#and I physically and mentally cannot sit through module after module that ARE SO WORD HEAVY

[the-wereraven]

I hate you, Intergrated Marketing Communications

[capsironunderoos]

Fire

DINCEMBER - December 7 - Fire

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din’s cyare has been captured and held at an Imperial base, and he stops at nothing to get her back.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of torture via Imps, a very angry Din, some fighting, and very brief mentions of death

Author’s Note: Ahhh this is so overdue! My student teaching started back up again after finals and I had some assignments to complete for it that kept me from writing. I had hoped to write more today, but that just didn’t happen. I hope to just post a bunch of the Dincember prompts at once in the next few days to get back on track! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hoth Chocolate

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

This is the hardest that he has ever pushed his body. 

His arms are weak and his legs tremble, but he doesn’t stop. 

He can’t stop. 

If he does, he will suffer an unbearable loss, and there is only so much he can carry, so much that he can endure. 

His blaster never leaves his hand, becoming almost an extension of himself as he fires without so much as a glance. 

It makes no difference, the blaster bolt hits homes every time. 

He is focused, his skills as a bounty hunter and Mandalorian warrior continuing to serve him as he tears through the Imperial facility. 

Din thinks to himself that the Imps are beginning to multiply faster than womp rats, but he does not stop to dwell on the implications of that thought. 

If he stops for anything, to catch his breath, to check his surroundings, he will surely collapse. 

The stress of the past few days, of the constant searching and questioning have begun to take their toll. 

He shakes the thought of stopping from his mind, forcing himself to continue, regardless of the pain in his legs, and the ache that has already settled into his shoulders. 

He has never fought so hard before. 

His hands land punches that force the receivers into the nearest wall, and his feet connect to bones with such strength that the sound of their cracking rattles around his helmet like thunder. 

He spots an officer now, watches as he is hunched over a switchboard, punching at buttons as he glances from the control panel to the Mandalorian stalking towards him. 

Din will not admit it, but the fear in his eyes spurs him on. 

Good, he thinks, let them tremble before me, let them be afraid of the repercussions of what they have done. 

When he reaches the control panel, he grabs the officer by his throat, pushing him as he walks until they reach the wall. 

The officer’s head bounces off of the wall from the force of Din’s hand around his throat, cueing his hat to fall, and the echoing thud of his skull settles into a sick sense of satisfaction in Din’s stomach. 

“Where is she?” 

He growls out from behind his helmet, and the modulator amplifies the anger tenfold. 

The officer is visibly sweating now, thick bullets running down his forehead as he tries to look anywhere but at the enraged Mandalorian in front of him. 

This only stokes the fury growing in Din’s chest, and he picks his hand up off of the officer’s neck just long enough for him to gulp in a breath of air before his hand is settled around his throat again, and this time Din does not hold back. 

He cannot stop himself before a sickening crack fills the room around him, and the officer falls to the ground below him. 

Din huffs in annoyance, his adrenaline beginning to surge again. 

The pounding of his feet begins to subside as the chemical overtakes his body, and he feels a renewing sense of energy. 

He strides over to the control panel and is pleased to see different angles of a room displayed on it. 

The feed is live, and he stands stoically still as he sees you suddenly fall into frame. 

Your clothes are tattered and dirty, and your hair falls around your face as you collide with the floor. 

He can see your chest rising and falling, and a sense of relief begins to overtake the adrenaline. 

Din silently chants for you to get up, to show him that you never gave up hope that he would come for you. 

Maker how he hopes and wishes that you never gave up on him, that you always knew that he would travel to the farthest edges of the Outer Rim just to have you safe again. 

His heart rate speeds up when he sees two stormtroopers taking their time as they walk to where you still lay on the floor. It’s clear that they are speaking amongst themselves, but he doesn’t know how to work the control panel in order to hear what they are saying. 

He watches as one of them bends down to scoop you up and off of the floor, and as soon as he does, you leap up, swinging your leg to knock his out from under him. He lands on his back, and before either of them can react, you have grabbed his blaster, aimed, and expertly killed the both of them. 

Din watches with bated breath now, and he isn’t sure he remembers how to move. 

Seeing such a small glimpse of you, and in such a drastically different mental state than the last time he saw you, is enough for him to forget how to even breathe at all. 

His brain screams at him to move, to find you, but he does not listen until he sees you run out of the frame. 

He locates the identification numbers of your cell on the control panel and begins to run. 

Din is sure that the pounding of his feet against the floor would be enough to crack the tile, but he doesn’t care. 

He pushes himself, harder than he ever has before, to reach you as quickly as he can. 

You have been gone from his presence for far too long, and he cannot stand another second without you. 

As he rounds yet another corner, he knocks into something solid, and further extends his already drawn blaster in order for it to be in front of him, pointing at whatever he just knocked over. 

His actions quickly change as he registers that it’s you. 

You quickly jump to your feet, the trooper’s blaster you had stolen aimed at Din. 

He notices your hands shaking, and he can see bruises and cuts laced around your face. He notes how swollen your right eye is, and the blood resting against your split lip. 

“Din?” You whisper, almost in disbelief, and his heart plummets to his stomach. 

Had you given up hope that he would come for you? 

“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them,” you begin to repeat your words, and Din notes that you are still aiming the blaster at him. 

He slowly holsters his own, before raising his hands in surrender in front of him. 

“Cyare, it’s me. It’s me. It’s Din.” 

He repeats, hoping that the words will register and that you will lower the blaster. 

Upon hearing his name, you do just that, and the blaster clatters to the ground before you fall into his raised arms. He is caught off-guard, but moves quickly to catch you before you meet the ground. 

You are crying now, soft whimpers as you clutch onto the chestplate of his beskar. 

He wraps you up into his chest, pulling you to him as he holds you. 

The alarms are blaring, and the lights are starting to flash, but he ignores all of it. 

When he hears the distant tone of talk through a stormtrooper helmet, he does not hesitate to scoop you into his arms. When you don’t protest, he looks down to see that you are either sleeping or have passed out, and he hopes that it’s the former. 

Despite the fact that he had to fight his way in, he manages to remember a way out, and by some miracle he doesn’t run into any trouble, except a mouse droid he has to shoo off. 

Once he emerges into daylight again, he begins running and he feels his body physically sigh in relief when he sees the Crest sitting just before him.

---

After jumping onto the Crest and immediately taking-off, Din quickly discovered that you had indeed passed out. He had let you be for the few moments it took him to launch the Razor Crest, but as soon as he was able to click on the auto-pilot he was back at your side, moving you to rest on the cot the both of you share. 

He sits beside you on said cot now, his hands moving to cup your face and turn it towards him. 

“Cyar’ika. Please wake up,” he begs, and oh, how he begs. 

He begins to make promises to the Maker, to the stars, hell, he thinks he even makes a promise to the force at one point. 

Din knows you require medical attention, but he wants you awake so that you can explain to him what has happened to you, even if he is unsure that he will be able to listen to you describe what you have endured. 

His hands move to your shoulders, and with a firm, but gentle, shake you gasp back into consciousness. 

You grab at his arms and he helps you sit up before realizing that you think he is one of them. 

“Cyare, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, it’s Din.” He whispers, and you look at him with wild, wide eyes. 

He can tell you are trying to figure out if you should trust him, but when you catch a glimpse of the signet on his right shoulder pauldron relief instantly floods your eyes and you look down at the similar symbol on your skin. 

His right hand finds it, his glove-clad fingers coming to rest against the mudhorn there on your wrist. 

You look back up at him then, and you can feel the emotion and exhaustion rolling off of him. 

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he deadpans, but his words are soft and laced with care. 

You nod and allow him to lead you into the cockpit of the Crest. 

He softly guides you into the pilot’s seat before he disappears for a minute to retrieve supplies, but you barely notice his missing presence. 

Your eyes have found the stars, and you drink them in as if they are cold Bantha milk. 

It had been days since you had seen them, and you missed how many there were, how easy it was to stare at them and have them calm every thought in your mind. 

