#or try to anyway my brain is cow farts

[whatmack]

I just read your kandrew/kandriel and I just need Andrew realizing that he can finally have Kevin bc Neil is there to give and receive touches and to uphold and remind about boundaries. But Kevin's dumb so Andrew has to literally yell at him while Neil is the back cackling

“You’re serious.”“Yeah?”Andrew looked up at Kevin. He looked down at the couch. He looked at Neil on the corner of the couch. He looked away from Neil on the corner of the couch (Neil had a hand over his mouth and his eyes sparkling and how was Andrew supposed to breathe with him looking like that) and back up at Kevin.“Right now,” Andrew said flatly. “Seriously right now.”Kevin rocked to the side, wincing after the familiar fashion of a person recirculating blood in numb limbs. It made him lean heavily on Andrew’s left thigh, something that would have been impossible for Andrew to bear a few months ago but with Neil here was–Okay.More than okay. That was difficult to think about.There was a lot of Kevin. But Neil helped him remember (had taught him) what it looked like when someone was giving themselves over to you, and Kevin was not a threat. Not like this.Not in Andrew’s lap, his waist held tightly between the span of Andrew’s hands.

“Let’s run down the possible reasons why I would have allowed this,” Andrew said, ignoring Kevin’s attempt to interrupt–so what if he’d pulled Kevin down, so what if it had been all his own idea (so what if that meant everything). “Wow, so many. I can see why you’re having such a difficult time coming to a conclusion.”“I don’t know! I’ve given up trying to guess what you’re thinking,” Kevin snapped, knees making the couch creak alarmingly. It was such a Kevin way to act, angry and petulant and self-centered, that Andrew’s heart surged against his ribs. He shoved Kevin off and stood, patting his pockets for a cigarette to regain himself. Coming up empty, he turned around to see Neil spinning the pack on a fingertip. Bastard; to get them, Andrew would have to return to the couch. He gave Neil a glare that promised deep, extended suffering. Neil had the audacity to tap the cigarettes against his temple.“You,” he said, not knowing which one he meant, and stopped. He couldn’t say it like this; he needed to hide behind fanciful eloquence, and as much as he hated himself for it the confectionery sugar-dusted words fit well in his mouth, slotting in and dripping out again syrup and bourbon cherry. He itched all over with the need for a smoke.“There was a man once. Are you listening?” He clenched his fists to keep from dragging his hands through his hair, from stepping forward and digging them into Kevin’s. “The man is not the important part of the story. Everyone thinks about the subject. No one ever considers the timing. There was a man once.” He took three deliberate steps forward, forcing himself, and won the rush of Kevin’s head tipping back to keep their eyes together. He’d had a haircut, today. Andrew could smell the hairspray on his neck.“Andrew,” Kevin said, and Andrew shook his head and leaned down, clamping his hand over Kevin’s mouth. Kevin’s breath was humid, his lips plush and distracting. At least he went silent. Neil dropped the cigarettes.“You are not the same person as you were last year. You will not be the same person next year. You will not be the same in the next week, or day, or hour. We are all motes of dust from a million years away.”Kevin’s nostrils flared. He had a cornered look in his eyes, a touch of the animal; but it wasn’t panicked. No, Andrew realized; Kevin liked this. Liked having Andrew stand over him. Andrew dug his nails into Kevin’s jaw and felt Kevin gasp against his palm.His heart would beat out of his chest and flop to the floor, pulsing, naked without the flesh surrounding it. They both would see.“Who are you, Kevin Day? Right now, in this moment. I do not care about anything else.”Kevin’s voice came out garbled.  Andrew had to draw his hand away for him to speak, and flexed his fingers to release some of the cramping. Andrew could feel Neil watching him. Watching– them. He wanted, desperately, to look. He did not allow himself.The tip of Kevin’s tongue as he wet his lips threatened to smash through Andrew’s foundations. “I can’t do this if you’re going to take it away.”“Then you can’t do this,” Neil said. Andrew suppressed an instinctive attack, the hair bristling up his arms and nape; he had not expected Neil to speak, though in retrospect he should have. Neil was always speaking. Neil continued, “It’s a gift. All of it. All of– of this (there is no this there is no this). You’re not entitled to anything”“I know,” Kevin said. It was nearly a whine. Not nearly; it was. “I just– I’m not– I’m not assuming. I can’t.” His voice cracked, and Andrew understood. Neil didn’t. “If you think for a moment that you get to lay your whole sob story at Andrew’s feet now of all times then you can move in with Matt.”His mouth always had moved faster than his sense. Andrew held up a hand to stop him, and astoundingly Neil did, though he kept muttering under his breath. Andrew folded his arms in front of his chest and watched Kevin squirm.He knew Kevin, as he knew Neil, better than either one of them thought he did. He’d known them from the beginning. Rarely did it matter that he’d known Kevin longer, but Neil overshooting the mark had made this one of those rare. (The timing…)“I made you a deal,” he said to Kevin. “I do not go back on my word.”

(I’m not going to leave you alone.)“Okay,” said Kevin. Too loud, too rough, too free with the emotion in it. He did not move an inch as Andrew cupped his cheek in his hand and kissed him.

[swiss-cheeze]

Tick-Tock, Hook’s Afraid of an Ordinary Clock! || Spencer Reid

Requested: YES/NO: gender neutral please! So my request. Y/n has been working at the BAU for a while, and never ever had feelings for Spencer but more for Derek. One night is spent at a hotel and Spencer gets wasted as all hell which the team found unusual. That’s really all! Do with that what you will! Smut is fine too! You can add your own personal touches if you wish. Also would love some fighting between Spencer and y/n

Gender: none, they/them.

Warnings: insults, alcohol, normal CM case talk, verbal fight dialogue taken from Hook (1991), crap music talk.

----

“Eat your heart out, you crinkled, wrinkled fat bag,” you mumbled under your breath as Spencer finished his rambling of some unknown subject. Spencer stiffened at your insult, as did the rest of the team. You had just gotten back from a pretty bad case involving a team of family annihilators and where sitting in the nearest bar; throughout the whole case Spencer had almost made it his mission to speak over you, correct you, flick things at you, ‘forget’ you’re there, bump into you and more. God it was so annoying, and now? Now you've had enough.

“That was very ill-mannered-” Spencer started.

“And you're a slug-eating worm,” you said with a little more force matter-of-factly, cutting off whatever it was Spencer was going to say.

“You can do better than that pretty boy!” Derek said quickly with a grin as he nudged Spencer; you almost pounced on that man for taking Spencer's side rather than yours; Derek had always taken your side.

“You're encouraging this?” Spencer questioned quickly.

“Show me your fastball, dust brain!” you started again, “you paunchy, sag-bottomed puke pot!” Spencer's eyes widened three times the size they normally would be as the rest of your table sat quiet and watched.

“Damn!” Emily said under her breath with a grin as her eyes darted between the two of you; it was like watching tennis.

“You're a very poor role model for your team, you know that right?” Spencer shook his as he took a mouthful of his drink before a sly grin overtook his face, “I bet you don't even have a fourth-grade reading level,” a few of your teammates let out a little blow of air.

“Hemorrhoidal sucknavel” you said quickly.

“Maybe a fifth-grade reading level.” Spencer said even quicker.

“Oil-dripping, beef-fart-sniffing bubble butt” you started to really get into it, leaning over the table a little with a smirk.

“Aye there we go (Y/n)!” Derek said quickly, now he was on your side? You looked to Hotch who was smiling thinking that maybe you had another on your side.

“Someone has a severe caca mouth, you know that?” Spencer cut off your gaze with his words, as if he was bored.

“You’re a fart factory. A slug-slime sack of rat guts and cat vomit, a cheesy scab picked pimple-squeezing finger bandage!” snickering came over the table; but you weren't done yet oh no, “a week-old maggot burger with everything on it and flies on the side!” you grinned; many many words in that one insult. Spencer went to open his mouth but you cut him off, “you’re really just a substitute chemistry teacher” you winked.

“Come on Spence, hit (Y/n) back!” J.J. quickly intervened.

“Mung tongue” Spencer fired.

“Math tutor,”

“Pinhead,”

“Mother lover,” that one was a low blow on your end but you couldn't help yourself.

“Nearsighted gynecologist,” ouch Spence, Hotch snorted at that one.

“In your face, camelcake!” you shot back.

“In your rear, cow derrière!” of course Spencer came back even faster.

“Lying, crying, spying, prying ultra-pig!” Emily snickered at yours.

“Lewd, crude bag of pre-chewed food!” Derek snickered at Spencers.

“Guys maybe settle down…” Hotch said softly, this was starting to get a little out of hand.

“You man! Stupid, stupid man!” That was all you could give back as your mind turned blank, forgetting every word in the dictionary.

“If I'm a maggot burger, why don't you just eat me?” Spencer shot back, “you zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farming, paramecium brain, munching on your own mucus, suffering from Spencer Reid envy!” laughter ensued as your face contorted to confusion.

“What the hell is a ‘paramecium’?” your voice held the question as Spencer pointed to you.

“I'll tell you what a paramecium is! You’re a paramecium!” everyone on your table stared at Spencer as he elaborated; “It's a one-celled critter with no brain that can't think!” and with that, your table cheered for Spencer as you sat sulking.

“Oh come on (Y/n), you should have known you would lose,” Derek said with a grin before following Spencer to the bar.

“He's drinking a lot tonight isn't he?” Emily questioned.

“Who, Derek?” J.J. guessed with a furrowed brow.

“No! Spencer!” Emily quickly concluded.

“He was a little harsh on (Y/n)” Hotch cut in quickly, “I’m just glad Dave and Garcia weren’t here to witness that,” you slammed your drink on the table and sent a glare to the three left at the table.

“I'm going home, i'll see everyone on monday,” you grumbled out before stalking off, your shoes made loud thunking sounds as they hit the wood flooring, your anger getting the best of you as you passed Spencer and Derek.

“Yo (Y/n) you getting a drink too?” Derek was about to order your normal drink until you slapped both Spencer and Derek on the back of the head.

“OW! What the hell-!” Spencer's back was to you but as he turned and saw you his anger melted into elation, “come back for round 2 (Y/n)?” Spencer questioned, the poor boy tried to act cool and lean against the bar but missed entirely and almost fell onto a rather burly looking gentleman. You huffed slightly as you turned to Derek.

“Make sure the substitute chem teacher gets home safe,” and with that you threw open the bar doors and walked your way home, it was only a block and you had gotten a ride with Emily anyway.

-

When you finally slumped home, chucked off your shoes and threw yourself onto your mattress you couldn't help but make yourself angrier with the new insults suddenly bubbling in your head.

“Who does that piss brain even think he is,” you mumbled into the air, “paramecium my ass…” you continued your grumbling into the atmosphere as you twisted and turned on the mattress before sleep finally engulfed you.

------

The work week started up again and before you knew it yourself and the team where needed in New Orleans because of a new range of sudden murders.

“Lets review please,” Hotch mumbled.

“The bodies cross gender and racial lines” Rossi started.

“The throat is slit with something very sharp but also clean, I get a funny feeling it isnt a kitchen knife though,” you mumbled as you looked at the photos closer trying to get a good angle on a printed piece of paper.

“Butcher?” Derek questioned, you shrugged.

“Could these be blitz attacks?” you heard Spencer scoff at your suggestion.

“If this was a blitz attack there would be remorse and blunt force trauma somewhere on the head,” Spencer said looking directly at you.

“Oh, i'm so sorry Doctor i didn't know my input was unwanted, let me just keep my thoughts to myself,”

“Guys,” J.J. sighed, “Garcia is going through the victims lives that we have already, I can talk to the family and see if there are any enemies?” Hotch nodded.

“Derek, I want you to join J.J. with the families. Rossi, Emily go to the M.E. together and have a look over the bodies and tox screens. (L/n), Reid and I will go to the police station and start on a geographical and victim board,” everyone nodded in agreement to what Hotch said. Except for Spencer. He just stared at you with dangerous eyes. You rolled yours in return before putting your headphones into your phone and playing music to drown out Spencer's overbearingly loud thoughts.

-

“Okay my lovelies, these first three victims all had the same job at the same court; they’re all a part of a Jury audience” Garcia explained as her fingers tapped on her keyboard through the phone.

“Maybe someone just got out of prison that was wrongly convicted and wanting revenge?” you questioned.

“Maybe, it would have to be something pretty big for them to come back,” Derek said, you nodded in agreement, “baby girl can you see if there are any people that may have been convicted by a jury with our victims in it?”

“Sure can sugar, PG out” the phone clicked off.

“Did you find anything from the M.E.?” Hotch turned to Rossi and Emily as he spoke.

“The pathologist said it was a clean cut without hesitation marks or remorse,” Rossi said.

“No drugs, no blunt force trauma,” Emily shrugged as she talked, “it wasn't a blitz.”

“Maybe planned?” you butted in.

“That’s what it seems like,” Hotch said, “Reid? Have you got anything? J.J.?” Hotch questioned as he looked to the respective people.

“The victims were killed in different areas but its places they frequented; house, bar, bar” Spencer started, “they’re all over the place is all, completely different areas,”

“Yeah, and the families weren’t much help either. One of the victims' families, uh, Emil Gosten? His family said they didn't want anything to do with the investigation because he's had previous death threats and calls and stuff,” J.J. shrugged as the room went quiet.

“Reid, (L/n) I know you two dont like each other but I need two of my sharpest minds to go back to the crime scenes,” Hotch sighed, you groaned but complied as you stalked off with Reid following shortly behind.

-

“Everything looks the exact same as it was left,” you sighed out as you placed a blanket back down on the couch. Spencer scanned the books on the shelf before pulling one out and starting to read it; completely ignoring you.

“Reid,” nothing.

“Reid.” again, nothing.

“Spencer,” nope.

“SPENCE”

“What!” he finally turned to you and answered.

“You couldn't give me some complacency and at least answer me when i talk to you?” you asked annoyed.

“Why would i?” Spencer asked with a bored tone as he placed the book back on the shelf, except he finally talked to you, “The victim is atheist, believes in the justice system…” he sighed and shrugged, “did Hotch just put us together to fuck with us?”

“Maybe,” you flopped onto the couch with a sigh as you rest your head on the backrest. That was until something caught your eye, “Oi genius!” you called out, Spencer came to your side as you pointed to the roof; there, above your heads was a piece of paper taped to the ceiling, “you’re taller than me,” you said quickly as you got up and started moving the couch.

“Woah what- what’re you doing?” Spencer jumped back slightly as you pushed the couch backwards.

“Well we’re going to push this back and then put a chair down for you to stand on so you can reach that note because it can possibly help us get to the unsub,”

“What why me?” Spencer questioned as he helped you push the couch back.

“You’re taller than me and have longer arms,” you walked over to the dining table and came back with a chair, Spencer was reluctant at first but eventually stood on the chair and plucked down the taped note; letting out a breath as he finally stood on the ground again. You plucked the note from Spencer's hand and opened it.

“A music note?” Spencer mumbled.

