#Need to do some executive function practice.....

[evolutionsvoid]

Elementals can be created both naturally and artificially, as long as enough of a certain material or element is near and the right magical spark is ignited. Of course, this is simplifying it greatly, as the process takes quite a lot of resources and is pretty complex. But the theory behind it would suggest that the amount of elementals one could create is practically bottomless, especially if you are a human. With their ability to practically wield every kind of magic, then anything should be possible. However, you have probably already seen that this idea isn't really executed all that often. Humans have created and wielded elementals, but the variety of them is pretty low. That is because these familiars need to have some kind of use, a function to explain why someone would go through all the effort. Thus, mages and such tend to lean on the tried and true type, picking the safest bets to ensure they get their money's worth out of this creation. Other elements or materials are too hard to get, or are too chaotic to work with. Others would create something with no obvious use, which doesn't really help anyone. And in some cases, a type of elemental may not be made because few people even know that kind exists. But in the case of the Clonal Elemental, the ignorant ones are non-dryads, who pretty much never see such a rare creation.

Clonal Elementals are a dryad creation, and a rather bizarre one to outsiders. They appear to be a floating ball of plant and fungi parts, a cobbled entity whose form seems pretty useless. Indeed, their birth comes from the energizing of roots and mycelium, weaving them together into a singular being. When the process is done, these materials are given life and the Clonal Elemental is complete. It appears some form of magic allows them to float upon the air despite their weight, though they can also be seen being carted around by dryad workers. Their hanging tendrils sway in the breeze, and many gnarled roots and growths twitch and stretch. They are an interesting sight for sure, but eventually one has to ask: what do they do? The answer to that question is why you will never see a human or non-dryad ever make a Clonal Elemental, because their purpose is to simply exist.

It may seem absolutely useless when you hear it, the creation of a being that simply hangs around doing nothing. Can they cast magic? No. Can they do chores? No. Can they communicate in any way? Uh, kinda, but not really. This leads to the frustrating wondering on what the point of them even is then, as they seem utterly useless. This is funny, because it shows the lack of understanding one has for dryad culture with this question. Because while all other races see them as pointless, dryads see Clonal Elementals as precious and incredibly crucial. Why that is ties into what happens when dryads die, and the afterlife they believe in.

A quick refresher of dryad funerary services: when a dryad passes away, a seed is planted in their body and they are returned to the earth. The corpse is buried, and the seed within them will transfer their soul into the next stage of existence. The tree or plant that sprouts from their grave is said to not only contain their soul, but is believed to be that very dryad given a new form. They live on within this plant, and when their roots connect to the rest of the intricate network of the forest, they are linked up with all the dryads who have passed on. The grand system buried beneath our feet is where their souls go, generations of dryads contained within plant, root and fungus. This is how they commune with those gone, and gain wisdom from past souls. And it is this belief that causes dryads to be fiercely protective of their sacred groves and living homes, as it is more than just a tree. If their forest were to be burned and the root system destroyed, than that link to their ancestors would be forever lost. It is no doubt a tragic thing, but the sad fact is that it is a very real possibility in this world.

Dryads and the places they find sacred have been and will be under attack in one way or another. Be natural disasters, plague or invaders, they are aware the time may come when their sacred root system is threatened. Obviously, they will fight to the death to ensure its survival, but sometimes they must accept the fact that victory is not possible. A raging forest fire may not be able to be stopped before it consumes all, an invading force may be too strong to push back. When this happens, dryadkind knows it is best to salvage what they can, lest all is lost. Obviously, one cannot uproot a tree and carry it to safety. It isn't possible to rip out an extensive network of roots and mycelium for transplanting. Doing so would kill it, and thus erase their past. But with the use of magic, a vital chunk of this may be given life and an easier to move form.

Clonal Elementals are essentially living containers, given the vital task of moving dryad networks to safer places. They are not big enough to carry the entire biomass, but one must remember how cuttings work. Sometimes, a single piece is enough to save and regrow an entire species, and that is how the Clonal Elemental works. By transplanting this piece of the network elsewhere, all that was once contained within the previous system is saved. Their ancestors can live on, their wealth of knowledge and comfort preserved for future generations. So even if their forest homes burn, dryads can find peace and hope in the fact that not all was lost.

The life of a Clonal Elemental is obviously pretty short, as they are created to simply move plant matter from one location to the next. Yet, these existences are vital and fiercely guarded. It should be no wonder why these elementals are rarely seen by non-dryads, and why any dryad would throw themselves into danger to keep them safe. For when these beings are returned to the earth, the past is saved, a new home will flourish and dryads will continue to thrive despite all odds and hardships.

There are some rumors and beliefs tied to the Clonal Elementals that wonder if they are capable of more. Obviously, the task they do now is vital, but think of all that is contained within them. A bottomless well of dryad souls, generations of knowledge and essence. And this being is the ward to all of this. Then look to see how life blooms after they have been planted, like an entire forest rising in a mere fraction of the time. Thus they can create life, but does that mean they can create dryads? Can they give those passed a new shot at life? Humans, and even some dryads, have pondered this. For man, it would explain how dryads are able to reproduce so quickly, how they have spread nearly as wide as humanity. And of course, this has been brought up in whispered conversations about the infamous and mysterious Pando Village. That isolated dryad community that feels half fiction and half fact. Those strange, strange dryads, whose origins remain unknown. Some wonder if their creation is the result of a Clonal Elemental, perhaps one that went very wrong. Some think darker magic is at play, others think an insidious plot, and one very loud and angry dryad would prefer to beat all those theorists in the head with a stick.

[bmpmp3]

i keep choosing like the hardest songs possible to try to learn to make midis for vocal synth covers on. why do i keep doing this to myself. like is that reverb doubling back creating noise, vocal doubling, or a harmony. if its a harmony i'll explode on impact

[mostlysignssomeportents]

End-stage capitalism

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in BLOOMINGTON TODAY (Apr 4), and in PITTSBURGH on May 15. More tour dates here.

Karl Marx predicted that capitalism would eventually fail, torn apart by its own contradictions. He called the bourgeoisie, who epitomized these contradictions, capitalism's "grave diggers":

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

In the Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels marvel at capitalism's adaptability, its ability to reinvent itself in the face of seemingly terminal crises and emerge in a new form. For nearly two centuries, Marxists have treated capitalism as an intermediate stage between feudalism and socialism – a lengthy, but still impermanent, regime whose purpose was to produce the systems of plenty that socialism would deliver to democratic control.

But as capitalism lurched from crisis to crisis, some Marxists speculated that capitalism would give way to something even worse. In 2023, Yanis Varoufakis proposed that capitalism might end up being a transitional phase between feudalism and another kind of feudalism – technofeudalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

But Trump's disastrous policies – tariffs, suspension of the rule of law, pointless military expansionism – doesn't serve Varoufakis's technofeudalism or any other kind of feudalism. As Hamilton Nolan writes, Trump represents a rupture of the customarily unshakable class solidarity of the wealthy. Trump's policies are not good for business. Trump is going to make America much, much poorer – and since the vast majority of American wealth is held by a tiny minority of very rich people, any program that vaporizes an appreciable fraction of American wealth will make a lot of rich people a lot poorer.

Hamilton Nolan wrote about this a couple days ago, enumerating all the ways that Trump – who LARPed a TV businessman – is extremely bad for business:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/divergence-from-the-interests-of

Gutting state capacity

As Nolan writes, there are plenty on the right who don't care about the idea that public education produces the skilled workers needed to run and expand the economy, and who believe that paving half the national parks and putting a $500/day admission price on the remainder will suit them just fine. But even the most hardcore plutocrat needs a functional immigration system so they can source workers who can do the jobs Americans won't – or can't – do. You can't be a finance guy in a country with a collapsed, corrupt Treasury Department that periodically reaches into institutional bank accounts and drains them of millions in pursuit of "obscure witch-hunts":

“stupidly breaking the parts of the government that allow our financial markets to function smoothly with no apparent plan" is not “populism” any more than a bite from an alligator is a kiss

Ending the rule of law

Anyone who claims to love "free markets" loves the rule of law. The predictability of a laws-based society is a necessary precondition for capital formation, long-term investing, and the use of contracts to coordinate business within a transparent, known set of rules.

Trump's lavish corruption – his crypto companies (which someone called "a tipjar for the Oval Office"), his sale of commutations and pardons to flagrant criminals, and his purging of Democrats within the DoJ to create space for "buffoons" who run his witch hunts – all offer good reason for investors to stay the hell out of America, and for businesses to get the hell out of the country:

https://thehill.com/homenews/senate/5182515-senate-democrats-complaint-ed-martin/

The spectacle of the top executives of world's most powerful multinationals openly paying bribes to Trump, while seated at Trump's own members' club, makes an eloquent case for seeking your business opportunities in another country – practically any other country:

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/mar/05/trump-dinner-mar-a-lago

Then there's Trump's interference in the Fed, "endangering financial markets for short term political gain":

https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/trump-bid-to-control-fed-puts-us-economy-at-risk-by-kenneth-rogoff-2025-01

And finally, there's his defiance of federal court orders, and his attacks on law firms that employ lawyers who had the temerity to sue him. As Nolan writes, "This is not good for business." Sure, it's grimly satisfying to think about all those rich fools who howled because Biden had the temerity to suggest modest tax hikes and improvements to labor law now having to watch as "the world’s most sophisticated corporate legal regime [is replaced] with a system in which you must grovel at his toes in a ridiculous red hat in order to get anything done."

Military adventures

Trump is apparently going to go to war with Iran, Canada, Denmark, Mexico, and several other countries to be determined at a later date. Sure, America's military spending is higher than all the rest of the world's combined, but getting involved in several wars at once is – once again – not good for business. For one thing, he's going to kill Boeing, Lockheed, and all the other US-based arms dealers that rely on a friendly relationship with America's erstwhile allies for billions of dollars per year in business. Things are no better for the companies that do other kinds of business with the countries America is apparently on the brink of war with. This kind of "Hitlerian" program of economic growth was a failure in the previous century, and it will fail again:

Did Hitler’s wild invasions ultimate make Germany richer? No. They started a world war. And, no matter what anyone tells you, world war is not good for business.

Tariffs

Finally, there's Trump's deranged tariff plan. As David Dayen writes for The American Propsect, these aren't really tariffs at all – they're sanctions, punishments visited upon every country in the world (even uninhabited islands!) for a bunch of imaginary crimes:

https://prospect.org/economy/2025-04-03-theyre-not-tariffs-theyre-sanctions/

Trump's tariffs make no sense as an economic policy, but they are familiar to anyone who's spent time around organized crime (like, say, Trump):

https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2016/05/donald-trump-2016-mob-organized-crime-213910/

Dayen likens Trump's approach to "a mob boss moving into town and sending his thugs to every business on Main Street, roughing up the proprietors and asking for protection money so they don’t get pushed out of business." Trump's demands – such as they are – include forcing America's trading partners to do away with their privacy, food safety and antitrust laws:

https://tacd.org/wp-content/uploads/TACD-Statement-Tariffs-3-April.pdf

Even if it was worth it for other countries to dismantle their laws to enjoy continued access to US markets (it isn't), no one trusts that giving in to Trump means that he'll carry out his end of the bargain. As Brad DeLong reminds us, Trump personally negotiated the USMCA terms that Canada and Mexico have been living under since he last left office, and those are the two countries he's most pissed off at:

https://braddelong.substack.com/p/draft-mar-a-lago-discord

This isn't capitalism – it's gangsterism. It's a system that will annihilate trillions of dollars in value to put billions of dollars in the pockets of Trump and a few of his cronies – at the expense of all the other rich people.