When Din returns, he stands for a moment to watch you look at the stars in wonder. 

Their light shines into the Crest, illuminating the cockpit and painting a stark silver onto your features. He notices then just how bad your bruised eye is swelling, and how the bright light from the stars seems to deepen every cut he finds on your skin. 

Din can’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the thought of what you’ve been through, and at the thought of what would have happened had he not gotten there when he did. 

Hearing his breath escape through the modulator cues you to snap your attention in his direction, and he wonders how long it will be before his presence no longer incites fear. 

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. It’s your Din. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Your eyes stay wide and wary, but a small smile works its way onto your lips before it falls again. The cut on them has begun to bleed at the motion, and Din slowly makes his way to you to tend to it. 

He squats down in front of you, and you sit rigidly still. 

He lifts a wet cloth in front of you, and watches as you look between it and him. 

“I need to clean that up, okay? Is it okay if I do that for you?” 

You slowly nod, and his left hand moves to cup your cheek and keep your head still as his right gently swipes at the blood sitting on your lip. When he is satisfied that he has stopped the blood flow, he exchanges the cloth for another. 

“Now, cyare, I need to clean up the cuts and bruises here okay?” 

At the word “here,” he taps his left thumb softly against your cheek as his hand still cups your face. 

You nod and he removes his hand to brush the hair out of your eyes and away from your face. 

You whimper at the loss of contact, and the sound and action is so unlike you that it catches Din off-guard. 

“Haar’chak, what did they do to you?” 

He whispers, and he takes note of the tears that begin to sit along your waterline in response. 

“I wouldn’t tell them,” you start, and your voice cracks at the use of it. 

Din is quick to hand you a glass of water, and you take it from him, greedily gulping it down. He wonders then if you have been fed or given water at all since your capture. 

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were, or where he was. That got me time with some angry troopers. I think they may have broken a rib or two. One of them could land a pretty solid right-hook, for an Imp.” 

You try to laugh off your words, to pass over them as if they are nothing, but the sound won't come. A sad smile rests on your lips as Din continues his ministrations. His touch is soft as he does his best to clean the cuts on your face.

“Then I wouldn’t tell them your name, or the name of the child, and that afforded me a visit from an angry officer. He asked for the cameras to be turned off, and then proceeded to beat me so bad that I couldn’t stay conscious for most of it.” 

Din can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he continues to clean you up. They shake in both anger and sadness, and he is glad that it is time to apply the bacta patches. This gives him a moment to gain control over his nerves.

“I need to apply bacta now, okay?” He asks, and you nod. 

When the medicine hits your open wounds, a sharp hiss escapes through your gritted teeth, and Din’s heart constricts at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you shake your head before talking again, trying to mask the pain of the healing agent against your open cuts. 

“When I didn’t tell them if he was special, or gifted, or whatever they want to call him, they sent in the firing squad. That was when they told me you were there to rescue me. I didn’t fully believe them, but I knew if you were there that it would be my best chance to escape.” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you, cyare.”

You place your hand on his arm that rests in your lap, and he glances down at it.

“I never gave up that you would come for me, Din.”

He nods and returns to his work, his heart beating so fast he is sure that you can hear it hitting the beskar that sits on his chest.

As you sit in silence now, Din softly rubs at the cuts on your skin, his mind growing increasingly angry the more he thinks about what you endured, but his heart reaches out to you, aches for you. 

He was in pain too, upset that your capture had been because of him. That they had tortured you to get to him, to learn about the little one. 

As if you can read his mind, you ask him about Grogu.

“Where is he, Din? Please, please tell me he is okay,” you whisper, and it is the first time Din has been able to fully meet your eyes. 

“He is safe, cyare. I left him with Cara on Nevarro. We’re going to get him now.” 

You nod, satisfied with his response. Din hands you a cold compress and instructs you to press it onto your swollen eye. 

“I got this when I wouldn’t explain my relationship to you, or why I wear our clan symbol.” You mumble, and Din’s eyes flit to the mudhorn on your wrist once more. 

He thinks then about his clan of three, small and a little broken, but strong, and his all the same. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and you stare at him before he says it again, louder this time. 

“I’m sorry I turned my back for too long during that fight. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess, this is no life for you, or the child.” 

He rushes out, and you are shaking your head in disagreement so hard that it has started to ache. 

“Do not sit there and apologize to me, Din Djarin. I know what I signed up for, and I willingly signed up for it. I would give my life to protect that child, and I would do the same for you. Have I not proven that? Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” 

Din’s helmet jumps up at the quick movement he makes upon hearing those words escape your lips. 

His eyes search yours through the visor, and he finds nothing but sincerity staring back at him. 

“I’ll kill them for what they did to you, cyar’ika.” He states, and you smile at him. 

“I would set the world on fire to keep you warm.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

[ivegotthefanficinme]

Freedom Part 11 Mandalorian X Reader

Summary: An escaped slave owned by the Hutt clan, with the knowledge of dark clan secrets.  A bounty is set and the best hunter in the parsec is hired, The Mandalorian. Two vastly different paths cross. Both are scarred physically and mentally by their past. Can they ever truly be free? *SLOW BURN*

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of slavery, PTSD, Rape implications, FLUFF, Language

***This chapter is mainly fluff... much needed after the last few...

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 (You are here)

You woke up wrapped in Din’s arms in the same way you were after the first night you spent together. The only difference was that this time you were on the small cot where you had patched Din up numerous times now and the child was curled up against your stomach.

You stirred slightly, hissing in pain as Din’s hand moved to rest on your bruised hip. 

“Are you all right?” Din asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, “It’s just some bruises.”

“I’m sorry,” Din whispers, brushing his lips against the back of your neck. 

You curl up against him as the kid starts to wiggle, trying to push himself upright.

“I thought he would sleep longer. He normally does after doing things like that,” Din sighs, referring to how the child had miraculously healed his back shredded from the lashes. 

“Maybe he is getting stronger,” you breath, running your fingertips along the child’s long green ear. 

You jump when a sudden light rap on the outside of the ship startles you.

“That’s probably Karga and Cara. You stay there, I’ll let them in,” Din says.

He groans as he rolls over and rises to his feet, still sore from recent events. Grabbing his helmet, he slips it on as he presses the button to lower the ramp of the ship.

You sit up, aware of how much of a mess you must look as you nod to Karga and Cara in greeting. 

“You both look like shit…” Cara says as she leans against the wall of the Crest. 

Din just sighs in response, shaking his helmeted head. 

“So what the hell was all that? I had Cara burst into my cantina on Navaro and demand my help because you and your women, who I didn’t even know about, got yourselves into some deep shit,” asks Karga.

Din looks down, resting his hand on the back of his neck covered in fabric as he contemplates his answer. 

“Well… its a bit of a long story…”

“He saved me,” You answer, looking back to your two saviors, “About a cycle ago I escaped from that place. They placed a bounty on me and Mando hunted me down… but he chose not to return me. They found us though, even though we ran and tried to stay low. They took me back… and I guess he… he came to save me.”

“So you were… are… a….” Karga trails off.

“A slave? Yes. A sex slave? Yes. Assaulted on multiple occasions? Yes. Just about all of the terrible things you can think of have been done to me,” you finish for Karga. 

You wrap your arms around your knees, bringing them up to your chest. 

“You are one strong woman,” Cara says, “You got yourself a hell of a catch there Mando.”

You sweep the little on up into your arms, holding him close to you as his little hands grab at Din’s cloak that is still wrapped around you. 

“Thank you,” Din nods to Cara and Karga, “Thank you for everything.”

“Where are you two heading to next?” asks Cara.

“Back to Navaro, I have some business to attend to,” Din replies.

“Well, then I guess we will see you there.” Cara turns to Karga and motions for him to follow her off of the Crest. 

“Hey…” I blurt, Cara turns to look at me before she steps off of the ramp, “Thank you.”

She just nods and keeps walking. Din closes up the ship and turns back to you. 