“Something like that,” you mumbled back, “see it's in the second to bottom gap,” you pointed to the gap to show where it was, as if Spencer couldn't see it already, “um, it would sound something like...um, dmm” you vibrate your voice a little to help Spencer understand, he nodded, “the only problem is there isn’t any clef; normally with music you have a treble clef, alto clef or bass clef. They basically determine what instrument can be played and how the notes are determined” Spencer looked genuinely interested while you explained your thinking, “this...its a singular note, maybe there’s more around?” you looked around the room and tried to desifre if there were any opened drawers or cupboards.

“Maybe there’s another one at the other location?” Spencer questioned, you grinned.

“It might be the unsubs calling card; ‘hey, this is my kill’ type thing!” and with that, you made a break in the case.

-

Spencer called the rest of the team about the break as Hotch allowed the two of you to go to the other victims houses and search for more music notes; low and behold you now had 3 music notes placed under the corresponding victim heads.

“You keep staring at that board as if it's going to give you answers,” Derek said with a grin as he walked into the room; the rest of the team had been called out to another dead body.

“Hmm? Oh I just…” you shrugged, “i just get this feeling about the notes; they have to sound something but we just don't know what yet” before Derek could answer you the shrill of the phone went off.

“(Y/n)?” it was Spencer on loudspeaker; he never called you by your first name.

“Yeah what's up Reid?” you called back.

“We found another note; the round part is under the last line with the stem going up to the second line at the top,” you nodded in response (not that Spencer could see you) as you drew the note on a piece of paper with a sharpener and placed it on the victim board.

“Anything else? A clef at all anywhere?” you asked.

“Um i'm not- i don't think so?” it sounded like Spencer was shuffling around a few things to get a better look, “we have another piece of paper!” Spencer called out, moments later you got a photo on your phone. Sure enough there was a treble clef.

“Spence get everyone back here; i know what the notes mean”

-

“Our unsub is using something called the Dies Irae,” you played the first few notes on your phone over youtube, “you've all heard this song over time just not exactly in an orchestra setting; Star Wars, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Corpse Bride, Sweeney Todd, The Shining, The Exorcist and many many more,” you played a few other videos of the notes from a few of the movies as everyone nodded.

“I can hear it,” J.J. mumbled.

“Same,” that was Emily.

“Right, so...it was originally used with catholic’s; they used the music in their Requiem services-”

“Requiem services are basically putting the dead to rest,” Spencer cut in quickly so the team could understand.

“Yeah, it's basically a song for the dead to stay dead in a way? I think our unsub is using the Sweeney Todd method; killing his victims with a razor. One slice across the neck while in a private area except this dude isn't a cannibal” you grinned at the remembrance of the film.

“Cannibal?” Derek and Emily questioned.

“In the movie Sweeney Todd is a barber, he comes back for revenge on the man who stole his wife and child and kills people in his barber shop which is also above a pie shop owned by a woman named Mrs Lovett; when Sweeney starts killing they come together in order to bring customers back to Mrs Lovett's pie shop. Because it's set in 1785 meat was expensive so instead they used the dead people as meat to sell to customers” you realised how long winded that explanation was and apologized, “sorry that was..i think our unsub is a barber” was your final statement. Hotch nodded and moved to press a button on the phone in the middle of the table, but the phone started ringing instead.

“Garcia?”

“I think i found our unsub; Chris Gevette, he filed for divorce after he gave evidence of spousal abuse but it seems like his wife had every piece of evidence that would be able to put him in jail rather than her so everything was blamed on him for the abuse and the jury ruled him unable to keep any stable relationship”

“Garcia do you have a work and home address?”

“Sent to your phones now; barber shop and home” the phone clicked off.

“(Y/n) i want you to go to the barber shop with Reid and Derek. Emily, J.J. and I will go to the house; Rossi stays here in case anything else happens.” and with that you all ran to the SUV’s.

-----

“CHRIS GEVETTE FBI!” Derek shouted through the door, your guns were drawn and ready for action as Derek kicked the door in. You moved swiftly through the shop, finding nothing but dust.

“Guys!” you were now out the back as your partners came running, “it's exactly like Sweeney Todd,” you motioned to the stairs in front of you before looking behind you, “there's stars that lead down as well; there may be bodies in there like the movie too, you go down there and i'll go up.”

“(Y/n) let me come with you,” that was Spencer, he looked genuinely concerned.

“I've got this Spence. Go” you started your ascent up the wooden stairs while trying to stay as quiet as you possibly could, “CHRIS GEVETTE,” you called out to the door once you got to it, you could hear the bustle of footsteps and made the split decision. The door was kicked in by you as you pointed your gun to Chris who was now holding a razor to a woman's neck.

“Get away!” Chris screamed, he was frantic; trembling and crying.

“Chris! Chris it's okay, i'm a good guy, okay?” you slowly let go of your gun, “im holstering my gun, okay?” you said as you're-holstered your gun, “Chris i know about the divorce-”

“No you dont!” Chris called, the woman under the razor trembled as the razor cut into her neck slightly.

“I do! Chris, I know you were abused! I know it wasn't you that did the abusing! If you let her go we can help you get custody and instead send that bitch to jail,” Chris looked almost relieved to hear that, he contemplated that for a moment before slowly letting the woman go. She ran over to you as Derek and Spencer finally came up the stairs and started handcuffing Chris.

“We’ve got two other bodies in the basement,” Spencer said to you while you held the trembling woman, “there's medic on the way now,” you nodded in affirmation before starting to help the women calm down and walk down the stairs.

------

The jet finally landed back at the bureau as the rest of your team started packing their things from their desks.

“Um (Y/n)” a voice called, you smiled as you looked up to see the person you least expected.

“Spence?” you questioned; your eyes darted around and couldn't see any other team member in sight, “everyone left already. Sorry. I've been in my own little world,” you gave a tight smile as you continued packing some extra files into your bag.

“It-it’s just me, but um, I just wanted to congratulate you on your break in the case,” the comment from Spencer's timid and small voice caught you off guard so much that you froze for a moment as you stared at him. It all seemed to go quiet, and slow; the clock on the wall seemed to tick at an atrociously slow pace.

Tick…

“(Y/n)?”

Tock…

“Hmm?”

“I uh, i was-”

“Oh, yeah um-”

Pause.

Quiet.

“Thank you,” smile.

Tick…

“I was...was wondering, (Y/n)...”

Tock…

“Yeah Spence?”

“Would you...would you like to go...on a date...with...me?”

Pause.

Quiet.

“With you?”

“Well, I did...I did say ‘me’ I hope- just, just forget it” and the world went back to normal as Spence started walking away.

“No Spence, wait!” you grabbed your things and quickly darted off after him; plunging your arm between the elevator doors and stepping in quickly before they shut behind you.

“Just forget it (Y/n); forget i ever asked and we can just go back to-”

“I would love to go on a date with you”

Tick…

“Really?”

“So long as you don't call me a paramecium again”

Tock…

“I won't; as long as you don't call me a substitute chemistry teacher”

Pause.

Quiet.

“I won't”

“Then it's settled.

Tick…

“Message me?”

“Of course”

Tock…

Smile.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Platinum Cherry Blossom - Kujo Jotaro (2/2)

MULAN x STARDUST CRUSADERS & VENTO AUREO (just a tiny bit)

Cast:

Fa Mulan - Reader Li Shang - Kujo Jotaro Fa Li (Mulan’s mother) - Bruno Buccellati (You had it coming...) Fa Zhou (Mulan’s father) - Leone Abbacchio (Godamn it, me...) Little Brother (Mulan’s dog) - Ghirga Narancia (Wtf am I doing?) Grandmother Fa - Guido Mista (By this point, you can go ahead and throw me out of the window) The Matchmaker - Trish Una (Sorry, girl, I never liked you) Chi Fu (Annoying Advisor) - Enyaba The Emperor - Joseph Joestar General Li - Sadao (Jotaro’s dad that’s not busy playing the sax anymore) Shan Yu - Dio Brando Yao - Jean - Pierre Polnareff Ling - Kakyoin Noriaki Chien-Po - Avdol Muhammad  Mushu - Iggy Cricket - Sex Pistols (Mainly #5)

This is so much fun omfg, hope you’re enjoying the ride as much as I am!!!

CLICK HERE FOR:

PART 1 

---

After such an exhausting day, she just wanted to take a well deserved bath to scrub off the dirt and sweat, while Iggy kept looking left and right, worrying that someone might see her.

She obviously didn’t want to stink like some corn chip man, so she jumped into the water, letting the cool feeling sooth her sore muscles, telling Iggy to stand watch if he’s so worried, as he wouldn’t stop pestering her.

“Yeah, yeah. Stand watch, Iggy, while I blow our secret with my stupid girly habits! Pffft! Hygiene!” Iggy farted next to #5 shamelessly.

However, just as he said that, some cheers could be heard from the distance, and a pair of heart patterned briefs were thrown at Iggy’s head, only to notice the 3 idiots throwing themselves in the water.

As Avdol jumped, he made a canon-ball, making it look like a tsunami took place in the lake, as the girl looked at them horrified, using a lily pad to hide her face while silently swimming behind a rock.

“Oh, hey, it’s Fugo!” Polanreff pointed out, making the girl grin awkwardly, taking the lily pad away from her face. “Oh, uh, hi, guys! I didn’t know you were here!” she tried to do a masculine voice. “I was just washing. So now I’m clean, and I’m gonna go. Bye-bye!” she chirped, trying to hide even more behind the rock. “Aww, come on, don’t leave! I know we were jerks to you before, so let’s start over. Hi, I’m Kakyoin.” he shook the girl’s hand, dragging her forwards. “And I’m Avdol.” she heard the other man say as she unconsciously hit her hand on his chest as she tried to take it away from Kakyoin’s grasp. “Hello, Avdol.” she said softly, before covering her face, realising that Polnareff was butt naked on top of a rock. “And I am Polnareff, King of the Rock! And there’s nothin’ you girls cand do about it!” he put his fists on his hips, rocking proudly. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think Fugo and I can take you.” Kakyoin did some silly karate moves. “I really don’t wanna take him anywhere.” she declared, swimming away to the shore while covering her chest. “But Fugo! He challenged us, we have to fight!” Kakyoing gaped at her. “No, we don’t really have to. We could just...Close our eyes and swim around.” she tried to swim closer to the shore, only to have Kakyoin follow. “Awww, come on, don’t be such a gir-...OUCH! Something bit me!” he shrieked as Iggy bit his butt. “Eww, what a nasty flavour...” Iggy spit in disgust. “AHH! WATER MONSTER!!” he gasped, swimming the hell away from there.

She then took advantage of the commotion to whistle for her horse to come and help cover her up as she left to the shore.

“Boy, that was close...” she sighed, putting her towel closer to her. “No, that was vile!” Iggy brushed his teeth with a lot of mint tooth paste, only to start chewing on coffee gums. “You owe me big!”

“I NEVER want to see a naked man again.” she declared as she started squeezing her hair of water, her horse rolling his eyes, agreeing with her.

Only as if on cue, however, the rest of the soldiers started running and cheering naked past her, making her stare in shock and horror at the display, while her horse and Mushu were already dead inside.

“’Ey, don’t look at me, I ain’t bitin’ no more butts.” Iggy groaned, getting away from there.

As they walked back to her tent, they noticed Jotaro and Enyaba arguing, the hag throwing crude, poisonous words at the young captain, completely undeserving, and as soon as he left his tent, trying to cool off his head before Ora Ora-ing the advisor with Star Platinum, she tried to smile at him.

“Heey, I’ll hold her and you punch!...Or not.” she tried to cheer him up, but he only gave her a glance before walking away. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great Captain!” she spoke louder, hoping it would help in any way.

For a split second, he stopped and spared her one more glance, before going on his way, making the girl smile softly.

“Heey, I saw that!” Iggy looked at her with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Huh? Saw what?” she blinked, looking at him with confusion. “You like him, don’t you?” he asked, with a weird smirk. “No, I -” she tried to deny everything, but she was quickly cut off anyway. “Go to your tent!” Iggy scolded, but she could only smile back at where Captain Kujo stood before going to sleep.

Without her knowledge, Iggy and #5 made the masterplan of writing a scroll from the General, informing Enyaba that he needs Jotaro’s troops, and then went to make a dummy out of spare armor and cloth, found a random panda bear and went to deliver the scroll to Enyaba, who was out, taking a bath.

Of course, Iggy had to sass the annoying hag, speaking to her aggressively, while the panda went up into the tree, seemingly “vanishing” altogether.

And so, Enyaba rushed to Jotaro, telling him that they are needed in the front, and the next day they packed everything and made their way to the fight.

“For a long time we've been Marching off to battle” everyone started singing, trying to get their mind off the long road.

“In our thundering herd We feel a lot like cattle” Polnareff sighed, hearing the cows moo in the distance.

“Like the pounding beat Our aching feet aren't Easy to ignore” the rest continued their chant.

“Hey, think of instead A girl worth fighting for” Kakyoin smiled, putting his arm around his 2 friends ”Huh?” Y/N looked at them weirdly. “That's what I said A girl worth fighting for I want her paler than the Moon with eyes that Shine like stars” Kakyoin sang, showing a scroll of a beautiful lady, imagining kissing her.

“My girl will marvel at My strength, adore my Battle scars” Polnareff flexed, imagining as he would boast to his beloved.

“I couldn't care less what she'll Wear or what she looks like It all depends on what She cooks like Beef, pork, chicken, mmm” Avdol wondered, smiling softly.

“Bet the local girls thought You were quite the charmer” Polnareff smirked at Y/N as they passed the river.

“And I'll bet the ladies love A man in armor” Kakyoin flex, his clothes filled with so much water, making him buff like Jotaro, only for him to deflate quickly.

“You can guess what we Have missed the most Since we went off to war” everyone sang happily, watching the women work in the rice fields.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked, hyping everyone up.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all chanted, as Y/N realised some girl were batting their eyes at her, making her blush and walk away.

“My girl will think I have no faults” Polnareff flexed once again.

“That I'm a major find” Avdol grinned as they all got closer to Y/N, waiting for her verse.

“How 'bout a girl who's got a brain Who always speaks her mind?” she tried, but they quickly stuck their tongues out.

“Neaaaaaah!” they laughed, continuing their own verses.

“My manly ways and turn of Phrase are sure to thrill her” Kakyoin fixed his hair with a charming smile.

“He thinks he's such a lady killer” Polnareff nudged the girl as he slapped the horse, making the poor red head fall face first into the mud.

“I've a man back home who's Unlike any other And that’s my son!” Enyaba boasted, thinking about her son.

“Yet the only boy who'd Love her is her son.” Polnareff mocked the hag, earning lots of chuckles.

“But when we come home In victory they'll line up At the door” they all chanted as the 3 started making very beautiful snow-women.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked once again, as everyone was grinning and cheering.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all sang simoultaneously  “Wish that I had” Kakyoin enticed everyone for the last time.

“A girl worth fighting for A girl worth fighting” everyone was cheerful, until they stopped in their tracks, realising that the whole village was burnt to the ground and everyone, including women and children, were dead.

Everyone was dead silent as they tried to search for survivors, but the only thing they found was a little puppet that belonged to a little girl, and General Kujo’s helmet, which only made them realise the massacre that took place, slaying his father.

