world! If you weren’t such an irritating blight, I would’ve never lost control… I’d still have them!” Flailing his arms out in the arm like a tampered child throwing his blame. The crystallized air around him howled in chimed ice sang like a banshee as his instability continued. Captain swallowed soft listening before presenting a stepped chortle and follow, “You need a tissue? Or a tampon for yer leakage?” The Seeker fired back as during that entire rant he just nodded his head. “Mate, I’ll b’ straight blunt yer being a bitch. O’ boohoo, ye lost something in your sheltered life, you in your fancy Ishgardian Walls always catered and given and throwing a hissy fit when ye didn’t get something fer Starlight. Your rant is the same shite I’d get from a dozen of stuttering cucks at the Quicksands for me so effortlessly tossing their lass over my shoulder and tending to them from their plagued bore. -Ye hate me? What a crock… Matey you don’t hate me, you just hate yourself. You got caught, ye won a battle but I got in your most prized place -- your head. Fail to understand your performance in our last skirmish saw you ACTING more like a pirate than a noble. Ye can’t get those thoughts ov’ me outta your mind… How naughty.” Tsking with a finger waggle further adding antagonizing fuel with even more expression by holding his chest to shield his exposure in that unnerving smug. “Standing over there and wanting t’ talk about hatred and losses. Ye murdered my near entire crew, ye tried dismantling another. Ye kidnapped my Star Healer and stole her away to fuck who knows where and then n’ your whole, ‘I gotta be th’ Elite White Shining Knight’, ye let her suffer alone and vanish to silence! Ye point and like t’ remind others of their failures, their faults, but conjure a solid mirror with that fancy-dancy magick. Leviathan… I gave ye an ale and I didn’t even charge ye on your last visit t’ my Cabin. I told you…! I warned you…! I did more than enough in my part, so-wait, is this what I’m missing out on sticking around for parenthood? Just sheer disappointment? This was supposed t’ be your discovery, but let me guess, the only thing you figured out in this entire time is that, ‘O I’ve got a dick, so well, I must be one and I’ll damn the rest in my way even the ones I love? Not even factoring their own thoughts? YOU aren’t wanted back. There’s isn’t any riveting other reasoning why they discarded themselves from you.” He unleashed every form of his smash-mouth and laid out the crass even if overkill. Thick skulls often were swelled in ego and ego was born often of entitled never spoken against, here enters the brazen. All the while Shiro’s fist rattled and quenched his inner demonic price for all his sin’s and wrongs began transforming and corrupting his veins, his roots that stemmed inside became a grotesque green. “Enough! What does the pirate know of actual loss and pain? You are thieves, takers, you’re scum. Compassion and your kind don’t mix, nor does it exist. Use everything and leave, you can’t even remain devoted to a single solitary thing. Always roaming without purpose to the next big thing for your greed. Making every little detail’s about yourself. Do not forget, I met your crew… None of them are innocent. It didn’t matter which you led. They were all heathens. Neither of them could listen to their betters. They didn’t respect anyone outside you, and when you were missing and disappeared on your so-called ‘shipwreck’ those who salvaged and carried your flag paid your price. You brought them into a War against a literal Sea Empire. None of them were equipped or readied. And without me, they would’ve all been slaughtered maggots. They even wanted to kill each other and decapitate the latter to get some heroic favors or get into the panties of your ‘woman’ you led only a cult of unwashed stains. Threatening like the barbarians you raised to even lash out at my sister because her own heart was on the opposing side. Who even was brainwashed and used as another pawn on the board though despite that fact their inbreed tribal and unorthodox wild crew of yours was but the essence of chaos. You mere peasants outside the Pillars and the arrogance you bestow, are far grander than anything we harbor.” Now it was the Keeper’s turn to verbally unleash a hailstorm. They bickered like an old couple cover many generations of grudges. Building their resentments and hatred until… that moment where there wasn’t going any back and one swung. The words actually began rattling against the Captain’s inner instincts and primal urges. For his own bonded knot was mentioned and brought up. The tone of Shiro’s higher ‘superiority’ shout echoed against the blank and outdoor ruins in a condense clap. Was steering and disturbing a slumber that snarled, his complexion became more heated. Irregular and unnatural... The scoundrel’s blood began surging. Weapons in War only ever are mentioned what was used to quell or the materialistic solution. Never in mentioning how any War or Battle began. Often originated from disputes. The contesting of disagreement is what drew first-blood before any sharp dared part flesh from. “What th’ seventh hell did ye say?” The ruffian stepped in closer even against biting and foreboding chills. A vein vessel popping out of his forehead. Shiro’s visage turned to a dastardly and deviled one impractical aetherial horn’s started to lowly form on his temple. “Many things and all I assure you, I mean them all. Your crew was worthless they lapped up and swam under your dirty seawater. You a Captain? A joke, your, -kind- don’t have admirable emotions or hearts, you are written as heartless and crude as you’ll always be known utter tasteless, savaged buffoons. THAT is your booked cover and shall always be to me and anyone else with somewhat wit.” The Seeker’s steps continuing forward his framework began bulking up hit by a nerve earlier. Every part of Shiro’s weighted words came from a merciless and mean intent. Making every remark sound as categorized and labeled as possible. The first step of all Jailers and those that hide behind anything against the grain or that make them feel even the slightest uncomfortable about the insecurities often came from classification putting a firm distinction between someone else innocently in the cross-hairs to try so desperately to distance themselves and stay on their elevated ladders, artificial thrones above someone. Despite that answer wasn’t what left a sour look on the mug of the rugged slicker those didn’t seem to be what triggered him.    “No, the other.”  He corrected calmly his stance seemed like a preparing lunge.

