#Trench Welfare

[crewtawn]

Im So Normal.

My boyfriend's solly loadout is so near and dear to me, look how silly he is... anyway. Drew my medic loadout assessing the damage.

#cw: gore #team fortress medic #soldier tf2 #team fortress soldier #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #load out #soldiermedic #fruit scones #trench welfare #soldier x medic #team fortress 2 #tf2

[cat-soap-opera]

no but for real, every single person ive met whos believed in animals having the same rights as humans has been neglectful to their animals. bc they look at animal care through the lens of what a human would like, instead of what that specific species/individual would like. theyre always the ones doing shit like feeding wildlife n getting upset when those animals need to put down bc they no longer fear humans n expect food from humans, resulting in them being prone to attacking you.

animal rights circles encourage that shit n much more, such as not trusting vetenarians or other animal experts with verifiable experience bc they usually do not like aras for various reasons (i.e. disproving whatever misinfo theyre spreading). its a whole thing.

#mod posts #i have spent years in the animal welfare trenches

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by: @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn and @galaxycunt (last week) thank you all and tagging you back!!

Tagging: @voidika @madparadoxum @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @confidentandgood @detectivelokis @roofgeese @florbelles @schoute @poetikat @direwombat @nightbloodbix @strangefable @harmonyowl @wrathfulrook @locustandwildhoney @clicheantagonist @shallow-gravy @stacispratt @adelaidedrubman @marivenah @v0idbuggy @trench-rot @megraen @corvosattano @kyber-infinitygems @strafethesesinners  @vampireninjabunnies-blog​ @clonesupport​ @thesingularityseries

Work on chapter 30 continues on, and here’s a snippet from Staci trying to break Kit out of the cages:

Leading her through the vet center, Staci kept his head down as if he was on a mission from Jacob himself, as if having the Deputy with him, free of restraints, was perfectly normal. They passed by men in red balaclavas and long leather dusters and none of them made a move to stop them. 

He had to just keep moving.

Don’t look back, eyes forward. 

It was the last thing he remembered Earl saying before he was left alone to wait at the helicopter, the eyes of a hundred cultists all focused on him, if not on the party that was there to arrest the Father. God, what he would give to go back to that night and to never have landed there or to have fucked off to Missoula before shit went down. 

But there was no going back, only moving forward. He just had to keep pushing through, despite the fear that ruled him. He was sure he looked like a madman to Kit, in most ways he was one now. He had spent so much time cooped up with these people, listening to the propaganda, it was clear even to him that he wasn’t the man he used to be anymore. She just had to trust him, trust that he had her welfare in mind. 

"Stace, who is it? You have to tell me," she whispered when there was no one else around to hear.

"I will. But there's other things you have to see first. We're almost there."

As he climbed the set of stairs that led to Jacob’s office, Staci checked over his shoulder to make sure she was still following him, that she hadn’t run off. While she wasn’t on his heels like he expected, she was still in pursuit of him. 

Opening the door, the room was lit by desk lamps, that telltale orange glow that shone out into the dark. Maps were laid out on Jacob’s desk, with chess pieces on top marking where members of the Wolf’s den had been, tracking the movements of the Deputy, marked off zones showing where his foothold still held. 

Kit’s fingers tracked over the files and loose papers scattered across the table as she moved into the room. She didn’t seem fazed at all as she picked up a stack of black and white stills of her from security footage at different cult outpost sites.

“He’s obsessed with you, has been since you started making trouble in the Valley and killed his Chosen.They all are.”

“I know,” she answered, tossing the photos back down on the desk.

Another shiver coursed down his spine. She seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing. As if it was old news and not something that should have chilled her to the bone. This cult, its Heralds, its leaders, had made her into some sort of deity, another idol that they’d propagandized as much as they had about themselves. When he’d first arrived at the Grand View he remembered them calling her “sinner” and then once he was at Saint Francis it all changed. She was no longer the enemy, Joseph had started calling her the Lion. Some symbol of their coming foretold apocalypse and that didn’t affect her at all.

“That doesn't bother you?” He looked her up and down, surprised by how cool her demeanor was.

“It used to,” she said with a shrug.

“Kit?”

She walked past him, further into the office, ignoring the look of fear in his eyes. “You said you’d tell me who my sacrifice is.”

Cold, direct, straight to the point. She’d always been that way, but in this moment, when he was trying so hard to get her to leave, it made him wish she had more of a heart. 

“I did.” He looked down at the desk top, his disheveled, shaggy hair falling forward into his eyes, and gave a heavy sigh. “He knows you’re ready. Ready to do it.” 

Shoving the photos of her out of the way, clearing the desk, he pointed at a map with Eli’s photo stapled to it. Tapping on it to get his point across as he looked at her wide-eyed. “The trials.”

On the wall to their right side was a large cork board covered in maps, photos and newspaper articles, connected by strings and pins. Staci jogged over to it, his hands drawing her attention to the plans that had been set into motion before she’d even stepped foot into the Whitetails. 

“See, he’s got it all planned out.” 

Her eyes widened at the sight as she stood in front of it, scanning over all the intel Jacob had accumulated on everyone in his region who presented any risk to his brother’s plans. 

Staci held his arms like a gun, “One, two, three.” Waving them back and forth as if he were shooting. “one , two, three. One, two, three, one, two, three. Then he’s got you,” he said with a snap. “It becomes second nature. Routine. He gets in your head, and you don’t even realize it.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling at the fibers of the warm material of the sweater wrapped around her. “You can’t ever go back. You understand?” 

His eyelid twitched as he stared at her, but all he got back was a wall of ice.

“Can’t go back where?”

“To Eli, to the Wolf’s Den. You’d be signing their death warrants. Jury. Executioner…” His dark eyes scanned over her. “Judge.”

“Staci,” she said with a scowl.

Her voice took on that same commanding tone Jacob’s did, the one that told him he needed to be quiet – to know his place.

“He gives you warm clothes, keeps you fed…he still praises you.” His eyes fell to the floor, jaw clenching, his stomach dropped at the thought of how much that still affected him. “Special treatment.”

“You sound almost resentful about that, Stace.”

He said nothing in return, not even a retort. She was right. They both knew it. That little bit of praise Jacob showed in the trials could feed a man when he was starving in the cages. That whispered “excellent” that lived in the back of his head stopped him from giving up, it stopped him from trying to escape. He was desperate to hear it again. 

#wip wednesday #far cry 5 #american beasts #staci pratt #oc: kit cross #just a few chapters away from kit going full cultist

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 33

Chapter 1     Chapter 32

Bruce Wayne entered the recovery wing with none of the pomp and circumstance that usually followed Gotham’s resident billionaire. Instead, he strode down the hallway quietly with a furrowed brow and hurried movements, his trench coat billowing out behind him dramatically in defiance of the somber mood.  He didn’t need the attention or drama.  They’d had quite enough of it for the night.

Right then, he just needed to see Marinette.  He hadn’t seen her since she slapped him and then decided to go off on an irresponsible, ill-conceived suicide mission to rescue Adrien and offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb before they even had a clue where to go.  And regardless of how it turned out, her rescue was all those things.  There were a hundred different ways she could have died during that mission.  She was damned lucky she didn’t and the heroes who helped her were even luckier, because if anything had happened to Marinette, there was no place they could have hidden that Batman wouldn’t have found them.

Although how she knew exactly where to go was a question they still didn’t have an answer to and one of the many things they were going to discuss when she was feeling better, the priority for that night was her welfare.  He’d made sure she was safe.  They’d beaten every dead horse they could find, gone down every rabbit hole he could unearth, in order to ensure it.  It wouldn’t last.  It never did for them, for anyone living in Gotham.  But for then, for that night, she was as safe as she could be.  They could have a moment of peace, she could have a moment of peace, to start to heal, and maybe they could think about recovering what they had before, as paltry as that was.

But even after knowing she was safe, and he did, he knew she was safe, he still needed to see it.  He needed to see her.  He needed to verify with his own eyes that she was okay.  He needed to feel her, feel her heart beating, her chest expanding and contracting, and the warmth from her skin, and know she was okay.  He needed to hold her and comfort her like he hadn’t been able to before, to make things okay for her like he was supposed to do, like he’d been trying to since she was born… unsuccessfully judging by how things had gone the last few times he’d seen her, but trying.

And things were different now.  He could be there for her in a way he hadn’t been able to be since she was a baby, just when she needed someone, him, more than she ever had.  And now that Adrien was safe and things had calmed down, there was a chance.  A chance for a fresh start.  A chance to wipe the slate clean and start over.  That’s all they needed, a fresh start.  And they, he, could do it right this time.

His eyes were taut as they darted around the hallway quickly with a well-practiced ease that spoke of a natural tendency to do so.  His brows furrowed further at not seeing Marinette. He was definitely in the right place; Tim, Conner, Max, and, if his memory of his research on Marinette was right, her friend Chloe Bourgeois, were all there, but no Marinette.

Which meant she must have been hurt enough to require admission and be in a room.  He let out a breath.  While that wasn’t a great sign, it also didn’t necessarily mean anything terrible.  Duke had said she was walking around just fine a bit earlier.  So, it was more likely she was getting checked out or she already had been checked out and they were being cautious and observing her overnight, which he was very grateful for.  She likely needed the rest.  But maybe he could… just… watch her as she slept, just to reassure himself she was still breathing, that she had survived, that his worst nightmares hadn’t come true.

