#i use two separate ways of writing the ''or'' operator IN THE SAME LINE OF CODE

[loveletterworm]

It's probably fine but everytime i do something like this i feel like it will be weighed against my soul one day

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello !! if it’s not too much of a bother can you write another piece featuring Lion 🫶 maybe another angsty piece, maybe a lil lion + farah combo or something else like lion and gaz getting separated from the 141 during a mission and having to fight their way back to the extraction point (?). totally up to you !!! also thank u for keeping us well fed 🙇‍♀️

Lions and Ibexes

PAIRING: John Price x Wife!Reader 'Codename Lion'

SYNOPSIS: Impulsive was what John always called you - affectionately, of course. But he sure does worry when you disappear without him.

WORDCOUNT: 4.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, death, canon typical violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, banter, no connection to 'I'll Take the Night Shift' except codenames, protective!Price, suggestive jokes, etc.

A/N: I wanna give Farah a big smooch on her forehead.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“So this is the woman that the Captain won’t keep quiet about,” you smirk and place your hand into Farah Karim’s, eyes shimmering as you both share a tight grip. 

“Commander,” greeting the black-haired woman, your light gear hangs off of you easily and efficiently; clean and well-taken care of. 

“Lion,” she nods, smirking back. “A pleasure.”

“Please,” you huff a laugh, “I wish it could be.” Expressions dim as you instantly get to work, the hot sun and dry air sticking to your flesh like a second skin of humidity. Releasing Farah’s hand you sigh and look around the old town, skimming over the forms of other Urzikstan Liberation Force soldiers. 

Farah does the same, breathing lowly. 

“On that, I believe you’d be right.” Brown eyes flick to yours, looking you over before the woman nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” your feet push you onward, following behind the Commander as your wedding band clinks against your chest. Held on that long chain, a hand comes up to brush it carefully, letting the man who wears the mirrored piece bring you comfort even from so far away. 

John was set to ship out in two days—there were some other important operations that had taken precedence. While you could have stayed behind with him, as you had wanted to do, a plea from one of the far-distant operators of One-Four-One had caught your ear. The name Farah Karim was known. 

If you didn’t offer assistance, you’d never feel right with yourself. One call to Laswell and it was all set up. 

“I’ll be there in two days,” John had muttered into your scalp as you both lay in bed, tight to one another; lashes fluttering. “Wait for me, yeah? No running off.” 

Your smirk had made him sigh a chuckle. “No stunts of heroics, my Love? Please, do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know?”

“Well,” the words are uttered into his neck and John pulls you tighter into him. “I think that’s just about the most romantic thing to happen to someone.” 

Smiling to yourself, you bring the ring to your lips and kiss it lightly before letting it drop. In your head, John is still in your shared flat in London, and you’ll be back by the hour. If only. 

“You contacted Laswell and said you had encountered more of Barkov's remaining cells?” Your voice carries easy authority; ingrained confidence. 

Farah looks back and nods firmly. 

“They’ve taken over a town in the mountains, my forces can’t break the line.” She sighs aggressively and you stare with a sliding frown. “Even dead, Barkov cannot leave my people alone.”

In the back of your throat, you hum, “Well, parasites tend to be resilient.” Farah leads you into a home with maps on the tables and low talking of strategies from others. They pause when you enter and you nod politely. Many here knew your husband as the Commander did—all those years back when he was still only a Lieutenant and had broken Farah and her brother Hadir out from the Russian’s jail; labeled as prisoners of war. 

John had told you about it during one of the many late nights in your joint offices. Eyes tired and his hands playing with your hair.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask genially, standing near the table and placing your hands down on it—standard M4A1 resting over your chest and your secondary weapon strapped to your thigh. Unlike most, you’d opted for lighter gear to allow you to move faster. 

Fewer packs sit on your vest, and the gleam of the knife on your shoulder was a testament to your preference to close, silent, encounters. Though you liked to use your silver tongue to get out of situations, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work in this instance. 

“Captain Price told me you’re one of the best undercover agents he’s seen.” You perk at this, looking over with raised brows.

“Hell,” your chuckle echoes, “when you said he couldn’t keep quiet I thought you were exaggerating.” 

Farah smiles cheekily at you before pointing to the map of a mountain town surrounded by red Xs.

“My soldiers have marked off choke points all around the area. They’re the only pathways to the town, but heavily guarded.” She glances around the room and you hear her sigh heavily. “I wouldn’t have asked for assistance unless I knew I needed it. I’d prefer to leave foreign fighters out of this conflict, unlike my enemy.” 

“I understand,” your head shakes. “It’s your home—I’ll go where you need me to. John should be here in two days to assist.”

Farah’s face flashes with surprise, her full brows rising on her head. “Price is coming?”

You shrug and laugh, “he’s stubborn.” 

The woman chuffs before moving to fold her arms over her chest. “I think perhaps he’s more of a smitten husband, hm?” At the sheepish expression on your face and dipping eyes, Farah barks a laugh.

The band around your neck clinks into the stock of your gun as you stand to your full height. 

“Is it that obvious,” you tease, tilting your head to her. You knew it was.

“I believe the simple action of asking is proof enough, Lion.” The commander looks at her work on the table, smiling easily but focusing still on her plan of attack. “But, regardless, I give my thanks for flying out on such short notice.”

“We help our own.” Resting your hands on the body of your weapon, you smile fondly. “Now, who do I need to kill?” 

—

As it turns out, killing was the very baseline of what you needed to do. 

Shuffling into the dark armor of the dead Russian soldier at your feet, you grunt at the slick spread of blood on the ground as you strap arm braces to your limbs. 

“Heavy as all hell,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the large helmet and shoving it over your head with a puff of air. 

Farah was going to lead a distraction on the far side of the western choke point while you slipped into the ranks, placing packs of C4 in some of the large-stocked weapons buildings. Easy enough for you, you admitted. You’d done things like this a million times over. 

When all was said and done, slipping your knife into the new belt at your waist, you gaze down at the dead man with a huff of air; seeing the blood still pooling from the very obvious signs of a slit up the left armpit. You blink and stuff your wedding band down your shirt. 

“Bad day, buddy,” grabbing his legs, you bare your heels and drag the body behind a large outcropping of rocks—long streaks of crimson left behind. “I’d hate to be you right now.” 

Grunting, you drop the limp flesh with a thump like a paper-towel roll meeting the counter. 

Shuffling back into the open, your feet make tracks to get you closer toward your targets. You hike the small pouch Farah gave you farther up your back without a word more. 

John had always said you were quick-witted, but when he got here he’d lose that hat of his in disbelief. The truth was that you had forgotten what little of the Russian language you’d initially known, and the situation you found yourself in now was frankly not ideal.

C’mon Lion, you think to yourself, just pick up social cues and you’ll be good. 

Oh, your husband was going to lose his shit.

—

“Come again?” The Captain barks. “What do you fuckin’ mean she’s in the base?!”

“I just explained it,” Farah levels, raising a brow. Blue eyes narrow with a growl until the Commander's lips flicker in a smirk. “We just had word three minutes ago. She’s fine, Captain.” Fingers find John’s nose bridge, digging deep into the flesh in large exasperation and worry.

He had caught a C17 and came here a day early after he’d gotten a bad feeling—internal wife radar going off as it usually did when you placed yourself in danger without him. Which was more often than not.  

I told her not to be impulsive. 

John sighs long and low, shaking his head. “Farah…you sent her in alone?” 

“She is quite capable, Price.”

“I fucking…” He stops himself and puts his hands on the table in the center of the building. Men and women were snickering from the corners, sending amused glances. “I know.”

Farah sends a glance to her soldiers and they turn away to cover their smiling mouths. Enjoyment was in her tone as she grabs the walkie-talkie from the table top and clips it to her vest. 

“There were more men than we anticipated—she had to be more careful when placing the charges. Captain,” John glares up at her when his eyes leave the maps. The Commander teases, “She is fine.”

As if on cue, the radio fizzles with your voice. Farah looks down with surprise and the Brit's eyes snap to it immediately; body tense. 

There’s a moment of garbled static where the Captain feels his heart beating out of his chest. The panic that had snapped through him when you hadn’t come out to greet him when he’d landed was primal; genuine fear stuck in his bones like spiky grass. The bond the two of you had was closer than anything on this plane of existence. It was rare to not see one without the other.

Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

“You should tell your men to move unless they want to be scorched, Farah!” The woman in the room smiles ferally and raises a smug brow as she looks at John. 

“Copy, Lion. You have my thanks.” 

“I didn’t know you could improvise Russian—it’s like the Slavic blood just entered my body!” The Brit covers his eyes with his hand and groans at the base of his throat. 

“Tell her to get her arse back here before she gets bloody shot.” John takes off his bucket hat and tosses it to the table with a gloved hand, punching his hair back from his forehead. “Giving me gray hairs,” he grunts. 

Farah laughs and says eagerly into the walkie, “Someone’s here to say hello.”

“...Oh, fuck.” Your panting breath clears and after a long glare at the device, John hears you say in a slow and awkward tone, “Hello, my Love!”

Farah tilts the radio closer to him and looks highly pleased. 

“Get back here. Now.” John grunts out, fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them. “I told you to wait for me.”

You laugh nervously, deflecting, “...did you, Dear? I guess I misheard you.” The Brit’s jaw clenches but Farah can speak before he can.

“Lion, are all the charges set, then?” You seem thankful for the distraction, sighing over the line.

“All good over here! I just need the O.K from your men and then it’s about to get a whole lot brighter.” 

“I’ll relay the news—get away, as far as you can.”

“Already on it,” your breathy chuckle exits and you pause before saying. “See you soon, Love!” 

Tiny blue eyes bug, “Wait–!” The line clicks off and Farah is already tapping into the frequency for her soldiers, turning slightly away to converse in quick Arabic. 

—

Evening rolls around and you jog back into the Liberation Force’s base, greeting the guards stationed with a breathless sigh; utterly sweaty but happy you’d gotten half a ride back from some locals. You’re back in your original gear, sear marks on your cheeks and hair slightly burned, but nonetheless unharmed. 