Shiro knew all too well what he said and brought a gleeful sinister grin to further elaborate the struck cord. “Ah right, the pathetic and high-excuse of a complex woma--” Right before he could finish that deplorable remark. The Blackguard used a rash Ghost Step (Shukuchi) to close in and lob for a full-force spinning roundhouse.   (Previous)  — /References/ —   ♫ ‘Invincible ♫ — (Next Page)

[jackctt]

Released from police custody and the young heister slinked home with his tail between his legs. The chatter of the superintendent-in-charge still ringing clear in his head, a remak chucked his way before he left. ‘ You poor thing, getting left behind by your team like that. It's always them over you. You’re dispensable. ’ They’d been so close, so close to completing their objective when SWAT sent in the real muscle and began picking them off like flies in the sewer. It must be a collective effort that the task had failed, mission equipment left behind at the site, a gun run out of ammunition—- yet Sokol can only bristle whenever he thinks about how Jacket chose to help Wolf up over him. Lets his discontentment and hurt (?) manifest in strange ways. “ You are shit at fighting, you know that? ” Two hands shove the other man backwards— Brave, considering how frightened he had been of him in the kitchen. It's complicated by how good it feels to put his hands on him. Fuck, another thought to mull over tonight. “ Just hold gun and shoot instead of being useless. ” He’s not jealous, just… feels indignant that he should've been given a second fighting chance to make things right again.

𝐇𝐄   𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐕𝐄   𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇   𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄,   stumbles   back   with   the   same   dead   expression   as   always.   eyes   worn,   unwilling   to   feed   into   the   game   of   ego   with   the   younger   of   the   two.   when   noted   of   his   teammates   befalling   unto   the   hands   of   police   he   was   already   on   his   way   to   drag   Wolf   to   his   feet   (   𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣,   𝙝𝙚   𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩   𝙖𝙙𝙙   )   ----   and   thought   it   perhaps   a   noted   loss   to   double   back   given   he   was   with   another   already.   though   he   relives   the   moment   of   pause   he   gave   as   he   gazed   back   at   the   sewer   grate   where   their   escape lie.   where   his   teammate   lie   under   the   boot   of   S.W.A.T.   the   way   venom   curls   in   his   tongue,   tenses   upon   his   nerves   at   the   thought   again.   swell   of   rage   couldn’t   save   them   from   the   oppressing   forces   of   police,   try   as   he   might.   and   this?   ...   this   was   simply   the   fallout.

