#between conventional medicines

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Was suicide really seen as noble during the French Revolution? Was there any recorded tension regarding this cultural shift with more religious or less revolutionary people/groups? Thanks!

In the book La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député 1792-1795 (2015) can be found a list of all the deputies of the National Convention that died unnatural deaths between 1792 and 1799. Of the 96 names included on it, 16 were those of suicide victims, and to these must also me added a number of botched suicide attempts as well. 

Only a single one of these suicides appears to have been driven by something outside of politics, that of the deputy Charlier, who shot himself in his apartment on February 23 1797, two years after the closing of the Convention. The rest of the suicides are all very clearly politically motivated, more specifically, deputies killing themselves just as the machinery of revolutionary justice was about to catch up to them. There’s those who killed themselves while on the run and unsheltered from the hostile authorities — the girondin Rebecqui who on May 1 1794 drowned himself in Old Port of Marseille, Pétion and Buzot who on June 24 1794 shot themselves after getting forced to leave the garret where they for the last few months had been hiding out, Maure who shot himself while in hiding on 3 June 1795 after having been implicated in the revolt of 1 Prairial, Brunel, who on May 27 shot himself after failing to quell a riot in Toulon, and Tellier, who similarily shot himself on September 17 1795 due to a revolt directed against him in the commune of Chartres. Barbaroux too attempted to shoot himself on June 18 1794 but only managed to blow his jaw off. He was instead captured and guillotined. There’s those that put an end to their days once cornered by said authorities — Lidon, who on November 2 1793 shot himself after having been discovered at his hiding place by two gendarmes (he did however first fire three shots at said gendarmes, one of whom got hit in the cheek) and Le Bas who shot himself in the night between July 27 and 28 1794 as National guardsmen stormed the Hôtel de Ville where he and his allies were hiding out (according to his wife’s memoirs, already a few days before this he had told her that he would kill them both right then and there wasn’t it for the fact they had an infant son). In an interrogation held two o’clock in the morning on July 28 1794, Augustin Robespierre too revealed that the reason he a few hours earlier had thrown himself off the cordon of the Hôtel de Ville was ”to escape from the hands of the conspirators, because, having been put under a decree of accusation, he believed his death inevitable,” and there’s of course an eternal debate on whether or not his older brother too had attemped to commit suicide at Hôtel de Ville that night or if he was shot by a guard (to a lesser extent, this debate also exists regarding Couthon). There’s those who committed suicide in prison to avoid an unfriendly tribunal — Baille who hanged himself while held captive in the hostile Toulon on September 2 1793, Condorcet who took poison and was found dead in his cell in Bourg-la-Reine on 29 March 1794 (though here there exists some debate on whether it really was suicide or if he ”just” died from exhaustion) and Rühl, who stabbed himself while in house arrest on May 29 1795. On March 17 1794, Chabot tried to take his life in his cell in the Luxembourg prison by overdosing on medicine (he reported that he shouted ”vive la république” after drinking the liquor) but survived and got guillotined. Finally, there’s those who held themselves alive for the whole trial but killed themselves as soon as they heard the pronounciation of the death sentence —  the girondin Valazé who stabbed himself to death on October 30 1793 and the so called ”martyrs of prairial” Duquesnoy, Romme, Goujon, Bourbotte (in a declaration written shortly before his death he wrote: ”Virtuous Cato, no longer will it be your example alone that teaches free men how to escape the scaffold of tyranny”), Duroy and Soubrany who did the same thing on June 17 1795 (only the first three did however succeed with their suicide, the rest were executed the very same day).

To these 24 men must also be added other revolutionaries that weren’t Convention deputies, such as Jacques Roux who on February 10 1794 stabbed himself in prison, former girondin ministers Étienne Clavière who did the same thing on December 8 1793 (learning of his death, his wife killed herself as well) and Jean Marie Roland who on November 10 1793 ran a sword through his heart while in hiding, after having been informed of his wife’s execution, Gracchus Babeuf and Augustin Darthé who attempted to stab themselves on May 27 1797 after having been condemned in the so called ”conspiracy of equals,” but survived and were executed the next day, as well as two jacobins from Lyon — Hidins who killed himself in prison before the city got ”liberated,” and Gaillard who did the same thing shortly after the liberation, after having spent several weeks in jail.

With all that said, I think you could say taking your life was considered ”noble” in a way, if it allowed you to die with greater dignity than letting the imposition of revolutionary judgement take it instead did. It was at least certainly a step up compared to before 1789, when suicide (through the Criminal Ordinance of 1670) was considered a crime which could lead to confiscation of property, opprobium cast on the victim’s family and even subjection of the courpse to various outrages, like dragging it through the street. To nuance this a bit, it is however worth recalling that this was only in theory, and that in practise, most of these penalties had ceased to be carried out already in the decades before the revolution, a period during which suicide, in the Enlightenent’s spirit of questioning everything, had also started getting discussed more and more. The word ”suicide” itself entered the French dictionary in 1734. Most of the enlightenment philosophes reflected on suicide and the ethics behind it. There’s also the widely spread The Sorrows of Young Werther that was first released in 1774. Furthermore, most revolutionaries were also steeped in the culture of Antiquity, where suicide was seen as an admirable response to political defeat, perhaps most notably those of Brutus and Cato the younger, big heroes of the revolutionaries. Over the course of the revolution, we find several patriotic artists depicting famous suicides of Antiquity — such as Socrates (whose death is considered by some to have been a sort of suicide) (1791) by David, The Death of Cato of Utica (1795) by Guillaume Guillon-Lethière, and The death of Caius Gracchus (1798) by François Topino-Lebrun. According to historian Dominique Godineau, the 18th century saw ”the inscription [of suicide] in the social landscape, at least in large cities: it has become “public,” people talk about it, it is less hidden than at the beginning of the century,” and she therefore argues that the decision to decriminalize it in the reformed penal code (it didn’t state outright that suicide was now OK, but it no longer listed it as a crime) of 1791 wasn’t particulary controversial.

Furthermore, that committing suicide was more noble than facing execution was still far from an obvious, universal truth during the revolution. In his memoirs, Brissot does for example recall that, right after the insurrection of August 10, when he and other ”girondins” discussed what to do was an act of accusation to be issued against them, Buzot argued that ”the death on the scaffold was more courageous, more worthy for a patriot, and especially more useful for the cause of liberty” than committing suicide to avoid it. The feared news of their act of accusation did however arrive before the girondins had reached a definitive conclusion on what to do, leading to some fleeing (among them Buzot, who of course ironically ended up being one of the revolutionaries that ultimately chose suicide over the scaffold) and some calmly awaiting their fate. In her memoirs, Madame Roland did her too consider going to the scaffold with her head held high to be an act of virtue — ”Should I wait for when it pleases my executioners to choose the moment of my death and to augment their triumph by the insolent clamours of the mob to which I would be exposed? Certainly!” In his very last speech to the Convention, convinced that his enemies were rounding up on him, Robespierre exclaimed he would ”drink the hemlock,” a reference to the execution of Socrates. The girondin Vergniaud is also said to have carried poison on him but chosen to have go out with his friends on the scaffold, although I’ve not yet discovered what the source for this is. It can also be noted that the number of Convention deputies who let revolutionary justice have its course with them was still considerably higher than those who attempted to put an end to their days before the sentence could be carried out.

According to Patterns and prosecution of suicide in eighteenth-century Paris (1989) by Jeffrey Merrick, there was indeed tension regarding the rising amount of suicides in the decades leading up to the revolution. Merrick cites first and foremost the printer and bookseller Siméon Prosper Hardy, who in his journal Mes loisirs ou journal des evenements tels qu'ils parviennent a ma connaissance (1764-1789),  documented a total of 259 cases of Parisian suicides. Hardy saw these deaths as an unwelcome import from the English, who for their part were led to kill themselves due to ”the dismal climate, unwholesome diet, and excessive liberty.” He also blamed the suicides on "the decline of religion and morals," caused by the philosophes, who in their ”bad books” popularized English ways of thinking and undermined traditional values. He was not alone in drawing a connection between the suicides and the new ideas. The clergy in general ”denounced the philosophes for legitimizing this unforgiveable crime against God and society, which they now associated with systematic unbelief more than the traditional diabolical temptation.” In practice, many parish priests did however still quietly bury the bodies of persons who killed themselves. The future revolutionary Louis Sébastien Mercier did on the other hand blame the government and its penchant for inflated prices and burdensome taxes for the alleged epidemic of suicides in his Tableau de Paris (1782-1783).

In La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député, 1792-1795 it is also established that there weren’t that many participants of the king that killed themselves once the wind started blowing in the wrong direction, but that is not to say they didn’t exist. As example is cited the case of a man in April 1793 shot himself on the Place de la Révolution, before having written ”I die for you and your family” on a gravure representimg the head of Louis XVI. There’s also the case of Philippe Nicolas Marie de Pâris, former king’s guard and the murderer of Michel Peletier, who, similar to Lidon, blew his brains out when the authorities had him cornered a week after the murder.

Sources:

Patterns and prosecution of suicide in eighteenth-century Paris (1989) by Jeffrey Merrick 

Pratiques du suicide à Paris pendant la Révolution française () by Dominique Godineau

La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député, 1792-1795 (2015) by Michel Biard, chapter 5, ”Mourir en Romain,” le choix de suicide.

Choosing Terror (2014) by Marisa Linton, page 276-279, section titled ”Choosing how to die.”

[crissiebaby]

Codi's Trick

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, diaper filling, masturbation/diaper sex, slime transformation, humiliation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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“This is never going to work!”

“Shhhhh! Try to be optimistic.”

“We’re too old for this!”

“I keep telling you, no, we’re not! And I triple-checked. This neighborhood is Little friendly. We have nothing to worry about.”

*DING DONG*

Lifting her finger off of the doorbell, Crissie stepped back with a giddy expression on her face. Dressed up as a non-specific, non-mouse house princess, she quickly cozied up next to her partner in crime, Codi, huddling close for warmth on the chilly October night. She tugged at her short skirt which did nothing to hide her bulky diaper as a gust of wind moved between her thighs. “I really should’ve worn stockings,” she said, forcing a heavy exhale and watching the white cloud of steamy breath form mid-air.

“I told you!” said Codi, rolling her eyes and shrugging Crissie off of her. Per Crissie’s orders, she was wearing a fancy prince costume that she’d pilfered a few years prior. At least she had something on that covered all of her body on such a cold evening. She’d never been one to retain heat well. That being said, she wasn’t thrilled about the massive diaper bulge she was rocking thanks to the tight pants she had on. 

After waiting for a few seconds, Crissie and Codi could hear footsteps moving closer to the door. Readying a big smile, Crissie was excited to tell her first knock-knock joke of the night. She’d been preparing for over a month with a book she bought online, much to Codi’s dismay. Codi, on the other hand, took the time to quickly check the hem of her pants, making sure that the diaper she had on wasn’t poking out. She didn’t need to make her padded status any more pronounced.

The door swung open and a kindly-looking woman who had to be pushing 50 years old stepped out with a bowl of candy in hand. “Trick or treat!” shouted Crissie before elbowing Codi to repeat the phrase.

“T-trick or treat,” muttered Codi, avoiding eye contact with the middle-aged woman as she held her empty candy bag forward, “Sorry if we’re a bit too old for this. It’s my first time so I don’t really know the rules very well.”

Patting Codi gently on the head, the older woman giggled at her apology. “Oh, deary, there’s no need for that. Everyone deserves the chance to do some candy begging. No matter how old you get, it’s what's in here that matters, and I can tell you have a youthful spirit,” she said, pointing to Codi’s heart, “Now, as a first-timer, you should know that the cost of a piece of candy is your finest joke.”

“Ooh! I’m so ready for this!” said Crissie, clearing her throat an excessive amount, “Why is Cinderella so bad at sports?”

Suppressing a chuckle, the older woman asked simply, “Why?”

“Because her coach is a pumpkin!” yelled Crissie, leaping into the air on the punchline thanks to her child-like energy going off the charts. She held her decretive, princess-themed candy basket forward, watching with hungry eyes as the woman dropped a small handful of miniature candies into her basket. 

Having completed her trick-or-treat joke, all eyes turned to Codi, filling her heart with anxiety. With her eyes trained on the older woman’s dark brown flats, she mumbled, “W-What kind of medicine do witches use on their warts?” Internally, she cringed at the joke she had picked out. It wasn’t extremely funny but it was the only one to get a chuckle out of her when Crissie was reading that dumb joke book non-stop.

Before the older woman could ask for the answer, Codi blurted it out nervously, too on edge to play along with human joke conventions, “I don’t know, but whatever it is isn’t working.” She laughed under her breath after finishing the joke, trying to fill the void of awkward silence that followed.

“Haha! That’s hilarious! Best joke I’ve heard all night,” said the woman, cackling generously. While to many, it would be obvious that she was laughing along for Codi’s sake, Codi was still new to the way Earth people talked and took her words at face value. She curled her lips inward and produced a soft smile, happy to receive such glowing praise.

“But! But! What about the Cinderella joke?!” shouted Crissie, bouncing on the tips of her feet with a pouty expression, “That was the best one too, right?!”

The older woman giggled at Crissie’s immaturity, finding her bratty behavior adorable. “Of course, you two are both hilarious,” she said, giving Crissie the same headpat treatment that Codi was getting, “In fact, since you both are so funny, why don’t I give you an extra special treat? I have a sheet of cookies cooling on my stovetop. Would you two like one?”

“Um, is that even a question?” said Crissie, her excitement doubling at the sound of munching on her favorite dessert. It was only their first house and they were off to a fantastic start. If this kept up, this was bound to be the best trick-or-treat night ever!

Walking back into her house, the older woman called back, “Wait right there. I’ll grab you each one.”

While waiting for the cookies to arrive, Crissie looked down at her candy basket, checking to see what delectable treats she had been given. “Ooh! A pixie stick and some Twix minis. What did you get?” she asked, leaning over to sneak a peek into Codi’s bag.

“I-I don’t know,” said Codi, peering into her bag at the candies she had been given, all of which were completely foreign to her, “Are you sure it’s a good idea we keep going after this? I’m not so certain everyone will be as open as this lady is.”

“Relax, you big worry wort! House number one and we’re getting fresh-baked cookies as a bonus treat. If that’s a sign of how our night’s gonna go, everything’s going to be A-OK!” said Crissie, letting Codi’s concerns bounce off of her. 

Before Codi could raise another protest, the older woman returned, carrying two cookies individually wrapped in a paper towel. “Be careful, they're still a bit hot,” she said, handing off the first cookie to Crissie and the second one to Codi.

As Codi graciously accepted the pastry, she could’ve sworn she saw the older woman wink at her. However, the moment was too quick for her to be certain. She quickly pushed the idea out of her head and chalked it up to her being overly paranoid.

“Yay! Snickerdoodles are the best!” shouted Crissie as she instantly went to work devouring the cinnamon-covered cookie. With a mouthful of moist dough, she added, “Fankoo, owd wady!” not considering how insulting her words were.

Not wanting to be rude, Codi meekly took a tiny bite of her cookie, before stuttering, “I-It’s very yummy. Thank you.” Part of her didn’t know why “yummy” was the first descriptor that came to mind. It definitely felt like something Crissie would say instead of her. Perhaps the childishness of the night’s events was finally rubbing off on her.