Everyone welcomes you back with handshakes and pats on your shoulders—brushes to your arm as people pass. You guide yourself back to the main building with chuckles and deep smiles of achievement. 

“Someone’s happy.” John’s voice freezes you halfway into the home and you cringe like a leaf. After a moment your eyebrows slide up with a cheeky smile.

“John,” you draw out his name and turn, seeing him leaning against the house with his arms crossed and legs stiff. He looks unimpressed in all of his handsome glory. “Well, don’t you look nice—did you trim your beard before coming out?” 

Walking slowly towards him, you loop your hands around his waist and press kisses into his neck sweetly. The man sighs long and you feel his large palms rest on your hips heavily. You blink innocently into his orbs. 

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Love.” The glint in his expression eggs you on as his nose tints down to touch yours. You smile brightly, seeing the wrinkles on his forehead dim as he melts into you easily. 

Whispering, you utter to the air, “I’d say you like my tongue, you brute. Tell me often enough.” Not a beat is missed, but you feel his cheeks go slightly red.

“Keep it on a leash and maybe I’d like it more, yeah?” You snort loudly, head dipping only to feel his lips press into your scalp; his smile is teasing as his beard drags against you. 

John breathes you in along with the scent of sand. One of his hands travels up to lock into the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your necklace. The one that mirrors his own down to the very dents and scratches. 

“You alright?” The words are a murmur into your flesh. You let him play with your wedding band as your smile softens to the same sensation of warm pelts on a wooden floor. 

There was no use telling you to stop your crusades, the Brit knew that. You did what you wanted and damn the consequences; John was stuck with damage control but knew you had the skills and know-how to break all odds. You still held that same fire that the woman he married wore like a crown of fangs without fail.  

“Always,” you reassure him, hugging his waist tighter and staring into his eyes.

The both of you lapse into a delicate hold. John’s arms cage you in and you’d have it no other way as fingers drag over warm flesh, never mind the brutal dig of gear or the stain of blood. Neither could keep you away from the other. 

“When will you stop making my heart rip out of my chest, Sweetheart?” John asks, smirking down at you. “Trying to give me a heart attack before forty, eh?”

“Oh, please,” you whisper against his lips, eyes alight with mischief as he watches you closely—pulse pounding against yours. He could never be angry at you. “We both know that if you have one, I’ll be having one too. We’ll end up being brain-dead at the same damn time, no doubt.” 

He laughs against you lowly, having to pull back to shake his head at your bland confession. “You’re fuckin’ mental, Love.” He breathes in soft puffs of breath. You gaze up at him, laced with affection and care, as he rests his forehead on yours. “Ah, but that’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all a bit crazy.” 

“You might be a little bit higher on the metaphorical scale,” you tease, face serious but eyes betraying you. They always would when it came to John; the only person to break through that ‘cunning nuisance’ that everyone always mentioned in your file. 

“Really, now?” He blinks, smirking and rubbing at your hip absentmindedly and leaning closer—pushing your neck to the side. 

“Just a bit,” you huff, not even realizing. 

Before you can utter another word, firm lips capture you like a beast in iron bars, bulky forearms stuck at the curve of your spine. You chirp into John’s mouth in surprise but melt into him as his large purr resonates into your bloodstream. Singing, you bring your hands to his cheeks, digging through those bristles to feel the burn on your hands. 

Humming, your husband nuzzles his nose into your cheek like a dog would, letting him take in your scent as you feel your legs go weak. You enjoy the worship he gives you; always would. Your body is tightly held against his own and you gladly would have shown him how much you enjoyed him being here if only for the small fact you needed to talk to Farah. 

With one last pass of his reddened lips, you slip back and kiss his bristly cheek with a chuckle. 

“Later.” 

He groans into you. “Tease.” 

“I didn’t even do anything!” You laugh loudly, moving out of his hold to walk into the house as he follows at your heels. John’s hands go to the top of his vest collar to rest. 

He leans down and whispers, “Don’t need to, Love.” 

Your face burns for him and only him as he grumbles out chuckles at your blown pupils. Huffing, you turn and roll your eyes, trying to dispel your flaming blood. Farah waits for you and with a happy glance up she comes from around the table and claps you on both shoulders. You grunt in surprise but grip her elbows with a laugh. 

“Barkov’s remaining cell was wiped out—my soldiers are hunting down the remnants as we speak.” She squeezes your gear and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lion, for coming out when you did. The Captain was not wrong in his assessment.” 

You turn your head to the side and glance back at John. “Hear that my Love, I’ve heard you talk about me. That’s so precious.” 

His face goes red under his beard, and his feet shuffle as you and Farah share a joking glance. John releases under-the-breath grumbles before the Commander addresses him. The woman releases you but speaks past your person.

“Some of my younger soldiers wanted you to mentor them with the use of their weapons, do you plan on staying the night?” You and John share a look, a seeming telepathic communication going on. 

He nods at you and you smile. “Only tonight, we ship out at first light. I’ll do what I’m able.”

“Then you also have my thanks. They’ll learn much, I’m sure. Lion,” John comes and gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving. You watch him go for a moment before rubbing at your dirty neck while you listen to Farah. “Come with me, there’s fresh water on the roof.” 

“Oh,” you perk, suddenly realizing the fatigue in your bones and the dryness of your throat. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

As you both ascend the stairs to the roof, there’s a still silence that falls, a calm nothingness. When you finally stand on the flat roof, you look over the vast land as Farah hands you a chilled water bottle from a mini-fridge. You take it with a small nod in thanks. 

“Nice view,” you motion with the bottle before taking a long sip—downing half of it in one go. 

Farah smiles and hums. “Urzikatan is a beautiful place,” you listen and wipe at your mouth; seeing people walk the streets below as the red sun grows even lower. In the wind, your nose twitches to sand and dust, with some hint of floral notes and arid cleanliness. Farah’s face seeps with a low sadness when she looks out to the land and you pause your drinking. Brows pulling in, you watch her. 

“Farah?” You ask, carefully. It’s a moment before she responds.

“I…” She crosses her arms and sets her feet. “I wonder if this place will ever see its freedom. We’ve been fighting for so long already. My family has known war more than anything else.” Brown eyes drift to you from the side of her eye. 

There’s a tightness in your chest. You can’t imagine what Farah feels right now, what she has felt. Years of this…and still her home is under foreign subjugation. A frown grows on your face and you put the half-full bottle to the small wooden table near the roof’s corner. 

“You’ll get your sovereignty, Farah.” You try your best to speak your mind to the woman but remain truthful to your belief. Farah stares out as you sigh lowly. “Maybe not now—maybe not in this generation—but someday the sun is going to set on a free Urzikatan. You’re plenty strong enough to assure that and you’ve done a proper job so far. The frames are already set.” 

The Commander hums and gazes at her soldiers below as they mull about, laughing with each other and enjoying the company of their fellow countrymen.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?” Farah asks you, and you study her genuine interest in her own thoughts. “Who we would be if nothing ever happened to us.” 

You stare for a moment, skull tilting down to gaze at the top of the roof. It’s not an easy question to answer. 

“Sometimes,” your lips admit. Farch eagerly pivots to your form like you hold the greatest answer imaginable. She’s been through so much—losing her family, and her home. Humming, your eyes shift to the setting sun; blinking at it. Against all of this, your lips flinch up into a smile. “But not often.” 

Farah’s eager gaze turns confused, her brows furrowing deeply with a scrunched face. 

“Because right here, right now,” John walks down the street below, and your eyes fall to him as easily as a leaf dances to the ground. The expression on your face eases. “It couldn’t have happened if there were never bad days.” Your husband looks up, and you see him pause among the ranks of other fighters. You chuckle softly, head tilting to the side. 

John stares at you as if you’re the only person to exist, moving one hand from his vest to jerk two fingers in a subtle greeting. Farsh watches the interaction closely, tension loosening from her body. Your head nods slowly to your husband and you say to the woman, absent-minded, “I’m right where I need to be…And the sun has never looked brighter.”

Farah huffs a laugh, eyes running back and forth between the two of you. 

“He loves you,” she says, “deeply.” 

“God,” your laugh echoes, “I sure hope so.” The both of you laugh. 

It felt easy to speak to the Commander, truthfully. Being surrounded by four men all of the time can get catty even with such a strong bond as you had with One-Four-One. 

You dare to share more.

"In my mind, John and I are still in Hertfordshire for our wedding,” The words come out of you slowly, unwrapping emotions one layer at a time as if swaddled in a dark veil of internal nostalgia. You watch John as he walks along, oddly sad but filled with something that makes you want to take him up into your arms with a wet laugh. “Sitting back on the grassy hills outside of town in my gown and him in his tux. The wind is cold…but neither of us can find it in ourselves to shiver. The sun's setting on our heads and making everything glow gold. His fingers are running through my hair…” You pause and hear Farah’s soft breath in the air, but you don’t look at her. Your eyes stay stuck on one person only. “When I die,” your words continue, “I can't ask for anything more than just a glimpse of that again. Just a flicker of that hill. Of those blue eyes looking into mine. I don't think it would be all that bad if I could live in that moment for senseless eternity. If I could live in it for only one second." 

John looks back at you from over his shoulder, your form shrouded in the setting sun as he slowly walks away from you. You gaze with melted eyes, the ring around your neck shining all the brighter. 

“I’m right where I need to be,” finishing, you turn your glossy eyes to Farah, who stares with a wide pull to her lids. “And you need to believe that even if you never get to see that freedom—that hill—you’ll make sure someone else can climb it just an inch farther.” 

It’s a long moment before Farah answers.

“The both of you will do this until one of you dies, hm?” You blink before you shrug. 

“Not one.” Your tone is easy, and John’s shadow turns a corner; out of sight. “I’d never let him go without me.”