Everyone gave Captain Kujo his space to mourn in silence, watching him use his father’s sword as a grave, putting his helmet on.

“I’m sorry...” the girl made her way to the Captain, resting her hand on his shoulder, offering her condoleances.

Composing himself, he gave her an appreciative nod before going to his horse, mounting and informing everyone that the Huns were moving quickly and that they were the Emperor’s only hope, so they had to go through the pass.

Before she left, she put the little doll to the General’s grave, offering a small prayer, then rushing to catch up with everyone, despite the exhausting snow.

On their way, as Y/N was guiding her horse along the way, a firework was sent through the carriage, and upon further inspection, Iggy had to blame #5 for his own mistake.

“What happened?!” Jotaro galloped to her, staring with a mix of emotions. “Uhmmm...” she was trying to explain how a dog lit a firework, but she had no time to answer. “You just gave away our position!” he yelled at her, and as if on cue, he got shot by an arrow that he was too slow to realise to stop with his Stand, and he fell off. “GET OUT OF RANGE!” he ordered everyone.

As they all tried to run away to cover, more and more fire-lit arrows were sent their way, one of them hitting the carriage, which made the poor horse jump around in fright, and it took 7 people to save the cannons and get the horse away from it, as Y/N jumped on it, riding away, only for the carriage to explode, making the horse and the girl fall over.

“Oh, sure, save the horse, not me. Thanks.” Iggy glared at her as he fell down.

She started running to where everyone else was, helping them fire the firework cannons until there were none left, as Polnareff shot it before Jotaro could stop him.

As the smoke cleared, an infinite army of huns were battle-roaring, and all Jotaro could tell his soldiers was to prepare to fight.

Yeah, as if that was going to lead in anything but defeat.

They watched in horror as the army started descending back at them, and as Jotaro was getting everyone ready to fight, Y/N noticed a snowy mountain peak she could use.

Without telling anyone, she started running closer to the middle of the battlefield to aim better, taking out her Stand and shooting a massive fireball at the peak, not caring about how much everyone was shouting.

Thankfully, she managed to hit it just as the blond enemy reached her, but unfortunately, he was quick enough to slice her torso. Jotaro was there too, but it was too late for any battle, as she grabbed his wrist and ran away from there, not wanting to get stuck in the avalanche, but even that, even with them riding on Y/N’s horse, it was no use, the snow was simply much faster than humanely possible.

She could hear Iggy yelling out her name as he snowboarded down the mountain on a shield, but as soon as she noticed a semi-conscious Jotaro was being taken away from her, almost falling down the cliff, she used her Stand to grab him by his armor, pulling him on the horse with her, and also, Iggy and #5 jumped on.

With the failed rope-arrow that was shot by Polnareff, she shot it back at them, thankfully him catching it, as she used her Stand to keep her horse and everyone safely. She could only watch in happiness as Polnareff and Avdol used their own Stands to get them back on the surface, as Kakyoin’s Stand’s tentacles secured them even better, helping to pull them up.

“I knew we could do it! You the man! Well...Sort of.” Iggy cheered in victory, praising the girl.

As they were pulled to safety, they left Jotaro and the girl some air by backing away.

“Yare Yare Daze...Fugo, you are the craziest man I’ve ever met.” Jotaro got into a sitting position, looking sternly at the panting girl. “And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my respect. It’s not often I see someone with a Stand, especially as powerful as yours, or that can be used to do such witty tricks.” Jotaro put his arm on Y/N’s shoulder, praising her gently. “Let’s hear it for Fugo! The bravest of us all!” Kakyoin cheered loudly. “You’re the King of the mountain!” Polnareff put his arms up in the air as everyone chanted and Jotaro helped her to her feet. “Fugo! What’s wrong?!” his eyes widened as the girl cried in pain, putting her hands over her stomach, falling back to the ground. “He’s wounded! Get help!” he ordered, seeing blood seeping through her clothes

He tried to call out her name more, but she fainted on the spot, not able to keep more of her strength.

They quickly put on the medical tent and had her inside, the doctor working on her, and just as she briefly regained consciousness, the physician went outside, whispering something to the captain, while the trio was waiting, almost as burnt, to see if their friend was okay or not.

Shocked at the news, Captain Kujo stormed inside the tent, seeing as she slowly and weakly fluttered her eyes open.

She looked at him with a soft smile as she mustered enough strength to raise, only for the blanket to fall off and reveal her bandaged chest.

Poor Y/N realised she was screwed in that instant.

“I can explain!” she tried to reason, but just then, Enyaba also burst into the tent. “So it’s true!” she screeched like a banshee. “Jotaro, wait, please-” she tried to call out and explain, only for the hag to drag her out of the tent. “I knew there was something wrong with you! A woman!” she took off Y/N’s hair from the bun, making everyone gasp as the hag threw her on the snow. “Treacherous snake!” she kept spewing venom at the girl. “My name is Y/N! I did it to save my father. I never had any ill-intentions, I promise!” she pleaded to Jotaro, but the hag kept shrieking. “HIGH TREASON!!!” she echoed through the mountain. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! I just didn’t want my injured father to have to die!” she begged for understanding. “ULTIMATE DISHONOUR!” she continued screaming around, annoying the brunet man. “It was the only way, please believe me! I couldn’t send my little brother, he’s barely 5 years old! And my father can’t even walk without a cane!” she almost started crying on the ground.

Jotaro looked at the girl on the ground, looking at him with pleading eyes as she kept the blanket around her, and he made a decision. He strutted to her horse, taking her sword and walked to her, while someone had to restrain her panicked horse and Enyaba had to scold her 3 friends that were freaking out and trying to plead for her life.

Seeing the look in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, she realised the had no life ahead of her, so she hung her head down, awaiting decapitation... Only to see her sword in front of her.

“Yare Yare...You put me in a horrible situation. A life for a life. My debt is repaid.” was the only thing Jotaro could say as he turned his back to her, unable to look at her pitiful form, commanding his troops to walk away, leaving her there, alone and wounded. “But captain-” Enyaba gaped at his decision, only for the man to take her by the neck of her robes, glaring at her harshly. “I said. Move. Out.” he growled, throwing her away harshly.

All the girl could do as she watched everyone turn her back to her, was to get dressed and spend the harsh night with her companions, as she was wallowing in self pity, hatred, disappointment and a gazillion of other emotions.

“I should have never left home...” she sighed, looking with dead eyes in front of her. “Hey, come on, don’t say that. You went to save your father’s life. Who knew you’d end up shamin’ him and disgracing your ancestors and losin’ all your friends? You know, you just gotta...You gotta learn to let these things go.” Iggy tried to explain, while also close to tears. “Fuck the ancestors and all that honour shit...Also...Maybe...Maybe I didn’t even go for my father. Maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe all I really wanted was to prove that I could do things right...So when I looked in the mirror, I’d see someone worthwhile....But I was wrong. I see nothing.” the girl shed a tear, throwing away her helmet and huddling closer to her blanket.

Poor Iggy tried to make her feel better by joking around, saying the helmet wasn’t clean and that’s why she didn’t see what she desired, but she couldn’t even look at him, because of the shame.

“Okay, maybe we’re both frauds. The ancestors didn’t send me, they don’t even like me.” Iggy sighed, looking annoyed at her. “That makes both of us.” she managed to whisper. “I mean, you risked your life to help people you love. I risked your life to help myself. At least you had good intentions.” Iggy tried to console her, earning a little smile. “Huh?! What do you mean you’re not lucky?! You LIED to me?!” Iggy gaped at #5 who was crying on the helmet. “And what are you, a sheep?!” he yelled at the horse in frustration. “I’ll have to face my father sooner or later...Let’s just go home.” she sighed, looking down. “Yeah...This ain’t gonna be pretty.” he agreed with a self-deprecating groan. “But don’t you worry, okay? Things will work out. We started this thing together, and that’s how we’ll finish it. I promise.” he hugged the girl with a wholesome grin. “Thank you, Iggy. I needed that.” she smiled, kissing the top of his head.

As Y/N was readying her horse to go home, she heard a loud roar, and upon further inspection, she saw the Hun leader, Dio Brando, was still alive, along with some of his trusted men, making their way to the Palace.

She quickly jumped on the horse, ready to alert everyone, before Iggy stopped her by clearing his throat.

“Home is THAT way.” he pointed with his paw in the opposite direction. “I have to do something!” she reasoned sternly. “Did you see those Huns?! They popped out of the snow! Like daisies!” Iggy yelled at her to get her shit together. “Are we in this together or not?” she asked for the last time. “Well, let’s go kick some Hunny buns!” he smirked, along with #5, as they both jumped on her horse and made their way to the palace.

At the Palace, there was a huge festival, to celebrate the Heroes of China who managed to defeat the Huns, Captain Jotaro being in front of everyone.

However, the girl galloping there earned quite a few gasps from her peers.

“Jotaro!” she called out, riding besides him. “Y/N?” his eyes widened at the sight of her. “The Huns are alive! They’re in the city!” she warned him quickly. “You don’t belong here, Y/N. Go home.” he grunted, riding further ahead. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to warn you! I saw them in the mountains, you have to believe me!” she, once again, tried to reason with him. “Why should I?” he glared at her, speaking in a low tone. “Why else would I come back?!” she asked, frowning at him as she blocked his horse with her own. “You said you’d respect and trust Fugo, so why is Y/N any different? You think she’d lie about something as grave as the Huns?!” but the man looked away from her, galloping further. “Keep your eyes open. I know they are here.” she warned her friends as she rode away from there, thinking up a plan to alert someone who would believe her.

In the middle of the plaza, where the Emperor’s stairs were, everyone was gathered, watching the fireworks and cheering.  She saw Jotaro and the others making their way in front of Emperor Joestar and as she tried to warn random citizens, she realised that, once again, her words had no meaning, as she was a mere woman.

Emperor Joseph waited until the drums fell silent, so he could speak for everyone present.

“My children, Heaven smiles down upon the Middle Kingdom! China will sleep safely tonight thanks to our brave warriors.” he spoke as everyone started cheering loudly. “Your Majesty, I present to you the sword of Dio Brando.” Jotaro bowed in front of the elderly man, showing him the sword of his enemy. “I know what this means to you, Captain Kujo. Your father would have been very proud.” however, just as he was going to get the sword, the nasty hawk, Pet Shop, snatched it away with a loud screech, making everyone gasp in shock.

Up, on the room, disguised as one of the dragons, the sword was given to Dio Brando. As if on cue, the huge red dragon was torn apart, many more huns getting out of there, fighting the soldiers, while 2 of them stole the Emperor away, and many others guarded the inside of the palace.

Only Dio’s taunting laugh could be heard everywhere.

Jotaro and his soldiers tried to use a stone statue as a ram and open the doors, but it was to no avail. As soon as she realised they were wasting time, she ran up to them, whistled for their attention, telling them that she has a much better idea and to follow her.

Of course, her 3 friends shrugged at each other, and with large smiles, they rushed after her, letting only Jotaro the Fool bother with the impossible stone statue.

She took away their armors and gave them women clothing, hairstyles and make ups, and so, they all used their sashes as whips, looking at each other confidently, mischievous glints in their eyes, ready to take action...

And hopefully keep the fruits replacing their boobs on their chest, unlike Kakyoin’s moving apple.

They used their sashes to climb up the pillar, just like they did before with the weights, grinning at each other, only for her to feel a tap on her shoulder as she was tying of her sash on the pillar -

It was Jotaro, looking at her with a confident smile, using his cape to replicate what she was doing, obviously proud with her witty plan.

The 4 of them looked with glee at their captain as they started climbing up the pillar with ease, ready to take down the huns and save the Emperor.

As they reached the top, they could see 2 huns looking alike guarding the balcony where the Emperor was held captive.

“Okay, here we are. Any questions?” she asked them in a quiet voice. “Does this dress make me look fat?” Polnareff asked, fixing his dress. “Yes.” Kakyoin chuckled, only to earn a slap.

And so, Y/N and the 3 ‘women’ started walking towards the huns, giggling and looking at each other.

“WHO’S THERE?!” one of the brothers asked loudly. “Concubines.” the other one replied with a disgusted look. “Ugly concubines.” he rolled his eyes, lowering his weapon. “Awww, he’s so cute!” the girls giggled behind the fan as they got in front of the brothers, and while they managed to charm one of them, Kakyoin’s half-eaten apple- boob fell from his robes, and for some reason, Pet Shop noticed Jotaro hiding and facepalming at the scene as well.

Thankfully enough, the stupid Hawk could do no further damage as Iggy started biting and munching on it, making it looked like a featherless chicken as it tried to fleed the scene in embarrassment.

The charmed older brother bent down to pick her apple, only for everyone to take out their boob-fruits. Avdol his his watermelons on their heads, making them hit each other, Kakyoin shoved the un-bitten apple in Sett’s mouth, hitting his legs, making him fall to his knees as he hit him with a well aimed head hit, while Polnareff was getting rid off Vanilla Ice and Y/N was fighting Anubis, using the bow to strangle him, yelling out for Jotaro to go ahead and rescue the Emperor, as he was the only one powerful enough to do so, nobody knowing Dio’s Stand powers.

---

Up there, Dio looked at the elder Emperor, hanging upside down, saying a mocking “Boo!” as he jumped down on the railing, looking down at him with a mocking grin as he ordered the 2 D’Arby brothers to guard the doors.

“Your walls and armies have fallen and now it’s your turn. Bow to me, Joseph Joestar!” Dio ordered loudly.  “Sorry, Dio, but I have some sad news for you. Your next line will be : I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!...Am I correct?” Joseph smirked, feeling proud for using his younger self’s gimmiks. “I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!....Huh?! What the-” Dio sneered in rage, realising that he fell into the old man’s trap and so, he put his sword to the Emperor’s chin, only for him not to flinch. “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. Or so my grandfather Jonathan, the previous Emperor, said.” he shrugged, feeling confident. “Then you will kneel in pieces!” he was ready to to stab the man, only to have Jotaro use Star Platinum to throw open the doors and punch the enemy away from the Emperor.

Taking out The World, Dio punched Jotaro out of the balcony, but he was quick to grab the pillar and rotated well enough to jump and punch him with his own fists, straddling him. In retaliation, Dio punched him back, getting on top, and so, they wrestled for dominance back and forth.

While Jotaro was trying to defeat the enemy, Y/N told Avdol to rescue the Emperor and get him to safety, while she tried to think of a way to aid her Captain.

She showed her friends the rope with paper lanterns, and apologising, Avdol used his Stand to pick up the Emperor and slid down the rope using his sash, while Dio roared in anger, giving Kakyoin and Polnareff enough time to slide down the rope as well.

“THE WORLD!” Dio yelled, and the next thing anyone knew was that Jotaro was on the ground, bleeding, and nobody had any idea how that happened. “Y/N, come on, hurry!” Polnareff kept yelling at her, but she couldn’t let the man she grew so fond of die by the hands of the enemy.

As she saw Dio approaching, she quickly picked up Dio’s discarded sword and cut the rope, giving Dio no chance to get closer to the Emperor. Everyone was cheering for that success, while Dio could only stare in shock and horror at the infinite crowd, not able to spot the Emperor no matter how hard he tried.

