#How to avoid getting trapped in a false breakdown

[signode-blog]

How to Trade the Failed Breakdown (Bearish Trap)

In technical analysis, the concept of a failed breakdown — often called a bear trap — is one of the most powerful reversal patterns that traders can capitalize on. A failed breakdown occurs when price action breaks below a key support level, lures in short sellers, and then quickly reverses to the upside. This trap can lead to strong short-covering rallies and presents high-probability trading…

[starburstminibot]

Hey I loved your explanation of breakdowns development with bumblebee! I was wondering what bumblebee was thinking at the same time though? Like while he was carrying??

I love this AU though!! It’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about! 😩😩💗

It wasn’t easy for Bee either lemme tell you…

Bumblebee has the capabilities of seeing good in everyone… and he is very aware of how vulnerable it can make him. He’s been manipulated before, he’s been taken advantage of due to his child-like optimism. He’s been… hardened to a degree because of it. He’s not a young naive scout anymore. He still likes to see the good, but he’s much more cautious of letting that blind him to the reality.

Except everything goes out the window when it comes to Breakdown.

Bumblebee doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because they were friends before the war, maybe it’s because despite everything Breakdown’s never really done anything to hurt him (at least intentionally)

Bumblebee is more aware than anyone how vulnerable he leaves himself by trusting Breakdown so wholeheartedly.

He knows how quickly Breakdown could give him a false tip and lure him right into a trap. And yet Bee would still take his words and trust them like the gospel.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t value his life quite as much as he should. He doesn’t want to die… but he’s been in the trenches of a war far longer than he ever experienced living at peace (if that’s what you would call the civil unrest that was slowly tipping into war by the time he came online) he’s a bit desensitized to the extinguishing of a spark.

He knows the dangers of getting too close to anyone when you could lose them at any moment. Of course, he’s always been a friendly bot. Most Autobots favor him kindly and he always enjoys other’s company. But he doesn’t stick around long enough to actually get close. He’s a scout. Traveling across Cybertron, sneaking past enemy lines. He’s alone more than not. Perhaps the only true companion he has was the bot always checking in on him at the end of the mission, the one giving him the next orders, and seeking his unlikely advice. It was easier to get close to Optimus… he was less likely to get blown up in a random firefight and never come back.

Which only made his attraction to Breakdown more confusing. Breakdown was everything that Bumblebee tried to avoid: Reckless, foolish, thrill-seeking. Breakdown threw himself into fights he wasn’t likely to win for fun. Breakdown didn’t value his life quite as much as he should either.

They both were willing to gamble everything because neither of them had anything to lose. And that just made whatever they had that much more exciting

They didn’t see each other often. Years would pass before they could catch a glimpse of the other. It didn’t matter how long it had been… how many friends the other had lost… it was like their unspoken connection was the only true consistency in their lives. Sometimes Breakdown would give Bee information. Other times they would just play cards or race. Sometimes they wouldn’t have a chance to talk at all, being in the heat of battle surrounded by other bots.

They got pretty good at pulling punches and staging fights.

And then the war “ended” and Breakdown was nowhere to be found. Bumblebee would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. He should have known better… of course Breakdown would have run, all the Decepticons did. And Breakdown was still a decepticon.

He’s pretty confident Optimus knows about their friendship at this point… or at least has his suspicions. But Optimus had also pardoned the ex-leader of the Decepticons so Bumblebee doesn’t think he has much room to judge.

Being sent undercover for over a decade wasn’t the post-war future Bumblebee had planned for himself. He hadn’t envisioned it would take place on an alien organic planet either. He could still remember a time when he dreamed of retirement and maybe he’d take up a “normal” job like the ones Ironhide used to talk about. He always wondered if he’d be good at something more domestic… if maybe he would have an apartment of his own to return to each night instead of recharging at whatever outpost was closest after days without rest.

Now he views those as delusional fantasies. He’s not really sure who he is outside of his title of Autobot spy. He doesn’t think he can be anything besides a soldier. (A hero… according to some people)

He wasn’t sure if it was boredom that triggered his search for Breakdown or if maybe he was just looking for some kind of company (he was used to solitude but it had just been… so long) but somehow he ended up at nearly every race he caught wind of. It wasn’t desperation, certainly not… he just… had a lot of free time is all.

He got close a couple of times. Breakdown was changing his alt mode regularly, Bee was sure of it. But still every so often he’d catch a streak of blue and white. Breakdown had always been faster than him…

Bee considered himself great at adapting to any environment or situation that he would land himself in, but nothing could have prepared him for his latest assignment… Sparklingsitting…

Why Optimus had pulled him out of 15 years of hiding for something so… mundane? Bee could only begin to question. He was convinced it was a waste of time. Bee didn’t know the first thing about younglings, there hadn’t been any since… well… him. And that was a very long time ago.

But after a while he hated to admit he found them… endearing. It was almost nice… it felt like what he used to imagine a peaceful life would be like when he was still naive enough to think true peace was achievable.

And yet… something was still missing.

Bee assumed it was the thrill of the missions he longed for. Considering Optimus was dead-set on sidelining him… Bee decided to resume one of his personal missions…

And thats when he finally reunited with the only bot he could ever consider his best friend. They had been apart for longer periods before… but somehow this felt different. This could be a new start. The war was over.

And then he lost Breakdown again.

To the same humans to claimed to be their allies no less.

He didn’t care how it must’ve looked when he demanded Optimus give him a status report on Breakdown’s condition when he was brought in.

Bee only got a lecture on how he was cutting it too close by getting involved with a race he knew G.H.O.S.T. was planning to bust.

So no, he didn’t really care what Optimus would think when he broke Breakdown out of prison. And he was only slightly hurt when Breakdown drove off ignoring his pleas of assistance. It wasn’t Breakdown’s fight… he had no right to be upset.

Of course Breakdown came through in the end… he always has.

And so what if they started meeting up periodically to race and talk and forget about everything else for s little while. Even if the times Bee had fallen into recharge in his arms and woken up alone hurt more than he’d like to admit.

Breakdown was quick to remind him, they were still on opposite sided. They could still betray each other in a moments notice… they both still had nothing to lose.

Except… that wasn’t quite true anymore.

Bee was carrying.

At first he didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t even act like anything was different. A reaction he would later clarify was shock.

Then came the avoidance. The ticking time bomb until he had to do something about it was like a constant countdown in his head. He started seeking distractions. Lessons with the Terrans. Missions with Arcee. Drives with Breakdown. Anything to avoid thinking about the decisions he would need to make in the future. The very rapidly approaching future.

Breakdown was the first to know.

Looking back, Bee wished he had been able to break the news a little differently. He hadn’t intended to tell him that night at all… he wasn’t sure if he was ever planning on telling him period.

The reality of a sparkling was beginning to hit and for the first time in his life… Bumblebee couldn’t put himself at risk anymore.

And Breakdown was a risk.

It was supposed to be their last time… a chance to say goodbye, even if Breakdown didn’t know it. Instead in a moment of emotion, Bee accidentally let it slip.

He wasn’t expecting Breakdown to choose the path of caution too. To desperately pledge to stay by his side. To stop taking risks… to stop running… to finally face this emotion they’ve been dancing around for centuries

Bee almost felt guilty for assuming so negatively of the one bot he has ever loved, but then again Breakdown has never really done much to prove his loyalty besides never actually betraying him.

This was different though. This was their real new start. The desperation in Breakdown’s eyes, like he’d never seen before, was enough to prove it.

And he trusted Breakdown… because now they both had something to lose.

The hard part was convincing Optimus to do the same…

Bee is lucky he was always Prime’s favorite. Pretty sure any other bot could be charged with fraternizing with the enemy. And of course… the news didn’t go over very smoothly… Bee wasn’t expecting it to…

He’s grateful Breakdown survived to the end of the conversation, though there were a handful of blasters involved in the process.

But after the lectures and the disappointment and the numerous encounters of bots trying to convince Bumblebee to abandon whatever bond he had with Breakdown and allow the Autobots to assist in the Sparkling’s upbringing… Bee noticed for the first time just how hard BD was trying.

Breakdown never cared about what anyone thought of him. He never did things for the approval of others… so Bee knew it was his own decision when BD formerly defected from the Decepticons and took on the autobot mantel.

He’d never seen him more dedicated to anything before… and that’s when Bee knew. They were going to be okay.

He had only ever been a soldier before… he wasn’t sure if he was really cut out for this whole Carrier thing. Breakdown joked that the Terrans had been the trial run, and he had all the training he needed.

They both joked to avoid the spark numbing fear.

They had never experienced it before… not like this… the fear of losing.

Bee wasn’t sure when Breakdown became so… domestic. Sure, he still teased and flirted and ran his mouth. He still made bets he couldn’t win. But he also brought Bee his energon every morning, mixed exactly the way he liked it. And everytime Bee fell into recharge, he’d still be by his side when his optics opened again.

Bumblebee couldn’t help but be angry a little…

Why was he only now receiving this treatment? They’d known how they felt about each other for how long? How long had Bee tried to convince him to stay by his side?

But Breakdown didn’t need Bee’s anger to feel guilty. He barely felt deserving of the chances he’d been given long before this one.

And Bumblebee couldn’t bring himself to act on his anger… not when Breakdown was trying so hard for him.

For them.

Perhaps Bee’s dreams of peace weren’t so far off after all.

[sonicasura]

Okay. She might be a little flight/floating obsessed after her very brief stint as Ginryumon. She might have missed floating more than she cared to admit. She could fly.

Just not as Dracomon apparently.

“Young lady, get down from there!” The Autobot medic screeched when he noticed just what stunt Miko was recording for.

Chival took a deep breath and let go of the cave wall. The Autobot digimon flipped until she was facing straight down trying to replicate the urgency that had allowed her to digivolve… She only got about halfway to the ground when she had to shift to gliding to avoid Ratchet’s servo. Even with scolding on his glossa in cybertronian, Chival paid more attention to the lack of change in her form. She glided until she landed on the human kids’ couch.

The scolding passed through one ear hole and out the other as she was more forced on why she couldn’t replicate digivolving again. It had only been a day since Chival had managed to, well, transform. She recalled the thrum of energy which allowed her to become more. Digivolving was more than a mere power boost—her abilities had changed, alongside the instincts to use her new form’s base moves.

She even managed to lend her Sire those!

———————————

Skyquake had noticed Lord Megatron’s ruthlessness ever since managing to return to life. His spark still flickered a hit when he felt the heat of a laser blast skirt too close to his ever recovering frame. Truly, he was back where he belonged—wasn’t he? The Decepticons operated in a way he had not seen in ages.

All to take down six Autobots.

Megatron had legions of Vehicons, who contrary to his initial belief were gradually adapting to his regiments. The bulky seeker worked alongside Breakdown to account for the ground-framed clones full capabilities. Skyquake found a kindred spark in the broad frame albeit with some occasional differences in opinion. But, unlike most mechs—Breakdown did not shy away from settling things in a clash of servos or weapons! His kind of mech.

Yet the Vehicons were still being killed off in large numbers by the Autobots. Skyquake had adjusted and readjusted their training in an attempt to curb the sheer drop rate. Nothing ever seemed to be enough as numbers fell low. They had to keep pulling from the Vehicons in stasis to even out the Nemesis’ crew…

Lord Megatron was wasting resources.

Skyquake would heal, adapt, and rejoin the fight soon enough to turn the tides of the war.

(Breakdown was captured by humans and tortured for an extent. It was only by unexplainable intervention his optic was saved.)

(Decepticons fought to end the caste system.)

(Why were Vehicons miners? Why had he read reports of almost half a dozen still viable energon mines being blown up? Why weren’t more false signal traps being used to lure away the Autobots from their active mines—)

(Starscream—traitor that he was—held the helm for three years without any incidents.)

(Megatron did not return with an army. He raised the dead. He attempted to do the same to Cybertron right after he returned.)

(Megatron was controlled by Unicron briefly.

(Was this still worth fighting for?)

He.

He needed to train more.

Clear his processor.

(He knew what a flyer’s t-cog looked like.

Trypticon never returned from his failed attempt to raise the capital of Iacon.

…Warships don’t come from nowhere.)

Extra drills!

——————————

Dreadwing boarded the Nemesis flight deck to an impossible sight—his twin brother throwing himself helm first into sparring practice. The blue-framed Seeker nearly crashed into the deck, then did crash. Into his brother. In a very rare display of affection, Dreadwing wrapped his brother in a tight grip. The split spark bond between them finally snapping back together.

“How is this possible! I felt your spark die.” He demanded of his twin, anger covering up the extreme worry in this thrumming spark.

Skyquake remained silent for a moment before exventing extremely tiredly. “Circumstances beyond my knowledge aligned to allow my spark to persist after crashing in a blaze. I was reduced down to it for several planet rotations only to be spat back into my frame, brother.” He explained. “I did not mean to mislead you.”

Lol. You'll figure it out eventually Chival. Looks like Skyquake is having doubts about the Decepticons. Also I totally see Dreadwing hugging his brother as the bot being online was a miracle.

[saisons-en-enfer]

Personal mental health masterpost:

Hey, so I’m making this post to give some clarity into my situation for anyone that cares so there is a mutual understanding; especially because I tend to spiral in real-time on tumblr

Preface: I know this is my blog but I don’t want that to be a basis for my deflecting the responsibility of my own mental well being onto others and make people suffer because of it, especially because when I’m down I’m extremely avoidant, self-centred, and may be unintentionally callous (no I’m not just saying that lightly, I’ve been in so many situations on tumblr and IRL that I say something that is extremely insensitive but that wasn’t my intent leading to so many “sha you can’t say no one cares I’m talking to you/sitting here with you how can you say that”) and I need to also own up to that and admit that sometimes my feelings are false and my thought process is jagged

I’ve hurt someone that is really important to me on here multiple times over this and sadly but deservedly they will never be in my life again (though they will always be important to me). I don't want this to be an insincere "I'm sorry I was wrong, please forgive me" but rather to come clean and say that it has happened and I just want to make sure I take actions so that no one who cares about me on here will ever go through the same situation with me; I love the connections I have tumblr beyond words so it's time I act as such

The crux of my dilemma: as I'm sure you all know, I don't desire much to be alive for multiple reasons that I wont get into, and I cant really end my life because I am practically unable to inflict such harm onto other people just because I'm having a hard time. I have exhibited suicidal behaviours irl numerous times but each time I either went through it successfully with coping, asking for help (usually on tumblr), and if worse comes to worst asking to be hospitalized (which happened 6 months ago after I lost my job). It's complicated to talk about so feel free to send asks or DMs if you want to know more, I do exhibit suicidal behaviours on here (by talking or implying how much I don't want to be alive and saying that I'm in unbearable pain, both of which are true) but I seldom think I'm a danger to myself. I would say I have more suicidal ideations (henceforth SI) than behaviours.

I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 21, by 24 I was diagnosed with major depression (clinical) along with GAD, OCD (obsessive in negative thinking), later at 26 with ADHD, and, last year with a mood disorder (yet to be configured, consensus right now is that it is just very unstable mood)

The mood instability is important to highlight because I can pretty much show you days in which my posts go from cheery to mellow throughout the course of a single day.

Tumblr to me is a very personal and emotional scrapbook, when my mood crashes or i get triggered by something, and go on an SI spiral, first thing that happens is that i panic really hard especially because I get caught in the trap of "oh I have to live again tomorrow and experience all of this again and live my life with this mind" and when I'm in that trail of thought, shit goes south real fast and I start having physiological symptoms; I can't breathe properly, I get chills etc. so it's either I sit with those feelings by myself (because I'm not brave enough and trust many people IRL to seek help; something I'm working on) or, I release it onto here as posts. I know it's odd but in my mind having a breakdown in public (similar to my tumblr outbursts) is more helpful in that people either ignore you in which case you will have sense to know that there is none but yourself that can bring you up in which case you pull yourself together and move forward, or people do take notice and show kindness and support and help you fight your way through to see another day. Whatever the case, at least your not weeping alone so to speak. It sounds callous and even attention seeking but i don’t believe it’s inherently wrong, it’s a call for help.

The attention seeking part of it I concede my approach is terrible and I’m such an asshole for constantly firing from the hip with saying shit like “I don’t want to be alive, Im better off dead” and other things of the same ilk no matter how much I mean it and feel the depth of those words so closely. I will be better; when I’m emotional I’m not rational so I don’t do what I always do, step back and think am I approaching this person correctly. My cousin told me “if you’re having a hard time, than don’t say things like that to freak me out… say hey K I’m a bit sad today, I need a hug, I need some love, I need to get out of my head a little”

I'm taking mood stabilizers twice a day, whilst this has been deemed to be enough since I tend to have a strong outward facade and keep composed if my mood falters until I'm alone in my room and my interactions with people irl has been functional, I fear it's not enough and I may have to bring it up even though it means more meds (which btw coincidentally my mother just walked in my room reminding my of my next psychiatrist appointment soon). It's just very hard to bring up my tumblr behaviour up in therapy because as soon as I'm honest about my posting, they will just want to hospitalize me... it's not conceivable in most people's minds that yes I dont wish to be alive but I don't necessarily want to kill myself.

Which brings me to this part regarding my etiquette on tumblr:

All text posts pertaining to my mental health, should it imply SI I will tag as "SI posting"

I will NOT be tagging really sad songs as of now, but I can certainly do that if people would like me to

When I post something concerning you can choose to ignore me altogether if you'd like I will not hold it against anyone or be upset or fall prey to the line of thinking that "no one cares" because I know beyond a doubt that people actually DO care

If you do see such a post and want to help me genuinely, interacting with the post (like or comment or whatever) however small helps me so much and makes me feel so much less alone and gives me strength to push through

You can also start a conversation with me and talk about anything at all that also gets my mind off of things

I promise ill try my hardest to just ask for support instead of just posting extremely concerning text posts

EDIT: im also open and welcome any suggestions people may have on this matter and how I can be better

I keep my promises very seriously and just over a week ago I promised someone I really care about that I will try and be better and I very much intend to do that.