He sits down next to you on the edge of the cot, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “I’m going to take off. You should get out of those scraps and put on something you feel more comfortable in.”

You lean into his touch, pressing a light kiss to the palm of his hand. Giving him a small smile, you respond, “Alright.”

He stands and heads up the ladder to take off. You are happy to be leaving Tayips, happy to never have to come back here, never have to go back to Limax’ palace, and never having to see Gravix ever again. 

You stand from the cot as you feel Din lift the ship off the ground. You dig through the trunk Din had given you ages ago to keep your belongings and pull out a comfortable pair of black leggings and a black T-shirt, items of clothing that you had bought with the credits Din always gave you after he collected a bounty. At first, you didn’t want to accept the money from him but he insisted that you should be able to save up for something if you wanted or buy things that catch your eye in the markets you visit on various planets. 

After you change, you place what are no more than scraps of fabric that you were wearing into the trunk, along with Din’s cloak. Then you go over to his trunk, pulling out a clean and slightly less tattered cloak for Din. You throw it over your shoulder and then head up the ladder to join Din.

“I brought you something,” You say as you stand next to him sitting in the pilot’s chair.

“Hm?” He asks through the modulator. 

“A fresh cloak?”

He switches the ship over to autopilot and then stands turning to face you. You bring the cloak around him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you lift it up over his shoulders. His arm wraps around your waist bringing you closer as tuck the ends into the upper corners of his chest plate. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile at him as he tips his helmet down, the metal where his forehead would be meets yours. The beskar is cool against your skin as he holds you close. 

You both savor this tender moment, a moment you both deserved after the hardships you had both been through.

***

After landing on Navaro Din left the Crest in order to attend to his business, leaving you and the child safely on the ship. 

You assumed that he would be meeting with Karga to see what jobs he had so they could get back to normal, but after Din was gone for several hours you began to worry. It never took him this long to meet with Karga and collect a few supplies from the market.

It was nearly dark when he finally returned carrying several parcels tied with twine. You had been rocking the child, trying to get him to sleep as Din stepped up the ramp of the Razor Crest. You placed the baby down in his cradle, pressing the button to close the lid and then turned to Din.

“You were out an awfully long time. I was starting to get worried,” You say as Din sets down the packages.

“Sorry, Y/N. Things took a little longer than I had expected.”

“Why is that?”

“Well… I had to have this made…” He reaches into the pouch at his hip and pulls out what looks to be a necklace. He holds it in his gloved hand for a moment before he drops to his knees in front of you. Holding out his other hand, he invites you to kneel before him. 

You lower yourself down to your knees, “Din, what is this?”

“Y/N,” he starts, the leather cord of the necklace dangling from this hand, “We have both been through so much. But now, now I think the Maker smiles favorably down upon us. I want you to be part of my life until the end. I want you to be part of my clan, I want you to be my wife.”

Din holds out the necklace to you, the metal of the pendant shining in his palm. 

“That’s your mudhorn signet…” You gasp, “Is it… is it beskar? Din, I can’t take the precious metal of your people…”

“It’s some that I had saved in case I needed to repair my armor, and there is still plenty left for repairs. Besides, if you agree, it will be the precious metal of your people too,” Din replies.

Tears threaten to spill over onto your cheeks, “Din, it’s beautiful.” 

“Before… before you decide, there is one thing you should know.”

Your eyes raise to meet his through the visor. 

“The clan I was raised with has very specific customs when it comes to marrying outside of the clan,” he says.

“Alright…”

“After you put this signet on you must wear a veil to hide your face until we are alone after we are wed. We cannot see each other’s faces until then. I-I got one for you, it’s in one of those packages.”

You look at Din for a moment, the customs of his people are important to him, you know that. 

“If that is what it takes to marry you, then yes, whatever I must do.”

Din seems to breathe a sigh of relief, the tension he was holding in his body melting away. He was scared you would way no.

He gently brings the necklace over your head and lowers it down around your neck.

The weight of the pendant against your chest is comforting.

Din then opens one of the packages and unfolds a simple white veil. After setting the headpiece of heavy leather on the crown of your head to hold the veil in place your hands catch his.

It is strange for him to not be able to see your eyes as the veil falls into place, obscuring his view of your face.

He lowers his forehead to meet yours, as both of you smile at each other, hidden from view.

“I love you,” he breaths.

“I love you too, Din,” you reply.

To Be Continued.....

A/N: Sorry it took so long for the update ya’ll, but I figured I would gift you with some fluff, especially after how intense the last were chapters were!

Tags:

@lokilover-39 @fleurdemiel145 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @70sgubler @pascalisthepunkest @ispilledmyink @imaginebeinlovedbyme @fastidious-and-a-mess @taman-a @yumisaru @whos-too-bi @frantheseer @retrobhaddie @aeryntheofficial @renreypoe @alexis-m-kruger @mrsparknuts 

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be added to that tag list!

[nutmegthings]

A collection of mental health and behavioral things I struggle with

these are things that I do or experience that have caused inconvenience to me, or have significantly bothered others in my life to the point of causing issue.

Volume modulation

When I am excited or upset , or often just at random I increase my volume beyond what is ‘social acceptable’ often without realizing that I have.

In some situations, such as at work or around particular people I become hyper aware of my volume and actively modulate my volume for the duration. This is both stressful and exhausting to do.

Auditory Hallucinations

When I am tired or zoned out I will occasionally hear a voice or sound close by that has no origin.

Sometimes it is a voice, usually saying only one word. Often it’s just calling my name, when this happens I usually assume someone has actually called my name, and will go ask if someone called for me... but no one has.

Twice it was an entire sentence/ few seconds of speech. Both times were significantly aggressive and some what distressing.

Sometimes I hear music that had stopped playing minuets ago, but my brain has kept going without me knowing.

Sometimes I hear music that was never playing and has no origin... just close by.

Friendship Maintenance 

This is something that I am fine with, but that seems to worry others. 

When it comes to friendships I will actively engage with them while they are in an environment that we share (workplace/ school). But will ‘Pause’ the friendship when we are not together, and will for the most part not actively engage/ maintain the friendship until I see them next, at which point I will feel the same connection with them as if no time has passed, but often they feel we have ‘drifted’ or even that we are strangers now.

I now only retain friendships with those that also are comfortable or predisposed to pausing friendships, and I often do not seek social interaction for days or weeks at a time.

Object Permanence 

I feel like this one is pretty self explanatory. Food in the fridge or back of the pantry, items in drawers and cupboards, clothes in drawers and wardrobes. I can’t see them, and so they no longer exist. 

clutter and mess becomes part of the scenery and I stop registering it as something that needs cleaning or tidying away.

I put something down. I go to pick it back up. I do not know where I put it down, and it seems to have phased out of this reality. 

Information Processing

When reading information it can sometimes be difficult to actually process the information and I may find myself reading blankly without actually processing anything I have read.

I read the same thing five times over, it remains meaningless.

Auditory Processing

Someone is talking, maybe we are having a conversation. I know they are talking, I am listening, words are happening. 

Do I process any of these words? No! they may as well be speaking another language that I do not recognize.

I say pardon?

By the time they are a quarter of the way through repeating themselves my brain catches up and fills in the rest of what they had said. I interrupt and say ‘Oh! right, yes I got it’. I am embarrassed

or they repeat it once more, I still don’t know those words. once more? they give up, I am embarrassed.

Information Retention/ Forming Memories

I have just read or heard some information. I heard and or understood every word. The whole sentence or paragraph or information load made sense. I reach the end of the information, or the speaker moves on or finishes or asks for input.

The information is gone. I have no recollection of it. I have no idea what we were talking about, or what I read, only what we were talking/ reading, and now we are not. And I know that I have none of the information even though I knew and understood it as I was receiving it. I had it, and now It is gone.

Retaining Memories

I have heard information, I have retained that information. I wrote it down, I spoke about it after receiving it so I know I retained it.