Nolan concludes that Trump is "insane" – that his actions are irrational, disconnected from reality, impossible to understand. For Nolan, the question isn't "What is Trump trying to accomplish?" It's "how has this insane man managed to gain control of the government of the world’s richest and most powerful nation?"

He's got a hell of an answer, too:

That, my friends, is the unfortunate outcome of an economic system that has so profoundly failed to enforce economic equality, and a political system that so profoundly failed to protect its democracy from the influence of capital that it allowed itself to be totally captured by extreme lunatics backed by extreme wealth.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog: https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/04/anything-that-cant-go-on/#forever-eventually-stops

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[crooked-wasteland]

Alright, Let's Attempt Some "Good Faith" Criticism:

Part 1: Medrano is also a terrible Director

My post about The Circus was sniped with a comment that feels like Medrano herself wrote it. I'll function in the belief that it actually is what Medrano intended, and then explain why it still doesn't work in practice.

Firstly, before I even attempt to deconstruct this comment, I need to clarify that Bad Faith has nothing to do with author intent. But it seems this is how the fandom and Medrano herself misuse the term. Bad Faith is a philosophical term, not a literary one. It means to be inauthentic or dishonest, not in a compulsive manner, but intentionally.

Bad Faith IS promising to do something you know you have no intention of doing.

Bad Faith IS knowing you are doing something selfishly while pretending to be altruistic.

Bad Faith IS denying your obvious reality.

Bad Faith is NOT believing that an Author's intentions are flawed or failed to be executed.

Bad Faith is NOT reading malice into something that wasn't intended to have it.

Bad Faith is NOT "making mistakes".

Bad Faith would be extrapolating that Medrano is a rapist herself due to her love of the trope. Or claiming to think poorly of Medrano in order to rile up other people's emotions when you really don't care.

It is a Lie, not a Disagreement.

There is no truth in art, and no "right way" to interpret what you see on the screen. The way people feel about Stolas' and Blitz's dynamic will never be "Bad Faith". Because it is a wholly real and unique experience to those who have interacted with the material.

So the main disagreement is that I see Stolas as a narcissist based on his patterns of behavior. And the irony is that as Medrano has become more insistent of trying to "correct" that image, the more it actually reinforces the perception for myself and most other people. This is not bad faith, this is now miscommunication.

Additionally, Death of the Author is NOT Bad Faith. It is a literary reading of the story with the intentions of the author removed to reflect how the work the Author made is connecting to those engaging with the material.

It says so much that Medrano and her ilk believe we are lying about how her work makes us feel due to the poor quality of writing and direction. In fact, the assumption of dishonesty is itself a source of bad faith when it is used in this manner. Not because it perceives malice, but because it creates a false reality for the simple objective of not having a fair conversation.

Instead of seeing that once art is made public, everyone is allowed to have their own experience, or even acknowledging that the fact Medrano is asked so many questions to clear up her bad writing to even consider that maybe she is actively failing as a director as well. Instead we are somehow inauthentic because we don't agree with her, because she feels entitled to her work even after letting it free.

Which, if that isn't a great encapsulation of the problems between the characters of the show themselves, idk what is.

To breakdown this wall of text, this person is saying that Stolas meant "Ravish" in a way that is no longer in use.

The commenter insists that Stolas was actually referencing Blitz having previously stolen from him as children. And somehow extrapolates a bizarre fantasy of Blitz having returned a quarter of a century later to also steal Stolas, like Blitz stole all his stuff.

To be genuinely frank, the idea that this is readily accessible to any degree is demented. The term Ravish being used in this way is not a good term. This goes into bad writing, because I think we all have ideas of what certain words mean.

When I say sad, I mean a gloomy heaviness of an emotional kind. Like the grey cloud over someone's head that may start raining at any moment. It's a feeling of a depressed and subdued mood. Whereas the word distraught means frantic. High, negative energy. It's a panic-stricken sadness. Or even Depression, where the feeling of sadness may not even be tangible, but the similar oppressive heaviness inside one's soul is almost palpable. Grief-stricken is almost like a sense of fear mixed with sadness. A form of painful emotional horror that consumes the victim with a deep and pervasive sadness.

Words have built in connotations.

Ravish under the archaic use literally implies violence as a default. To Ravish something from someone implies the use of force. Meanwhile, the more current definition of Ravish still implies an almost carnal instinct. Something sudden like a viper's strike, but instead of venom it implies bliss. It is still implying something abrupt and physically stimulating.

And if you do not have a wide vocabulary, you will inappropriately misuse words by not understanding their implications. So while this may be a retconned, or even valid explanation from Medrano herself, it doesn't work on multiple levels.

In writing, it doesn't work because everyone who first saw that scene believed Stolas was implying that Blitz had come to have sex with him. Mainly because of this:

It's clear from this sequence that Stolas is viewing Blitz sexually. It contradicts the idea that Stolas had any other intentions, specifically because we see this from his perspective with the pink haze of lust and infatuation around Blitz. Add to it the unnecessarily awkward porn talk by the Hellhound guard and Stolas' blushing after the fact, we know what Stolas is feeling and thinking through nonverbal direction. And he's definitely not thinking about that giant bag of stuff Blitz stole from him.

Second, it contradicts Stolas' character. He's supposed to be intelligent. He finds Blitz's really obscure horse joke funny, but it is only funny to people who know things. We see Stolas' favorite things are books by how he is going through his library with young Blitz when they are children.

So Stolas would know the implications of a word like Ravish. It could have worked if Stolas was in some way upset over Blitz stealing from him, but he clearly is not from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Ravish would never be used for unimportant trinkets. The connotation is that it implies a struggle or having something precious taken from you against your will. And Stolas, being book smart, would know this fact. So him misusing the word in such a way also breaks his character, because it shows the book-smart guy is actually unable to learn from books.

Meanwhile, this is Blitz:

Doesn't take much rocket science to see Blitz is scared. The dynamic is on full display on how Stolas feels (he's seeing this as a porno script) and Blitz feels literally helpless. It's clear in this sequence that Blitz's is trying to gain some control over the situation only for Stolas to shut him down. And Blitz is both resigned and intimidated. He doesn't know what to expect going into this room and it's clear he doesn't think it is going to be anything good.

So when Stolas throws out that Blitz is there to "Ravish" him, you see Blitz concoct the scheme to get the book in real time.

When Blitz says "Oh, yeah...!" You can see it animated on his face how he is trying to come up with a plan to gain some ground. He sees the book, has a thoughtful look while the "Sexy music" plays (another layer of clear indication that Ravish was always intended to mean something sexual by Stolas) before leaning into the setup.

And here Stolas outrightly refutes the belief that he ever thought Blitz came to steal from him. Theft does tend to fall under "nefarious" actions, and if Stolas believed Blitz broke in to steal from him while everyone was distracted at the party, well, he wouldn't be saying this. He genuinely thinks Blitz is there for him specifically.

This line prohibits the audience from linking together the current situation with Blitz's childhood actions entirely. It signals that Stolas either doesn't care at all about Blitz being a thief, or he doesn't even realize he was stolen from to this day. So the idea that "Ravish" was in reference to that setup is soundly put to bed.

Then the two sit down and Stolas starts wanting to "reconnect", like an awkward coffee date after a one night stand. Due to the absolute strangeness of his horny fantasy, it's a good faith assumption that he wants this to be more than just some random sex, he wants a connection. Asking what Blitz does for work and getting panicked when Blitz admits to being an assassin.

Frankly, the best bit of characterization is that Stolas legitimately thinks for a second that Blitz may have been hired to kill him.

Anyway, this is going to have to be split into two parts because I only can post 10 pictures and I've already posted 7 and we still need to cover Blitz's perspective. So, let's call it here.

[mariacallous]

Cuts made by the Trump administration are threatening the function of a tiny but crucial office within the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration that maintains the US’s framework of spatial information: latitudes, longitudes, vertical measurements like elevation, and even measurements of Earth’s gravitational field.

Staff losses at the National Geodetic Survey (NGS), the oldest scientific agency in the US, could further cripple its mission and activities, including a long-awaited project to update the accuracy of these measurements, former employees and experts say. As the world turns more and more toward operations that need precise coordinate systems like the ones NGS provides, the science that underpins this office’s activities, these experts say, is becoming even more crucial.

The work of NGS, says Tim Burch, the executive director of the National Society of Professional Surveyors, “is kind of like oxygen. You don’t know you need it until it’s not there.”

“NOAA remains dedicated to providing timely information, research, and resources that serve the American public and ensure our nation’s environmental and economic resilience,” NOAA spokesperson Alison Gillespie told WIRED in an email when asked about the downsizing of NGS.

NGS was formed in 1807 by Thomas Jefferson, the son of a surveyor and cartographer. Originally called the Survey of the Coast, the organization, led by a young Swiss immigrant named Ferdinand Hassler, was tasked with mapping the coastlines of the new country. Over the next 200 years, its mission expanded to cover the practice of geodesy: the science of calculating the shape of the Earth, its orientation in space, and its gravitational field.

“Hassler understood that before you put pen to paper and make a chart or a map, if you wanted to [know how] things relate accurately one to another, especially if you’re going to do that over a large area like the United States, then you have to have a very strong mathematical foundation to put all these pieces together,” says Dave Doyle, a former chief geodetic surveyor at NGS. “That is, in a very simple way, what the science of geodesy brings to the nation.”

NGS is currently responsible for maintaining and updating what’s known as the National Spatial Reference System, a consistent system of physical coordinates used across federal and local governments, the private sector, and academia. This includes not only latitude and longitude, but also measurements of depth and height as well as calculations around Earth’s gravitational field—crucial mathematics that inform much of the basic infrastructure around us, from constructing bridges to mapping out water and electric lines. NGS also maintains and operates more than 1,700 federally owned satellite receivers across the US, which provide publicly available geospatial information.

While individual surveyors can compare heights and distances in smaller areas, it’s far more difficult to compare mountains thousands of miles from each other, or know exactly how sea level rise may be affecting different areas of the country that have vastly different coastlines. Having a coordinated frame of reference across the entire country—both latitude and longitude as well as depth and height—underpins the accurate positioning of locations across the US in relation to each other, as well as in relation to other geospatial measurement systems across the world.

The Earth is also constantly shifting: the motion of tectonic plates causes latitude and longitude coordinates to slowly move, mandating that they be updated every few decades. In some places—like the coast of Louisiana, where subsidence is causing between 25 to 35 square feet of land loss each year—these shifts manifest much quicker.

“Most people can stand on the beach and see the water and turn around and look at a dune behind them and go: ‘Oh, yeah. That’s about 5 or 6 feet above sea level,’” says Doyle. But when it comes to building things, you need to be able to accurately take measurements at scale. “You have to have some system of heights that is standardized across a large geographic body. I want consistent heights from New York to Maryland so we can build highways, so we can build utility infrastructure. You want to make sure water is always flowing in the appropriate direction.”