Scarfing down the last bite of her cookie, Crissie licked the cinnamon sugar off of her fingertips, savoring the last of the scrumptious confection. Without saying another word, the impatient Little ran off, ready to beg for candy at the next house.

“Crissie, wait up!” yelled Codi, rushing off to join her friend. She took one look back at the middle-aged woman and said, “Have a good night!” before turning around and sprinting to catch up.

Leaning against her door frame, the older woman snickered, her eyes glowing around her irises. “You too, baby girl. You too.”

Running up to the next house, which was painted bright pink with multi-colored, pastel shutters to help its exterior pop, Crissie eagerly pressed the doorbell before turning back and waving to Codi. “Come on, slowpoke!” she shouted, snickering as she watched Codi waddle up to the porch.

“Ugh! At least tell me before you run off next time,” said Codi, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees as she recovered from the run. Being a shut-in artist, she didn’t have a whole lot of stamina to speak of, unlike Crissie who seemingly had an endless supply of energy. Part of her wished she could know what it felt like to be so loose and carefree all the time. However, that wish never made it past the concept phase thanks to watching Crissie make a fool of herself countless times. Looking back, she noticed a sign on the side of the house that read The Pretty Palace Daycare Center. “Crissie, I don’t think anyone’s here. It’s daycare so they’re probably closed for the-”

Before Codi could finish her sentence, the door opened and a young man who looked as though he was young enough to still be in college stepped out with a bowl of candy in hand. He was dressed up as a vampire, albeit a lame one that was more than likely thrown together last minute.

“Trick or treat!” said Crissie and Codi with a flourish of enthusiasm. Crissie’s head whipped toward Codi in response, beyond surprised to see her getting into the festivities. Brushing it off as nothing more than her getting over her nerves, she turned back to the young man and held her bag forward. “I love your daycare, by the way! It looks like a fun place to play!” Getting another eyeful of her surroundings and the young man at its center, she could feel a new story idea brewing in her head.

“Thanks! It’s not mine, though. I’m just the one who got left holding the candy bowl while everyone else is out trick-or-treating,” said the man, dropping his performative smile and acting more casually due to the fact that he was dealing with adults and not children, “Judging from those diaper bulges, I take it you both are Littles. Well, the fee is the same for kids and adult kids. One joke equals one piece of candy.”

Giggling at being called out for the thickness of her diaper, Crissie was prepared to launch into her next joke. However, before she could say anything, Codi blurted out gleefully, “Why do you put a baby in a diaper?”

Crissie’s head once again snapped in Codi’s direction. What had gotten into her bestie? First, she joined in saying “trick or treat” without any hesitation. Now, she was delivering a joke confidently like she’d been doing so for years. Not to mention that the joke she was telling had to be original. If there had been a diaper joke in that book, Crissie would’ve been using it non-stop.

“To tie up loose ends!” said Codi without giving the young man any chance to respond. She then burst into hysterics, doubling over in a fit of uproarious laughter. Then, without warning, she lunged forward for the candy bowl, grabbing a handful of candy before toddling off into the night.

Still in a state of shock, Crissie looked back and forth between the young man and her friend who was shrinking into the distance. “Um…she’s not usually so…whatever that was. Sorry about that,” she said as she turned around and prepared to chase after Codi. Before running off the porch, though, she reached back and took her own handful of candy from the bowl, shoving it into her basket and rushing in Codi’s direction, “Codi, wait up!”

Hanging a sharp right at the end of the block, Codi paid little mind to the words of her padded pal. Instead, she proudly rushed up to the next house and banged her fist on the door, shouting, “Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Trick or treat!” over and over again. 

Crissie reached the same doorstep just in time to see a middle-aged man open the door. He looked a tad shocked to see a pair of adults out trick or treating, letting the full-time bab know that this was probably not someone to be overly Little in front of.

Codi, on the other hand, had no restraint. “Hey, mister! What are the two reasons I wear diapers?!” she shouted before turning around, pulling down her waistband, and presenting her padded rump for the unsuspecting man. Scrunching up her face, she grunted and let out a small load into the seat of her pampers, causing it to sag dramatically. An all too familiar hiss of urine hitting her diaper soon followed as she proudly stated the answer to her joke, “Number one and number two!”

Needless to say, Crissie’s jaw hit the pavement, stupefied by the outrageous display that her dear roommate was putting on. “C-Codi? Are you…feeling alright?” asked Crissie, inching closer and patting Codi on the back.

“You betcha, Pissy Crissie!” responded Codi, causing Crissie’s face to flush intensely over being called such a dorky nickname, “Especially now that my tummy isn’t so full!” She rubbed her belly with one hand and reached down to smoosh her messy diaper with the other, giggling all the while. Then, with her candy bag in hand, she held it open for the man to drop a piece of candy inside.

Nervously, the middle-aged man placed a mini-candy bar in Codi’s bag and backed away. “Um…d-do you want some candy too?” he said to Crissie, refusing to make eye contact with either girl.

Unable to turn down such an offer even in the face of unbelievable circumstances, Crissie shrugged and reached out to accept the candy offering. “It’s uh…her first time trick-or-treating. I think she’s just a tad too excited,” she said, starkly contrasting the attitude she had only two houses prior. She quickly bent down to grab Codi by the shoulder and stand her back up.

Unfortunately, Codi wasn’t interested in standing at the moment. She was far more enamored with the idea of squishing. Allowing her legs to go limp, she fell back onto her butt and began to bounce up and down, giggling all the while.

“Here, just take as much as you want so long as you please leave,” said the man, setting the candy bowl on the pavement by his door and retreating back inside.

As concerned as Crissie was for her friend's sudden shift in personality, free candy was too good to pass up. Kneeling down next to the candy bowl, she began shoveling the bite-size pieces into her basket. 

*Crinkle!*

“Eeeep!” screamed Crissie as she felt a wandering hand grab the underside of her diaper. One quick look back revealed what she already knew.

Stationed directly behind Crissie was Codi, who was wearing a mischievous smile as she felt up Crissie’s partially used nappy. “Only soggy? And here I thought you were CrissieBABY,” she said, bringing her hand dangerously close to Crissie’s kitten. 

Unsure of what to do, Crissie knew that the display they were putting on whilst standing on some random dude's porch was probably not the best idea. On the other hand, she’d been trying to get Codi to come on to her for quite some time. She may have been too nervous to say anything, but Codi was totally her type. “C-Codi, we can’t do this here!” whisper-yelled Crissie, covering her mouth as her nursery mate continued to tease her with the idea of naughty diaper fun. She frantically looked around, both thankful and nervous that no one was around to stop them.

“Sure, we can. If I can fill my diaper right here and now, so can you,” said Codi, snickering as she circled around Crissie like a lioness in heat, keeping Crissie tucked beneath her claws all the while. That’s when a cheeky, idle thought entered her brain, one that made her horny beyond belief, “Tell you what. Why don’t I fill your diaper for you?” She moved her hand to the front of Crissie’s waistband, pulling it open slightly.

Confused, Crissie was about to ask what Codi meant by that. Did she expect her to remove her diaper in public? She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. However, just as she was about to tell Codi no, she looked back to see the most unbelievable sight.

Holding her other hand up for Crissie to see, Codi’s unnaturally pale hand turned fully translucent, taking on a lilac hue. Forming a fist with her fingers, she merged her digits into a single, slimy appendage. “You know, I can’t believe you never asked what kind of being I was. Pretty neat trick, huh?” she said, licking her lips as she plunged her moldable slime tentacle into Crissie’s diaper.

Crissie moaned passionately as Codi’s lukewarm, purple slime moved to occupy as much space in her diaper as possible. Frozen in place from the sheer inconceivability of what was happening, she watched as her diaper swelled in all directions, quickly taking on the same color as Codi’s body. All the while, her hand remained firmly pressed to her mouth and blushy cheeks, preventing her moans from getting any louder. “Y-You’re a slime girl? Why have you never-”

“Because I was too nervous to tell you. I don’t know what’s come over me but I feel so confident tonight…and silly. Hehehe!” she said, finally removing her hand now that Crissie’s diaper was filled to the brim with her ooze, “And for the record, we prefer the term goo-people. I hope it’s not a problem.”

Before Crissie could inquire further about Codi’s personhood…or goo-hood in this instance, she felt her diaper start to shift and rub up against her, as if dozens of tiny hands were mooshing her padding around all at once. “W-wha…wha awe chu…” she sputtered out, unable to form a single sentence thanks to the unreal pleasure she was experiencing.

“Whether or not my goo is attached to me, I can still control it. Makes for quite the diaper filling, doesn’t it?” teased Codi, using her reformed hand to squish the near-overflowing diaper and causing Crissie to let out yet another adorable moan. Taking Crissie by the hand, she led the shaky-legged Little away from the house and back toward the sidewalk. “Come on, the night is young and there’s still plenty of candy to collect, little sis. Or are you too horny to keep going?”

Blushing deep crimson, Crissie allowed Codi to drag her forward, too embarrassed to admit how unfathomably aroused she was. Of course, she wanted to go back to the nursery where it was certain that sexy diaper time was bound to happen. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to rob Codi of her first chance at trick-or-treating. Plus, it wasn’t like the nursery was going anywhere. With the goo in her diaper refusing to let up, she shuffled behind her new crush, ready for a fun night of yummy candy and even yummier diaper play.

Meanwhile, sitting on her porch out in front of her house with her bowl of candy in hand, the woman from the first house they visited reclined in her seat with a warm blanket over her lap, enjoying the chilly nighttime air. By now, she knew that the spell she placed on those cookies had to have fully taken effect. “Nothing like a little personality swapping to add some excitement to the night,” she said to herself, sipping from her mug of hot cocoa with a devious smile, “Happy Halloween to all and to all a spooky night.”

THE END.

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To read and see more of Crissie and Codi's adventures, check out The Crissie Canon gallery on DeviantArt! (https://www.deviantart.com/crissiebaby/gallery/80803633/the-crissie-canon)

Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 Story By CrissieBaby 💕

Patreon: patreon.com/crissiebaby DeviantArt: deviantart.com/crissiebaby Pixiv: pixiv.net/en/users/27465644

[grey-sorcery]

Title: Psychic Abilities: First Steps

Suggested Reading

Biases in Witchcraft Dualities Psychic Abilities & Mental Illness Shadow Work: First Steps Energetic Senses The Subtle Body Warding Basics

*- Closed or Semi-closed cultures/practices This article uses yellow text, which may be difficult to read outside of dark-mode.

Understanding Psychic Abilities

Psychic abilities often refer to skills or talents enabling individuals to gain information or influence beyond the scope of human senses or scientific understanding. Such capacities are frequently posited to transcend the boundaries of time, space, and matter. While they can be classified into various types – such as clairvoyance (perceiving remote or hidden information), telepathy (transmitting thoughts), and precognition (predicting future events) – the mechanisms underpinning these phenomena remain the subjects of controversy and speculation.

 Historical Perspectives

Throughout history, diverse cultures have recognized and integrated the notion of psychic phenomena into their daily lives and spiritual practices. From ancient civilizations like the Greeks and Egyptians, who consulted oracles and seers for guidance, to indigenous tribes who believed in the power of shamans and medicine people to communicate with forces beyond human perception, psychic phenomena have occupied a significant niche.

In the medieval period, psychic occurrences were often intertwined with religious or supernatural explanations. Those who claimed to possess these abilities were either revered as divinely gifted or, conversely, vilified and persecuted for heresy or witchcraft. Notably, the Renaissance and Enlightenment periods began to scrutinize such claims, emphasizing empirical evidence and rationality. This shift led to a decline in the public acceptance of psychic phenomena as mere superstitions or the result of charlatanism.

Modern Interpretations

In contemporary times, the debate surrounding psychic phenomena has bifurcated into two dominant perspectives: the skeptics and the proponents.

Skeptics, often armed with a scientific background, posit that claims of psychic abilities lack empirical evidence. They argue that such phenomena can be explained by cognitive biases, logical fallacies, or mere coincidences. For instance, the confirmation bias might lead someone to remember only the instances when a psychic prediction was accurate and dismiss those when it was not. They also highlight instances where purported psychics have been exposed as frauds, using tactics such as cold reading to feign genuine abilities.

On the contrary, proponents assert that the existence of psychic abilities is a genuine and untapped dimension of human potential. While acknowledging that fraudulence exists, they argue that there are genuine cases that defy conventional explanations. They contend that science, in its current form, may not be adequately equipped to understand or measure these phenomena. Some postulate that advancements in neuroscience, consciousness research, or quantum physics might one day elucidate the enigmatic nature of psychic abilities.

Types of Psychic Abilities 

Clairvoyance

Derived from the French words "clair" (clear) and "voir" (to see), clairvoyance essentially translates to "clear seeing." Clairvoyance refers to the claimed ability to gather information about an object, person, location, or event without any known humanly means. This phenomenon is often described as receiving visual information in the form of symbols, colors, or visions. Throughout history, many societies have revered clairvoyants as powerful figures. In some cultures, they played significant roles as advisors to rulers or as mediators between the physical and unseen worlds. Contemporary society, with its emphasis on empirical evidence, often views clairvoyance with skepticism, yet there remains a persistent cultural fascination with this ability. In many spiritual traditions, clairvoyance is seen as a heightened state of consciousness, a gift or a skill that connects the individual with higher dimensions or spiritual guides.

Telepathy

Stemming from the Greek words "tele" (distant) and "pathos" (feeling), telepathy can be understood as "distant feeling." Telepathy is the purported transmission of information between individuals without using known human sensory channels or physical interaction. It encompasses the transfer of emotions, thoughts, or even complex ideas. From ancient legends to modern science fiction, telepathic communication has captured the human imagination. While empirical research in telepathy remains inconclusive, it is a recurrent theme in popular media, underscoring the human yearning for connection. Mystic traditions may regard telepathy as a manifestation of universal interconnectedness, suggesting that at a deep level, all consciousness is one and separateness is an illusion.

Precognition

The term derives from the Latin "prae" (before) and "cognitio" (getting to know), effectively meaning "foreknowledge." Precognition involves knowledge or perception of future events before they occur, without any logical basis for such foreknowledge. This might manifest as dreams, feelings, or intuitions. Predicting the future has been a universal human pursuit, with precognitives often serving crucial societal roles as prophets, oracles, or seers. However, contemporary views on precognition are split, with skeptics pointing to cognitive biases as explanations. Many mystical traditions suggest that time, as humans perceive it, is an illusion. In such a framework, precognition might be understood as accessing timeless dimensions where past, present, and future coexist.

Claircognizance

"Clair" (clear) combined with "cognizance" (knowledge) indicates "clear knowledge." Claircognizance denotes an intuitive ability to just "know" something, without any logical basis or prior information. Individuals with this ability might suddenly know facts, insights, or understandings without knowing how they acquired them. The concept of inherent knowledge or insight is recognized in many cultures, often attributed to divine inspiration or profound intuition. However, in a world valuing empirical data, such spontaneous knowledge can be met with skepticism. Some spiritual interpretations posit that claircognizance is a connection to universal knowledge or the collective consciousness, suggesting an innate ability to tap into an omniscient source.