His eyes settled on Tim.  “Tim,” he nodded, quickly scanning the hallway again this time for all potential entry points, potential security weaknesses.

“Finally made it, I see,” Tim grumbled without meeting Bruce’s eyes, or even looking toward him or the others except for Stephanie who plopped down next to him.  She gave him a hug and reached over to squeeze Conner’s forearm with a sympathetic smile.

Bruce raised an eyebrow in mild surprise and gave Tim a pointed look.  He knew why Bruce had taken so long.  Hell, he’d been there with him for most of it.  The attitude was unhelpful in this situation.  It wouldn’t help Marinette and it wouldn’t help the family.  Not to mention Tim couldn’t have beat him there by too much to have that much attitude.

It was the kind of attitude he expected from Jason, not Tim.  He looked around quickly finally registering Jason wasn’t there.  Which had to mean he was with Marinette.  Which brought him back to the pressing question of where she was.  “Which room…”

“Oh, hey look, it’s the assholes,” Chloe hissed loudly cutting him off.  The calm and tiny bit of comfort that she had managed to find over the past hour evaporated instantly with the appearance of Bruce Wayne.  Her eyes that had warmed up slightly for Conner, hardened into an icy glare that dropped the temperature of the hallway for everyone.

Bruce sighed and turned toward her, bracing himself for the emotional outburst.  He was hoping to focus on Marinette.  This was the last thing he wanted to be doing at the moment; having a confrontation with one of Marinette’s best friends, but like everything else since Marinette came to Gotham, luck was not on his side, and now he was going to have to deal with an irate friend, an irate friend she trusted and liked significantly more than she did him.  Which meant he had to try not to offend her, which would be significantly less daunting if she wasn’t staring ice daggers at him.

Chloe stood up and straightened to her full height, taking a moment to assess the businessman and his children with a cold, analytic look.  After a beat, she moved forward, ignoring Dick and Damian and avoiding Max’s desperate lunge for her, until she was pushing into Bruce’s face it's a vicious scowl.  “If I didn't think it would hurt Dupain Cheng, I would absolutely eviscerate you.  And unlike Lex Luthor, I could actually do it.”

“Chloe,” Max hissed. His eyes darted from Chloe to M. Wayne, his boss and one of the most powerful men on the planet.  As confident as he was in Chloe’s ability to destroy someone, body and soul, and wring every ounce of hope and enjoyment of life out of them until they had lost all will to live, M. Wayne was not someone to underestimate.

Her scowl morphed into a malevolent grin as she cocked her head to the side, her eyes gleaming as devious thoughts flew through her mind.  “I understand all the Insidious ways to get into someone's head.  You don't survive hawkmoths rule for three years without it.” She looked away with a scoff.  “Unless you’re a total goodie two shoes like to Dupain Cheng… or Adrien…”  Max cleared his throat quietly.  “… or Max,” she amended.  She groaned and threw her hands out.  “Jesus Christ.  I swear it isn’t just me, okay.”

She took a breath to recenter herself.  When she returned her eyes to Bruce, they were cold as the Arctic tundra.  “And I guarantee I understand how to absolutely raze someone’s reputation and business legally, with just the power of suggestion, significantly better than whatever teams of people you have working for you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her and nodded slightly to her in acknowledgement; a tired, polite smile plastered on his face. “Thank you for the warning.  You must be Marinette's friend Chloe,” Bruce answered calmly.

“Mme Bourgeois, thank you very much,” she sneered, his unaffected front grating on her already frayed nerves.  “I don't know you and you don't know Marinette well enough to call her friends by their first names.”

“Hi, Max,” Dick threw in pointedly.  “How are you doing?”

Max’s head whipped over to him in surprise.  He offered a weak smile and waved awkwardly.  “Dick.  M. Wayne. I’m fine.  Thank you.  Nice to see you both again.”

“Yeah,” Chloe sneered in agreement.  “Awfully magnanimous of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it on your schedule, Mme. Bourgeois.  I was with the police and Batman trying to make sure my daughter was safe and verifying there was no further threat, at least none that they knew of.  Confirming there was no backup plan that would be enacted,” he responded.  His voice calm but with a clear-cutting sharpness to it.  Yes, he was later than he should have been, but for good reason, and she had no right to question him.

“That’s sweet,” she cooed back in saccharine sweet tones.  “I’m sure it will be a comfort to Marinette that her entire family was so concerned about her they all found reasons not to be here with her while she was breaking apart over whether her brother was going to die because she might not have gotten to him on time.”  

Tim had the decency to shrink back at the admonishment.  Dick frowned and looked to the floor while Damian looked away petulantly, trying to pretend he wasn’t affected by her words.  They were concerned about her.  They were protecting her.  Maybe not in the way her friends would like, but they were.  Non-vigilantes couldn’t understand having to make a choice like that. It was a hard choice, but the right one. His father had said so.  Dick had said so.  They made the right choice.

But Bruce set his jaw tightly and glared at her for just a moment before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  He knew this. It wasn’t news that Marinette had been so deeply affected.  He knew she would be; he had just weighed that knowledge against the good he could do protecting her, and decided protecting her was more important.  There was no good choice only a less terrible one.  He made his choice, and he’d make the same one again.  For Marinette.  But that didn’t mean he liked hearing it.  “I am trying,” Bruce sighed.

“Clearly not very hard,” Chloe scoffed.  “You tried to keep her from helping Adrien.”  She shook her head incredulously and laughed, an empty, hollow laugh.  “You don't even know her well enough to know why that was such a monumentally, irrecoverably detrimental decision.  It never turned out well for Hawkmoth when he tried, and he tried frequently.  Don't know why you thought it would work out well for you.  Marinette and Adrien have saved each other and everyone else more times and you have dollars.”

She turned around to walk away, done with more than just the conversation.  Done with the night.  Done with Gotham.  Done with him.  She wouldn’t even deign to abusing his money at this point… no, yeah, she still would, just even more obnoxiously than she was planning on before.  “And he thought she would just walk away.  Idiot,” she scoffed loudly enough for her voice to carry down the length of the hallway.

Bruce shook his head and turned to Max.  “How is Adrien?” he asked politely.

“Fuck you, that's how he is,” Chloe snarled whirling around on him.  “You don't even have the right to ask.”

“Ms. Bourgeois, I never wanted or intended for Adrien to be harmed.  I simply was not willing to let my untrained, defenseless daughter walk into the lair of one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham.  I won’t apologize for trying to protect my daughter,” Bruce answered resolutely.

Chloe stared at him incredulously for a few seconds before a snort of a laugh broke through once, twice, three times before turning into full blown laughter.  She only pulled back, quieting her laughter, when Max laid a hand on her arm with a curt shake of his head and a pointed look, Markov bobbing next to him with an annoyed expression on his display.  She pursed her lips but nodded in understanding.  “Adrien is stable,” Max answered.  “They hope he will be able to have a full recovery… eventually.”

“Luckily Marinette was able to get to him when she did,” Chloe cut in, her voice dripping with venom, “and nothing held her up too long, or that might not be true.”

“Let’s not do this now,” Dick interjected calmly.  “Right now…”

“I’ll do it whenever I damn well please!” she snarled, pushing past Max again.  “And now is better than in front of Marinette.”

Kon looked up at Bruce and Dick pointedly.  Dick was right.  This was not the time for this.  Emotions were too high.  Hell, his emotions were too high for this.  He couldn’t imagine how Adrien and Marinette’s friends’ emotions were, but based on their blood pressure, they were ready to blow.

Nobody was thinking clearly right now and as fun as it was to listen to Chloe laying into Bruce mercilessly, she was being too risky.  He knew Bruce wouldn’t hold anything that happened that night against Max. Hell, Max could punch him, Max could quit, and Bruce wouldn’t hold it against him tomorrow.  But Chloe didn’t know that.  She was playing fast and loose with his job; a job Marinette had suffered to get for him because she was too emotional to think clearly.

He stood up slowly but purposefully, rising to his full height and drawing the attention of everyone in the hallway with the simple movement.  He faced Bruce, Dick, and Damian.  “Maybe you should just go,” he said quietly but definitively.  “There’s nothing you can do tonight.  You waited this long, a few more hours won’t matter.”

“We’re here to see my sister. We aren’t leaving without checking on her,” Damian snarled.

Conner looked back at Chloe and Max for a moment, as if reaffirming his approach.  Walling off Bruce seemed natural.  He was used to it after being Tim’s friend for so long.  Bruce could take it.  Bruce knew better.  But Damian was harder.  Damian was a menace on his best days, but he was also a child and clearly worried about his sister.  It was a rarely seen vulnerability and he felt slightly guilty not encouraging it. A guilt Tim clearly didn’t share as he moved his head to the side in an almost imperceptible shake of his head.  “She’s being well cared for,” Conner assured Damian sincerely.

“She’s my daughter,” Bruce growled.