I turn around, or break concentration, or someone new starts talking. or worst of all, someone asks me directly what the information was.

It is gone. I have no idea what was said or what I read. Did that even happen? I cannot relay this information. It is gone. I had it, I was using it, it is gone.

Recalling Memories 

what units did you study at uni last semester?

I don’t know

you spent the last four months obsessively filling every spare moment you had with them and their content. how can you not know?

I don’t remember. It isn’t happening right now, so it doesn’t exist anymore. 

I sit through lectures I take notes I read textbooks I do the lab work- and I do it again- and again I run a workshop based on this subject I record a video presentation explaining the concept

I sit an exam that asks about this particular subject.

I’ve never heard of it before in my life!!

Fidgeting

when I stand in one spot I shoft from foot to foot, and side to side I bounce I pace I wiggle my toes Tap my fingers I pace Tense muscles in my legs, my arms, my face I pace I roll my tonge clack my teeth I pace I take apart pens I click buttons

If I do not let myself do this I will experience a physical manifestation of anxiety. Usually a coughing fit.

My through will tighten and itch, my eyes will water, I flush red, and I must must must cough.

I must pace, or I will cough.

Time Awareness

I sat down to do a task. It is now five hours later, I have not eaten, and I forgot to do x other task(s).

Someone asks me to do something twenty minuets from now, or I put something on that must be taken off twenty minuets from now.

Some time later I realize I don’t know how long it has been since they asked. I don’t know how much time is left before I need to do the thing. I don't know what time it was when they asked so i can’t figure out how long ago that was or how long I still have to do the thing.

I look at the clock all the time

I looked at the clock a minuet ago. I have no idea what time it is right now/

I am in a meeting. There is no clock in view. I do not know how much time has passed. The meeting finishes and it has either been five minuets or two and a half hours. I am late.

Rejection Dysphoria

Someone gives me feedback that is not purely praise. 

Someone points out something I could improve.

I perform a task that I am not completely familiar or comfortable with

someone is hesitant, dismissive, or uses a tone I percieve as displeased.

I get less than 90% mark

I am late wearing something not quite right mispornounce something need to take a few extra seconds to do or process soemthing

Oh? I am a Failure? I have Failed? Everyone knows I am a Failure? They are Displeased?

Ok! That’s Fine! Everything is Fine!

I Am A Failure!

Face Blindness

What color are my childs eyes? I don’t know

Could I describe my husbands face? He has..... glasses? and a beard?

Do people really recall faces?

Are there faces in dreams??

Because that seems really fake

My cousin, who I grew up with, who I know very well, needed me to pick him up from the airport one time I could not recognize him, I could not see him walk out. Everyone his general size and build was registering as ‘oh! that’s him’ in my mind

He had to fine me, because I couldn’t recognize him in a crowd.

Attention/ Focus

I put on a TV show. I am very interested in this TV show, I am enjoying it very much. I am invested in the lot and characters...

I also have my phone on, it has a chat app open with a conversation going. 

and... on my second monitor I have an Idle game that I am playing to keep my brain and hands busy. Occasionally I switch to a visual stim video like coin cleaning.

If I want to watch a TV show that I am invested in and enjoying, I must also have a chat and game to engage with at the same time

So you can imagine what it’s like trying to get through a boring lecture three times a week.....

[skycrystal23]

Connor x Machine!Reader pt. 3

The Video

PART ONE  PART TWO 

Summary:  The Reader has a difficult time processing what happened at the Eden Club and in attempts to make sense of things opens and watches the forbidden testing video of their self and the RK800 during pre-testing. 

Characters: Reader, Connor, Tracis 

Warnings: Death 

Words: 1700 approx. 

    You shot one of the WR400 models, the one with the short brunette hair. The android swayed for a moment before collapsing to the pavement. The other female android crawled over quickly to the collapsed WR400. Its LED was a bright red as it proceeded to sniffle and trace the deceased androids face. "Why?" It whispered looking up to you, synthetic tears clouding its eyes. "Why did you kill her?" It asked, voice trembling with every word. You stayed silent, gun still trained on the deviant. You had no idea what had just happened or what was going on. One moment you were in the garden with Amanda and the next you were outside of the Eden Club with a gun in your hands.     The blue-haired android looked back to you again. "She had nothing to do with any of this." You watched as the blue-haired Traci proceeded to bring the deceased androids arms to rest on its stomach. Humans did this as a sign of resting for their loved ones when they passed. Your LED was a solid yellow as you watched the Traci interact with its deceased twin. The android was abnormally gentle and affectionate with the way it touched the other Traci. It began to speak again, explaining what had happened with the victim inside of the club. Connor and Lieutenant Anderson stood on the sidelines watching the whole scene unfold before them.     The RK800s LED was a bright yellow, identical to yours. "....wanted to get back to the one I loved and forget about the humans." The Traci began to slowly approach you, "The smell of their sweat and their dirty words. But you've - you've taken her away from me." There were tears running down the androids synthetic skin. None of this was real. Deviants were simulating emotions, they weren't alive. Machines couldn't feel emotions the way humans did. That is why androids were perfect, that was why you are perfect. "I love her." The android said sparing a glance down at its 'lover'. "I loved her!"     Before you could react the machine came dashing at you taking the gun in your hand and drawing it up so the barrel of the pistol was pressed underneath its chin. In an instant it too was shut down permenantly. Then it was just the utter silence. The silence and the rain and you, RK800, and Lieutenant Anderson. You stood there letting raindrops slide down your synthetic skin. love. love. L0v3.