Clairsentience

Combining "clair" (clear) with "sentience" (feeling), clairsentience means "clear feeling." Clairsentience refers to the ability to physically feel or emotionally sense the energy or emotions of people, places, or events. This might manifest as gut feelings, sudden mood changes, or physical sensations. Empathy and heightened sensitivity have been recognized across various cultures. While some view clairsentience as a heightened form of empathy, others approach it with caution due to its inexplicable nature. Within mystical traditions, clairsentience might be seen as an enhanced sensitivity to the energy or vibrations of the universe, reflecting a deep interconnectedness of all things.

Compulsion

Derived from Latin "compellere," meaning "to drive or push together." Compulsion, in this context, refers to the purported ability to influence another's thoughts or actions without overt persuasion or physical interference. Historical records are replete with tales of individuals who held sway over masses, their compelling presence seemingly altering the will of others. Modern interpretations often approach such claims with caution, exploring psychological mechanisms behind suggestibility. Some spiritual interpretations suggest compulsion is an exertion of one's will or energy over another, tapping into the subtle dynamics of interwoven consciousness.

Common Misconceptions

While psychic abilities have been recognized and debated for centuries, modern society often conflates them with broader supernatural phenomena. To distinguish: psychic abilities are often defined as potential innate capacities of the human psyche, whereas supernatural phenomena encompass a broader range of occurrences that supposedly defy natural laws. An example of such a conflation might be equating clairvoyance solely with ghostly apparitions or haunted locales, limiting the nuanced understanding of psychic phenomena. This conflation can be attributed to myriad factors, including cultural narratives, folklore, and limited exposure to diverse interpretations of psychic occurrences.

The Hollywood Influence

The entertainment industry, particularly Hollywood, has significantly molded perceptions of psychic phenomena. From sensationalized depictions of mediums speaking to the departed in horror movies to superheroes with telepathic abilities saving the world, these portrayals often prioritize spectacle over accuracy. While they capture the imagination and offer thrilling narratives, they may distort or exaggerate the nuances of genuine psychic experiences.

Hollywood's penchant for dramatization means that psychic abilities are frequently portrayed with an added layer of spectacle, potentially leading the general populace to harbor unrealistic or skewed expectations. For instance, telepathy in movies might be showcased as characters having fullblown conversations without speaking, while actual anecdotal accounts might reference fleeting impressions or emotions.

Skepticism and Belief

Public opinion on psychic phenomena is polarized, with skeptics and believers often at odds. Skeptics caution against gullibility, pointing to instances of fraud, the influence of cognitive biases, and the lack of empirical evidence as reasons for disbelief. On the other hand, staunch believers might dismiss skeptics as close minded or overly analytical.

However, a nuanced view acknowledges that both skepticism and belief have their merits. Blind skepticism might close one off to exploring uncharted territories of human experience, while unbridled belief risks being deceived by charlatans. An informed approach considers available evidence, remains open to possibilities, and constantly seeks deeper understanding, free from dogma.

New Age Influences and How to Avoid Them

The New Age movement, originating in the late 20th century, amalgamates various spiritual and metaphysical beliefs. While it has popularized many esoteric concepts, including some pertaining to psychic phenomena, it often does so without rigorous foundation or context.

To avoid undue New Age influences when exploring psychic phenomena:

Educate Yourself: Delve into historical, cultural, and scientific perspectives on psychic abilities. Understand that the New Age interpretation is just one among many.

Question Sources: Not all literature or speakers on psychic topics are reliable. Discern between those who have done comprehensive research and those echoing popular yet shallow narratives.

Practice Discernment: Be wary of commercialized aspects of the New Age movement, such as workshops or products that promise quick psychic awakenings without any substantial groundwork.

Theosophical Influences and How to Avoid Them

The Theosophical Society, founded in the 19th century, aimed to explore, study, and disseminate knowledge about the mystical and unknown. However, its interpretations of psychic and spiritual phenomena are specific to its doctrine.

To steer clear of Theosophical biases:

Broaden Your Horizon: While Theosophy offers a rich tapestry of esoteric thought, it's essential to explore other cultural, philosophical, and spiritual perspectives on psychic phenomena.

Recognize Distinctive Theosophical Concepts: By identifying core Theosophical tenets, one can differentiate them from other psychic or spiritual beliefs.

Engage in Open Discussion: Interacting with a diverse group of thinkers, researchers, and practitioners can help in discerning Theosophical influences from more universal or varied interpretations.

The Science Behind Psychic Abilities

Psychic phenomena have long captured human curiosity, leading to extensive investigations, both informal and academic. Over the past century, numerous institutions have endeavored to study psychic abilities under controlled conditions. These include efforts by prominent universities and independent research bodies.

One well-documented approach has been the use of Zener cards — a set of five symbols (circle, cross, waves, square, star) — to test for extrasensory perception (ESP). Participants predict the sequence of cards, and results are assessed against statistical probabilities to discern any significant deviations suggesting psychic abilities.

Another area of interest has been the study of telepathy, where participants, often in isolated chambers, attempt to transmit or receive thoughts, images, or emotions. Success rates beyond chance levels could, in theory, indicate telepathic capabilities.

Controversies and Criticisms

Despite the extensive body of research, psychic phenomena remain a contentious topic in the scientific community. Some of the primary criticisms include:

Replicability Issues: A foundational principle of science is that experiments should produce consistent results when replicated. Psychic phenomena, however, often lack this consistency, leading many to question their validity.

Methodological Flaws: Critics often point out potential flaws in the design or execution of psychic experiments. These could range from insufficient controls, potential biases, or even fraud.

Statistical Interpretations: While certain psychic studies claim statistical significance, skeptics argue that these could be anomalies or the result of incorrect data interpretation.

Potential Explanations

Given the elusive nature of psychic phenomena, several hypotheses have been proposed, ranging from the purely physiological to the quantum mechanical:

Subconscious Perception: Some suggest that what's perceived as psychic ability might be heightened sensitivity to subconscious cues. This could mean picking up on subtle body language, temperature changes, or even pheromones.

Quantum Mechanics: Some posit that the nonlocality principle in quantum physics, where particles can be interconnected over vast distances, might provide a framework for understanding psychic interconnections. Though this argument tends to be provided by those who do not understand quantum theory.

Unified Field Theory: Drawing from physics, some speculate that a yet to be discovered unified field might explain the interconnectedness of consciousness. Though this argument also tends to be provided by those who do not understand quantum theory.

Potential Biases Within Scientific Approaches

While the scientific method prides itself on objectivity, biases can infiltrate any field of study, including investigations into psychic phenomena:

Confirmation Bias: Researchers, like all individuals, can unconsciously favor data that aligns with their preexisting beliefs, potentially overlooking data that contradicts their hypotheses.

Publication Bias: Studies producing positive or sensational results are often more likely to be published than those with null or negative findings. This can skew the available literature and public perception.

Cultural and Historical Biases: Western scientific paradigms, rooted in materialism, might inherently dismiss phenomena that don't fit within this framework, whereas other cultures might approach the same phenomena differently.

It's crucial to approach psychic research with an awareness of these biases, ensuring comprehensive and balanced investigations.

Comfort with Paranormal Explanations and Experiences

Across the globe, individuals vary in their comfort levels with paranormal explanations. For some, a spiritual or mystical interpretation of an event is natural and enriching. For others, such interpretations might provoke discomfort, skepticism, or even fear.

Some cultures have rich traditions of spiritual and mystical experiences, making paranormal explanations more accepted and integrated. Direct personal experiences with phenomena that defy conventional explanations can either enhance comfort with the paranormal or, paradoxically, provoke greater skepticism. Awareness and understanding of various phenomena, whether through formal education, personal research, or exposure to diverse viewpoints, can influence one's comfort levels.

Developing Psychic Abilities: A Comprehensive Approach

The initial phase in understanding psychic abilities requires identifying subtle indications that point towards their potential presence. Historically, various cultures have believed in the capability of certain individuals to perceive information hidden from the regular senses. These potential indicators might include:

Heightened Sensitivity: Some individuals report a heightened sensitivity to their surroundings, especially in terms of emotions and energies. They often feel strong empathic connections, allowing them to sense the emotions and moods of those around them, even if subtly expressed.

Frequent Déjà vu: The sensation of having experienced something previously, even when encountering it for the first time, may indicate a potential psychic inclination. While this phenomenon can be explained by various neurological processes, some interpret it as a sign of precognitive ability.

Predictive Dreams: Though dreams often arise from the subconscious mind processing daily events, some individuals note dreams that appear to foretell future events. While not always accurate, these dreams' predictive nature often stands out due to its specificity and detail.

Practice Techniques

To nurture psychic abilities, one must employ certain techniques and exercises that are designed to enhance these potential faculties. Here are some scientificallyacknowledged methods that might be beneficial:

Meditation: Meditation is a tool that aids in focusing the mind and building awareness of one's thoughts and surroundings. By practicing regular meditation, individuals can develop a heightened sense of intuition and possibly tap into deeper levels of perception.

Mindfulness: Being present in the moment can help individuals become more attuned to their surroundings and the subtle energies therein. Practicing mindfulness, like meditation, can be a foundation for honing psychic skills by fostering a keen awareness of the world around us.

Exposure to Varied Stimuli: Engaging with diverse environments, cultures, and experiences can sharpen one's intuitive skills. By exposing oneself to a broad array of stimuli, it becomes easier to identify patterns and connections that might not be immediately obvious.

Consistent Training

Consistency is vital when cultivating any skill, and the development of psychic abilities is no exception. Regular practice and a commitment to growth are imperative. Keeping a record of experiences, feelings, and intuitions can be beneficial. Over time, patterns may emerge, providing insights into the development and accuracy of psychic abilities.

Seeking feedback from trusted sources helps in gauging the accuracy of one's psychic perceptions and offers opportunities for refinement. Engaging with literature and scholarly articles on topics like parapsychology, cognitive science, and neurology can provide a rounded understanding and facilitate better practices.

Identifying Cognitive Bias

While exploring psychic abilities, it is crucial to be aware of cognitive biases. These are systematic patterns of deviation from rationality in judgment, where individuals create their own subjective reality from their perception. Examples include:

Confirmation Bias: The tendency to seek, interpret, and remember information in a way that confirms one's preconceptions. In the context of psychic abilities, this might manifest as remembering only accurate predictions while disregarding inaccuracies.

Apophenia: The human tendency to perceive meaningful patterns within random data. This could lead individuals to believe they've identified significant psychic insights when, in fact, they're drawing connections from unrelated events.

Identifying Mental Illness Symptoms that Seem Like Psychic Abilities

It is essential to differentiate between genuine psychic experiences and symptoms of mental illnesses. Some symptoms can mimic psychic phenomena, such as:

Hallucinations: These are sensory experiences in which a person can hear, see, smell, taste, or feel something that isn't there. While some might interpret these as psychic visions or messages, they are often associated with conditions like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

Delusions: Strongly held beliefs despite evidence to the contrary. For example, believing that one has a unique ability to predict events or read minds, when, in reality, evidence does not support these claims.

Hyperactivity and Racing Thoughts: Conditions such as bipolar disorder can lead to periods of hyperactivity and rapidly changing thoughts, which can be misconstrued as psychic energy or heightened intuition.

If you or someone you know shows symptoms of mental illness, you can find a list of assistance and services at the end of THIS article.

Psychic Abilities and the Mind

The intricate network of the human brain, with its myriad neural connections, governs how we think, act, and perceive the world. Central to our understanding of psychic abilities is the role of cognitive functions. These are the mental processes that allow us to carry out tasks, make decisions, and interpret the world around us. A cornerstone of cognition, memory allows us to store and retrieve information from the past. It's been posited that individuals who claim to have psychic abilities might have an enhanced or different utilization of memory, allowing them to recall events or details others might overlook.

The capacity to concentrate on specific stimuli or events in our environment is critical for any psychic exploration. An acute sense of attention might enable some individuals to pick up on subtle cues or information generally unnoticed by the average person. Processing Speed is the time it takes for an individual to interpret and respond to stimuli. A heightened processing speed might allow for faster interpretation of sensory input, which some argue could be linked to certain psychic phenomena.

Role of Subconscious

The subconscious mind, operating below the level of conscious awareness, is a vast reservoir of thoughts, memories, and feelings. Its role in psychic abilities is a topic of significant interest.

Our subconscious continuously processes information, even when we are not actively thinking about it. These processes can lead to sudden insights or "gut feelings" that seem to come out of nowhere but might, in reality, be the result of the subconscious working behind the scenes. While dreams are a regular part of the human experience, some propose that they can serve as a conduit for psychic information. The subconscious mind, active during dreaming, might present information in symbolic or direct ways that could be interpreted as precognitive or clairvoyant insights. The subconscious mind plays a pivotal role in our emotional responses. Some individuals claim to "feel" others' emotions, suggesting that their subconscious minds might be more attuned to emotional stimuli from the environment.

Perception and Intuition

At the intersection of psychic abilities and the mind lies the realm of perception and intuition. These faculties determine how we interpret the world and react to it, and they play a potentially significant role in psychic phenomena.

Enhanced Sensory Perception: Some who claim psychic abilities report a heightened sense of sight, hearing, or other senses. This enhanced perception allows them to detect stimuli that others might miss, potentially leading to insights that seem psychic in nature.

Gut Feelings: Intuition, often described as a "gut feeling," is a form of innate understanding or knowledge without the need for conscious reasoning. While everyone experiences intuition to some degree, its role in psychic abilities might be more pronounced. This intuitive sense might be more developed or refined in some individuals, leading to perceptions that are out of the ordinary.

Pattern Recognition: Humans are naturally inclined to seek patterns in the environment, a trait that has evolutionary advantages. However, some propose that those with psychic inclinations might have an enhanced ability for pattern recognition, allowing them to see connections or insights that might elude others.

Ethical Considerations in the Exploration of Psychic Abilities

The exploration of psychic abilities is not merely an introspective journey; it often intersects with the lives of others, especially when abilities are employed to provide insights or guidance. Herein lies the critical juncture of ethical use versus misuse.

Objective Approach: It is paramount for individuals claiming to possess psychic abilities to approach every situation with an objective mindset. Allowing biases or personal beliefs to interfere can lead to skewed interpretations, which might misguide those seeking counsel.

Financial Exploitation: With the commercialization of psychic readings and related services, there is a risk of financial exploitation. Ethical practitioners should be transparent about their services' costs and avoid exorbitant fees or manipulative tactics that compel repeated visits.

False Claims: Authenticity and truthfulness are fundamental. Individuals should refrain from making unsubstantiated claims about their abilities or the results they can achieve, as this can mislead and potentially harm others.

Respecting Privacy

Delving into the personal lives of others, whether intentionally or inadvertently, comes with significant ethical implications.

Unsolicited Readings: It is ethically questionable to provide unsolicited readings or insights into another person's life or situation. Even if one believes they have valuable information, it is essential to respect boundaries and only offer insights when explicitly asked.

Confidentiality: Similar to medical or therapeutic professions, individuals offering psychic services should maintain strict confidentiality. People's personal information, emotions, and situations should never be divulged without explicit consent.

Consideration of Potential Harm

The potential repercussions of psychic readings or interventions are not always immediately apparent. Therefore, a deep sense of responsibility and foresight is required.