“You! You took away my victory!” Dio roared as he used the hilt of his sword to punch Jotaro again, picking him up by the front of his armor, ready to stab him in the heart. “NO!” Y/N yelled to take away his attention, as she took out her Stand, burning his cape. “I did!” she declared, looking at him sternly as she pulled her hair up to show that her and Fugo were the same person. “The soldier from the mountains. Oh, so it looks like you’re finally approaching me!” Dio gasped in complete disdain seeing the person in front of him, and so, he threw Jotaro away and started chasing after her, as she left the balcony, locking the door.

Of course, it was to no avail, as his Stand was powerful enough to punch through the door, and so, she had to run even more while thinking of some new scheme.

“So, what’s the plan?!” Iggy managed to catch up to her, and as soon as he realised she had no idea what she was doing, he gasped in horror. “YOU HAVE NO PLAN?!”  “Hey, I’m making this up as I...Go! Iggy!” she grinned at her companion as he used his Stand to fly himself and #5 to the other tower in front of him.

Just as he got away, Dio jumped next to her, punching away pillars, even the one that she managed to climb on, which in turn, broke through the wall, and she almost fell, were it not for her Stand helping her back up on the pillar.

The only thing she could do was jump and grab on one of the wooden ornaments of the roof, climbing up on it, while waiting for Iggy to fire away the fireworks.

She managed to get up on the top beam of the roof, and looked in the horizon, picturing her plan unfold, only for Dio to punch through the roof behind her, making her squeal in shock and walk away from him.

She tapped herself for any weapons, realising that she couldn’t rely much on her Stand, since it wasn’t as powerful as Jotaro’s or Dio’s, but the only thing she found was her fan.

Jackpot!

“It looks like you’re out of clever ideas.” Dio smirked down at her mockingly, as he stabbed through her fun.

Shockingly enough for him, she closed the fan and twisted it away, managing to easily disarm him and get his sword, getting in a battle stance.

“Not quite! Ready, Iggy?” she yelled, noticing her companion in the far back of the roof, a huge firework roped to his back. “I AM READY, BABY! LIGHT ME UP!” he cackled as the girl used her Stand to fire up the firework. “Bold of you to assume I can be defeated! THE WO-” he tried to say, but the girl started punching him, using his sword to stab his cape through the roof, rendering him unable to move, as the firework blew him away into the Firework tower.

The last thing echoeing throughout all China, that night, was a high-pitched “WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY” left by Dio Brando, the now defeated Hun Leader.

And then he died.

“Get off the roof! Get off the roof! GET OFF THE ROOF!” she kept yelling to herself, running away, as she was thrown off the roof by the explosion, and Iggy managed to get to her just in time, getting her down on the ground to safety.

Well, not quite...

The Sand for his Stand quickly got used, and he dropped her, making her fall on Jotaro, and they both hit the ground, soon followed by Dio’s sword and Iggy with #5 who kept crying.

“DID YOU SEE HIS DUMB FACE?! Hahahaha! You, #5, are one lucky bullet!” Iggy grinned, chewing on some well deserve coffee gum.

And so, the sky was filled with fireworks of thousands of shades and colours, everyone cheering for their greatest enemy’s defeat.

“That was a deliberate attempt on my life! WHERE is she?! Now she’s done it! WHAT A MESS! STAND ASIDE! THAT creature is NOT worth protecting!” Enyaba screeched in rage, her hair barely escaping being completely burnt, as she walked down the stairs, hitting Jotaro with her cane, all while her friends and the captain were glaring at her. “She’s a hero.” Jotaro glared at the hypocritical old woman. “‘Tis a lying snake!” she retorted in disgust. “She’ll never be wroth ANYTHING!” she grinned at him condescendingly. “Listen, you fucking hag-” he picked her up, ready to use Star Platinum on her, but the Emperor’s voice boomed as he also descended down the stairs, looking sternly at everyone. “That is enough!” he spoke, catching everyone’s attention. “Your Majesty, I can explain-” Jotaro wanted to protect the girl, at least this time, but the Emperor raised his hand for him to be silent and for everyone to step away, allowing the girl to step forward and bow down lowly in front of the Joestar.  “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Y/N. You stole your father’s armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonoured the Chinese army, destroyed my palace...And!” he kept trailing on, making everyone cringe at everything he was saying, fearing for the girl who could only look down in shame and guilt. “And...You have saved us all.” he spoke in a much gentler voice now, patting the girl’s head, as he, shockingly, bowed to her, making the hag follow his action, but bowing on the ground, followed by her friends, Jotaro, who tipped his hat at her, before kneeling in front of her...

And the whole China bowing down on the ground for her.

“Enyaba?” Joseph called out to his advisor. “Yes, Emperor?” she quickly asked. “See to it that this woman is made a member of my council.” Joseph smiled gently at the girl, making the hag gape at his orders.

“Member...WHAT?! B-But-...?! There are no council positions open, Your Majesty!” she stammered over her words, feeling sweat go down her forehead. “Very well. You can have her job. After all, she is the...To quote her, ‘Treacherous Snake’ that sold valuable information to Dio Brando.” he chuckled, making us all gasp. “Wh-Wh-WHAT?! H-How could you p-possibly insinuate s-something like th-that?!” Enyaba stuttered, trying to say something. “My spies found enough proof. And, to go even further, your next line is going to be : That wretched girl planned it all, just to steal my position!” Joseph smirked, awaiting the result. “THAT WRETCHED GIRL PLANNED IT ALL, JUST TO STEAL MY POSITION!” she kept hitting aimlessly with her cane, only to stop abruptly as 2 guards picked her up. “Throw her in jail, for now. We will away public execution, a fate fit for a traitor and a liar. Until then, we should celebrate our true heroine.” the Joestar declared as his lackeys removed the hag from that place. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, I think I’ve been away from home long enough.” she smiled up at him with thankfulnes. “Then, take this.” he took off his star necklace and put it around her neck. “So your family will know what you have done for me...And, this.” he handed her the sword. “So the world will know what you have done for China.” hearing those words, she couldn’t help herself and she threw her arms around the unexpecting man, who only laughed mirthfully, patting her back in amusement.

After she was done hugging the Emperor, she went for a group hug with her lovely 2 friends who stood by her all the time and still looked as gorgeous as any ugly concubine would.

When it came to walking in front of Jotaro, however, the man was looking at her, trying to find out what to say.

“Yare Yare Daze...You...You fight good.” he patted her shoulder awkwardly, looking away, not without catching a glimpse at the girl’s disappointed face. “Oh...Uh, thank you, I guess.” and walked away, getting up on the horse. “Come on, darling, let’s go home.” she patted her horse as they descended the stairs, taking in all China’s cheers.

As soon as they couldn’t see her anymore, the Emperor stepped next to his Captain, clearing his throat.

“The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.” he tried to sound wise and all, but Jotaro only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m saying, go get her, already! You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty!” he advised, pushing him to go after her, as he only chuckled, put on his Emperor hat and left the place.

---

It took a while for her to return home, but the first thing she saw was her father, sitting on the same stone bench under the Cherry Blossom, looking at the pond, waiting for her return, as the flower petals kept swaying in the wind, reminding him of his daughter.

She softly stepped in front of him, making him gasp out her name in disbelief, almost fearing that he was hallucinating or seeing ghosts.

“Papa, I brought you the sword of Dio Brando.” she quickly kneeled on the ground in front of him, passing him the enemy’s sword. “And the crest of the Emperor!” she took off the necklace, giving that one to him as well. “They are gifts, to honour our family.” she tried to explain, unable to read her father’s expression.

As she hung her head, Abbacchio could only shed a few tears, throwing away the gifts and falling to the ground, hugging his daughter tightly to his chest.

“Silly girl, to hell with honour and whatever, it was all my fault that you went to war, only for my sake and my stupid words, nailed into my brain. The greatest gift and honour is having you as my daughter, Y/N.” he declared, caressing her cheeks, wiping away her tears, yet unable to do so for himself, before putting her in yet another loving hug. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.” he kept stroking her hair, trying to sooth her, as they both let all their emotions flow with no blockage. “I missed you too, papa...So much...” she ushered, hugging him tightly, not realising that the other family members came as well.

As Bruno could only sigh, feeling his heart finally at peace, seeing his daughter and his husband finally reunited, safe, getting along, and happy, the same couldn’t be said about the grandpa, who scoffed in annoyance.

“Great! She brings home a sword, veeery useful. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man!” Mista looked at the man next to him in annoyance, only to be interrupted by a rough voice.

“Excuse me, that Y/N live here?” he asked, holding the helmet to his chest.

The 2 men could only stare in shock at the man who magically appeared in front of them, able to only point at the girl and her father who were embracing each other in the garden.

“WHOO! Sign me up for the next war!” Mista grinned, not being able to peel his eyes away from the Captain.“Well, I suppose the Acenstors are finally doing their job.” Mista blinked, almost as if struck by lightning. “Now I have to start wedding preparations! Pistols, get ready for a nice feast!” he grinned from ear to ear, getting a hold of Bruno’s sleeves. “Come on, give them intimacy! Let’s go!” he dragged the younger man away from there.

Jotaro walked in front of Leone, nodding respectfully and tipping the front of his hat in front of him, trying to figure out what to say.

“Yare Yare, to think I’d actually be doing something like this...Ahem. Honourable Abbacchio Leone...Uhmm...Ah, Y/N.” he noticed the girl peeking stepping from behind her father’s tall figure. “You...Forgot you helmet.” he tried to hand her the helmet, only to stop mid-way, giving it to her father. “Well, I suppose it’s actually your helmet, isn’t it?” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Go get him, girl.” Leone whispered in her ear, patting her hair, nodding at her to take the reigns in her hands.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she stepped in front of him, taking the helmet in her hands, smiling up at him. “Would you like to stay forever?!” Mista’s voice echoed throught he garden, making them hum in amusement as Bruno’s voice followed, scolding the man for being a hypocrite and spying on them. “Dinner would be great.” he smiled down at her with a tender smile that he never offered anyone but his mother. “Great.” the girl grinned at him, taking him by the neck of his armor and getting him to her level, kissing him tenderly. “Nice, very nice. But I think I liked the sight from back at the Palace...If you catch my drift.” the girl smirked mischievously, winking at him. “Yare Yare, what a troublesome woman.” he chuckled, putting his hands on her face and pulling her in another, even more tender kiss.

What they didn’t know what that the party already began at the shrine, as Iggy hit the gong for all the Zeppeli, Speedwagon and whatever other ancestors they had to join, all while annoying the hell out of Kars.

Somehow, Iggy hit himself enough to bounce back and find himself on the shrine stairs, and soon, Narancia’s childish giggles could be heard as he started running around him, and Y/N bent down to kiss the top of his head, thanking him for everything he’s done for her.

Of course, the chickens followed Narancia to the shrine.

CLICK HERE FOR :

PART 1

[2studyblog-blog]

Exams series (1): Dealing with stress

Exams season is back, and there is literally nothing we can do about it.

Sounds quite pessimistic, doesn’t it?

BUT on this post, I’ll give you a few tips on how to deal with stress and its lovely consequences! We really can’t have you hyperventilating two days before your test, can we?

PART 1: Identifying the source

We have all been there. Maybe you’re lying down in your bed and all of a sudden your heart starts beating like crazy! It’s okay, we can solve this.

Ask yourself: is there a topic that you feel especially insecure about?

Acknowledge the problem: Admitting it to yourself can help you reduce your stress. You know you can solve it tomorrow! Have faith in yourself.

Solutions: Meditating, listening to music that is intended to make you relax (see: this song), drinking water slowly, listening to the sounds of nature (I live in a city, long-live Spotify), write down what are you going to do tomorrow and realise that you can calm down: you‘ve got it under control. And one of the most important ones: Positive affirmation. Your brain is incredibly powerful. Use it to your advantage.

PART 2: It’s okay to not feel okay

Sometimes our bodies play against us. Until recently, after every test I took, I would get terribly sick. It is very easy for your body to shut down due to stress, so all those colds, stomach pains, and arrhythmias are very likely due to being under too much pressure for far too long. But hey, if they last for far too much, or are terribly painful, get. your. ass. to. see. a. doctor. For real.

But it is quite usual for students to feel like rubbish before / after a test or exam season. Have you been grumpier? Or do you feel physical pain? I’ve got you!

Solutions: I can’t stress this enough: Meditate. Try yoga (hello youtube!), or SELF-CARE. Get a nice shower or do your full ‘skin routine that I would never do at 6 am on a Wednesday’. Make yourself feel like a king / queen. Still not okay? Okay, let’s try something else. Exercising is proven to not only help you physically but also with your mental health. Get your yoga mat out of the wardrobe and try some nice stretches!

PART 3: GASSY is the new black

For me, it’s quite usual to get very gassy. Like, I don’t even know how do I store so much gas. The thing is, it doesn’t come out. Nah, nah, no farts, no burps... But maybe your stomach/chest/back hurts like CRAZY.  And you’re sitting idly in your room, wondering why all of a sudden do you feel as if you were getting stabbed repeatedly. Ouch.

There are quite a few solutions...

Yoga or stretches for your back / abdomen. Try looking up something oriented towards getting those bubbles out. Believe me, you will feel much better but it might hurt a bit.

At least in my country, there are capsules with herbs that make you go all-cow. And by all-cow I mean: prepare for those farts and burps. Winter is coming.

Massaging your abdomen. But hey, don’t go all Hulk on yourself! 

I think that will be all for today! If this helped you out in anyway, please support me by likinig / giving a reblog / commenting! You can follow me @2studyblog

Question of the day: What is some advice you wish you could tell your younger student-self?

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

August 24, 2021

“SITUATION NORMAL: ALL F***ED UP”

Merriam-Webster: Snafu — situation marked by errors or confusion. That's the polite way to define the old Army slang that encapsulates the challenges of waging war. Or in the case of U.S. involvement in Afghanistan, waging peace. Right. So, OK, how did Biden screw up our exit so thoroughly? Consider this: Trump made a deal with the Taliban — but strangely not the Afghan government — to pull out all troops by May 1, 2021. Mission Impossible. Then there is this: As of last month, U.S. intelligence and military brass were saying Afghan forces could hold off the Taliban for months or even years. Well, that's tough cookies for Biden because now he owns the historic snafu of death and misery that will follow him to the grave. But the trove of government documents obtained recently by Craig Whitlock and The Washington Post — a.k.a. The Afghanistan Papers — reveals that from the get-go U.S. leaders were fooling us and themselves about the chaos and corruption they suborned in what they knew was an unwinnable campaign. Neither Bush, nor Obama dared pull the plug for fear they'd be branded by failure. So hang it on Biden — the Republicans certainly will — but the fact is, he had no more than a supporting role in this Shakespearean tragedy.

POOF! — WHERE ARE ALL THE CLIMATE DENIERS ?