The US is currently working with a particularly outdated set of coordinate systems. The current measurements contained in the National Spatial Reference System—including latitude, longitude, and vertical heights, a set of reference systems called datums—were established in the 1980s, shortly after the US launched the world’s first GPS satellites. In the years since those datums were created, increasingly advanced satellite technology has enabled geodesists to more accurately measure the shape and orientation of the Earth, and to better position their measurements. As a result, each point of measurement in the US datums is now, on average, around two meters off from its actual, accurate location. In some locations, it’s even more extreme.

As anyone who has tried to go for a run with a glitchy Garmin watch knows, current GPS technology has limits in terms of on-the-ground precision. For everyday navigation, exact locations aren’t truly necessary—but for a variety of activities, from mapping floodplains to building bridges to measuring sea level rise, every centimeter becomes crucial. Ensuring hyper-accurate location is also becoming increasingly important as more and more industries are building up around automation that relies on precise spatial measurements.

“Do you want to get in an autonomous taxi that is plus or minus two and a half meters going down the road?” says Burch. “I don’t. That is part of the critical piece here: all these systems have to be this tight and this precise moving forward.”

In order to update the US’s datums to be in line with satellite data, land shifts, and accurate measurements of the Earth, staff at NGS were planning on rolling out a long-awaited modernization of the National Spatial Reference System, bringing it into the 21st century and making it easier to update moving forward. Originally scheduled to be completed in 2022, the agency posted a notice in the federal register last fall detailing its updated timeline for rolling out the new datums and associated products in 2025 and 2026.

But three former staffers who left NGS in the past month say this planned rollout may be pushed even farther behind by staff losses, thanks to employees like them who took retirements, left their jobs, or were laid off as part of federal restructuring. According to former staff, NGS was sitting at 174 employees at the start of the year, with staff looking to fill an additional 15 positions to help with rolling out the new datums and educating federal agencies and local governments on their use. Since January 20, the agency has lost nearly a quarter of its staff and has had to freeze planned hiring. (When asked about the accuracy of these numbers, Gillespie, the NOAA spokesperson, told WIRED that the agency has a “long-standing practice not to discuss personnel or internal management matters.”)

The remaining staff are in an “all hands on deck” situation with the rollout, says Brett Howe, the former geodetic services division chief at NGS, who opted to retire at the end of April. Despite a dedicated staff, Howe says that the loss of many in senior leadership with decades of experience and institutional knowledge means that the agency can’t afford to go through any more cuts.

“If we get to hire back some people, we are still going to have trouble meeting that timeline of 2025 and 2026 [for the rollout], but we’ll be able to make it work,” he says. “If there are further cuts, or we’re not able to execute our [National Spatial Reference System] modernization plan, and then we get to a year, a year and a half from now, and we lose more people—either through other layoffs or they just retire—then I think we’re in real trouble. Then I wonder how we function as an agency.”

“At this time, the ongoing NSRS modernization plans are still aligned with the dates in the Federal Register notice,” Gillespie told WIRED. “NGS will be releasing foundational data and supporting products for testing and feedback in 2025.”

The fate of NGS under the Trump administration is unclear. A NOAA budget proposal from the White House Office of Management and Budget sent to the agency in April cuts the budget for the National Ocean Service, which houses NGS, by more than half. Project 2025 does not mention NGS by name, but it does mandate moving NOAA’s surveying capabilities to other agencies.

“We don’t speculate about things that may or may not happen in the future,” Gillespie said when asked about potential upcoming changes to the agency. “NOAA will continue to deliver weather information, forecasts and warnings, and conduct research pursuant to our public safety mission.”

The sharp drop in staff numbers at NGS is the tail end of a long decline for the practice of geodesy in the US. In 2022, a group of leading geodesic experts authored a paper on what they dubbed the US’s “geodesy crisis,” detailing how other world powers have invested in training geodesists over the past three decades while the US has wound down funding and training. China has invested particularly heavily in creating more geodesists: the country graduates between 9,000 and 12,500 geodesy students per year, many of whom are then employed by the government. By contrast, around 20 students graduated with advanced degrees in geodesy from US universities over the past decade.

This, the authors argue, has contributed to China rapidly overtaking the US in geospatial technologies and disciplines of all kinds. Nowhere is this clearer than with China’s satellite navigation system, BeiDou, which has been gaining on the US’s GPS system in accuracy. In 2023, a US government advisory board on GPS stated in a memo that GPS is now “substantially inferior” to BeiDou.

Like other cuts to public science made under the Trump administration, the losses from blows to this agency could be substantial. A 2012 analysis found that every taxpayer dollar spent on NGS’s coastal mapping program returned $35 in benefits, while a 2019 report found that the NGS program that models gravitational fields would provide between $4.2 and $13.3 billion worth of benefit over 10 years. The private sector also relies heavily on public data provided by NGS. Some analyses project that the geospatial economy will grow to $1 trillion by the end of the decade. It’s even more crucial, experts say, to have an updated spatial reference system in the US, as well as institutional knowledge of the basic science of how to measure and understand our Earth.

Many industries now “want that high accuracy positioning” that comes with advanced geospatial technology, Doyle says, “yet they don’t understand the basics of the science. Now you’ve got all these people punching buttons and getting numbers, and only a tiny percentage of them really understand what the numbers mean, and how one set of numbers relates to another.”

[prismonautic]

Let’s Discuss: Energetic Cleansing

Let’s get some clarifying details out the way before we get into the material.

This article assumes that you already know + can execute the basics of energy work without the hang-ups that a beginner would get stuck on.

It’s not going to hold your hand discussing theories about energy, the astral realm, etc. Intermediate practitioners are the target audience for this passage.

Don’t know if you’re intermediate or a beginner? Here’s a difficulty benchmark for this article:

Do you know how to safely cast a functional + effective spell without having to be supervised by an elder for safety?

Are you able to direct and cast that energy with absolute confidence in your ability to do so?

If yes to both, this article is relevant to your skill level.

If no to either:

You can use this article as study material to go over with a spiritual elder.

If you’re a solitary practitioner, use this article as supplemental material for your research under your own discretion.

If you’re a complete beginner and feel like you’re going to end up with more questions than answers, continue doing more research + practice on the basics and save this for later when you feel ready.

Now that we’ve gotten those important details out the way, we’ll begin our discussion.

About cleansing

“Spiritual cleansing” is a term frequently thrown around in witchy and spiritualist spaces alike. “Energetic cleansing” is commonly used interchangeably with “spiritual cleansing.”

The general definition of cleansing is removing/clearing any energy that’s considered “negative” or “toxic” – which in turn causes spiritual blockages that could hinder manifestations, health, growth, prosperity, etc.

It’s a broad definition. For practical application of cleansing in your craft, I want to offer some extra details that can support you in crafting your cleansing works.

Factors to consider in your cleansing works

Why you’re cleansing depends on the situation. Sometimes you need a sterile environment for raising a specific energy in your circle. Other times, you’re aiming to “reset” the ambience of a space (e.g - after a house party, you cleanse any lingering foreign energies that have been brought in by your guests.)

The form of your cleansing rituals will depend on the following factors:

What energy you’re intending to cleanse / “wash” away

The subject you’re directing cleansing energy to (e.g talisman, room, shoes) + your relationship to the subject AND the energy that you’re cleansing away.

The magnitude (power) of the energy you’re trying to cleanse away.

Depending on what you’re facing, you could end up with a simple cleansing ritual, or a more aggressive and targeted ritual. We’ll go over the factors in detail.

– What energy you’re intending to cleanse / “wash” away

A lot of power lies in names. Naming a person, naming a phenomenon, naming an energy… a name can reveal a lot of context and information you wouldn’t be able to get otherwise.

The clearer you name an energy you’re trying to cleanse away, the more effective that the cleansing will get. Even if you don’t know the name of what you’re trying to cleanse away, describing its presence, physical manifestations, and energy signature is enough to distinguish it from just any other energy around you.

Identification of what you’re working with allows you to better understand:

Your relationship to that energy (harmonious? chaotic? stable? unpredictable?)

The magnitude of that energy (how pervasive its energy is astrally AND physically)

How that energy affects the subject (which you should take into consideration while crafting your cleansing!)

Not only does it help with the above, distinguishing the negative/undesired energy will help you have a better time with your recordkeeping. Whether you keep note of your rituals through a notebook, binder, or online journal, having specific energies charted down can help you recognize symptoms of its presence again.

(A rather loose) Example: Natalie is moving into a new apartment, and she feels an unsettling heaviness in the master bedroom. She can’t tell if the heaviness is an entity, or residual energy from an event that happened before she moved in – nobody mentioned anything about someone dying here or anything…

Regardless, she sets out to investigate for an answer on how to clear it up. After taking necessary precautions (insert Natalie doing a protection prayer here), she stays in the room to observe what emotions and sensations come up. She records the following:

The longer she sits there, an unexplainable feeling of bleakness comes up.

The room feels like it’s closing in, almost suffocating.

She doesn’t pick up any usual signs of an active entity inhabiting a space.

Based on the observations she made (+ if applicable, any input from her ancestors / guides) she concludes that the dense energy she’s feeling is residual emotional energy that has culminated over time in this space. After determining this amount of information is enough, she labels this specific heaviness as “this room’s emotional past.”

Now that she has successfully identified + named the specific energy she’s wanting to clear away, she can move on to crafting the cleansing energy she will cast within this room.

Now, think about the last time you cleansed the energy of a space. At that moment, you were Natalie.

How did you handle it?

What did you use to distinguish that undesirable energy from everything else?

What did you use to record your findings about that energy? Was the energy ever recurrent?

If you have a solid grasp on this part, we’re moving on to the next one.

– The subject you’re directing cleansing energy to (e.g talisman, room, shoes) + your relationship to the subject AND the energy that you’re cleansing away.

It’s important to recognize the subject that you’re directing cleansing energy to, since you want to ensure that your cleansing energy isn’t interfered with / nullified by other forces. With recognizing the subject, you’re also tasked with the duty of acknowledging your relationship to the subject.

If you’re cleansing something like your house, something filled with your own personal energy – you likely don’t have to worry about anything getting in between your cleansing ritual unless you’re dealing with more extreme circumstances (e.g possession, haunting, etc..).

If you’re cleansing something that has heavy past energetic/spiritual ties to another’s energy, you’ll want to make sure you read the energy of that subject thoroughly to ensure that you’re sending the proper amount and type of energy necessary to cleanse away your undesired energies.

Due to how situational energetic ties to specific subjects are, it’s better for me to give factors for you to consider when crafting your cleansing spell.

Consider your relationship to any existing history with the subject (e.g if you were cleansing a talisman, are you initiated within the tradition / culture necessary for you to work with said energy?)

Note any prominent energy signatures you pick up within the subject.

Note any prominent spirits and archetypes related to the subject, along with you / your cleansing energy’s relationship to it.

If you pick up any energetic points that give off high activity (abnormally high amounts of a specific type of energy, or in some cases some energetic points acting like a portal) note that down as well.

Use all the recorded details to come to a conclusion about how to effectively counter (which in turn, allows you to cleanse) said factors in your cleansing spell.

– The magnitude (power) of the energy you’re trying to cleanse away.