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓   𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄   𝐀𝐍   𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓   𝐓𝐎   𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓   𝐇𝐈𝐌.   perhaps   it’s   that   he’s   just   too   tired.   the   act   of   licking   his   wounds   while   sitting   there   stagnant   in   the   dull,   lifeless   cell   had   been   one   of   wounded   egos   and   bitterness.   blame   thrown,   accusing   glances   and   silence   sharpened   into   a   blade,   overall   disappointment.   𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔   𝙁𝘼𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿?   𝙃𝙊𝙒   𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿   𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔   𝙁𝘼𝙄𝙇.   allows   for   the   deafening   silence   to   take   hold   in   the   cell   they   shared,   thankful   the   other   two   didn’t   have   to   witness   the   way   he   near   effortlessly   gave   to   the   shove.   nearing   the   edge   of   some   soured   ego   he   had   beneath   the   silence,   he   bristles   gently   at   the   blame   thrown   entirely   upon   him.   tape   recorder   raised   with   some   annoyed   expression   upon   his   complexion.

“   i   made   a   mistake.   --   “

𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓   𝐈𝐓   𝐌𝐀𝐘   𝐁𝐄   𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓   𝐓𝐎   𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃,   the   intent   of   his   speech   was   not   to   convey   guilt   but   exasperation   at   his   one   mistake   being   pinned   for   the   entirety   of   their   failings.   scrabbled   together   pieces   of   words   to   try   and   force   his   understanding   ---   his   perception   into   the   tense   air   between   them.

“   rust   ---   following   ---   sokol   “

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑   𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍   𝐓��𝐄   𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒   𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒   𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.   the   clipping   of   the   words   clear   for   the   most   part,   but   aggressive   in   the   way   they’re   preceded   by   the   harsh   click   with   each   delivery.   final   words   cluttered   with   static,   making   the   words   near   muddled   and   exacerbating   his   oddity   factor   by   the   reverb   in   the   cell.   and   the   rather   peppy   delivery   of   the   words   don’t   help   either.

“   it   is   imperative   that   you   --   it   is   not   my   fault.   “

[rhetoricalrogue]

Making a House a Home

I got hit with one of those ideas that come to you in the middle of the night.  What if the detective decided to move from their default apartment into different places around Wayhaven?  What would their love interests think?  Slight end of book 2 spoilers for Zoe’s ficlet.

Ava and Lucas

“It’s too exposed.”

“It’s a modern loft, it’s supposed to be exposed.”

She ran her fingers over one of the many windows, her mouth set in a frown.  “There’s a huge security threat downstairs. You never know who is coming or going at any point in the day.��

Lucas nodded. “One of the reasons I picked this spot.  Plus, a coffee house that’s open almost 24 hours right downstairs and a gym that is open all day directly next door? Ava, this spot was practically made for me.”

Her frown lightened as she made her way through the empty apartment. There wasn’t much of a kitchen, but what was there was made out of updated equipment. She could already see him using the concrete countertops to prep his weekly meals.  He was fond of entertaining, and the open area that made up the living room was large enough to comfortably host gatherings.

Climbing the stairs, she looked at the bedroom critically. There were massive closets on either side of a door leading to a spacious master bathroom that she had no doubt would fit his entire wardrobe and then some.

A singular thought occurred to her that there would be plenty of room for her here as well, if she wanted it.

“What do you think?” He asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin at her shoulder.

“The security concerns are going to need looking at,” she started, softly leaning back until his chest was pressed against her back.

“But…?”

She made a hrmphing noise. “It’s suitable. There’s a nice view.”

She could feel him smile against her cheek. “I like the view from here too.”

Adam and Aubrey

“Your commute to and from work should be shorter than it normally is.” Adam commented, standing at the window in the living room.  He could see the police station a half block away, quiet and closed off on a Saturday afternoon.

“It means that I’ll be able to get a good extra ten minutes of sleep in, plus maybe come home to grab lunch if I don’t feel like eating in the office,” Aubrey replied, walking around with a measuring tape in hand, already mentally deciding where her belongings would go in this new little townhouse.  

The garish pink walls would have to be painted over first thing. Judging by the way Adam had squinted as he stepped foot inside her new place, he wholeheartedly agreed. 

“It gets good light.  Your plants will be happy.”

“I’m feeling a but coming from you.  What are you thinking about?” Aubrey set her tape down at the kitchen counter so she could go over to him.  Adam was tense, his finger pressing down on the cheap plastic blinds so he could see out.  “I’m surprised that you haven’t said a peep about security.”