OK, where are they? Hey climate change deniers, come out, come out wherever you are. The Hoax Is Over! Ever wonder why average working people would go nuts every time someone said, “Global Warming?” And every winter when a snow storm blew through they'd say cute things, like, “The global warming is stacking up on my driveway.” Others — who aren't Republicans — would counter with facts, like, “The Greenland ice sheet is melting and the glaciers in the Andes aren't there any more.” But Deniers respond with:“The Earth is always changing and it has nothing to do with Exxon, my gas-guzzler and farting cows.” But now — strangely — they've gone quiet. Wonder if pictures of burned up towns in California and Oregon got their tongue. Republican Sen. James Inhofe, who once threw a snowball on the Senate floor to show the planet is not warming, said last month he never called climate change a “hoax.” Still, a Pew Research Center survey in May found that only 10 percent of Republicans and right-leaning independents were concerned with climate change. Maybe they could be convinced by more droughts, 117-degree summers and deadly flash floods and hurricanes — if they aren't killed first by that other hoax, the pandemic.

CHRIS STEWART: PATRIOTISM, SANCTITY AND OTHER B.S.

Our devoted Congressman Chris Stewart has taken a stand — what he claims is not a popular one — he's standing up for the good ol' USA because too many people choose ideology over country. (We are not making this up.) Yep, against all odds he's coming out for patriotism: “I want to defend a radical idea. An idea that is increasingly unpopular — mocked and sneered at by some: The United States of America is good.” Wilson and the guys in the band feel better already. They particularly like this statement: “Choosing an ideological group over our country is tribalism.” Good ol' Chris Stewart, always trying to bring the country together. Oops, there is this one tiny, little matter — he says Joe Biden didn't won the election. “After serious thought and consideration, I will not vote to certify the election,” he said. “I am safeguarding the sanctity of each vote.” Nothing like a little sanctity. No, Stewart was not dissing the Jan. 6 rioters but people who want equality  — like Black people who are tired of being killed. “The current popular condemnations are neo-Marxist,” he said, “in that they portray societal and individual struggles through a tribal dichotomy of winners and victims.” And as everyone knows, Black Americans have never been victimized.

Post script — Well that does it for another week here at Smart Bomb's tour of Dante's Inferno. The Delta Variant got pushed off the front pages for a few days thanks to our gracious exit from Afghanistan. (There is another chapter to be written there by the Afghan people, say Smart Bomb's sources.) Breakthrough infections are becoming more common as Delta wreaks havoc across the country. At Delta Airlines, they prefer passengers refer to the Corona Virus as the “variant.” But whatever you do when you're on a Delta flight, do not, repeat, do not order a Corona beer! And one more caution: Don't put your head up the flight attendant's skirt. Long story, but it actually happened. The passenger was fined $9,000 — but that was for not wearing a mask. And since we're on Covid, let's pause for a moment and doff our caps to Salt Lake City Mayor Erin Mendenhall for mandating masks in Salt Lake City schools despite the Legislature and Salt Lake County Commission that believe in your freedom to spread the virus. And finally this: After a rash of calls from poison centers, the FDA is advising vaccine critics not to use horse paste with ivermectin to fight Covid. “You are not a horse. You are not a cow,” the agency tweeted, “Seriously, y’all. Stop it.”

Well, Wilson, after a hard week some of the staff are considering the band's maxim: “When the going gets tough the tough get drinking.” It's not exactly rational, but it's better than horse paste. So anyway, tell the guys we need a tune to help us gird our loins...

Sun's up... looks okay The world survives into another day And I'm thinking 'bout eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me I had another dream about lions at the door They weren't half as frightening as they were before But I'm thinking 'bout eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me

And I'm wondering where the lions are I'm wondering where the lions are Wondering where the lions are

Young men marching, helmets shining in the sun Polished and precise like the brain behind the gun Should be, they got me thinking about eternity But some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me And I'm wondering where the lions are I'm wondering where the lions areWondering where the lions are And I'm wondering where the lions are... (Wondering Where The Lions Are — Bruce Cockburn)

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: Chad Tomas Johnston / The Stained Glass Kaleidoscope ​

June 2008

Art: DJG​

​Note: ​Questions on creativity for a book​.​

The big thing I want to know from you is this: You have worked as a janitor and a data-entry clerk (or something to that effect). Neither of those is highly prestigious. At the same time, you are creating art.