The main reason I wanted to point out magnitude is because I know that there are a lot of practitioners out here doing the work in the mud for their communities – for this group of people, it’s easy for them to come across heavy energies that are way too difficult and potentially unsafe for the average practitioner to address. For example:

Situations where ancestral curses run DEEP in the energetic field of your subject.

Subjects where extreme trauma + ill intentions (murder, sexual assault, suicide, etc) are significant in their signature.

When you start practicing outside of your daily life, you get exposed to just how fucked up reality can get + just how malicious entities can be. It's important to know your depths and what you’re able to handle.

Do NOT entangle yourself in any energetic situations that you know little about.

I’ve observed that when this happens, it’s usually because someone else dragged them into it (whether it be intentionally or not).

Know your limits, educate yourself on what you’re entering, and double down on your protections.

If you’re being initiated into something, make sure to get the “fine print” of what you’re truly getting yourself into.

If you find yourself becoming overwhelmed by specific energies to the point that it’s affecting your physical wellbeing, STOP and withdraw to recover ASAP.

Keep your protections, spiritual hygiene, and energetic cords updated and strictly moderated, especially if you are frequently involved with any work that regularly requires tapping into external/foreign energies. Staying on top of spiritual hygiene is a given, but the severity in consequences varies by the practitioner’s activities. Slacking can be a minimal issue for some, but a devastating mistake for others.

Conclusion

Feel free to use this as a general reference when crafting your cleansing works, or a little checklist to see if you’ve covered all the cornerstones that you’ve needed. Hopefully this document serves you well.

XOXO, PRISMO <3

[mesetacadre]

hii (this is probably a very basic question, my bad), some time ago you posted (or reblogged idk) something about Trump not being fascist but priming the US for fascism by weakening the law/strengthening execution and judicature in the US. I haven't really heard someone put it like this before, so I'm wondering if you're willing to explain that process a bit? or explain how the separation of powers would have to work for a socialist state? :3 (hopefully this makes sense as a question it's just really something that's stuck in my head. ehem)

The separations of power are a fundamentally liberal concept, one which muddles the link between the state and the class interests behind it, by giving the appearance of the neutrality of the state, independent of the comings and goings of the different parties in liberal democracies (read: the different parties which represent different fragments of the capitalist class), in a similar way to liberal elections. It's still a class dictatorship, a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, which masks itself through mechanisms that are presented as neutral. Regardless of who controls or ceases to control the judicial power, it will still enact the class interests of the state of which it is an arm. Same with the executive and legislative, and these two branches are usually even less separated in practice because it's the same party that usually controls both. Donald Trump is one in an unending list of politicians who have used the institutions and mechanisms to their own benefit. What he is is more open about it (and this is why democrats dislike him, don't be fooled), and by bringing that "disrespect" out into the light, it could be said he is normalizing anti-liberal attitudes, or at least a-liberal, which fascists usually fit under. But again, the separation of powers is a fairy tell for civics classes. Fascists are only less ashamed to leave the already existing class dictatorship bare, instead of dressing it up like liberals do.

Communists see the state as a tool to end class society, to enforce the dictatorship of the working class until its repressive functions are no longer needed. So why would there be a nominal separation of powers? it's the same class controlling the entire state, and there are no excuses to be made about the repression of extant capitalist elements, internal and external

[canmom]

i feel a little careless about talking about the more esoteric end of computer security because in practice, keeping your devices up to date, using a password manager, not clicking sussy links and taking care what executables you run will protect you pretty well! 'throw up your hands and give up' is very much not the message here.

like here's an analogy. you could at any moment be killed by a meteorite. but it's happened so rarely that there are no modern recorded examples of someone being killed by a meteorite and historical reports are kind of dubious. you could invest in lining the roof of your house with steel and always go out in a suit of medieval armour. it would lower your chance of getting meteorite'd... but it would also cause all sorts of other problems, which probably aren't worth the tradeoff.

silly example, but all security is the same sort of tradeoff between risk and inconvenience. for example, I don't like being tracked by advertisers (it just makes my skin crawl), so I run a bunch of anti-tracking browser extensions like NoScript, PrivacyPossum and Decentraleyes and always opt out in the gdpr popups. I wouldn't generally recommend this because often this breaks the functionality of websites and I have to spend some time figuring out which scripts to enable to get them to work, and it's hard to say the annoyance is worth the benefits. on the other hand, I would pretty generally recommend blocking ads with uBlock Origin.

another example: I don't make much of a secret of my IRL name, or separate my online presence from my IRL stuff. this is a risk - e.g. if I ran afoul of some social media hate mob it could lead to trouble. but I decided the effort it would take to keep that secret is not worth it. on the other hand, if I was, say, a famous vtuber who had to worry about being stalked by fans or haters, or even aspired to be one, this would be a big secret that I'd go to great pains to maintain.

certain rituals like the activist phone bowl are arguably 'security theatre': they're not really aligned with what is a realistic threat. sure, some really weird attacks exist out there, but you really need to be realistic about who's attacking you and how they're likely to go about it, or you'll just become so paranoid that you never do anything.

[miraclewoozi]

hi j!! congratulations on 500!! can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you :) hope you’re having a lovely day! just wanted to send in a request:

❛ don’t be a stranger, okay? ❜ from the fluff list with woozi?

it’s no pressure though! thank you so much <33 mwah

LEE JIHOON, YOUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT I.T GUY. - l.jh

pair : jihoon x gn!reader prompt : “ don’t be a stranger, okay? ” wc : 2.3k heads up : coworker!jihoon. fluff. kinda silly.  notes : HI BESTIE thank u sm for sending this in!!!! i hope you like it.<3 notes 2.0 : everyone deserves an emotional support IT guy, in my unprofessional opinion. i also think that 100% of those should be woozi.

You knew Jihoon was leaving. You’ve had a lot of time to prepare for this: he told you before he even handed in his resignation that he had accepted a job offer elsewhere. But despite trying everything in your power (including, but not limited to, bribery, begging and three whole days of the cold shoulder), his decision didn’t change. When you gave him a full lecture about abandonment and betrayal, and the fact that nobody else in your work’s IT department comes close to solving some of the shit that happens with your computer…

He had the audacity to fucking laugh. 

In your moment of desperation. Your hour of need. Practically begging on your knees (all right, he was stood next to your desk while you were looking up at him from your office chair) for him not to leave you high and dry like this, he patted you on the shoulder and chuckled as he told you that you’d be fine. As if this wasn’t actually, literally, the end of the world. 

Asshole. 

And okay, whatever, maybe Jihoon isn’t ‘just’ the only person on the tech team who understands that you’ve been followed by a curse when it comes to computers since you were in middle school. Maybe he isn’t just so good at his job that him leaving has the potential to ruin your ability to do yours.

Maybe... it’s a little bit deeper than that.

You first met nearly five years ago, when he was brand new. In his first week, he came stumbling into your office, bleary eyed and coffee in hand, at 8:15 on a Monday morning to try and ‘fix’ your PC. After about 6 seconds of fumbling, your screens came to life and he flushed as he told you that a cable on one of your monitors had just come loose. Ever since, you’ve been totally taken with him: with his frowny concentrating face, his pretty, nimble fingers, his quietly delivered jokes. The way he always goes pink when the older ladies in your office coo over him and how he splutters when they tease you for practically being work-married, by now.

Not least because he’s a very nice guy, and you find him so easy to talk to, and now? Now he's leaving you. 

The guy who brings you snacks on days you have to work through your lunch breaks. The guy who comes by just to make sure you’re not about to dive out of a second floor window on a Wednesday afternoon. One of the special few people you choose to hang out with outside of work. He’s the man who meets you for coffee some weekends and lets you complain about the fact that the next closest person in your department to you in age could still be your mother, while he complains to you about bossy executives who escalate their IT jobs to a ‘critical incident’ after just five minutes. Jihoon is the guy who has brought you a silly gift to decorate your desk with every birthday and Christmas since you met. The guy who picks you up (with breakfast) when your car is in the shop getting work done. 

He even pretended to be your boyfriend one year when Johnny from accounting started to make moves on you during the annual Christmas function. (Perhaps him posessively keeping a hand on your thigh every minute you were sat down next to each other made it the best night of your life.)

All this to say… he gets you. He always has. Your weird little friendship with him works, and even though you still get butterflies every time you see him, you’ve never felt so comfortable with a colleague before. You can ignore your little crush when you start thinking about your devastation over him being gone soon. Your feelings have no part to play in Jihoon being someone you trust, someone who helps you immeasurably: someone who makes your working life a little more bearable. 

What on Earth are you going to do without him?

His last day has rolled around faster than you know what to do with, and at 3:30 on Friday afternoon, like clockwork, his head appears around your office door. An apologetic smile replaces the cheeky one he usually wears when he shows up, and you narrow your eyes at him before telling him to go away.

“Charming as ever,” he laughs, sliding into your office anyway and making a beeline for you, waving at the people who glance up and greet him. He leans against your desk and you sit back finally, crossing your arms. 

“I’m busy,” you lie, frowning at your screen. You finished everything you needed to do about ten minutes ago, but you’re not about to let him — or anyone, for that matter — know so. You’ve worked hard to master the art of looking occupied and you’re deploying every tactic you know: there’s no way you’re going to get five more projects added to your to-do list this close to home-time. “Traitor.”

“Last thing on a Friday? Like hell you are,” Jihoon chuckles, leaning down and looking at your screen too, speaking quietly enough to ensure no one around you can to hear him. 

“Blow my cover and I’ll slash your tyres,” you playfully threaten under your breath. “I’ve already rejected a meeting request this afternoon.”

“Well, aren’t you a team player,” he quips, rolling his eyes before he sits back upright and says louder, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to drop this off.”

He places a small brown bag on top of a neatly stacked pile of paperwork on the left hand side of your desk and gestures for you to look inside. When you do, you know your attempt at a stoic gaze starts to soften and you look up at him again with a saddened pout. 

“Hey,” you say quietly. “You can’t do this to me, I’m fragile enough already.”

It’s just a muffin, for crying out loud. He’s been bringing you these from the bakery across the street every week, for as many weeks as you can remember. But something about him doing it on his last day makes your heart beat out a funny little pattern and you bite the inside of your lip as he shakes his head. 

His hair is tied low today with a few pieces left out to frame his face: it softens him, giving him a bit of a curtain to hide behind, but you can still see his cheeks flush as he glances away from you. You slip your hand into the bag and pull the muffin out, setting it on your desk and peeling the paper back. 

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Jihoon says, momentarily stopping you as you rummage through your desk drawer for the cutlery set you keep wrapped up in there. You just wanted a knife so you could cut it in two. You just wanted to share this last little treat with him.

There are a million ways you could respond. Last-ditch attempts at telling him to retract his notice to leave. Advise that it’s his own fault. Pretend like you’re not going to be miserable here without him. To name but a few. 

But the fact that he’s picked up, and started to play with, the little fidget cube you keep by your pen holder for particularly boring Teams calls tells you that he isn’t saying it in the way he does when you’re taking a week off to go on vacation.

His thumbs rhythmically play with the little clicking buttons on one side and you pull the blunt knife free from the plastic bag hidden beneath your favourite notebook. Instead of teasing him, you cut the muffin equally and pick up one piece, holding it out to him.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

He eyes you to make sure you’re certain before he takes the slice out of your hand and holds it in his fingers. You pick up the other piece and extend it towards him, bumping the two halves together in a mock ‘cheers’ for the time you’ve spent together. 