Emotional Impact: Interactions can leave a lasting emotional imprint. Whether the information shared is positive or negative, practitioners must be sensitive to how it might affect an individual emotionally and mentally.

Dependency: There's a potential risk of individuals becoming overly reliant on psychic insights, sidelining their own judgment or decisionmaking abilities. Ethical practitioners should encourage autonomy and personal growth rather than fostering dependency.

Physical Actions: On rare occasions, insights or predictions might prompt individuals to take specific actions in their lives. It's crucial for those with psychic inclinations to understand the weight of their words and the potential physical ramifications they might have on others.

Psychic Abilities in Different Cultures

The concept of psychic abilities, while interpreted differently, exists in some form across various global cultures. Each culture's perspective provides a unique lens through which to understand and appreciate these phenomena.

Eastern Perspectives

In many Eastern traditions, psychic abilities are often interwoven with spiritual and philosophical systems.

Buddhism: Within Buddhist traditions, especially in Tibetan Buddhism*, there are references to "siddhis," which are supernormal powers attained through meditation and spiritual practice. These can range from clairvoyance to precognition. While these abilities are acknowledged, they're often considered secondary to the ultimate goal of enlightenment.

Hinduism*: Ancient Hindu scriptures, particularly the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, detail various psychic abilities termed "vibhuti." These abilities are said to emerge as one progresses along the path of yoga. However, they're treated with caution and are not the primary focus of spiritual development.

Daoism*: In Daoist traditions of China, psychic phenomena might be attributed to the harnessing of "qi" or vital energy. Daoist practitioners often engage in exercises to cultivate and balance qi, which in turn can lead to heightened abilities.

Western Perspectives

The Western world, influenced by a mix of JudeoChristian beliefs, scientific rationalism, and GrecoRoman philosophies, has its own take on psychic phenomena.

Ancient Greece: Oracles, like the famed Oracle of Delphi, played essential roles in ancient Greek society. These priestesses were believed to possess the ability to communicate with the gods and offer prophecies.

Medieval Europe: During the Middle Ages, individuals who claimed to have psychic abilities or other supernatural powers often faced persecution, associated with witchcraft and heresy.

Modern Era: With the rise of spiritualism in the 19th and 20th centuries, psychic abilities gained renewed interest. While often met with skepticism, especially from the scientific community, there remains a segment of the Western population that believes in and seeks out psychic experiences.

Indigenous Beliefs

Indigenous American Cultures: Among the Navajo*, there are individuals known as "hand tremblers" who are believed to diagnose illnesses or predict events. Similarly, the Lakota Sioux have "heyokas" or sacred clowns, who act in ways contrary to societal norms and offer unique insights.

Aboriginal Australians*: Dreamtime stories and spiritual beliefs play a central role in Aboriginal culture. The concept of "Dreaming" refers to both the ancient stories of creation and the personal dreamjourney of an individual, which can offer guidance and insights.

Shamanic Cultures of Siberia*: The term "shaman" originates from the Tungusic peoples of Siberia. Shamans in these cultures serve as intermediaries between the human and spirit worlds, accessing knowledge and healing through altered states of consciousness.

Maori of New Zealand*: The Maori have "tohunga," experts in specific areas, including those who interpret signs, dreams, and omens. They play a crucial role in guiding societal decisions and understanding the world.

African Cultures: Among the Dagara* of West Africa, there are individuals recognized as having a unique connection to the spirit world, often identified at a young age and trained to serve the community. Similarly, the Zulu* of South Africa have the "sangoma," traditional healers who diagnose and treat illnesses and communicate with ancestors.

Psychic Abilities and Personal Growth

The exploration of psychic abilities transcends mere curiosity about the supernatural. For many, it is an avenue towards profound personal growth, fostering a deeper understanding of oneself and one's place in the larger tapestry of human experience.

Self-awareness and Understanding

The journey into psychic phenomena often demands a heightened sense of selfawareness. This introspective path can lead to significant personal revelations.

Delving into psychic practices necessitates continual selfreflection. This process can unearth previously unrecognized aspects of one's character, beliefs, and motivations. Such insights offer opportunities for personal development and transformation. The exploration of psychic abilities can help individuals distinguish between their inner voice — that intuitive sense of knowing — and the cacophony of external influences. Recognizing and trusting this voice can guide decision making and foster a stronger sense of identity.

Some individuals believe that their psychic inclinations provide clarity about their life's purpose or direction. By tapping into these abilities, they feel more aligned with their personal and spiritual goals.

Emotional and Mental Health

The intertwining of psychic exploration and emotional and mental wellbeing is multifaceted and profound.

Processing Trauma: For some, psychic practices serve as a conduit for addressing and processing past traumas. By confronting these issues, individuals often find a path to healing and acceptance.

Managing Stress: Techniques often associated with psychic development, such as meditation and mindfulness, are beneficial for managing stress. These practices promote relaxation, mental clarity, and emotional balance.

Boosting Confidence: Recognizing and honing psychic abilities can bolster confidence. Individuals often feel empowered by their unique insights and the validation they receive from accurate perceptions or predictions.

Influence on Relationships

The ripple effects of psychic exploration extend into interpersonal relationships, shaping interactions and connections in various ways.

Enhanced Empathy: A heightened sensitivity to the emotions and energies of others can foster deeper empathy. This understanding can lead to more compassionate and supportive interactions with loved ones.

Navigating Conflicts: With increased intuition and perception, individuals might find it easier to navigate conflicts. Recognizing underlying issues or emotions can facilitate communication and resolution.

Building Trust: For those who share their psychic experiences with close friends or family, it can foster trust. When perceptions or insights prove accurate, it reinforces the bond between the psychic individual and those they interact with.

Psychic Abilities and Shadow Work

Shadow work refers to the process of confronting and understanding the darker, often suppressed facets of oneself. The interplay between psychic abilities and shadow work is intricate.

Unearthing Hidden Fears: Psychic experiences can bring to the surface latent fears or insecurities. These revelations, while challenging, are essential for personal growth. By addressing these fears, individuals can move towards holistic wellbeing.

Confronting Denial: Denial is a defense mechanism, shielding individuals from painful truths. However, psychic insights can pierce this veil, forcing a confrontation with realities one might prefer to ignore. This confrontation, though initially unsettling, is a step towards authenticity and selfacceptance.

Integration for Wholeness: The culmination of shadow work, when combined with psychic exploration, is the integration of all aspects of oneself. Recognizing and accepting both light and dark facets lead to a more balanced and whole self.

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This article was reviewed and edited by ChatGPT

[cyber-corp]

I finished Metal Gear Solid yesterday, and I can absolutely tell what the fuss is about with these games.

Like most kids from the late 00’s/early 10’s, I learnt about the Metal Gear series and Solid Snake through Smash Bros, and he always had this mystique quality around him. Who even is this rugged man? Why is he fighting with Luigi? What does he do?

It turns out Snake knew just about himself as much as I did when I first saw him.

Metal Gear Solid is a game about a man literally made for war struggling with his own identity, to the point where he doesn’t even have a real name, only his codename, Solid Snake. He was only brought into this world to genetically replicate the greatest solider before him, and now he has to make a decision: face his future or drown in his past. On Shadow Moses Island, he is tasked with tracking down a weapon known as Metal Gear REX, which is capable of launching nuclear weapons like someone firing a pistol. It’s in the hands of a group of terrorists, which is demanding a ransom of 1 billion dollars and the body of legendary soldier Big Boss, which just so happens to be where Snake comes in.

You see, Snake (Solid) isn’t like the other guys. He was developed as a government project to make the bestest solider the world has ever known, the Les Enfante Terribles project. He and his brother Snake (Liquid) were the aftermath of the project, and Snake (Liquid) also happens to be the puppermaster behind Shadow Moses Island.

Eventually, Solid Snake is helped out a man who worked on Metal Gear REX, who is such a wet soggy cat that it’s impossible not to enjoy his screen presence. His name is Otacon, which means Otaku Convention, which is so ridiculous that it kind of works.

The gameplay is definitely unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It pushes the boundaries between the game world and the player so far you might as well be literally him fr. There’s a scene where Snake gets a medicinal shot and you have to put the controller on your arm to feel it! It’s insanely cool details like this that I wish games today could incorporate.

Anyway, the game is very good, worthy of its praise, and apparently it only gets better from here.

I guess you could say….The Best Is Yet To Come

B)

[another-goblin]

I like the metaphor of Dr. Ratio being a doctor who tries to cure the disease called 'foolishness'. It helps understand the character better.

First, let's not forget that he's actually a medical doctor:

But he sees himself as more than that (and Screwllum agrees):

That alone can say a lot about him, and that's why I don't agree with some of the ways some people interpret him.

Would a doctor get angry at somebody for being too ill? (they probably would for not using the medicine the doctor prescribed, or not taking their condition seriously.) Would a doctor be disgusted and abandon somebody for being too ill? Would a doctor take pride in being healthier than their patient?

......

But is this metaphor warranted? Doctors save and improve lives; what does education do?

We know how dangerous ignorance can be. Our real world gives us a lot of examples of that.

Besides, Ratio himself found a cure for some terrible disease threatening humanity and resolved "the energy crisis of the century."

So I'd say that education can save and improve a lot of lives too.

......

What exactly does he 'cure'? The words he uses, like 'foolishness', sound very vague. But if we interpret it as ignorance, then his work as a teacher makes sense. He also gives lectures seemingly outside his curriculum (remember that series of faux movie posters where he looks super excited to give a lecture about astronomy), organizes conferences (his voiceline about the Express's archives), and urges us to go to university and join some debate event. That's a lot, but these are some conventional things you'd expect from an educator.

On the other hand, this looks more like life coaching or counseling:

 It's basically the idea that humanity should start thinking by themselves and not rely on geniuses who don't care about them (btw he holds a similar position about the Aeons; people shouldn't rely on them too).

This is very different from these things I listed above.

So he sort of does both, I guess?…

......

Another thing is, there is a big difference between a physician treating an individual patient, and a researcher curing a whole disease (the way Ratio himself eliminated that actual disease). And again, he seems to do both, with both his conventional educational activity and, well, 'life coaching'.

What he did on Herta station is a good example. For the researchers on the station, he showed that despite the presence of 2 (or 3) geniuses on board the station, only our TB could help them; that they could have discovered the truth by themselves if they weren't so dependent on the geniuses.

And at the same time, it was a lesson for the TB about how if we really try, if we don't rely on people just telling us what's happening and what to do, we can make sense of a complicated situation by ourselves.

......

BTW he reminds me of Dr. House (from the show 'House, M.D.' Do people remember that show? From 20 years ago? oh god…)

I don't think they have a lot in common if you dig deeper, but there are some similarities on the surface, that can help you understand Ratio a bit better.

They don't mince their words and don't care what other people think about them.

House is dismissive of people who bother him with trivial problems. (reminds me of Ratio's "Don't ask a question if there's already an answer" and "If you have a problem, are you sure you can't solve it yourself?")

House is the most rude to other doctors for not doing enough (the same way Ratio is extremely critical of other scholars - people who are priveleged to have access to knowledge but don't do anything worthwhile with it. And, in a smaller degree, to his students - people who already have access to higher education but don't take it seriously enough, in his opinion.)

But he will cure those who really need his help, whether they want it or not.

[reasonsforhope]

"One in five Americans will experience major depressive disorder in their lifetime, and many will not find relief from current therapies. But now researchers have identified an unexpected source of the problem: inflammation.

Inflammation in the body may be triggering or exacerbating depression in the brains of some patients. And clinical trial data suggests that targeting and treating the inflammation may be a way to provide more-precise care.

The findings have the potential to revolutionize medical care for depression, an often intractable illness that doesn't always respond to conventional drug treatments. While current drug treatments target certain neurotransmitters, the new research suggests that in some patients, depressive behaviors may be fueled by the inflammatory process.

It appears that inflammatory agents in the blood can break down the barrier between the body and the brain [and specifically the blood-brain barrier], causing neuroinflammation and altering key neural circuits, researchers say. In people at risk for depression, inflammation may be a trigger for the disorder.

Research suggests that only a subset of depressed patients - roughly 30 percent - have elevated inflammation, which is also associated with poor responses to antidepressants. This inflammatory subgroup may be a key to parsing out differences in underlying mechanisms for depression and personalizing treatment...

The inflamed body and the depressed brain

...A number of studies show that depressed patients tend to have increased inflammation compared with non-depressed subjects, including more inflammatory cytokines and C-reactive protein — which is produced by the liver in response to inflammation — circulating in the blood. Patients with autoimmune diseases have inordinately high rates of depression. And postmortem brain samples from people who died by suicide showed more activation of the brain’s immune cells, which release inflammatory agents.

Crucially, pro-inflammatory drugs can induce people to become depressed, which suggests a causative link. In one seminal study published in the New England Journal of Medicine, Miller and his colleagues conducted a double-blind study of 40 cancer patients undergoing treatment with interferon-alpha, an inflammatory cytokine.

Though none of the patients had depression to begin with, the inflammatory agent had a striking effect: Many became depressed, a finding that has been consistently replicated.

"The patients recognize pretty much immediately that, 'Hey, you gave me something, and now I feel this way. I don't know why I feel this way,'" Miller said.

Can treating inflammation treat depression?

If inflammation can induce or exacerbate depression and its symptoms, then reducing inflammation could provide relief.

Even if inflammation is a disease modifier rather than the cause of the problem, “you have to take care of it in order for you to be able to get your therapeutics working to restore your circuitry and what’s happening in the mind,” said Eleonore Beurel, a professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine.

Anti-inflammatory drugs, used alone or in conjunction with a standard antidepressant, may help some depressed patients. A 2019 meta-analysis encompassing almost 10,000 patients from 36 randomized clinical trials found that different anti-inflammatory agents, including NSAIDs, cytokine inhibitors and statins, could improve depressive symptoms...

“We’ve come to the tipping point,” Miller said. “And we know enough at this point to begin to target the immune system and its downstream effects on the brain to treat depression. We are there.”

How to manage your own inflammation

Experts agreed that people should not take anti-inflammatories without talking with their health-care provider. Your doctor can order a C-reactive protein blood test to measure your level of inflammation.

“There are so many patients who do not respond to antidepressants,” said Ole Köhler-Forsberg, a physician and associate professor of psychiatry at Aarhus University who has given anti-inflammatory drugs to his patients in addition to antidepressants. “So there is the issue of how can we improve the individual outcomes.” Tailoring treatment for each individual on a holistic basis may add some benefit.

More clinical tests for inflammatory markers may be a way to differentiate the effectiveness of antidepressant treatment. If confirmed, it would “be the first actual biomarker in psychiatry,” Raison said. “I mean, we’ve been looking for biomarkers for 50 years and had zero luck. And it’s ironic that it’s not a brain chemical.”

In the meantime, “you get much more mileage out of the lifestyle changes than you would out of supplements or any other over-the-counter drugs at this point,” Miller said."

-via The Washington Post (via Yahoo News), February 24, 2023

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 20, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 21, 2024

At Chicago’s United Center today, the delegates at the Democratic National Convention reaffirmed last week’s online nomination of Kamala Harris for president. The ceremonial roll-call vote featured all the usual good natured boasting from the delegates about their own state’s virtues, a process that reinforces the incredible diversity and history of both this land and its people. The managers reserved the final slots for Minnesota and California—the home states of Democratic vice presidential candidate Tim Walz and presidential candidate Kamala Harris, respectively—to put the ticket over the top. 