“Because security isn’t an issue.  I’ve already looked the place over and couldn’t find any faults there.  Besides, you now have a five minute walk home after work.”

She tipped her head. “Then what’s wrong?”

He flicked his finger, sending the blind springing back in place. “You used to have a fifteen minute walk before reaching your old apartment.”

Dawning realization hit and she smiled at him. “Adam, are you upset because our regular evening walks are going to be cut short?”

“That would be ridiculous.”  He let out a sharp sigh. “But it is a factor, ridiculous or not.”

Aubrey didn’t laugh, but she did wind her arm around his and press her head against his shoulder.  “Well,” she started. “I guess there’s only one solution to this dilemma.”

“And what would that be?”

“After you walk me home, you can just come inside to spend more time with me.”

He pretended to think her suggestion over before giving her a soft smile. “I believe that arrangement would be agreeable.”

Farah and August

“So, what do you think?”  August poked his head down from the lone bedroom in the tiniest house he’d ever owned.  Granted, it was the only house he’d ever owned, but that was neither here nor there.  He’d just signed the papers and the keys were his.

“I can almost touch one side of the wall with one hand and the other side with my other!” Farah exclaimed, looking in all the empty drawers where she could picture his things going. 

“This reminds me of a treehouse I had growing up. It was about this big and I used to love hanging out in it.”  He climbed down the ladder leading up to the little bedroom area and turned a crank that opened one of the windows overlooking a bare lot.  “And the bonus is that I can hook this up to my car and tow my house around wherever I want.  I’m not stuck in one location!”

“Maybe you could park it by the Warehouse,” she suggested.  “When it starts to get too busy in there, we could just hang out here, just the two of us.”

August grinned. “Actually, I was wondering what you thought about maybe getting something to commemorate the event? I was thinking about another fish.”

Farah laughed. “Auggie, you have a ten gallon tank for Mr. Fish already taking up some prime real estate. I don’t think you can fit another tank in here.”

He dug in his pockets. “Okay, so maybe not an actual fish, though I’m pretty sure I could persuade Mr. Fish to share his tank with one more roommate.” He held up a single key attached to a neon pink and yellow painted metal fish keychain.  “How about it? Wanna have a home of our own to hang out in?”

Farah didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, her gold eyes as large as saucers.  Then she quickly closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“Our home,” she breathed.  “I like the sound of that.”

Mason and Zoe

“Why are you moving again?” Mason asked, building another cardboard box for Zoe to throw her things in.  She wasn’t neat about it, just shoving what little things she owned into boxes and then scribbling what was inside in black marker on top.

There really wasn’t much to box up.  Mason had caught her in the middle of a cleaning frenzy one night right after the carnival, most of her belongings set in different piles.  He hadn’t questioned her when she asked him to take one pile out to the dumpster, though he happened to look inside a plastic crate to find numerous photo albums full of pictures with her and Verda’s family inside.

He’d tucked those away instead of giving them a dumpster burial.  He wasn’t certain what was going on between them, but knowing Zoe, she would regret doing something in anger sometime down the road.

“It’s too noisy here,” she told him, taking another box he built her and heading to the bathroom.  “Plus you hate my neighbors.”

“I don’t hate your neighbors,” he told her, watching as towels and toiletries got packed with a little more care before the box was labeled and carried to the now empty living room.  “Well, not all of them.  That lady one unit down is nosy as fuck.”

Zoe’s grim expression lifted for the briefest of moments. “That’s because she’s an old fashioned gossip who believes that men and women shouldn’t fornicate outside of wedlock.”

He grinned, pointed tips of his fangs showing. “Oh, so that’s why you made sure we were extra loud that one time I had you up against the wall you share with her.” 

“Maybe.”

“Still doesn’t answer me, Sweetheart.  What gives with the sudden move?”

Zoe stopped and looked around the place, then at the four boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the empty apartment.  Fuck, Mason thought.  Her life always feels bigger than just four measly little boxes, a guitar, and a few framed pieces of art.

“I need a fresh start,” she finally said, her voice low.  “This place…” her voice choked off when she noticed a small stuffed rabbit she’d missed sitting on a built-in bookshelf.  She went over to it and held it tightly to her chest, her breath coming out in a shaky wheeze.

“You already have a spot picked out?”