You take bites from the muffin in unison and you know the zesty lemon flavour spills onto his tongue at the same time as it does yours. Soft hums come from the both of you and Jihoon tilts his head back for emphasis, too, sighing contentedly after he swallows. 

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” You ask of him, laying the paper bag down flat and putting your own piece on top of it. “I mean it. You better not forget about me.”

“As if I ever could,” he says.

“You might, if there’s someone at your new job more pitiful than I am,” you counter. “You’ll have a replacement ‘me’ quicker than you can blink.”

Jihoon laughs, setting what’s left of his half of the muffin down too and dusting the crumbs off his fingers into the trash can at your side. 

“Trust me,” he starts, folding his arms. The subtle flex of his muscle makes the shirt he’s wearing tighten around his biceps and you glance down at them, at how his sleeves are pushed up to the elbows and his long, delicate fingers lay over the neatly folded cotton. “My eyes are up here. Trust me — I don’t want a 'replacement you'.”

You know your eyes go wide as he calls you up for staring and you look at his face immediately, at the coy smile he’s wearing, at the way the tips of his ears — just visible through the way his hair separates — are dusted pink. You just nod. He takes another bite, savours, and swallows it before talking again.

“So, I actually… kind of lied? There’s another reason I came down here, uh—”

You know this catches the attention of your office’s resident blabbermouth by the way her eyebrows pick up from a few desks in front of you and you tap his hip with the back of your hand, darting your eyes towards the door quickly to hush him. Jihoon catches your drift, nods, and stands up; you lock your computer and lead him out. When you’re in the hallway, door secured (and checked) behind you, he turns to face you again, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Okay,” Jihoon nods, tilting his head forwards for a second to gather his thoughts before he shakes his hair out of his eyes and looks back up at you. “I-… I know HR have this whole thing about, like… internal… relationships, and- and stuff? So I didn’t ever… you know—”

You hold your breath, clasping your hands behind you in the hopes he doesn’t see how they start twitching. His own, you realise, are deep in the pockets of his slacks. For the same reason?

“I wanted to. Trust me. For— shit, for so long, but I didn’t know if you’d go for it, and I really didn’t want to have, like… anyway — uh-…”

The blush that was formerly only given away by its presence on his ears has migrated to his cheeks now, and is starting to spread dangerously towards his temples and down his neck. He keeps glancing everywhere around your head, as if he’s chasing pixies in the air with his eyes. It's adorable, but...

“And… I guess what I wanted to say, is—”

“Yes,” you say before he can finish. He’s never been the most outgoing but you’ve still never seen Jihoon fall over his words like this before; you’re starting to feel agonised by how long it’s taking him to get to the point. 

(Especially when said point is what you’ve been waiting a small lifetime for.)

“I didn’t even ask—”

“You didn’t have to,” you laugh. He breaks into a chuckle as well. His shoulders relax. He exhales through his pretty, pursed lips. 

“Are you busy tomorrow night?” He asks, finally, thumb tapping against his forearm. 

“Free as a bird, actually.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7?” 

“I’ll be waiting.”

He lifts one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, still laughing, screwing up his eyes and his nose in a way that makes him look entirely too kissable. You have to forcibly remind yourself that there’s nothing you can do about that right now, though, that someone could walk through that door any second and technically, he still works here until 5:30pm today.

Tomorrow night? Well. That’ll be a different story.

“I’ll let you go back to clicking through your emails,” he says then, pushing off from the wall. “Text me later?”

“Keep your voice down,” you grin, settling your hand back on the doorknob. “Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Jihoon bites his bottom lip as he nods and starts to back away, ultimately beginning on the walk back to his own department. You, however, need to let yourself calm down before you can so much as think about going back into your office: you fan your face with your hands and take a couple of deep breaths first, and only when you’re sure that there are no visible signs of glee left on your face do you re-enter, walking as nonchalantly to your desk as you can and pretending like every middle-aged, bespectacled set of eyes aren’t waiting for you to spill the gossip. 

You don’t need to spill anything, though. Pressed to the bottom of your keyboard, clear as day, — he must have done this as soon as you stood up — is a bright yellow Post-It. His immediately recognisable — but almost illegible — handwriting in the thick, black felt-tipped pens he always uses decorates the note, accompanied by a signature smiley face in the top corner. 

The ink is dry. The paper is a little curled. He wrote this before he came to find you, the giddy voice in your brain tells you. The words he’s written down only heighten that feeling. 

He gets you. He always has.

Don’t be a stranger, okay? Miss you already. - J.

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.&lt;3

[copperbadge]

More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

[vivalas-vega]

new perspectives // part twelve // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

sooo... it's been almost a year since I updated this fic 🫣 whoops lol but here we are!!! this part does include a glimpse into what's going on w jupiter/heavier topics but I don't get too much into bc a) that's not what anyone signed up for w this fic lol and b) I think any more of a reaction from jupiter would be a little out of character - and I think there's enough love/fluff/silliness in this fic to offset it. but anyway, as always let me know what you think and I promise the next update won't take a year!

new perspectives // part twelve // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven

I do not have a taglist, if you'd like to be notified of future works please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications

word count: 3.7k

warnings: language, drinking, mentions of war/violence/death (but nothing I personally think is too far outside of canon-typical), some angsty inner-monologue type stuff, slight suggestiveness

Time felt like molasses to you lately… the sand in the hourglass wasn’t sand anymore, it was a thick, sticky liquid moving with no sense of urgency. You no longer had any sense of urgency, and it was just about the most horrifying thing for you to go through. Through the chaos of your evacuation and return home you hadn’t really noticed you didn’t have full function of your arm, there was a tingling pain that shot down all the way to your fingertips and so you had to undergo surgery to repair the damaged nerves. A complex thirteen hour surgery, with an even longer recovery time.

Your prognosis was good, fantastic even. Everyone assigned to your case at the hospital was overjoyed with the results, knowing that usually patients that were in your condition were lucky to achieve ninety percent function back but you were well on track for a full hundred percent… but, that didn’t change the fact that you were standing in the middle of your living room, two months after returning home, still unable to do anything other than redecorate the house. Or bake cookies from scratch. Or go through dozens of bananas for suture practice before using them in bread. 

Your mental health therapist had already signed off on your return to work, stating that so long as you kept up with your weekly appointments for the foreseeable future she had no reason to believe you couldn’t perform your job to the fullest extent of your capabilities, but your physical therapist wasn’t as lenient. Heather was incredible, she had worked with every single one of your patients who required the extra step in their healing process and you loved her then, but this was now… and now she was the only person standing in between you and a scalpel. 

Her conditions were clear, you needed to be at a two or lower, with no pain management medication… and you were holding steady at a four. Which, to you wasn’t much, and you regretted uttering the number as soon as you did but now it was out there, and Heather knew when you were bullshitting her. There was nothing to do but do your exercises, attend your twice-weekly appointments and wait… and waiting was not something you were good at.

The house had been organized top to bottom three times, along with yours and Jake’s closets (you’d made some executive decisions on his behalf that you were still arguing about), and you’d finally acquired and hung art all throughout your home. This was good, all things you’d been meaning to get done before everything changed but never had the time to do, and you were glad to have checked them off your list but you didn’t want to be here. You’d finally finished your home and turned it into what you’d always dreamed of but it felt more suffocating than relaxing when you couldn’t leave.

And you could, but what would you do? You’d been to the beach more times in the past two months than you had since moving to San Diego, you’d taken up residence at Penny’s bar and damn near annoyed her into not opening before five ever again, you’d visited all the museums and touristy things you’d never gotten around to, and now you were officially bored. Mind numbingly, insanity inducingly bored. Jake had offered to take some leave and stay home with you but you’d assured him that if you were both stuck together in the house unable to do what you lived for it might threaten your marriage, and you couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

You simply wanted to work. You wanted to get back into the swing of things and truly return to your life but you couldn’t. You were thoroughly stuck, and you had no idea how to move through it. Up until now there hadn’t been a single obstacle placed in your path that you hadn’t blown past, and it was driving you mad that there wasn’t a damn thing you could do right now. The only thing in your control anymore was doing your stupid exercises every day, and praying to anything or anyone that would listen to make your body comply with Heather’s stupid rules. There wasn’t even anyone you could talk to that understood your job because they always said the same thing. You know better than anyone how important recovery is post-surgery and how long it can take, it’ll happen when it happens.

“Sparkling water,” Bob said softly as he placed a glass in your hand and you gave him a grateful smile. “How’s it feeling today?”

“Still the same,” you answered and he nodded, very clearly trying to keep the sympathy off his face and you appreciated the effort. It was Friday night drinks and at least one upside to your house arrest was you hadn’t missed a single one in weeks. When you were working it was normal for you to attend maybe once a month, if you were lucky. 

“Hey, perk up over there,” Bradley yelled at you from the pool table and you turned towards him with a slightly confused and slightly annoyed face. “You’re next and I don’t want you souring up the whole place.” 

You let out a laugh, “I’ll sour it up if I damn well please,” you shot back, but you wouldn’t. You hadn’t, you’d kept your mood light and jovial any time you did group outings because you knew they all worried. They had the same love and passion for their jobs as you did, and if they’d been benched for even half as long as you were they’d lose it entirely, and you knew they were kind of waiting for you to snap.

Jake ran into the bar a few minutes later, slightly sweaty and still in his flight suit and you slowly swiveled in your chair as you looked him up and down, not even attempting to hide your thoughts as you sipped your water through the straw. “Hey sweetheart, sorry I’m late,” he huffed out, pressing a kiss to your lips that you reciprocated before pushing him backwards. His arms were particularly massive in this moment and based on his appearance and the fact he didn’t bother to change, you figured Maverick had him do push-ups for some infraction in the air… and you’d never been so pleased to have a rule-breaking husband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused as to why you put a hand on his chest when he tried to step back into you but his concern turned into a full-blown smirk when he realized your eyes hadn’t left his arms. “We’re in public,” he said, almost chastising, but you just shrugged.

“And?” you replied, reaching out and gripping the firm muscle before pulling him back into you for another kiss, letting your hands roam freely over his arms. “What’d you do to piss off Mav?”

“What didn’t he do?” Natasha muttered and you chuckled. 

“You know what? I don’t really care,” you said. “Do it again on Monday,” you added and Jake laughed, kissing your temple.

“Honey, if you want me to do push-ups for you, all you have to do is ask.” His smirk wasn’t going anywhere, and his eyes were a little dark as he looked down at you and it took everything in you not to ask him to drop and give you fifty right in this moment.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you decided to reply and he gave you a kiss on the forehead before going to get himself a beer. You chatted with Bob and Mickey about the exercise they’d done and they filled you in on what Jake had done while you laughed in disbelief. You knew your husband was good, but you sometimes wondered how the hell he was still around, in a general sense and in the Navy.

“Eliza!” you shouted when you spotted her fiery locks approaching and you grabbed her by the shoulders, “tell me everything.”

She chuckled, looking between you and Bradley, who had been moving to greet his girlfriend before you intercepted. “Uh, hello to you too.”

“Yeah, hi,” you dismissed. “Tell me everything,” you repeated and she just gave you a look before kissing Bradley and settling under his arm.

“Everything is exactly the same as the last time you asked me to tell you everything,” she replied and you huffed. “Patients are patients, attendings are attendings, and the walls are still standing.”