Thank you so much for patience and kindness and just not giving up on me when at times I've given you ample reasons to do so, I love you so much

Much love

[angeledunext]

IELTS Reading Test: How to Manage Your Time?

What is the IELTS Reading Test?

The IELTS Reading test is one of the four core modules of the IELTS exam and it’s designed to evaluate how well you can understand and interpret written English. If you're currently taking IELTS training in Ahmedabad or planning to, you'll need to tackle this section smartly. You'll face 40 questions across three sections, and the challenge? You’ve got only 60 minutes to read and answer everything—no extra time to transfer your answers.

Structure and Timing of the Test

You’ll be dealing with:

3 sections

40 questions

1 hour

That means roughly 20 minutes per section, but it’s not that simple—some sections are trickier than others. Let’s dive into how to crack this without running out of time.

Understanding the Challenge

Why Time Management is Crucial

Time is your biggest enemy in the IELTS Reading test. You might be great at understanding English, but if you don’t know how to pace yourself, you’ll leave questions unanswered. And guess what? Unanswered questions = lost points.

Common Mistakes Candidates Make

Reading everything word-for-word.

Spending too long on tricky questions.

Leaving the hardest section (usually Section 3) for last with too little time.

Not practicing under real test conditions.

Pre-Test Preparation

Build Strong Reading Habits

Start reading a variety of texts daily—magazines, academic journals, newspapers. The goal is to expose yourself to different writing styles. Try summarizing what you read to boost comprehension.

Improve Your Vocabulary

Unknown words slow you down. Learn word families and synonyms. Use tools like Quizlet or Anki to review vocabulary in chunks.

Practice with Timed Mock Tests

Simulate real exam conditions. Set a timer for 60 minutes and try to finish a full reading test without interruptions. This builds stamina and awareness of how fast you work.

Smart Time Management Strategies

The 20-20-20 Rule Breakdown

Split your 60 minutes like this:

Section 1: 15-17 minutes (easiest)

Section 2: 18-20 minutes

Section 3: 23-25 minutes (hardest)

Use any extra time to review. Don’t go over 20 minutes on the early sections.

Skimming and Scanning Techniques

Skimming = reading quickly to get the gist. Scanning = hunting for specific info (names, dates, numbers). Master both. They're your shortcuts to success.

Don’t Read Every Word – Here’s Why

You simply don’t have time. Focus on topic sentences and keywords. Reading every single word will cost you precious minutes—and possibly questions.

Focus on Keywords and Synonyms

The IELTS is sneaky. The question might use different words than the passage. Train yourself to recognize paraphrasing. Keywords are your guideposts.

Question Types and Time Tactics

Multiple Choice – Stay Sharp and Quick

Eliminate obviously wrong answers first. Don’t second-guess yourself too much. If stuck, circle the question and move on.

Matching Headings – Spot the Theme Fast

Skim the first few lines of each paragraph. The main idea usually lives there. Don’t get lost in details.

True/False/Not Given – Avoid Overthinking

Stick to what’s explicitly stated. “Not Given” trips many test-takers up—don’t assume or infer.

Sentence Completion – Watch for Clues

Use context and grammar to predict the right answer. Look for matching sentence structures and word forms.

How to Avoid Time Traps

Don’t Get Stuck on One Question

If you’re spending more than 90 seconds on one question—move on. Come back if there’s time.

Guess Smartly – There's No Negative Marking

There’s literally nothing to lose. If you don’t know the answer, take your best guess. Just don’t leave blanks.

Section-Wise Time Management

Section 1 – Easy and Quick Wins

Usually the simplest section. Aim to finish in 15-17 minutes. Use this time to build confidence.

Section 2 – Increase Focus

Getting trickier now. Be alert for complex sentence structures and slightly more advanced vocabulary.

Section 3 – Save Extra Time for This

This is where your comprehension skills are really tested. Dense text, abstract topics. Give yourself a buffer of 23-25 minutes here.

Mindset and Focus on Test Day

Stay Calm Under Pressure

Stress eats time. Take deep breaths and keep a cool head. Confidence saves minutes.

Keep Track of Time Without Panic

Use a wristwatch with a timer (if allowed). Check the clock after each section but don’t obsess over it.

Tools You Can Use

Use a Watch Wisely

Glance at your time every now and then—ideally after each section. Divide your time and stick to it like glue.

Highlight and Underline as You Read

Circle keywords. Underline dates, names, and numbers. It makes referring back way faster.

Conclusion

Time management in the IELTS Reading test isn’t just about going fast—it’s about being smart. Understand the format, practice strategically, and learn how to spot traps. Stick to your timing plan, use every minute wisely, and train yourself to stay calm under pressure. That clock ticking doesn’t have to be your enemy—it can be your rhythm.

FAQs

1. Can I bring a timer or stopwatch into the IELTS exam? No, digital timers aren't allowed. Use a traditional wristwatch with a second hand if permitted.

2. How many practice tests should I do before my IELTS exam? Aim for at least 5-7 full reading tests under timed conditions.

3. Are the texts in the Academic and General IELTS Reading tests the same? No. Academic is more complex and research-based, while General focuses on everyday contexts.

4. Should I answer the easy questions first? Yes! Grab those easy points quickly, then spend more time on difficult ones.

5. What if I run out of time and haven’t answered all questions? Guess! There's no penalty for wrong answers—leaving blanks is a guaranteed loss.

[dchuntress]

neg, tw, do not like

i might as well let this out since it feels like i'm talking to a wall all the time anyway

it just sucks when even killing myself doesn't even work. last week i had a breakdown SO bad i just impulsively drank up a whole thing of antiseptic disinfectant but then changed my mind about locking myself in the bathroom and let my family know what's up and like it was a whole thing. i told them about some of the things that were stressing me out deeply and what sort of help i needed from them and just how trapped and stressed out i feel, and they listened yes

i still ended up going and taking my exam instead of going to the hospital. literally just living on milk and prayers and hoping that the poison leaves my body before it gets too late for medical help. i didn't need medical help but while i was giving the exam all i could think about is how. even fucking trying to take my own life doesn't help. the one safety night, the one coping mechanism, the one equivalent i had of "okay my life sucks but at least i have one thing in my control and it's the fact that i can just press the exit button and stop dealing with everything forever" and even that didn't work. i was so sure i was going to die during the exam and i had mixed feelings. on one hand i was remembering my friends and my creative projects and on another hand i was just so mad at my school i wanted to die on their property so they shut down forever or something. pretty sure that's why i drank the savlon before my exam. i might not die immediately to avoid that exam i was dreading but i could at least punish my school for the insane stress they put on us

well it's been a week now and shit still sucks. and i don't even have the false comfort of "well at least i can always kill myself if this doesn't work" because nothing changed!! i almost died and came back and nothing changed!! everybody's pretending i'm fine and normal when i'm severely fucked in the head and suffocating!! that was my biggest cry for help and yet nothing changed!! why am i cornered from every direction why does everything suck

i literally have nothing going on for me. nobody cares about my niche interests spotify youtube games aren't distracting me enough and i just don't have the social energy to reach out to my friends or hold conversations or the spoons to do anything productive and just and the worst part of it all i still feel guilty and incompetent and lazy and morally evil because i'm still convinced my life could be Good if i just did something about it and even if i'm doing something about it and nothing's changing that simply means my efforts are all incorrect and have no value whatsoever and i'm going to have a broken terrible future

[jurassicparkpodcast]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous Season 2 | SPOILER Breakdown & Review

Be advised – this article contains heavy spoilers for the second season of Camp Cretaceous. Make sure to check out our non-spoiler review before you read this piece. If you’ve seen the entirety of Season Two, please feel free to read this review.

If you read my non-spoiler review of the second season of Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous, then you may have noted my choice to refer directly to coming back to the spoiler section for several bits of key information. That is primarily because the events of this second season take place at a previously un-documented timeframe – meaning everything which occurs is ‘new’ – even if it may have nods to earlier and latter parts of the timeline. 

With that said, we’re going to use this article to talk about some of the juicier parts of the second season of the show. Let’s dive in.

The key part to the second series of the show is the idea of the emergency beacon on Main Street being used by the kids to summon some help to the island – making their rescue a possibility. I enjoyed how the beacon was uncovered by the kids within the Jurassic World Inside Guide – a nice nod to some of the real documents like the Jurassic World Staff Book we have in the real-world. I also enjoyed how this sequence was used as an opportunity to explain how lots of technology may be hidden around the park as ‘nature’ – helping to retroactively explain how the park may have functioned without us even realising in Jurassic World. We also get to see the Jurassic World Discovery Walk (a new attraction!) during this segment, building out the park a little more, and also spend more time in T-Rex Kingdom, which was a welcome addition. This sequence also features a gut wrenching flashback – with Darius having a moment where Ben’s fall from the train in Season One is replaced with his dad falling. This was a heart wrenching moment – and really sets up the guilt arc which is a key driver for Darius throughout the second season. Of note is the fact that the beacon message does change from ‘Sent’ to ‘Received’ – something which is not touched upon again in the second season. This sets up a couple of interesting options for a third season – something which we will discuss in another article here on the website soon.

The next interesting element I wanted to talk about is the implementation of the veterinary area of the park in Episode Two. This was a fun opportunity to peak underneath the hood of the functioning Jurassic World a little bit more – seeing where sick animals may have been quarantined and treated. I particularly appreciated how the animals in cages here included a Parasaurolophus and Stegosaurus – a fun nod to the same animals being caged by Ludlow’s team in The Lost World: Jurassic Park. I loved the way Grim, Chaos and Limbo were introduced during this sequence – and also loved seeing them squaring off with the Stegosaurs, showing that sometimes predators would rather leave groups of Herbivores than pick a fight where they would be outnumbered. This is a nice nod to the real palaeontological understanding that herbivores moved in larger herds to protect them from predators. Kenji and Yaz also got some interesting development in Episode Two, too – and I feel like the first two episodes were some of the strongest in terms of the areas of the park they explored, and also the animal behaviours which they showed throughout the moments we spend with dinosaurs in these episodes. This is continued in Episode Three, however – which introduces us to the watering hole, and some fun accompanying lore to flesh out the behaviour of the dinosaurs in the series a little bit more. 

Episode Three introduces us to the watering hole – and is arguably my favourite episode because of the time it takes to really bring back the ‘natural beauty’ element of the dinosaurs and the environments in the Jurassic franchise. During these sequences we get some interesting bits of information – including Darius sharing that Doctor Grant stated that predators and prey may be able to co-exist at a watering hole if the right conditions were met. It is nice to hear Grant name dropped to remind us of the universe we are in, and this is a nice way of explaining the Ceratosaurus also at the watering hole. During this sequence the Ceratosaurus also encounters the kids but chooses to ignore them and walk off – a nice call-back to the more docile behaviour we see exhibited from this animal in Jurassic Park III.  Of note during this episode is the idea that the Stegosaurus has shed its plate as it has grown and rubbed itself against a tree – something which Sammy compares to modern-day animals, and we also see a Parasaurolophus inhabiting a river – calling back to where they were located in the park. Although we don’t get much of it in the latter parts of the season, the steps taken to really add to the dinosaurs behaviours in the earlier episodes feels rewarding and helps to flesh them out as natural animals in their own right. 

Another interesting note in this episode is the fact that Brooklynn, Sammy and Yaz revisit the genetics lab where Doctor Wu and Eddie were in Season One, to find it now stripped back and empty. This suggests that, much like we see in the film, Hoskins may have ordered his people to extract assets from across the island – which does then call into question some moments which occur later in the season. During this sequence the trio find a key card in an envelope – alongside a couple of pieces of paper which appear to contain information, potentially to do with E750’s genetics given the fact that this name is on the envelope. E750 is, if you remember, the ‘confidential’ folder we saw on Wu’s Computer in Season One – implying that this is something big. At the end of this episode we are also introduced to a campfire on the island – indicating that someone else is on the island. In Episode Four we learn that these people mercenary-type character of Hap, and two Ecotourists – Mitch and Tiff. Mitch’s character design is an overt Alan Grant reference – designed to make us feel as though we can trust him, whilst Hap feels more akin to someone like Dieter Stark. Over the course of this episode we learn a few interesting details – including the fact that the group’s boat is away refueling at Papagayo. Interestingly, this is a peninsula on the North Pacific Coast of Costa Rica – in keeping with the geography of the series. The episode ends with Hap chasing the kids after they tried to break into his yurt – only for them to be rescued at the last moment by Ben and an adult Bumpy.

Episode Five takes the time for us to explore how Ben survived – showing how he attempted to escape the jungle but inadvertently wondered into Toro’s nesting ground. This sequence is cool as it shows Toro has been hunting animals since the end of Season One – suggesting he has been taking his aggression out on Nublar’s other residents. At a couple of different moments here we see Compys surrounding Ben as he cowers – helping to create the similar sense of vulnerableness that we see in Cathy Bowman. Eventually, after snapping at Bumpy and finding himself on his own, Ben stands up to the Compys and decides to go and fight Toro. This leads to a cool sequence where Bumpy eventually saves Ben and fights Toro – although I do feel like here the kids show side of the series takes over a little bit more, as I can imagine a kid with a spear not being much of a problem for a fully grown Carnotaurus. With that said, seeing a fully grown Bumpy showdown with Toro was a nice call-back to the cut Sinoceratops vs Carnotaurus fight from Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom, and I was quite excited to see Toro back for an episode as I wasn’t sure we would see this animal again in the series. 

The next episode reveals why Tiff and Mitch are truly on the island – because they are Big Game Hunters. In the yurt which was off limits Darius finds a lot of hunting tools, including a bear trap, and brutally – the head of a Sinoceratops. I was genuinely shocked at how morbid this sequence was – and think this reinforces the idea that this isn’t purely a kids show. Whilst this was mainly implied as the whole head is not shown under the cover it has over it, it was enough to shock me. I really enjoyed this reveal as I didn’t expect it – I thought it would be easy for this to be Mantah Corp, but obviously, as The Lost World shows us, there will be people out there who want to hunt these animals for a challenge. Interestingly, Mitch justifies hunting them as preserving their memory, saying that the UN will soon forget and abandon the island. I appreciated this attempt from the writers to show how the character would justify his actions as it helps to make him slightly more compelling – even if I would argue that the writing for both characters is weak here. In this episode we also see the death of Hap – who stays behind to distract the pack of three Baryonyx so that Brooklynn and Kenji can escape on a motorbike following Ben’s rescue. This was an interesting moment as it is clear Hap was written to fit the ‘villain’ stereotype and then flip it. Interestingly enough we don’t see Hap die – so whilst surviving an attack from three Baryonyx is improbable, it is possible he could return. I would argue that he was the best of the three new characters introduced in the second season of the show. We end with Yaz, Darius and Sammy at the mercy of the pair of hunters – who now want Darius to show them the watering hole so they can kill more dinosaurs. This makes sense – but may have benefitted from being slightly more fleshed out in my opinion.

This idea carries over into Episode Seven – where Darius falsely leads the pair to main street in a desperate bid to escape. There is a really cool sequence on main street here where Darius and Sammy are avoiding the couple in a way which almost mimics the Velociraptor kitchen sequence from Jurassic Park  - with them moving from cover to cover in a slow fashion. Whilst this unfolds, Brooklynn, Kenji, Yaz and Ben find an emergency bunker when Brooklynn follows a hum she has heard throughout the series – pointing to something still being operational underground. The Bunker facility appears identical to the one which we see in Jurassic World Aftermath – which poses some interesting questions for where that latter entry slots into the story given what else unfolds here. We learn that this room connects to a room where a sample is cryogenically frozen – and Kenji inadvertently begins the process of awakening it. I enjoyed everything we saw on the computer screens on this sequence – including the location of the watering hole, which appears to be near Gyrosphere Valley. This then leads into the second sequence we get with the Tyrannosaurus Rex in this series – which is, unfortunately, a sequence which suffers from the necessity for plot armour to carry the antagonists through to the final episode. Rexy tries repeatedly to bite Tiff and Mitch and misses – allowing them to escape and eventually being distracted from Darius and Sammy by lights and sounds the rest of the crew activate in the command centre. Seeing Rexy unable to kill either Tiff or Mitch when they were out in the open is one of the moments which breaks the realism of the series, in my opinion – making it a little bit harder to accept at face value.

The finale starts with Tiff and Mitch heading to the watering hole whilst the rest of the kids attempt to stop them. During this sequence we get a brutal moment where Tiff kills Grim with a single shot – reminding us that this animals are not nearly as resilient as the Indominus Rex. This stood out to me as it reminded me how easy the dinosaurs which are rampaging during Jurassic World Dominion would be to deal with – implying that something more serious may happen to prevent authorities around the world from dealing with the animals so quickly. This moment really was brutal – as although Grim was technically an antagonist, the death had a similar effect to that of Zara, with it not feeling earned. Eventually the kids manage to stop Tiff and Mitch from killing any of the other animals – and both die in ways which homage different parts of the franchise. Mitch steps on his own snare and is eaten by the Tyrannosaurus Rex whilst hanging from a tree – a fun nod to the death of Cooper in JPIII who has a similar fate at the hands of the Velociraptors. Tiff, on the other hand, makes it onto her boat (which has been moored at the dock the whole time) – and makes it on in time to escape before the kids can get onboard. As she begins to sail away it is revealed that Limbo and Chaos have made it onboard – sealing her fate, and providing a moment of Karma for the brutal execution of Grim earlier in the episode. This also serves as a fun nod to the novel – where Velociraptors were able to board the Isla Nublar supply ships. This then ends with the kids practically in the same position as the end of Season One – which does, in some ways, negate the events of the second season as it feels as though no real progress occurs. 

Overall, there are some fun sequences in Season Two of Camp Cretaceous – but it feels as though there are less memorable moments than the first season, and many of them are over-exaggerated and therefore leave you questioning their realism within the canon. Whilst the show should be granted additional freedom due to its target demographic, this undoubtedly is a canonical piece – and I feel like the second season pushed the boundaries of being a canonical entry in the series a little bit too far at times. Whilst some sequences, like a stampede sequence in Episode Seven and the Baryonyx attack in Episode Two feel well executed, other sequences, like the chase in Episode Six, feel a little bit too extreme. With that said, I think kids are definitely going to love these set pieces, so I can look past them for the impact they may have on younger fans. 