She shook her head. “Yeah. Harry’s got a place over his bar that’s coming up in a week or so that he said he’d cut me a deal on rent if I poured drinks during some of the busy weekend hours.”

“What about the meantime? Where’s all your furniture?”

Zoe ran her fingers over the stuffed rabbit and absently kissed the top of its head. “I put it in storage. Harry said I could couch surf at his place until my new digs were ready.”

He started to pull his packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, but stopped and offered her a package of chewing gum instead. “You could always stay at the Warehouse,” he casually suggested, watching as she took a stick of gum, that first whiff of mint as she took off the wrapper stinging his nose like too cold air on a winter morning.  “No need to couch surf when you’ve got a bed of your own.”

Zoe chewed thoughtfully before crouching down to open one of the boxes and carefully, lovingly, placing the bunny inside.  Mason caught the smallest portion of the word Cara embroidered on the rabbit’s foot before she closed the cardboard flaps once more.  “Harry’s couch is super uncomfortable,” she reasoned.  “And best friend or not, the man snores so loud you hear it through two closed doors.”

“So, you want me to take your stuff back with me?” the question of are you coming home with me was unspoken, but lingered in the air between them.

She licked her lips.  “Yeah.”  She sniffled as her eyes went to the box with Cara’s rabbit in it but then she blinked and gave him a smirk, taking hold of his hands and drawing him towards the shared wall they’d talked about earlier.  “But first, let’s say a proper goodbye to Old Lady Jenkins.  For old time’s sake.”   

Nate and Morgan and Rowena

“So, what do you think?”

Morgan stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shrugged.  “Still smells a little like old people in here.  They should have aired the place out before they showed it.”

Rowena smiled, but moved towards the large picture window in the formal living room and opened it, letting some fresh air into the place.  In her mind’s eye, she could already picture a piano taking front and center stage.  No tiny upright electronic thing that maybe sounded like an actual piano, but an honest to goodness instrument like the one she’d been carefully saving up for years to buy but never had room to house it.  There was room for a few comfy chairs and she could easily picture Nate sitting in one, a book from one of the beautifully crafted built-ins in his hand. 

Morgan perched atop the bare window seat and looked out over the front yard.  “It’s quiet.  Not a lot of traffic.”

“It’s a bit of a drive to work,” Rowena commented.  “But I think it’s worth it.”

“Closer drive to the Warehouse though.”  Morgan flipped through the flyer that the real estate agent had handed them as they entered.  “A little big for one person, don’t you think?”

Rowena shrugged.  “It’s a four bedroom.  I figured that one of the spares could be an office for me, another could be a library for Nate, and the third…” she sat down beside Morgan.  “It could be yours, if you wanted it.”

Morgan slowly turned from the window to look at her.  “What, no sharing one room?”

Rowena rolled her eyes.  “Come on, you’ve stayed a night with the two of us on my Queen sized bed.  Nate nearly ended up on the floor and I was pressed up against a wall.  Even if we upgrade to a King, it’s still going to be a tad bit cozy.”

“I dunno, Sweetheart.  I sort of liked pressing you up against a wall.”

Rowena leaned forward, brushing her lips against Morgan’s.  “So did I, just not when I was trying to sleep.  And besides,” she leaned back when she heard the real estate agent’s heels clack against the hardwood floor, “even if you’re not coming over for sex, it’d be nice to have a place of your own to enjoy the quiet, wouldn’t it?”

Morgan cast her eyes around the room.  “You know, it’s not a bad place.  Old person smell is starting to fade after all.”

Rowena smiled and ran a hand over Morgan’s thigh before giving her knee a fond pat.  “I’m going to see where Nate went off to.”

She didn’t have to look very far to find Nate carefully inspecting the cupboards in the kitchen.  “What do you think?” she asked, leaning against the large kitchen island.

“I think this house is lovely,” he replied, moving to lean beside her.  “If you don’t put in an offer, I will.”

“What if,” Rowena asked, leaning against his arm.  “We both put in an offer?”

Nate moved until he could wrap his arm around her, sighing contentedly when she immediately snuggled up close, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck.  “Are you suggesting, Detective Kingston, that we make a home here?  Together?”