    You shook your head. What was it you were just thinking about? You looked to the RK800 watching as his LED spun a bright yellow. He looked.....contemplative. Without another thought you dropped the gun to the ground and left. You heard the Lieutenant say something along the lines of "My god..." on your way back into the club. A taxi took you back to Cyberlife. Your counterpart would arrive soon enough to recharge. Instead of heading to your pod to recharge and go into low power mode you instead took a seat on a nearby stool and sifted through your mental files. Before arriving at the club you saved an encrypted Cyberlife file: RK800-Rk800.1/compatibilitytests/cyberlife2038.video     The nature of this video file name had you intrigued. Why was it encrypted? It took you a mere ten seconds to bypass the firewall put up around it to protect it. You were apprehensive to view to the video. Amanda would be disappionted that you were snooping in Cyberlife's business, however, this could potentially help with the investigation. It would be wise for you to know more about your counterpart and yourself as well as your capabilities. The LED on the side of your head blinked a mild yellow as internally you began to review this mysterious video. Externally it looked as if you were sitting and staring off into the distance.        It started as a standard Cyberlife testing video. The company tended to record everything when it came to testing their prototypes. It seemed standard, you were sitting on a bench with a technician in front of you asking you to flex your fingers for them. Then they brought the RK800 into the room; "RK800.1 meet the RK800 Connor model." the technician said stepping to the side.     The unfamiliar android stood tall and looked down at you with a friendly smile. "Hello, my name is Connor." it smiled and stretched its hand out towards you in a kind gesture. You took its hand and shook it and then released it letting your hand fall back to your side on the bench. Another technician was fixing the plating on the back of your neck. The plating closed with a hiss and they backed away. "We will leave the two of you to become acquainted." the technician said, the one that introduced the two of you.     The two Cyberlife techs left the room leaving the two of you alone. The RK800 looked around in wonder, hands clasped behind his back as he walked around. "Your model is unfamiliar to me, I cannot access any information on you specifically." he said turning to face you. By now you had stood from the bench and looked around yourself. There was some information on the RK800, you had much to your disposal. "You are an RK800 designed to act as a detective for the Detroit Police Department. You have already been outside, your test to save that human girl from the hostage situation was a great success for Cyberlife. Besides everything I just explained you are also designed to hunt deviants and your main mission is to find the root cause of deviancy and stop it." The information flowed out of you like a waterfall.     Your model was smart, half a step up from the RK800. You had almost everything to your disposal whereas you knew he was limited to certain files in the Cyberlife database. His brown eyes fixed onto your face, he scanned you again. The only thing that came up next to you for information was your model: RK800.1 Curious. The android was very curious with you. "What is the purpose of your creation?" he asked. You blinked a few times, LED going a bright yellow. "My purpose?" You whispered to yourself. This question seemed to catch you off guard. It seemed that not many people had asked you about yourself before.     You walked over to him, he seemed very magnetic. Your gaze never strayed from his figure since he entered the room. The two of you were similar in many ways but you were in no means identical. "I was designed to protect you, I am to ensure that you do not get destroyed. I am also to ensure that you do not become affected with the deviant virus." It was a mouthful. The technicians let the two of you speak and wander the room freely for a few hours. "Is Detroit as troublesome as the news reports state?" You ask. Cyberlife had yet to allow you to leave the building let alone this room.     Connor had got to go outside into the world. He got to see things you had yet to. His LED blinked yellow for a moment, his eyelids fluttered for a second as well. "I sent you the information." he said, the corner of his mouth slightly quirking up. "I cannot receive information via the Cyberlife android link. I can only connect with another android through a physical connection." You explained.     Instead you reached forward, the palm of your hand resting against the side of his face. The synthetic skin on your hand peeled back up to your mid-forearm. The synthetic skin on his face peeled away around where your hand met his cheek. He leaned into the touch and let his eyes close. You had never connected with another android before. Was this how a connection worked? You snatched your hand away after a moment and fell back onto the ground. Your visuals were clearer and there was no nagging voice in the back of your processor.     Connor looked down at you, his gaze soft and gentle. All of your protocals had been wiped clean from your processor, any mission you had was now non-existent. What did he do to you? The room seemed much colder, you wanted to leave. You......wanted to leave? The doors to the room flew open as a flurry of technicians ran inside. You were scared. What were they going to do to you? "Its connection has been severed from the module and the garden, reset her." one of them said to the other four in the room. You scrambled to your feet and grabbed at Connor's grey overcoat. "Don't let them reset me. This is your fault, what did you do to me?" You asked, your voice was different now as well. "Let go! I don't want to be reset! Let me leave!" You screamed as the technicians grabbed a hold of you.     The video cut there with your model being dragged away kicking and screaming. You were once a deviant. How could the RK800 turn a prestigious model like yourself deviant? Later, when you were in low power mode you would have to ask Amanda. Surely she had the answers to your questions. The doors to the room slid open, you turned your head to see the RK800 enter. It crossed the room and stopped in front of you. "Lieutenant Anderson did not appreciate the destruction of those deviants at the Eden Club." it said taking a seat next to you. "My relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is not imperative to my mission." you responded.     Could it do it again? If you connected with it would you become deviant? But you've connected with the RK800 before and nothing happened. Cyberlife must have improved your model by now after the incident. "My relationship with the Lieutenant has been affected by your decision, please discuss any plans you have to affect the investigation with me beforehand." it said with a small smile. Was he always smiling or could he do that on command? It. Connor was not a 'he' it was an it. Androids were machines, you were a machine. Humans only gave androids pronouns because it made them more comfortable.

A/N: This had been sitting in my works folder forever, I thought I already posted it oops! Anyways, sorry, the next part will be up soon! Also, if anyone wants to be tagged for this fic say so in the comments and if you want to be permanently tagged for all of my Detroit fics then just say so as well! 

TAGS: @mysticmaehem @kneazlesgetitdone (Sorry your tags aren’t working for some reason) 

[becoming-bianca-blog]

i’m trying my best and that is enough

You probably don’t know me that well but I’m Bianca and I sit in the second row, 4th seat from the left. I often struggle talking about myself but I want and need to give this a shot, it’s honestly like this subject was a reaffirmation of words spoken to me in this tough time and yet, I still fail to hear and struggle to put these into action. I apologize, I’m stubborn like that. 

This is my context: I somehow ended up here in Ateneo, just a few months after my boyfriend’s suicide. Everyday, it feels as if I am a spectator in my own body, struggling to connect with people and feeling displaced wanting nothing more to wear my experiences like a badge for everyone to see but I cannot do that because everyone is struggling as well. Our SocSci class began with Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman’s study on Patterns of Thinking which was not unfamiliar to me as I came from an International Baccalaureate School and we discussed this during our Psychology class.  The very memory of learning this back in high school before my life was honestly destroyed hurt me. But again, like a silent reminder to keep going, which are what have been the impetus of my life so far, I understood myself and my negative thinking patterns in terms of The Thinking Self and The Feeling Self. Whenever I looked back at my relationship, I could only see it in terms of the end, the cathartic episode when I came to school the next day to discover that he would be gone forever. Every reminder as I moved forward taking it one day at a time, would make me hate my relationship. I’d say “I wish I never transferred schools” and “he ruined my life.” Little did I know I was thinking in terms of my Remembering Self, shamelessly exemplifying the peak-end rule when I was only judging the experience based on the tragic end as this is the self that keeps track and makes decisions. The introduction of the Thinking Self that begs us to answer “does it hurt now?” To answer this, of course it does but I remembered the advice of my therapist that I have to remember the blessings  and graces our relationship brought to my life and how I have to trust in this experience teaching me the lesson that is not usually taught to people my age: sometimes, we are powerless and cannot control the choices of others thus, we must be humble enough to accept this. Moreover, I should be grateful that I can give him the highest form of love, the kind where he doesn’t need to be physically present just like how I love God. From my experience of thinking with the Remembering Self, it was evident that I was living life especially in Ateneo with the anchoring and adjustment. I used my bad experiences in high school as a starting point, thus compromising the way I could form relationships and function as a student here in college. I told myself that I have been going through the worst experience of my life so how could college be any different. Learning about this bias, I told myself that I should not judge an experience based on the past and that I should not compromise what is new for the old. Thus, every time it became too difficult to breathe I reminded myself that to stop, take it easy, and remember the facts. Reciting it as a mantra in my head I said, “My responsibility in this world is to take care of myself first, he chose to do it, and I am here and I am in touch with my authentic self.”

The next modules namely The Feeling Self and Emotional Regulation and Self-Care were of even more importance to me. I remember in the day of class where we discussed the study of depression, I had just come from therapy discussing the possibility of taking a gap year, something that I am still so scared to do because of my pride and how it might seem like I am letting this destroy my life even more. In class and in the reading it was stressed that we cannot problem solve our negative emotions as the doing mode is not applicable for external problems and we should instead adapt the being mode which acknowledges our emotions. I could not help but remember what was stressed to me which was that I have spent my whole life alone psychologically, looking at negative emotions as something that I should not even feel because I am so blessed. Continuing on she said that it’s time to let your body take control and that I have to make my soul catch up to my body. From this, I looked at my context in terms of the ABC model of basic emotions. Using the lens of sadness, the usual antecedent could simply scoring low in a quiz making me believe I was worthless and thus numb behaviourally and tense physiologically, I always describe this as feeling like someone is choking me. Knowing this then has made me realize that even in my daily life I let my negative emotions dictate all my experiences and thus, I can do something to actively reduce the effects of this. In terms of emotional regulation, then, I always am guilty of situational selection. I have missed General Assemblies, course gimmicks, and block hangouts as I am afraid that such may trigger my anxiety and compromise my mental health. Of course, this is positive on the surface but it has limited my experiences as a freshman that others usually enjoy and find helpful. Lastly, in terms of self-care mindfulness has been introduced to me in therapy. Here, we do meditation and breathing exercises as well taking daily walks as trauma is often stored in the body. I look forward to continuing to live though the grief and trauma are present. Again, I am trying my best and know that there is so much worth in remaining true to my authentic self. 

One day at a time, I will continue living intentionally :’) 

[moggieblanket-blog]

My Autism Evaluation

I wanted to write this for a number of reasons.  First, I wanted to provide an explanation of the process I went through in order to help those who are currently seeking a diagnosis, to give them a better idea of what they might reasonably expect to experience.  Secondly, I see many posts on this site which dismiss official diagnoses with statements like, “All they do is give you a list of traits to fill out!” or, “Doctors sometimes don’t have enough experience in X disorder to know what they’re talking about!”  