I also didn’t enjoy the lack of any presence for Mantah Corp in Season Two. Whilst I appreciated Mitch and Tiff not being agents of the organisation, as that would’ve been easy to do, I do think that having some kind of reference – whether it be another drone, or mention of another boat off shore – would have been a nice way of tying in the fact that Mantah Corp are still an active threat in this universe. Whilst I have no doubt that they will return in the future, the complete lack to acknowledge them beyond Brooklynn and Sammy name-dropping them a couple of times did seem like a shame considering the focus that was placed on season one. The issue which irked me most, however, is probably that of E750 – which is being thawed out. We will have a separate video speculating what this could be, but my biggest issue is how this sits within the canon. As per JWFK and Jurassic World Aftermath, we know that teams were sent back to recover assets and extract them off of the island – so if E750 was such a big project for Wu, then why did he leave it on the island? This makes little sense to me right now and is, in my opinion, one of the bigger issues with retrospectively building this mystery specimen into the Jurassic timeline.

With these issues highlighted, I think Season Two of Camp Cretaceous was good, but it fails to follow-up on some of the more interesting parts of the first season, and strays a little close to the boundaries of the pre-established canon present in the universe. Whilst I appreciate it is a kids show, and I can allow more due to this, I do feel like the E750 storyline has the potential to raise more questions about the rest of the lore, depending on the direction it takes – and this is a problem which can occur when retroactively building a multi-media timeline. I am interested to see how this unfolds in a third season – and I do wonder how much more we can explore on Nublar before it begins to feel stagnant. There is certainly more of the island I would like to see and explore – so I hope we get to do this in future instalments. 

I think it is fair to say I enjoyed the second season of the show – but, perhaps not as much as I did the first season, which I felt gave a little more to adult fans and those of us more familiar with the lore. With that said, I would love to hear from you! Let me know what you thought of Season Two in the comments below, and stay tuned for more Camp Cretaceous content on The Jurassic Park Podcast in the near future.

Written by: Tom Fishenden

[panharmonium]

more scattered naruto thoughts now that we’ve finished season 8 -

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten up to the end of season 8 (after pain destroys the hidden leaf village).  i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

- i like the way S8 ended.  i know that in real life maybe it wouldn’t be so feasible to just talk your enemy back to the light, but honestly, i don’t care.  i love that shit.  i love stories when people refuse to hurt the people who hurt them first, and then their seemingly inconceivable choice to refrain from striking back creates a connection (it’s the ‘return of the jedi’ effect, folks).  i understand that it doesn’t work like that in real life most of the time, and i don’t recommend it for real life people trying to defend themselves, but i do love it in fiction.  i LOVED how naruto went in pursuit of nagato to talk to him, not fight him.  even though naruto says straight-up “i can’t forgive you” / “I want to kill you so badly i can’t stop shaking” - he still recognizes that his enemy is someone who’s been victimized, and he has enough compassion to feel pain on their behalf even when he himself is reeling from having his entire home destroyed and both of his teachers murdered by the person he’s confronting.  his choice to control his (valid) rage and extend a hand in compassion is ultimately what changes the outcome and saves everyone who would have died, reversing the damage that was done, and i love that shit.  

- absolutely adore yamato abandoning his own mission and taking off at a run to try and help naruto when he senses that naruto is losing control over the nine-tails.  this man thought he was just a substitute teacher for a while there, but he’s become part of the family while he wasn’t looking.

- HINATA.  oh my god i couldn’t even enjoy this incredible moment because i was so stressed out (and angry, at the time, because i really thought they were going to kill her, and that would’ve crossed my line).  i want to watch this again knowing that she’s fine, because my anxiety over ‘fuck fuck fuck they’re actually going to kill one of the kids’ precluded me from even appreciating it appropriately.

- there’s been a lot of talk on this show about how sakura doesn’t have as much chakra as naruto or sasuke, but she heals people non-stop the entire time Pain is attacking and doesn’t show any signs of running dry.  SHOW HER SOME RESPECT.

- CHOOOOOOOOJIIIIIIII!  omg.  i was so afraid that his father was actually dead, and SO RELIEVED that he was okay.  you can’t do that to choji!!!

- also relatedly, how much do i adore choji for caring so much about kakashi?  <333 i mean this kid is there sobbing over his dead body, and then he bursts out crying when kakashi comes back to life - i really appreciate these little ties between characters who aren’t always in close quarters but who do have a relationship.  kakashi has been a teacher to ALL of the kids, and team 10 especially feels indebted to him - the respect and affection they all feel for him is very real.

- first time i actually thought ‘ok he’s cool’ with regard to minato was when he talked to the nine-tails so unfazed like “he’s a loudmouth.  let’s go somewhere more quiet.’  i’ve been kind of so-so on his character so far, but i liked this.  

- also later in that scene - the (rare) scenes we’ve seen where naruto totally breaks down absolutely kill me.  it happened once when gaara was dead, and then there’s another moment in this episode when he’s talking to minato - whoever voices him does just incredible work in those moments, and it is SO PAINFUL to me because naruto is always such a happy kid the rest of the time and eternally optimistic and positive and excited and popping back up every time he falls down, and so when he cracks it is just devastating to see.  i hate seeing him cry like that.

- similarly - that shot of sasuke at the end of the itachi arc wrecked me.  naruto’s breakdowns are upsetting, but at least he allows himself to have them - when he gets pushed past a breaking point, he explodes.  he cries and yells and spills every single thought in his head in front of everybody who’s around him, and after it’s done, things get better.  he’s with people who care about him.  he’s venting and making himself understood, and he always finds his equilibrium again.

sasuke, though, has been completely locked down ever since we saw him sneak out of the hospital to wander around the scene of his community’s mass murder, and he’s still locked down now, even crying all alone at the edge of the ocean.  this moment isn’t cathartic.  it isn’t a release.  this is barely even a sliver of what this kid has going on inside him, and it looks like it’s agonizing for him to even let that much out.

- the scene where naruto is about to give up and give in to the nine-tails’s power...that exchange!!!!!!!

i don’t know.  it hurts.  i hate this.  i don’t know.  what should i do.  i don’t know anything anymore.  someone...please help me.  give me...an answer.

destroy everything.  erase anything that causes you pain.  give me your soul, your spirit, your vital essence.  give it to me, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain.

this whole exchange is amazing.  the way naruto says ‘it hurts’...this is one of those scenes that expands to cover so much more ground than just what’s onscreen at that moment.  what naruto overcomes here is precisely the trap that sasuke has not been able to escape.  sasuke has never had any framework for dealing with pain that isn’t about pursuing vengeance.  it’s the only way he thinks he can free himself from his pain - by putting all of his energy into destroying the people who hurt him.  

but it becomes an endless cycle, because he never succeeds.  itachi dies and sasuke feels worse than ever, so he turns his attention to the hidden leaf in an attempt to finally kill what’s hurting him.  but even if sasuke were to raze the entire village to the ground, his pain would still be with him, and he’d then have to turn his attention to yet another target, because the alternative would be to recognize that he can’t escape his pain by destroying the things that hurt him, and that’s not something he’s able to accept right now.  he’s spent half his life fixated on the idea that revenge can rescue him from how terrible he feels, and abandoning that idea now would mean that nothing can save him.  it would mean that he’s going to hurt like this no matter what he does.  

kakashi tried to warn him about this.  he tried to tell sasuke that even after getting his revenge, sasuke wouldn’t feel better, that he’d only tear himself apart trying to achieve something that would leave him feeling empty - but sasuke was too entrenched in his own warped thinking to believe it.  and ever since then, sasuke has been in the company of people who are happy to let him dig himself deeper and deeper into a self-destructive hole as long as it benefits their agenda.  they don’t care if he’s hurting himself.  they’re happy to see him suffering.  his pain is a tool they can use.

- a note re: kakashi, when it comes to this topic - 

i think it’s relevant to remember that kakashi never tells sasuke not to pursue revenge because it’s “wrong” or ethically questionable.  he never delivers any moralizing speeches in the vein of “if you kill someone who victimized you, you’re just as bad as they are.”  kakashi doesn’t think it’s wrong if itachi dies, and if sasuke were in a better state of mind, he probably wouldn’t even mind if sasuke were the one to kill him.  that’s why kakashi is comfortable helping team 10 pursue asuma’s killers, after all - because they’re not unbalanced by rage or making self-destructive decisions; they’re acting with clear heads and pursuing a course of action that needs to be taken anyway (asuma’s murderers are on their way to the leaf to capture naruto - they need to be dealt with regardless).  team 10′s kids can handle that mission - they’re thinking straight.  they’re comfortable accepting adult guidance.  they’re grieving, but they’re okay. 

sasuke is not.  sasuke has been deeply traumatized since he was a very young child, and encouraging his quest for vengeance is equivalent to validating all of the fucked-up thought patterns that are hurting him so badly - that it was his responsibility (as a seven year-old child) to protect his clan, that he was weak and cowardly for running away, that he needs to take itachi down as penance for failing to save his family, that killing itachi is the only way for him to justify his childhood survival, that killing itachi will free him from his pain.  for kakashi to encourage any of these false convictions would be irresponsible and, ultimately, harmful to the child he’s supposed to be looking after.  if sasuke gets his revenge on itachi, he’s just going to be left with the horrifying realization that his pain hasn’t lessened even the slightest bit, except that now he also has to deal with the additional trauma of killing someone he used to love. 

kakashi doesn’t discourage sasuke from revenge because Revenge Is Morally Bad and You Are Morally Bad For Pursuing It; he discourages sasuke from revenge because in this particular case, sasuke’s fixation on revenge is hurting him.  it’s unhealthy for him, and it will cause him worse pain in the future if he allows it to continue driving his life.  sasuke is never going to feel better if he doesn’t stop distracting himself from his pain by focusing solely on vengeance.  if he’s ever going to actually be rescued from his pain, he needs to face (and FEEL!!!) his grief, which is precisely what staying fixated on revenge allows him to avoid.

- relatedly: i just.  am SO sick.  of all these horrible people.  getting their hands on sasuke.  and using him for their own ends.  when he has already been manipulated and victimized all his life.  it makes me wanna SCREAM!!!!  and i know that’s the point; we are supposed to be frustrated by this - but - hrnghghgnh

and like - it’s not like sasuke doesn’t know it’s happening!  he’s not stupid!  he knows the people around him are using him, and he just tries to use them back and play them before they play him, and he accepts that this is what his life is going to look like, and because he survives, he thinks he’s in control, but he has NO IDEA how far over his head he’s in now.  and besides, he never stops to think that maybe his life shouldn’t look like this.  he has no conception of ‘someone should be taking care of me.’  he’s never seen himself as a child who needs protection - he’s never seen himself as a child, period.  it’s why he’s such a brat to the other kids, and it’s why he never calls kakashi ‘sensei.’  he thinks of himself as an adult.  he has adult problems.  he can’t connect to children his own age because he can’t connect to the idea of childhood - his childhood was stolen from him, and with it went any conception of refuge or safety or the fact that relentless self-sufficiency and a constant cycle of using/being used by other people isn’t in fact what his life is supposed to look like.

i am continually infuriated by all of these people who have abdicated their responsibility as adults and chosen to exploit an already exploited kid, one who is too messed up to save himself or let anybody else help him.  none of these people care about him.  they all want to use him for something.  they’re happy he’s in pain, because his pain is what enables them to manipulate him.

the people who DO truly want to help him are the same people he’s desperately trying to avoid.  the only adult sasuke ever had a meaningful and non-manipulative relationship with is the same adult he keeps running away from.  and the only two people his own age who ever actually knew anything about him or cared if he was okay are the two people he keeps pushing away. 

there is, perhaps, a lot to be said about how sasuke continually runs away from the people who actually care about him and instead affiliates himself with people he’ll never have to worry about forming a connection with.  “having too many ties in this world just holds you back” - sure, and having no ties protects you, too.  nobody to love you, nobody to know you, nobody you can ever lose.

[only-by-the-stars]

the annotated Tome of the Wild

Part five: Babes in the Wood!

- A half-moon the color of yellowed pages hung high in the sky above the figures on the ground OH LOOK IT’S THAT SAME DAMN MOON AGAIN. DESPITE THAT DAYS HAVE GONE BY AND IT DEFINITELY WOULDN’T LOOK THE SAME AT THIS POINT.

- “Idiot child. Perhaps I should've done something to make you more intelligent, instead of just transforming your body.” And here we have confirmation that it was Koume that changed her into this.

- Of course, the centerpiece of this scene is the reveal of what Midna’s been up to this whole time. In the show, the situation for Beatrice is similar: she thought that Adelaide just wanted a couple of kids to do household chores, and was fine with just turning them over to her in exchange for the item she needed to break her and her family’s curse. Until, of course, she grew to like them and have second thoughts, as Midna does here. Which of course lines up with how Midna initially thought to just use Link in TP to help herself and her people, until his actions and Zelda’s made her reconsider her disdain for the people of the world of light. Here it’s her bond with Aryll and Link that makes her hesitate to hand them over: she really likes Aryll, and after a rough start with Link they’re now getting along, and she feels a lot of sympathy for his situation with Mipha. She doesn’t want to keep them from getting home even for a little while, and when she finds out about Koume’s true intentions she draws the line, as her moral code won’t let her hurt others for her own sake and she knows Zelda wouldn’t want her to hurt anyone on her behalf either. This conflict and growth are exactly why I had an easy time casting Midna in this role, and I loved being able to write her and develop the dynamics she has with Link and Aryll.

- “Only the voice of the shadow that lurks in the woods, the king of darkness that rules the night, concerns me...” King of Darkness is one of Ganon’s titles in the series.

- “There is only his way.” A line that will be echoed by the Beast himself much later.

- “Aryll, I know!” Link froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. We’re at the point where Link is snapping at his beloved baby sister, showing just how stressed out he is right now. He was able to relax more when Midna was around, but now her betrayal is driving him further along that path to despair I’ve been mentioning. He immediately apologizes, to his credit, but he’s still starting to crack.

- “You are in grave peril, and your fate, your very lives depend on if you heed my words or not! The Beast stalks you, seeking your fall into his grasp... but you must not allow him to capture you, you must not give in to despair!” He’s not wrong! Listen to him!

- The shadow laughed, a long, low sound that seemed to ooze up from the deepest depths of the earth where eldritch creatures slumbered, forgotten by time and the gods alike. Calamity Ganon emerges from deep beneath Hyrule Castle.

- “You forget, do you not, that your daughter's safety depends upon keeping me happy?” The first hint of the deception that the Beast is working on Rhoam.

- Aryll is now calling her frog Alfonzo, after the engineer in Spirit Tracks.

- AND THEN THERE’S NAYRU AND KOTAKE. This was one of the most FUN things I got to play with. The episode this portion is an adaptation of is probably my favorite in the show, and I had an utter blast toying with expectations here just as the show did. Maybe even more! The show leads you to believe that the character Kotake replaces is the sinister and evil one, preying on the hapless young girl that Nayru is replacing, only to yank the rug out from under you and reveal that the girl is possessed and trying to eat the brothers.

now, Nayru is from Oracle of Ages. You meet her at the beginning, whereupon she quickly becomes possessed by the evil sorceress Veran. Kotake, meanwhile, is present as a villain in OOT and a linked Oracle game, and as a friendly shopkeeper in Majora’s Mask. We just saw the villainous version of her sister at the beginning of this chapter. So... is she evil too? If you’ve never seen the show, have played OOT and MM but not the Oracle games, you probably got taken in just like a first time viewer of the show is. Only to find out too late, as does Link, that Nayru is the people-eating one, and not Kotake, who is indeed her MM self and not evil.

- Nayru laughed too, a pleasant sound reminiscent of harp strings being played. Nayru gives Link the Harp of Ages in OOA.

- Aryll has switched the frog’s name to Dr. Calip, after the NPC in BOTW who gives you the Cursed Statue shrine quest.

- “It is thanks to you that I shall finally be free to roam the outside world, after all.” DANGER DANGER, the evil spirit wants to roam free and EAT MORE PEOPLE.

- Aryll spots the danger, but mistakes it for her desire to see Link end up with Mipha and no one else. Which we all agree with, of course, but it’s not the real reason she’s uncomfortable. Link, meanwhile, is oblivious to it, at least partially because he’s sinking deeper into despair and contemplating just letting Mipha go out of his intensifying self-hatred over what he’s done to her.

- Nayru's eager whisper broke into his thoughts. He glanced up and saw her eyes gleaming with a sort of hunger as she gazed across the room at him. DANGER DANGER, SHE WANTS TO DEVOUR YOU. Again, I choose my descriptive words very deliberately.

- Eerie purple light glowed around Nayru as she hovered in the air, and her face had been twisted into something that resembled a ReDead mask. Veran’s spirit form is indeed purple, and nobody who’s ever played OOT, MM, or WW can forget the ReDeads. my favorite monster I want them back dammit

- “Link?” Aryll pressed herself against his side and clutched at his arm. “There are a lot of skeletons in here...” Remember how Aryll was so excited about digging up a single skeleton back in Ikana? Not so fun anymore.

- In the show, the whole sequence of trying to avoid being eaten was creepy, but a bit more comedic too. I leaned fully into the horror that it truly would be here, not just because I wanted to write something scary, but also because I needed something that would traumatize Link enough to push him into the breakdown he has in the woods afterwards, setting the climax of the story in motion. His feelings of failure mirror what I headcanon he must’ve been going through just before he fell in Blatchery Plain as well, the despair he would’ve felt over being unable to prevent the fall of the kingdom, the deaths of his friends (especially Mipha, who he’s grieving the most), and knowing that he’s at his limit and about to die before he can get Zelda to safety. Which is another way that the appearance of that painting in the last chapter ties in.