“I am suggesting just that, Agent Sewell.  Does that sound like a good idea?”  A small part of her at the back of her mind was screaming that this was too soon, that what they had was still so new, that she had a perfectly fine apartment that she didn’t want to break her lease on.  The other part of her at the forefront of her mind was quietly encouraging her to take that leap of faith, that Tina had always loved her place, and that Tina’s lease on her own apartment was going to be up for renewal soon.

“That, dear heart,” he bent his head to give her a lingering, smiling kiss.  “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Wait!  I need to test one more thing.”  Before Nate could question, Rowena moved in his arms and began to sway.  “Just pretend it’s three in the morning.”

“Slow dancing in the small hours of the night in your own kitchen is a fantasy of yours?”  He rested his hand at the small of her back as he led them through some simple steps, the two of them barely moving.  “How am I doing? Passing your test?”

“With flying colors.”

“What did Morgan have to say?”

She snuggled closer, the two of them swaying more than actually dancing now.  “She didn’t quite say so, but the idea of having a place of our own outside the Warehouse has its appeal.  Even if we’re just here a few nights out of the week, the monthly payments are cheaper than what I was paying on my apartment.”

He laughed.  “You’ve been thinking about this for a while?”

She ducked her head, but he could still see the faintest hint of a blush across her cheeks.  “Would it be weird if I said that this house has been calling to me ever since I was a little girl?  I used to walk this street on the way to and from school and I always stopped in front of this house, wondering what it would be like to live here, what it would be like to run upstairs and downstairs.  Did it have an attic? A cellar?  Were the people inside happy?  When I was on regular patrol, I drove by here and couldn’t stop looking at the place.  If felt like it was waiting for me.”

Nate thoughtfully stroked his chin as he looked around.  “I couldn’t sense any sort of magic around this house, but it might not hurt to have some of the agents who specialize in that sort of thing make a sweep to inspect.”  He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.  “Or, it could be that some places are simply meant for people and this one was meant for you.”

She ran her hand over the front of his sweater, stopping over his heart.  “For us.”

He nodded.  “Yes.  For us.”  Taking her hand, he spun her around and joined in her delighted laughter.  “Shall we speak with the agent to draw up the paperwork then?  See what the timeline is for making this our home?”

“Yes.  Let’s.”

[prinzeburden22]

Week 2: Volleyball Match Analysis (SEA GAMES 2019: PHL VS VIE Volleyball Women’s Opener)

by: Prinze Burden

Court Dimensions:

The match was held at PhilSports Arena in Pasig, Philippines it follows the volleyball standard court dimension which is: dimensions of the court are 29'6" feet by 59' feet and are measured from the outer edge of the boundary lines. A center line dividing the lines is required directly under the volleyball net. Two attack lines whose rear edge is drawn 9'10" back from the axis of the center line marks the front zone. (It is quite common for volleyball players to round this measurement up to 30' x 60' but the true court dimension is 29'6" x 59').

Equipment:

Philippines Equipment

Uniform/Jersey: The Philippine team wore full blue jersey uniform with white text lines. Their Libero wore a white torso with blue text lines and black volleyball shorts.

Socks: They wore white socks.

Court Shoes: Every member wore the same light blue court shoes.

Knee Pads: They wore black knee pads.

Ankle Braces: They wore black ankle braces as well.

 Vietnam Equipment:

Uniform/Jersey: The Vietnamese team wore a red torso with white text line uniform with black volleyball shorts, their libero wore a yellow torso with black text line accompanied with black volleyball shorts.

Socks: They all wore white socks.

Court Shoes: members wore various court shoes: black/red/white

Knee Pads: they wore black knee pads.

Ankle Braces: they wore black ankle braces.

 General Equipment:

Volleyball Ball: in the match, a yellow ball with blue line design was utilized.

Volleyball Net: The net used had white and blue gradient pillars, with white borders and black nets.

Basic Skills

 Philippines:

Passing- Team Philippines was very consistent in terms of passing, they have very good team coordination which made every pass go very smoothly from one player to another, their good passing gave them many opportunities to strike a spike and secure points.

Setting- team Philippines is also well-versed in setting; their spikers successfully gave their team some points because of the efficient sets of the setter.