I cannot speak for other diagnoses, but I can tell you now that as far as autism is concerned (and also ADHD; I will add a post about my diagnostic experience with that condition once I receive my assessment results), the number of tests which rely on quantitative data (e.g hard numbers that leave no room for interpretation), external family input, and the observations of both a primary and secondary diagnostician, both in the room at the same time, and who later compare notes, mean that a single doctor’s interpretation or idea of what autism does or doesn’t look like is largely irrelevant to the diagnosis.  

For the way in which I was assessed, if you met the numeric cutoff for the various tests, you got the diagnosis, if you didn’t, you didn’t.  There was really no room for doctor bias or opinion.  I was 21 years old at the time of testing.

My diagnostic evaluation took place in increments over a period of five days that spanned a three-month period between February and April.  The eval was administered by a graduate student who was being filmed and mentored by a doctor in psychology.  The student met with the psychologist after each of my sessions, and the footage and test results were reviewed and discussed.

My initial appointment was two hours long.  It consisted of a detailed intake evaluation which included questions about my current and childhood histories; my family and relationships; the symptoms I experienced both past and present; questions about physical illnesses, any substance abuse, trauma, and all other meaningful life events (family deaths, divorce, etc.).  I was given basic one-page screenings for symptoms of depression and anxiety (neither of which I had in sufficient quantities at that time to warrant diagnosis; those would come later).  I was also given two different multi-page forms for my parents to fill out (my mother completed mine.)  They asked detailed open-ended questions about my early childhood and development, any anomolies or missed milestones, my medical history, etc.  They also included at least 50 likert-scale questions (questions whose responses are chosen from a multi-point scale; e.g 1-5 with 1 being mildest and 5 being most severe) about traits I exhibited throughout my childhood which would be specific indicators of ASD.  My mother filled these out independently with zero input from me.

My second appointment occurred two weeks later.  I submitted all of the paperwork I and my parents had been given to complete, and was given an IQ test, specifically the WAIS-IV (Welscher Adult Intelligence Scale edition 4).  This test took two hours to complete, and consisted of spatial reasoning and pattern-recognition tasks (creating patterns from blocks, visually constructing complex illustrated shapes by selecting a specific quantity of smaller illustrated components, the trail test, etc.).  Following that were tests of short-term memory and memorization; auditory processing; abstract language abilities (e.g similarities between given words, word definitions, etc.); mental arithmetic and number manipulation; and general knowledge assessment (e.g who was X famous dead person?  What does this formula mean? etc.)

The second appointment also included a self-test to pinpoint features of psychotic or personality disorders such as Schizophrenia, Antisocial personality disorder, Bipolar disorder, etc.  This was not a basic test in which answers could be fabricated to achieve a specific result.  It had a built-in failsafe which allowed the examiner to determine if the answers were genuine or being manipulated during scoring. 

Appointment number three took another two hours, during which I was given the WIAT-II (Welscher Individual Achievement Test, edition 2).  This was a test of academic achievement which screened for academic ability, particularly as it related to the overall intelligence scores attained on the IQ test.  It was used to determine the presence of any learning disabilities, and examined everything from oral reading ability to reading and writing comprehension; spelling; basic and advanced mathematics and processing speed. 

The final appointment before sitting down to discuss test results took just under an hour.  The grad student who had been examining me performed the ADOS-2 (Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule edition 2, module 4 for fully verbal adults).  Sitting to the side to observe our interactions and score the test, was a second grad student.

This test was a semi-structured interaction between the examiner and myself, during which time the examiner presented a multitude of activities which were designed to elicit specific responses, the nature of which could indicate the presence or absence of autism.  It “pressed” for responses to social reciprocity; attempts at social overtures; nonverbal body language; idiosyncradic language or behaviours; odd or extremely narrow interests; complex body movements; theory of mind; and the understanding of complex social behaviours such as friendship, marriage, and emotional expression.

The fifth appointment was when I finally received the results of my evaluation.  The grad student who had tested me gave me an 18-page document detailing every aspect of the assessment, from the details of our conversations about my childhood and experiences, to breakdowns of the scores on all of my various tests and explanations of their meanings, and a multi-paragraph examination of my ADOS results, along with a quantitative chart denoting my scores relative to each social press.

Page 14 noted that I officially met the necessary criteria for an autism spectrum diagnosis, and that I had no learning disabilities or depression, but that my anxiety, while not severe enough to warrant a diagnosis, was high enough to be in need of monitoring.

The four pages after that contained a number of recommendations for future treatment, including individual therapy, social skills group, medication, and continued self-education.

And there you have it.  As you can see, an autism evaluation, when conducted properly, is so much more than just a doctor giving you a checklist of symptoms, or of you describing your symptoms to a psychologist and their saying, “Yep, sounds like autism!”  It is very detailed and complex, and takes a lot of time and energy, both on the part of the person being evaluated, and on that of the diagnostician.  It is not a simple thing, but, at the end of the day, you can rest assured that the testing was thorough and in earnest, not something that was cobbled together halfheartedly.

This is why I get so frustrated when I read things like, “I know myself better than a doctor does!” or, “Doctors make mistakes too!”  Of course doctors make mistakes, they are human too.  The difference is, doctors are far, far less likely to make a mistake than a layman reading information on the internet, because they’ve studied their specific field for years, and taken very specific, very difficult licensing exams to be able to conduct testing.  Doctors also have the ability to use objective, quantitative evaluations of your strengths and weaknesses to reach conclusions about you that you didn’t know about yourself.  For example, I suspected that my atrocious math skills were a result of dyscalculia.  They’re not.  They’re the result of a severely diminished processing speed (as in 13th percentile severe, meaning that 87% of the adult population has a processing speed that is faster than mine).  If I had just rattled off a list of symptoms to my psychologist and said, “I really suck at math,” and she took that at face value, I could easily have been misdiagnosed with dyscalculia and given inappropriate treatment.  I don’t need to be taught math differently, I just need to be taught it more slowly.  Please remember this post the next time you see someone say, “Professional diagnosis is no more valid than self-diagnosis because professionals just listen to you talk about symptoms and give you a checklist off the internet!”  Thank you.

TLDR: My autism eval was very long, very time and energy-intensive, used a variety of different standardized testing measures, and was generally a lot more complex than being given a questionnaire by my therapist or reeling off my symptoms and being told, “Yep, it’s autism!”

[ntandosindanesays]

Annual Postgraduate Research Indaba 2020 – Keynote Address

Theme: Accelerating online research support of postgraduate studies in the wake of Sustainable Development Goals Program director, Professor Lindiwe Zungu, Principal and Vice-Chancellor, Professor Mandlenkosi Makhanya, President of the National SRC, comrade Wadzanai Mazhetese, and your leadership collective, Members of the organising committee of this year’s Postgraduate Indaba, Fellow students, comrades and friends, members of Unisa family, Lotjhani, I should wish to begin this address by thanking the National SRC, particularly comrade Lucas Mamabolo, for approaching me to present this year’s key-note address. I do not take this invitation lightly because I understand what it means to be given audience in this fashion. I am thus extremely thankful.

The first thing that I noticed when the draft program was sent to me is that, with the notable exception of Mr Ayanda Noma, I am the only person on the list of speakers that does not have either the “Prof” or “Dr” title. Under normal circumstances, this should have me feeling somewhat overawed and intimidated, but in this instance it has me accepting that perhaps this is crucial to set the tone for today’s address. In so saying, I am humbled as a postgraduate student that I am given an opportunity to address you, because it is validation of the calls that some of us having been making for a while now – that in the quest to decolonise higher education, and transform the university we should engage in a project that de-centers longstanding hegemonic orders, these include the colonial logic that has students as perpetual juniors and academics their automatic seniors in the University setting. Among other things, I think that this is mostly the best time to be addressing you because the release of my Masters of Law exam results is still fresh, and thus the postgraduate experience is still fresh too. This is an experience that I would want to briefly talk about as I get into discussing this year’s theme of “Accelerating online research support of postgraduate studies in the wake of Sustainable Development Goals”.