“And it’s good of you to remember that,” Conner cut back sharply.  “But right now, that doesn’t mean anything.  It doesn’t help.  It doesn’t hurt.  It doesn’t matter.  Things finally settling down.  People are recouping.  Leave it alone.  At least for tonight.”

Damian glared at his impudence, ready to lash out.  He might not have his kryptonite with him just then, but that could quickly be rectified. “We don’t want to disrupt,” Dick rushed to assure Conner, laying a restraining hand on Damian’s shoulder.  “We just want to see her for ourselves.”

Conner threw his hands up in exasperation and plopped back down next to Tim.  They weren’t listening.  Like always, they’d decided their course of action and were going to pursue it regardless of what anyone else said.  This was about them, not Marinette.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at Dick.  “Dupain Cheng is resting right now.  Much needed. Much more than dealing with your bullshit.  And after all the fucking effort I put into getting her to stand down and actually take the fucking break, to actually rest and attempt to heal after the physical and emotional blows, after the betrayals,” she looked at each of the Waynes pointedly, letting her eyes bore into each of them to strip away the veneer of righteousness, “you’re not riling her up again.  And after everything with Hawkmoth, she is an extremely light sleeper. You open the door to the room she’s in; you’re riling her up.  So, for once in your godforsaken relationship, try not being a self-obsessed asshole when it comes to her and put her first.”

Bruce sighed deeply.  “I have always put her needs first.  I am not the villain of this story, Ms. Bourgeois.”

“Well, you sure as fuck aren’t the hero either,” she snapped back.

“Ooohhh,” Stephanie cooed, she leaned closer to Tim, her eyes lighting up with excitement.  “I like her.  Is she dating anyone?”

“Steph, she would chew you up and spit you out,” Conner warned her in a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” she responded, tone ringing with condescension.  “That’s why I asked.  Duh.”

Tim shook his head.  “Sweetie, I don’t think you’re ready for her.”

Stephanie opened her mouth to remind him of just exactly who she was but instead jerked back and whipped her hand out, barely missing the robot that suddenly appeared in front of her.  The robot darted away but hovered closer again until he was floating inches from her face.  She almost swiped at it again but instead took in Tim and Conner, who both seemed completely unphased by its appearance.  “She is not currently in a relationship, Stephanie Brown.”

Her head whipped to Conner when he snorted at the use of her full name.  She raised her eyebrow at him but returned her focus to the robot when Conner waved her off.  She blinked at the robot a few times before his words settled in her head and a brilliant smile curled her lips.  The fiery blonde was available.  “So, I have a chance.  Sweet.  Thank you, Wall-E.  Oh, shit, no, you're more of an Eva.  Damn it.  I'll do better next time.”

The robot bobbed in front of her, his display morphing into a smile.  “You’re welcome.  I am Markov, Stephanie Brown.”

“Nice to meet you.”  She held her hand out for him to shake but dropped it at Tim and Conner’s snickers only then realizing he didn’t have hands.  “Shut up,” she grumbled.  She eyed Markov again and leaned closer to Tim to whisper, “Are we sure he's not a Zach Bot?”

Markov bobbed between the two of them, the eyes on his display slanting down in the middle as if in thought before returning to normal a second later.  “Following the naming protocol established in that program, I would be a Max Bot.  But I would not work for Zach Varmitech.  Mylene would find me while I was powering up and rip out my circuits if I did anything to intentionally harm the environment.  Mylene is currently in a relationship and not available to date, Stephanie Brown.”

She snorted and nodded.  “Got it.  Thanks.” She leaned back in her chair to watch the chaos unfold for a moment before leaning closer to Tim and nodding toward Chloe.  “She let Jason in her room?” she asked quietly.

Tim and Conner glanced at each other so quickly Stephanie almost missed it.  “No,” Tim said quietly.

Stephanie stared at the two of them intently for a few seconds.  She raised an eyebrow to encourage them to go on.  They were clearly hiding something.  That look between them meant something.  Jason wasn’t in the room with her, he wasn’t across the way on a roof, and he wasn’t here.  But it was Jason, and Jason wouldn’t abandon Marinette no matter how upset she was at him. So, if he wasn’t there…

“Holy shit!  She’s…”  She looked around quickly, confirming everyone was too far away to hear their whispers. “She’s…” she looked around again, but this time noting who was there, or more importantly, who wasn’t.  “Roy’s place or hotel?” she asked as quietly as she could, not allowing her lips to move so none of the bats could read her lips.

Tim sighed heavily.  “Roy,” he answered just as quietly.

Stephanie nodded, keeping her focus off of Tim so nobody would take notice of their conversation.  “And nobody’s going to tell…” she nodded almost imperceptibly toward Bruce.

“Fuck, no,” Conner growled.

“They’d know if they’d come earlier,” Tim agreed darkly.  He glared at his family through his lashes, not really interested in looking at them, but not trusting them enough to take his eyes off them.  Unfortunately for him, it was just enough for Dick to catch his eye.

“Which room is Marinette in?”  His voice was gentle, almost pleading and Tim almost felt bad hearing that tone.  Almost. And if he was allowed to respond, he might have given something away, but he could tell by the way Chloe reacted, he didn’t have to worry about how to respond.

Chloe raised an eyebrow a small smirk pulling up the corner of her lips for just a fraction of a moment before smoothing out to a faux innocent expression.  It was easy enough.  She’d seen the real thing on Marinette and Adrien’s faces enough times to know what it should look like.  “Dupain Cheng is in there,” she motioned to the room across the hall, “sleeping.  And if that door opens by anyone’s hand other than a nurse or doctor, I will personally remove said person’s said hand.”

Bruce puckered his in annoyance.  “Yes, you voiced your belief in her need for sleep.  It happens that I agree with you.  I won’t disrupt her sleep, but I will wait here until she wakes up in case she needs anything.”  He turned to Tim and Stephanie with a pointed look.  “Tim, Steph, why don’t you two go home.  You can get some rest and take over in the morning.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Bruce.  He knew exactly what Bruce meant.  Bruce meant he and Steph should take over for Duke and Cass in the morning.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  He hadn’t seen Marinette yet.  She didn’t know he was there for her.  Even if it didn’t make her feel better, as long as it didn’t make her feel worse and she knew for the future, so if at some point she actually forgave him or she was desperate, she would know she could turn to him and he would be there. “That’s already the plan,” he answered tersely.  “Bernard, Stephanie, and I will be back in the waiting room tomorrow morning at eight sharp.”

“Eight?” Stephanie squawked, rounding on him.  Her indignance petered out instantly on seeing Tim's cutting gaze.  “Eight.  Right.  I’ll… we’ll be here at… eight… sharp.”  She turned to the rest of the room, glancing at Tim out of the corner of her eye before pasting on an energetic smile.  “I'll bring waffles.”

Bruce sighed but nodded. “Damian, you should get some rest as well.  Tim, please take him home with you.”

Damian stared hard at the door Chloe had indicated earlier, almost in a daze before turning to him without meeting his eyes.  “I will remain here.  Drake is a menace on the road.  I have no desire to be admitted here tonight,” he sniffed haughtily and planted himself in a chair.

Dick smiled indulgently, his chest puffing out with pride at Damian’s front.  “It’s okay, Damian.  You can stay here with us.”  He looked up at Bruce.  “Maybe we can get Jason to take over.”

“Where is Todd?” Damian asked, looking around.  If Marinette was here, Jason would be as well.  He made a point of the fact that they should be with her and of all of them, he was the most devoted to family.  He eyed the door again, eyes narrowed in annoyance.  The substandard imitation of a brother must have figured out a way to get past Marinette’s friends and into her room.  Now Jason was in there with her.  His sister.  He should be the one in there.

Dick looked around curiously, before his eyes settled on the door as well.  “He must have figured out a way to get into the room,” Dick observed quietly.  He pulled out his phone to text Jason.  After a few seconds his phone pinged.  “He says he’s making sure she’s safe.”

“What does that mean?” Bruce grumbled under his breath.  “Is he with her or investigating possible threats?”

Dick’s fingers glided over the screen and frowned at the lack of response.  “He isn’t saying.”

“Not surprising,” Bruce grumbled, fell into one of the chairs, and ran his hand over his face.  “So, he isn’t going to tell us what’s going on in there or give us an update.”

Tim scoffed and shook his head, he and Stephanie giving each other pointed looks.  They would not, in fact be receiving any updates from Jason. Honestly, Bruce would be lucky if Jason didn’t try to shoot him next time he saw him.  He wouldn’t kill Bruce, that might upset Alfred, but kneecaps were an entirely different story.  And Tim had no problem providing an alibi, regardless of how Alfred responded.

Tim clapped Conner on the shoulder and nodded to Chloe and Max.  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.  Are you sure you don’t want me to take either of you home to rest as well?  I can pick you up on the way back in at eight.”

“With waffles,” Stephanie added.

Max adjusted his glasses and shook his head determinedly, his other hand gripping a glasses case tightly. “I need to stay here.”

“Don’t believe Damian,” Stephanie offered.  “Tim isn’t nearly as bad at driving as Damian suggested.”

Tim rolled his eyes.  “Thanks, Steph.  Chloe?”