- Aryll’s dream sequence! OH BOY. In the show, this is an entire episode, done in the style of 1930s animation, with musical numbers and everything. That doesn’t quite translate to prose, though, so I had to change and abridge it. More interestingly, though, there’s subtle hints in the show that the dream is not real, and is intended to lure Greg, the younger brother, into the clutches of the Beast. I decided to run with that. One of the hints in the show is that the gates you see seem to be made of ivory; in Greek myth, dreams pass through one of two gates, either horn or ivory. True dreams come through the gates of horn, while false ones pass through the gates of ivory. So naturally Aryll walks through gates of ivory to reach the tower.

The tower itself is the one located in the Cloud Tops in Minish Cap. Which, here, is ruled by Princess Hilda from Link Between Worlds, who has Aryll save her kingdom from the evil Yuga. This is all a HUGE hint that this is false, a trap. Because in ALBW, Hilda was conspiring with Yuga in a desperate bid to save Lorule. And who took over Yuga’s body as part of that plan? Ganon. BAM.

- And now the frog is being called Ezlo, after the talking cap in Minish Cap.

- Link is now so deeply in despair that the dekuwood is starting to grow around him, which is what motivates Aryll to make her deal with the Beast that brings everything to its eventual conclusion.

- A dark shape emerged from the curtain of snow; it was a small, plump man with a beard that covered the entire lower half of his face, rowing a rickety little boat. His eyebrows went up as he took in the sight of Midna lifting the unconscious Link into the air with her prehensile hair. “That is one strange fish you've caught there, missy...” This is the fisherman from Link’s Awakening.

- What Midna sees in the distance is the Great Deku Tree, but I wasn’t about to reveal that just yet.

and that does it for part five!

[daringyounggrayson]

Summary: After Jason dies and before he comes back, he spends his days tethered to Bruce as a ghost. Being dead has given him the ability to sense when people are about to die, something he feels is pointless as it has yet to help him to save any of the soon-to-be victims. But he finds a renewed sense of determination to prevent the inevitable when Dick starts making Jason's death-sense go haywire.

-------

Being dead, Jason has learned, means that he can sense death. He can always tell when someone is about to die; usually a victim on the streets, already in the process of dying, but he can tell even before they get hit. It’s not so much that a dark cloud looms over them, but Jason can feel it in his gut (well, where his gut used to be), and it’s never wrong.

Jason isn’t sure how quickly the death-sense turns on, though. So far, everyone who’s had it has had it when Jason met them. The longest he’s seen someone with it was a couple of hours, but that’s not much to go on. It might turn on only when the universe or whoever is certain that the person is a goner, or maybe once a decision is made leading up to a certain death, or maybe it’s a standard two-week notice, or, or, or. It doesn’t matter, though, because no matter how much time Jason theoretical had until the countdown ended, there’s nothing he can do to help—he’s tried, but even if he could be an active being in this world again, once the death-sense is activated, it’s too late for any sort of intervention, paranormal or otherwise. He’s hovered above Batman’s shoulder as the man watched paramedics fail to save too many victims to know that much.

It’s upsetting, being an all-death-knowing being, but at least when things get rough, he can always look to Bruce and literally tell if he’ll make it. Jason isn’t sure what will happen to him if Bruce dies. He seems to be tethered to him; if Bruce dies, then perhaps he would turn into a ghost too and they could at least have each other, or maybe Jason would finally pass on or whatever. He’s not sure he likes either option very much, so lucky for him, Bruce has never activated the death-sense.

Dick, on the other hand, has. 

Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut!

Jason gasped when he saw it—a human reflex that hadn’t yet died off. When Dick showed up at the manor a couple of hours ago, the death-sense was screaming at Jason. He had hovered close to Dick, trying to find an injury that wasn’t—and still isn’t—there. Normally, Jason would avoid getting close to people like that because his closeness makes everyone but Bruce shiver. Dick shivered, as expected, but he adjusted to the temperature fluctuation faster than Jason knew he should have. He’s still not quite sure what to make of that.

He spends the evening anxiously hovering close to Dick. Wherever Dick goes, Jason follows. He watches him eat and waits for him to choke (he doesn’t), he watches him train and waits for him to fall and break his neck (he doesn’t), he follows him on patrol and waits for him to get shot (he doesn’t). Jason can’t focus on anything that Dick is actually doing at the manor—what he’s talking about, what he’s planning on doing—because the death-sense is covering all of his other senses. He wonders if this is especially intense because of his connection to Dick, or if this is going to be really, really bad.

When three days pass and Dick, still alive, heads home, Jason goes back to hovering around Bruce. He seems to relax with Jason’s presence, which makes Jason realize two things: one, he’s never been apart from Bruce that long, and two, perhaps he does have more influence—positive influence—on people than he thought.

Bruce never gets a phone call asking him to come in to identify a body, so Jason takes that as a sign that Dick wasn’t hit by a car on the way back to Bludhaven. Dick calls Bruce later that week, proving that he’s still alive, but even his voice makes Jason’s death-sense go off, telling him that not even Dick could defeat it. This is when Jason becomes convinced that Dick has some kind of terminal illness.

When Bruce and Alfred are asleep, Jason goes down to the cave to take a look through medial files. He doesn’t find anything, meaning that he probably hadn’t missed Dick telling Bruce that he was diagnosed with something terminal, which is good. But it could mean, probably means, that Dick himself doesn’t know. He’ll need blood samples, maybe some scans, but Jason really doesn’t see how he can do anything like that without a body. And after all, Dick doesn’t seem like the type of person who will sit still while a needle starts floating toward his vein.

The only way to save Dick, then, is to get a message to Bruce. He’s tried before, shortly after he became a ghost. There had been a long internal debate about it: Would Bruce believe Jason had actually turned into a ghost, or would it just make Bruce think that he was going insane? Would knowledge of his ghostly presence help or hurt?

When Jason kept re-living (re-dying?) his death, he gave up trying to protect Bruce from diving deeper into a mental breakdown and tried to get his attention. It hadn’t worked. He’d knocked over some books, which had made Bruce look near him, but not at him. Jason wouldn’t get any comfort from Bruce like this; he’d have to work out his problems on his own, just like before.

The only way to save Dick, then, is to get a message to Bruce. He’s tried before, shortly after he became a ghost. There had been a long internal debate about it: Would Bruce believe Jason had actually turned into a ghost, or would it just make Bruce think that he was going insane? Would knowledge of his ghostly presence help or hurt? 

At first, he thought it was best to play it safe. But when he started re-living (re-dying?) his death, he gave up trying to protect Bruce from diving deeper into a mental breakdown and tried to get his attention. It hadn’t worked. He’d knocked over some books, which had made Bruce look near him, but not at him. Jason wouldn’t get any comfort from Bruce like this; he’d have to work out his problems on his own, just like before.

That was then, though, and now he has three months of ghost-experience and new skills to show for it. He has more control when he picks up objects, he's regained the fine motor skills needed to type—and probably write, though he hasn’t tried—so why not the ability to leave a message? The real trick will be how to leave an anonymous message that Bruce will both believe and not take as a threat.

Jason—or Dick, rather—doesn't have time to really think his plan through. So, he settles on pretending to send Bruce an email from one of Dick’s concerned “friends.” Sure, it's something Bruce will easily be able to prove false but it's a start. It's something.

Or it should have been. Unfortunately for all parties involved, the reality Jason finds himself trapped in decides to make things harder by doing the following: When Jason starts typing his message, his hands go through the keyboard. He tries again and again with no use. He takes a breath and tries to use the mouse, which works just fine. He opens a new google tab and smashes the keyboard, watching as the letters show up in the search bar. He repeats the process in the email he started, and it works again. He deletes the nonsense string of letters and begins to type his message again—only for his hands to go through the keyboard.

He frowns; if the veil or the universe or whatever isn’t going to let him communicate with the living, then being able to interact with inanimate objects is kind of useless. Still, maybe a less direct method is worth a shot.

He goes up to the library and collects a stack of books. He's able to pick them up with ease, but when he tries to arrange the books in a shape that resembles letters, the stack slides through his arms and crashes onto the floor. He lets out a frustrated scream and puts his face in his hands. He lets himself slide to the ground on his hands and knees, angry tears hot against his cheeks as if he's still alive. He wonders for a moment if he isn’t actually dead; just cursed. Invisible and unable to communicate, forced to watch people die—his loved ones die—and unable to warn anyone of the upcoming danger. He really wishes Bruce could see him, even if only for a minute.

(Jason takes a break from his mission after that. He finds Bruce and clings to him, and it feels like Bruce tilts his head forward against Jason’s. They both relax, and even though Jason knows he doesn’t need to breathe, he starts counting breaths the way Bruce had taught him to do when he felt anxious before he died.)

With his previous attempts proving to be failures, Jason only has one option left, and it’s drastic: possession. He isn’t sure if it’s something ghosts are actually capable of, or if it’s just in the movies, but he has to try, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. The only flaw in this plan is that he has no idea how to start. Perfect.

oOo

Possession turns out to be the worst idea Jason has ever come up with. After having no luck with Bruce—only succeeding at walking through Bruce, or occasionally not being able to pass through him at all (which—what? Jason still doesn’t know what to think about that)—he decides to try Alfred. Unlike Dick, Alfred doesn’t adjust to the temperature fluctuation; actually, he gets getting gradually worse. Each time Jason passes through Alfred, he shivers more violently and for longer than the time before. Alfred makes some tea and put on the fire, but neither help. Jason quickly realizes that trying to possess Alfred is useless, but with how desperate he’s become, he can’t get himself to stop until passing through Alfred makes the older man hiss in pain and clutch his chest.

Jason retreats to his old bedroom after that, hiding under the covers as if he isn’t the monster he’s trying to hide from.

oOo

Dick’s back at the manor about a week after the failed messaging attempts started. He’s arguing with Bruce about something Jason can’t understand, and the death-sense is going even crazier now. It’s giving Jason a headache, something he didn’t realize he could still get. He wishes he could sleep, but he hasn’t been able to do that since before.

Dick seems healthy, though, which doesn’t make sense, because when the death-sense is this strong, the victim is usually bleeding out. But Dick is fine, keeping up with Bruce and seeming more or less like himself, albeit his angry self.

Eventually, the two become quiet and Bruce stalks off. Dick looks up at the ceiling, sighing loudly while running a hand through his hair, and then heads to the changing area to find Bruce. When they come back, they’re in their uniforms and clambering into the Batmobile, bickering replaced by a stony silence.

oOo

Patrol isn’t patrol. It’s a mission, probably what Dick was arguing about. Jason knows that Bruce is recovering from an injury, and that he’s been spending a lot of time on the computer instead of sleeping. Whatever’s happening is big, and Dick must not think trying to take it down now is a good idea, either because of the timing, lack of information, or Bruce not being at the top of his game—probably all three.

Damn, Jason really wishes he’d been able to pay attention to what they were talking about.

oOo

The explosion makes Jason cling to Bruce, and he swears for a second that Bruce clings back. He’s fine, of course, and Bruce isn’t fine, but he’s sturdy. He gets up.

Dick, though, isn’t as lucky. There’s a pole running straight through his stomach and blood dripping down the back of his neck from a head wound. Somehow, he’s still alive, but Jason knows this is it. This is why his death-sense has been going off for the past two weeks, why it got ten times stronger tonight. And knowing finally makes the fog clear, and Jason can understand human speech again.

“B-Bruce,” Dick stutters. His hands are shaking, eyes glued to the pole.

Bruce is filled with fear; reminiscent of the kind Jason saw when Bruce found his body buried under rubble.

“I’m right here,” Bruce tells him, hovering over him for only a moment before he starts taking vitals. “You’re going to be alright. I’m going to radio the Watchtower for a medical evac.”

Bruce does as he promised, all while Jason watches in horror as the scene plays out in front of him. Bruce, yelling into the comm and reporting the incident and Dick’s vitals. A medical team, a group of strangers who come out of nowhere, sawing the pole down enough so it’s still holding Dick’s insides inside but so they can move him. Dick, clinging to Bruce the way Jason’s ghost did when he first died. Bruce, reassuring Dick that the inevitable won’t happen tonight.

Jason feels like he shouldn’t be here, but he can’t be anywhere else either.

He clings to Dick because that’s all he can do, and Dick doesn’t shiver.

oOo

The paramedics treat Dick quickly and precisely. They put gauze on the head wound and around the pole, they put him in a neck brace and some other kind of brace to support his back. They ask him questions and carefully move him onto a gurney. It’s scary, especially knowing that it’s no use.

Dick is taken into a treatment room as soon as they get to the Watchtower’s medical bay, and Bruce and Jason follow, Jason still clinging to Dick and Bruce holding his hand tightly.

“It should hurt,” Dick is saying, and he’s right, he should be screaming right now, crying, anything other than this distant stillness. “It should, right? Why can’t I feel it?”

Bruce just squeezes Dick’s hand and exchanges a look with the head doctor. Everyone knows Dick isn’t going to make it; instead, they’re going to make him comfortable, or at least try to.

But they still do their best to try to help Dick, to prevent the inevitable. They do scans and make a plan, and Alfred finally arrives when they’re in the middle of sticking needles into Dick, setting him up with an IV full of saline and some type of medicine. They tell him it will make him sleepy.

“Can I go back with him?” Bruce asks, desperate. He seems to be teetering between facing the reality of the situation and clinging to the make-believe world where he himself can will Dick to survive.

The doctor nods. “Go scrub up. You know where to go?”

“Yes.” He looks at Dick, brushes his bangs back and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, voice still too airy but less distant than it had been a few minutes ago.

“I’ll be with him, sir,” Alfred promises, gripping Dick’s shoulder. Once Bruce is out of ear-shot, Alfred and Dick spend their time saying goodbye without saying goodbye.

Alfred doesn’t come with them when they roll Dick down to the operating room. Bruce is in scrubs and gloves and doesn’t look like Bruce. Dick is getting cold, something Jason didn’t realize he could still feel.

Jason decides then that he’ll stay until the end. Bruce needs him, he knows, but Dick shouldn’t be alone right now, and Bruce won’t be allowed to stay. Sorry, B, Robins only, Jason thinks. Dick had said that once, hadn’t he? Jason can picture it. It was the second time Dick came over after Jason moved in, after he’d given Jason his blessing and old uniform. They were going to get milkshakes, just the two of them.

“Wait,” Dick says suddenly, and Jason snaps back to reality to watch him weakly bat the mask away, trying but unable to turn his head. “I need a few minutes.”

“Dick, we can’t wait,” Bruce argues, insists. “You need to let the doctors do their job.”

“Bruce,” Dick tries, and he grips Bruce’s arm as best he can. “I’m, I just wanted to tell you—”

“No. You’re going to be fine. We can talk after, we can—” Bruce, is Bruce about to cry?

“Thank you,” Dick interrupts, and Jason watches him gain a sudden moment of clarity and firmness. “And I love you, more than anything. I know we’ve had our, well, disagreements, but I’ve always known you’d be there for me despite everything, and, and—"

“You have and continue to be the light of my life, Dick.” This is Bruce saying goodbye, whether the man recognizes it as a goodbye or not. “You’ve . . .  you’re going to be alright. You’ll come home with me and Alfred while you recover, and we’ll take it one day at a time, and you’ll . . . you need to let the doctors do their job. Please.”

“I will, B.”

They place the mask over Dick’s face and he counts back from ten. Bruce leaves while they intubate him, and Alfred is waiting in the hall. He takes Bruce in his arms, and Jason can’t seem to look away as the pair cry.

Seeing people grieve is the most horrible thing Jason has ever had to watch.

oOo

Dick goes into cardiac arrest before they can finish repairing the brain bleed. They do their best, but Dick was dead before the explosion even went off. Someone leaves to inform Bruce and Alfred, maybe the crowd of people who almost definitely gathered the second word got out about Nightwing. The rest stay to clean Dick up. They take the pole out, stitch him up, and wipe the blood away. They unhook him from the useless machines, put him in a gown, and cover him with a blanket. He looks like Jason had looked before Bruce took him to the morgue.

oOo

They move Dick to another room—not a morgue—and let Bruce and Alfred see him. They don’t even try to hold back their pain. Bruce has Dick in his arms in seconds, and he’s rocking him and kissing his freshly cleaned hair and saying no, no, my boy, no and Jason can’t take it. He looks away; he lets himself grieve.

Then, something makes the back of Jason’s neck prickle, and he shivers for the first time since he’s died. He looks up toward Bruce only to find that another ghost has taken his place. This one is smaller than him, but he’s familiar. He’s seen the photos; Jason knows even before he speaks that this ghost boy is Dick.

“B, I’m right here, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m right here,” Dick says, voice higher than normal. It’s the voice of a child, this is a child. Why would Dick die as a child?

“Dick?” Jason asks.

Dick’s head shoots up, but he doesn’t stop clinging to Bruce. “Jason? How? You’re—” Dick stops himself.

“Yeah,” Jason nods, “I’m dead. We’re dead.”

“Then why . . .” Dick trails off, eyes glancing from Bruce to Alfred to the corpse and back to Bruce. “Does everyone turn into a ghost?”

Jason shakes his head. “You’re the first ghost I’ve met.” Jason really hopes his surprise isn’t written all over his face, but he’s out of practice so he doesn’t count on it.

“But, then why us?” There’s something between fear and desperation in his eyes.

Jason shrugs. He’d thought about it too, but he’d had no one to ask, no one to hear him ask. “Maybe being Robin really did give us magic.”

Dick’s face tightens into a deeper frown. He leans into Bruce; Bruce doesn’t shiver, and Jason swears Bruce is leaning back into Dick. “You’re . . . you look younger, than when you died. Smaller.”

Jason had noticed that the day after he’d died. He was underweight again, and he recognized the clothes that he was wearing as ones he’d picked out when Bruce and Alfred took him to get new clothes—ones that actually fit and didn’t have holes in them. He also remembered having outgrown those clothes quickly. He’d been underweight and malnourished; between recovering from that and normal growth spurts, he’d gone through a lot of clothes.

“Yeah. I think I’m about twelve,” is what Jason says instead, leaving out the “almost thirteen" part, something he'd left in during his first conversation with Dick nearly three years ago. It's still confusing to him how he can feel so sure about his age, and it’s not just his clothes and size that give him that certainty; the knowledge feels somewhat innate. “But you, you look way younger.”