“Oh? Nothing about a Dr. Phillips from Baylor?” you asked pointedly and her eyes widened as she looked up at Bradley accusingly.

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“He didn’t,” you interjected, “Dr. Stevens called me particularly distressed today about a patient and actually begged me to come down and do something.”

“God damn it,” she groaned and you just raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Look, the new guys an ass but I’m handling it.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “I’ve got some hack in my ER terrorizing my residents and I still cannot get cleared to come back.”

“We’re managing, and we’ll continue to manage until you get back… whenever that is. There isn’t any rush,” she said and you suddenly felt like crying, and to push past that feeling you went down to the bar and ordered yourself a drink, something you’d done very infrequently since returning home. It wasn’t that you couldn’t, your mind had just been a little preoccupied but a little liquid numbing didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right now.

You took your glass and wandered out onto the beach, picking a spot far enough away from the bar to be free of its noise, and sipped as you stared out at the ocean. You felt completely out of control and powerless, something you’d only truly felt while you were gone, on the other side of the world. With each passing day you felt those same feelings starting to arise and trigger flashbacks, unpleasant sights and sounds you wanted to keep in the past.

You’d spoken about everything that happened at great length with your therapist and you had worked to process it all and figure out how to move forward, but that plan included going back to work. You felt like she truly understood you and how your brain worked, and she understood that the best thing for you in this moment was picking up a scalpel and doing what you do best… but your arm would not cooperate and you, somewhat pathetically, glared at the scar on your bicep.

“What are you doing out here?” Jake asked, plopping down next to you and noticing the way you nearly jumped out of your skin, “hey, I’m sorry… it’s just me,” he said softly, eyeing your expression before putting an arm around your waist. “What’s going on?”

“Having a bad moment,” you replied and he nodded. You didn’t have them often, but when you did Jake always felt incredibly unsure of how to handle it. While you’d talked at length with your therapist about what happened, he got the bare minimum. You didn’t want to worry him, and he didn’t want to push you too far which put the two of you in a bit of an awkward situation when the bad moments came up.

“Was it what Eliza said? I know this is hard but you know better than anyone that these things just take time.”

“Please don’t,” you sighed and he gave you a confused look. “If someone tells me I know better one more time I might actually snap,” you explained. “I just… There isn’t anything for me to do and I don’t know how to just do nothing. I don’t know how to do this… I can’t do this.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting your head towards him and brushing the hair away from your face. “I know this sucks, and I wish I could fix it for you, but… there isn’t anything you can’t do, sweetheart.”

“I couldn’t save them,” you said, with a surprising lack of emotion in your tone as you gazed outwards and Jake was taken aback by the sudden admission, but he didn’t show it. “I couldn’t. Protocol was for me to get to safety… but, I went to the command center anyway, I saw what happened, and there wasn’t anything I could do but hide.” You paused for a moment. “You know, I never had to worry about it. About all the other stuff, I always had a soldier flanking me, watching my back… but it was just me, and what I had wasn’t enough, but it didn’t matter anyway because when I thought it was over and tried to help who I could I still got caught.”

Jake’s eyes were wide as he listened and you finally turned to face him, “I never had to worry about it before. I took an oath, Jake. I took an oath to save people. Some would argue I did the right thing, but I took an oath to do no harm and did the exact opposite, and what was it worth? I couldn’t save anyone.” You looked back out over the water and Jake felt like he was underneath the waves crashing just a handful of yards away, processing what you had just told him and figuring out how to respond. 

You had taken a life, and maybe if you were showing even an ounce of emotion Jake would have known what to say. He would have been able to read that emotion to figure out what you needed, but there wasn’t any. You were still, and calm. He didn’t even know if his own experience on the matter would be relevant enough to help you. He had two confirmed air-to-air kills. He had taken lives, too… but from a distance. There was a layer of separation between him and what he did.

“J, you didn’t do anything wrong-”

“That’s not the point,” you cut him off, but your voice was soft, almost gentle. “I know I didn’t do anything wrong, I did exactly what I was told to. My life was prioritized because of my ability to save others, so I prioritized myself just like they told me to… and it wasn’t worth a damn because I still couldn’t save anyone.” Silence lingered for a long moment before you spoke again. “This isn’t… I was prepared for losing people, this isn’t about that, it’s… helpless. Since the moment I saw what was happening from behind the command center I have felt completely and utterly out of control. I couldn’t do what I was meant to do then and I can’t do what I’m meant to do now. All I can do is wait and I can’t really do that either,” you chuckled humorlessly. “There’s a lot I can’t do, Jake.”

“Come here,” he whispered, tugging you into his lap and you leaned against his chest as you kept your focus on the water. “You will get back to doing what you were meant to. I know it’s taking longer than you want and I am so sorry, but rushing things could leave you worse off than you are now. Your body needs time.”

“Time is overrated,” you replied and he laughed softly, his body shaking you against him. “I’m tired of feeling out of control.”

“So, let’s focus on what we can control, yeah?” he asked and you nodded half-heartedly. “We can do your exercises every night, we’ll keep giving our friends suture covered bananas, and maybe we can find a way to make the most of this time off… we could go on a little road trip?”

“That sounds nice,” you hummed. “Maybe Palm Springs, or Joshua Tree,” you suggested.

“Hell, let’s do both,” he replied and you laughed. “You can come to work with me next week too, we have a bunch of different simulators and things… could help with regaining dexterity and strength.”

“You just want to show off your skills,” you teased.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” he chuckled. “It still might help… and it’s something we can control.”

“Will Maverick be okay with it?” 

“Honey, Maverick will be showing off for you way more than anyone else,” he replied and you let out a laugh. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I just wish they’d let me do an appy, at the very least.”

“You hate appys,” he laughed and you shrugged.

“Desperate times,” you sighed, twisting around in his lap. “I love you, you know that?”

“Well,” he said, already leaning into the dramatics, “I’d sure hope so.” 

You scrunched your nose at him, “you know what? I take it back,” you said and his jaw dropped. “You’re too arrogant,” you added, standing and you suddenly regretted even teasing him because now he was standing too, and chasing you. “Wait, no!” you yelled, trying to dodge him and your laughter echoed all along the beach as you ducked under his out-stretched arms.

“Wow, aren’t you supposed to be like… super fit or something?” you asked, hand on your hip a good few yards away. 

“Oh, you’re just asking for it now,” he laughed, lunging for you again and this time he got you… and miscalculated and sent both of you tumbling into the oncoming waves. The water was freezing and it took you both a minute to figure out which way was up, and when Jake finally broke the surface he heard his favorite sound in the world… your bright, almost maniacal laughter. 

“You are such an idiot!” you screeched, clinging onto him as the waves bobbed you along and he didn’t have a response, too caught up in staring down at your face as he carefully moved the now wet hair out of your eyes… and you forgot to be pretend-mad at him because he was giving you your favorite look in the world. The one that told you he loved you way more than he could ever try to verbally express. You leaned up to press your lips against his and let yourself get lost in the moment, lost in the feeling of him and the gentle sway of the ocean and the fact that while so much was out of your control, there was a lot that wasn’t and that’s all you needed to focus on. 

You let him tug you out of the water when the cold became a little too much to ignore and as you trudged onto the sand you let out a gasp when you realized your toes were sinking directly into the earth, “my sandals!” you yelled, turning and looking back at the ocean as if they’d just be floating there on top for you to pluck out… and of course, they weren’t. 

Jake tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help himself, “you look adorable,” he said, and you looked down at yourself. Your jeans were completely soaked and clinging to your legs awkwardly, and your white button-up looked frumpy as water dripped from the hem… and you had no shoes. 

“Yeah, well you don’t look much better,” you pointed out, trying to wring out your shirt as you walked back towards the bar. His flight suit was still hanging around his hips, the sleeves in desperate need of a re-tie and his white tank top may as well have not been there at all. Frankly, he did look much better as he tried to shake the water out of his hair with his fingers, but you didn’t want to admit that to him. Not when you had no shoes. 

“I just littered,” you mumbled as Jake pulled the door open for you. “I just littered in the fucking ocean.” 

“Hey, you have all this free time now… we’ll sign you up for some beach clean up to off-set the damage,” he replied and you rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, did we not get the memo for the wet t-shirt contest?” Javy asked, looking at the pair of you skeptically. 

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically. 

“Huh… pink lace,” Bradley said and your eyes widened, as you looked down at your shirt. “Not what I would have pictured for you, Seresin,” he added and Eliza stifled a laugh while Jake punched him in the arm. 

“You think that’s funny?” you asked, taking a step towards him and he put his hands up in surrender.

“No,” he said quickly. “Incredibly not funny, I didn’t-” he tried but it was too late. You launched yourself onto him and clung as tightly as you could, letting the water from your clothes seep onto him for as long as you could as he tried to push you off. 

“Seresins!” you heard, cutting through everyone’s laughter, and you slowly let go of Bradley and turned to see Penny standing with a no-nonsense expression and crossed arms. “You are tracking water all over my bar!” 

“I’m so sorry-”

“That’s our bad, we’ll-”

“Where are your shoes?” She asked, looking down at your bare feet before tossing towels at you that you both caught with sheepish smiles.

“Ocean ate them,” you replied and she shook her head.

“No shirt, no shoes…” she trailed off as she walked behind the bar and put her hand on the bell. 

“Oh come on-”

“Penny, that’s not even on the sign!” you tried but it was no use. The sound of the ringing bell rang throughout the bar and you nodded in defeat as everyone cheered, turning to retrieve your purse from Bob to start up probably the biggest tab you’d ever have at the Hard Deck. 

“Rules are rules,” she said as she took your card and you gave her a half-hearted glare.

“It’s not even a rule,” you shot back and she just smiled as she placed a pair of sneakers on the bar.

“I want them back eventually.”

“Thank you, Penny,” you sighed, returning to the pool table and sliding them on.

“We absolutely deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Jake said, leaning down to give you a kiss. “We absolutely did.”

[drabblesandimagines]

Bold

Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff Commissioned piece, 2,820 words - thank you to the commissioner for commissioning me, and for allowing me to share on here too! x

The Imperial soldier squeezes your cheeks so hard between armour-clad thumb and forefinger that it’ll leave bruises, digging into your jaw to direct your half-lidded gaze at him. You’d been staring in the corner when he’d come in – head pounding, shivering one minute and sweltering the next, barely reacting until he’d grabbed hold of you. You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve now been shackled in this damp, dark and cold cell awaiting punishment, how many hours it’s been since you’ve had anything to eat or drink.

“We are gonna make a fine example out of you in the morning, my lady.” He snarls out the title with distaste. “Filthy Branded sympathizer, hm? Well, you’ll be pleased to hear if you love them so much, you can die with them.”

He shoves your head against the wall and gets to his feet. You don’t say anything in retaliation – don’t have the strength - but hear him leave the cell, locking the door behind him, as always. This is it, then. A public execution is how you will meet your fate, alongside some poor Bearers. It used to be rare that Bearers be executed, too much of a valuable resource for the Empire, but they seem to be growing keener on it ever since the Mothercrystals began to fall.

Was it really so wrong what you’d been doing - giving Bearers a warm bed and a hot meal when their days were so already so cruelly numbered? You owed a Bearer your life, after all. In those days after the fall of Phoenix Gate, they had helped you escape out of Rosalie before the Iron Blood and Empire could descend.