When the votes had been counted, Harris joined the crowd virtually from a rally she and Walz were holding at the Fiserv Forum in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Last month the Republicans held their own national convention in that venue, and for Harris to accept her nomination in the same place was an acknowledgement of how important Wisconsin will be in this election. But it also meant that Trump, who is obsessed with crowd sizes, would have to see not one but two packed sports arenas of supporters cheer wildly for her nomination. 

He also had to contend with former loyalists and supporters joining the Democratic convention. His former press secretary, Stephanie Grisham, told the Democratic convention tonight that when the cameras are off, “Trump mocks his supporters. He calls them basement dwellers.” Grisham endorsed Harris, saying: “I love my country more than my party. Kamala Harris tells the truth. She respects the American people and she has my vote.”

Trump spoke glumly to a small crowd today at the Livingston County Sheriff’s Office in Howell, Michigan. 

It was almost exactly twenty years ago, on July 27, 2004, that 43-year-old Illinois state senator Barack Obama, who was, at the time, running for a seat in the U.S. Senate, gave the keynote address to that year’s Democratic National Convention. It was the speech that began his rise to the presidency.

Like the Democrats who spoke last night, Obama talked in 2004 of his childhood and recalled how his parents had “faith in the possibilities of this nation.” And like Biden last night, Obama said that “in no other country on earth, is my story even possible.” The nation’s promise, he said, came from the human equality promised in the Declaration of Independence.

“That is the true genius of America,” Obama said, “a faith in the simple dreams of its people, the insistence on small miracles.” He called for an America “where hard work is rewarded.” “[I]t's not enough for just some of us to prosper,” he said, “[f]or alongside our famous individualism, there's another ingredient in the American saga.”

He described that ingredient as “[a]belief that we are connected as one people. If there's a child on the south side of Chicago who can't read, that matters to me, even if it's not my child. If there's a senior citizen somewhere who can't pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it's not my grandmother. If there's an Arab American family being rounded up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It's that fundamental belief—I am my brother's keeper, I am my sister's keeper—that makes this country work. It's what allows us to pursue our individual dreams, yet still come together as a single American family. ‘E pluribus unum.’ Out of many, one.”

Obama emphasized Americans’ shared values and pushed back against “those who are preparing to divide us, the spin masters and negative ad peddlers who embrace the politics of anything goes.” He reached back into history to prove that “the bedrock of this nation” is “the belief that there are better days ahead.” He called that belief “[t]he audacity of hope.”

Almost exactly twenty years after his 2004 speech, the same man, now a former president who served for eight years, spoke at tonight’s Democratic National Convention. But the past two decades have challenged his vision.

When voters put Obama into the White House in 2008, Republicans set out to make sure they couldn’t govern. Mitch McConnell (R–KY) became Senate minority leader in 2007 and, using the filibuster, stopped most Democratic measures by requiring 60 votes to move anything to a vote. 

In 2010 the Supreme Court handed down the Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission decision, declaring that corporations and other outside groups could spend as much money as they wanted on elections. Citizens United increased Republican seats in legislative bodies, and in the 2010 midterm elections, Republicans packed state legislatures with their own candidates in time to be in charge of redistricting their states after the 2010 census.  Republicans controlled the key states of Florida, Wisconsin, North Carolina, Ohio, and Michigan, as well as other, smaller states, and after the election, they used precise computer models to win previously Democratic House seats.

In the 2012 election, Democrats won the White House decisively, the Senate easily, and a majority of 1.4 million votes for House candidates. Yet Republicans came away with a thirty-three-seat majority in the House of Representatives. And then, with the 2013 Shelby County v. Holder decision, the Supreme Court gutted the Voting Rights Act, making it harder to protect Democratic voters.

As the Republicans skewed the mechanics of government to favor themselves, their candidates no longer had to worry they would lose general elections but did have to worry about losing primaries to more extreme challengers. So they swung farther and farther to the right, demonizing the Democrats until finally those who remain Republicans have given up on democracy altogether. 

Tonight’s speech echoed that of 2004 by saying that America’s “central story” is that “we are all created equal,” and describing Harris and Walz as hardworking people who would use the government to create a fair system. He sounded more concerned today than in 2004 about political divisions, and reminded the crowd: “The vast majority of us do not want to live in a country that’s bitter and divided,” he said. “We want something better. We want to be better. And the joy and the excitement that we’re seeing around this campaign tells us we’re not alone,” he said. 

And then, in his praise for his grandmother, “a little old white lady born in a tiny town called Peru, Kansas,” and his mother-in-law, Marion Robinson, a Black woman from the South Side of Chicago, he brought a new emphasis on ordinary Americans, especially women, who work hard, sacrifice for their children, and value honesty, integrity, kindness, helping others, and hard work. 

They wanted their children to “do things and go places that they would’ve never imagined for themselves.” “Whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican or somewhere in between,” he said, “we have all had people like that in our lives:... good hardworking people who weren’t famous or powerful but who managed in countless ways to leave this country just a little bit better than they found it.” 

If President Obama emphasized tonight that the nation depends on the good will of ordinary people, it was his wife, former first lady Michelle Obama, who spoke with the voice of those people and made it clear that only the American people can preserve democracy.  

In a truly extraordinary speech, perfectly delivered, Mrs. Obama described her mother as someone who lived out the idea of hope for a better future, working for children and the community. “She was glad to do the thankless, unglamorous work that for generations has strengthened the fabric of this nation,” Mrs. Obama said, “the belief that if you do unto others, if you love thy neighbor, if you work and scrape and sacrifice, it will pay off. If not for you, then maybe for your children or your grandchildren.”

Unlike her husband, though, Mrs. Obama called out Trump and his allies, who are trying to destroy that worldview. “No one has a monopoly on what it means to be an American,” she said. “No one.” “[M]ost of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward,” she said. “We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth. If we bankrupt a business…or choke in a crisis, we don't get a second, third, or fourth chance. If things don't go our way, we don't have the luxury of whining or cheating others to get further ahead…we don't get to change the rules so we always win. If we see a mountain in front of us, we don’t expect there to be an escalator waiting to take us to the top. No, we put our heads down. We get to work. In America, we do something."

And then Mrs. Obama took up the mantle of her mother, warning that demonizing others and taking away their rights, “only makes us small.” It “demeans and cheapens our politics. It only serves to further discourage good, big-hearted people from wanting to get involved at all. America, our parents taught us better than that.” 

It is “up to us to be the solution that we seek.” she said. She urged people to “be the antidote to the darkness and division.” “[W]hether you’re Democrat, Republican, Independent, or none of the above,” she said, “this is our time to stand up for what we know. In our hearts is right. Not just for our basic freedoms, but for decency and humanity, for basic respect. Dignity and empathy. For the values at the very foundation of this democracy.”

“Don’t just sit around and complain. Do something.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[the-perfect-wagnerite-again]

Millenials make especially bad parents because they have no faith in themselves as authority figures. They believe that authority can only be valid when it's constantly and routinely reified through the apparatus of consent - the concept of "innate authority" is deemed heretical and backwards. Parenthood forces this innate authority onto them, because the very nature of the relationship between parent and child precedes politics or social convention: there is no deeper, more primordial, innate form of authority. This produces a panic in the millenial who cannot see themselves as having "unearned" authority, but simultaneously cannot be rid of it. Parenthood then becomes an exercise in proving oneself worthy of their parental station, an exercise of self-validation for the sake of the millenial's "mental health" over and above the child's.

This internal panic is exacerbated by the millenial's chronological snobbery, the assumption that they are superior to their ancestors by virtue of their modernity. They have all the answers now, with the advent of sociology and child psychology and modern medicine and counseling and social organization. All those generations who came before (their own parents especially) were likely all child abusers, how could they not be without all this science and child psychology research to tell them how to be good parents? The millenial will do better than all of them.

They are simultaneously the parents with the most answers and the fewest solutions, the most self-righteous certitude in their moral superiority and the least self-confidence in their authority. The resulting dysfunction is hardly surprising to witness.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Pardon me, I just stumbled across this classy little joint, and I'm feeling a little adventurous. I'd like to order a Oneshot On The Rocks, Nico Savoy flavor.

(Gender neutral, fluff. Nico gets into one of his romantic flings with a fellow coworker he's done a few jobs with, but he realizes he likes them too much to let them go.)

I know you have other patrons here, so take your time. I'll be here all night.

Nicodeme Savoy had always been cold.

It had started right from a young age: in the cold stone halls of the convent orphanage; in the stiff wind during the first night he spent on the road with his sister Serafine; in the mud of the marshes they trudged through, only to just get away and be together.

The cold continued through the years, in the cold shoulders people would give him when he asked question—no one wanted to talk to two run away orphans and get in trouble with the cops. It was cold like all the dinners they had to have. It was cold like the glares people would give when they tried to buy something with the little money they tried to scrape together, because they assumed they'd steal anyway. By refusing to let them be honest, they ended up committing more crimes by the age of eighteen than most. It was cold like the slithering bodies of snakes that crawled over them while they slept, like the alligators' thick skin when they found a carcass or came too close to a sleeping one. Everything was cold: the nights, the days, and eventually Nico himself.

Like a reptile, he had cold blood. Empathy was relatively unknown to him. The few jobs he did were those no one would have accepted in a million years—murders, thefts, even hijackings. He did them all with no problems and no moral qualms either. That coldness stayed throughout his life and leaked into things more personal.

He had never been truly lucky in love, or at least lucky enough to keep the ones he had. His conquest list consisted mainly of one night stands, or three months at the most. When they realized it wouldn't work out, many of them turned to anger. They called him cold hearted, just as his enemies called him cold blooded.

Nico paid attention to none of it. He was fine with what he had always had. He didn't need warmth he had spent all his life in the cold he wasn't about to stop now.

But then one day there was something else. Someone else.

At first it, Y/N was just a simple new hire that the Marigold had bought into its liquor circles. It wouldn't be the first time Nico had gone and done a few jobs with a rookie, however it would be the first time that he would become friends with them. There was something about them that intrigued him. Maybe it was the way they matched his skill, or how they proved they were so much cleverer than him, strategized better, truly showed how much of an asset to the Marigold they were.

It surprised him, so he gave it a shot, and as most of his rare new friendships did, banter turned to flirting. Oftentimes, it was one-sided but this time Y/N responded to his advances. That was indeed a surprise too. He played along and so did they.

It was a strange thing between them, something that tiptoed on the line of friendship. Again, Nico had seen something like it before. He knew where this would end and he was right when one night, drunken from an evening spent at the hotel bar, the two of them went back to his room together.

He thought that would be it. They would both get on with their lives and that night would be forgotten, swept away with all the others.

It was far easier said than done. For the first time in years, Nico felt something in him. He wouldn't call it a fire, it was more a single spark somewhere deep in this chest. He thought it would be some sort of heartburn from a poor diet. He ignored it for the most part, and then while looking for medicine he stumbled across Y/N again.

Before long, the burn became bearable. They were his medicine.

Nico didn't understand it, but he knew what made it better. He asked Y/N out on the proper date. They took him up on it and it went relatively well.

So he asked them on another one, and soon they were asking him.

A week turned into a month, a month into two, two months into three. It was when a six month anniversary passed by in a blink of an eye that Nico truly knew something was off.

He couldn't fathom moving on in any way, and that was strange. He was happy where he was romantically. The job was always the same but somehow it became easier, more fun by his partner's side, and then he couldn't ignore it anymore.

There was the warmth.

The hot, delicious feeling that spread throughout him whenever a kiss landed on his cheek, or when their hands took his, or even when a joke turned into shameless flirting. He felt like he was getting wrapped in a large blanket, something unfamiliar but still addicting and comfortable.

More importantly, it was warm.

Very warm.

So warm, he thought his heart might burst.

He had rarely felt anything like it before, except towards his sister. Still, this was different. This was burning with another passion.

He knew something was off, but somehow, for once, he couldn't bear to try and put it right.

He liked this heat, this residue of mistake as some people might call it. His whole body was searing fire and he was too happy and intrigued to try and put it out.

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 12 - Destructive Testing

Breaking from the usual format for this one, and it’s going to be a bit shorter, but this is important.

At the beginning of November was Metatopia, a convention dedicated to playtesting roleplaying games. It’s an excellent place to go to break games in order to fix them stronger than ever, and in that respect Torchship did not disappoint. While its parts all worked beautifully, there were some issues with the connective tissue tying it; the game needed a stronger mechanical framework to put these pieces into.

With that in mind, we’ve started a new draft of Torchship designed to be rapidly playtested and iterated, into which all the other stuff we’ve built up can be plugged back. This new draft focuses particularly hard on making sure the game’s fundamental tablefeel is strong, that you always know what to do and where to go next.

Which is to say, fans of my games having big circles in them somewhere? There’s a big circle in this one now too. Torchship now has two distinct modes; an Action mode where you go out and gather information, and a Reflection portion where that information is managed, damage gets fixed, and plans are made. Action takes the form of ongoing narrative play, dropping into turn-based combat when needed, where Reflection takes place in a series of special scenes called Vignettes to represent timeskips, with more impactful ‘Resupply’ Vignettes acting in some ways as bridges between episodes or story arcs.

While it may sound similar to some of our previous games, this isn’t like in Flying Circus where each part of the Routine is a commitment to a certain kind of gameplay before you can go back. You’re able to switch between the two pretty readily; so long as there’s nothing bearing down on you this minute, you can go into Reflection and play out Vignettes, with the number available before you need to go back into Action depending on the in-universe time until the next important thing.

This structure imitates the back and forth you see in many episodes of Star Trek. To use Devil in the Dark as an example, the Action scenes are things like arriving at the planet to meet with the staff, or going out into the cave to track down what’s killing the miners. When they go back to talk about their findings, prep security crews, or bring in new resources, that’s Reflection. It covers your beloved TNG meeting room scenes, the cut to sickbay as we find out what happened to the redshirt, and the montages of inventing or building the tools that’ll solve this week’s problems.

As part of these rewrites, some parts of the game have been modified from previous dev diaries. We’ve simplified the way Harm works; you now have two Harm tracks, Injury and Panic, and a new accumulating penalty called Strain which builds up quickly as you make checks or use medicine to manage the other tracks or boost your abilities. Strain is easy to clear so long as you have supplies available, so it acts to pace out scenes and give less-skilled characters a reason to roll; if you know there’s a lot of a certain kind of work ahead, you might want to save your expert for the rolls which really matter!

(Radiation no longer uses a whole track, but instead consists of a small card the GM can hand you entitled “Congratulations, you’ve been irradiated!” with a list of dosage effects.)

A variety of changes large and small have emerged from these changes. Relationships act as an excellent starting point for Vignettes, while access to meetings have let us place restrictions on the number of checklists out on the field at a time, as you can always call meetings to retire checklists, propose others, and figure out what your next Big Question is about the mission. We’ve created a new XP system where you train skills directly by using them, with the pace of advancement limited on a per-episode basis to encourage you to play wide and learn new things.

Finally, we’ve come up with a neat solution to one of the longstanding problems that original sci-fi games often run into, where players are unsure what their technology can do, resulting in decision paralysis. We’ve added a very distinct CAN & CAN’T field on the info cards which lists exactly what everything does and what their limitations are so you can jump straight in without slowing the game to ask the GM where the boundaries are. 