Panic spreads across Dick’s face and he looks down at himself. He examines his hands, plucks at his shirt. It has Haly’s Circus written across it.

Jason comes closer to Dick, sits down next to him and leans against Bruce (just like always, he doesn’t shiver and Jason swears he leans closer to him).

Dick looks at his corpse, and he feels distant to Jason. “It doesn’t make any sense, why would I be eight again?”

Jason hums a little. “My guess is that we got put back to the time we were happiest.” Jason loved his mom, the mom who raised him, and even the one who got him killed most days. But growing up wasn’t easy, and moving in with Bruce felt like the first time he could put his guard down.

Dick’s face scrunches up and he turns away from his corpse. “Nice theory, but when I had to move in with Bruce, I was the farthest thing from happy.”

Oh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.” Dick had never really talked about his parents when the two of them were alive, and apparently he planned to keep the trend going. “It’s Bruce, then, right? He remembers us how we were when he first met us.” Then, he concludes, “He’s keeping us here.”

“I know that.” Jason’s a detective, too, and figuring out that Bruce sucks at grief was easy. He was just a little off about what role he played in his ghostly form. (Or maybe he just has more influence than Dick does. Who knows.)

Jason doesn’t know what to expect from Dick next. Maybe a plan on how to help Bruce let go so they can move on, or maybe a deeper analysis of their current predicament. But he does neither; instead, he breaks into sobs.

“Dick,” Jason says, voice empathetic and desperate. He raises his hand toward Dick, hesitating instead of letting it land. It hangs there, frozen in mid-air.

Dick has his face curled into Bruce’s neck and he’s crying loudly, ghost tears that never leave his face. Bruce leans closer to the body he shouldn’t be able to feel, but it’s not the same. Bruce can’t comfort Dick like this. No one can—well, no one living.

Jason wraps his arms around Dick’s back, just like he’d done when the death-sense first kicked in two weeks ago, and Dick lets him. Jason holds him and shushes him and tells him things will get easier. Not necessarily better, but easier. Because they were Robins, and Robins were nothing if not resilient and adaptive.

But they’re also two dead kids, so there's no need to put a rush on the resilience and adaptiveness stuff. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, they’re Robins in mourning, two little soldier boys who just want to come marching home.

[light-of-being]

a very fkin long and incomplete exposition of my flaws as a human being

I've not really spoken about the probably most consequential event in my recent life (the ending of a long term relationship), and that's because I haven't really thought about it very much. At least, not in a clear-headed space not entirely filled with rage, fear, or initially, longing. So, I've mostly just been waiting for the intensity of those responses to wear out before I can go back and make sense of things in a sorta 'safe' way.

(These days it's mostly anger and/or hurt. Sometimes twinges of hatred, but those fizzle quickly. I know that attitude isn't 'true'. I tried to hate him, I really did. Things would be so much simpler that way — an obvious villain of pure evil, a mistake worthy of contempt. Put him behind me as someone I regret meeting and consider everything only as a flashing warning sign of what to avoid next time. But real life never is that easy, is it.)

Regardless, reading about miscellaneous psychological ~stuff, I realised that I know for sure now that there are sides of me that only come out in a close relationship, as they postulate. It's unfortunate that my exposure to this was only in such a toxic environment, and I'm not sure if or when closeness has any chance of happening again.

I suspect, based on what I have/haven't felt with him vs others, that I can (at least at this stage of my development) only really feel 'seen' by an antisocial/narcissist/schizoid (or something in that general direction), just hope to god it's a mature one next time. I might want to interrogate and possibly change that fact, I'm not sure it's at all a healthily arrived preference. But...

there is a degree of normalcy and social belonging in others that becomes a wall

I can relate superficially, cognitively and even 'deeply personally' (tho is all y'all's deeply personal shit necessarily relational?), have a good time and even feel 'connection' but there are parts that seem simply insurmountable.

The lack of relating to many things is the unifying factor between me and the specified groups: the shared experience of not having shared experiences

But yet, a more acute awareness of superficiality, and the drives and mechanics of human interactions, attitudes, identity and constructs, not taken for granted as default but built from the ground up (Most often out of either necessity or a desire to manipulate them, but still).

Actually, most straightforwardly, the shared experience of experiencing oneself as an outsider to society — whether people personally, accepted norms or expected attitudes towards self and other.*

Anyway, that was a whole semi-tangent I went off on (useful and relevant to the initial thought but not the point I was planning on).

Important point was...ah yes, insights!

...into how I behave under genuine relational circumstances. Due to aforementioned toxicity, I'm not sure how generalisable they are to relationships overall, but they should generalise to feeling-states.

1.

(a) Fear. Defensiveness.

Switches off my brain. Obvious? No. I have been actively strategic while having a gun pointed at me. I thought I had that down. Turns out, I cannot dissociate myself out of an argument most of the time.

Turns out, just the fact or even prospect of arguing activates panic and brain goes out the window. Which is really fucking stupid as an occurrence because how many of these could be prevented with a bit of mindfulness and thoughtful responding. But getting emotions to chill out for long enough to do that is tough.

(b) I am a stubborn dumbass. Kid me argued until they were attacked so harshly that they absolutely could not continue. The alternative presented was to just keep silent, one I did not then and do not now accept. Discussion where both parties partake in good faith have generally been fruitful, only neither of these situations were that. Both involved one person trying to dominate at all costs. To which I suppose keeping silent for the moment and then running tf away is an appropriate response. Idk. I'm not sure if this is a 'normal situation' to which I respond unhealthily, or an 'abnormal situation' in which you just do your best to survive. Arguments are normal. Idk if other people have a less aggressive approach that is less outright terrifying, in which I can modulate, but it does seem like people want to prove you wrong and get angry, which I perceive as aggression.

2. 

Which brings me to boundaries. Can I shut things down when I'm overwhelmed. In the present case, the answer was no. They both didn't stop and the fact that I asked for this was interpreted as admission of defeat.Oftentimes, getting out of the situation was more of an ordeal than dealing with it. [We stayed at a hotel the one time and he did things that made me very uncomfortable (in like a “things that I shudder at thinking about even now” kind of way; not sexual btw which this has made it sound). I thought I was as clear as I could’ve been by saying, “I’m going to legit have a breakdown if you keep doing that” but apparently it came across as a joke (gotta improve on communication as well). He stopped and apologised when he realised I was crying, but later blamed me for not being more assertive and laughed at my ‘exaggerated’ response and “meltdown”. At this point I wanted to leave and go home, but he withheld [my copy of] the key. He insisted and manipulated and coerced for discussion, said I could have the key if I “really wanted it, but do I actually want that”, until it was just easier to give in. The helplessness and feeling trapped of that evening haunts me to this day, and I want to be very sure to never be in any situation where that is even a possibility again no matter what.]

I need to get better at knowing what is and isn't okay and being strong enough to enforce that.

3.

(a) Attachment is a bitch. Utterly unfamiliar sensation, one I don't know my way around at all. The rarity of relation makes it seem so fucking precious, so fucking necessary to protect even to my detriment and his. Dare I tip the boat or will it sink. Should I be the dancing monkey to keep it from sinking. Should he.

(b) The feeling of giving a damn what someone thinks of me is also foreign and difficult. It also seems hella intensified by virtue of not existing elsewhere. Disapproval feels devastating. Criticism becomes attack. Everything feels like a continuous effort to establish worth. I'd imagined acceptance could be taken for granted, but I questioned it the whole way (obviously doesn't help when he demands changes).

(c) I have trouble distinguishing between personal issues and insecurities and legitimate reason to be upset. I think this is typical. But with trial and error, one can probably pick up on what you carry with you across differing people and circumstances. I don't have that data. I have nothing to compare against. I also suspect some parts of this is him treating legitimate reasons as being my distorted perceptions, which I'm pretty sure did happen for a few things that I believe are 'objectively' shitty.

5. 

I trust. Too. Fucking. Much. I take shit at face value. This is very often dumb and...bad in literally every sense, but I don’t yet know how to identify preemptively when that's the case. I also fail to be adequately 'suspicious' I guess to be alert to minor inconsistencies later on. Lies are especially devastating. I built my reality around you using that fundamental premise. Now you tell me it was false all along. Where does that leave me? I go back to substitute and nothing makes sense. I don't know if the initial statement was a lie or the claim that it's false was. I don't know if everything I remember is just distorted somehow. I don't know what to do. (aside: gaslighting? I’m inclined to say “effectively, yes”. The best explanation I have is that for many things he rewrote the narrative in his own mind and does not remember the things that blatantly contradict it. For other things, I cannot see that being possible and am forced to think it’s just pure lies). All of this could have been prevented if I accounted for people being dishonest.

6. 

(a) I lose sympathy. Genuinely did not ever expect this to happen. Enough hurt, enough deception and I stop trying to understand why. I assume malice. I expect malice in future interactions and misread situations as a result. In the beginning I made fucktons of effort to be understanding of things far from my typical range (hello, admissions of past violence and present homicidal ideation. Hello, talking someone out of real intention of ruining a person's life over a minor slight). Honestly, I think I overreached. Some of these things were not things I should have tolerated, accepted even. When I started walking on eggshells to not have him ruin my life, too, that was probably when I should've gotten out. He claimed that the people he cares about are exceptions. That's probably true, otherwise I would currently be in a ton of shit. But at some point I did stop believing it.

(b) I don't really think that most of the things that happened were malicious. Some, he admits, were. But mostly he wasn't out with the intention to hurt me, but he also didn't make the effort...not to. Even with me repeatedly complaining about things, he was defensive or dismissive, considering me talking about an issue to be me creating issues in his life. This is super shitty, his damage is caused by a stubborn ego fixation and sheer passivity, thoughtlessness (he has agreed to all of this in our final conversation), but it isn't exactly intentionally malicious. If he genuinely didn't believe there was a problem, that is an issue, and the fact that he utterly failed until the end to even consider the possibility of a valid complaint, is a very real flaw. He is bad insofar as "he is lazy and incompetent at being good". Which I can understand but nevertheless protect myself from. Ideally, sooner. At the point where I start feeling like someone is being shitty more often than not, something needs to happen. A discussion, a reconsideration, a run-as-fast-as-you-can... Something.

Idk. This isn't everything. But yeah.

.

.

.

* These 3 PDs are often used in illustrating the idea of pathologising difference: few of the criteria are about subjective distress and many about extrinsic value judgements of what a person should be like (lol, my clinical psych final had an essay question on this). I don't necessarily agree but it does speak to a shared thread of...something. That said, this characterisation is tbh still too broad for my liking. Importantly, it is definitively applicable to autistic people but I do not in general relate to that in the same way. Some specific manifestations of it, yes, but I have seen far too many excessively... 'human' autistic people to include the whole category. There are probably folks in the PD categories who are also like that but I think much less common.

[tumblunni]

I had a really weird dream involving Dr Maddiman. Its a shame i can barely remember any of it and also it seems i woke up before it ended? Like i just had this overwhelming sense that allll the plot threads were gonna be wrapped up any second now and then BOOM awake. So just a whole bunch of random stuff happened with no real explanation at all.

It was some sort of post apocolyptic setting i think? Humanity was in these small isolated cities fighting against some sort of invading army but we never actually saw the aliens themselves. And some part of my brain was like "it makes sense its the same rules as a hairdresser and the design takes cues from a pack of AAA batteries". I have NO idea what that means! So basically everythibg was super vague and undescribed and dream-me just had a sense of already being a long time fan of this series and knowing enough to fill in the gaps. Apparantoy this was some sort of adaptation of a thing id already seen, but id been told the ending was different and more accurate to the manga? Also i wasnt actually a person watching this show i was still the protagonist of the show yet i acted like i'd been reincarnated and relived this week a million times or something

ANYWAY the way dr maddiman comes in is that he was some sort of 'brilliant but dangerous' expert the government had hired to help our fight against the aliens. It wasnt really explained why he was.. yknow.. maddiman. Like is this meant to be that ghosts also exist in this sci fi universe? Was he a half alien hybrid instead of a yokai? Was it just human maddiman with the personality of yokai maddiman due to ptsd...? In any case he didnt seem entirely tethered to the laws of reality and nobody knew exactly how he pulled off all his scientific miracles. He was treated as the only guy who could understand the mindset of the aliens, but that also made him dangerous because he trapped in the delusion of everything being okay and fun and happy and he often did evil things by accident while having good intentions. But they didnt have anyone else who'd cracked the code of the alien weaponry so they had to put up with him. He was just sorta assigned a crack team of secret agents whose job was Be The Old Man's Friend So We Dont All Die. Dont let him realise how the world is all destroyed and such, just play along with his goofyness and try and remind him to do his important work while dancing around why its important. it was super creepy how he was locked up and gaslighted like this!! And he was all 'oh im sure when im done with my ultimate experiment i can go home to my wife and kids' and yeah it was implied here that the same backstory applied :( 'distract the old man and validate his false opinion that his family is still alive and waiting for him' :( poor sci fi madds :(

Oh also for some reason he seemed to be wearing elements of Adventure era Dr Eggman's outfit? But just the general style of the coat and the wearing goggles that he never actually uses. And he had a very warm and cuddly autumnal colourscheme

Anyway i was part of the Super Secret Grampa Cherishing Division whose job was to act as his assistant but also secretly be packing a bazillion weapons to neutralize him if he poses a danger to humanity. But i started to genuinely care for the guy and question the 'any atrocity is permitted for the sake of saving the world' philosophy of my bosses. Also it was just very weird how it was this post apocolypse alien fighting action thing yet i didnt see ANY OF IT cos this story was confined to this one laboratory. It was surreal hearing about all this stuff happening offscreen!

I think Maddiman's main project was some sort of dimensional transport thing using salvaged alien tech? It was just a door in his lab that usually led to a closet but if he got it working itd teleport us straight to the alien base and save the world. And a lot of it wasnt explained but i got this great sense that itd all come together with a great twist ending evebtually but then i woke up before i got that far. Same for the reveal of this maddiman's new sci fi backstory and soooo many other dropped plot threads. Alas!

So anyway: closet. Closet with one of those bead curtain things cos i was thinking about them when i fell asleep. It was supposed to be a teleport but when it malfunctioned it had really scary negative effects warping people's biology and stuff. I remember one of the test subjects was sent in for a five day trip to a specific alternate dimension but then when they came back itd been several years and theyd had to survive in a deadly wasteland and been mutated into a hellbeast. And maddiman had a huge breakdown because he felt like his recklessness and optimism towards this experiment had caused this mistake to happen, and he'd never realized just how awful the consequences could be. He was babbling motor mouth discussing theories for where it went wrong and there was something like 'we'd only tested it for one day trips and assumed that just programming two of them would equal two days but actually with each additional number on the screen it multiplies the days by 3" And there was something about like...the bead curtain was the machine rather than the door itself? Like trying it on a bunch of different doors around the lab to try and find a way to cure this person.

And there was some sort of artificial intelligence computer with the personality of an adorable lil girl, who helped maddiman do calculations and stuff. She missed the mistake in this calculation cos her concept of linear time and the limits of human organs was kinda undeveloped. She only existed within the realm of numbers after all, and didbt even have functionality to record footage of her human friends's faces. No idea wtf a human looks like! So maddiman was lost in his desperate grief of potentially accidebtally killing or at least mentally scarring a person and the government would probably kill them now if they saw they were a super mutant. And he was sobbing and begging this AI to help, his last resort was her maybe being able to see a brainwave that he'd missed. But she was freaking out cos she didnt even fully understand why maddiman was crying let alone what to do to fix it. Eventually she did manage to find a solution theough some simple different logic thing that she had from her perspective as a computer. And that person was saved but still traumatized and maddiman had a moment of realizing just how high stakes everything was and freaking out. He was like 'whats wrong with my head, why didnt i notice that, why was i so reckless, why cant i seem to grasp basic human logic that i need right now" Having a big existential crisis of 'wait how did i even get in this lab, where's my family and why do i seem to have superpowers'. Protagonist mission: hide all the goddamn mirrors to avoid this weird ghostgramp (...aliengramp??) from realizing he's dead (..or an alien??) and losing control of himself. And everyone was running around talking about 'containment procedures' and poor maddiman didnt know that if his panic attack continued he might just straight up be killed for outliving his usefulness. So the protagonist was desperate to help him calm down and it sucked SO MUCH cos they had to lie about his past and weave the web of deception around him again for his own safety. In the end they just hugged him close until he calmed down, and all the other employees were like GASP THEY ACTUALLY TOUCHED THE EVIL DANGEROUS SUPER EVIL MAN and protag was like 'i am 1% away from slapping the next bitch who insults this grandpa'. And it was super depressing cos once he'd calmed down he seemed to start forgetting that anything bad had ever happened?? And he was really panicking and scared cos he didnt understand why he was forgetting, and he knew he had to cling onto something important but he didnt know what. And then five minutes later he was back to haha cheerful nothing is wrong and i love doing my fun science in this room im never allowed to leave. And protagonist was crying the tears that this poor gramp wasnt allowed to cry :(

Also actually i think maybe he was a ghost AND an alien? Like he was a scientist who died in some sort of tragedy back when the aliens first invaded, but along the way he'd been infected so his body got back up as a twisted combination of human and inhuman. And this was something unique to him, like he just happened to have a genetic mutation in his blood that was totally undetectable in life but happened to mix unpredictably with this alien virus to turn him into a hybrid instead of just killing him. So the government was very interested in finding a way to replicate this and create new supersoldiers, as well as just taking advantage of this dude's confused mental state that granted him a unique understanding of alien tech that made him more effective than other scientists. And, of course, also made him easy to manipulate :(

And i also had a feeling that maybe his backstory was mixed up with Adventure dr eggman? Like here it seemed he had a daughter instead of a son, and she had a similar death to Maria Robotnik where she was assasinated by the government he worked for, and it tipped him over the edge. I think Maddiman-alien-scifi-dude originally died trying to save her from being used in some sort of experiment? Like she was already dying of a disease and thats why maddiman took this job to have access to powerful government technology to try and look for a cure. But when the whole alien apocolypse happened, the evil government decided to use her for experiments cos she was 'basically dead anyway'. Theyd just lie and tell maddiman she died of her illness. So this was how they found out that this particular family's bloodline had a mutation that let them form a viable hybrid with alien dna. They were turning this poor kid into a monster in the basement while lying to her dad about her being dead! And maddiman was about to commit suicide from having no reason to live anymore, with the hell of this apocolypse world and the false impression that his kid was already dead. But somehow monster-daughter sensed this or something and broke out of containment to try and save him, and when he saw her he was able to recognise her even in her twisted state. So when the soldiers gunned her down in front of him and fed him some lies about this not being his daughter, he just completely snapped. He tried in vain to fight back and take down as many of them as possible in revenge, but well he was just a simple round dad with no ability to fight a government. So he was unceremoniously executed along with his kid and they shoved the bodies back in the lab to continue testing. "Damn that overemotional science dad, he made us execute our most valable test subject! But at least this way we can analyze his corpse to see if the mutation is passed down on the patrilineal side." But at some point during the fight, monster-daughter's blood had splashed on her dad and gotten into his bloodstream. So the seemingly dead body suddenly got up out of the morgue and started sucking people's blood or something. And this led to the current situation where they have him locked up cos he's a valuable test subject but also hey he has 100% reason to kill all of us and we're screwed if he remembers his past. Also i think the computer AI thing was his subconcious attempt to recreate the personality of his daughter even if he couldnt remember she'd ever existed :(

Anyway at some point things escalated and there was this final showdown versus both the invading aliens and the evil governmebt guys. I think there was some corrupt greedy politician dude who stole maddiman's teleporter tech and sold us out to the aliens cos he wanted money and power or something. And probably predictably the aliens just threw him off a bridge after he gave them the thing, because seriously even this evil army thinks these government dudes are too evil!