TAGS:

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[pinkacademiaprincess]

Hi! I’m about to start uni in October (law)

Can you give me a list of to-dos to mentally and physically prepare for this new journey? Like, things to bring, items to buy, notebooks etc 🥹💘

Operation Straight-A Student: A Comprehensive Guide to Prepping for a Successful Uni Experience 🎀📚💗✏️

ty for the ask! i'm not a law student, so this is gonna be more general uni advice that i hope can apply for you. best of luck in your journey, you're gonna do amazing things!!

step no. 1: plan, plan, plan!

for me, being organized & prepping ahead of time has been so helpful. even if things get a bit hectic or tough, having a routine to fall back on is key. here's how i do it!

google calendar

as soon as i have my class schedule, i input all my class meeting times on google calendar. then, based on whatever free space is left over, i allocate time for schoolwork and studying. here's the schedule i designed for this upcoming term:

make sure your study/ classwork time accounts for whatever online courses you're taking too. you should also include blocks for work, club meetings, etc. if they're recurring. i have google calendar linked to my phone so i get notifs for each time block.

planner

i recommend having a good planner. whether this is online or physical, depending on your preference, a weekly planner of your own is helpful for staying on top of work & having peace of mind.

the planner i use is the moleskine weekly planner. here is what it looks like inside:

on the left side i write all the tasks i have on each weekday (similar to the google calendar). on the right side, i list all the tasks i have to complete during that given week - i open the syllabi for all my classes and input whatever hw, assignments, projects, etc. are upcoming. i write them down in a checklist along with the date they're due. then, during my study blocks, i can check this page & decide what to work on!

note-taking & classwork

you should also have supplies for note-taking. some ppl prefer to take digital notes, so this means using your laptop or a tablet & stylus. personally, i like to take handwritten notes, so i bring loose-leaf lined paper & pencils to my lectures. i write the class name & date as the header for each page. when i'm done taking notes, i write the key topics in the top left-hand corner of the pager (in "no-man's land") so i can easily find the notes on specific topics when i'm flipping through them.

in terms of classwork, i recommend having a folder for each of your classes where you can store notes, assignments, tests, etc. i know some people use one big binder for all classes, but if you have a separate folder for each, you don't have to carry them all around on days when you only have two or three classes. i like the brand five star bc the folders are very durable and i've had the same ones all throughout uni!

for me, i've never been a huge notebook person b/c i like to keep my subjects separate so i rarely fill up an entire notebook. you can buy one to start with, and see once school starts if you think you need more!

other supplies

in terms of supplies, i'm honestly pretty minimalistic. the necessities for me are my planner, a folder & loose-leaf paper, and a pencil pouch with plenty of pens & pencils. i also bring my laptop & charger with me to school bc i use that for my online classes.

i do enjoy having cute supplies! i have a cute pink pencil pouch, glittery mechanical pencils, and fun pens. i also put stickers all over my laptop to give it a personal touch. i did a bit of embroidery on my backpack as well. you don't need to spend tons of money on aesthetic supplies, especially if it's something you won't have for long. but, finding simple ways to add a personal touch to your items can be fun & motivating!

step no. 2: make an action plan

i feel like it's easy to tell yourself you wanna do certain things or be a certain person during school. for example, i always want to be super studious, outgoing, & involved, but i used to struggle sm to actually do that. instead of only thinking of how you want to be, create actual steps/ tasks for yourself. here are my action items for inspo:

sit in the front row of every class - this can be daunting, but in my uni experience, wherever you sit in the first week becomes your (un)official assigned seat. get to class early, take a deep breath, and sit yourself down at the front! you'll be forcing yourself to stay at the front, but i promise it's fine! i really prefer this b/c if you & the prof get to class early you can chat a bit. also, when i wanna participate, i can speak at my regular volume & they'll hear me (rather than if i'm in the back row and had to scream). if nothing else, you'll become a familiar face!

attend office hours for each class at least once - i sometimes felt nervous/ anxious to go to office hours and talk to the professors & ta. but when you do it once, you realize they truly just want to help! getting to know the ppl who grade your assignments can be super useful. they might give you advice or info you don't get in lectures. plus, they are super knowledgeable!

raise your hand once per week - this forces you to be engaged with the content. i used to have such horrible social anxiety & the thought of speaking up in class & getting an answer wrong was my worst nightmare. and when i set this rule & began forcing myself to participate, i did make mistakes. but guess what... everyone moves on immediately. you might feel like the world is ending. it haunted me for weeks after 😢 but no one else cares! in the end, ppl will only remember that you were confident enough to raise your hand & speak up, not what you said. pls don't let your education suffer just b/c you're afraid some classmates might judge you! if raising your hand to answer problems is too daunting, start with asking clarifying questions & slowly build up to whatever you're able to do.

start a conversation with a classmate - having classmates that you're friendly with is so important. if you miss a lecture, need help on a concept, etc. you'll have someone you can turn to. and that's the least of it - you can end up making long-lasting friends! yes, it's scary to talk to a stranger. so, force yourself to do it as early as possible in the semester. an easy one - if you see someone sitting by an empty seat, ask if that seat is taken. if not, yay! it's go time 😊 sit by them and find something else to talk about - give them a (genuine & non-creepy) compliment, ask them if they've seen the syllabus, ask if they know the prof, etc. just something to get the convo started!! figure out their name, major, and other stuff too. once you've talked with them long enough to feel like you're getting along (whether that's after one class or multiple) ask for their number/ discord/ whatever so you can keep in touch! if they share your major, you should keep in contact with them b/c you might have other classes together in the future. but, again, in the best-case scenario, you have a new friend!

wear a cute outfit once per week - sometimes i would get a bit embarrassed or self-conscious to dress up for class. i forced myself to do it once per week, starting the first week of class, to set a precedent for myself. slowly i eased my way into wearing cute, fun outfits every day! no one is judging you as much as you are judging yourself, so have fun & be true to you.

step no. 3: study smarter, not harder

attending class is one thing, but you've got to put in the effort to study if you truly want to succeed. but, not all study methods will work for every single person. figure out how to study so you don't waste time with methods that don't work for you.

determine your learning style(s)

there are a few widely accepted learning styles. you've probably tried all of them throughout your time at school, so think back on which learning experiences have been most and least successful for you. then, connect them back to these learning styles to figure out ways you can most effectively study.

visual:  if you learn by seeing info visually, such as with maps, graphs, diagrams, charts, etc.

auditory: if you learn by getting info in auditory form, aka when it's heard or spoken

kinesthetic: aka hands-on, if you learn by doing & applying

reading/writing: if you learn info best when it’s in words, aka by writing it down or reading it

you might find that multiple of these learning styles are effective for you, maybe there's one that sticks out as the most similar to your style of learning, or maybe one that just doesn't work for you. now, you don't need to assign yourself one and forego the rest, but you can adjust the time you spend on various study methods based on how well they work for you.

for me, i've realized over time that i am NOT a reading learner. in high school i would diligently read all the textbook assignments, spending hours getting through the chapters, only to retain none of it & do poorly on assignments & tests.

on the other hand, i respond really well to kinesthetic learning - when applying concepts hands-on, such as with practice problems, i have a much better understanding of concepts & retention.

fast forward to college - i spend very little time on assigned readings. in fact, sometimes i skip them all together 🫢 b/c if i spend an hour reading the textbook but retain none of it, that's an hour wasted. especially if the content from the textbook is going to line up with the lecture, i'm much better off paying attention & taking good notes in class, and then spending my study time doing practice problems. if i really do need to read the textbook, i have to make it interactive for myself - i answer the questions at the end of the chapter, take notes, quiz myself, etc.

now, my advice here isn't to skip textbook readings!! that's not something i recommend b/c for so many people, it IS effective and helpful! when it comes to studying, play on your strengths. don't try to force yourself to learn in a way that doesn't work for your brain. make modifications & prioritize your learning! here is an awesome guide to different methods that work for the various learning styles.

find your ideal study environment

you can also maximize the effectiveness of your studying based on the environment you're in. if you can decide what factors help or hinder your studying abilities, it will help you decide where you should make your go-to study spot!

at home or in public? sometimes, studying in a public place can be unproductive. it might make you feel more stressed (like the sensation of having your teacher look over your shoulder during a test 🫣) or distracted. for me, studying in public is actually useful b/c i'm less likely to get disctracted. if i'm in my room i might get tempted to open up tumblr or pinterest, but in public i feel like ppl might see me get off topic which deters me LOL. however, studying at home is nice b/c you're in the comfort of your own personal space - you can change into pjs, cuddle your pet, grab a snack, etc. i do a mix of studying in public & at home b/c i feel like they both have their benefits

quiet or noisy? do you study better in a silent environment, or do you like some sound/ white noise? personally, i cannot deal with ANY noise when i'm trying to study, it totally breaks my focus 😭but some people like the ambient/ white noise of a coffee shop

music or silence? similar to the last one, does having music help you stay focused, or distract you? i know ppl will swear by different things - classical music, upbeat music, songs in different languages, etc. again, i personally cannot handle any sounds 😅 but if music keeps you alert, plan accordingly - have earbuds or go to a coffee shop that has a playlist going

nature or indoors? maybe you find it stuffy to be indoors all day & studying out in the open air helps you stay grounded and calm. on the flipside, being exposed to the elements might just make you more distracted. if you like studying outdoors, try public parks with benches, and also see if your campus has outdoor seating areas. some libraries do too. for a happy medium, you can study someplace with large windows/ nice view.

independent or collaborative? do you study better on your own or in groups? you can join a study group or go to office hours to get a sense of studying in a group setting vs. alone. group studying can help hold you accountable, make it more interactive, and keep you focused. that being said, i def prefer studying independently. i like to go at my own pace, and tbh i get easily distracted w/ others and will begin to just chit chat

based on how you answer those questions, you can decide what your ideal study environment is & pick a go-to place! for me, based on my preferences, my most effective study environment going to the library alone or studying in my room.

that's all for this post! i feel it got very long but i had so many tips to share. there's no "one size fits all" guide to navigating uni life. but i think everyone can benefit from prepping in advance & being mentally prepared. knowing your own strengths + having a plan of attack will guide you in stressful/ uncertain times!

overall, take the time to get to know yourself & figure out how you can be at your very best. apply whichever bits of advice resonate, and ignore anything that's not gonna serve you. this is YOUR journey!

and remember, even with all the planning in the world, things can go unexpectedly. you are more than equipped to deal with whatever life throws your way! when you are faced with unexpected things - pause & think, assess the situation, & determine your best course of action. above all, YOU'VE GOT THIS! 💗

[theheirofthesharingan]

Okay, sorry if this was asked before but I'm curious and I'd really like to learn more. You've mentioned in a couple of posts now that Itachi wasn't retconned. Could you please elaborate further?