I enrolled for this LLM degree in the second semester of 2017, wherein I immediately registered for the research proposal module. I passed the research proposal module in February 2018 thereafter began with the dissertation, which I ultimately submitted in February 2020. Today I stand (well I am actually sitting, thanks to Covid lockdown) before you a Master of Law. Well, at this point I expect you to be applauding because what I told you sounds like a success story. But, if you are not applauding that is also fine because I am about to briefly paint a much bleaker picture behind the proverbial Masters success. I do this with the intention to bring to the consciousness of the room that there are hurdles to cross first before we accelerate online support. Unfortunately, most of these hurdles have nothing to do with actual research work or the tasks expected from a postgraduate student, but are a product of the University’s shoddy admin systems. I repeat, and emphasize, “Shoddy admin systems”! Even more unfortunate, these hurdles are not of the fault or cause of the student but solely of the university.

More than a year ago, the university migrated from physical submissions to online submissions of M&D dissertations. By January of this year, I was ready to submit my dissertation, and the M&D department (as well as the college of graduate studies) had provided me with the magic link to submit the dissertation but the link simply could not work. I was frustrated, so much that in the end I was not able to submit through the link. I had to mount a huge fight, send various heavily-worded emails, and swear at a few people before an alternative arrangement could be made for me to finally submit the dissertation by way of an email to one of the managers at the M&D department.

The dissertation currently reads that it was submitted in January 2020, but it was actually submitted in February following the impi of Isandlwana. The implication of this administrative blooper is the final academic record now suggests that I finished my studies in 2020 academic, when I actually did so in 2019. I had thought that the war is over, after submission when I was told that I should be able to get feedback from examiners within 6 weeks, little did I know that I would have to wait close to 7 months before the results were released. Even their release did not come without controversy – Again, I had to behave like a lunatic, calling people, sending a thousand emails and throwing in a few threats here and there. All of this culminates in a very terrible experience, weighing negatively on my social and emotional wellbeing.

My story is not unique – my colleague Mutondi Maluleke (not her real name, because of obvious reasons), submitted her LLM dissertation in labour law in March of 2020. She submitted this dissertation almost 4 months after having been dumped by two supervisors owing to one going on AQIP leave, and the latter resigning from the university. As a result, she had to fend for herself, and submit the dissertation without a supervisor. Just last week, I am told that the department responsible for her Master’s degree has lost her LLM file, as a result they do not know who her Non-Examining Chair is, who her examiners are, and whether or not the actual dissertation went out to them. The only response the department could give her, was that she should re-submit. I cannot begin to imagine the trauma and anguish that Mutondi is going through right now. Mutondi and I are not alone. We have another colleague, Mr Solomon Maake (not his real name) – he submitted his LLM in Public International Law with me in February 2020. After more than 7 months of waiting for his results, he tells me just two days ago that last week that the M&D department (and college of graduate studies) communicated with him, letting him know that it is only now that they are appointing his panel of examiners. The likelihood is that, if he is lucky, he might get his results next year. I cannot imagine the sheer mental abuse that Solomon is going through right now.

Mr Vice-Chancellor, I am relaying these stories to you because I want us to have a deepened conversation about the first part of today’s theme. In the phrase “accelerating online support”, I want us to specifically focus on the word “accelerating”, not its etymological foregrounding, neither its epistemic nor ontological possibilities, but instead its metaphorical realities. Those of you who know how to drive a car would know that before it can accelerate, there are a few things that should happen. First, you have to get into the car, place the key in the ignition, switch it on, start the engine and wait for it to warm up. Once the engine is warm, you then apply all gears accordingly, so you place gear one, then gear two, right up to the 5th gear – only then can you realistically accelerate. For those of you who do not know how to drive, I invite you instead think of a bicycle. Imagine that before you can realistically accelerate on a bicycle you need to first take off, be on a constant speed, then increase the speed accordingly. But program director, let us focus on the car metaphor for now, and specifically on the 5 gears that have to be chronologically engaged before the car can accelerate. Apply this metaphor directly to Unisa. Because I am a lawyer, allow me to “Put it to you” that the Unisa vehicle, has not only failed to engage gear 1, but the car is off and the engine is cold. What I am saying that is that we have no business even talking about acceleratingonline support when the vehicle that we are supposed to accelerate is off, let alone on gear 1.

Mr Vice-Chancellor, as regards support for postgraduate students, I argue that Unisa is a 5 –gear vehicle, and these gears are as follows,

 Gear 1: Functional, effective, responsive, sensitive and student-centred M&D administration that primarily responds to all student queries via either phones or by emails. The University has to get this right, because at the rate we are going, we are not too far from Home Affairs horrors, or traffic department corruption, where citizens are expected to bribe traffic department officials before they can get proper service. It may sound alarmist and largely dramatic, but that is where Unisa is headed.

 Gear 2: Decisive, indiscriminate and consistent consequence management for all those lazy bums that put our university into disrepute by thinking that they are on holiday when they are supposed to be doing their jobs. I am a former trade unionist, so it is does not come easily to me to suggest that the University should take harsh measures against its lazy employees, but it is something that has to happen. Fire the rotten rubbish, and get people that work and appreciate the value of efficient service.

 Gear 3: Having a deepened appreciation of the digital migration before toying with things such as 4th IR. Sometimes I laugh mischievously when I hear some members of management talking about the 4th IR as if it is something that the university understands. The reality is that we are nowhere near talking about the 4th because we’ve failed to fully grapple with the 3rd. Where are the gadgets that you promised students? Why are some of your academics using laptops that they received in 2012? How do you expect the university to function online when your online systems are constantly failing.

 Gear 4: Stop paying lip service to the Grow Your Own Timber(GYOT) program. Train properly, emphasize on working mentorship programs,careerpath and a promise of jobs for performing and meritorious students. There are a few postgraduate students like me in the GYOT program, who finished their Masters degree in record time, and also published two research outputs in two different academic journals yet I am unemployed. It shows how scandalous and ineffective the GYOT program is, because it grows the timber then when it is grown, it throws it away. Mr Vice-Chancellor, this is something that you need to pay attention to.

 Gear 5: Reverse. Because a car without reverse button is useless.

Only when you have applied all these gears that you can begin to imagine accelerating. For now, the car is still off. We need to put the key in the ignition, switch it on, start the engine and apply all the gears accordingly.

I thank you once more for inviting me to deliver this Key-Note address, I bid you well wishes for this Postgraduate Indaba, may it be a success, and I do certainly hope that your discussions will reflect deeply on this stagnant vehicle. Ngithokoza kakhulu, uMabhoko sindeni, uMabhoko usinde mhla kunethuli, mhla kunganathuli kuyaliwa!

Thank you and Good Morning.

[gyongyiphotoarts]

Beyond the frame project The progress so far

It’s our 9th week and I have been shooting in the restaurant as much as I can - recruiting people is hard, specially when they say yes for the first proposal of help, and they shoot off at the end of their shift without saying a word...But let’s start at the very beginning! 

I have took a portable Prolinca flash light kit from the store, two lights, two stands, brollies, 2 radio triggers.

Day minus 1

The lights were up on both sides of the table set up, wanted to check if I want the harsh spot light effect but it was a big nono, I don’t want that dramatic lighting effect, but to put more emphasis on the gestures and facial expressions of the sitters.

Managed to synchronise the main light to the camera, but not the second light, had to adjust my camera settings too ( like switching off the live-view mode etc) , but even that didn’t help. As well as my camera battery died and forgot my spare one in my other bag..mission aborted. Managed to take a few test shots but I have accidently deleted them from my laptop and my SD card.