0​1) What drives you to create? Since a young age, I’ve always been fortunate to have outlets for creation. Naturally, almost every child has the freedom to play. But, my formative younger years gave me not only the freedom but also the cow and the whole farm. Growing up a farm boy product of the middle of the mid-west, I had room to romp and to roll. Lots of corn row cuts on my face. Lots of bicycle tire tattoos on the hot summer crater face of the black top road. Lots of holes in boots. Lots of arm snags on the rickety tree house scrap wood and nails. Lots of gold nuggets discovered in the cat poop sandbox. I still get kicks from all these things. Fast approaching thirty, I still plan to never grow a harder and complete “adult” shell. If I do it better be candied and with lots of decorative engravings in it. Though, I’m positive I’d just eat it. I have always been housed in my own little shell. I’ve been a big fan of my inner world since I was old enough to process it. The beauty of life is that people can pile a peel of tires on me all they want, but they can’t touch what morning glories I’ve got crowing and climbing inside. And someday when I’m gone perhaps the seeds I do sew on the outside will spread a bit and people can figure out what the heck my insides were all they want. I don’t know and don’t care. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. I hate to talk this way, like I’m a thinking man. But, I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed to say that I think about the inner tick-tocks. A lot of it is clogged cogs though. Some by me, some by others. I just have to create. It’s how I get oiled and weathered. It’s my lightning and lightning rod. It’s my confessional. It’s my testament. It’s how I scrub my own floors and stink them back up. There is creation in everyone and thing and evolution of that creation at the same time. We’re all positively guilty of dragging a blade, feather duster or spilt paint bucket behind us into the every day world no matter what business is plowed, pillaged or plundered. Every day is different for me. Every day or every time I make something I think about what that certain something would have looked like or would have had me feeling like had I made it yesterday or tomorrow, a month from now or even an hour ago. It’s hard not to think about that stuff, but I can’t help from it. Though, at the same time I generally feel that I’m always making what I need to be making at that time, even if something isn’t a direct hit. I’d like to have the mindset that I’m always making my best work. And after a number of years of making stuff, the act of it almost becomes second nature. In some ways when I’m working and alone, I am closer to MY maker. I feel I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I just have to take the life in, chew it and spit it back out. The process of each stage can be quite the intoxicating affair. But, it’s when I’m in the thick of it, that’s where there is real visual communication for me. I just have to take it in decent strides. I have been at stages with this where it can be controlling. That’s not a good shake. I love how every day is new and unique to the subject of life. Even if it feels the same as other days, it’s still a different notch in the meter. Even after expiration date, one can still influence the path of somebody else’s day by the things or thoughts they’ve left on by the side of the road for somebody else to either run over or stop to pick up. True, sometimes the things people leave behind can be a free tank of gas to the soul, gum on tires, rocks in the rims or a whole darn spike strip. My insides feel different each day. Some days I’m full of gas and some days I’ve broke down all over. I still get up on the same wall that I hug through the night and I eat breakfast with my mouth every morning and put the socks on my feet (unless I feel like an impromptu puppet play). But, my head is always in a different spot and sometimes my gut and my heart too. Sometimes I’ve got a big ol’ mess of ice scream soup and one heck of a brain freeze fart. I tend to approach the make things table under this same light. That is, with always being all over my own map, not with brain freeze farts. And each night I try to get to sleep with my spots smoothed out flat and run together. Though, not always easy. I love how baby dalmation pups don’t have spots for the first little bit of life. I love how they look like little blind wigglin’ rats during those first weeks. They don’t need the spots at first to differentiate one from the next or to say who they are. They just are. All of those little things that I do without conscience, the getting up and the eating and the sock putting…and right now, talking and blahking…these things are flat color like the baby fireman dogs. But, it’s the spots that are inside of me. The spots talk back and forth with light oozing in and out. Each day it seems like there has been a whole new troop of moths infesting and eating away. Making spots is what they do. There is always a new picture debuting in my picture house and sometimes shot with three cameras in several angles (like in the great classic film, “How The West Was Won”). Some days I break the box office. Some days I just break the piggy bank and scrape nothing but dust bunnies and boiled turnips. But, “scraping by” is not just reserved for the bad term. Each day these spots leak a different solution to the make table problems and sometimes you have to go scraping around for them to mix just right. Sometimes it just all comes just right. But, I don’t really see the approach to the way I make things as problems. Of course, sometimes it can be a problem to have something to do with creation and to have others involved. There are times that I don’t see how GOD sleeps at night knowing that he simply just chooses to love me (or his other creations for that matter)…even with all of these spotty feelings and things sloshing around in me. I’m sure that by reading this and/or knowing what you know of me, you’re probably noticing my constant teeter and totter. I’m like a mixed fountain drink at the corner gas station. And there are some days I’m the little left-over sugar water puddle you find rotting out the bottom of a styrofoam cup in the back floor board of a 1984 Ford Tempo. You know? The one with the sagged burgundy roof fabric that always gives you a cow lick as you get into and out of her womb? Back in the ’80s when life was a lot simpler and a week felt like a month and things felt like they actually felt like something, my older brother and I would find the blackest piece of advertising gloss in Mom’s “People Magazine”. I still have dry scalp problems to this day. I don’t have color in my wardrobe, so I suppose I was blessed with an eternal snow day every day. Anyway, what I’m getting at is that despite the little defective box of frosted flakes we clutched to our brows as we hopped out of the womb, my brother and I found an outlet to creation with this. We would place that black space of advertising on the living room end tables (during a break in cartoons and when there wasn’t an audience of MOM, of course) and shake out a snow storm. It looked like a big bang from my personal perspective. An entire little universe of ourselves. I must confess that I’ve been known to still possess this other-worldly talent of creation. I’d love to do a daily blog of this. Why not?! Or, maybe my new goal should be to get into advertising and demand to make more glossy black space for rent to hire those young kids out there itchin’ to get their big galaxies and universe down patty caked on paper… There has been something in me for a long time itching to get out. Maybe my creativity is like a big beautiful bundle of mysterious male peacock feathers that just keeps on wiggling and growing those magnificent colors. I’m always cutting off bits and plucking. Sometimes the bits tickle me good and sometimes they dust me and smack me over. ​0​2) Was there a relationship between your janitorial work and your art? That is, did one influence the other? I was raised with a blue collar. I sure do wish I could say it was turned up and in “cool” mode. But, in a weird way I think it’s the coolest because it is part of my building blocks. And no matter where you go or what you do, you’re roots are still alive and growing. Farming is in my blood. In some ways I don’t feel janitorial work is too far down the line from tending pasture, mending fence and plowing fields. In many ways an employee of a janitorial service is his own boss because he-she is alone and in solitude, just doing what they feel needs to be done to spruce up the place. I feel the work I do as a designer or maker of things is similar. I dust out the mind’s stairwells and kick things down them too. One of the things that would lure me to farming would be this comfort in being alone and just doing the thing. I miss that about being a janitor or groundskeeper. I miss having that freedom of choice of going to a hard to reach spot or a parking space that cars or people rarely touch, though it’s dirty from pure existence, and just being alone and making it look good. There is a pride I take in making things look the way I want them to look. Janitorial work will never go out of style. And neither will people’s idea that a janitor or a farmer, even a graphic designer these days is a low denominator of work and intelligence among the common people. I don’t aim to sound bitter here. I was never bitter in the many years as a janitor. I may have been a bit bitter as a farmer’s son, and only at 16 to 18 as a typical disgruntled teen dying to retreat…now I love and respect my upbringing and my former vocation. I’m made of it all and it has all helped shape me to who I am now. I just find it fascinating how people find it their need to put others in a particular place. While I had some great reception when working as a janitor, it also garnered a lot of talk. Even on the job people confessed to me that they had been trying to figure me out. I found this oddly fascinating that I could consume some of their mind with the fact that I was just working a trade to pay the bills. One woman I bumped into regularly at the parking garage cigarettes station each afternoon said to me, and after researching my story for months, “I just couldn’t put it together. It didn’t make no sense to me why you’d be wanting to do this kind of work. You seemed friendly and intelligent and come to find you’ve got things you’re doing on the side, well it just had me wondering.” I wasn’t upset with her telling me this. I appreciated her honestly and she just had me oddly curious…even within my own person and broom shuffling. I even feel that people in the art world (what little puddle I’m in) found this janitorial aspect of my creating as quite fascinating or strange. It’s not that I chose janitorial jobs as a means to put myself on display nor to play a particular “ideal” in order for people to talk or raise eyebrows. I just enjoyed cleaning house, I suppose. Many people close to me didn’t know how to handle my dropping out of design school to work bottom rung janitorial jobs in the early hours of 2002. But, I knew in my heart that it was exactly what I needed to be doing and it was crucial for me to do it right then. It was my time. I also knew that I needed to place trust in something at the time. There was at least to me a blind comfort in cranking the somewhat padded strings up on around the empty spool of a heart I had at the time. It made things make a bit more sense and comforted me just to try to get settled the stirred dust of my head while my body pushed a makeshift mop or broom on autopilot. And if it didn’t make sense to others, well, let’s just say I just tried to hold my head up the best I could and stay focused on ahead down my own paper trail odyssey. Openly, I would recommend anybody to try janitorial work, especially if you are looking for a simple care-free environment. It’s still a job though and can still wear you thin at times. But, for the most part janitorial positions are pretty easy going if taken with the right mixture of work ethic, responsibility and frame of mind. Maybe I’ve just been fortunate to work in some great places? Of course there are always the literal “crap” jobs. Cleaning out women’s restrooms at a 24-hour call center is possibly the worst, but it still paid the bills for a bit. And if you do a great job scrubbing those bathrooms, you can get moved up pretty quick like I did. And sometimes you’ve got to find the humor and ridiculousness in mopping up overflowing toilets. One time in a men’s restroom with over an inch of standing toilet water, I came out of the stall with my mop in hand as somebody passed by. Now, if I walked into a restroom with standing water, I’d definitely just hustle to another restroom to do my business. But, some people don’t care and just make obvious comments like, “Geesh, that there’s a lot of water on da floor”, as they look at me oddly. I followed this with, “I’m just waiting on Noah now”. It took some time for what I said to register. The guy was probably thinking of if he knew anybody with the name of Noah. But, after a few minutes it had him laughing as we shared urinal cakes and rubber duckies. I’ve worked in many various places with my janitorial jobs and have gotten to meet a lot of interesting, hardworking and diverse individuals that have all helped fuel my extra-curricular in some odd way, shape or form. I was even involved with monthly potluck dinners at one janitorial job. It was an amazing way to fellowship and bring together our little piece of the night shift community. The job site environments themselves were very inspiring to me as well. From junior high to my last year of high school I wanted to be an architectural designer of sports stadiums. That is, until I realized I was horrible at mathematics. Coincidentally, I got to somewhat fulfill my early dream as I pulled the trash for one day at my favorite baseball stadium design, Kauffman Stadium, home of the Kansas City Royals. I once won a Royals baseball essay competition about my love for the sights and sounds of going to this ballpark and here I was getting to pull the trash! It floored me when I got to the ballpark at dawn on that Tuesday in April of 2002 and could see the sun hit the green grass of the infield, and to think I was one of the few people there in that gorgeous testament to modern architecture and design, watching the natural elements bounce into and out of it. Moving on, I pulled the night trash and buffed the floor at an award-winning sports architectural firm for a couple of months. This was incredible as I got to see the pre-production and scale models and I sneaked a few little things home from the dumpster. I can honestly say that I did some work for a sports architectural firm. My longest post at cleaning was at the Kansas City Board of Trade. This was a unique place to work and oddly connected me to my farming past as this was the building that all the trades went on. It still dumbfounds me how that whole system of loud talking works, but I just enjoyed being there cleaning up and running errands. It was a job that I could have easily stayed at forever. And I was appreciated and people even took an interest in what I did out of uniform. I even designed a few posters, sketched and studied while I was on the clock. And there was a ton of great stuff to create with or to collect. But, one of my favorite things was to find things while cleaning, like hand-written letters or notes. I even found money a few times. I also enjoyed finding creatures that spoke to me from their confines in the pavement cracks. Certainly, it was a scary thing to just up and quit college to become a professional cleaner, to go into hiding to tan a new hide. But, for the first time in my life I was really carving my own initials. It may have been a selfish beginning, but I think that everybody needs to follow their heart more. If you trust in that, then you’re putting your trust in something higher that the heart strings are connected to. I just trusted that and worked hard at work and at play and kept my eyes open. In some ways janitorial jobs taught me to open up my lids even more. Design school had opened up new worlds within and around me. But, I think a lot of kids go straight from the comforts of the design lab and into full-time positions at design firms and they end up losing something that they had a good grip on months prior. It’s not that those types of professional atmospheres are bad. I think that everybody has a different approach to their life’s work or trade. Working in a design firm just never spoke to me at all and I’ve always been very protective of my craft since the early days of voluntarily locking myself up in my room or sandbox to create. Visiting many design firms from 1999 to 2001 had me worried sick about the idea of being stuck in a career that didn’t feed me the way I wanted to be fed. I didn’t want to eat at a trough. I wanted my own mini buffet and at my own leisure. And by the last couple of semesters of college, I was a wreck of a slushed soul from this and everything else that life had to offer. All of my eyes had become a bit closed up again except for the one that shown to me that something inside of me needed to explode. And I only knew of one way that could get me out. I suppose it’s safe for me to say in tree sap honesty that my brain has always been running backwards and forwards and catty-whompus since day one. I realize this now especially because I have come to see some of the ice bergs upstairs a little bit better that took me years to get to know. I sometimes wish I was in my early twenties again (only to have more time to MAKE), but I think I’ve gotten a better grip with age and life learning. Even though I still don’t quite understand what exactly makes me tick-tock and run, I can at least try to appreciate my masonry work and work at mending it in small clumps. Sometimes I think what makes me really run are hounds nipping at my ankles. Though, the dogs are sometimes good as they snap with ice pick claws the clamps that can chain me to some things. But, those same claws also dig into me. It’s not that I ran from problems or obstacles nor did I take the easy out and quit something important like a college education to sweep parking lots. I had exhausted myself in that particular stage of my early twenties and needed to mobile my shell before I got dragged down for more than good. I had something screaming inside and I needed to find the right spit can to collect it all in. Despite my own understanding of my actions, I do feel that a lot of people felt I was throwing myself away in order to pick up garbage. Actually, what I was doing was saving myself. With janitorial positions, I just knew that they were speaking to me just right and I was able to speak through them with my own work and I found comfort at that important place in my life. My design odyssey had me working for independent musicians. I knew of the occupational wallet hazards of such a sound decision before I made my move from slacker college design student to slacker somewhat professional designer. I just knew I was supposed to be in a Kansas City, MO ghetto living with a band (and some) in an old decrepit pile of an orange house and making stuff through the night and sleeping in my janitor outfit to go have some peace with thinking and making on the job too. And I wanted the stability of a fixed income, yet without a lot of the baggage that most people deal with in the day job day dream. Being young and dumb is one thing, but I felt that what I was doing was justifiable to my pocket book, the work force, my real work, and most importantly to my sanity (and others’ sanitation). ​0​3) What is your goal when you are creating something? That is, what are you striving to achieve? The marriage of a man’s inner workings to a blank space is incredible to me…when it hits just right and is of the moment and a spark of life happens. You can tell when something’s speak is whole and true because of the immediate connection you share with it. I gather this whether it’s a piece of art, a song, a movie, a writing or a bowl of sugary cereal. Heck, I can walk seven minutes to work and feel something so much bigger turning the keys and mashing buttons all around me. And when something man made speaks, you can tell that there is soul source material. There might be a hand-me-down system for putting it together on the outside, but you can tell when the halls of sincerity and honesty are opened up. You can tell when somebody’s exposing their bones and-or studying their bones and sharing observations of their world in a much bigger world with other smaller worlds encased. Whenever an incredible song, movie, writing…piece of nature or thought…speaks with just the right lens it can be like unwrapping a gift made special for the birthday boy or girl. And every day could essentially be a birthday in this way. I love the discovery of new things and to think that I could have found this many moons back, yet wasn’t in the right frame of mind or reference or reflection until the day I consumed it. I think that we should celebrate every day like this idea that every day is completely new and is perfect to us because it is in the now and we couldn’t have registered with it in any other place, point or time. Every day is different with me and my inner workings are never wound the same each day. And every day I’d like to think I’m getting more and more oiled and weathered at the same time. Life’s lightning is always ready to strike and I’ve got to play lightning rod too. It’s a hard balance on some days. But, I just want to approach each day within my own little arts and crafts section of the basement with the idea that I’m doing my best work and best that I can living down here. There are moments with creativity, when one can feel like a buried burrow. Especially when the older you get, the younger the clock gets. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and hard to match the pace of what the inside is screaming to the race outside. And I can’t pull the all-nighters like I used to. With my own art I try not to make it a chore. I try to make time for it and to always keep it in my saddlebags, within reason. I wish to give a paper trail that is of me and for others at the same time. I’d be a liar if I said my art wasn’t for me. It is and if I didn’t get something out of it or enjoy it, then I shouldn’t be doing it. But when others can wring something from my wash cloths, then that means so much to me. I really want to leave my little print on every leaf I pass, that is, if they all wish to hold my ink. Though, sometimes with deadlines and a full schedule that houses a day job, marriage and life stuff…well, making stuff can get a little rushed out and flushed out. It can start to feel like a same ol’ song and dance side show. Though, to look at the other side, you just do your song and dance while you’re here. We’ve all got one and some people never fully see it realized. I’m thankful to have what I feel are the proper fitting shoes and I just now would love to find a way to keep them on in a full-time manner. But, to keep on poking at the other side, I feel that there should never be a set switch to creativity. It’s not something that should be crammed into an eight hour day. My creativity doesn’t tune-out the minute I leave the house or get set in my current cubicled job of data entry. It can sometimes be charged in different ways and in peculiar ways. Though, sometimes with making things you’ve just got to recharge from over-exposure. I found out last year that it’s ok to say NO and it’s ok to take a time away from the table. I even learned this with a personal eating diet and schedule change. You can probably tell from a lot of my past work or “periods” when I’ve either been struggling or am bored, tired or am just way too constipated by life’s tap dance and life only. I think it translates to the end product, but I also believe it’s very much a testament of the experience and sometimes it can really speak in good and bad scoops. I think that it can happen to anyone and any profession, even full-time moms and dads. It’s not just something that happens to an artist or graphic designer. However, sometimes with art, the exact opposite can occur when you can feed off the energy of life and turn it into something else…something positive. It’s not a smooth relay, but fortunately I’ve been able to feed life to the creative torch. I’m at a place in my life where I just want to set my fire to everything. Stacking up seven years of attacking what it is I do in a professional manner, I’ve received a shiny little brush fire of praise and achievement. I’ve got a small band of pilgrims around the globe attracted to my blemishes and blandishments. I’ve been very appreciative and excited, even though some of my past responses or replies to this sort of thing have been a bit sheepish. I’ve always had trouble taking praise because I’m extremely hard on myself and it can be a very surreal experience when people take up with something that I’ve made and make it part of their experience. What could be worse, I’m always in strict competition with myself, but it’s also part of the discovery and making nature, I think. Again, a healthy balance is needed. Lately though, I’ve just been more excited for the idea of creation and making things and sharing things. But, sometimes it can be easy for things to lose their context and meaning with everything so I’ve got to start believing in umbrellas and nap time blankets again. The minute you make something and put it out there on the platter (more like, the buffet) you’re giving up a huge chunk of yourself exposed to the world. It’s just part of the game. That is, unless you’re painting in a cave or somebody out of connection with society just making stuff without an audience. I guess it would be like folk art. Things made by untrained folk artists really floor and inspire me. Their education is from life or from a higher calling and they must tell this story and a lot of them don’t start telling until later in life. It’s almost like they go back to being a kid again. I love this. They simply must MAKE and play. I try to strive to make for making’s sake. But, it can at times be hard being that I have had formal training and have had a fair amount of praise from the art and design community, so it’s easy for ideas to be pushed too hard and easy for the world to interfere. I do my best though at just doing what it is that I doo-doo. Finding beauty and inspiration in folk art makes me just find something inside of me and lead it on out at its own will and without whips and horse wranglers. Last summer I went from the Museum of Modern Art in New York City to just across the street to the American Folk Art Museum. Both are incredible houses for the arts, but it was the stuff in the less crowded, less artsy-fartsy American Folk Art Museum that really floored me the most. I had been studying a lot of the work for a few years, but to see it in the flesh was astounding. There is something very immediate and wholesome to it. Something so pure that is rarely touched by a so-called “professional” artist. And it can really challenge the thinking as to why we are making and putting outrageous price tags on things. But, it inspires myself to just try to speak the best I can and from a place inside of me. Talk. Talk. Talk. Talk. Blahk…I’m not skilled enough to strike up much debate on the issues here and I hate over-doing-it. I just enjoy folk art and regular art…and whatever else speaks. Anyway, the results can be ugly sometimes when you release something out there into the world. It can be personal poison when you clean out your ears. Everybody’s got an opinion and the opinion inside the messenger can be the worst. Everybody these days is a critic. I’m guilty. But, I don’t make stuff to be recognized or critiqued. I don’t make stuff so others can save me some glossy pages in their design annual. That stuff is great, but the work to me would be dead and done if I ever got to that point. And it would be hollow if I was just cranking stuff out for the approval of others. That’s one of the reasons I feed off of everyday influences and mood swings. I don’t want to spin the same wheels over and over. That’s one of the reasons I don’t wish to chase another man’s dream working in a design firm. I wouldn’t mind helping to hold the ladder on some cloud shaping a bit, but I’m not going to be their spotty dog that fetches design over and over and over. I’ve felt that once before even within the confines of music design and am just now at a comfortable place again with what I’m doing. But, there’s always a different dog nipping. Sometimes it can be pretty dumbfounding whenever something of myself comes out of me and then transcends the basement steps and flies the coop. It’s great to share the stuff, but I’ve felt an unexplainable emptiness at events like award shows or my own solo exhibition openings. The only way I can decipher it after much chewing is that, once it leaves the basement and my little world it’s really beyond me. I’m not a parent, but I suppose the feeling is similar to releasing a child to winds of the first day of school. Once they leave you, they are vulnerable to the rest of the world. And now all of this has got me thinking about what I’m really doing. See, my struggling is out in the open now as I’m passing myself back and forth with this writing and I’m on display for all to gawk at. Still, it’s just part of the trade. I’d love to be able to not have a clock tower and to not be hanging from it. I have a hunger to just make stuff all day and on my own time (well, when I’m not watching movies, eating or doing life stuff). I do have a hunger to share the work after the hunger to create it has passed, but at the same time it’s hard to get a good grasp on that too. And to do my work full-time I have to get the work out and about even more. A lot of my work has seen more of the world than I have and it’s all really exciting. If it can affect others and make somebody stop to get an itch of inspiration or a tickle, especially in our short attention span world, then that is a wonderful thing, I guess. That is a great thing and something that I don’t really have any control over. I just try to be a human being with a hunch back that needs its juices popped. And I’m dangling from that clock tower right now as Sunday supper is almost on the table and the dusk is dawning…and a new week of the day job sits and starts to melt me in my own stomach acid. -djg

[ascendingdevillived456-blog]

Am I pessimistic or just real?