How life had changed since that moment.

You curl up on the floor, shackles clanking against the concrete as you move, and close your eyes, hoping that your last night of dreams will be of happier times.

--

Rosalie, Capital of Rosaria, Year 860

It had been easy enough slipping in to the banquet hall. By this point of the wedding feast, everyone was far too merry on wine and ale to pay any mind to the girl who followed in the footsteps of a couple of Shields, just relieved from their duty.

You scanned the high table for your target, fidgeting with the silver pendant around your neck – a nervous habit your mother scolded you for constantly, “Ladies do not fidget” ­-and smiled as you saw Joshua sat in one of the high-backed chairs, alone, poking at something on his dinner plate with a sour look on his face.

He didn’t enjoy these functions - to have the Phoenix attend such an event was seen as a blessing and honour upon the newlyweds. Elwin was away with the war effort, his usual chair empty as a sign of respect, but Anabella had abandoned her younger son’s side for once, conversing with some of the Imperial noblemen who had travelled to the duchy especially for the celebrations.

You hurry between tables and guests, taking cover, until you reach the end of the high table and duck under the table cloth to crawl on your hands and knees to below where Joshua is sitting. You’re thankful you’re dressed in navy this evening - your governess would scold you rotten if you came home with stains again.

“Psst!” You tug at the hem of his robes sharply, causing him to look down in shock. Joshua’s widen in surprise before a shy smile develops. He looks around the room to make sure no attention is on him at that moment and slides down off his chair to join you on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

 You grin, proud of yourself. “My governess thinks I am practicing needlework with Lady Jill, so I thought I’d see if you were need in company.”

“You snuck in!” Joshua gasps in realization. You’ve always been more adventurous, more bold than him, though it was obviously much harder when he was under his mother’s watch.

“Mm. I walked in right behind the Shields, if you would believe it. They didn’t even see me.” You’re almost giddy. “Now, have you managed to have any fun at all?”

He pouts, fiddling with the hem of his robe. “Not really. They had cake, but Mother said I couldn’t until I had eaten everything on my plate.”

“Let me guess – carrots?”

He gives a curt nod.

You roll your eyes, he’s always been particularly averse to the vegetable. “Wait a moment.” You crawl out from your hiding place, heading towards an abandoned table – the dancing had started in earnest now – and swiped a piece of untouched cake from a plate, balancing it in your palm as you hurry back to your hiding place.

“Here,” you break apart the delicate sponge with your fingers, offering him half – the bigger half – and smile. “Let’s share a piece.”

Joshua beams, accepting the offering and raising it up to his lips to take a delicate bite. It’s delicious and so sugary sweet, topped with icing - Mother is always forcing him to eat things she deems good and nutritious for him to aid with his ill health.

The two of you eat your cake in silence as you peek out under the table cloth, watching the ladies’ skirts twirl across the dance floor as the festivities continue.

“What are they doing out there now?”

“Dancing.” You reply, almost wistfully.

“Do you…” he hesitates, brushes the crumbs off his hands, “Do you wish to dance?”

“My governess says I have two left feet,” you lament, dropping the cloth to turn back to him, fiddling with your necklace once more.

“That is untrue”, Joshua protests. “I saw you dance at the First Shield celebrations – you were graceful. Mother even agreed.”

“No,” you grow a little bashful then, shy of compliments. “Plus, that wasn’t proper dancing, that was-“

A sword pokes cautiously through the table cloth then, making the two of you jump.

“Well, well, what’s this - an intruder in the Great Hall?” Your heart skips a beat at being caught, watching as the sword carefully lifts up the cloth and Clive pops his head through, a curious smile on his face in a crouched position as he takes in the two of you.

“My lady, your governess is causing quite the commotion in search of you. She appears to be under the impression that you were practicing your needlework with Jill.”

“Ah...”

“However, Jill informed her that you had been, but had just headed homewards prior to her arrival. You may wish to head back before she finds you are, in fact, not.”

“Thank you, my lord. Please pass on my thanks to Lady Jill too.” You bow your head in respect – always have been a little nervous of Clive despite him being very sweet - before beginning to crawl out past him. You pause, turn your head over your shoulder and beam at the blonde-haired boy. “Goodnight, Joshua.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, bashfully.

As you disappear, Clive shakes his head with a knowing smile at the Phoenix, who scowls in response.

“You’re making that face again, brother.”

“What face?”

“The one all the adults do.”

Clive sighs, ruffling his brother’s hair. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Come on,” he offers Joshua his hand. “Out of there before Mother notices.”

--

Year 678

You sleep in feverish spits and spurts, a hoarse-sounding cough wracking your lungs until dawn breaks, where you are dragged up to your feet and along to a wagon for transportation, a group of three Bearers already within. You’re barely conscious but you don’t fight it, perhaps the fever will take you before the noose can.

Everything happens in a haze – a bumpy wagon ride, the clash of metal on metal… You swear someone picks you up with gentle hands rather than rough ones, bundles you in something warm and soft, a gentle bobbing sensation as if you are on a boat…

And then there’s a moment where you see stormy blue eyes that seem familiar from long ago, a flicker of recognition…

Then darkness.

--

Clive storms into the infirmary, you cradled in his arms and Tarja looks up, ready to chide him for once again interrupting Joshua’s check-up, but her prepared scowl drops as she sees what he carries.

“What’s happened?”

“Three Bearers incoming – no injuries, as far as I can tell. Cole says this one hasn’t been properly conscious since they rescued her – a fever, mayhaps.”

“Right,” Tarja nods her head towards an empty bed. “Put her down.”

He places you down, gently, on the bed besides Joshua, who had got to his feet in the commotion – trying to take advantage of it to sneak away from Tarja’s ministrations.

“Joshua, wait.” Clive grabs his brother’s arm, halting him firmly in his tracks. “Take a look at her face – a good one. Am I mistaken, or isn’t it…?” He trails off, looking for confirmation.

Joshua quirks an eyebrow, confused by his brother’s request, but he complies all the same. He walks back over to the bedside and gazes down upon your face, paired with the pendent hanging around your neck and he swears his heart stops.

--

There’s a dull thud in your head as consciousness returns, your eyes flutter open to take in a wooden ceiling, but not one of a wagon. You’re lying on a soft mattress, covered in a blanket and, most peculiarly, someone has their hand resting upon yours.

You turn your head and stare at the blonde man sat besides you, who meets your gaze with a familiar bashful smile.

“Hello,” his voice is soft, just as you remember. “I do not know if you remem-“

You don’t let him finish his sentence, sitting up and throwing your arms around his neck. He’s a little taken back by the sudden act of affection, grunting a little at the impact, but it soon turns into a chuckle as he wraps his arms back around you.

“I thought you dead.” You mumble into his shoulder, voice hoarse but thick with unshed tears. You pull back, wanting to take in his face. “Or am I? Tell me, is it really you, Joshua?”

He nods, beaming now – tears brimming in his own eyes. “It is me, my lady.”

“But how…?” Your question is cut off by that awful wracking cough, burning your lungs and making your eyes water. Joshua rubs your back – he knows all too well how painful coughs can be, after all.

“Easy. Tarja, our healer, will ban me from your bedside if I cause too much excitement. You must rest. There will plenty of time for conversation later, I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand and squeeze it in acknowledgement, trying to catch your breath as your cough finally begins to subside.

“Here.” He drops his hand from your back and twists awkwardly, reaching for a tankard of water by the bedside and offers it to you. “Small sips, now.”

You take it gratefully, being mindful of Joshua’s instruction despite a dreadful thirst and sip slowly, keen to return to conversation, so many questions running through your mind.

He gently takes the tankard once you have finished its contents and places it down, a pout now on his lips.

“I beg you excuse me – Tarja will be most displeased if she discovers you have awakened and I have not informed her. I will be but a moment.”

He gets to his feet – he’s certainly taller than you now, still of a slim build and almost all leg - and you squeeze his hand again firmly as you could hold. “I fear this is a dream.”

Joshua smiles – that same sweet smile you remember from childhood – and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss across your knuckles. “I assure you this is most real, my lady.”

 --

After a few more days in the infirmary, plied with various elixirs and tonics and strict bedrest, Joshua staying firmly by your side every waking moment that he was permitted to, Tarja finally deems you recovered enough to leave. He is sure to take your hand and escort you down the stairs, giving you a grand tour of the Hideaway, so you found it to be called.

“Joshua?” Jill calls for him as she descends the stairs from Clive’s chambers – the two of you having just done a lap of the Ale Hall. “Clive would like a word.”

“Of course,” Joshua nods, giving you an apologetic smile before he turns to ascend the stairs. Jill quickly swoops in to take his place, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the Ale Hall and he can’t help but muse that he had somewhat monopolized your time as late. He knocks on the door of his brother’s chambers once and is bade to enter, finding Clive seated at his writing desk, two tankards in front of him and a chair waiting on the other side. The other Fire Dominant gestures towards it and as Joshua sits, he wastes no time.

“Now,” Clive pushes the tankard of ale towards his brother, “Out with it.”

Joshua looks bemused. “Out with what?”

“You’re in love.”

He lightly scoffs, but there is no hiding the crimson in his cheeks. “Nonsense.”

“We all saw it when you were children, Joshua, and we can all see it again now.”

Joshua takes a deep sip from his tankard, trying to avoid Clive’s gaze.

“Look, I do not mean to push you, just… with what we know about Ultima, I do not wish for you to have regrets going forward. I wish I had told Jill years ago of my feelings, and  I cannot sit here idle and allow you to do the same.”

“What if she does not feel the same?”

Clive smiles at him – the same smile he and all the adults did back when he was merely a boy – and he knows what he must do.

--

“My lady,” he offers you hand once more, “Would you care to join me some fresh air? The night is quite pleasant and the view from the observation desk exquisite.”

You take it – it feels more and more natural every time – and nod. “I would love nothing more.”

You head up the spiraling stair case – Joshua’s hand still holding your own, another resting on the small of your back and emerge at the top. He was right - it’s a clear, moon-lit night, Metia twinkling and stars down upon you, the still waters of the blighted lake almost like a mirror.

He leads you over to the bench and the two of you take a seat, for a moment just enjoying each other’s company in silence, though you soon notice the twitch in the Phoenix’s leg.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…” He looks down a moment, before meeting your gaze with his own again. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Me - whatever for?”

He places his hand hesitantly upon yours, clasped politely in your lap. “For being my steadfast friend when I was growing up, and now, to reunite with you after all these years, to see the beautiful young woman you’ve become – still as kind and honest and… brave.”

“Brave?” You laugh at the suggestion. “No, not me – not in comparison to Clive’s merry band.”

“My lady, please don’t dismiss yourself, and especially not when I am trying my best to pay you compliments, which I see you are still no good at accepting.” He teases.

“Some things never change, I suppose.”

“Yet some things do.”

There is no time to question as Joshua leans forward then, cupping your palm with his hand and stares deeply into your eyes, making your cheeks prickle with heat.

“May I be as bold to request a kiss, my lady?”