Things are bound to change more over time as the game is refined and tested, but that’s a good thing. Good games take time, revision, and a willingness to recognize and rewrite when things aren’t working as well as they could.

[theic-manic]

Some rough notes for my Vampiric Grimoire (planning stage) feel free to use and/or contribute your own perspectives.

"Energy vampire" is a misused term since all feeding in energy feeding, just in different forms.

So I've made some brief notes on Vampire subgroups I've made for a grimoire I'm planning.

🩸Sanguine vampires

Your blood suckers, these vampires need plasma (in small amounts) to access energy.

Since there's an abundance of literature on Sanguines, I won't reinvent the wheel here, however I'll remind everyone of the importance of consent & safety.

🍆🍑Tantric Vampires

Aka Succubi & Incubi.

Similar to Sanguines, however they feed via different bodily fluids.

The main difference between Tantrics & Psi Vampires (to be covered below) is their need for erotic contact & fluids.

Again, remember consent & safety.

Unawakened tantrics may engage in hypersexual or sex-addict like behaviours.

💔 Emotional Vampires aka Emphatic Vampires

These are usually mixed up with Psi/Psychic vampires as the latter can feed via emotions, in a limited capacity.

The best metaphor for these guys is the movie Monster's Inc. & how the factory converts screams (& later, laughter) into energy.

Emotional Vampires may feed by deliberately triggering people however many discover pleasant ways to feed such has becoming comedians or musicians.

Also typically found in Political & public speaking careers.

They also make great trauma counsellors.

They can feed in a similar way to Tantrics, however they end up getting really hurt and/or manipulating others when hungry...

🔮 Psi Vampires aka Psychic vampires, Pranic Vampires, Strigoi

We're the energy omnivores in that we can feed in the same ways as other vampires however these other methods aren't as effective.

The downside of this is it can take us longer to awaken as Vampires, we may get caught up in the "fluffy bunny" (the love & light toxic positivity) community and/or end up going through hypersexual stages like our Tantric kin.

Unlike Tantric Vampires, we can feed via online interactions & be fairly satisfied.

We best feed when close to someone we can establish a link with, physical touch can also enhance this.

Unlike others, we can distance feed either astrally or via meditation though this takes discipline.

Similar to emotional Vampires we can feed from crowds, though we send out our "tendrils" to nibble from the crowd's auras.

This isn't as effective as "deep feeding".

We can benefit from learning Reiki & other energy work however we must be careful to avoid unawakened vampires who work in those fields.

Feng Shui is critical for our living spaces & we benefit from learning what our Ayurveda Doshas & Humors (Greek medicine concept) are, adjusting our physical food diets according to those.

Unfortunately we are probably why it's believed that vampires burn in sunlight since we are especially sensitive & weakened by the sun & sensitive to other weather events due to the type of energy involved.

That said, due to our relationship with energy we are especially good at Weather Manipulation, witchcraft & energy healing.

While we may be drawn to careers in healing, we're often found in toxic workplaces due to our ability to feed from & transmute negative energy.

While we CAN feed via emotions like our Emphatic kin, we can become really unwell if force fed large amounts of negative emotional energy, e.g. people in crisis.

📝 Note on naming conventions;

I'll eventually expand upon these in my personal grimoire, and once digitised I can make it available either as a Google doc or even a Tumblr post.

I plan on updating the naming conventions to be more accessible to wider audiences

ie each "type" will be given a plain English name, an "old country" name inspired by old myths & a spiritual name for those more accustomed to spirituality.

E.g.

Psychic vampire naming conventions might resemble

Psi Vampire (Plain English)

Strigoi (Old country/mythos)

Prana Vampires (Spiritual)

The fun challenge will be creating a 3-name system for Sanguines 🩸🧛‍♀️

Art by Justin O'Neal.

[deusvervewrites]

How about a crossover AU between MHA and Code Vein/Godeater?

Listen to my songs, boy

Not long after the emergence of Quirks, scientists discover a strange new species of single-celled organism, dubbed Oracle Cells, with incredible medicinal potential. They do, however, have the small issue of symbiotically joining together into giant ravenous monsters that devour conventional weaponry used on them. You know how it is.

These monsters, dubbed Aragami, quickly devastate most of the world--except for New York City, which is covered in a storm of blood red mist, but that's probably fine. Since Oracle Cells seem to pretty much just fucking eat weapons used against them, Quirks quickly become the most effective deterrent against the Aragami threat. These efforts are organized by the multinational research and military organization, Fenrir.

The effectiveness of Quirks against Aragami means that the situation is somewhat less dire than canon God Eater by the time that Bias Factor technology is properly developed and civilization starts taking back territory from the Aragami. It's even possible that the Ash Storms never happen. In fact, most of the research into supersoldier programs would be Quirk based instead of Oracle Cell based.

Without a Quirk, Midoriya cannot enlist in anti-Aragami missions. However, some Fenrir scientists approach him as a potential candidate for a special unit they're putting together using some experimental biotech enhancements. Midoriya agrees.

The first sign that he may be in over his head is when Midoriya stumbles across a girl with white skin, white hair, red eyes, and a horn. Despite calling herself Eri, she is labelled as a 'Humanoid Aragami Specimen.'

[sillystringpony]

Reflections on Rosemary:

experimenting with a psuedo-pop-art style (ben day dots yay!) for some angsty chalmskinn fanart, and a discussion about Rosemary Chalmers.

[TW: discussion of eating disorders]

I made this piece because I feel like I haven't really seen a lot of chalmskinn content that takes Shauna into account, which I guess makes sense since she isn't given all that many interactions with her dad. Anyway, I've always seen her delinquency as stemming from her mother's death: in my eyes, she's not a bad person, she's just a girl who misses her mother. I started wondering how that would play into the chalmskinn ship; I feel like she'd be fine with her dad's various flings and one-night-stands, but would recoil at any sign of her father moving on emotionally from Rosemary. I definitely want to explore how that might impact the dynamic between Seymour and Shauna a bit more in the future, especially since I've always been a huge fan of the new step-parent trying to connect with a hung up step-child trope (I really love Quibble Pants/Clear Sky because of this... if there are any bronies reading).

Her Father's Temper and Her Mother's Eyes, 2024.

no need to grip the pancake so hard girl it aint going anywhere

If I'm remembering correctly, Rosemary's character was first introduced in season 16 when the superintendent mentions his wife is very sick. There's then no real mention of her until season 23, in Bart Stops to Smell the Roosevelts, when she's pretty much confirmed dead, and Gary reflects on how he misses her (which was way more upsetting than it should be, fuck you, you funny yellow people). She's finally explicitly confirmed as dead in season 30.

Autism is as autism does, so I fixated in on these little tidbits and tried to fill in the gaps with my own headcanons. Around the time I was doing so, I was going through a really hard period with my own anorexia - I was experiencing a lot of potentially fatal symptoms and beneath the anorexic delusion, I was genuinely scared for myself. Because of that, I sort of subconsciously projected myself onto Rosemary; it's never explained how exactly she died, only that she was 'very sick'. Rather than take the more conventional route of headcanoning her as having fallen victim to a fundamentally physical illness, I decided to go the route of having her lose the struggle to anorexia nervosa.

At first, obviously, it was just a simple projection of my own issues and illness at the time. You know: I'm scared I'm going to die from this illness... I'm going to cope with these fears by exploring the lives of a person's loved ones after an eating-disorder-related death. It did kind of start to make sense to me, though: Gary Chalmers is a very traditionally masculine man, and I feel like the struggle of losing someone to a mental illness is something that would play with his character with more depth than simply losing her to physical illness. This, in part, came from seeing my own father (who admittedly reminds me of Gary) react so poorly to my own eating disorder: there is something very emotionally impactful about witnessing men who only have the capacity to understand mental illness as a non-physical, unmanifested ailment fight to understand why their loved one is fading away because of something that cannot be cured with surgery, or medicine, or physical therapy. Also, inpatient treatment isn't exactly cheap; so I feel like Chalmers' working an extra job to earn money for what was implied to be Rosemary's treatment checks out under my headcanon.

I haven't really thought much about the specific timeline of things, but a few months ago, I was writing a chalmskinn oneshot where the boys get drunk and wind up on Mount Springfield in the middle of the night (sadly unfinished): there's a moment where the two discuss the death of Rosemary that I think pretty much sums the details of my headcanon up:

“Doy,” sang Seymour: admittedly in slightly bad taste. "You know, you never said what it was. Oh- Hic… Let me guess. Was it, ya' know... The big C?” “No, no… Heart failure.” “What-? Wait, wait, wait… All those years ago, you said she was sick.” “She was sick, you… You… Stupid,” grumbled Gary. He collapsed backwards and next to Seymour with a resigned sigh. “She had anorexia.” “...Oh.” “Mmm… I- I paid for every single treatment I could, Seymour. Behavioural therapy, so, so many inpatient stays in the psychiatric ward, but no matter what she went through, she just kept getting worse. It was so scary- I, she- The woman I married was, she was disappearing right in front of me; a little more every day. I tried to get her to eat; I- I tried to stop her from throwing it up… God, it got physical, once: she was a small, small woman, but that day… She fought like a, a wild dog- Scraping, and kicking- Fuck, even biting, just to get herself free enough from me to vomit.” “Goodness. I- I had no idea.” “Pssht… Nobody did. She- she hid it so well, but behind closed doors,” Chalmers had to stop speaking for a moment. He swayed from side to side in silence; as if the rocking would stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “She was dying… Sometimes I wish it was cancer. Well- No, not cancer, just- Something physical, something that could have been cured with treatment, or a pill, or surgery, or what-fucking-ever. But nooo, it had to be a disorder that me- Stupid fucking me- That I couldn’t understand. That I couldn’t help her with… Besides paying for her treatment.”

I'm currently just over two months into recovery for anorexia, and I'm doing so much better (not to be TMI, but I definitely will not miss the gastrointestinal bleeding and incontinence, haha). Anyway, I just wanted to half-dedicate a post to talking about Rosemary; I was really socially isolated when my symptoms were at my worst, and it was headcanons and projections like this that helped me feel a bit less alone, and at the end of the day, really got me through the struggle of fighting a disorder on my lonesome. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this, or if you personally have any similar headcanons for other fictional characters.

[silvfyre-writings]

Misery and Misfortune Pt. 1 (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, hello, I bring you all some pain, and this time, I have a friend bringing the pain with me! This is a collaboration work between @hyaha-ha-ha and I, so I hope you all enjoy! CW: MCD, Gore, Body Horror

No one knows when it started.

No one knows how it came to be.

But everyone knows just how deadly it is.

I fear for those I care about.

I fear for everyone.

—Yosano Akiko

When the news of a mysterious infection making its way through Yokohama began, Yosano wasn’t even in the city to witness it. She’d been at the other end of the country, at a conference for doctors to get together and talk about the newest treatments. Although she wasn’t the most… conventional doctor, Fukuzawa had been insistent that she attend, so, she had. And while, she would much rather be tormenting her co-workers by strapping them down and removing their limbs when they were foolish enough to get themselves injured, she did have to admit that it was interesting to learn new things.

She also had a feeling it was a ploy to get her to experience things that normal doctors, with normal lives, and normal educations got to experience on a daily basis, which she did appreciate. Fukuzawa had always tried to give her a normal life—well, as normal as a life could be when it came to growing up with Fukuzawa and Ranpo who were very much not normal—after rescuing her from Mori all those years ago, and she’d been forever grateful. And while she didn’t regret how her life had turned out, there were times where she wished that her life had been different. That Mori had never plucked her from the candy store and whisked her away to war.

So with no hesitation, she packed a bag and hopped on the next train to Osaka, the goodbye’s of her co-workers echoing in her ears.

Goodbye’s that had involved warning Dazai against raiding her medicine cabinet—regardless of whether it was a joke or not—and telling Ranpo to eat an actual meal instead of his snacks for once, whilst also making sure that Kunikida didn’t stress himself out while she was gone because she knew him well enough to know that he would the moment she was gone. She’d made sure to check in with the younger members as well—because she did care despite her constant threats of bodily harm, and Atsushi and Kyouka still responded well to knowing that people actually cared about them—and had even made sure to have a quick break with Fukuzawa before her train. And it’d been nice, to see them all happy and smiling, and full of jokes and teasing quips.

It made her believe that everything would be alright.

Not that there’d been any reason to believe otherwise, because as chaotic and accident prone as her precious, put together, little family was, they were more than capable of handling any crisis that was thrown their way.

If only she’d known then, just how wrong she was.

The reporter on the news spoke of an infection of an unknown origin, bringing with it a rash, and open sores, along with a fever that could kill if it got out of hand. They also spoke of how it was unknown just how many people were infected, and that there was no reason to worry. Yosano wasn’t stupid though, and neither was any other doctor in the room currently. They all threw each other uneasy glances, and quiet murmurs broke out across the room, some groups discussing potential causes, and others already coming up with ways of treating it when they got back to their respective hospitals, even though, so far, it was restricted to just Yokohama.

And that was how the rest of the conference went; there was no panic, no fretting, only quiet discussion about what was going on in a city several hours away. Yosano herself, fell into the lull, keeping one eye on the news just like everyone else was, but focusing most of her attention on the people speaking. She wanted to go back and be able to prove that she’s actually learnt something while she’d been gone.

But the days passed, and the news became more frequent.

It was an infection they said, and medicine in this day and age, accompanied by the few skill users with healing abilities, meant that it wouldn’t be long before it was dealt with and forgotten.

It was an infection they said; no one had died, and it hadn’t been discovered outside of Yokohama yet, so it clearly wasn’t airborne, nor was it in the water.

It’s just an infection, Yosano told herself, watching as images of patients in hospitals flicked across the screen, dread filling her stomach that she couldn’t quite understand the origin of.

It’s just an infection, she continued to say, as the phone in her hand lit up with the President’s number.

Yosano wasn’t the type to believe in God; had never had a reason to with the life that she’d lived, with all that pain and suffering that she’d worked hard to put behind her. After all, what kind of God would just sit by and allow an eleven-year-old to suffer as much as she had? What had she done that was no bad to warrant that kind of torment? Not only that, but what God would endorse such a war to happen in the first place where she, a child, had needed to be on the battlefield?

After all these years, she still didn’t have an answer.

And when she arrived back at the Agency, and stepped into the infirmary, what little belief she somehow still had, vanished.

Yosano didn’t know what to think at first, when her eyes fell upon Dazai, his bandages unravelled and replaced with plastic covers that showed the gaping wounds being protected by them, the wires that were connected to him, monitoring his vitals, and the needle in his hand providing nutrition. Her heart skipped a beat, as she forced her eyes away from her friends almost… decaying form, to see Dazai staring at her, expression one that could only be attributed to pain, although she couldn’t be sure he was actually looking at her, eyes glazed with fever and staring right through her almost.

It was the weakest that she’d ever seen him, and she’d seen him on death’s door multiple times.

She stepped closer. “Dazai…”

Dazai’s eyes focused just long enough for him to notice her, and a smile grew on his face. “Yosano-sensei, how kind of you to rush back for little old me.”