Most of the time I feel like I'm accidentally surviving my own life. Not to sound like I'm bitching, but I don't have any idea why I'm alive. I've been trying to keep my life simple, but found out that is a very complicated and arduous task. I, physically, am 30some years old, and deeply know my spirit or soul or life force or whatever you want to label it as is old as fuck. I'm a little odd, I've been told, but when you realize early in life that nobody anywhere knows what in the bluest bowels of Hell they are doing, you start making decisions that TRULY matter on a high, VERY HIGH, level of deep understanding. Not to sound like a preachy zealous god-freak, but preeeeetty fucking sure we live in and on the garden of eden as mentioned in that book written 2000ish years ago. You know the one, oh... it has that bearded guy in the middle east who was the Christian God's son, but was a Jewish king, a rabbi, a carpenter, and who led a gang of misfit trouble making hooligans that wanted to make life better for everyone and ended up dead and martyred for it and is currently the nearly-nude mascot for countless kitchens and bedrooms in thousands of American homes. Jesus, what is that guy's name.... anyways... that book. I'm not great with names, nor hiding sarcastic remarks or, OR blatant disregard for that which really does not matter.... uh, uh, uh, oh well. Back on topic now. Ready? On this "bestowed paradise" of Ours, there are a few shitty things that I just WILL NOT turn a blind eye to. I got this list, you see, that has the WORST possible inventions on it that the world could have done without. Number 1 is people... People are needy, greedy, dumb, panicky, self-centered, talking alien-ape hybrids that ruin and destroy almost every thing they put their grubby little peter-beaters on. We kill for thrill and pleasure alone or in packs and have this problem understanding what compassion and sharing equally are. I did two years of kindergarten, consecutively I will add, I know you are supposed to share and be nice or something like, oh I don't know, your behavior is checked, and you learn to play with others. And now number 2 (insert low-brow sophomoric butt-mud poop-shit-fart he he he coment here. I did, but think up your own.) my list. Borders. "We look different in skin color or you talk funny, uh oh, I no longer have trust other human being, stay away from my personal comfort zone. We'll be fair though and draw a line in the dirt in case you get the same vibe from me. Ok?" "Ok, good idea. Me and my family will kill you otherwise maybe, yeah, no, yeah. Stay away. Good job." Are you shitting literally me out of your dumb asses? Where is the logic and practicality in that. We let famine happen daily because, what? Noone knows what to do? Help your fucking human brothers and sisters, and the little ones if your heart has room, you apathy ridden bag of severed dicks. This is everyone's home right now, teach people who have no knowledge. There is no such thing as unteachable. Read between the lines here guys and dolls. Break time. Let me tell you that I'm not being a rude loud obnoxious Internet troll here, some of my rants and tangent ramblings have a twisted sense of humor and are meant to make you take a minute and chuckle at its finest absurdities. Oh my, but we can also be multitasking manimals and take some inventory of ourselves and the other manimals in our lives and have conversations with each other like we're meant to. Anyone over 27 will remember a time before everyone had a fucking idiot screen in their face at all times. (Heh, jokes to come.) What separated us from beasts is our ability to develope and utilize language. To any younger folks reading this: we used to sit at the same parties you all do now, and used our minds and speaking abilities to have a blast. I'm talking some wicked-awesome fucking ideas and fun times were had before the wedding of man and technology. Put the phone down, and step away from the screens. Please. Number thwee, sorry had, food in my...nevermind. money is next on my little list of things I see as wrong. If a person has a lot of money, they generally have a lot of stuff to make sure they're happy beyond worry. On the other end of the spectrum you have... anybody? Class! goddamn kids pay a-fucking-tention! You have a person with little to no money. I will spell this out for you and you know who: that person can't be happy beyond worry because, huh? Some people have been going ape shit on their own happy. Hmmm. Opposite of happy? Right, thanks Julien, smart guy you are, UNhappy. I hope I just made a Julien's mind blow apart. Lol. Now, monetary wealth is referred to as worth. If you gots like soooooo much worth like it's bananas and stuff, then your like totally worthwhile or worthy. Julien, let someone else try now, get your tongue out of my ass you brown-noser. If you ever want to be heart broken ask the poor kid at an elementary school how he feels after the first recess after Christmas break. I bet the word worthless crosses both your minds and you purse your lips and them real big empathy tears well up in your eyes. That kid is programed to think money and worth are the same thing, and will do what he or she can to make sure they ALWAYS HAVE money when they grow up otherwise everyone else will know they are worthless. Made myself cry a little bit there. Guns guns guns are 4 on this list which may make you laugh or at best pissed. In case you missed I'd be remissed if I didn't say you need to come up with your own rhymes and eloquence. Guns though are made for one thing; ending lives. Plain and simple, keep reading you left wingers and right wingers both. The eagle that is the U.S. of A needs you both to work together in order to soar. I have really upset myself with saying that, but it's out there now, ain't it? I feel everyone should have gun training and own a minimum of three guns open carry on a daily basis (we've already got them and they've seemed to dug their heels in so we might as well adapt with the fucking things.) A semi-auto rifle for hunting food, a shotgun for food/eminent defenses, and a pistol for protection of family and home. Common knowledge for everyone should be stated from an early age: IF YOU DRAW A FIREARM ON A FELLOW HUMAN BEING, BE SURE THAT YOU CAN MAKE THE CONCESSION THAT YOUR LIFE HOLDS MORE VALUE THAN THEIR'S THEIR POSSIBLE DEPENDENTS. DO NOT SHOOT TO MAIM. IF YOU DRAW, SHOOT, AND SHOOT TO KILL. REMEMBER THAT THEY ARE AWARE OF THIS TOO, AND IF YOU KILL THEM. YOU MUST LIVE WITH THE MEMORY OF YOU NEEDLESSLY TAKING A HUMAN LIFE BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOUR LIFE IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN THEIR'S. guns huh? 5. Prescription drugs. Pharmaceutical companies are not your friends. Especially in the world of psychological medication and pain management. I take aspirin on occasion, in my younger days I was always told I "needed something to help me." Help me do what? From the age of 11 until I was into my mid twenties I've been on damn near everything besides Haledol and Geodon. Thanks for being good dealers...I mean doctors and pharmacists. If you want to ask my diagnosis I will share, but let me say that I haven't taken nor would I recommend any person to give a child DRUGS. They are not safe because they are prescribed. Ritalin is molecularly identical to cocaine. No bullshit. They are training kids to be druggies later in life and parents and insurance companies pay for it. Act now and for $799.00 a month you won't k ow who you are, have bleeding of the teeth, lazy finger syndrome, backward stools, brain bleeding episodes, coma and death, but wait there's more. If that pill doesn't work simply tell us and we will give you some other stuff that will make sure your little boy grows tits like a woman and may have a compulsive gambling and or masturbatory addiction with possible suicidal ideation. At least he'll do better on his homework. Fast forward to early adulthood... "oh mummsy? Daddykins? Whatever do you mean I'm no longer on your insurance plans? I simply must have all these pills to be completely the best I can be." "Gee you can just acquisition the local the scumbags who clandestinely make and distribute the bad version of the same drug you've been on for your whole life, my golden child." And don't forget the ssri's. Google this shit kids: ssri's long-term effects on the mind and body. And finally number 6. Social networking. I've never had a Facebook, MySpace, twitter, or anything else. This site I found accidentally while bored and this is my first time posting anything anywhere. The negatively charged part of social media is shit like; omg I 8 a waffle cone with chokl8 chip cookie dough ice cream scoops. Kill yourself you fat cow. Oh boo hoo sad face.... So long cruelty of this place, I have been wearing my life inappropriately I've been informed. Good bye 14 years. Wrapping up at this point as I've said enough for now. I'll be that eccentric and hilariously unfiltered buddy of you get my styles here. Just need to vent sometimes. Help me with Tumblr if you're interested in that... I guess. Looking forward to seeing responses. It should be noted that I have the utmost respect for any religion but abhor the use of faith as a means to control and not gain a better relationship with divinity. I'm not a doctor or political ass hat. I'm a song writing free-spirited music loving real deal motherfucker. "And I didn't even graduate FROM fucking highschool." I.Q. is up a bit above above average. No, that is not a typo.

[flauntpage]

Some Hairy Moments, But a Really Nice Win – Observations from Sixers 108, Thunder 104

In a battle of teams missing their best players, the 76ers’ “supporting cast” got the job done.

I put “supporting cast” in quotation marks because that group is comprised of All-Star Ben Simmons, four-time All-Star Jimmy Butler, and a future All-Star in Tobias Harris.

Nice win in Oklahoma City, and only deserving of a half-asterisk, in my mind. Sure, Paul George wasn’t available, but the Sixers played on the road without Joel Embiid and Boban Marjanovic and found a way to beat the Thunder for the first time since November of 2008. Furthermore, it was their first road win against OKC since they were actually the Seattle Supersonics. Philly had never won a game in Oklahoma City, ever.

You can thank Harris for that, because he was phenomenal on the night, his best performance in a Sixers uniform. Tobias finished with 32 points on 11-19 shooting while dropping in 5 of 7 three point attempts and going 5-5 from the foul line. He added 5 rebounds and 3 assists, plus a steal and a block while turning the ball over just once and committing only two personal fouls.

His biggest contribution was a borderline insane 4th quarter sequence where he made four consecutive clutch plays, and that’s where I’d like to pick it up, with 5:06 on the clock and OKC having clawed back to tie the game at 93. I want to start here because as we near the playoffs, the most important topic is going to be the end of the fourth quarter and how Brett Brown and his players execute in tight half-court offense situations.

Four Harris sequences more or less won the Sixers the game:

a spot up corner three (Sixers 96/OKC 93)

a brilliant rotation and block on Steven Adams, resulting in offensive basket interference (Sixers 96/OKC 93)

a difficult bully ball floater over Dennis Schroder (Sixers 98/OKC 93)

a pull-up three pointer (Sixers 101/OKC 93)

It was incredibly fun to watch in real time, an 8-0 Tobias Harris run that took us from 5:06 on the clock to 2:56 and gave the Sixers an eight point lead.

Take your pick of clips from those four plays. I’ll go with this one:

Hell of a feed from Ben right there.

But it got sloppy after that, really sloppy, and we’ll talk about it after the jump:

On the following possession, Steven Adams was able to back down Mike Scott to earn a foul, but missed both free throws. At this point, Brett Brown wanted to go small and opted for Scott over Jonah Bolden, who started the game and played 20 minutes.

Oklahoma City came down the floor missed another three, then the Sixers got a dunk on the other end to extend the lead to 10 at the 1:52 mark.

Game over, right?

Nope. It got pretty hairy.

After a Jerami Grant three, Brett Brown called a Butler/Redick pick and roll, leading to missed turnaround shot in the paint and bad foul from Ben Simmons on the rebound attempt, killing the clock at 1:27. Russell Westbrook hit both foul shots to cut the lead to five.

On the next possession, another 32 pick and roll with Butler and Redick, this time with Jimmy leaving his feet and turning the ball over when trying to kick the ball out to the perimeter. Scrambling to close out, Harris couldn’t contain Terrence Ferguson, who went right by him for the easy bucket. Three-point game, timeout Sixers.

Next trip up the floor – 35 pick and roll? Nope. Mike Scott would actually slip the screen and find himself wide-open on the perimeter for the biggest shot he’s hit since becoming a Sixer.

Look at Westbrook’s face as this shot goes up. He sees the blown perimeter switch:

GREAT SCOTT!@budweiserusa | #HereTheyCome pic.twitter.com/LQuVTT4kvg

— Philadelphia 76ers (@sixers) March 1, 2019

Massive three-pointer to push the lead back to six.

But another couple of brain farts made the game interesting.

First, the Sixers had another defensive breakdown, with another closeout that resulted in Markieff Morris going right around his defender, but no help at the rim.

That resulted in this response from defensive assistant Billy Lange on the Sixers bench:

I’ve seen a lot of that from Lange in recent weeks, a lot of demonstrative bench action as the Sixers continue to have late-game break downs.

The ensuing trip down the floor was one of the more talked about plays of the night, and it was the turnover where Ben Simmons tried to find JJ Redick, but coughed it up instead.

I think a lot of people felt like he had no interest in being fouled and taking the free throws at this point, but the Sixers actually were not in the bonus, so OKC had a foul to give. Instead, he gave the ball away, Jerami Grant got on the loose ball, and the Thunder called a timeout to regain possession.

OKC then got what I thought was sort of a cheap foul on their next trip down the floor, with Westbrook, totally out of control, just running right at Harris and forcing contact. I thought Westbrook kind of chopped at him with his left elbow, but Tobias does have his right arm down low here, which I guess was enough for the ref to blow the whistle –

I kind of scoffed at that live, because I’m not really sure what you can do when Westbrook is just coming at you full steam, not totally in control of his body.

Anyway, Westbrook hit both free throws to cut the lead to two. The Sixers went right back to the Butler/Redick pick and roll, which resulted in the missed jumper and humongous offensive rebound from Simmons, which was then knocked out his hands with 3.3 seconds on the clock:

Huge play. Massive.

On the first inbound, Mike Scott took the extra OKC foul to put the Sixers in the bonus. Then, on the second, Simmons got the ball to Redick, who was fouled, hit both free throws, and iced the game.

But holy cow was there a lot going on down the stretch.

Just to recap, after the 8-0 Tobias Harris run, this happened:

two blown defensive sequences

two turnovers

a Mike Scott clutch three-pointer

Butler unable to hit on any shots coming off that pick and roll

Simmons redeeming himself with a huge offensive board

I think most of those are individual concerns. Jimmy couldn’t hit anything off his late game pick and rolls both last night and Tuesday night in New Orleans. The pair of turnovers were killers. The defensive whiffs let OKC back into the game way too easily. If we’re being honest, it was the two new guys, Harris and Scott, that dragged the Sixers to the finish line.

It’s a bit ironic, because a lot of people were calling for more pick and roll from Brett Brown, and he’s doing just that, but the results are not great with Butler handling the ball in the late fourth quarter. He went multiple times to Jimmy in the past two games, at least five pick and rolls I counted that resulted in three missed shots, a turnover, and a blocked shot.

If you want to gripe about Brett regarding the last minutes, I think the one legitimate criticism is this – why not just put Harris in those pick and rolls? Stay with the hot hand. He was your best player on the floor last night, and I’d keep feeding him until he misses. That’s a pretty common theme throughout sport in general. It’s not just a basketball thing. If somebody is feeling it, keep giving it to them. In hindsight, I would have put the ball in Tobias’ hands. That was my only head-scratcher with Brett last night, talking specifically about the final five minutes.

Otherwise, nice win, great performance from Harris. Jimmy almost had a triple-double before those final five minutes hit. Ben went for 11, 13, and 11, and they got enough quality minutes from Bolden while Amir Johnson was less of a liability than he was last Saturday.

There’s work to do moving forward, but they’re 3-1 out of the All-Star break without Joel Embiiid, and I think anybody in their right mind has to be happy with that.

The post Some Hairy Moments, But a Really Nice Win – Observations from Sixers 108, Thunder 104 appeared first on Crossing Broad.

Some Hairy Moments, But a Really Nice Win – Observations from Sixers 108, Thunder 104 published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[xayneyierz]

I just feel so. so. so. sad but pls don't read and get triggered I'm emotional and hormones are raging

I realise we all hate bullies when we become self-aware (mercy, or not, to those who don’t) but when you realise you’ve been that way yourself one way or another when you were young or even now either consciously or unconsciously, it makes you wonder if you could have done it differently and could you have.

So I’ll start with what sparked this crazy self-reflection. Came home late had nothing to do while waiting for my hair to dry and I went to flipboard. The first thing I saw was a headline that went something like this: “Vulnerable dad tortured and made to eat his own testicle before he died”.

I mean. WTF right. This sounds like something from a fked up video game or some war crime shit.

So I read it. Not sure if it’s fake cuz after I did I couldn’t bear to read more about it and somehow I just believe that there are people who are perfectly capable of this and have the gall to plead not guilty. And it wasn’t even like that guy did anything. At least from what I read.

And then I stumbled across this article about a youtube account that posts videos of the parents pranking their kids. Just that the pranks go way beyond what those “just for laughs, gags” do. Again I only watched a sort of reaction video where the guy spliced some of the worst moments. Basically the parents would pretend one of the kids did something bad by deliberately setting them up, and then angrily confront them in like typical angry hollering and cursing parent way.

For one, any parent that curses at their child deserves hell. I don’t need to explain it.

And then the child is seen to repeatedly deny it and then burst out crying. Or in other videos they would see the older kids physically rough housing with the younger one. And according to the reaction video guy it’s mostly the same boy being targeted. Anyway i couldn’t bear to watch any more of the videos to confirm wtv. Just those scenes were enough. Apparently they’re all taken down the channel cuz they lost custody of that child and he’s now with his biological mom or sth but yknow thank heavens. But I’m sure if I search hard enough there will be reuploads and reaction videos and whatnot.

But ok and today plus yesterday I was reading koe no katachi and I watched the movie today. Basically about a boy who bullied a deaf girl and then got bullied himself when everyone else then saw him as a bully even though everyone else were just passive or even minor active bullies.

Ok so this just made me so mad and made me think so hard. To be honest with myself, and I have been for a while now, I have bullied people before. My brothers mainly. And not the kind of sibling bullying and occasional physical fights. I mean they never got out of hand especially with my parents there even though I remember this particularly bad one between my bros but my parents were always there to mediate.

The one I remember and feel guilt and regret about is when I made my brother play with my friends and I when we were in after school care and I would have him chase us and we would pretend he had mad cow disease cuz he was known to have a bad temper then.

It was fun then. I felt like we were playing together. I didn’t think anything was wrong. Then he didn’t want to do it anymore. I can’t remember what happened but when I thought about this incident a decade later I realised what it was and how he might have felt. But then I simply did not feel that way. Waa it ignorance? Was it plain neglect? Or was it that I was not taught to feel for others? Or think about other people’s feelings? Or maybe not taught, but I simply did not have the empathy in me. I don’t know.