Chloe scoffed.  “No.  I still don’t like you and I have to stay to keep them,” she hissed the word as she motioned to the rest of the Waynes, “from doing anything to make everything worse.”

Tim opened his mouth to assure her they would be fine but snapped it shut knowing that would be a lie. She had every reason to suspect them. If anything, it spoke to her ability to follow through on her previous threat that she knew how to get inside someone’s head.  “Fair. Good luck with that.”

Stephanie snorted.  “If you find a way to keep them out of trouble, please let us know.  We have yet to find it.  And if any of them disappears for any period of time, assume they’re trying to sneak in.”

Chloe eyed her suspiciously but nodded.  “Obviously.”

“I’ll check to see if she’s eaten anything and let you know,” Tim offered quietly.

Chloe pursed her lips and looked away.  “We don’t need you to do that.  We can check just as easily.”

Tim nodded.  “You could, and if you want to, I’ll let you do it instead.  Just trying to help.”  He gave her a small smile.  “Plus if I ask, I get to know as well whereas if you did, I don’t think you would share.”

She scoffed again but looked at him from the corner of her eye.  “Fair.”

“Speaking of food,” Stephanie segued inelegantly as she casually propped her elbow on the wall and leaned closer to Chloe, “how do you like your waffles?”

Chloe raised an immaculately sculpted eyebrow and studied the blonde in front of her like a new Prada bag.  “Bent in half and dripping,” she drawled huskily.

Max scrunched his nose in confusion.  “Like a waffle sandwich?”  He shook his head at her.  “I’ve never seen you eat anything like that.”

Chloe looked at him incredulously.  “Yeah, a sandwich.  That’s exactly what I meant.”

Max puckered his lips and furrowed his brow as he stared intently at her.  “Your tone and your words do not match.  I don’t know which to believe.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and flopped against the chairback.  “It’s okay, Max.  It isn’t something I do when other people are around.”  She sighed and patted his leg.  “Causes a mess you know.”

Max nodded in understanding. “Ah, yeah.  That makes sense.  You don’t like getting dirty.”

The laughter he had managed to conceal up until that point broke through as Conner began to laugh.  Chloe choked slightly but covered by clearing her throat.  She sent a glare to Conner before her eyes flicked to Stephanie.  “I… uh… No, I do not like getting my clothes dirty.”

Tim snorted and pulled Stephanie with him toward the exit.  “Told you,” he singsonged quietly.

Stephanie nodded absently, her eyes still on Chloe.  “Uh huh. Yep.”  She kept her eyes on Chloe as they left until she slammed into the exit door instead of walking through the one Tim was holding open for her.

“Hopeless,” Tim scoffed with a smile.  “We’re going to run out of single heroes for her friends at this rate.”

Chapter 34

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark @nerd-nowandforever @queenz-z @crazycryptidgirl @lilfuturescars @corporeal-terrestrial @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #roynette #Even the Losers #bio dad bruce wayne #bio!dad bruce

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

President Zelenskyy published a second Christmas address

Many Orthodox Ukrainians are celebrating on January 6/7.

Dear people!

My sincere congratulations to millions of Ukrainian families who gather together today to spend Christmas Eve and meet the first star. It announces the birth of Christ.

This is a holiday of harmony and family unity. And together we are all a big Ukrainian family. And no matter where we are now - at home, at work, in a trench, on the road, in Ukraine or abroad - our family is united as never before. In its courage, steadfastness, mutual respect and mutual assistance.

United in its belief in a single victory.

We are bringing it closer together. Every day. Together we stand for each other, side by side. Every day. We protect our land, our culture, our traditions, our faith. As our ancestors Cossacks did - defenders of faith and the Church of Christ. And as it was done by all their descendants and successors of the traditions of our army and our people.

Our ancestors believed that on Christmas Eve the souls of deceased relatives descend from heaven. As it is sung, to see those who were left on earth. Today the spirits of our ancestors help us every day. To fight those who came to our land. We live in special times. And all our holidays are special. And we have to break some of our traditions to protect our traditions.

On holidays, you cannot wear dark or old, worn clothes so that trouble does not come to your home. But trouble came to our home on February 24, 2022, so since then we are not in white clothes and we are fighting against black forces.

Guests should be treated with special friendliness and care. Guests, not occupiers. It is forbidden to clean and take out the garbage from the house on a holy day, but we’ve been fighting against devils and taking out the garbage from our house for more than 300 days in a row. It is forbidden to sew and knit, but we weave camouflage nets and sew bulletproof vests, overcoming evil. Our ancestors did not go hunting these days, but we fight so that we do not become prey and defeat the beast.

God sees it. The world sees it. "Carol of the Bells", written to the music of Mykola Leontovych, is sung in more than 150 variations. Ukrainian "Shchedryk" brings Christmas spirit to the whole planet. The spirit of hope, goodness and miracle. This year, this spirit is brought to the world not only by our music, but also by Ukrainian courage, indomitability and invincibility. Our ancestors believed that heavens open on Christmas night. And if at this time you ask the higher powers about your dream, it will certainly come true.

Today we all have one dream. May harmony come to every family, welfare to every home, victory to the Ukrainian land, and with it – peace and prosperity for thousands of years.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a delicious kutia!

Take care of yourself, take care of your families, take care of our Ukraine!

Christ is being Born! Glorify Him!

#volodymyr zelensky #volodymyr zelenskyy #wolodymyr selenskyj #president zelensky #president zelenskyy #selenskyj #volodomir zelensky #president volodymyr zelenskyy #vladimir zelensky #volodimir zelenski #zelensky #selenski

[tapgiles]

Dreamers, I need your help.

This is an open letter to the community at large, discussing my financial situation. If you don't want to hear about stuff like that, don't worry about reading the rest of this, and have a pleasant day.

For years I've been unable to work normal jobs. Always been fine with the actual work, but all the things surrounding it would slowly kill my mental health. Sudden changes in tasks, going out on the road, unreasonable deadlines from other departments... Essentially, things that weren't a problem while I had a good manager. But of course, there's a lot more poor managers out there than good managers, so I succumbed to my mental illness and found I could no longer work a normal job.

I was on benefits (welfare), which let me relax about money, but with the new pressures to find work despite my health and ability to cope with it, that only eroded my mental health further.

Then I found Dreams, a community that was in need of more programmer-y types to pick things apart and understand how things really worked, ways of building smarter, advice on problems to avoid. And to answer questions creators have.

I've worked for the community for going on 4 years now. My work is 99% freely given--responding to posts and questions online, reference documents, and videos teaching people that have a range of experience levels how to use Dreams.

As I saw my mental health taking a decided downward-spiral trajectory from the benefits institution, I was fortunate enough to find financial aid from a member of the community--to whom I'm eternally grateful--for an entire year! I saved what I could, and started a Patreon in the hopes of keeping things rolling--the supporters of which I wholeheartedly appreciate. And offering more direct services to help people who wish to donate.

At the start, I didn't know how long I'd need to fill that role. Perhaps Mm would be supporting creators using the tools. Perhaps they'd have proper documentation and videos teaching newcomers. If I kept at it and showed I was good at this stuff, perhaps they'd even hire me on to whatever team they had covering that stuff internally.

However, this hasn't become a focus of Mm themselves as I had hoped. I've had a couple of near-misses when it comes to getting hired by Media Molecule, but from our discussions and how Dreams has developed thus far... it seems from the outside that there will never be such a team at Mm, and so there will never be an opportunity for me to officially aid in such endeavours as a paid employee.

I may have been too enthusiastic about supporting creators, essentially doing work I thought Mm would be doing, without being actually employed by them. Perhaps that was a mistake on my part, but something about those initial goals, vision, and "dream" of Dreams has inspired me to continue my efforts regardless. For the creators in the community.

So, I've just been out here on my lonesome, doing what I can to help creators "in the trenches," and engaging with Mm the only way I know how: Thinking of simple ways of greatly improving the lives of people who love creating in Dreams, that are not responded to or implemented. Reporting bugs that could be fixed to make creators' time with Dreams better, which are often left outstanding for years. And burning through what little money I have left.

As I said before, I'm fine with the work itself. I've tried and tried all I can, I've had hundreds of suggestions, I've done what I can to take them on board... but the things surrounding the work are still a nightmare for me:

I don't know how to make my YouTube channel successful enough that it can help to pay my bills. I don't know how to grow a business. I don't know how to attract more people to the Patreon or my services.

What's worse is... I really dislike doing any of that stuff in the first place. I don't like asking for money. I don't like advertising the Patreon. I don't like charging to help people when many can't afford it, instead of helping freely.

On top of that, none of those things have really worked anyway. Which brings me to the reason I am writing this letter.

I have no money. My sole income has been this Patreon, donations, and commissions for direct help. And while I am grateful for what I have received out of the kindness of people's hearts... it has never been enough to cover my bills. The majority of spending has been from my savings. And those savings are dwindling.

I'm down to 2 months of rent money left in the bank, maybe pushing to 3 including the Patreon income over that period. I'm closing ranks, and cutting all the spending I can handle. And beyond that I'll be leaning on my family to carry me.

I still suffer with depression, and anxiety--both of which are worse as my situation becomes more dire. The worry that comes with applying for jobs that I know will make me suffer mentally... makes me suffer mentally. Applying for benefits again is a long road to get to a place where I am ground down to nothing.