So this big actiony event was happening and Maddiman was freaking out like 'no no no i cant leave the lab everyone wpuld be mad at me, i dont even know what its like outside this room' even when he was in the middle of being attacked by aliens. He was forced to face his repressed memories to survive, and he naturally had a massive fuckin freakout! And i think maybe when protagonist character was trying to protect him he accidentally lashed out with his powers and hurt them, and he was so horrified thinking another person he cared about was gonna die because of him. Protagonist was like 'dont worry gramps its just a scratch' but he'd already freaked out and run away into the battlefield to his heavily implied death.

BUT THEN at some sort of moment of dire need, he came back all powered up and re-memoried and was like 'i have every reason to despise humanity but im not gonna let more children die because of these damn corporate monsters (and also literal monsters which are infinately less scary)" And he did some sort of great sacrifice to save the protagonist at the cost of his own life, and it was super dramatic falling from a building into a lake of fire or something. While sobbing and smiling peacefully thinkibg "did i atone for my sins? Will i be able to see my family again?" As his smiling face sunk beneath the flames and the protagonist cried out into the abyss...

Aaaaand then i dont really know what happened in the big battle and i also never found out wtf the solution was to fixing the transporter thing or how the aliens invaded or any of the million plot points that were non gramp related.

I just remember that when we all saved the day and defeated the baddies we found that maddiman had actually survived and it was a big hugs reunion. He was like "OH YEAH i totally forgot i literally already died once and regenerated from it, and this was the entire start to my story. My bad!" *shrugs inexplicably not dead arms*

So yeah in summary im glad my brain summoned up a universe where my favourite sad granddad is literally immortal now, but also why did it torment him with an even sadder plot than his original one

[niftytrend]

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Now after getting trend you can know what to do. But question now is when to enter and when to exit. Most trader follow pivot support and resistance to enter at support and exit at resistance. But pivot calculation is based on previous day open, low, close and open level. So there is no emotion in that but market gets affected by emotions. So we have to calculate what they have done yesterday. So here you can find today Banknifty unique support and resistance which is totally different level from pivot one. This is posted before market open for the whole day and compare it and use it in live market to feel the difference.  Market will give respect to these level and with the help of live alert technical traders are making good profit.Sometimes bank nifty moves up and traders enters in CALL option but suddenly it get reverse from middle. Here maximum trader gets trapped and blames luck or operators. But this is due to false level. This false trend hits stop loss repeatedly.Using false level strategy much before the formation of green candle you can identify the false trend.Will you enter after knowing the false trend? So use our free Bank nifty today prediction daily to know or learn how technical or professional traders trade in lie market. 

[picksblog285]

Persona

Personal Capital

A Person's Persona

Personality

Personalization Mall

The persona, for Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, was the social face the individual presented to the world—'a kind of mask, designed on the one hand to make a definite impression upon others, and on the other to conceal the true nature of the individual'.(1)

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Jung's persona(edit)

Identification(edit)

The development of a viable social persona is a vital part of adapting to, and preparing for, adult life in the external social world.(2) 'A strong ego relates to the outside world through a flexible persona; identifications with a specific persona (doctor, scholar, artist, etc.) inhibits psychological development.(3)(4) Thus for Jung 'the danger is that (people) become identical with their personas—the professor with his textbook, the tenor with his voice.'(5) The result could be 'the shallow, brittle, conformist kind of personality which is 'all persona', with its excessive concern for 'what people think'(6)—an unreflecting state of mind 'in which people are utterly unconscious of any distinction between themselves and the world in which they live. They have little or no concept of themselves as beings distinct from what society expects of them'.(7) The stage was set thereby for what Jung termed enantiodromia—the emergence of the repressed individuality from beneath the persona later in life: 'the individual will either be completely smothered under an empty persona or an enantiodromia into the buried opposites will occur'.(8)

Disintegration(edit)

Mailsmith mcintosh. 'The breakdown of the persona constitutes the typically Jungian moment both in therapy and in development'—the 'moment' when 'that excessive commitment to collective ideals masking deeper individuality—the persona—breaks down.. disintegrates.'(9) Given Jung's view that 'the persona is a semblance.. the dissolution of the persona is therefore absolutely necessary for individuation.'(10) Nevertheless, its disintegration may well lead initially to a state of chaos in the individual: 'one result of the dissolution of the persona is the release of fantasy.. disorientation.'(11) As the individuation process gets under way, 'the situation has thrown off the conventional husk and developed into a stark encounter with reality, with no false veils or adornments of any kind.'(12)

Negative restoration(edit)

One possible reaction to the resulting experience of archetypal chaos was what Jung called 'the regressive restoration of the persona', whereby the protagonist 'laboriously tries to patch up his social reputation within the confines of a much more limited personality.. pretending that he is as he was before the crucial experience.'(13) Similarly in treatment there can be 'the persona-restoring phase, which is an effort to maintain superficiality';(14) or even a longer phase designed not to promote individuation but to bring about what Jung caricatured as 'the negative restoration of the persona'—that is to say, a reversion to the status quo.(15)

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Absence(edit)

The alternative is to endure living with the absence of the persona—and for Jung 'the man with no persona.. is blind to the reality of the world, which for him has merely the value of an amusing or fantastic playground.'(16) Inevitably, the result of 'the streaming in of the unconscious into the conscious realm, simultaneously with the dissolution of the 'persona' and the reduction of the directive force of consciousness, is a state of disturbed psychic equilibrium.'(17) Those trapped at such a stage remain 'blind to the world, hopeless dreamers.. spectral Cassandras dreaded for their tactlessness, eternally misunderstood.'(18)

Restoration(edit)

Recovery, the aim of individuation, 'is not only achieved by work on the inside figures but also, as conditio sine qua non, by a readaptation in outer life'(19)—including the recreation of a new and more viable persona. To 'develop a stronger persona.. might feel inauthentic, like learning to 'play a role'.. but if one cannot perform a social role then one will suffer'.(20) Thus one goal for individuation is for people to 'develop a more realistic, flexible persona that helps them navigate in society but does not collide with nor hide their true self'.(21) Eventually, 'in the best case, the persona is appropriate and tasteful, a true reflection of our inner individuality and our outward sense of self.'(22)

Later developments(edit)

The persona has become one of the most widely adopted aspects of Jungian terminology, passing into almost common parlance: 'a mask or shield which the person places between himself and the people around him, called by some psychiatrists the persona.'(23) For Eric Berne, 'the persona is formed during the years from six to twelve, when most children first go out on their own.. to avoid unwanted entanglements or promote wanted ones.'(24) He was interested in 'the relationship between ego states and the Jungian persona', and considered that 'as an ad hoc attitude, persona is differentiated also from the more autonomous identity of Erikson.'(25) Perhaps more contentiously, in terms of life scripts, he distinguished 'the Archetypes (corresponding to the magic figures in a script) and the Persona (which is the style the script is played in)'.(26)

Post-Jungians would loosely call the persona 'the social archetype of the conformity archetype',(27) though Jung himself was always concerned to distinguish the persona as an external function from those images of the unconscious he called archetypes. Thus whereas Jung recommended conversing with archetypes as a therapeutic technique he himself had employed—'For decades I always turned to the anima when I felt my emotional behavior was disturbed, and I would speak with the anima about the images she communicated to me'(28)—he stressed that 'It would indeed be the height of absurdity if a man tried to have a conversation with his persona, which he recognized merely as a psychological means of relationship.'(29)

Jordan Peterson(edit)

University of Toronto psychology professor Jordan Peterson, well-known as an admirer of Jung’s work, uses Jungian terminology but reconfigures it into a model that divides the psychological world into the domains of nature and culture. The Great Father of culture is an archetypal force that shapes the potential of chaos into the actuality of order. In this framework, the persona would be the aspect of the personality that has been adapted to culture, more specifically to the social dominance hierarchy. People who refuse to submit to this social discipline or carry the responsibility inherent in having a role in the world remain as undifferentiated potential, known in more Jungian terms as peter pan syndrome, or the negative aspect of the puer aeternus. (30)

Though Jung doesn’t reference dominance hierarchies specifically, the above is broadly in accordance with his conception of the persona as defined in his Two Essays on Analytical Psychology:

Quantum calculator. “We can see how a neglected persona works, and what one must do to remedy the evil. Such people can avoid disappointments and an infinity of sufferings, scenes, and social catastrophes only by learning to see how men behave in the world. They must learn to understand what society expects of them; they must realize that there are factors and persons in the world far above them; they must know that what they do has a meaning for others.” (31)

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See also(edit)

References(edit)

^C. G. Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology (London 1953) p. 190

^Jung, Two Essays, p. 197

^Mario Jacoby, The Analytic Encounter (Canad 1984) p. 118

^This is very similar to Sartre's waiter who becomes a sort of machine by denying his freedom and therefore limiting his potential growth

^C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (London 1983) p. 416

^Anthony Stevens, On Jung (London 1990) p. 43

^Terence Dawson, in P. Young-Eisendrath and T. Dawson ed., The Cambridge Companion to Jung (Cambridge 1977), page 267

^Barbara Hannah, Striving towards Wholeness (Boston 1988) p. 263

^Peter Homans, Jung in Context (London 1979), p. 100–2.

^C. G. Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology (London 1953), p. 156 and page 284.

^Jung, Two Essays; page 277.

^C. G. Jung, 'Psychology of the Transference', Collected Works, volume 16. London 1954, page 238.

^Jung, Two Essays; pages 161–2 and p. 164.

^David Sedgwick, Introduction to Jungian Psychotherapy (London 2006) p. 153

^Stevens, Jung, page 179.

^Jung, Two Essays, p. 197

^Jacobi, Psychology, page 117

^Jung, Two Essays, page 197

^Hannah, p. 288

^Demaris S. Wehr, Jung and Feminism (London 1988), page 57.

^Susan Reynolds, Everything Enneagram Book (2007), p. 61.

^Roberte H. Hopcke, A Guided Tour of the collected Works of C. G. Jung (Boston 1989), pages 87–8.

^Eric Berne, Sex in Human Loving (Penguin 1973); page 98

^Berne, Sex; page 99

^Eric Berne, Transactional Analysis in Psychotherapy (Guernsey 1966), p. 79.

^Eric Berne, What Do You Say After You Say Hello (Corgi 1975), page 56

^Anthony Stevens, Jung (Oxford 1994); page 47

^Jung, Memories p. 212

^Jung, Two Essays, p. 199.

^J.B. Peterson, 12 Rules for Life, p. 192.

^Jung, Two Essays, p. 197

Retrieved from 'https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Persona_(psychology)&oldid=999162409'

Also found in: Thesaurus, Medical, Idioms, Encyclopedia, Wikipedia.

per·so·na

(pər-sō′nə)n.

1. pl.personas The role that one assumes or displays in public or society; one's public image or personality, as distinguished from the inner self.

2. pl.per·so·nas or per·so·nae(-nē) The character represented by the voice of the speaker or narrator in a literary work.

3. personae The characters in a dramatic or literary work.

American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fifth Edition. Copyright © 2016 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.

persona

(pɜːˈsəʊnə) n, pl

-nae (-niː)

1. (Literary & Literary Critical Terms) (often plural) a character in a play, novel, etc

3. (Psychology) (in Jungian psychology) the mechanism that conceals a person's true thoughts and feelings, esp in his adaptation to the outside world

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged, 12th Edition 2014 © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2011, 2014

per•so•na

(pərˈsoʊ nə) n., pl. -nae (-nē), -nas.

1. Often, personae. a character in a fictional literary work.

2. (in the psychology of C. G. Jung) the public role or personality a person assumes or is perceived to assume (contrasted with anima).

Random House Kernerman Webster's College Dictionary, © 2010 K Dictionaries Ltd. Copyright 2005, 1997, 1991 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

anima, persona - Anima is Carl Jung's term for the inner part of the personality, or character, as opposed to the persona, or outer part.

Farlex Trivia Dictionary. © 2012 Farlex, Inc. All rights reserved.

Noun1.persona - an actor's portrayal of someone in a play; 'she played the part of Desdemona'

theatrical role, role, character, part

personation, portrayal, characterization, enactment - acting the part of a character on stage; dramatically representing the character by speech and action and gesture

heavy - a serious (or tragic) role in a play

hero - the principal character in a play or movie or novel or poem

ingenue - the role of an innocent artless young woman in a play

name part, title role - the role of the character after whom the play is named

heroine - the main good female character in a work of fiction

baddie, villain - the principal bad character in a film or work of fiction

2.persona - (Jungian psychology) a personal facade that one presents to the world; 'a public image is as fragile as Humpty Dumpty'

appearance, visual aspect - outward or visible aspect of a person or thing

psychological science, psychology - the science of mental life

Carl Gustav Jung, Carl Jung, Jung - Swiss psychologist (1875-1961)

Based on WordNet 3.0, Farlex clipart collection. © 2003-2012 Princeton University, Farlex Inc.

persona

nounpersonality, part, face, front, role, character, mask, façade, public face, assumed rolethe contradictions between her private life and her public persona

Collins Thesaurus of the English Language – Complete and Unabridged 2nd Edition. 2002 © HarperCollins Publishers 1995, 2002

persona

noun

A person portrayed in fiction or drama:

The American Heritage® Roget's Thesaurus. Copyright © 2013, 2014 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.

persona

(pɜːˈsəʊnə)N (

personae (pl)) (pɜːˈsəʊnaɪ)

2. (= image) → imagenf

3.persona grata → personafgrata persona non grata → personaf no grata

Collins Spanish Dictionary - Complete and Unabridged 8th Edition 2005 © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1971, 1988 © HarperCollins Publishers 1992, 1993, 1996, 1997, 2000, 2003, 2005

Personal Capital

persona

(pərˈsəʊnə)n (= image) → personnagem

A Person's Persona

public persona → personne publique to take on a new persona → se créer un nouveaupersonnage

Collins English/French Electronic Resource. © HarperCollins Publishers 2005

persona

n pl <-e> (Psych) → Personaf; persona grata (Jur) → Persona grataf; persona non grata (Jur, fig) → Persona non grataf

Collins German Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged 7th Edition 2005. © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1980 © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1997, 1999, 2004, 2005, 2007

Personality

per·so·na

n. persona, personalidad adoptada que encubre la verdadera.

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[tigerlilynoh]

Fic Request: Sam’s First Month at Stanford

Word count: 6,662 Pairing: Sam x Brady Warnings: Mention of child abuse, Homophobic language

Author’s Note: This was written to be set within The Uncomfortable Adventures of Sam in Law School AU, but it’s also intended to stand on its own just fine.

Hope you enjoy it :)

It’d taken him four days of hitchhiking, hustling pool, and bus rides to get to California.  The journey had been slower than normal because he’d tried to avoid illicit shortcuts like pickpocketing people for funds or the like.  He’d gone so far as to take a can of lighter fluid with him when he left, then had a bonfire of his fake IDs and credit cards.  From then on he was gonna live legitimately.  He might not have much money, but he’d come by it through legal, mundane means.

Sam walked through the hallway of his dormitory looking for his room.  Clutching his duffel bag to his side, he suddenly felt self-conscious.  Everyone else seemed to have multiple suitcases or cardboard moving boxes, meanwhile everything he owned was contained in the bag he was holding.  Many of the students had their parents with them to help out and share the momentous event.  Seeing one dad help carry his son’s boxes up a flight of stairs, Sam was struck painfully by his own lack of support.  

Telling his family that he was leaving had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.  His dad had yelled at him and called him a coward—said it would be his fault if anything happened to them because they wouldn’t have enough backup.  How could he be so selfish?  He’d never amount to anything as a civilian, so why even bother wasting his and everyone else’s time.

When he’d attempted to pick up his duffel bag, John had pulled it from him, then thrown the bag across the room.  For a moment Sam had braced himself for a physical fight.  His dad had even been armed, but didn’t bother drawing the knife from the sheath on his belt.  Sam hadn’t looked at Dean, who had silently watched everything from the far wall.  Sam tried to ignore them both as he quickly collected his duffel bag from the ground, then walked out the door to his dad shouting for him to never come back.