But one thing my parents did that I hope I won’t if I ever do procreate was cane me for supposed lack of responsibility over my brothers. Things they thought I should do, roles they thought I should assume because I was the oldest. Things my brothers did I was accountable for because I should have stopped them. I should have known better.

Well I didn’t. And I didn’t want that responsibility. I didn’t ask to be born first.

I actually think this is a reason I shy from responsibilities and leadership roles.

Even if my teachers think I’m responsible ha.ha.

Then in primary school I said stuff that were rather mean to two guys. I didn’t think before I talked and they sounded fine in my head but when it came out it was just all wrong. For one guy I just didn’t read the situation well and blabbed something insensitive. The other guy I was trying to say something encouraging and seem like I looked up to him but when it came out it just became mean and demeaning. My friends who were with me immediately told me that it was bad when we were out the classroom and when I looked back I realised how bad it sounded and how far off it was from what I meant. But who cares what I meant if I don’t bring it across. I thought about apologising and explaining myself but I never got the guts to so I still feel the guilt now and if the guy remembers he’ll think I’m a stuck up bitch for the rest of his life.

What I’m trying to say is, every time I read news or watch videos of bullying I always wish hell upon the bully. Especially when they’re just so exceptionally mean. But when I take a step back, like koe no katachi, what if the kid really has no idea? Taking a look at myself, I don’t consider myself a bully but I did actually bully people. My parents aren’t bad parents. I didn’t intend it. But I did bully people. And sometimes all we see is the terrible terrible consequence of bullying. And for some reason kids can be really really mean and unforgiving. We blame society, we blame their parents, we wish hell on them but what if they truly had no idea? No one told them? No one taught them?

Of course for kids who deliberately bully and know it’s wrong and shit really should go to hell especially if they never learn.

But koe no katachi is really special in the sense that we see that this boy really had no idea? In his childish mind he just saw things in black and white. It didn’t dawn on him till he became bullied. Until empathy was forced on him.

I’m not trying to sugarcoat the problem of bullying though, I’m just trying to see this from every possible side. Especially since I personally relate to this. All the episodes I recalled are my cringe moments. Moments I regret, I wish I could change. But if I were honest, I don’t think I could. Because when I was young we all knew bullying was bad. But the actual definition was iffy and you may think it’s ok but others may not. You may be able to take it but some other person may not.

I had a friend who would call me by my surname and I started calling her by hers after a while as payback but for some reason I added a “stupid” in front of it.

I thought it was ok cuz I didn’t mean it in its literal sense and I thought I was being affectionate. Until mutual friends told me it wasn’t very nice and I stopped.

I don’t think I was a very nice person. I probably am not one now. But I’ll only have my verdict once I gain more insight in the future and future me can analyse my current self like current self does with my past self.

We always have moments we want to change. If I had known - but I didn’t. If I could have phrased myself better - but my brain just chose to fart that day.

I’m just so angry cuz of this ignorance. The pain it causes people. And the pain it causes me now, knowing I caused pain in others.

Maybe the parents of those kids really thought they were just harmless pranks. Maybe they believe that it’s part of childhood to be deliberately induced to tears on a regular basis for laughs. Or be wrestled to tears and tell your parents you hate them for making you feel like this for a joke.

Ok sorry I really can’t sympathise with the parents I’m just so angry. The worst thing is that they probably get their positive reinforcement from the comments of people worldwide whom I hope never have children.

People just suck don’t they?

Contemplation about mankind just makes me so angry and sad I should have never started.

Any sane person who saw those clips of the boy crying would think it’s wrong. They tell him to take a joke. That he’s the only one in the household who can’t take a joke. Well if my parents screamed at me daily for something I never did until I cried or made my siblings beat me up for cheap laughs on youtube and then tell me while looking into my tearful eyes that it’s just a prank, I would never trust them again. And then some.

Call me sensitive or a prude or someone who can’t take a joke but even the Halloween prank where parents pretend or even actually finish their child’s candy and wait to see their child cry is just terrible imo.

Why would you want to see your kid cry?

Why would you want your kid to doubt your words?

Especially at that age when they think you’re absolute. That you’re the perfect being. Well of course you aren’t but why are you deliberately trying to show them that lying for the sake of laughs is ok. Especially at the age where they think that their candy, something that they can call their own, is probably their entire world. Even if you think they’re replaceable and cheap. I mean I know how it feels because I’ve been through that. When I look back I realise how insignificant it is. How replaceable candy is or anything else is. That it’s nothing to cry over. But then it meant the world. The kids might not remember it. But what if they do. What if they take away a lesson that you didn’t mean to teach. Maybe they’ll do it in school next time. Take away their classmates’ lunch because their parents did so and said it was a prank.

Ok slippery slope maybe but is it really?

Idk where this post is going anymore but I was just so overwhelmed. So sad. So angry.

I hate that I actually did those things. I wish I was more self-aware at an earlier age. But unlike koe no katachi I don’t have the guts to make it right. They probably don’t even remember but even if they do should i purposely bring it up and cause them more pain?

Thinking about this just brought me to justice. Is an eye for an eye really the best way to go? Every time I get overwhelmed and angry about a crime or a terrible incident a human being did to another human being, or even living thing, I would wish the same thing happened to them. Or worse.

But then a terrible thought came to me. And it just made me cry because those people have a family too. Those people have people that love them too. And if those people have truly felt remorse, punishing them will probably not ease their guilt (can you truly pay for your crimes? As if you’re buying something, can you really be free after?). The victim and their family may feel better (but will they really? Of course there’s the whole other purpose of preventing further incidents if punishment makes them learn or just makes it impossible for them to do it again) But what about the ‘criminal’s’ family…what about them? What about the hurt to them? Who’s going to take responsibility? The criminal? Who’s going to make them feel better? Do they deserve it?

I just…why can’t everyone be aware. Be more aware. Why can’t I be more aware. When will I stop hurting people unintentionally. Will I do it in the future because I fail to think ahead? To think about other people in that moment in time.

This is why I need to avoid such topics.

Why am I so emotional I think my period is coming.

Nothing good is gonna come from me being sad. And there’s nothing to cure ignorance in the world even with the Internet.

Sometimes I wish I can unread things.

Undo things.

But no matter how many times I do it. I know it’ll be the same. Because the decisions I made is just how my brain works. It’s just how I am. And I can’t change who I was in the past without losing who I am. Not that anyone can change the past. What I mean is that harping on the past won’t help. Learning from it is good but just harping is useless. And all I can do is live with the guilt and make myself better. Maybe when I get the guts I can set things straight but why dredge up old and painful memories? It’s not like it will lessen your guilt. Live with it it’s your punishment.

I’m not saying people shouldn’t apologize for what they did wrong though I mean I shouldn’t need to keep putting disclaimers if you actually understand what I’m trying to say.

Sigh.

Why did I do this. Idk I don’t think there’s enough beauty in this world to counter the ugliness.

Like the strange concept of if there’s good there has to be evil or vice versa.

What if there are no poles? Is it really that bad?

Why should people suffer so others can enjoy happiness.

If happiness cannot exist without suffering cuz there always has to be a counterbalance then…

I’m going into communism and total dictatorship haha and we all know how that turns out.

Sigh ok time to stop rant over.

[blograzorwit]

Jest A Minute (25/1/2017) from Subroto Mukherjee

Trump's Oaths-------------------------- Don Trump took oath as the new global Mafia don -- sorry -- as the new US President (a kind of president to which there's no precedent!) You know, taking an oath is a pleasant change for the Don. Normally he does not take an oath. Instead, he prefers to hurl a stream oaths at his critics. *** I am happy. Oh, not for the Don's oath-taking ceremony but for the millions of protesters around the world who came out in streams to utter streams of anti-Trump 'oaths'. *** Chilling--------------- His inaugural speech could be summed up in just 3 words : America, America, America! All American jobs to be reserved for Americans only. In other words, cutting off  all outsourcing. In other words, nightmares for our business and industry, especially our IT industry! *** Blood, Sweat And Tears----------------------------------------- The Don is amazing. But only in one sense. He is an astonishing study in self-contradictions. He built his imposing Trump towers on the blood, sweat, tears and cheap labor of illegal Mexican workers.     Now he is out to build a wall to keep out the Mexicans. Really? So who -- pray -- will labor on less than minimum wages to build his new towers? *** Don's Religion-------------------------- Earlier the Don had declared he would be India's best friend in the While House. He claimed he loved Hindus and the Hindu religion. Ooh, we are tickled -- we are flattered -- we melt at such pats on the back.But never mind his flattery. He may love India and us Indians and he may love our religion but what bothers me is his own religion. I'd never trust his religion -- because he has only one religion and that religion is MONEY! The prophet he swears by is no prophet at all but PROFIT! *** Have I seen xXx Return Of Xander Cage? No. I am waiting for Xander to return to his cage. Then I will go see him at the zoo. *** Ever wondered why Vin Diesel named his movie series The Fast and The Furious?   One look at his bald head and you know why. Hey, if your hair fell out that FAST, you'd be equally FURIOUS. *** Ever wondered why Vin Diesel calls himself 'Vin'? Simple. He loves vehicles. And 'Vin' stands for Vehicle Identification Number. *** Vin Diesel, He Of The Fast and The Furious Fame----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Why did Vin Diesel pick this name 'Vin Diesel' for himself?  It was inspired by an incident in his childhood. Once when he was a boy, by error he consumed diesel and started running FAST and FURIOUS around the house. Naturally, crazed with concern, his parents called up the doctor. The doc reassured them : "Vin is running after taking diesel? Don't worry. He will stop running when he runs out of diesel." *** Boeing Boeing Bong!--------------------------------- SpiceJet has placed an order with the US Boeing company for (hold you breath!) 205 aircraft for 22 billion! Ooh! Our SpiceJet has thrown so much business to Boeing, I bet those guys out there are celebrating -- boeing boeing bouncing with joy over this jumbo order! *** Chill it, Chinks!----------------------------- India will supply its advanced Brahmo missiles to Vietnam. And, as expected, the Chinese dragon has got its tail in a twist over this! In a show of great annoyance, the Chinese dragon is stamping and stomping its feet, growling and snarling, fuming and SMOKING from its nostrils. Here's offering a piece of my mind to the Chinese dragon : Chill it, you Chinks!  Smoking is bad for your own health! *** RIP, the 'Exorcist'--------------------------------- William Peter Blatty, who wrote and directed that goosebumps movie, that horror classic The Exorcist, is no more. And I am afraid his demise can only be one thing -- the work of the damn Devil! *** PEElease, Spare Us The Filth!----------------------------------------------- Trump paid hookers to pee on Obama's hotel bed in Moscow! Yeah, that was yesterday's front page news! We sometimes wrap garbage in old newspaper pages to dispose the filth.Now that has been reversed. In the morning, such filth is being delivered to us in the newspaper!   What next? Anyway, who cares for humbugs like Trump or Obama? I felt sorry for the bedbugs in that bed that got peed on! Arnold Schwarzenegger is the Terminator. So what is Mr Trump trying to prove? That he is the unstoppable 'Urinator'? *** No Good Days -- Or Good Food!----------------------------------------------------- On the Net, a BSF soldier just did a video expose on the 'rotten' food served to our stoic soldiers at the border! If this fails to shame our military top brass or our so-called 'patriotic' leadership -- nothing will shame them! What happened to the promised good days? Not happening. No good days for us -- or good food for those who deserve it the most -- our hardy, brave soldiers securing our borders! *** Bollywood's Pathetic Herd Mentality------------------------------------------------------ Dangal is a big hit. As they say, nothing succeeds like success. In other words, the herd mentality rules Bollywood. So now every other film maker here is toying with the idea of making a wrestling film. And every other leading man is hoping he will star in it, hoping he will be paired with Sunny Leone and hoping he will get to 'wrestle' with Sunny in the bedroom! ***   India Lends A Helping Hand-------------------------------------------- Eman Ahmed of Cairo, Egypt. She is the heaviest woman on earth today. She weighs a staggering 500 kilograms. Forget staggering, she is so overweight, she simply cannot move! Poor lady! But, to our pride, our country has risen to reach out a helping hand to her.India is living up to its tradition of compassion and hospitality. India has offered to air-lift her to Mumbai for a fat-removal surgery to save her life. An entire jumbo jet is being re-designed and re-fitted to accommodate her mammoth bulk. And a whole new facility is coming up at a hospital in Mumbai to make room for her stay and operation here. Wishing her the best. (And I am tempted to add this. She might be the fattest person in the world but I bet even she has less fat than some of the fat-heads running this nation right now!) *** Pension Tension----------------------------- Heard this? Lalu-ji is eligible for it and he will get pension. Phew, isn't that a relief for us? I am so happy. Now I can sleep peacefully at night! I was so worried that a multi-millionaire VIP like him might have to suffer tension for not getting any old-age pension! *** Mumbaikars who took part in the Mumbai Marathon did well. And why not? They run daily all year around to train for this race. As I do, you should see them running at the Dadar station every morning to catch their train to work. Impressive stamina and speed! *** Serves You Right, Jerks!------------------------------------------ Today's front page headline : 1 trampled and 2 gored to death during jallikattu! So sad, so tragic! Here are my 3 words of sympathy for the 3 : SERVES YOU RIGHT! All those who trouble, harass, torment and torture poor, simple, innocent animals in the name of sport, culture and tradition are the worst kind of JERKS on earth! ***   The Magnificent Cow----------------------------------- I have always looked upon the cow as a miracle of Nature!  After all, it performs miracles everyday! It might chew on dry, unappetizing grass, it might forage in the street garbage to satisfy its hunger but -- wonder of wonders -- it can turn all that into rich, bubbly, creamy, nutritious milk for us! Milk that we savor in its myriad by-products ranging from paneer to cheese and dahi to lassi! As if that was not enough, a minister enlightened us recently by attributing more miracles to the incredible cow. Miracle 1(according to this minister) : cows inhale carbon-dioxide but exhale oxygen for our benefit. Really? Is a cow a tree? Because that's what trees do. Forget producing oxygen, in fact, cows fart -- sorry -- pass the methane gas (as all cattle do) which is a major contributor to the hot-house effect we are all suffering and which is killing our planet! Miracle 2 (according to our minister) : cow dung has properties to block radiation. Wow! This is news to me and must be news to our scientific community as well. So let me pose a hypothetical question to our cow-expert minister : God forbid but, in the event of a nuke strike on us, how will this honorable minister save himself from the deadly nuclear fallout -- radiation? Will he jump into a tank of cow dung to keep the radiation from touching him? Anyway, moving on to Miracle 3 (as per our scholarly minister) : the cow emanates an antiseptic, antibiotic aura! Yeah, believe it or not! And merely standing next to a cow can cure your cough and cold! Great. Since right now I sneezed and I suspect a cold is coming on, let me go see a cow -- and not my doctor. By the way, I also suspect that our erudite minister (who is obviously a global authority on cows) went abroad for higher studies -- distinguished himself as a student at the OX-ford University -- and returned after acquiring the brains of an OX! ***