Hey! No, this wasn't asked before. I was thinking of making a separate post for this, but procrastination is evil. So, I am one of the 'Itachi was meant to be a good guy/was not evil/had more to him than he let on' people. Watching the anime, it was the feeling that there was more to him. His reveal was along the lines of devastation and shocking for me than surprise. Detailed post is below the cut.

First thing first.

This was Itachi's first look that Kishimoto had planned.

Itachi was originally conceived as the leader of Konoha's Special Assassination and Tactical Squad called the "Anbu", dubbed the Itachi Squad (イタチ隊, Itachi-tai), which would have been a 70-man group divided into four teams, specializing in assassination and other illicit operations. However, this idea was scrapped in favour of the current Itachi working for the Akatsuki.

The above paragraph is from Itachi's wikipedia that cites a couple of interviews as sources. People can't be too blind in their delusion to think the author who wrote the story had no idea what he was writing.

Next is the Naruto Databook that has some fishy things if we look closely. In the first glance it's not very obvious, but after learning the truth it seems very much obvious.

It says, "the ones who know the reason of its downfall are very small". Go back to Obito's words about only four people being aware of the reason of the clan's downfall.

Additionally, Itachi carried out 134 B-Rank missions. Zero A Rank. And one S-Rank. The S rank mission being the Uchiha massacre. It's very fishy that he was given one s rank mission without any A tank mission. Suspicious? We know later on why.

It's also interesting because the first databook was published in 2002 and Itachi first appeared in 2003. If his twist wasn't planned from the beginning this databook is very telling.

Since I mentioned how he looked, here's him in Sasuke's flashbacks for the first time.

He looks far from evil or sadistic. You want to know who enjoys killing for fun? Hidan. Itachi, on the other hand, on the day of the massacre itself, looks miserable and lost.

In chapter 7, he in a haze-like manner he talks about crying. In many English translations it's translated as 'he made me cry' and in many it's this. It's very, very vague, but his statement is complimented by Sakura's question, to which he still responds in the similar way 'My..' Maybe he was trying to say 'My brother', but he instead finishes his speech with 'my goal is to take revenge' etc., Since it's still very early so it might not be the strongest evidence, but a few chapters later in chapter 27, during their fight against Haku, when Sasuke awakens his Sharingan, he has two tomoe in his right eye.

Yes, he might have awakened it this way, but it also suggests that maybe already had his Sharingan and that's why this is 'asymmetrical' awakening? In the later chapters we find out he actually did have his Sharingan he awakened after the massacre.

This flashbacks in chapter 127 most firmly establishes Itachi's twist. The tilted head-protector. Sasuke remembers it vaguely, but he has no recollection of Itachi crying that night, because his mind is still hazy from the "truth" Itachi wanted him to believe. We know later on the significance of this scene.

There are three moments before Itachi was even introduced that give away what we see right after his truth reveal and connect to the chapter 403.

The 'Itachi was retconned' camp also uses 'Itachi was meant to be older (than 13) but Kishi made him younger later on' as an excuse to justify their retcon bullshit.

Kakashi, in chapter 142, states Itachi was 13 when he was made the Anbu captain.

Itachi graduated when he was just seven. Sasuke is the same age as Itachi was when he graduated from the Academy. Itachi is 17 at the time of his first appearance and Sasuke is 12. It is enough to tell lies were spread about Itachi. We, obviously, learn later on why.

Some more obvious hints were his interaction with Asuma, Kurenai, and Kakashi.

The criminal infamous for annihilating one of the strongest clans refuses to indulge in fight?

He also asks Kisame to keep things low key and not get too much attention. That's an excuse. He's not here to wage war. Yes, later on he does ask Kisame to go ahead. But that's because he's a spy. He cannot let Danzo know he dropped his guard. One single mistake from his side that could unearth the truth of the massacre and Danzo would lay hands on Sasuke. Plus, while he's strong, his opponents aren't just fragile saplings who couldn't stand any blow he or Kisame cast. He knew reinforcements would be on the way.

Kakashi also wonders why Itachi didn't just kill him. Again, yes, the torture was brutal, but they're ninja who are meant to do and endure cruel things. Itachi had to look like he was a menacing criminal reputed to have killed the Uchiha singlehandedly.

So, he completely avoids fighting Asuma and Kuernai, takes on only Kakashi because he's strong and can take it, also has Sharingan. But he completely refuses to go against Jiraiya. Jiraiya may or may not be stronger than him. Maybe they were equal. However, recalling Obito's words again: Itachi devoted himself to fighting Sasuke to death.

Two conclusions come from this:

He didn't want to fight Jiraiya because it would result in a massive bloodbath and killing a leaf Shinobi is out of question for him. He's not a coward. He just doesn't want to fight him.

As we know from later on, he wanted to fight and die at Sasuke's hands only. Killing a Konoha Shinobi or dying at the hands of someone that isn't Sasuke isn't a part of his plan.

This can also be tracked further when Kisame captures the Four Tails.

Kisame most likely knew about Itachi's illness, knew Itachi wanted to die at Sasuke's hands. The reason Itachi didn't fight Jiraiya and Rōshi was most likely the same.

Kisame comments on Itachi's 'lingering affection' towards the village. The Akatsuki pairings' dynamics are quite opposite. Deidara and Sasori love art but have differing opinions on eternal vs explosive. Hidan and Kakuzu represent religion vs materialism (money). And Itachi and Kisame represent treachery vs loyalty. Itachi isn't loyal to Akatsuki, Kisame is.

They also wonder why is Itachi taking the matter of kidnapping Naruto so lightly. He could have done it very easily. We know now that that wasn't his intent and his objective to visit the village was something else.

As popular as 'Itachi knocked on the door before kidnapping Naruto' meme is, the truth is, he wasn't there to kidnap him at all. Replace Itachi with Kisame alone for a moment. Knock on the door? No, sir. Naruto would be half-dead. Or replace him with Hidan and Kakuzu. They're sadistic bastards and would have damaged Naruto in the worst possible way.

Furthermore, when you think of it, he revealed 'Akatsuki are after jinchuriki' years prior to the Akatsuki even began collecting the tailed beasts. It was a message he left because it was important. His job in the Akatsuki wasn't to "pass on the info to the village." It was to keep tabs on them so they don't attack Konoha.

After the massacre, Sasuke's unwavering faith in Itachi despite being put in Tsukuyomi. At first it doesn't seem too much, but we later discover that Itachi used to be a kind and gentle boy. So this bit isn't just Sasuke is blind, but also that Itachi was a kind child before the tragedy happened.

Sasuke's flashbacks in chapter 220 also hint towards Itachi being trapped in the politics of the village/clan. Fugaku is speaking to his own son but the discussion is so intense that he has to activate his Sharingan to convey the message to Itachi.

These are the flashbacks from the chapter #221 that further shed light on Itachi being a spy.

He's the "pipeline between the clan and the village" - a spy. Later Obito says Itachi was callously used for his devotion towards the village, this is an example of his clan doing this to him.

This is Itachi right after being accused of Shisui's murder. He looks in grief, while also processing the news. Once the narrative delves deep into Itachi's story (through Sasuke's eyes) in VOTE1, he continues to look miserable, lost, in pain, and in dire need of help. And once we begin to see more of him before his death, he is quite human. But again, Kishimoto had his whole story figured out by that time, knew what he was to do with Itachi's arc and Sasuke's future there.

In the chapter 224 (during the battle between Sasuke and Naruto), the flashback goes to this moment: Itachi tells Sasuke that he'd be one of the three people to awaken Mangekyo.

This connects to the chapter 385 when Sasuke vs Itachi happens. Sasuke asks him about the third person who had the MS.

_______________

Kishimoto isn't a terrible writer because some people choose to ignore what's written right there or cannot accept happened. Usually the deniers of this are those who question his morality. His morality is never the subject of the debate because Itachi isn't exonerated for his crimes. He's a part of a world that's cruel and violent and his actions align with it very much. The ones who "praise" him have their own bias, and that gives him nothing in return. Characters in fiction always, I mean, always respond to the information based on their morality. When Hashirama praises Itachi, it's because he grew up in the warring era and lost all his family. He learns there's this kid who chose a path with the least damage but at the cost of his life, he's a good Shinobi. Hiruzen also has his bias as well as his guilt. Naruto's praise for Itachi is not only because of stopping a war, but also for loving Sasuke. No one other than Sasuke sees him as a person whether anyone likes him or hates him. He's praised by other Shinobi for doing things that are expected from a Shinobi.

Either way, at the end of the day, Itachi himself doesn't see himself who is worth forgiving, worth loving, worth being remembered. That's his whole arc.

Some things above in the post I took from this thread. Some information I ommited from it, so feel free to go through it, please.

[mymreaderlibrary]

Hey buddy, gotta say, fucking LOVE your old man yaoi post with price and reader. It's also one of my favorite things and shit if you'd like could you write more about them? Like I need these two old men to finally own up and kiss damnit 😭

I wanted to get this out way earlier but ANYWAYS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT AAAAGHHGH I honestly wanted to write about it a lil more but I wasn’t sure. I hope this is good, no beta cause I’m a looney toons of a writer who’s stubborn as hell.

[old friends to lovers, slight angst, injury ment, laswell is so fuckin annoyed by being the only smart person, use of y/n though they’re kinda treated more like an oc sorry, the ramblings continue]

[length: 1324 words]

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They didn't speak of the night before, but they honestly didn't have to. Y/n and Price could tell their feelings were mutual, or at least stronger than a typical friendship, but instead they chose to be stopped by an invisible road block.