Spiking- team Philippines had very good spikers on their team, they were able to score many points and had a lot of chances to win, however in my own opinion, team Vietnam had better spikes than team Philippines which made Team Vietnam secure the victory.

Blocking- in team Philippines, they are very capable in doing some blocks, but there were some occurrences in which the spikes of team Vietnam penetrated the defense and blocking of team Philippines.

Digging- their team had smaller digs than team Vietnam, this is a factor affecting the overall gameplay because Vietnam had many successful digs which prevented them from losing, team Philippines was very efficient in digging but lacks more on this factor also.

Serving- in my own opinion Philippines had better serving than team Vietnam, because their team had very consistent and effective serves in which sometimes the opposing team was unable to receive or defend against team Philippines’ serves.

 Vietnam:

Passing- Team Vietnam was also very good at passing because they can easily transfer the ball from one player to another which amplified the coordination and scoring of Team Vietnam, allowing them to take victory.

Setting- the team is very efficient in setting, but in my own opinion, team Philippines had better set than team Vietnam based from my observations.

Spiking- Team Vietnam had more powerful spikes compared to the other team, this is the main factor in which paved the way to their victory, their players were very aggressive spikers and they can make successful spikes in difficult angles.

Blocking- their blocking is also good, but there are times in which the spikes of the other team were very powerful, allowing team Vietnam’s blocks to be ineffective sometimes.

 Digging- The libero of Team Vietnam was very amazing in terms of digging; she defended the team many times which allowed them for more opportunities to score and win in the match.

Serving- Team Vietnam had poorer serves than team Philippines, because some of their serves were too strong and were out of bounds.

 Technical and Tactical Skills of Both Teams:

Offense Tactics- both teams had very good offense, which made them play toe-to-toe, but in the end, Vietnam’s offense tactics were more superior than that of the Philippines which gave them victory.

Defense Tactics- both teams also have solid defense, but Vietnam had better block and digs which made them have more solid defense against the powerful spike of team Philippines.\

Communication- all teams had very good team communication and communication with their respective coaches, it allowed them to play out their strategies and tactics effectively.

Volleyball Rules:

 Their match followed the standard volleyball rules which are:

· 6 players on the floor at any one time - 3 in the front row and 3 in the back row

· Maximum of 3 hits per side

· Points are made on every serve for winning team of rally (rally-point scoring).

· Player may not hit the ball twice in succession. (A block is not considered a hit.)

· Ball may be played off the net during a volley and on a serve.

· A ball hitting a boundary line is in.

· A ball is out if it hits an antenna, the floor completely outside the court, any of the net or cables outside the antennae, the referee stand or pole, the ceiling above a non-playable area.

· It is legal to contact the ball with any part of a player’s body.

· It is illegal to catch, hold or throw the ball.

· A player cannot block or attack a serve from on or inside the 10-foot line.

· After the serve, front-line players may switch positions at the net.

· Matches are made up of sets; the number depends on level of play. 3-set matches are 2 sets to 25 points and a third set to 15. Each set must be won by two points. The winner is the first team to win 2 sets. 5-set matches are 4 sets to 25 points and fifth set to 15. The team must win by 2 unless tournament rules dictate otherwise. The winner is the first team to win three sets.

Officiating the Match:

Line officials- in the match, the line officials were very active in the entire match, there were no complications regarding their role and they were very consistent in identifying who or which team scored in the rounds. They were also effective in signaling because they react fast and swiftly signals if any of the teams scored and etc.

Scorekeeper- there were no problems regarding the scorekeepers, the scores they set were fair and accurate based from the gameplay of the teams, there was no bias in the scoring within the match meaning they have done their job well. They also kept track of the servers and if there were certain faults within their serving. Additionally, they have records of the teams, team players, and their statistics.

Assistant Scorekeeper- the assistant scorekeeper also did their job well because they kept track of the liberos of both teams and also, they helped in regulating the score within the match.

Referees- In the match, they had international referees: Leung Yin Yan and Agung Porwantoro, they did their job efficiently because they made sure that the match would go smoothly and orderly throughout.

Team Coaches: the coaches were good in doing their job, they made tactics for their respective teams in which gave different opportunities for each team to synergize and play with unity, Vietnam couldn’t have won without the integrated teachings of their coach and the Philippines’ coach was also very supportive of the team.