You don’t even answer, leaning to forward to meet his lips with yours, placing your hand upon his shoulder. It is gentle – as Joshua has always been and will always be – and soft, slowly increasing in pace as the two of you grow in confidence and passion. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer, bodies pressed as he runs his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entrance and -

There is a creak of a floorboard and the two of you break apart, flustered by the interruption, hearts pounding. A sheepish Clive is stood there, Jill trying to stifle a giggle behind him, the two of them now trying to head back down the stairs.

“Brother,” Joshua calls, “I assure you we are no longer in need of a chaperone.”

“I can tell.” Clive replies, his voice carrying from up the stairs.

“Now, sweet one,” Joshua places his hand back upon your cheek, arm once more around your waist to pull you against him. “Where were we?” ---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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[knifedog-machina]

Daemons To Systems, And The Ways They Intertwine

Hey, I’m Max, he/they - I’m the host of our system, the guy who lives in the front and has only ever lived here, the one who identifies our body as my body specifically. A few nights ago, we realized something about our system origins while talking to some other systems, and I’ve honestly never heard of it happening before, so I thought I’d talk about it.

I used to think that I was a singlet before Jude and Gavin walked in. Now I’m pretty sure I wasn’t. See, before I was the host of a system, I was a daemian. I had three daemons, over the course of my time practicing daemonism, interacting with the community. And they were all a little weird.

The first one was Charlie, affectionately longformed as Charlemagne. Xe appeared in January 2018 as a red fox, said that was xir settled form, and never changed from that. That’s an option for daemons - I know other daemons who chose their forms, independent of how well that form represented their daemian, and stayed that way - but it was in contrast to how most people seemed to do it. I never really felt the need to find a form that fit my personality, not when xe was so confident that this was what xe was.

I didn’t try to make xir do anything, I didn’t decide to give xir faux autonomy - xe just did things xirself, with or without my prompting. Xe was playful, optimistic, a cheerful presence always willing to race around and perk me back up. I really needed xir, back then - I was going through a lot of stress in high school, and I needed someone around to remind me of the whimsical little joys in life. Xe fronted sometimes, and I loved when xe did, conjured phantom tail and paws and big fox ears and an unstoppable zest for life.

My next daemon, Martin, appeared in May 2019 after a fever dream. Really. I was sick and tired and miserable, and I didn’t want to do anything, including things that would make me feel better, and a new internal voice appeared in my head. She told me to drink some water and get to sleep. The next morning, she was still there, lounging around as a large black dog, and she stayed.

This became her role, her purpose in our mind, being a shepherd for my needs. She ran our faulty executive functioning, told me to take care of myself when I forgot important things, encouraged me when I failed to meet expectations. She raised her hackles when anyone tried to overstep our boundaries, and advocated for doing what we needed to protect ourselves, regardless of whether it was nice or polite.

Charlie and Martin overlapped in existence for a while. Charlie loved having a big sibling to play with, and Martin was fond of xir. So I had two daemons for a while, and the arrangement was nice. As I transitioned out of high school into college, my circumstances and environment drastically changed. Charlie was sweet, but xe stopped having a function in my life, so over the months, xe popped up less and less, until xe faded away entirely. Xe wasn’t upset to go, and xir memory is a comfort to me - xe served xir purpose, brought me joy, and had a life well lived.

In October 2021, I created a new daemon, compartmentalizing my emotional dysregulation and disordered anxiety into something that was Not Myself, so I could talk to it and understand its needs without being overwhelmed with distress. This became the feral shadow of a dog that we named Cortisol, nicknamed Court - and if Martin was our Freudian superego, who provided guidance for my decisions and stability when I got stressed, Court was our id, feeling all the explosive emotions that I couldn’t externally express and curling up for scritches like a beloved pet when it got what it needed.

We stayed like that for almost a year, getting familiar with the rhythm of life together. Then, in August 2022, my current headmates walked into my brain. My daemons vanished for the duration of their stay.

They only stayed around a few days, that first time - I was moving to a new place and having new people in my brain simultaneously was overloading our mental RAM, so I was forgetting a lot, and I decided that I’d rather live with them some other time. They understood, we said our goodbyes, and they walked out the next morning. (Recounting this to my friend Tanix was hilarious, by the way. “what the fuck (positive)” he said, his own headmates unable to do this. The joys of being a gateway system.) Once the headmates were gone, my daemons returned into my life.

They came back in March 2023, after I settled down into college for a while, and the memory didn’t jam up like it did previously, so we didn’t part ways this time. Martin and Court vanished overnight, again, and looking back on it, I’m noticing some patterns.

Gavin is basically performing the same role that Martin did - he’s the guy reminding us about our responsibilities, talking through the emotions when we feel like garbage, telling me to eat when I forget, or encouraging me to eat when I have enough sensory issues that I can't stomach anything. He consistently fronts when talking to people we don’t especially like, because he feels protective of us and tends to be the most patient with annoyances.

He’s also literally just some guy, just a decent human person who wound up in here because his partner arrived in my brain five minutes before him and understandably got really upset about it, so he followed them in. Somehow. We don't know how it works, but I also don't know exactly where the first two of my daemons came from, so I’m fine leaving it as a mystery.

(He has a lot of complicated feelings about the position he's in, playing a daemon’s role as a completely different person from me, and will probably write his own post about it some time.)

Jude is, unfortunately, kinda in the same role as Court. And since Court held the emotional dysregulation in my brain, Jude also holds the grand majority of the distress and anxiety that we feel on a regular basis. We all really wish it was split more evenly, because Jude tends to not only lose the ability to talk when they panic, they also get stuck in the front, completely unable to talk to me or Gavin.

(It’s not even that they feel the stress that directly affects them, it’s that on top of the stress that we get in our daily life. They regularly had panic attacks over my grades and exams last semester, and they weren’t even the one studying for it at all! It’s fucked up and I don’t love it for us.)

And there are other interesting little coincidences. You know how Court was a sketched-in sort of black dog? Jude only really realized they related to dogs upon arriving in the system with me, and the archetypal form they identify with is, again, a stylized black dog.

It’s really interesting, the ways my brain decided to be plural, because I didn’t think I was a system back then. I had a daemon, then two daemons, and they were daemons because I considered them parts of myself - no matter how autonomous they were, we were bound together in the same identity, as parts of the same person. They were reflections of me, and I loved them like I loved myself, and they loved me with the same ferocity.

With this realization, that my daemons effectively merged into my system, I did have to ask - are my headmates also parts of me, since they’re falling into the same functional compartments in my brain? We don’t think so, or at least, we don’t think it’s that simple. 

They’re completely different people from me, people who arrived here with their own lives and memories and identities. They aren’t autonomous reflections of my psyche like my daemons were. They’re my weird roommates who moved in with me, and my boyfriends, and I guess you could say we’re life partners - because hey, what’s a partner if not someone you share a life with? What’s more intimate than sharing the same body, hearing each other's thoughts and feelings? They aren't parts of me, but we live the same life together, and I think that counts as something just as significant.

[no-stupid-questions-official]

I am struggling with something I think is. Quite dumb. And im not sure how to phrase this.

Am I being accommodating to my mental issues if I hire a cleaner to help me keep my apartment clean occasionally (because I am struggling. Like. Alot. To stay on top of cleaning my apartment in addition to working a full time job + online school + taking care of three pets + eating/showering/sleeping + trying to do whatever i can in what time i do have to manage my steadily declining mental health + try to do any hobbies + manage my adhd)

Or. Am i just being lazy and not trying hard enough to manage my mental illnesses. I feel like if I do this I'm just copping out. I can do it. Like physically theres nothing stopping me. I just need my husband to practically hold me at gunpoint and he just keeps getting more and more disappointed in my inability to do anything without him telling me what to do (because my executives dont function quite right and if I'm left to my own devices I will clean but its always some small thing that doesnt matter and it always takes me three times longer than it should).

I dont know if this is like. Admitting that I really am incapable of doing anything by myself and I dont know what to do anymore.

-

[sapphoshands]

okay. as someone who went into the finale not wanting agatha to die, not expecting a positive agatha/rio reconciliation, and not wanting agatha to be redeemed… what could i change about the finale that i would actually like? because the more i think about it, the more i hate the execution but am okay-ish with the outcome. 

(nb this is assuming that the obvious sequel setup goes ahead. if this is the last we see of agatha’s story i will haunt kevin feige for the rest of his natural life and beyond.) 

obvs i do not have access to budget, schedule, other notes, etc. but if i’d come in to these scripts at script stage, this is what i would’ve changed.

ONE. give us more ghosts. a whole bunch of what i really hated here makes more sense if we assume that rio hates ghosts because they’re out of her control (arguably set up but not made explicit). are they souls that escaped rio? give us a ghost in the flashbacks, or another line about them in agatha’s trial. in which case agatha ‘sacrificing’ herself to rio becomes: agatha delivered billy to rio as promised. her vow ended there, not when rio reaped him. so by getting billy to surrender, agatha made it so rio was bound not to see agatha after she died… a loophole agatha could use to escape, again, and endear herself to the boy who can shove free-floating souls back into convenient bodies, making him more subservient to her story. i think we got quite close to this and if (WHEN) we get more story, this is likely to become somewhat explicit. but it needed a bit more on the screen. 

TWO. give us more agatha/rio. not just from a shippy perspective. i think we needed: more establishing of their relationship (why does death love agatha enough to contravene the natural order of things for her?). more work and play: what was it like when it was good (and so fucked up in so many matching-each-other’s-freak ways). more explanation of what it means that rio has been ‘pursuing’ agatha and making her life hell (is this just agatha lashing out?). and frankly, we needed more flashbacks that weren’t just about motherhood. the show did such a good job of presenting us a balanced agatha and then threw that ALL out the window. 

both of these notes, i suspect, were at some point on the page and then were sacrificed to budget or to plaza’s schedule. fuck u megalopolis. 

TWO POINT FIVE. also, i would’ve added at least one flashback kiss. not just because we deserve it. but because i do not love lesbian bed death kiss and having another kiss would’ve mitigated that a LOT. that said, i do appreciate that they made sure to have more than one queer kiss in the show, at least. 

THREE. move nicky closer to the modern day. i get that this was to establish the ballad as long ago as possible, but the idea that rio and agatha had like… a normal human lifespan of love and then nearly three centuries of antagonism… isn’t sold in the rest of the story. this is probably my most fanfic rather than functional note. but even a 1790s ballad would’ve given agatha a good long history and given them a much deeper relationship. 

??? the thing i don’t know how to square is the darkhold red herring. i don’t mind that agatha’s deep dark secret is that she couldn’t save her son in a quite simple human way. but this still feels like a flapping loose end rather than a purposeful misdirect. why did the darkhold shield agatha from rio? is that why she sought it out? why did rio come hunting for agatha in the first place? 

also: still not sure about agatha’s control over her power and how that was/wasn’t voluntary. a more minor point but it would’ve been interesting to have that teased out a bit more. 

things i do love: the ballad being agatha’s. the road being billy’s. everything about agatha harkness. everything. agatha harkness, ghost troll learning to love objects and appear through walls. a future of death chasing her undead lover?? the practical sets. so many wonderful witchy women. the queerness of it ALL.

so we’re really not in a terrible place to keep going. if we’d had more of agatha’s manipulations and more of the backstory, i would feel so much less like this show took a sharp pivot in its endgame and we still could’ve ended up more or less here. and going through this process makes me feel a bit better because i can see the promise now. but i definitely also see where we missed out.