For y/n it was the feeling of lost time. They weren't young anymore, they didn't have the energy nor time for things like relationships and... well he wasn't sure if Price would want to be stuck with an old fart like himself. Price aged in a way that'd make any man jealous meanwhile y/n? Not so much. He was greying, his bones ached more often than not, he spent half of his time drinking shitty liquor that made his teeth reek, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's just not handsome anymore. Price deserved to be with someone who still had life to them. Maybe a spunky military gal who could keep him on his toes or private operative with an infinite list of missions to complete. What he didn't need, however, was someone who already had their chance and wasted it. Y/n should've told him just how much Price meant to him, how much he envied the people who got to stay by his side. He should've searched for him, got on his hands and knees and begged to come with. Convince whoever had them separated to change their mind. He didn't care if he still went through the same pain he did when he was alone, if he had to amputate his own damn leg again, or deal with the loss of his parents one more time. As long as he could've done it by Price's side he would've been happy or at the very least satisfied. But that was the past and the current y/n could never catch up to the man Price had become.

However for Price it was guilt. He remembered the days that y/n and him felt invincible. Like every little thing was just a stepping stone in their grand journey to glory. No matter the pain they persevered, found solutions where others would've given up, made names for themselves amongst crowds of soldiers all baring the same purpose. Too bad those names couldn't stop them from being split up, from losing their friends, their families, from being sent all across the world with no way of knowing if the other was even alive. Those names couldn't stop y/n from losing his entire calf... (Price hated that he only knew of his friends injury due a rumor involved with y/n's discharge). Y/n shouldn't even be here, his time in the military was over, he paid his penance, he should be at home watching tv on a leather couch with a beer in hand. Nothing on the mind but whatever sore loser couldn't figure out tonight's Jeopardy categories. But no, Price had to go and drag him out from retirement, right back onto the front lines. Straight back into trouble. Even if he wasn't on the field that didn't mean he was away from risk. His mere association with the 141 planted a target on his back that wouldn’t be removed by simply walking away. Price didn't feel he deserved y/n's affection not when all he ever did was put him in danger.

So they both stayed like that, infinitely stubborn, hellishly avoidant, and not nearly as sly as they thought. The 141 didn't have a full understanding of what was going on between the two, but they could tell there was some unfinished business. Gaz thought maybe one of them slighted the other and neither have taken the step to apologize for it. Soap thought y/n perhaps betrayed Price and that's why he's missing part of his leg. Ghost had... almost the right idea, thinking there was a strange tinge of romantic tension between the two though he assumed it was from something like a love triangle. Maybe y/n and Price loved the same woman and had some unfinished rivalry? Regardless, it was not his problem so much as it didn’t effect the mission.

Laswell however, she knew. She wouldn't have the position she did if information like this just flew past her radar. She knew of their history, she saw how they reacted to one another. Laswell wasn't blind for god's sake, in fact she felt like the only one with eyes at the moment. She wasn't so crass as to demand them to make up and get it over with, but having no one to complain to was definitely testing her patience. Instead she stuck to subtly, casually chatting with Price about y/n and dropping questions in regards to their past missions together and how close they were, hoping to make some wheels turn in his rusted head. She wasn't gonna do more than that however, they were two grown men and if they couldn’t figure it out that was their problem. Could they just be a little more subtle though?

It took until a, quite literally, explosive scenario for them to finally get it together. A bullet had gotten lodged into Price's shoulder after an enemy made a lucky shot. It was far from the worst thing the Captain had faced but it still wasn't great, hurt like a bitch for one. And secondly it seemed to send y/n into a spiral. He was practically fuming when Price got back, going on some sort of rant about hygiene and wound care. Y/n demanded to be the one to dress Price's shoulder with a tone that had the others knowing they were not invited to watch unless they wanted to join in on the incoming lecture. And lecture he did, through the whole process Price could barely get a word in. Y/n paced and raved, threw his arms in the air and even knocked over supplies on accident. He was a complete mess and it wasn't until y/n was literally out breath that the Captain could finally speak.

An explanation of what happened was given, it was just luck (bad luck in regards to Price) that he got hit. This wasn’t overly common and the team knew how to deal with these wounds. Everything was okay, it was going to be fine. This just came with the job, risks were inevitable.

They were quiet, looking at each other and letting the silence permeate the room. Price reached his hand out to touch y/n’s but was caught off guard as the other man suddenly leaned it. Knocking his head against Price’s good shoulder and breathing heavily, y/n shuddered a silent cry. A plead for Price to be safe. Whatever false version of safety he could promise, just please don’t die out there.

The Captain raised his outstretched hand to cup the back of y/n’s head, running a thumb over the stubbled hair. Letting his hand slide to his face and pushing him back just an inch.

Another moment of silence. Hearts beating like rabbits.

“You gonna actually do something or do I-“

Price shut him up as quickly as he could. It was clumsy, a bit shaky, and definitely desperate, but the moment their lips touched it felt like pure ecstatic relief. Relief that this was finally happening, relief that the invisible barrier they built around each other was so weak, but mostly relief that those moments, all those touches and lingering stares weren’t for nothing.

They breathed in each others scent, something they’ve come to know so well and yet in this moment it felt brand new, and infinitely stronger. The spice of a cigar, the sting of sweat, and- oh right, sterile wipes. Price was left to chuckle awkwardly and y/n backed away. Any childish excitement felt would have to wait but at the very least they had this.

[professorspork]

Hey, a little while ago, you reblogged that post about AI learning when people insert fics into AI text generators, and I wanted to offer good news and bad news: the good news is that AI learning models mostly don’t work like this. The publicly accessible text generator isn’t the whole learning model, it’s a single machine that the learning model generated. It won’t get fed directly back into the AI.

The BAD news is that there’s not really anything stopping them from saving that information separately to use later, and (much worse) anything that’s publicly available has probably already been scraped and saved. The good-in-this-context-but-depressing-overall news is that these models operate on the scale of billions of words, so, like. Idk. Individual fics ending up in a database mostly isn’t going to matter. That’s part of why the data-scraping isn’t something devs think about, ethically. This info is a paraphrase of another post I’ve seen going around saying the same thing, but I can personally corroborate it; before AI was a “crypto people hate when artists can earn a living” thing, I took some college courses on it and followed blogs about AI stuff for years. The last year or two of AI news has been really shitty :P It’s been really cool to me for a long time, but it is now clear that it’s even-more-vulnerable-than-usual to “capitalism uses every tool for oppression first” Knowing how it works is exhausting because anti-AI people are sometimes not all that much more accurate about how it actually works than the fervently pro-AI “I think chat-gpt is a person and human-generated art is dead” people, and then both of them skip talking about the more concrete problems like the “chat-gpt is propped up by slave labor” stuff.

I really appreciated this series of asks and wanted to make it available for all!

I think what we run into here is where like. A rhetorical device to invoke a sense of stakes and a bit of a guilt trip ("this is plagiarism because it feeds the AI" and its many permutations) can run up against misinformation (it's not literally becoming part of the AI's knowledge base, though as you noted it certainly COULD.) Because like

Where that post was coming from was someone being like "but why shouldn't I do this?" and the answerer resorting to "because it takes my work away from me" and this is still true in like, the rules of community and creativity if not necessarily in the hard lines of code. it's harder to articulate "this makes me uncomfortable because it's violated my ineffable sense of mutual belonging with and ownership of my own work, which I already felt on shaky ground on because it's fanwork but still FEEL with my WHOLE HEART" than it is to say "this concretely makes my words fuel for the machine" which I think people grok as a more sort of understandable breach of that social contract.

Which is why I like this post a lot because it gets at the WHY of why this is so perturbing and violating and isolating

Fandom was never meant to be a solo endeavor! when I write fic and put it out into the world, it's like echolocation. the words I put out are only half of what gives it shape and meaning to me-- the other half is the sound of it reverberating back to me as it bounces off the people it hits by way of comments, tags in reblogs, and DMs and they tell me their reactions and interpretations. that's what makes it a complete picture and not just screaming into the void.

to be removed from that process at all is a heartbreak to me; to have my words taken without my consent is insulting and misses the point and just. ultimately makes all of us that much more alone. which is to say that it's factually correct to say individual fics ending up in a database won't matter because it's probably already been scraped anyway because that's true for the AI and for the data. but individual fics DO matter insofar as like, these are choices people are making about what this hobby is and means and why they like it and what they think it's for and how they enjoy it, on a communal and social level, and THAT matters to me a great deal, in the same way that like, people now might end up getting videoed for a tiktok without their consent or whatever. it's about the erosion of privacy and respect.

but also yeah ChatGPT also runs thanks to exploited and underpaid workers, consumes horrific amounts of water in a time of increasing drought crisis and emits tons of carbon to boot.

[shieldfoss]

Keyboard shortcuts

The keyboard shortcuts in actual use are clearly historically contingent and path dependent - there are no standards, which means there are no ways to avoid conflict - even if you want to!

That is - unless you know every shortcut for the operating system you are compiling for and the operating system doesn't add more shortcuts and no third party programs are installed that were unaware of your presence.

EDIT:

Post got Long, it's under a readmore now so it won't clutter your dash

But please do read it if you have software opinions.

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Hardware thinks (shortcut) means A

Operating system thinks (shortcut) means B

Background service thinks (shortcut) means C

Browser thinks (shortcut) means D

Open browser tab thinks (shortcut) means E

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Hot garbage!

In the interest of avoiding conflicting commands it would be great if people could agree on some standards.

I feel like, with [super] and [ctrl] and [alt] and [shift] and [Esc] and [space] and [Fn] - it ought to be possible to do some deconflicting here!

Since the operating system is in control of the keyboard, it can impose those standards unilaterally - it would be chaos during the transition but the future would be much better.

Except no! Inherently impossible!