Despite knowing that he’d done the right thing, he still cried several times a day.  He’d called Dean’s cell phone twice, though both times he was sent to voicemail.  It hadn’t been his intention to completely sever ties with his family.  He’d figured that was a risk, but it had never been something he wanted.  Distance and the freedom to figure himself out had been his dream, for as long as he could remember.  He was finally getting the chance, though the reality of his situation wasn’t nearly what he’d dreamt of as a kid.  In reality decades of trauma and unhealthy relationships had a way of coloring even a fresh start in the form of a free ride at a top-tier university.

When he discovered that his dorm room wasn’t shared with another student, he decided to call it an early night thanks to his emotional exhaustion and lack of boxes to unpack.  He slipped his protection charm into the bottom of his pillowcase, then knelt beside the bed to pray.  His upbringing had been a strange mixture of nondescript Christian and traditional Anglo-Greco hunter.  He’d pray to Artemis more often than he’d pray to God, but the Great Huntress almost exclusively received canned piety.  When he really needed a little customized help he turned to God—though in that moment he felt like an apology was in order.

He withdrew a knife from his duffel, placed it on the top of the mattress directly in front of him, then rested his right hand on top of it.  The rite called for touching his favorite weapon, but he hadn’t been able to take his bow from the Impala before he’d left.  The knife was the only weapon he still had, so it would have to do.  At least he tried.  His dad never prayed before bed and on the rare occasion that Dean did the rite it was never done justice.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me anymore.”  He wasn’t sure if she ever had been able to.  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t stay in your service.  I need to find my place, wherever that is.  From now on, that’s my hunt, my pursuit.  I hope you can forgive me.”

He wished someone would forgive him, that someone would tell him it was alright.  In his heart he felt like he’d made the right choice, but doubt whispered that he’d never be able to have the life of a civilian.  He pushed the unsettling thought aside, then continued to the standard prayer.

“Please give me strength and patience.  Give me the will to endure my trials and the mind to overcome them.  Protect me…”  He pursed his lips in hesitation. “...and my family.”  Before finishing, he added, “Please watch over me even when I’m lost… even when I don’t speak your name.  Please... remember me.”

Lying in bed, he stared up at the ceiling.  He would be waking up to stare at that same ceiling every morning for at least the next eight months.  The thought made him strangely frightened.  It was so long.  He’d never been anywhere that long.  What if he couldn’t do it?  Maybe he was trapped by his upbringing?  He’d never heard of any cradle-to-the-grave hunters retiring.  In that moment it wouldn’t have surprised him to find out that people like him couldn’t cut civilian life.

He got up from the bed, took his desk chair, and wedged it under the doorknob to secure the door.  Then he moved his pillow and a blanket onto the floor in the corner, so that he could see both the door and the window.  He curled up with his knife by his pillow, ready to grab in an emergency.  His first night on campus, he fell asleep on the floor, crying into his pillow.  It took him three nights before he tried sleeping in the bed.

Adjusting to his new life was harder than he’d anticipated.  He knew it’d be emotionally difficult, that being apart from his family and the hunter lifestyle for the first time would be difficult on top of all the assorted trauma he wasn’t yet prepared to look at head-on.  But he hadn’t foreseen several other challenges.  Thanks to having spent his childhood living on the road, traveling from hunt to hunt, he had certain disadvantages—socially and financially, many of which hadn’t even occurred to him as issues.

Social anxiety hadn’t really been on his radar as a problem that he might have.  For years he’d been used to putting on a false smile and playing various roles in order to help with witnesses on a hunt, or maybe just to work a hustle.  He could be charismatic when it came right down to it, but there had been a sort of comfort in knowing it was all fake and insulated from his actual life.  But now he wasn’t playing a part; this was his life.  He felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable to others’ judgment in a way that he’d only ever felt at hunter gatherings.

The first morning at the dormitory he decided to take a shower.  He hadn’t bathed since leaving his family and was in desperate need of self-care.  His skin felt oily even if it didn’t look too bad and no matter how many times he’d washed his hands he still had a sneaking suspicion that there was dried blood somewhere on him, even if no longer under his nails.

He walked to the co-ed bathroom with a towel that he’d stolen from a motel room.  He was wearing full-length pants and his hoodie.  A few people glanced at him in his state of ample dress while he waited for a free shower stall.  Everyone else was wearing minimal pajamas, shorts, swimsuits, or maybe even just a strategically wrapped towel.  Some students whispered to each other, though he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination that they were talking about him.

The fact of the matter was that he didn’t want anyone to see him with his shirt off.  Large bruises covered his shoulder, torso, and upper legs.  Worse, there were still two dozen stitches holding him together below his left arm.  He had no good explanation for them and dreaded the thought of what gossip might grow out of it being seen.  Slipping fully dressed into the shower stall, he pulled the curtain, took off his clothes, and examined the injuries.  With a little luck they’d be the last scars to mark his body.  

After hanging up his clothes as best he could so they wouldn’t get wet, he began washing himself.  He could hear a man in a neighboring shower singing classic Motown.  He’d never heard someone singing in the shower before—he couldn’t even remember hearing someone singing in person at all.  As unusual as it was, it was kind of charming to know that somebody was comfortable and happy.  He let the warm water pour over him, washing away as much of the unpleasantness of his past as it could.  For a moment it was deeply soothing… until his pants fell off their hook and were soaked.  He picked up the soggy jeans, then checked his injuries again and wondered how much longer he’d need to keep covering up on the way to and from the shower.

The fourth day brought with it Sam’s first public embarrassment of his college career and the subsequent breakdown.  He’d been in the student union buying some lunch when another student had accidentally bumped into him.  The recently-buffed floor and sudden impact caused them both to slip and fall down, spilling Sam’s plate of food and costing him a precious, scholarship-sponsored meal.  The scene drew the attention of a few dozen bystanders.  The sudden motion had torn one of his stitches, causing Sam to clutch his side.  Two people went to help him up, but the combined pain and embarrassment triggered his memories from his youth, inducing an anxiety attack.  So when they grabbed him to help him up, he panicked.

Their hands on him reminded him of the way his dad used to grab him and shove him around.  Just a few days before leaving, he’d been slammed into a wall while being yelled at for taking so long to finish off the last werewolf they’d been fighting.  The impact had made the fresh slashing wound on his side sting and dribble blood.  Their dad had instructed Dean not to help suture the injury—Sam would have to deal with the consequences of his poor performance and could stitch himself up in front of the bathroom mirror.  It’d taken an hour and all the willpower he had to get through all twenty-four stitches before he drank himself numb.

Sam pulled away from the students and their bizarre attempt to help him.  He scrambled across the floor, then ran out of the student union clutching his ribs.  When he got back to his room, he locked the door and propped the chair against it before sitting on the floor in the corner.  There was a little blood on his shirt… one of only six that he owned.  He took it off to examine the damage.  The injury hadn’t opened up too much and he wasn’t sure how to even do anything about it without a first aid kit.  So he settled for stealing an unopened box of tissues and a roll of duct tape from his floor’s janitorial closet and just cleaning up the mess until it stopped bleeding.  After forty-five minutes, when the bleeding had essentially stopped, he covered the wound with tissues, then applied some duct tape to act as a bandage.  From then on, he’d take it easy.  He’d avoid people touching him.

On the fifth day he was running low on clean clothes.  He decided to finally bite the bullet and go do some laundry.  With so little in the way of clothing, he was able to stuff it all in his duffel and carry it down to the dormitory lounge.  He found the RA playing on her laptop at a desk and approached her.

Once he’d caught her attention, he asked, “Do you know where the nearest laundromat is?”

“The laundry room is in the basement.”  The RA stared at the clear plastic baggie of quarters he was holding, then looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.  “You… uh, you know you don’t need to pay to wash clothes, right?”

Sam could feel his ears turning pink with embarrassment, but he didn’t want to admit that he’d never had access to such services for free outside of when he’d stayed at Bobby’s.  “Yeah, I was gonna get a soda.”

She gave a little shrug at the explanation, then went back to her game.  After a little searching he found the laundry room.  It even had a supply rack full of detergents and cleaning products that were completely unattended.  He started his single load before sitting down by the machine.  About ten minutes later, several students entered and complained to each other about having to do their own laundry.  It was hard for Sam to imagine who else might have previously done their laundry, if not them.  When they were done starting their machines, they left.  

For a moment he furrowed his brow at the reckless abandonment of their clothes, then he realized that people there weren’t worried about someone stealing their stuff.  He was at an expensive private university.  Most of the students were probably well off.  If their clothes had ever been stolen at a laundromat, they’d probably just bought new ones—Hell, most of the students probably had had homes with washers and dryers in them.  He considered leaving his clothes to go do something else, just like any other student might do… but he wasn’t quite prepared to risk it yet.  Maybe someday.

The stark financial contrast had struck again the next day while he was shopping for class supplies.  When he’d arrived on campus he’d had $512.75 in cash on him.  That amount was intended to last until he could find a part-time job, though he’d given himself permission to play a little pool if he really needed the additional funds in the meantime.  Unfortunately, he’d overestimated both the number of pool halls in the area and the amount of free time that would be available.  At that point his current savings were only $485.96, which had seemed like a lot… until he went to buy his course materials.

Sam stared at the $320 textbook.  It was over one thousand pages of pristinely curated knowledge complete with twenty detailed flowcharts and a fifty-page bibliography.  Unfortunately, its most prominent feature in his mind was the fact that it, along with the rest of his course materials, wasn’t covered by any of the handful of scholarships he’d cobbled together.  He flipped through the pages to see how densely written the text was in an attempt to guess how long the reading assignments might be.  About two-thirds of the way through the book was the security sensor.  An old reflex reminded him that he could easily slip the sensor out of the book, then steal it.  But he wasn’t that kind of person anymore—he’d always hated being that kind of person and he wouldn’t return to that sort of life.

“Excuse me,” he said to get the attention of a nearby employee.  “Is there some way to set up a payment plan or something?”

“Sorry, we don’t do that sort of thing.”

“How much are all of the required books together?” Sam asked as he handed over his course list, then followed her to one of the register computers.

“It looks like…”  The employee chewed her lip while totaling it up.  “$1,076.32 with tax.”

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded for a few seconds.  Those were just the necessary books and it was more than twice the amount of money that he had.  He could hurry and try to find a few less-savory ways of make some money, but even at his best that much would be hard to scrounge up over any less than a few days or a week.  He’d hoped to have his books in time for the first days of classes, which began in only two days.  Not to mention, he needed to buy other supplies like pens and binders, since he didn’t own a laptop.

“How… how long do I have to buy them?” he asked, voice tinged with disappointment.  “I mean, if it takes me some time to get… things together—how long are you gonna keep them in stock?”

The bookstore employee’s eyes took in the handsewn  patching on the elbow of his hoodie, which he anxiously tried to cover.  She gestured for him to come a little closer, then leaned forward so that she could speak to him in a voice that was soft enough so that no one else would hear.

“Talk to your professors and ask them if older versions of the textbooks will work.  The library should have a few copies of older textbooks or you can try to buy them off past students.  Check the bulletin boards,” she suggested.  “If you really do need the latest version, we should have them for another week.  And talk to financial aid.  They might partially cover the books if you really need the help.”

He nodded at her words and his voice broke slightly when he eventually managed to say, “Thank you.”

When his medical insurance through the school became effective, he decided to finally take advantage of those services.  He’d of course been to a hospital before, but as far as he could remember it’d only been for a few trips to the emergency room when his or Dean’s injuries had been too severe for their dad to mend himself.  Though, they’d never left the ER in a typical fashion, instead having to sneak out before Child Protective Services were called or the bill was delivered.  Despite having more legitimacy through the presence of coverage, he still opted to go to the dentist first as his small step into civilian wellness.

The receptionist at the dentist’s office handed him a clipboard full of intake forms, then gestured for him to take a seat in the waiting area.  Only a minute after sitting down and starting the paperwork, he got up to ask her a clarifying question.  He’d never had insurance before and didn’t want to mess anything up.  Before fully returning to his seat, he spotted another unclear instruction and turned back to her.  He ended up just standing at the counter while filling out the intake paperwork with her help.  

He felt profoundly embarrassed.  There he was having his hand held through basic medical forms while going to college for pre-law.  A few pieces of paper should’ve been the least of his problems.  But he was an outsider trying to navigate a new system.  He tried to remind himself that he was a quick learner, and that the only way to learn was to tackle the unknown... even when it was disheartening.

At some point he’d make an appointment to see a doctor, but first he wanted to remove the remaining stitches from his side.  He didn’t know how to explain away such an obviously unprofessional attempt at treating a noteworthy injury.  Technically he was eighteen and was free to make those sorts of poor decisions, but quite a few recent scars hinted at damage done while he was still a minor under his dad’s care.  He had no idea if John could get in trouble for it at that point, but he didn’t intend on testing his dad’s limits.

When the examination was done, Sam was informed that he had numerous cavities from a lifetime without trips to the dentist and that his teeth were severely damaged from grinding while he’d slept.  The dentist suggested that it might be related to stress and that the damage had probably been done over the course of several years.  Repairing the damage would take multiple visits that would inevitably have to be spread out so that he could manage the $50 per visit copay.  In addition to that, at night he would have to wear a mouthguard to prevent the grinding until his anxiety improved.  He would also need to use a retainer at night for several months or years in order to correct the alignment problems that had resulted from never having braces as a child.

That night before bed he popped in his temporary mouth guard.  He felt a bit silly about the fact that he’d soon be wearing a retainer, which was the sort of equipment he’d previously associated with kids.  But he was having to go through many of the basics that well-off civilians took for granted and got out of the way in their youth.  Eventually, he’d have to go easier on himself.  All journeys had beginnings; it was okay for him to start there.

Classes started a week after he’d arrived.  Finding a new routine was profoundly welcome.  The predictability was something he could finally rely on and it was a distraction from his fears.  He’d always loved school as something to consume his mind— something other than worries about monsters or memories of his dad’s hurtful words.  School had been the place where he’d had his best chance at being himself.  He’d even had his first kiss with a boy at school when he was in seventh grade.

In many ways college was different than he’d expected, in some ways for the better and others for the worse.  To his delight he could generally set his own challenge level through switching to harder classes, taking on a larger course load, or by doing extracurricular activities—granted he hadn’t attempted to join any clubs or the like.  The prospect of being surrounded by civilians that were his own age and working in close proximity to them was still a bit intimidating.  He’d always been a bit socially awkward at school, not catching all of the pop culture references and being uncertain how to relate to other kids' mundane troubles.  

On the plus side, it seemed that in college generally other students were happy to leave him alone.  Despite the loneliness that gently nibbled at him through the days, and gnawed more prominently when he lay in bed with insomnia at night, he was grateful to be left alone.  He wasn’t sure how to make friends; he’d barely ever had a real one.  The change from hunter life to student life had been too recent and traumatic for him to even begin analyzing how to make friends.  After a few weeks, when his nerves were a bit better, maybe he’d observe some of his classmates during the seminars and see if he could find someone who might share some sort of common ground with him.  Then he could figure out a few topics to discuss and an introduction.  From there he’d have to wing it, but with his experience charming witnesses as someone else, surely he could figure out a way to be somewhat likeable as himself.

In the meantime, he was too vulnerable to risk more than a sentence or two of social interaction.  He could feel his undiagnosed anxiety manifesting in his trembling hands, pounding heart, and the painfully long, sleepless nights.  There was this terrible feeling that something was wrong and waiting to spring upon him—it was like he was perpetually caught in the moment just after entering a haunted building and hearing the door close behind him.  His senses were strained, searching for signs of danger, and he was ready to run or fight.  On his sixth day of classes, the extent of his fear had hit him hard.

He’d stayed in the library to do all of his homework until close to midnight, but his sleep-deprived mind wasn’t thinking clearly enough to make any progress worthwhile.  When he was walking back to his dormitory he could hear sudden movement behind him.  The slinking, scratching sound reminded him of something—undoubtedly a hunt.  His mind started racing, trying to identify the sound, whatever was stalking him.  He reached into his bag and clutched his knife, but before he could turn around he heard snickering.  The noise had been a couple making out against a wall and only of their shoes had slid on some gravel.

For a moment his fear had gotten the better of him and he’d nearly pulled a weapon.  He wasn’t chasing monsters anymore, and they shouldn’t be chasing him.  The odds of him running into anything was so small that it was more dangerous for him to be armed than not, especially while he was struggling with his past trauma.  When he got back to his room, he put his knife away in his nightstand.  As much as he felt naked without it, he wouldn’t carry it around with him anymore.  

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to deal with his fear.  What did civilians do with their fear?  They didn’t have it as much—at least some of them.  He supposed some of the civilians could just call the police and rely on that to protect them.  Regardless of the fact that he was a white man, he’d never really felt like he’d had access to the protection of police before.  Even at school he’d always been armed, which could’ve easily gotten him into serious trouble.  When he was out on a hunt, he was almost always breaking at least a handful of laws.  And even just being at a motel was problematic considering the illicit goods his family kept.   He’d always been in incriminating circumstances.  His dad had raised him to be wary of the police because if he wasn’t conning them like a top hunter, then they would catch him and either arrest or kill him.  Law enforcement couldn’t help him with his problems; growing up he’d known that.  Whether that was still true or not, he felt it.

“You’re a civilian now,” Sam whispered to himself.  “You’re in their system….  You’re in the system.”

A week later, Sam was sitting against the base of a tree, enjoying its shade and reading.  The temperate weather was such a welcome change from any number of other places where he’d spent his Augusts, baking in the unbearable heat.  He’d taken to studying outdoors whenever possible, outside of his claustrophobic dorm room and near the cheerful voices of follow students—near, but never close enough or in a posture that might invite interaction… or so he’d thought.

“Hey, big guy,” someone called in his direction, making Sam look up.  A group of four large, male students were approaching him.  Three of them were dressed in vaguely athletic clothes prominently featuring the Stanford logo.  Aside from their overall aesthetic, the way they carried themselves and their overly confident demeanor screamed ‘jock,’ which wasn't inherently a problem….  Though he did feel some heartburn coming on.  “You new here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, unsure of what they wanted.  For whatever reason, the sight of them made him painfully aware that he was unarmed.  It was probably the fact that he was sitting on the ground and they’d, intentionally or not, positioned themselves to be standing over him, surrounding him with his back against a tree.  He tried to take a calming breath or two, but they weren’t really helping and it just made him worry that they would spot his fear.