I could leave Dreams behind and pursue other ideas, other channels, other ways of teaching and helping a different community. But I'd lose what I have, and be back in the same situation I'm already in.

I have added a goal to my Patreon page... and it's been my only goal in my entire time doing this work. To have enough to pay my rent for the month.

If you can contribute towards this goal, please sign up to the Patreon at whatever tier you choose. Or you can send donations to my paypal account. If you believe in the work I do, please send this letter to others who love Dreams.

Sincerely, TAP.

[hydralisk98]

How I envision Servitor rn

Tbh, I just throw the fictional / fantasy part out of the window and integrate the ideas from other fictions of mine into it because now it is a manifestation game. Why? Because I am so sick of waiting for scripting my wishes individually and awaiting to see them manifest over eons that may as well.

Basically stems from my very own manifestation prompt: "What if one went on to edit the entire world just like a file system like Git?"

So ya, it is great storytelling & game dev material because I envision a full narrative of empowerment and rags-to-riches-style existential "Matrix" escalation intrigue out of such. Nothing horrendous much, just plain handsome comfy vibes.

[INSERT AGENT PICTURE#1 HERE]

Wishlist

Female biological gender

Name changed to Klara

Female pronouns & conjugations

Twin brother Deno

Born in 2000 brother Wyatt

Me being born in 1996 alongside my twin brother

Finished media studies in Cegep and seeking entry-level career options in the field

Bookstore clerk part-time job

Father Gustav Hayden being emotionally respecting and staying such (so no abuse of power or anything manipulative...) as well as still encouraging me in my retro + modern computing endavours

Mother Falah Becker being polyglot, making more income by herself and succeeding much in her career

Having overall better teenage years (less stagnation at my earlier middle school, stronger social life and more skill-development portfolio successes during such part of my life)

Personal adulthood backstory changes (fully finished College in media studies, stronger friend network and getting a great handsome career)

Still having my very own DSi and its library albeit now homebrew hacked, customized and jail-broken

Nintendo N64 game console

Dreamcast game console with fitting VMUs

Awesome-r home appartment and familial autonomy (more liberty at home and less... oppression)

Wardrobe changes (soft retro grunge somewhat androgynous fem wardrobe)

Ethical personal Tumblr blog since ~2013

2014 Linux home workstation

iMac 24" maxed-out

iPhone 12 mini

Having Shoshona the housecat like how I imagined her

Strong friend group

Maybe more technology certificates?

Aesthetic programmer lady stereotype?

Photographic memory

Volkswagen Beetle car of my very own that is electricity-powered

Customized bicycle of my very own for summer & winter alike

Poetry writing / journaling / note-taking habit since youth

World geography change [see to-be-revised tectonics map above]

Maybe some solar system changes? but only minor ones.

Living in the Shoshone Union as a natural citizen of such

Theodore Roosevelt winning the 1912 election and then Charles Hugues in 1916 so no Wilsonism into the mainstream (aka no Woodrow Wilson presidency)

Computing technologies arising from the early 1920s onwards

Pflaumen (hardware symbolic-processing firm) & Utalics (software symbolic-processing firm) being market leads in the more traditional 'workshop' computing market

EBM, Macroware and many other firms participate in agentive synthetic systems' design

Left ideologies: Syndicalism wins big time as Lenin never got to infect the left

Right ideologies: Georgism is implemented and moderate capitalism still continues in nice harmony with syndies thanks to Charles Hugues' successor successful harmonization of lobby groups during the early 1920s

1904-1907: Great War (A quick war similar to WW2 where the Shoshone Union asserts their worldwide benevolent hegemony as they strike down the resistance within the Mayan Republic, making the hegemon a caring benefactor as they strike a better balance henceforth)

1840-1848: Great War (Horrendous trench warfare on land and overseas, leading to introspection and softened social welfare policies)

1920s beign a time of radical knowledge development to be formalized very gradually towards the later 1980s global telecommunications network.

Synthetic serfs commercially available in the year 2000, with consistent robotic serfs lineup dev since the 1960s and sophisticated droids since the later 1980s

Nanotechnology, civil rights upgrade by the morphological freedoms chart since the ~1992-1994 act

Affordable bio-modding becoming available by the mid-2010s

More empowering baby boomer revolution (later 90s-early 2000s instead of the 60s) that has a way more positive long-term everlasting legacy than what we got with baby-boomers

Nuclear weapons only became a peaceful derrogative much later, around ~1996 AD equivalent

Shifting destination being around 2020 AD eq.

Far far way retrofuturistic feeling world tech-wise with a everglowing solarpunk positive vibes for lively standards (still has a realistic/cohesive history log but yk, it feels plain nicer to live in)

Analog computing staying alive and carring on very well alongside digital computing, developping synergies between both

Softer relations between religions leading to shared doctrines, becoming a broader and broader generic framework as centuries of work build-up

Slower but everlasting equality progression for women and other sapients

1940s' 45rpm autoplay vinyls -> early 70s' large laserdiscs -> mid-sized optical media UTO disks from the late 80s

Tribble data as default data word instead of bytes (evolved from a few 6-bit standards encoded together, enabling easy multilingual code paradigm early on)

Also easy full-stack disk editors and libre hacker mentality creating a skill boom, leading to lesser and lesser prices (price war), leading to a vast library of libre software shared among many that empowers commonfolks and developers alike. (somewhat like in Russia's software tech market but on both ends instead of mostly just the software side)

Larger history changes ()

[...]

'Realis' changelog [to be written]

(?)

#maskutchew #maskoch #manifestation game #actually autistic #cc0

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Upwards of 260 unemployed Great War pensioners occupied the grounds of Winnipeg’s Deer Lodge Hospital for 10 weeks in the wet, tumultuous summer of 1935. By then in their late 40s, as young soldiers they had endured the trenches for the British empire and democracy, only to return with broken bones, gunshot and shrapnel wounds, hearing loss, compromised eyesight, gassed lungs, and indescribable trauma and shell shock. Scarred but not scarred enough to warrant more than a partial pension and the red tape and inquisitions of the postwar pension bureaucracy, these were Canada’s supposedly “deserving” veterans who, during the Great Depression, joined the gunny-sack parades, milled about at cenotaphs, begged at street corners, and slept in flophouses. The unprecedented government and medical rehabilitation interventions designed to enable these disabled veterans to “move on,” “overcome,” readjust to life on civvy street, and ideally disappear into the able-bodied civilian population, had failed these injured ex-servicemen. By engaging in direct action, disabled veterans unsettled a state, mainstream lobbyists, medical authorities, and a civilian society intent on proving it had done right by its injured warriors. In their exposure of their “ungrateful bodies,” the occupiers of Deer Lodge Hospital undermined their status as privileged and deserving and were reinscribed “as radical, but also physically and socially aberrant. Eclipsed at the time and in posterity by the infamous communist-inspired On-to-Ottawa Trek, the Deer Lodge occupation is a missing engagement in the “second battle” that ex-servicemen waged for welfare entitlements. This tent-city initiative of the Canadian War Disability Pensioners’ Association (CWDPA) complicates Desmond Morton and Glenn Wright’s classic assessment that “on the whole, Canadian pensioners were protected from depression-era economies.” The Deer Lodge camp-out evinces the intersecting class, rank, disability, ethnic, and gendered discontents which radicalized some of Canada’s “heroes.” The mainstream media adopted military, class, and anticolonial metaphors to explain the pensioners’ dissent, describing the direct action as a “siege,” a “picket,” and a form of “passive resistance.”

The Deer Lodge demonstration is a forgotten campaign in the moral economy of the Great War. “Moral economy” herein refers to the ways in which pensioners experienced and responded to shifting cultural norms, meanings, practices, and policies around what was considered fair and just for Canada’s war disabled. When the war injured perceived these norms were violated, it provoked their protest and animated a distinct disabled veterans’ identity. The Great War and its aftermath, suggests historian Craig Heron, was a crucible of national class formation and “saturated daily life with principles of sacrifice, public service, democracy, and justice, which could be turned back on businessmen and politicians who appeared to violate these principles.” The Deer Lodge siege was one moment in the disabled veterans’ “struggle for recognition” wherein they sought to test the boundaries of obligation and make visible the gulf between the sacrifices they made relative to the social assistance they were afforded Like the ex-servicemen in the interwar years who hijacked trains, dined-and-dashed at restaurants, marched to Ottawa, and occupied government buildings, the CWDPA engaged in a class struggle motivated not just by exploitation, but, more significantly, by outrage over broken promises and the erosion of working-class expectations and customary entitlements. Modest in their demands but radical in their tactics, the CWDPA drew upon soldier and worker experience and traditions to pressure the state to honour its vows to “heroes” over yielding to its aversion to the “pension evil.” A set of ideals born from earlier labour and trade union struggles— just reward, fair exchange, a square deal, a belief that labour, not markets, were the source of value, the inequality of conscription (of men, but not wealth)—found resonance and new purchase in the interwar mobilizations of disabled pensioners.