Because the user will - once again - install third party software and even if we get excellent deconfliction between layers, if you install two different background services that both did their due diligence and ensured that the operating system didn't use ctrl+shift+q+w+g - it is functionally impossible for them to know about each other

Still, I want to sketch something.

NB: I've never used a Mac, maybe Steve Apple solved all of this decades ago for his platform, it seems like the kind of thing he would do. I'm gonna write like he didn't though.

The domain

I'm seeing two ways users interact with software - background/foreground - and two types of software they're interacting with - hosts and clients.

The terms are necessarily underspecified but think along the lines of

Background/Foreground

Is this shortcut supposed to consistently do the same thing every time I use it (for the OS or some background service) or might it do different things depending on which app I currently have focused?

This is muddled by the fact that the background modes have active modes e.g. if you have Nvidia Shadowplay running in the background, listening for input that tells it to turn on or off, you probably also have an Nvidia Shadowplay app that you can actively focus on.

In that case, the software is simply counted twice - it has a persistent background component and a separate component that might or might not be focused.

Host/Client

The difference between Host and Client is essentially whether the developer is responsible for intermediating with third party software. This is obviously recursive[1], I am going to pretend it isn't though.

Hardware

To the extent that your hardware sends messages to your operating system, those can be ignored for the purpose of this diagram. To the extent that your operating system sends messages to your hardware, the hardware can be treated like a persistent background service.

Scenario

You are writing code in an IDE.

Four pieces of software have five different uses for the key "e"

Your OS wants E to mean "Open default Email client."

Your Emoji Picker background service wants E to open the "Pick Emoji" dialog.

Your IDE is currently in focus and wants E to open the Project Explorer pane.

Your IDE has a plugin that format your current tab according to your Editorconfig file.

And finally: You just plain need the letter "e" in your source code.

Today: Any fucking thing might happen depending on how those different apps and plugins have their hotkeys set up.

But let us consider:

[super]+[e] opens the email client.

[super]+[shift]+[e] opens the emoji picker

[ctrl]+[e] opens the Project Explorer pane

[ctrl]+[shift]+[e] formats according the editorconfig

[e] inserts the letter "e" into the source code.

Enforcement between OS, Third party service and active client.

How do you prevent the emoji picker from squatting on [ctrl]+[shift]+[e] and fucking it all up? Especially if it is written by a third party who didn't get the memo?

Easy.

If you press [ctrl]+[shift]+[e] the emoji plugin never sees it. When the emoji picker event loop asks for new events, those WM_KEYDOWN events aren't on the list.

"How?"

From the perspective of the OS, there are three groups of software that may need to know about key events

First party background software (The OS and OS services)

Third party background software (like the Emoji picker)

Active focused client software (First or third party)

When you input a key sequence:

The OS reads through the keys:

If [super] is present, check for [shift]

If [shift] is present in the key sequence, the key events go into the Third Party pool. On receiving them, the Emoji Picker opens the Emoji dialog.

Else only [super] is present in the key sequence: The key events go into the OS private pool, where they are made available only to first party background services. The "default email" hook fires.

Else [super] is not present in the sequence: The key events go into the "focused client" pool, which is made available only to the single, currently active, focused client. They are read by the IDE.

Enforcement within active client

Write it correctly lmao

But it is just recursively the same problem! Please do the same thing!

When the IDE reads the key events out of the OS, it checks for the presence of [ctrl]

If [ctrl] is present, check for [shift].

If [shift] is present in the sequence, the key events go into the plugin pool. Upon receiving them, the formatter activates

Else only [ctrl] is present. The key event goes into the IDE's private pool. The IDE opens the Project Explorer pane.

Else [ctrl] is not present in this key sequence. The key events go into the active editor tab which inserts a single 'e' in the current file.

---

Expanding the shortcut configuration space

"What about [alt]?" Is that button just irrelevant? [Esc]? [Fn]?

Nah, nah. You can do a bunch with all of them. They're fundamentally the same as the shift key here. Maybe the OS reserves for itself the space of all shortcuts like [super]+[letter/number] and [super]+[alt]+[letter/number], and every other shortcut that starts with [super] is available for third party background services. Maybe clients that support plugins (browsers that support sending key events into websites) reserve [ctrl] only and everything else is fair game. However it shakes out.

Really, this is too strict, too. The purpose of the exercise is not to hobble third party background services or third party plugins, it is more to reserve a space to ensure various things don't conflict. Insofar as it can be done without leading to conflicts, you can be much more lax than this.

The two issues that brought this on are both VSCode related, because VSCode has two shortcuts.

Well, it has a lot of shortcuts. But it has two specific shortcuts that I want to talk about: [ctrl]+[b] and [ctrl]+[shift]+[e].

In the Linux keymap (VSCode has three separate keymaps for windows/linux/mac) [ctrl]+[b] opens the side pane, and [ctrl]+[shift]+[e] opens the project explorer window.

Except not for me they don't.

I am writing this text in markdown, and I have a markdown plugin installed. Somewhat reasonably, the markdown plugin feels [ctrl]+[b] should bold the selected text (that is, insert ** on both sides of the text.) And VSCode gives priority to the plugin - when my active editing pane is on a markdown document, I cannot open/close the side pane.

And the fucking IBUS emoji picker is squatting on [ctrl]+[shift]+[e]. Across the whole OS! "Yeah no matter what you're doing, you're probably gonna need emoji so we're taking first claim on incredibly ergonomic real estate for an incredibly niche use case" who the fuck accepted that pull request into my distro?

And, like, is Microsoft going to change the default key bindings for VSCode on Linux because of that insane decision? No of course not.

Are they going to change their idiocy - just to stop inconveniencing Microsoft users? Yeah that is not how I am modeling the situation unfolding I must admit.

That sucks! Shit sucks! And the only good solution is for the OS to say "We are laying absolute claim to (this namespace) for OS and background services and we are giving third parties absolute claim to (that namespace).

Which they're not gonna do but I can waste a day writing about the perfect world I want to live in.

---

[1] "My Mac hosts a VM running Linux hosting a VM running Windows running an open Browser with a tab with an open webapp with a user plugin."

[delphi-shield]

For your wip tag game:

I would love to know more about "Moving Forward" and "America's Suitehearts" pretty please? 🥹

OH THANK YOU FOR ASKING oh man, oh man this is exciting! i'm so sorry, i got so carried away. i had too many thoughts when i went back to skim these wips lmfao. i'm putting this under a cut that's how bad it is.

Moving Forward is a one shot and maybe the stupidest fic I've ever written. idk i like thinking about the transition periods between all the different leon's we get to see, and i was thinking about infinite darkness through re6 leon and his relationship with adam benford. i know a lot of people decry their friendship as character assassination but i genuinely have never thought that it was out of character. by re6 (and arguably infinite darkness, though he's still kinda finding his footing there) leon has resigned himself to operating in a broken, fucked-up system. he's able at this point to recognize the people around him who are trying to do good and trying to work within the same system to get shit done. leon is not and never has been a leader, he's consistently happy to hand over authority to a more established, senior power. he does not spearhead change. he'll hold his ground and speak up if something violates his personal code of ethics/morals but he is absolutely not reforming anything by himself, he is way too happy to fall in line and play good little soldier and by that point in his life he's recognized that about himself and he's playing to his strengths.

anyway only like half of that is relevant. the fic deals with leon's servitude and his attitude towards his work a little bit, but it's mostly a fluff piece in which leon takes the reader to have dinner with his friend. he neglects to inform them beforehand that his friend is president-elect adam benford. insert hi-jinks. here's where the fic gets its name!

The house is a two-story colonial, fresh paint, a manicured lawn with a BENFORD 2012 sign stuck in the front yard still.  It screams money.  “Always thought that was kinda tacky,” you tell Leon. “‘Moving Forward’ - like, yeah, I hope so. It doesn't even rhyme with Benford.” “It's a slant rhyme.” “Why do you even know what a slant rhyme is?”

America's Suitehearts on the other hand is basically me shoving all my Ashley headcanons into a fic and making everyone deal with that!! Post-re4, poly leshley/reader, extremely inaccurate portrayals of how the secret service operate with adult children of sitting US presidents because i'm struggling to research it. reader is a big lonely loser in this fic and they're really fun to write. part 1 is very office romance, slice of life-y, part 2 is established relationship, sort of navigating the awkwardness of the early stages of a relationship.

perfume and cologne also play a really big part in this fic. i think it started as a way to practice writing smells and then it very quickly just became 'okay but ashley would smell good though, she'd probably like gourmand scents'.

“I think it smells better on you,” you say, offering her a sheepish little grin over top the cubicle. You hand her the perfume back, catching the pout of her lips and the furrow of her brow when she looks up. Her fingers brush yours. Warm and soft, yet they still send a chill through your body. “That can’t be right,” she declares. She stands up, leaning over the low wall separating your desks, gesturing for your arm. You give it to her without a second thought. Her hands cradle your forearm. Her nose presses to your wrist. You’re grateful for the empty office. If she wanted to open her mouth and sink her teeth into your skin, you would let her just to feel her tongue laving at your skin, to have her teeth leave impressions in your skin like a flower pressed between pages. Jesus, what a weird thought. You’re going to have to unpack that later. Maybe find a date or something. Fuck, you’re lonely.

[mrsleestranger]

AO3 is down for maintainance so I leave chapter 25 of my fic here and will delete later.

CHAPTER 25: The game is fun!

There were some situations that once encountered, one could not help but constantly think about them, unable to stop. After the encounter with the great hiba arborvitae tree and the incredibly magical change in attitude, Kanon fell into contemplation. Although she didn't fully understand the power within her, her intuition told her that it was closely related to every event she had experienced. That hiba arborvitae tree was the key point repeatedly mentioned in the final part of the anime when Nokoru had to confront the destructive schemes of Idomu, his childhood friend whom Nokoru had no recollection of.

Although Yudaiji Idomu did exist in this world, everything related to him seemed utterly illogical. How could someone like Imonoyama Nokoru forget such a joyful and precious time with his friend? What exactly had happened? Could it be that using the fact that Idomu was not a character in the main storyline as a reason?