No progression on day 0. Yui was around to help me out, but even with the 3rd radio trigger I got from the store didn’t make everything miraculously happen. Dragged all the lights back to the uni from Central London, to check if it all of this was my fault or I was truly missing something. David have helped me figure out that all I needed was a hotshoe adaptor on my camera....brilliant.

In the meantime I felt like a fool in front of my colleagues, fiddling around and firing that one single flash for no apparent reason, but I have managed to explain to the management team my intentions and wishes,and even some colleagues have seemed to be very cooperative when I have asked them to stay a little while after work to sit for me - I have a made a little plan as well, to be confident and ‘look’ more organised.

This is a draft, the printed version looks more scribbly now...

I was also looking for additional scenes to recreate, like the ‘social media snapper’ and the ‘tap water demander’.

In the meantime I have already established my new lighting set up, with shoot through or reflective umbrellas on both lights, adjusting the power to half power. Draft lighting set up

This drawing was made with my friend who is a pro in foreboding the settings of the camera by heart. A skill I should develop as well :D 

Day 1

At last, success on the floor :) 

Test shoot of Yui to check the camera angle and the lights. Constantly changed around with one third of shutter speed and with aperture.

The left bottom one is a funny snap, just to compare for the following shoots here are the settings - f5,6 shutter speed 1/60

I have played around with the idea of using some frames in the background, but couldn’t get away with the reflective surface...have ordered some Moulin Rouge themed posters for a forthcoming shoot, let’s see how the fill up that negative space in the background! Why Moulin Rouge? Because today’s hedonistic Soho lifestyle reminds me of the infamous brothel - little bit of symbolism here and there. 

Pedro, the impatient

The photo on the left bottom is the winner. F 7.1, shutter speed 1/80, both light on half power. Was very happy to finally managed to get lights working as well as ask Pedro if he can pose for me in the last minute! 

Overall I am happy with the even lighting. Once I have all the photos together I’ll sort the exposure out in Lightroom....

Yes, the tripod is miserably wobbly. 

Possible title for the project...

Mise-en-place - French culinary phrase - ‘ethical code’ of chefs, preparing the kitchen and supplies for service, but front of house staff is using the term for preparing the floor,  like setting up the tables, filling up water fridges, organise sections and stations etc (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mise_en_place)

Mise-en-scene - I’ve read about the term from David Bate’s “Key concepts of photography”, referring to the staging a scene...’In 1930′s Paris, Brassai, for example, like many others working in the same field, was known to ‘stage’ decisive scenes and paid people as models or employed friends to act out scenarios he had seen or envisaged. Staging here is not a negative term, a criticism.In the theatre, ‘staging; cna mean realist, naturalist or anti-realist. There is no reason why staging ( mise en scene) cannot be used in thte same way for photographs. Staging refers to the act of creating a scene, it does nor imply any lack of reality, it merely acknowledges the work involved in the production of meaning in any pictorial composition.’ ( p 60-61).

Also, I had some interest in reading into another chapter from the very same book

ELEMENTS OF A PORTRAIT

The four key elements work together…are balanced (or not) in the rhetorical argument of a portrait. The meaning given to the scene, figure, pose and expression all arrives at once, simultaneously…the aesthetic and rhetorical form from which the desmans arises that the spectator reads the picture.

FACE

The expression of the face is crucial  and can exert a considerable impact on how a portrait signifies meaning. An expression can have a dramatic impact, even with the slightest movement of the eyes and mouth.

…the whole gamut of emotions about life has conventional expressions signified via the face.

the differences subtly modulated by bodily gestures, facial expression and your expectations….we know that these expression are not necessarily a fixed state of being….precisely through trying to judge and evaluate the combination of different elements that construct their appearance.

I am trying to give precise instructions to all my sitters what mood and feel and I’d like to achieve on each photos - let’s see after a long day of working how they function and what mood they’ll be in! I do my best to explain all my intention and what’s the goal of this whole photoshoot. I do remind them of past experiences we had during service or just talk about my bad experiences to enlighten them - usually it works, specially I see them getting into the role while talking and getting into the mood.

POSE

The pose of the sitters itself its a visual argument, a form of rhetoric….Is it the job of the portraitist to spot or direct these combinations, to understand ( to control?) what they signify together...’specific cultural identity’

Pose and poise connote all kinds of aspects of a perceived character (mental, physical, social etc) of the person depicted…

….the art of a good portraitist is to recognise this rhetorical aspect of the picture….just as the expression on a face is a rhetoric of mood, so the pose contributes to the signification of character, attitude and social position….posture…can be read as ‘embodying’ their psychological attitude…revealing anthropological habits.

CLOTHES

Clothing - contribute to the rhetoric of the portrait too

…they they us a good deal about in terms of how they are worn…

…we are probably all just as guilty of making short - circuited judgements about individuals based on their clothing…..clothes signify something about a person’s identity, though the context in which they wear them - the location - also infers a message about the depicted person

I haven’t specified to all my sitters what to wear, only told a few to indicate the mood of the photo.

LOCATION / SETTING

…provides a ‘context’ for the sitter….it literally locates the sitter within a social place…the perceived location is important….location scouting is crucial to finding places and spaces that will provide the right connection to the character in the picture.

All of these are key features in my shoot as well. Aiming on nailing the facial and gestural expressions just right - still not to sure whether I’d like direct overexaggerated  or either subtle but more to the point poses...Once I’ll make mock up prints I’d be able to decide which one I like better for the sake of the project.

Luckily I have given a great opportunity to shoot in the restaurant I am working at, which is more familiar to my sitters than to drag them into an empty studio!

Day 2 - Paulina

The customer who is flickering with her fingers to get attention. I’m not sure how to name this...The Tart maybe? The Shrew? still to decide. I really feel like I need to caption these photos once I exhibit them...

Little bit overexposed images, can be corrected in post production. Top left one and left middle are the most possible choices.

Had another little technical problem after taking photos of Paulina...my other colleague was waiting but I couldn’t manage to FLICK THE UNLOCK TAB on my SD card ( as well as it was full soI had to keep delete files from the card whilst shooting, very annoying thing!)  I had to postpone that shoot. He have been waiting for me patiently for an hour after he have finished his shift, I felt really bad for him...I have rearranged the twice with him in the last 2 weeks but he have managed to forget about his promise and walked home without saying a word...not going to ask him anymore for sure.  In the meantime I had another colleague of mine cancelling twice, a third one only once, but I have managed to catch him the following day...

Second planning

This thing is just a guideline, the plans never go like as I plan them...have to be constantly flexible

Day 3 - The complainer - Alessandro

Bought some cheap pasta and pesto in Sainsbury’s, so I’ve manage to make an Italian truly upset with this fakery. 

I do like this consistent view, took a few photos from more above but the table got more into the foreground than the person. Got the Moulin Rouge posters hid in the background, but the poor implementation at 12:30am didn’t work out very well...

I’m not sure why the white balance has changed! Hopefully I can correct it in postproduction! Same thing happened at the following shoot as well, but only one photo turned blue-ish which was really strange!

The social media snapper - Yui was the cutest choice :) We were trying to melt the ice cream to emphasise how much time people can spend on taking a bloody photo of their meal. She is using another phone with torch feature on as a light aid, but I feel like I have to make that light source a lot more visible that in post production...One thing I’d like to get over, is that I am thinking about the post production process already during the shoot. I guess I’d do the same if I’d be shooting analogue, although I’d have limited option of what I can alter or not...but I knew this shoot will take long time to finish up, going back and forth to the uni darkrooms would have made me really late with the project for sure!

I still have to shoot 3 scenes this week, I don’t have specific names for these for now but - The ignorant, The deliberate Evil and the Etiquette freak? let’s see later on...2 female and 1 male model. Hopefully no one cancels on me as well as I’ll be able to quickly do the set up right so I don’t have to waste my friends time!

Here is a quick, unedited contact sheet of the series so far...

I guess the lights were a little bit far off form the subject at some cases, is hard to get the precise angle all the time, but I’ll try my best with the following shoots.