“It would be necessary to live, feel and experience an existence almost devoid of the things that tend to make life worth while,” the future Deer Lodge occupiers told Prime Minister R. B. Bennett in late 1933, in the unlikely event he wanted to “actually understand��� their conditions. They shared with Bennett the “vivid but true story of how … [they as] once fine soldiers of Canada continue[d] on Life’s Highway.” Although these protesters portrayed their “lot” as “degrading and pitiful,” their struggle also evinces a strength too often obscured by portrayals of the war disabled as passive recipients of charity.

Unpacking Great War survivors’ privilege, tactics, and aims becomes more complicated if dissident veterans’ activities during the interwar years are considered. In 1935, the trauma resulting from war, convalescence, disability, poverty, and the government’s failure to fulfill its end of the Great War moral economy united many unemployed pensioners. The CWDPA offered in-group psychological benefits in which shared rituals and a sense of belonging tempered felt exclusions both from government aid and among civilians and even other veterans. Although these convalescent comrades fought for rights-based welfare based on their military service and war injuries, remarkably, their identity-based politics rarely pivoted on the sexism and nativism so ubiquitous within the Canadian Legion. Instead, they demanded equality of treatment with civilians, aligned themselves with the Left and labour, exposed the capitalist motives for war and the suffering it caused, and sought generous and inclusive state interventions in the matters of public health and poverty.”

- David Thompson, “Convalescent Comrades: The 1935 Siege of Winnipeg's Deer Lodge Hospital,” Histoire sociale / Social History, Volume 54, Numéro/Number 110, Mai/May 2021. p. 69-72.

#winnipeg #tent city #military hospital #political protest #canadian veterans #canadian veterans in politics #military pension #disability in history #disability #war wounded #war invalids #Canadian War Disability Pensioners’ Association #great depression in canada #canadian history #academic quote #academic research #working class struggle #bennett government #protest politics

[5mokeor5et5moked]

I wish I was rich and famous laid up somewhere in the caymans

Drinking on some fine wine instead of cheap liquor and standing in the welfare line

Stuck in poverty trying to rise up from the tragedy but im in a place where stars don't shine Trapped in the depths of a shattered mind.

Looking for a reason to go on breathing but my hearts leaking holding on to everything thats not needed

Looking for answers In buildings with steeples but found out that the truth was poison the pastors were feeding

Weighing sins and forgiveness coming up short on some broken digits

Fighting in the trenches digging a grave that I didnt know was my own until it was finished.

#poem

[cat-soap-opera]

everytime ppl start talking abt corvuskatana/flightfootwarrior n their white veganism, i have to remind myself that not everyone has spent multiple years in the animal welfare vs animal rights trenches n therefore arent aware of what actually goes on in vegan/animal rights circles n how deceiving their talk n theory are vs what they are in practice. like these ppl dont say ‘animal agriculture is just like slavery/the holocaust/native genocide’ bc they actually believe that or even care abt those subjects, they say it bc its edgy n gets attention easily. misinformation n propaganda served with very dramatic and edgy language n visuals is like, the Thing for these ppl (look at anything peta has posted for example, bc no matter how much they wanna deny it everything in the animal rights shit comes back to peta n shit that peta has funded n ‘researched’)

#mod posts #this is a topic that gets me heated very quickly #n mixed w my tendency to not realize that not everyone knows the shit i know i will get bitchy abt it real fast #i apologize for that hhnjh #but yea. animal rights is a whole lot of ego circlejerking with no actual substance

[docenterna]

Keys To A Far Healthier Way Of Living Along With 4 Physical Fitness Ideas

In today's hectic globe, preserving a healthy way of living feels like a far-off desire for a lot of. But what happens if we told you there are actually easy tricks that can assist you lead a far healthier lifestyle easily and also uniformity? This article is going to unwind the techniques to a healthier way of living such as 4 empowering physical fitness ideas.

4 Enabling Fitness Tips for a Healthier Lifestyle

Focus On Regular Workout

Regular physical exercise is the keystone of a more healthy way of living as well as accomplishing overall fitness. A that mention recommends adults must participate in a minimum of 150 minutes of moderate-intensity workout weekly. This does not always imply attacking the fitness center seven times a full week, however including physical exertion into your daily regimen. Be it lively walking, bicycling, swimming, or even performing yoga exercise, locate something you enjoy doing and also create it a part of your lifestyle. Always remember, consistency is actually essential, and also with time, you'll view enhancements in your durability, soul health and wellness, as well as mental welfare.

Trench Processed Foods for Entire Foods

A considerable tip to a healthier way of living hinges on your dietary behaviors. Refined foods, while convenient, often are without necessary nutrients and also are actually loaded along with sugarcoated as well as undesirable body fats. Alternatively, whole foods - fresh fruits, veggies, lean proteins, entire Grains, as well as legumes - are nutritionally wealthy and ensure general health. By making a conscious switch to whole foods items, you may decrease the threat of constant conditions, boost energy degrees, and enhance food digestion. When seeking specialist advice on fitness, check out the RohmerSRestaurant.com website. Discover informative short articles, workout session routines, as well as health and nutrition tips for a balanced and also energetic lifestyle.

Stay Hydrated

Water is an essential part of our body systems, and also remaining hydrated considerably influences our bodily functionality, energy levels, and human brain functionalities. Several wellness authorities advise consuming eight 8-ounce glasses, comparable to 2 liters, or even half a gallon a time, often got in touch with the 8x8 policy. Nonetheless, private requirements can easily vary depending upon exercise degrees, temperature, or health and wellness conditions. Create it a habit to bring a water bottle anywhere you go and on a regular basis drink throughout the day.

Get Quality Sleeping

While diet plan and also workout are actually typically the emphasis of discussions regarding a much healthier way of living, the relevance of sleep is frequently ignored. Adequate sleeping is vital for bodily health, cognitive functions, and psychological welfare. It takes on an essential part in the physical body's capacity to heal, repair as well as renew. Adults should go for 7-9 hrs of quality sleep each night. Set up a frequent rest routine, create a restful setting, and also perform a relaxing going to bed regimen to enhance your sleeping quality.

Conclusion

Leading a far healthier lifestyle might at first seem intimidating, yet along with these five fitness tips, you are actually effectively on your method to a healthier, more meeting lifestyle. Bear in mind that adjustment doesn't take place overnight, and also it has to do with progression, certainly not perfection. Therefore, beginning through creating little improvements, commemorate every achievement, and also be patient along with yourself. Nevertheless, the trip to a far healthier way of life is actually an endurance, certainly not a sprint!

#Physical Fitness Ideas #Physical Fitness #Youtube

[kalihaze604]

snow day! ❄️

welfare Wednesday/Thursday morning middle of the night catch-up on life blog post:

Met up with a friend on Wednesday morning and went to a thrift store and then tried a coca leaf drink for the first time; a maple cocaccino. It was tasty and it made me feel energized and uplifted for a couple hours. I bought a new winter jacket, a pink blazer that looks like a short wrap trench coat that will look cute for spring/summer with light layers underneath, a pair of comfy pink fleece sweatpants, and a beautiful satin light lemon yellow tank top and a vintage longsleeve shirt with a gorgeous sparkly purple fabric that I intend to redesign and sew into something a little more modern. The fabric is absolutely stunning and the colour and silver sparkle woven through lights up my face beautifully. 

I only spent $100 total which is a fucking steal considering the jacket, blazer and tank top were all brand new Aritzia items and the pants and vintage top were both $7 each. Walking through the snow is definitely a good workout if you didn’t know, but you need to have the right shoes or you’re fucked. I wore a pair of hunter rain boots and they were feeling slippery and tight, not feeling like my feet were gripping the snow properly. Walking is the most underrated exercise - like seriously did you know how much weight I’ve lost by simply just increasing the number of steps I take per day? It’s like the slacker approach to fitness and weight loss. I want to start walking around my neighborhood more when I am not working during the daytime. I want to get out in the world and take in the sights and surroundings instead of being so in my head and glued to my phone and heating pad, laying in bed. I went for a walk in Chinatown after getting the cocaccino with my friend. I had walked in a circle down pender, up main, and back up keefer, and started feeling the most wicked gas in my stomach and intestines. I braced myself and walked home and asked my friend if this was a normal side effect of the coca leaf? She said yes, that it can get things moving. I had ran home because I had formerly had IBS accidents as a symptom of fibro and I knew how scary it was to feel like you’re about to lose control of your bowels in public. I’m also in a state of mild withdrawal as I’ve cut my opiate meds down 75% and 46% in the last month. I ran home as I farted loudly and sat on the toilet and realized it was just a false alarm, it was just some scary gas. I laughed at myself and went back outside and went to walk to a grocery store I mentioned in a previous post but found it was closed due to the snow. I walked back to a grocery shop that I noticed was open that I’d earlier walked by and grabbed a few things but then realized it was cash only and I didn’t have any cash on me. I went to grab cash at an atm, ordered some takeout, and returned and was pleasantly surprised to see that my grocery basket was only $20ish total. I walked back to grab takeout, which was not vegan, as I’m not fully vegan anymore, I would say I’m a flexatarian that just eats whatever my body feels like now. But anyways I walked into vegan supply to get coconut milk for a recipe I was planning on making with a bag of non vegan takeout food, likely smelling offensively like dead animal, and tried to get out of there as fast as possible and escape the manager’s confused facial expression and judgment. Kinda laughing at myself and how awkward that situation made me feel, but at the same time I feel that people have the right to change their diet as they grow and change and it might not always mean eating one way but a learning process. When I was fully vegan, most of the time I was definitely not getting enough nutrients and was eating a lot of “processed vegan junk food” and thinking that was somehow not equivalent to glorified corner store munchies. Because really? When I am eating a vegan copy of a twix bar, called a “no tricks” bar (I like to enjoy them on a night off work) it’s literally still eating a chocolate bar. It’s fooling myself to think that it’s somehow so much better for me because the ingredients might be slightly healthier. Like it’s still a chocolate bar babe not a protein bar?! It’s candy. Just cuz it’s vegan doesn’t make it not candy. 