With these thoughts, her mind exhausted, Kanon slumped onto the desk, exhaling heavily. Writing ten volumes of a story would be less tiring than trying to connect the illogical elements in this narrative.

Noticing Kanon's unusual emotions since leaving that area, Seiji took the initiative to ask,

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing... I'm just trying to connect some things together, but the more I think, the more it feels like a dead end. By the way, do you know anyone who is good with computer technology, senpai? I need to look up some things."

Before Seiji could speak, Setsu beside him burst into laughter.

"Ha ha ha, don't you know that my cousin has a hobby of researching computers and high-tech gadgets? Whenever he has some free time, he locks himself in a room, disassembling and reassembling things. If someone didn't know, they would think he's a neet."

"Hehhh? Is that true? Why didn't you say earlier?"

Kanon was amazed. Seiji was truly a genius, capable of anything, but this would be so convenient for her.

"It's nothing, just a little hobby when I have free time," Seiji modestly replied, causing Setsu to pout beside him.

So Kanon asked Seiji to set up a firewall for her computer and another firewall for her email account, but it didn't need to be too difficult to break, just enough for her to know if there was an intrusion. At the same time, they investigated whether there had been any previous intrusions. Kanon suspected that the Kindergarten cultural fair incident was not as simple as it seemed. According to Seiji, the electronic network and internet of Clamp School were completely independent and separate from the outside. So even if a hacker was skilled, they would have to operate within the Clamp network, otherwise, it would be like two parallel lines that could never intersect, let alone infiltrate. Kanon furrowed her brows, that's right, otherwise a computer genius like Yudaiji Idomu wouldn't bother going all the way to Clamp for revenge. But it would still be a while before he appeared. Kanon furrowed her brows even tighter, thinking that there might be another possibility.

"Senpai, if one person is inside Clamp and another person is outside Clamp, can they cooperate to infiltrate?"

Seiji pondered for a while before responding,

"It's not impossible, although it’s very difficult. It depends a lot on the hacker's skills. If someone inside connects the network with an outside hacker, it's highly possible, but the network security of Clamp School is extremely strict, so it won't be easy to bypass."

Kanon laughed, thinking that it might be possible. In this world, what was not lacking were geniuses. While she was contemplating, she heard Seiji hesitantly ask,

“If you have such doubts, why not talk to Imonoyama Kaichou? I believe that with his abilities, he can investigate it immediately."

Seiji waited for a moment but didn't receive a response from Kanon. Instead, he heard a soft sigh and turned to look at her suspiciously, only to find her looking at him with a strange smile before saying,

"Do you think someone like Imonoyama Nokoru would overlook such a serious matter?"

“You mean… he knew? But why is there no action? At first glance, it seems like he doesn't care about this anymore.”

“Who knows, if I understood his twisted mind, I would be twisted too.”

Kanon sighed at the question from her bodyguard. Sometimes, simple and understandable things become complicated when explaining them to others.

Imonoyama Nokoru didn't just suddenly disappear for a week because he was embarrassed about not keeping his word. That would never happen. There was only one answer: Nokoru knew that she, more than anyone else, was aware that the warning information had been delivered right to the university's doorstep. Yet, despite the precautions, something bad still happened, indicating the presence of a saboteur certainly. If she delved deeper into investigating the cause, Nokoru feared that everyone would worry. Suoh, who was already concerned about Nagisa, would have even more to worry about. Akira and Utako were in the process of getting to know each other, and Nokoru was afraid that she would be in danger. The more she knew, the worse it would be. Everyone understood this principle. Nokoru's avoidance was just a diversion tactic, to ensure that no one, including her, would pay any further attention to this unfortunate incident.

Kanon returned to the Student Council room at the end of the day. Suoh and Akira were probably out delivering documents, so only the handsome and elegant Student Council President remained, suffering and frowning while holding a pile of neglected high-priority files, reading and stamping them at the same time.

"Kaichou! You are really hardworking today." Kanon greeted.

Kanon swore that she had no intention of mocking someone else's pain like she was doing now. Really.

Seeing Kanon enter the room, Nokoru didn't stop his hands, but he raised his head, wearing a distressed expression, and whispered,

"Is that you, Kanon-chan?"

Kanon was certain that Nokoru must have felt a great sense of guilt to be able to sit calmly without Suoh being present like that. She returned to her desk and prepared some documents for the next day, then opened her bag to take out a box of chestnut candies that her mother, Mrs. Hanazaki, had made the day before. Kanon stood up and went to make tea. Kanon's tea-making skills were quite good, although not as exquisite as Akira's, it was enough to make the person drinking it feel refreshed. Kanon brewed enough for four people, poured a cup, added a few candies to a plate, and placed it on a tray to bring it to Nokoru.

"Kaichou, take a break for a moment and enjoy the sweet candy. My mother specially made them from chestnuts last time," Kanon said.

Nokoru looked at the tray of tea and candies that Kanon brought up, his eyes welled up with tears. He was deeply touched by her words and immediately put aside his stamp, taking a candy and putting it in his mouth. The sweet taste of the candy and the fragrant aroma of the chestnuts blended harmoniously, making Nokoru's mood become extremely relaxed. He praised,

"Mrs. Hanazaki is truly amazing. Akira always talks about coming to your house to learn some dessert recipes from your mother."

"Haha, there's nothing in our house except for desserts. My mother's passion is spoiling me," Kanon replied.

While speaking, Kanon turned back to the tea table, placed the box of candies on it, poured herself a cup of tea, took a few candies, and casually covered the heat-preserving lid to keep the tea warm. But she didn't immediately return to her own desk. She stood there, watching Nokoru chewing the candy and reading the documents. It was hard to imagine a 12-year-old boy, who was playful and had a wrinkled face when working, could have such bright eyes when eating delicious candy, and yet had to face so many things alone just to protect his friends. Kanon sighed silently, it was indeed a fate.

Kanon stood there until Nokoru looked up and their eyes met. He was surprised for a moment. Today, Kanon's behavior seemed a bit unusual. Thinking so, he smiled gently and asked her,

"Is there something, Kanon-chan? You seem like you want to say something."

"There's nothing, please continue your work," Kanon replied.

Kanon decided to remain silent, as it was not her concern. She had a lot of work to do. She lifted her tea cup and took a sip before returning to her desk. She opened her computer, not to work for the student council, but for her personal projects. There had been a backlog of documents on the president's desk for a week, so except for him, no one seems to be busy. Kanon had already completed her tasks for the day since morning, and now she was just waiting for the president to finish reviewing and stamping them so she could deliver them.

Lately, creative ideas had been flooding Kanon's mind. She didn't want to miss out on any of them, so she made use of every available time to jot them down, even outlining entire plots and storylines. She didn't intend to become so busy, but she had never felt such a strong desire to dedicate herself wholeheartedly to something she loved, not to mention the nagging feeling that if she missed this opportunity, there might not be another one.

Kanon quickly finished the last chapter of "The Red-Haired Princess," an idea she had come up with the previous week. Tomorrow morning, she had to meet with Manami to discuss the illustrations, and then meet with the editor from the literary magazine to design the book. Perhaps due to her intense focus, Kanon was unaware that someone was approaching her.

After finishing his candy and tea, Nokoru didn't immediately return to work. Since Suoh hadn't come back yet, he stood up and stretched, his eyes involuntarily glancing at Kanon's desk. Kanon's desk was placed near Suoh's for the convenience of her assistant duties, so Nokoru could easily see what she was doing just by looking up from his own desk. He was quite curious, as Kanon always efficiently and promptly handled her tasks for the student council. Yet, at this moment, he saw her deeply engrossed in her work. Intrigued, he quietly walked behind her. The computer screen displayed multiple text files, indicating that she was simultaneously writing different things. She was currently finishing a chapter, then jumping to another file to write something else before returning again.

Sometimes Nokoru wondered why Kanon was so busy. She was no longer an anonymous author; her works were sought after by magazines and publishers nationwide, even internationally. Yet Kanon never fell behind schedule, which greatly impressed Nokoru.

After finishing the last chapter, Kanon would quickly proofread it and send an email to the magazine's editor. As she closed a file and took a sigh of relief, she noticed a figure looming over her and her computer. She turned around and saw Nokoru's smiling face.

"Kaichou? What are you doing here?" Kanon asked.

Kanon glanced at the towering stack of documents behind his seat but that didn’t make him feel guilty at all. He still remained unfazed and even cheerfully admitted,

"I took a short break. The backlog was only half done, and Suoh hadn't returned yet."

Half done? Why did she feel the stack was still the same as before? And why was he only concerned about Suoh not being back yet?

"I've wondered why you were always so busy and in a rush," Nokoru suddenly asked.

"I just wanted to get things done. I felt like if I missed something, I wouldn't have time to come back to it," Kanon replied without much thought, still focused on the computer screen.

"But working with paperwork and computers all day wasn't good for your health. You should have taken some time to relax. Like me, for example."

Nokoru appeared genuinely and gave Kanon some advice. This time, Kanon truly stopped and turned, giving the Student Council President a skeptical look.

"I feel very healthy, exercise moderately, get enough sleep, and eat well. What else do you think I need to do?" Kanon replied, his eyes filled with suspicion.

Nokoru tilted his head in thought, then his eyes lit up. He playfully waved a fan with the words "Rule the World" on it and grinned mischievously.

"If you trust me, just leave it to me," he said.

Seeing Nokoru happily return to his desk, Kanon's inner voice screamed, "No, I don't trust you at all. Please leave me alone and let me live a peaceful life, please don't care about me, really."

The next day, before Kanon could even open the Student Council room, a gust of wind with blue hair rushed in, pushing the door open with a bang. The scene inside the room unfolded before her eyes, with Suoh and the piles of high-quality documents swaying back and forth, almost reaching the ceiling due to the impact of the door opening. Nokoru was sitting there, but instead of stamping documents as expected, he was reading a book. If Kanon wasn't mistaken, the title was "The Rules of Baseball."