“We’re holding tryouts for the football team.”  One of them pitched the idea.  “You should swing by.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” Sam replied with an attempt at a polite smile.  He looked back down at his book, but they didn’t leave.

“Have you ever played?” asked another one.

“A little, back in high school—“  It had just been for a few weeks during a physical education class, but the group didn’t give him a chance to finish his explanation.

“Come on.  Just try out.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam said more firmly than before.  “I have to focus on my classes.”

“We all take classes and play.  You can do both.”

“Listen, I’m just not interested.”

“You’re new, so maybe you don’t get what being on the team would mean for you.”  One of them grinned in an unsavory way, then boasted, “You have no idea how much pussy you can get—“

“I don’t care about….”  He couldn’t bring himself to talk about chasing pussy no matter how much using their vernacular might’ve helped him.  “I’m not interested in chasing women.”

He’d meant it in a more general way, expressing his disinterest in pursuing any sort of social excitement, but he realized that his words had missed the mark.  The four men all shifted uncomfortably, probably torn between their prior attempt to woo him and the thought that he might be attracted to them.  In a particularly unwelcome moment, they all seemed to realize that their positioning had left Sam’s head at roughly the same level as their crotches.  The players took a half-step away from Sam, and took stances that bordered on defensive or hostile—almost as if he’d somehow entrapped them rather than them encircling him.

“Fag,” muttered one of the jocks.

Sam’s heart was pounding.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  There hadn’t been anything inherently queer about his statement, but being incidentally outed was still being outed.  Though he wasn’t sure whether the slur had been more hyperbole and his visible embarrassment would be the thing that really gave him away.  He was trying to compose himself, to recover enough to respond or even just to gather up his things and flee—though he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they started following him.  In theory he could take them in a fight, but that might’ve been the last thing he wanted to do.  He wasn’t sure if he was willing to take a beating in order to pretend to be a civilian.

“Hey, assholes!” shouted a blonde guy standing a few yards away.  “He said no, so leave him alone.  What are you, three-year olds or rapists?”

Being called rapists made the football players suddenly recoil even more.  There were enough scandals about college sports players committing sexual assault in the news that hurling that accusation had been a direct and effective hit.  The four guys all retreated from the tense situation to find someone else to solicit.

Sam realized he must’ve been visibly shaken by the encounter when his rescuer slowly approached him and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  Thank you.”  

Sam rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to shake off as much of the adrenaline as he could.  Unfortunately, now that he could see the blonde guy better, his heart was pounding for a whole new reason.  He was beautiful, with a lean build, messy hair, and intensely light blue eyes.  His clothes were fit jeans and a t-shirt that somehow managed to be a flattering cut.  But despite the casual clothing, his watch and leather laptop bag hinted that he was at least somewhat well-off financially.  Sam hastily got to his feet so that he wasn’t staring up at the guy… or impulsively checking out his crotch.

“Sorry about those guys.”  The rescuer held out his hand to Sam, which he accepted in a quick shake.  “I’m Brady.”

“Sam,” he replied, thankfully minus any nervous squeak to his voice.  “Do you know them?”

“Those goons hassled me yesterday.  Well, I’m not as big as you, so they weren’t nearly as aggressive.”  Brady smiled.  “What are you, 6’3”?”

“A bit over 6’4” last time I checked.”

“Wow, I bet you’re popular with the ladies.”

Sam made a non-commital noise.  Historically he hadn’t flirted with women much, except in front of his family when it seemed necessary to meet expectations.  It’s not that he didn’t find women attractive; he just liked men more and had more experience with them.  

Back before Stanford, he’d sneak off to gay bars whenever he was in a large enough city.  There he could relax without fear of his family finding him and that feeling of freedom had led to a lot of experimentation that had been almost entirely with men.  Upon arriving in the San Francisco Bay Area, he’d searched online for gay bars and was surprised to find that there were many more than he’d seen elsewhere in the country.  There was even a significantly LGBTA+ community in a neighborhood in San Francisco called the Castro.  Someday he’d have to work up the nerve to visit.

“Well, maybe you’re just popular all around,” Brady amended after seeing Sam’s hesitation.

“Not quite….  I’m new around here, and uh,”  Sam chewed his lip a bit, unsure whether to say anymore.  “I’m not exactly good at talking with people.”

“So far you don’t seem to be doing too bad.  Maybe you just need a little practice?”  When he didn’t immediately decline the invitation, Brady picked up Sam’s book and backpack from the ground, then handed it to him.  “Today is too important for you to be spending it studying.”

“What’s so special about today?” Sam asked, unsure of what major event he’d forgotten.

“It’s the day we met.”

They strolled around campus for almost three hours, then walked the short ways to downtown Palo Alto for a few more hours of aimless wandering.  Brady was probably the most charming person he’d ever met.  That was the only explanation for how they could’ve talked so long.  Sam had barely spoken to anyone for more than fifteen minutes at a time, but hours—he never would’ve imagined something like that.  Brady was also a freshman, focusing on chemical biology and pre-med, but he seemed to know everything about anything.  And he made jokes.  

Sam didn’t know anyone who had that sort of lightheartedness.  The entire feel of their interaction was different than what he’d previously known.  There was such an ease to the whole thing, that when Brady hooked Sam’s arm in order to redirect them, the surprise contact hadn’t triggered any unpleasant memories or a mild panic attack.

“Come on, I know this great Thai place just down the street,” Brady explained as he pointed in the new direction of travel.

Sam stopped walking, slipping his limb free from Brady.  He couldn’t go out to dinner; he didn’t have enough money for that kind of indulgence.  His scholarship included an on-campus meal plan and that was what he had to live off of until he could find some source of income.  He was ashamed of his circumstances and didn’t want to let the lovely day end so soon, but he couldn’t just walk into a restaurant knowing that he couldn’t pay for his meal.

“I shouldn’t….”  He anxiously pulled away from Brady and held his arms to himself while avoiding looking his guide in the eyes.  “I mean, I can’t….”

“I’m driving you crazy, aren’t I?” Brady guessed.

“No, you’re not—anything but that.”  Sam gave him a reassuring smile.  “I mean, I’d like to go get dinner with you.  It’s just I haven’t gotten a job yet and with books and everything....”

Brady just stared at him for a second, processing the fact that his invitation was being declined over finances.  Sam could feel himself turning pink.

“It’s my treat,” Brady offered, then added after seeing Sam’s discomfort at the act of charity, “You can pay me some other time—we’ll figure something out.  Anyway, I don’t have anything else to do.  You’re really doing me a favor by keeping me company.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that doesn’t have a problem making friends,” Sam observed.

“I have high standards.”

“Then are you sure you want to have dinner with me?”

“Without a doubt.”

Sam continued blushing for reasons completely unrelated to embarrassment.  His mouth curled reflexively into a smile and he had to look at a ground for a moment.  He bashfully tried to redirect Brady’s attention away from his physical tells.

“I’ve never had Thai food.”

Brady’s bright blue eyes lit up.  “Well, now I need to take you to dinner.  Not knowing what pad thai is is just criminal.”

It was the best meal he could remember having.  Not only was the food delicious, the company continued to be enchanting.  At one point while they were chatting over dessert, their feet touched under the table and Brady’s fingertips delicately traced the rim of his wine glass.  The moment made Sam’s stomach knot in a strange new way that he enjoyed.

After dinner, they walked back to Sam’s dormitory, stopping in the hall, just outside of his room.  Brady moved a little closer, testing whether he would pull back or if there were any mixed signals.  Sam felt a bit faint at the realization that that incredible guy in front of him might’ve been posturing for a kiss.  Brady candidly glanced down at Sam’s lips, then smiled slightly.  Sam titled his head and leaned in a little, ready to convert the maneuver into a stretch if he’d accidentally misread the situation.  But Brady took a half-step forward and kissed him.

Sam had never kissed another man so publicly before.  It was mildly terrifying, yet more than that it was thrilling.  He didn’t have to be scared of having his family find out, and despite the awkward interaction with the football players, the overall environment seemed more tolerant.  After all, Brady was more familiar with the area and he felt safe sharing a kiss where any number of other students might see.  When Brady cupped the back of Sam’s head, their kiss became more passionate, making Sam grateful that all of his hunter paraphernalia was hidden and his bed was clear of weapons.  And, thankfully, he’d taken out his last stitches two days earlier.  

Brady reached into his pocket—almost certainly to check for a condom.  Sam was grateful.  He hadn’t expected to need one so soon after moving and hadn’t yet located a Planned Parenthood where he could get some for free.  The whole outing with Brady had been great, though not what he was used to.  A quick one night stand would be some welcome familiarity.  But instead, Brady pulled out his cell phone.

“What’s your number?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, completely thrown by the question.  This guy wasn’t just trying to have sex with him.  He wanted them to see each other again.  To Sam’s surprise, he realized that they’d gone on a date or something, and it might not be the only time they did it.  No one had ever asked for his phone number before.  It took him a while to remember and recite it.

Brady immediately texted him, then said, “There.  You’ve got my number now too.”  He gave Sam another, longer kiss before pulling back and smiling slyly at him.  “I’ll see you later.”

Sam went into his room, tossed his backpack onto the floor, then lay down in his bed.  His dick was partially hard and his whole body was shaking from nerves or adrenaline.  A few tears ran down his cheeks—not tears of fear or sadness….  Okay, maybe a little fear.  He had a thing for someone.  More importantly, someone had a thing for him too.  As startling as the development was, it was a good thing.  Things were finally beginning to get better.

His phone buzzed.  When he checked it there was a text message from Brady.  “Want to get breakfast tomorrow and compare our schedules?  I still need to pick out two more elective classes.  Maybe we can take something together?”

“Sounds great,” Sam replied before starting to touch himself to the thought of the smart, beautiful man who wanted something more from him than just sex.

[histologyapology]

Quiz Review #1: Water Quality

hhhhhhh i really don’t want to study tonight but this is a fairly interesting topic so I figured I’d try to bribe myself into some review by posting about it here. alright leggo. giant wall of text under the cut, strap in lads. 

Water Quality as it relates to histology is probably an overlooked topic in many labs. Many labs use tap water as a bluing reagent, and so the logic may be that if it’s good enough in that context then it must be fine for other steps in process, such as for water baths and rinsing steps in the H&E strainers. This isn’t the case; the ideal lab will have a water purification system that allows for water that goes through several layers of deionization, filtration and sterilization before it ever comes out of the spigot. But that’s getting ahead of things; let’s talk about why tap water isn’t usually a good idea for use in the histological setting:

Why is tap water bad? Five main Reasons:

 Tap water contains inorganic ions, which can negatively effect the quality of a whole bunch of special stains. Silver stains in particular are very vulnerable to inorganic ion contamination; it is common practice at my school to make students do a Gomori Methenamine Silver stain with tap water and a second with DI, just to demonstrate the difference the contrast and background staining issues. 

Tap water contains organic contaminants, such as those created by the breakdown of plants and algae. Bacteria and fungi find these substances extremely snack-able, which can lead to some false positives on bug stains. We actually had an issue with this in the lab at my previous rotation; the milipore guys wouldn’t tell us exactly what happened but going by the weird fish smell and the MANY  false positive bug stains from that week, we think it was an algal bloom/dieoff that fueled a giant bacteria party in the DI system! Fun times!                                        Another source of organic contaminants is the breakdown of plastic shipping materials and plumbing pipes, such as the polymers that leach out of PVC and water carboys. These are usually indicated by a harsh ‘chemical-y’ smell.

 Certain areas of the country may have issues with particulate and colloid pollution; most of the large particles (sand, rocks, plant bits) should be filtered from tap water by waste management, but certain substances such as calcium carbonate (aka limescale) are hard to get rid of and may cause crusty deposits on machinery and artifacts on slides.

Tap water can contain bacteria and their by-products, which is a big issue if you’re running any number of bug stains or histochemical enzyme tests. The bacteria themselves can give you a false positive on things like Grams, Gomori and Warthin-Starrys, and those bacteria contain can also cause degrade endogenous nucleic acids and screw up F/ISH testing.  

The last and probably rarest class of tap water pollutants is Gases and Fumes,including things like carbon dioxide, nitrogen, and fumes from acids and volatile solvents used in the lab. Carbon dioxide in particular can be an issue, because too much CO2 in water will cause it to acidify, which could mess with everything from basic H&E staining to tissue morphology. Xylene and alcohol evaporate very quickly; a lab with many open containers and/or poor ventilation may have areas where fumes ‘collect’ and these can sometimes condense onto an open water bath (tho can i just say? If your lab has open processors/open vats of xylene just sitting around??? get out of there, you’re going to get sick. rat out your management to OSHA. love yourself. jeeze). 

Alright so now you know why tap water is garbage, now let’s talk about how to measure the degree and severity of how garbage it might be. 

Measuring contamination:

Resistivity: a measurement of how strongly the water opposes an electical current moving through it. Remember genchem? yeah it sucked, but remember when you did that experiment where you put different salts into water and then recorded how easy or hard it was for an electric current to get through said water? It’s like that, but the inverse; resistivity is the inverse of conductivity. Pure distilled water does not conduct electricity well; it has a high resistivity. If your water has a bunch of inorganic contaminants in it, it will have a low resistivity, it’s going to conduct electricity very well, and the College of American Pathologists will yell at you and make you fix it or your lab will lose accreditation. Resistivity is measured using certified and calibrated meter. Details about the calibration of the meter and the periodic resistivity testing you do on your lab’s DI system should be recorded and presented to CAP when they come a-knockin’ at inspection time. 

Colony Forming Units: this is a measure of bacterial contamination where you plate some of your DI water onto some agar and see what grows. Make the nerds down in Micro do it so you don’t contaminate the plate with the sleeve of your scrubs and give yourself a heart attack. This is another measurement of water quality that CAP’s going to want to see during inspection, so keep good records. 

Alright so now we know what garbage is in tap water, we know how to measure that there garbage, now let’s figure out how to make some water that isn’t terrible, some nice pure delicious Science Water ® :

Purifying water: Seven ways

Distillation: Mankind’s been doing this one for thousands of years, tho usually it’s for getting drunk. The idea is to boil water and collect the steam that comes off. This will get rid of larger particulate pollution but may not get rid of some chemical pollution, so it’s best paired with another method. 

Reverse osmosis: ‘RO’ involves forcing contaminated water through a very fine membrane under enormous pressure. RO systems are expensive and making large quantities of water using RO can be time consuming, but the water quality they produce is generally worth it. 

Ion exchange: ion exchange involves two beds of resin, one positively charged and the other negatively charged. Contaminated water cycles through these beds, and any ionic contaminants are extracted from the water. The water itself dissociates into H+ and OH- ions, which can then be re-constituted to make pure water. 

electrodionization (EDI): EDI is a combination of Ion exchange and electrodialysis. The physics of how it works is a little complicated but there’s a nice video about it by Siemen’s here if you’re interested. The important thing to remember is that it is constantly regenerating the resins it uses in the ion exchange step, which makes it attractive to labs who don’t want to do a lot of maintenance (it is still recommended that you replace the ion beads periodically for quality control reasons; everything has a shelf life, you don’t want to push it). 

activated carbon: another classic. Carbon tends to be very porous, so if you let gravity pull water down through a thick layer of it, most larger particulates will get caught in these pores. This is neither a specific nor very powerful form of filtration, however, and is best paired with other methods. 

UV sanitation: A UV light is used to kill any aquatic life forms that may be in the water. Fishkeepers may be familiar with this method, it’s good for cutting down on algal blooms. 

Fine Filtration: a variety of filters can be used to reduce the amount of particulate pollution in water. they are split into two main categories: microporous and ultrafiltration. Microporous filters are basically large mats of fibrous material that physically trap particles while letting water flow through. Ultrafiltration membranes work at the molecular level, separating molecules based on size. Filtration with the method is extremely slow, so most labs opt to only use ultrafiltration for cell culture and molecular techniques. 

So there’s an important question outside of all the different filtration choices, and that is: How pure do you *need* your water do be? How much of it do you anticipate your lab needing? How fast do you need it to be able to replenish? Most labs will decide to choose some combination of these methods in order to best meet their needs and deal with the contaminants presented by their local water sources. The lab for my current rotation uses a combination of RO, EDI and UV, and circulates/re-filters unused DI several times each hour to avoid stagnation. We also have a number of rules about decontaminating pitchers, carboys and water lines within our stainers. We are strongly encouraged to use clear glass containers whenever possible even tho we all wear gloves all the time so we drop beakers all over the place ive only been there two weeks and its almost happened to me twice now

There are several classifications of water set by the Clinical Laboratory Standards Institute with varying degrees of purity for use in the laboratory setting:

Clinical laboratory reagent water (CLRW): In my lab, this is what comes out of the DI tap. It’s whats called for in most stain recipes and is what we put in flotation baths. 

Special reagent water: we use this for reconstituting antibodies and the F/ISH team uses it for PCR. It comes from the milipore machine in the genetics ward because they need it more often and apparently the machines are very expensive so we only get one per department. 

instrument water: It won’t clog your stainer lines but it’s not good enough for your flotation bath. 

‘water supplied by instrument manufacturer’: I’m told no one does this any more. apparently once upon a time lab machine companies would send you big ol boxes of water in the mail to use exclusively on their machines, but then no one was checking to see how chemically stable the packaging was and there were issues with polymer contamination; this was very much before my time so i don’t have a lot of details. 

Commercially bottled purified water: another method that’s no longer popular since apparently most  bottled water is just tap water from someplace else and you’d still have to plate for CFU’s, test for resistivity etc

autoclave and wash water: tap water. Remember though, you should always give your glassware a final rinse with DI before hanging it up to dry toget rid of anything funky in the tap water. 

So yeah that’s how you make and monitor some sweet sweet Science Water, aka the Good Stuff. My next unit is on PAS/PASD, that’ll probably be up next sunday-ish. Til then,

-Reby