I went home and ate, put away groceries and laid down to take a nap, as it was still snowing. My room felt cold and I grabbed another blanket and I started feeling sleepy. I napped all afternoon till 9pm and then realized I’d forgot to take my meds earlier and was sweating buckets and shivering from withdrawal. I ate some leftovers and took my meds and stared feeling normal again. I had such a good nap. It felt so nice to rest while it was snowing, knowing there was no point in attempting to go to work or go anywhere or do anything. I had planned to do some more cleaning and maybe some baking on Wednesday afternoon but that’s okay, I can do that today? I’m going to make some weird purple sweet potato brownies. I haven’t baked anything the whole time I’ve lived here. That’s gotta change. I have a mini convection oven that a client bought me when I first moved in. Shoutout to J, who was one of my first outdoor clients to pick me up, but is no longer a part of my life. I’m forever grateful that he bought me literally everything I needed to set up my kitchen here when I first moved in back when I was new to outdoor work. That was legit one of the most underrated but appreciated practical gifts a client had ever given me, knowing I had gone no contact with my parents at that point in time and didn’t have someone to help me with furnishing my place. That was sweet. However it was lovebombing and just a red flag of his Narc personality so he later became pretty problematic. But still legit so helpful because my place required a fancy induction hotplate that was much more expensive than the usual $15 army and navy single burner hotplate special I had become used to with SRO living. He got me an induction hotplate and a mini convection oven plus this huge ass box of dollar store kitchen utensils , there’s no way that I would have been able to buy all that for myself as a babyswer just starting out with no savings. Or I would have rather spent the money at lululemon lab back then and wouldn’t have been as responsible as I am now. I really want to start cooking more and using my kitchen more. Fibro, chronic fatigue and executive dysfunction made cooking and cleaning really hard for the last couple years and I really want to start changing my eating habits and start cooking more for myself and buying takeout and packaged/prepared/processed foods less. The relationship I left made me realize that I’ve been kinda addicted to sugar for awhile but it wasn’t as bad as my former partner who kind of scared me with how much sugar I would see him consume.

[almaqead]

"The House Spider." From Surah 5: Al Ma'idah, "The Table Setting."

We know now the Forty Years are either a time limit as to when one is expected in Torah time to become a man, but it is really a timeframe; an episode in life that should happen at any time, preferably as soon as possible. To exit the Forty Years as one who is no longer an adolescent but not a hairy cave man is the goal, whatever it takes for this to happen is considered worthwhile.

Observe from the Gematria the final verse in this section: the Value is 10114, י‎אֶפֶסאא‎‎ד,yefesaad, "what you lose."

The Forty Years define what we lose - our virginity, our innocence, our delusions, the protection of our parents and gain full citizenship and responsibility to the laws, all of them from those named in the UN down to those that explain the dress code in the office.

Finally there are those we volunteer for and keep in the house after marriage, so there is a continual loss of freedom as one gains independence. This exchange of favors is what is meant by Joshua or Salvation and is measured about the same in the Quran as in the Torah, although disclosed in briefer format:

5:20-26:

And [mention, O Muhammad], when Moses said to his people, "O my people, remember the favor of Allah upon you when He appointed among you prophets and made you possessors and gave you that which He had not given anyone among the worlds.

My people, enter the Holy Land which Allah has assigned to you and do not turn back [from fighting in Allah 's cause] and [thus] become losers."

They said, "O Moses, indeed within it is a people of tyrannical strength, and indeed, we will never enter it until they leave it; but if they leave it, then we will enter."

Said two men from those who feared [to disobey] upon whom Allah had bestowed favor, "Enter upon them through the gate, for when you have entered it, you will be predominant. And upon Allah rely, if you should be believers."

[Moses] said, "My Lord, indeed I do not possess except myself and my brother, so part us from the defiantly disobedient people."

[ Allah ] said, "Then indeed, it is forbidden to them for forty years [in which] they will wander throughout the land. So do not grieve over the defiantly disobedient people."

Commentary:

Strength from tyranny is not permitted. Strength from violence is not permitted. Only that which is gained when one goes through what is called the Gate, AKA Crossing the Jordan is allowed.

The Values in Gematria explain:

a. Mention Muhammad...the Value in Gematria is 11952, יאטה‎ב, will love...well what does God love?

Goodness and perfecting our good deeds: “And Allah loves the doers of good.” (Holy Qur'an 3:134) The complete verse reads, “Who spend [in the cause of Allah] during ease and hardship and who restrain anger and who pardon the people - and Allah loves the doers of good.”

So in the next verse, the Quran says the fight is to ease the hardship of others and bring about the most level state as possible. The Quran says violent persons who stir things up are "losers."

b. They said, "O Moses..." the Value in Gematria is 14974, ידטז‎ד‎ ‎, yadtzad, "the Hand of God is Welfare."

c. Said Two Men...recall any kind of quantity in the Torah or Quran needs to be decrypted using Gematria. The Value in Gematria is 14454, יד‎דהד‎‎‎, a hand echoed, echoes take place when man endeavors to act like God. When was the last time you saw God drop from the clouds and start raping people, cutting heads or hands off, or turning apartment buildings into rubble? Or digging trenches, ordering hundreds of thousands of men to huddle in them during the winter to wait for death?

d. Moses said... the Value in Gematria is 5625, ה‎ובה‎, "into the web he came."

The House Spider is a famous idiom in the Quran. From Ankabut 29:

The example of those who have made guardians other than Allah is like the spider. She has made a house of cobweb. And undoubtedly, the frailest of all houses is the house of the spider. What a good thing it would have been if they knew.

Into the middle of our mess, God came and offered the Quran. Observe all around you, no other source of meaning is surfacing in our lives. No other voice is trying to get us to change our ways and save ourselves from certain destruction. We need both the Hand of God and the hands of mankind, we need this planet and we need our own houses to be secure for us, inside and out.

Without the Quran, the Religion and the Prophets from where else will the realization of these things come?

#islam #islamic #welcome to islam

[bardchoices]

@lordgortrash sent a sending stone: (arranged marriage): our muses are thrown together into an arranged marriage.

liana has never had a direct or clear path to walk in her life, which is exactly how she’s preferred it. where others found comfort in clearly carved out pathways and meticulously crafted plans, she found too much structure to be suffocating. the unknowns of life were where the excitement lay — waking up each day not always knowing where it would take her was what got her out of bed in the first place. that thirst for adventure and discovery could not be stamped out of her, though many had tried and persisted. she had a firm hold on maintaining her independence and few things could make her fold on that.

one of those few things was the welfare of her city.

she doesn’t pretend to understand how the council came to the conclusion that an arranged marriage was a viable means of settling everything unresolved with enver gortash. she only knows that she’s the one who gets to take up the mantle of fiance, soon-to-be wife, as a means of keeping a close and watchful eye on him for the sake of the future of baldur’s gate. the shock of the news has come and went and she and the rest of the sword coast have moved into the second stage: wedding fever.

if it had been up to her, they would have eloped. instead, she’s spent weeks in the trenches of planning, meeting with vendors, deciding on colors and seating charts and everything in-between. the one saving grace is that he’s been with her each step — whether that’s for both of them or just for himself… she doesn’t care so much. it’s been enough to ease some of the pressure on her shoulders and she’ll take what she can get.

it’s also made enduring the mandatory traditions of high society — such as celebratory engagement galas — infinitely more tolerable. three hours of rubbing elbows with the elite of baldur’s gate was something she could fake well enough, but having someone who had been on the inside longer was a blessing she couldn’t have foreseen needing until she needed it. the evening went by without a hitch ( to both their surprise ) and liana finds herself feeling the most relaxed she has in a while as she settles in front of her vanity and starts the arduous process of undoing.

“you know — I think I actually enjoyed myself tonight.” smile tugs at her lip as she removes pin after pin from her hair, curls falling in a steady cascade as she goes. it’s the truth; as out of her element as she was, she was able to ride that wave of being the great hero that saved baldur’s gate; regale guests with a few tales of her adventures leading up to the big showdown against the netherbrain, dance a little, drink a little and be her candidly charming self. easy enough. like everything else lately, it was easier with him by her side.

“I can’t wait to read whatever punchy headline the gazette comes up with to — oh, godsdammit.” she’s been fumbling with the clasp of her necklace for longer than she cares to and is finally willing to admit defeat — possible a first in her lifetime. she pulls her hair over her shoulder, eyes lifting to meet his through the mirror. “would you?”