“The President called me.” Yosano said, striding over to the bed and taking one of Dazai’s arms into her own to study it. This close, she could see the wound more clearly, see the bone underneath the flesh that had seemingly rotted away, blood leaking from the hole that was left behind. The sheer size of the wound concerned her; spreading up the length of the limb and disappearing underneath the gown that her colleague was wearing. Further up, she could see cracks in the skin on the right side of his face, not quite bleeding, but threatening to.

She’d never seen anything like it.

But she knew what it was.

Despite wishing wholeheartedly that it was anything but.

Yosano looked towards where Kunikida was sitting, looking more stressed than he ever had before. “How did this happen?”

“We aren’t sure.” Kunikida sighed, slumping forward to rest his head in his hands. He took a deep breath. “We pulled the idiot from the river about a week ago, and of course, he got sick from it. But then… he got worse. And now he’s like this.”

“Ah I’ll be fine. Now that you’re here, I’ll be fine.” Dazai interjected, tugging his hand free to drop back against the mattress. Neither Yosano nor Kunikida missed the way it dropped like deadweight, as there was no muscle to support the limb, nor the pained grimace that followed.

Yosano smiled, hoping that it conveyed the confidence that she did not feel in that moment. Her mind drifted away, back towards that of the news report about a mysterious infection spreading around Yokohama.

An infection that currently, had no cure.

Not that she would let that stop her.

She was Akiko Yosano, the Angel of Death. She wasn’t going to let some unknown infection get the best of her, not in her life.

“Well, Dazai.” Yosano said, reaching out a hand to smooth Dazai’s sweat-soaked hair, ignoring the heat that she felt, even through her glove. Dazai’s eyes focused on her once again. “Let’s see if we can’t get you fixed up.”

Yet, for all her efforts, Dazai continued to get sicker, and sicker. No matter what medicine she pumped him with, no matter how many times she and Kunikida cleaned the wounds, he just continued to waste away right in front of them. And because they weren’t sure how exactly Dazai had contracted the infection, Yosano made the decision to bar everyone but herself and Kunikida from the infirmary whilst they tried to figure it out; a decision that wasn’t well received. Atsushi had tried to force his way past her, desperate to see his mentor, but he’d calmed when Kyouka—bless her—had slid up to him and explained that Yosano wasn’t doing this to be cruel, she just didn’t want them to get sick as well.

Yosano had appreciated it, and promised Atsushi that the moment that Dazai was allowed visitors again, she’d let him know.

The first thing to do, other than manage Dazai’s symptoms, was discover how he’d even contracted the infection in the first place, which meant running through every aspect of Dazai’s life leading up until his collapse; a task made nearly impossible, not from Dazai’s unwillingness to talk, but because he was rarely lucid enough for them to even ask as the infection continued to ravage him. It’d gotten to the point where Yosano started to grow concerned that Dazai would die, so she’d made the decision to amputate his arm in a desperate attempt to stop the infection from spreading.

At first, Kunikida had argued, but he’d quickly given in when Yosano had argued back that at this point, they had nothing to lose.

It was one of the few times where she cursed being unable to use her ability on Dazai.

But after the surgery, Yosano felt nothing but relief when Dazai opened his eyes, and almost immediately cracked a joke about his missing arm, eyes clearer than they had been in a long time. It was almost as if Dazai hadn’t been sick in the first place, and once he’d rested from the surgery, she grilled him on what he’d been doing, what he’d been eating, and who he’d interacted with, but his answers had provided nothing.

All he’d been doing was walking around Yokohama, trying to find the ideal spot to die, nothing out of the ordinary for her eccentric friend.

But since it didn’t seem like Dazai would infect everyone else, Yosano didn’t see an issue with allowing the others to visit Dazai, although she did insist that they all wear masks and gloves just in case.

The last thing she wanted was to deal with an outbreak when she didn’t have a set treatment in mind.

“He’s going to die; you know that right?” Yosano was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of Ranpo throwing himself up on top of her desk, twirling a lollipop in his hand. The words were harsh, and didn’t match the indifferent expression on Ranpo’s face, but Yosano knew better, knew just how much her oldest friend cared about Dazai.

Yosano sighed and glanced over her shoulder where Dazai was listening to Atsushi talk about his day, a bowl of half-eaten chazuke in his hand. “I know.”

Ranpo hummed. “Are you going to tell them?”

“They already know.” At least, she thought they did. She hoped they did, because if they didn’t… well, she didn’t quite have an answer for that. Yosano let out another sigh, and turned to face Ranpo. “Have you been asked by the police for help.”

“Not yet.” Ranpo said. “It’s only a matter of time though, since people are starting to die now, so I’m sure they’ll come begging for my assistance like they always do.”

“Do you know what’s causing it?”

“Causing it? Not yet. How it spreads? Yes.” Ranpo shoved the lollipop into his mouth, his attention focused on Dazai and the others surrounding him. “It’s through blood-to-blood contact, before you ask.”

Yosano frowned, filing the information away for later to deal with. She’d encountered infections of the blood before, but most of them had some other requirement involved for them to actually infect people; seldom was it as simple as blood-to-blood. But it would make sense for it to be so simply, really. It was common for the deadliest of diseases to be transmitted easily, that was what made them so deadly in the first place. And it didn’t make them easy to cure either.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Ranpo went on to say. “Dazai will die, but you did what you could, and he knows that. It’s why he’s still smiling, so people can remember him for that instead of rotting away in a bed.”

She didn’t think she’d done nearly enough to try and help, but it was nice of Ranpo to try and offer some comfort to her. She gave him a soft look. “Are you going to be okay? When he dies, I mean?”

Ranpo refused to look at her, his body tense. “It’s not like I have a choice. He’s dying whether I want him to or not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll say my goodbyes later once everyone’s gone.” Ranpo hopped of her desk and began to leave, stopping right beside her just long enough to speak quietly. “Just find a cure, okay?”

I will. Yosano thought, going back to her research.

She had to.

But just as Ranpo had predicted, Dazai died.

It was a painful death, it had to be with the way Dazai’s flesh peeled from his skin, leaving nothing but bone. It took days for him to finally pass, the fever finally becoming too much for his body to handle and causing total organ failure. Yosano had done everything she could to help, had tried everything she’d learnt over the years, but none of it had been enough, and in the end, all she could do was sit by Dazai’s bedside with Kunikida beside her, and hold her friends’ hand as he lost the fight to live.

“Don’t mourn me… too much, Yosano-sensei… we all knew I would be… the first to die…”

That was what Dazai had said in his final moment of clarity, and honestly, she wanted to smack him for it. Of course she was going to mourn Dazai, he was her friend, and he’d left a bigger impact on the Agency than he thought he had. He’d brought jokes, and joy, and that weird friendship of his that only Dazai could do, and she, along with everyone else, were going to miss him. She hadn’t cried when he died, too focused on keeping herself composed as she shared the news with those that hadn’t been in the room, and afterwards, there’d been so many tears from everyone else that it didn’t feel right for her to break down too.

But if she shed a few tears over a shared bottle of sake between her and Ranpo, who was to know but them?

After Dazai’s death, Yosano thought that the end of it.

They held a funeral, said their goodbyes, and did their best to push onwards. For a while, work was slow, on account of everyone struggling to cope with the subdued atmosphere, which eventually led to Fukuzawa making the decision to close the Agency for the week, just to give them the time they needed to deal and start healing. A decision that everyone was quick to follow.

Once that week was up, and everyone was back at work, things almost seemed to go back to normal. Well, not normal per se—because there was nothing normal about watching a co-worker and friend slowly waste away—but as normal as it could be. Although, for Yosano, life continued to grow more chaotic. The hospitals, having heard of her encounter with the infection, summoned her to see if she could try to help with the influx of victims, so most of her time was spent there, trying to help, but only watching more people die.

There was still no cure, still no idea on the origin of the infection, only a steadily growing death toll and fear amongst the general population.

And then she walked into the Agency, where she watched Kunikida collapse in front of her, blood spilling from the cracks in his face, and her heart stopped. Not again.

Like with Dazai, Yosano took Kunikida to the infirmary and refused entry to anyone that wasn’t her. She did what she could to get Kunikida’s vitals up, hoping that he would regain consciousness and be able to tell her how he got infected—which she already knew thanks to Ranpo deducing that it was contact with blood, but she needed to know when. Knowing when Kunikida had gotten infected would give them an idea as to how long it took the infection to present itself, and that kind of knowledge was vital in an epidemic.

But Kunikida never woke up.

And Yosano was forced to watch yet another friend die.

It was cruel, it was awful, and Yosano cursed every God that she knew of for allowing the most important people in her life to die from some stupid, incurable infection. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but right now, she couldn’t. Right now, she had to be strong, had to provide a brave face to show the others that she knew what she was doing, that there was still hope to be had, even though she continued to lose it as the days passed.

Like Dazai, Kunikida’s flesh began to rot away, and honestly, it was a testament to just how much the human body could survive, as Kunikida’s arms were nothing but bone, yet he was somehow still fighting. And even though Kunikida was comatose, she kept him dosed on painkillers, just in case there was a part of him that was hurting; otherwise, she used the time to study the symptoms of the infection, to note how fast it spread and the order it happened in, comparing Kunikida’s suffering to Dazai’s and finding them almost the same.

There were a few variances, but that was expected with infections; everyone was different after all. Everyone’s body reacted to things differently; it was why Kunikida had started bleeding from his face first whilst Dazai rotted.

Not that it made it any less painful to know that.

This time, it was Fukuzawa that sat by her side as Kunikida slowly died in front of her. She appreciated the company, spent most of the time leaning against his shoulder as they sat in silence together. It was obvious from the tension in his face, that he was worried about the way that things were going, and that he felt a little helpless at not being able to do much more than support her. It was probably how the rest of the Agency felt, being trapped outside the infirmary as they were, and she felt guilty that she couldn’t risk allowing them to help her. She just couldn’t risk anyone else getting infected. It was already dangerous enough keeping infected people in the infirmary here, instead of taking them to the hospital like the government was asking of people.

“I’m sorry I can’t save him.” Yosano found herself saying, her voice quiet in the despair of the room. She ducked her head and stared at her hands. Maybe Shunzen was right. Maybe she was an Angel of Death after all, hands bloodied by the bodies of people she tried to save and failed.

Maybe she should just—

“You did what you could.” Fukuzawa interrupted before her thoughts could send her spiralling. He gave her a comforting pat. “Kunikida and Dazai know that.”

“But does everyone else?” Yosano retorted. “I’ve kept them from being here, to keep them safe, but for all I know, they hate me for not doing more!”

“They don’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Fukuzawa tightened his grip on her, voice firm. “They don’t hate you.”

“But—”

“They don’t.” Fukuzawa insisted. “They merely wish that they could do more to help. Situations like this can leave many feeling helpless and we, are no different. You need not apologise for the decisions you make to keep us safe.”

Yosano bit her lip to keep the apology on the tip of her tongue from escaping, and just gave a single nod. There wasn’t anything more she could say on the matter, not without making Fukuzawa repeat himself. Her eyes rested upon Kunikida’s shivering form; death would come for her friend soon, and she resolved to let him be the last. She would do everything that she could to stop anyone else she cared about from succumbing to this infection.

Two days later, Kunikida died.

And this time, Yosano allowed them to grieve him properly.

She spent hours sterilising the room from top to bottom, removing all traces of blood, and covering the wounds that had killed Kunikida to prevent even the slightest drop of blood from escaping. And only then, once she was sure that the room was as clean as it could be, did she allow everyone to come and say goodbye. Yosano knew she’d done right when Atsushi stepped into the room, took one look at the man that had taken him under his wing, and promptly burst into tears.

She had to leave the room then.

She didn’t go far, just outside into the main office where she leant against the wall, listening through the cracked door as everyone shared their final words with Kunikida, shedding tears over the person that had supported their endeavours at the Agency the most. It warmed her heart to hear such words spoken, she just wished that he hadn’t had to die to hear them. And for the first time in her life, she tried to believe that Kunikida’s spirit was there, along with Dazai’s, watching over them and giving them the strength to continue.

They were going to need it.

In the wake of Kunikida’s death, Yosano found herself being called away from the Agency more often than not, the government and local hospitals hearing of their encounters, however brief, with the infection and wanting to know more about her findings in studying the infection. The people she spoke to sounded hopeful on the phone, and Yosano felt nothing but guilt as she crushed that hope into tiny pieces by being unable to provide any information that wasn’t already known. It also crushed her to know that she hadn’t discovered anything new about the infection, but there was a determination building within her, one born from the desire to not lose anyone else that she considered family.

The television in the Agency was permanently left on, at least one channel always reporting on the status of the infection, updating people on how many were infected and where the worst rate of infection was. As expected, Suribachi City was affected the worst; the ruined city had been cordoned off the moment the public discovered the method of transmission, with no one allowed to enter or leave, no matter what. This caused some argument, and a lot of distress, as it meant that the people trapped within the city were sentenced to a slow and painful death, without any means of relief.

Yosano considered herself capable of controlling her emotions, but after watching two of her oldest friends die to the infection, she couldn’t help but cry over the people in Suribachi City.

Weeks passed, and the situation worsened around them, but the atmosphere within the Agency was a positive one as no one else fell to the infection—mostly due to Fukuzawa’s decision for them to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary. Which wasn’t hard to do considering that in the wake of a deadly infection, people weren’t exactly scrambling for their services. This newfound free time of theirs was spent doing whatever kept their focus off the news; reading, playing games, swapping stories with each other. It was almost as this were just a casual sleepover instead of an attempt to stay safe.

Yosano couldn’t bring herself to relax, going over her notes over and over again until she would collapse at her desk. She couldn’t relax, no matter how many times the others pleaded with her to take a break.

She’d already failed them twice; she wouldn’t do it again.

So of course, the infection made her eat her words.

Rumours began to spread that those suffering from the infection would do their best to seek out contact with others, not because they wanted to infect others, but because the infection took their ability to stay warm. And who was warm but living, healthy, people?

This made the infection more deadly, considering all it took to get infected was the tiniest cut, and naturally, not long after the news had dropped, the death toll began to rose, bring with it, crushing despair and a lack of hope for their situation ever getting better. Yokohama was now in lockdown mode, a last-ditch effort to stop the infection spreading. No one was to leave, even to get supplies, and those that risked it, were left to die in the streets.

The hospitals turned their focus to those that were uninfected, ejecting the victims of the infection onto the streets, breaking their vows to save all lives no matter what, just to try and save who remained. These hospitals swore that they’d focus on finding a cure, and that when they did, the people they threw out would be welcomed back and treated, but it didn’t take a genius to know those were empty words. The infection was killing faster now, spreading even faster to try and take down as many people as it could.

It was a logical decision really, to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the lives of the many, but already, two-quarters of Yokohama’s population was infected, and one-quarter dead, so who were they saving really?

No one, that’s who.

So, Yosano wasn’t surprised when her more empathetic colleagues wanted to help those that had been abandoned, even if it was just venturing out to get people indoors, to get them food and water so that they may stand a chance of pulling through the epidemic. And try as she might, Yosano couldn’t stop them.

Kenji.

Kyouka.

Atsushi.

One by one she watched them die, her heart fracturing as she tried desperately to save them, only to fail. Even Atsushi, who’s skill allowed him to regenerate, succumbed to the infection in the end. But… Yosano learnt something from that, and she kicked herself over not considering it sooner. As Atsushi lay there in the infirmary bed, skin literally melting off of his bones, she watched as his body tried to fix it; the damaged skin would knit back together, as if he’d never been infected in the first place, only for the wounds to reappear days later.

It was an endless cycle, one filled with pain and agony, and ultimately, it ended with Atsushi losing his mind.

At that point, it was just her, Atsushi, Ranpo, and Fukuzawa left in the building. Everyone else was dead. And when Atsushi became infected, Ranpo retreated immediately—not that Yosano could blame her friend, for despite being confronted with death since a young age like she had, it was different when they were people you cared about, and Ranpo had been struggling ever since Dazai first died months back—which left just her and Fukuzawa to do what they could for Atsushi.

No one could tell them that they hadn’t tried, because they had tried so, so hard, to keep Atsushi alive, praying that his body would somehow fight off the infection and a miracle would occur.

But instead of a miracle, a curse came.

The tiger inside Atsushi had always been uncontrollable, and was only placid due to Fukuzawa’s ability making it so. But the infection must’ve broken that connection, because as Atsushi’s healing ability failed, and his flesh rotted worse than it ever had, the tiger broke free. Yosano found herself shoved across the room as the tiger lunged for her and Fukuzawa, and she could only watch as Fukuzawa drew his sword and sliced Atsushi in half.

But not before sinking his teeth into the older man’s arm.

“NO!” Yosano threw herself onto her knees by Fukuzawa’s side, blinking rapidly as if that would make the wound go away. Only a few feet away, did Atsushi lay in his tiger form, eyes wide and dull, devoid of life, and Yosano knew she should do as she did, and take notes on the infection’s progression in the boy, but she couldn’t bring herself to, not when she had to come to term with the fact that she was going to lose the man that rescued and given her a new life.

Her shout must’ve been loud enough to catch Ranpo’s attention from wherever he’d sequestered himself, for she heard the infirmary door open, and the shattering of a ramune bottle seconds later.

And despite the fate that was coming for him, Fukuzawa smiled at them both, covering his wound with a hand. “It will be fine.” He said, voice filled with conviction as it always was. “I believe in the both of you.”

“There’s no cure—”

“We’ll cure it.” Ranpo’s determined words interrupted her own hopeless ones, and Yosano turned towards Ranpo. His eyes slid to look at her briefly, hardened, and devoid of emotion, before flicking back to Fukuzawa. Despite the look on his face, she could hear the pain in his voice. “We’ll cure it, so you better fight, President. You aren’t allowed to die.”

“I will do my best, Ranpo.”

The stakes were higher than ever before, with Fukuzawa infected, not only because of how much he meant to her, but because Ranpo became absolutely unbearable the moment that the man that had saved them both became so ill, he was a far cry from their saviour now. She tried not to snap at her friend when he was short with her, or when he demanded more than she could give, but it was hard not to when it felt like he was about to start biting her neck instead of merely breathing on it with how close he lingered. She understood his distress, was feeling much the same herself, and wanted nothing more than to find a cure to stop Fukuzawa from dying, but there was only so much she could do. Realistically, Yosano had already accepted that Fukuzawa was going to die, had prepared herself for it to happen, but Ranpo hadn't. Like when Fukuzawa had been infected by the Cannibalism skill all those months ago, Ranpo camped out by the older man's bedside, refusing to move, to eat, to sleep, and nothing Yosano said or did could change his mind.

It wasn't until she finally sat down and documented her observations on Atsushi that she finally gained a bit of hope.

Atsushi had only lasted as long as he did because of the regenerative qualities of his ability, and it reminded her of her own ability. She'd never thought to use her ability on the infection, since Dazai was immune to her skill to begin with, and after he’d died, she’d automatically assumed it would be like any other illness, and fail, but perhaps this was different. After all, the infection caused massive wounds, and those were something she could heal. And even if she couldn't cure the infection, perhaps she could buy enough time for a cure to be found. 

Perhaps she would be able to save Fukuzawa.

So as Fukuzawa grew sicker, she fought the urge to amputate his limbs to try and stop the infection. She had to wait for it to take hold more, if she wanted the best chance at defeating it, no matter how much it pained her to do so. It was hard, when the flesh began to melt off his bones, and he gave into the pain he was feeling despite the heavy amount painkillers she supplied.

And finally, the time came for her to use her ability.

It was the first, and only, time she did it, and she watched Fukuzawa's chest fall still, butterflies filling the room, apprehension filling her body as she waited for it to restart. And right where he'd been sitting the entire time, Ranpo sat, clutching Fukuzawa's hand within his own, squeezing tight. His head was ducked so she couldn't see what kind of face he was making, but she could see his lips moving, recognising the words as a prayer—so unlike Ranpo with his usually uncaring nature towards anything spiritual. But dire situations brought out the desperation in even the strongest of people, and Ranpo surely must've reached his limit by now.

Time ticked by, and still, Fukuzawa's chest remained still. 

And then, just as she was about to shatter, she saw it. A breath.

A singular breath.

It was weak and shaky, but it was there, and Yosano dove straight into doctor mode, taking Fukuzawa's vitals, and making sure that he had enough nutrients going into him to keep his body as strong as possible. She didn’t dare believe it, didn’t dare hope in case it was just a lie. But as the day passed by, those breaths grew stronger, and by evening, against the odds of everyone else they’d already lost, Fukuzawa opened his eyes.

"Did you cure it?" Fukuzawa asked. He was tired. Strained. Barely conscious, yet there was pride in his eyes.

"I'm not sure." Yosano admitted, ducking her head. "We'll just have to wait and see. Atsushi regenerated his wounds, but... they would reappear days later."

"Yeah, but Atsushi didn't have your healing ability." Ranpo huffed, looking more alive now that Fukuzawa was awake and talking. Yosano reckoned that if he could’ve, Ranpo would’ve crawled onto the bed right that instant. "You've cured it, I just know it. President's gonna be the first one to fight this stupid infection off, just you watch."

Yosano sincerely hoped that Ranpo was right.

And as the days passed, with Fukuzawa appearing to grow stronger, Yosano's hope began to return, along with a little optimism. She’d cured it. Every day, she checked Fukuzawa over, and every day, there were no wounds. But still, she held her breath, just in case it was false hope, and the infection was simply waiting to make a comeback. 

She’d cured it.

A week passed by with no changes, just growth, and Fukuzawa was able to get out of bed, taking his first steps since becoming infected. And this time, she cried. Because she'd done it. She’d cured it—she'd cured the infection, and all she'd had to do was use the ability that she'd once despised. Fukuzawa held her close, whispering quiet words of reassurance, telling her that he was proud of her perseverance. After that, she pulled away, smiling, and Ranpo took her place, throwing himself at the President and finally unleashing his own tears that he'd been holding back for months.

"I'm going to grab some food from downstairs. If you can eat something, I'll contact the hospital and tell them that I've managed to cure it." Yosano said, leaving Fukuzawa and Ranpo alone in the infirmary as she made her way to the storage area, where they'd stocked up on food before needing to isolate—thanks to Atsushi. She couldn't help but feel excited, moving with a skip in her step. Even though she was still upset at not being able to save her friends and co-workers, being able to save Fukuzawa had given her hope. There was no doubt in her mind that she would miss them for as long as she lived. All of them had left an impact on her, however long or short they'd been in her life for. Her heart clenched, but she forced the feeling away. There would be time to mourn after they'd stopped the infection running rampant.

And mourn she would.

She'd grabbed a decent amount of food, enough to host a small party that she believed was well deserved after everything they’d been through, and was just heading up the stairs when she heard a loud crash, and her heart stopped dead in its tracks.

"YOSANO!"

Like lightning, Yosano bolted up the stairs, the food in her hands falling to the floor, but she didn't care. That'd been Ranpo's voice, and he'd sounded terrified. Ranpo was never scared, never fearful, never terrified, which was how she knew it was bad. Yosano threw open the main door to the Agency, and dashed over to the infirmary, grateful that she'd left that door open when she'd left.

And then froze.

Red. That was all she could see. There was so much of it over the floor, over everything, that you almost wouldn't believe that the room had once been white. And in amongst the red, Yosano saw a petrified green; Ranpo, covered in more blood than she'd ever seen on him before. There was so much of it that she felt nauseous, a hand coming to cover her mouth, her arm wrapping around her stomach. Ranpo was holding onto something—no, someone.

Fukuzawa.

She hadn’t cured it.

"He just—" Ranpo tried to say, only to choke on his words. He raised a hand and stared at the blood, shocked. Whatever had happened had been fast, too fast for his genius brain to comprehend. Yosano could see it kicking into gear though, and she wanted to cry. "I don't know what happened—he was talking, and then—and then he was on the ground."

Yosano threw herself onto her knees beside the two of them, jamming her hand into Fukuzawa's neck only to recoil as the flesh sunk beneath her touch. What...?

Now that she was close enough, she could see that the wounds she'd cured had returned, but worse than before. Fukuzawa’s hands were nothing but bone, the skin and muscle sliding off his skeleton even in death. Where his skin remained, it was soft, sinking in places almost as if the elder’s insides were liquifying themselves. Where Ranpo clutched at his mentor, his hands left bruising imprints—although upon closer inspection, Yosano saw that the skin had actually broken, and was literally falling off around her friend’s grip.

And his face—his face—

It was cracked and split all over, blood and what looked to be brain matter oozing out of the cracks.

Fukuzawa was dead before he'd even hit the ground.

"I'm sorry, Ranpo, I'm so sorry." Yosano sobbed, bowing her head. She should've known it was too good to be true, should've known that it wasn't as simple as just using an ability. Why would it ever work that way? It wasn’t like it had worked before for her. And now Fukuzawa was gone, leaving just her and Ranpo as the sole survivors of this cursed infection.

"I'm sorry too." Came the shaky response, and Yosano lifted her head to look at Ranpo in confusion, uncertain as to why he was apologising when there hadn't been anything he could've done in the first place.

But then Ranpo lifted his hand, covered in Fukuzawa's blood, and through that blood, Yosano could see a cut.

A tiny cut, but a cut all the same.

And Yosano's heart shattered.

Please…

… no more.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

You have told us how to court your average gallifreyan but how would one go about courting a Gallifreyan member of the Faction Paradox? Like are they in to freaky shadow stuff because I can not move my shadow like that? Like what major differences are their in courting a member of Faction Paradox compared to your average run of the mill Gallifreyan or Renegade?

And is it technically possible to court a Celestis or is that to messed up?

How should you court a member of Faction Paradox/a Celesti?

Courting a Faction Paradox member is very much NOT recommended by the Institute, however, here are some pointers you may find helpful:

🧠 Continue to be intellectually stimulating: Faction Paradox members are no different to normal Gallifreyans, at least when it comes to you remaining intriguing enough for them. Discussing the intricacies of time loops over dinner might score you points, and so might proposing a toast to the entropy of the universe.

🍽️ Pick the right meal: Forget the spaghetti bolognese; think of dishes that defy physics or even just culinary decency. Maybe go for a meal that exists in a state of quantum uncertainty or a dessert that tastes like regret, if you can find such a thing.

✔️ Embrace mind games: Members of the Faction Paradox love a bit of an enigma. A potential partner who can maintain an aura of mystery is likely to be very intriguing to them. A sudden, nonsensical act or something like an outburst of Woody Woodpecker laughter signals that you're not just another predictable human.

🗣️ Give what you get: They'll probably test you with some snappy comments and insults, cos they love a bit of bants. Give back what you get like some kind of interstellar rap battle.

🫨 Embrace the rituals ... and the chaos: The Faction love a good ritual. You might not be able to move your shadow in eldritch ways, but participation in or even just an appreciation of these can go a long way in impressing them.

👏 Laud their achievements (but not too much): Faction members like to hear how good they are. But not too much, because there's a fine line between providing compliments and just being a sycophant.

🔥 Show hatred for Gallifreyan traditions and customs: They really don't like them, so you shouldn't either. Down with Rassilon!

😍 Physical and telepathic boldness: Unlike typical Gallifreyans, Faction members might be more open to physical and telepathic intimacy, though this could vary, as some may just find it all primitive.

🌟 Courting a Celesti

The Celesti inhabit a realm of existence that transcends conventional physical and temporal boundaries, making the concept of "courting" as we understand it a challenging idea. It'd be a bit like trying to date a cloud.

If you do manage to get into a relationship with a Celesti, don't think in any way you'd be able to control or influence it. Sorry, but you're not driving that ride.

🏫 So ...

Once again, despite all of this, remember that every person is unique, with their personality traits, interests, and views. Tailor your approach based on the individual you're courting.

Related:

How should you court a Gallifreyan?: Advice on dating a Gallifreyan.

How do Gallifreyans flirt?: How Gallifreyans approach flirting.

Factoid: What gift would suit my Gallifreyan and their biology?

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[yamishika]

When I used to watch the early seasons of the FT anime , something about Jellal always struck me as distinct about his features. His eyes always looked more prominent than the rest of the guys and I have cracked why.

My guy is wearing Kohl/Surma/Kajal.

Like LOOK at how defined his eyes are compared to another character , you can’t tell me the guy isn’t putting something on. Especially when no other guy or girl character has such defined eye looks (other than Macbeth but it’s obvious he’s wearing eyeliner)

Yes people might say art style for the first season I can agree but look at the characters and then Jellal and tell me if there isn’t something more there.

Look at the guys here , they have dark lashlines but nowhere NEAR as dark and prominent as Jellal.

Even compared to girls from the first season Jellal has a darker and more thicker lash line compared to them.

Look at the difference between him and Erza side by side! He definitely has a more defined lash line! And look compared to FT girls eyes, when it is the convention of girls usually having the darker lashline in anime.

And then Jellal

There's a clear distinction! His is not just more defined and connected compared to men in FT but also females too!

The reason I have come to the conclusion of Kohl/Kajal/Surma is because I HC Jellal with Arab heritage (or whatever would be the equivalent in earthland-) due to his name Jellal (which is basically another spelling of Jalal) and Kohl is known to be used by the men in the Arab culture to beautify them. And also Kohl is used by people in Arabia/India/Egypt due to its medicinal properties for retaining eye health and improving vision!

Also what differentiates for my thinking that Jellal is not using normal eyeliner but Kohl/Surma/Kajal is because of the way it is applied. Other eyeliners can go on the outer eye but Kohl/Surma is traditionally applied always in the inner corners of the eyes, just like Jellal has (in season 1)

(As you can see the girl in the photo above has her eyes lined like Jellal using Kohl/Surma/Kajal)

Considering Jellal’s magic , I can imagine there is a huge priority on his vision due to the speeds he travels at when casting, so it makes sense for him to use such a thing to help him in battle or aid in beating the consequences of using his magic so his sight isn’t compromised and remains strong!

Also because Jellal's magic revolves around using stars/light , this medicinal cosmetic has also been used to protect against the glare of light which would also come to help for Jellal in battle!

So what is the take away from this post? I put way too much thought trying to prove a HC I have had from young but found out it actually adds up now looking at the facts. You guys can tell me if i'm reaching or not with this after seeing the evidence and argument presented.

Also season 1 Jellal Fernandes is an ethnic king and we stan he never forgot his roots. <3