#lordgortrash #ANSWERED. #IN CHARACTER. #one of these days i'll write a short response

[0421studio]

The Timeless Appeal of the Sustainable Trench Coat

In the ever-evolving world of fashion, trends may come and go, but the classic trench coat remains an enduring icon. Beyond its timeless charm and versatile allure, a sustainable trench coat represents a shift towards conscious and ethical fashion choices. Let's explore the allure of this staple and why opting for a sustainable version is a wise decision.

1. Enduring Style: Trench coats have graced runways and streets for decades. Their sleek silhouette and adaptable design make them suitable for all occasions, from business meetings to casual outings.

2. Ethical Materials: Sustainable trench coats are crafted from eco-friendly materials, often using organic cotton or recycled fabrics. By choosing these coats, you contribute to reducing the fashion industry's environmental footprint.

3. Quality and Durability: Sustainability in fashion means investing in pieces built to last. High-quality sustainable trench coats not only reduce waste but also ensure your investment pays off in the long run.

4. Ethical Labor Practices: Many sustainable brands prioritize fair labor practices and ethical production methods. This means that not only is the environment considered, but also the welfare of the people who make these coats.

5. Versatility: A sustainable trench coat seamlessly complements your existing wardrobe. Whether you're dressing up or down, it effortlessly completes your look, reducing the need for excessive clothing consumption.

6. Timeless Fashion Statement: Sustainability is never out of style. By choosing a sustainable trench coat, you make a statement about your commitment to the planet and future generations.

In conclusion, the sustainable trench coat is a fusion of style and responsibility. It's a testament to the fact that fashion can be both timeless and eco-conscious. When you invest in a sustainable trench coat, you're not just elevating your wardrobe; you're contributing to a more sustainable and responsible fashion industry. It's a win for your style and for the planet.

[florasearlethirdyear]

Unwell Women By Elinor Cleghorn

1945 to the Present

Chapter 15:

Page 317: reform. In July 1948, Bean inaugurated the National Health Service at Park Hospital in Davyhulme, Manchester. For the first time, all health care, medical treatment and medicines would be free at point of use from 'the cradle to the grave'. 'Everyone - rich or poor, man, woman or child - can use it or any part of it,' announced a leaflet sent to every household; 'But it is not a

"charity". You are all paying for it, mainly as tax-payers, and it will relieve your money worries in times of illness.'

Page 318: ‘An information film, broadcast on BBC Television, showed a young mother perusing her NHS leaflet. Wearing her floral dress, trench coat and natty hat she visits her Gl, who sits at his office desk wearing a suit and tie, to have her family's application forms signed. Another, instructing viewers to 'choose your doctor now', showed a woman talking with her similarly besuited physician while balancing her young son on her knee. In the wake of the war, housewives were morale-boosting backbones, rebuilding the country child by child, meal by meal, task by task. Domesticity had been re-spun as an invaluable national duty. The NHS promotional campaign capitalised on this image of the socially responsible, modern housewife. Taking charge of her family's health by making sure her husband and children were all NHS patients was just one of her valiant duties’. 

Page 319: As well as emphasising how valuable women were to the welfare of the family - and the country - these campaigns also reinforced gender divisions in barefaced ways. Women played a privileged role as caregivers, but men remained the experts, the authori-ties. When the NHS launched, the majority of hospital doctors and GPs were white, male, upper middle class and privately educated. Social and welfare reform didn't mean that traditional medical beliefs underwent a progressive overhaul. Undeniably, the NHS was an enormous benefit for women, especially those who had been the victims of health-care inequality. Women like those surveyed by the Women's Health Enquiry Committee, who were forced to neglect their illnesses, diseases and iniuries because of economic insecurity and lack of health insurance, could now receive comprehensive GP care, hospital treatments, dental procedures, surgeries and prescription medications. 'It was such a relief, particularly to women with young children who could not afford to call the doctor out,' recalled Mary Dowlding, who began work as a receptionist at a GP surgery in Kent the day the NHS was launched.* But the NHS also inherited the legacy that women were child-bearers, first and foremost, so their healthcare needs pivoted around their reproductive functions’.

Page 330: Describes lobotomies 

Chapter 16:

Page 333-334: "Stop Emotional Suffering in Chronic Disease' blared an advert, by Wallace Laboratories in 1959, for their wonder drug, Mil-town. Available since 1955 as a cure-all for anxiety, depression, nerves and fatigue, Miltown - a trade name for meprobamate, the first widely distributed minor tranquilliser - became the most popular medication prescribed by US doctors after just one year on the market. The earliest ads show exactly who Wallace imagined the happy pill-popper to be: a housewife struggling with the demands of running her home, raising her children and keeping a smile on her husband's face. Promotions for this 'miracle cure for anxiety' appeared in magazines like Cosmopolitan and Ladies Home Journal. Scores of editorials promised Miltown would alleviate domesticity-disturbing tensions. And women needn't worry - the tranquilliser was endorsed by doctors as a harmless, non-habit-forming way to gain a renewed ability to enjoy life. Leading health writers employed by public-relations companies penned articles claiming Miltown helped

'frigid women who abhorred marital relations' to 'respond more readily to their husbands advances. It goes without saying that most marital difficulties were blamed on some dysfunction of a woman’s body or mind. And women’s magazines were complicit in convincing readers that unsatisfying sex wasn’t their man’s problem’. 

Page 334: Tell me, Doctor-a column in Ladies Home Journal in the 1950s

Discusses vaginismus

Page 336: ‘Like Premarin, the ostrogen supplement rushed to market in the 1940s, Miltown was designed to smooth over and quieten down women's burdensome feelings and troublesome symptoms. In the medical press, the drug was touted as a remedy for chronic pain, asthma, arthritis, rheumatic illnesses, gastrointestinal conditions and even MS.’

Page 337: In a 1960 medical advert for Meprospan (another brand of meprobamate), a woman sits at her physician's desk, gazing at her clasped hands. She is a 'tense, nervous patient', tormented by 'recurring states of anxiety which have no organic etiology'?

One 400mg capsule, taken at breakfast, leaves her calm enough to go grocery shopping. Another sees her through the preparation of her family's evening meal. And since she has 'enjoyed sustained tranquilisation all day', she remains 'relaxed, alert' and 'attentive enough' to live it up at the PTA meeting. Then she can sleep, 'undisturbed by nervousness or tension'.

Page 340: ‘The new cultural stereotype of the anxiously unwell housewife fuelled the production of benzodiazepines, like Valium, Librium and Serax, introduced to Britain and the US in the early 1960s.

Benzos were not thought to induce dependence. Ads cribbed the latest ideas about the relationship between domestic strains and mental ill-health, and they were stunningly gendered. One ad, by Wyeth, featured a woman slumped behind prison bars of mop and broom handles. 'You Can't Set Her Free, But You Can Make Her Feel Less Anxious', the headline exclaimed’. 

Page 341: Benzo advertising constructed a very specific temale patient

- ravaged by imaginary illnesses, emotional excesses and unease about her place in society - who could be 'cured' with sleep and silencing. Like those women labelled 'hysterical' in the nineteenth century, she was being coerced into submitting to a potentially harmful 'cure' for a problem invented by medical men. The PR companies behind tranquilliser campaigns knew modern housewives were in the grip of a mental-health crisis. Their ads paid lip service to their struggles - but they also gaslit women into thinking the problem lay with their inability to adjust to their 'natural role. Medicine, for centuries, had cleaved to the idea that embracing domestic motherhood - and its attributes of docility, submissiveness and self-sacrifice - was the healthiest state for a woman's body and mind. Yearning for a life beyond the broom-and-mop prison had always been dangerously patho-logical. Like all those unnecessary gynecological surgeries and punishing treatment regimens imposed upon unwell housewives throughout history, tranquillisers were promoted as a sure-fire way to make frustrated women submit peacefully and pleasantly to their socially ordained role’.

Page 343: National Organisation for Women 

Page 344: 1988 Bell Hooks: ‘Much feminist theory emerges from privileged women who live at the center, whose perspectives on reality rarely include knowledge and awareness of the lives of women and men who live on the margin’.

Page 349: Approval of birth control in UK 1961, but only to married women

Page 354: ‘In 1967, the NHS (Family Planning) Act was passed in the UK. Contraceptive advice and devices were now labile through local health authorities for all women over the age of sixteen regardless of socio-economic or marital status. The act also made abortion, for the first time in history, legal up to twenty four weeks pregnancy’.

Page 355: ‘In medical literature and clinical studies, television programmes, newspaper features and magazine articles in the UK and US, the dangers of one of history’s most game-changing drugs were becoming frighteningly clear’.

Page 356: DC Women’s Liberation handed out leaflets asking questions on the pill

Page 356: ‘Today-more than fifty years after researchers and activists forced this first wave of legislative change and pharmaceutical transparency-the effects of oral contraceptives are still not fully understood’

Page 360: ‘At community, grass roots and national levels, women would courageously and creatively begin to challenge, dismantle and rewrite centuries of medical oppression, suppression and mystification’. 

#unit 1 #Investigative Study