"Oh my, Suoh, you startled me," Nokoru exclaimed.

"I was the one who was startled, Kaichou," Suoh replied.

With the increasingly uneasy feeling since yesterday, Kanon was about to approach Akira, who was brewing tea nearby, to ask what happenned when Suoh rushed up to Nokoru and questioned him.

"Kaichou, you promised before I returned..."

"Takamura-senpai, here's your tea," Akira interrupted.

Akira calmly served the tea, and Suoh sipped it while praising its taste. Then he turned back to continue questioning:

"You promised that when I returned, you would complete all these documents," Suoh said, slamming his hand on Nokoru's desk, causing the stacks of papers to shake and fall onto all three of them. Suoh quickly brushed the papers away and anxiously asked,

"Kaichou, are you okay?"

But seeing Nokoru still engrossed in his book, despite being covered in papers, left Suoh speechless. Just then, Akira perked up and excitedly exclaimed,

"Great! The cake is fine. Oh, Hanazaki is here, too. Come in and have tea and cake."

Upon hearing this, Nokoru happily looked up from his book and said,

"Kanon-chan, come in and choose the baseball team's uniforms."

Kanon stood rooted to the spot at the door, eyes wide and mouth agape. Oh my, how did she not realize that since yesterday, the Student Council President has been emphasizing the words "relaxation" with her? She had no intention of participating in this meaningless game, really. But plans don't always go as expected, as Suoh challenged Nokoru and Nokoru excitedly pulled her into the game.

"Kanon-chan, join my team! We'll play a great match and defeat Suoh,"

Kanon maintained a blank expression as she looked at Nokoru, who was displaying a team spirit with her, and spoke up,

"Can I choose Takamura-senpai's team?"

"Whattt?"

The whole room was surprised. It seemed like in the plot's setup, Suoh was supposed to face Nokoru's entire team alone, but she didn't like that. She wanted to quickly end this situation.

"Why do you suddenly want to play sports, Kaichou?"

Kanon hit Nokoru right at his weak point and asked, causing his limbs to stiffen but his mouth still smiled as he spoke:

"Oh, well, I suddenly find sports quite interesting."

"Suddenly? So you're just playing for fun, right? In that case, winning or losing doesn't matter, anyone can join any team, right?"

Kanon expressed a very clear viewpoint, 'I'm sure you'll lose.' Nokoru frowned, this girl always managed to pinpoint the crux of the matter, but the more she did, the more he had to bring her to his team. Thus, the Student Council room was once again flooded with Nokoru's crocodile tears. Finally, the charismatic Student Council President came up with a very legitimate reason to recruit Kanon into his team:

"Don't you find it weird, Kanon-chan? Ohkawa Kaichou and Miss Nagisa are also on my team. If you join Suoh's team, how will you explain with Miss Nagisa?"

‘Hey, are you threatening me? Your point is that if I'm on Suoh's team, Nagisa will think this and that, right? That's quite cunning, but well, you win.’ Kanon thought and acceptef her defeat.

"Alright, I agree to join your team, but then Ichikawa senpai should join Takamura senpai’s team, no more negotiation. Do you want to be forever known as someone who bullies the weak?"

Kanon demanded fairness for Suoh, making it impossible for Nokoru to refuse.

"Hanazaki, you don't have to do this, I can play alone. After all, I challenged him first."

Suoh didn’t care about those problems, he was ready to play an unfair match in terms of numbers with his friends just to make Nokoru do the work. Kanon strongly objected, and as a result, the most peculiar duo of the year, Takamura Suoh and Ichikawa Seiji, teamed up to compete against Imonoyama Nokoru Kaichou, Kanon, and the Kindergarten Student Council, with Akira as the catcher for both sides.

During the training period, Nokoru pushed everyone quite hard, unlike the "playing for fun" mindset that Kanon imposed on him. Seeing everyone training so hard, Kanon reluctantly spent some time training with them. After all, she didn't really want to play, but she felt guilty if she didn't train with everyone, as it would be irresponsible.

Throughout the training process, Kanon only saw Nokoru standing there, waving his fan and giving instructions without breaking a sweat. But his instructions were incredibly accurate. Kanon marveled at his precision and thought to herself, ‘What a weirdo!’

"Kanon-chan, try hitting this ball!"

Nokoru noticed Kanon staring at him and smiled, making a request.

Kanon gave him a side-eye but didn't refuse. Yesterday, when she had brought a towel for Seiji, she had seen Nagisa bringing a towel for Suoh, who then had been taught by Suoh how to hold and swing the bat effectively. Oh, they were so adorable! Nagisa had been blushed just by small touching Suoh’s hand.

She looked over at her poker faced bodyguard and thought ‘You had already lost from the inside out, senpai. Your rival already has a girlfriend.’ Seiji responded to her disdainful gaze by making her swing the bat dozens of times, causing her hands to still hurt today. So now she was confident that she could swing the bat correctly and hit at least 1 out of 10 balls.

"Here comes the ball, Kanon-chan!"

Hearing Nokoru's call, Kanon focused and raised the bat.

POONG!

A crisp sound echoed.

"HOMERUN!"

Upon hearing Nokoru's joyful shout, Kanon thought she misheard. What? A homerun? That kind of hit that only professional players rarely achieve? But before she could gather her thoughts, Kanon heard Nokoru shout again:

"Next ball, Kanon-chan!"

Another homerun, and it continued, one after another. Everyone's eyes widened in astonishment. Kanon-sensei was so skilled?

At the end of that training session, Kanon received admiring glances from the kindergarten kids, filling her with a sense of pride.

"You are my secret weapon, Kanon-chan!" exclaimed the weird Kaichou, placing his hands on her shoulders to encourage her. Kanon truly felt like banging her head against the wall. What on earth was happening?

The whole match felt like a joke. Nokoru stood with his arms crossed, directing from the field while Suoh and Seiji cooperated exceptionally well, running back and forth. Somehow, the score remained tied. Kanon was left gaping in amazement.

In the middle of the game, a romantic incident unfolded. After hitting the ball, Nagisa accidentally fell, and Suoh, without bothering to catch the ball, rushed to help her up. They looked at each other shyly. Kanon glanced at the other side, where Seiji stood patiently waiting for Suoh to finish, showing no signs of annoyance or impatience. Then she looked to the side, where Nokoru was casually chatting with everyone, waiting happily for the game to continue. It seemed that this match was not meaningless at all. It helped everyone understand each other better and become more united.

"Kanon-chan, it's your turn to hit the ball!"

And it was Seiji who pitched the ball. Suddenly, standing face to face like this, Kanon felt an overwhelming excitement. It turned out playing this game wasn't so bad after all. It turned out this was the feeling Nokoru had. ‘Well then, bring it on, senpai!’ Kanon signaled to Seiji with her eyes, and Seiji lowered himself, preparing to pitch. Under the brim of his baseball cap, his half-smile filled with enthusiasm was hidden, only he knew his true emotions.

A strong, accurate, and fast pitch flew past Kanon's face before she could even prepare herself mentally.

"Excellent, senpai!"

But it didn't matter. Kanon felt even more challenged.

"Come on!"

She shouted, making Nokoru smile from outside the baseline. Everyone's happiness was a good sign.

Another missed hit by Kanon, but this time she lowered her body, preparing for the final swing. Her eyes focused on Seiji across from her. Seiji adjusted his cap and his feet firmly planted on the ground as he leaned forward to pitch.

POONG!

HOMERUN!

The entire stadium erupted in cheers! After Suoh's homerun, thanks to Kanon, the two teams were now tied.

Kanon stood up straight, straightening her tired back, and saw her usually cold-faced bodyguard with a rare smile, giving her a thumbs up. She smiled back, radiating pure joy.

However, the result couldn't be changed. In the final round, Nokoru faced Suoh and was defeated miserably. But that didn't matter. Nokoru hit the ball straight into Suoh's glove. Kanon smiled as she watched the two of them shake hands. She had a feeling that Nokoru had given it his all and was extremely satisfied. But there was also a conflicting feeling that Nokoru did it intentionally, as a friendly gesture towards Suoh. Whether intentional or not, Kanon had to admit, today's game was really fun!

In a corner of the stands, a handsome and clean-cut face typical of a Clamp student but his eyes were filled with annoyance and anger that was looking at the cheering crowd in the stadium when Nokoru shook hands with Suoh. Then, he turned around and left, not forgetting to leave behind a disdainful remark:

"A bunch of idle troublemakers!"

Kanon caught a glimpse of that unfriendly and negative gaze, and looked up to the corner of the stands where the boy had been standing earlier, but there was no one there anymore. Seiji noticed Kanon's unusual behavior and approached her, asking:

"What's wrong, Lady?"

"I feel like someone was just looking at us, with a very negative and unpleasant feeling."

Seiji followed Kanon's gaze, but there was no one there. However, he believed her. It seemed that peace wouldn't last for long.

[folxlorepod]

The Real Horror: let's talk money.

Since Folxlore is publicly funded, we wanted to give an insight into our budget, which hopefully might help other audio drama creators out! To get Folxlore funded we go through the difficult and time-consuming process of requesting funding from Creative Scotland, the Scottish government body for public arts funding. We’re very lucky Scotland has an arts funding body, but the process of obtaining funding is competitive and takes a lot of effort. The success rate is about 42%, and we’ve gotten CS funding twice for Folxlore, which I think is a pretty damn good feat!

Part of being CS funded means that everyone needs to get paid fairly, so we pay industry rates for all our workers, while taking into account that our industry is indie podcasts, and not professional podcast.

Interlude: are we indie? Folxlore is publicly funded, we don’t belong to a network, and the show isn’t produced by a big team. We’re 4 people, we self-produce, and our sound designer Dev from Tin Can Audio distributes the show. We pretty comfortably put ourself in the independent category, but some people may feel the amount of funding we get means we’re not. Decide for yourself!

The amount of funding Folxlore gets is publicly available. For our pilot episodes, we received £800 pounds from Young Scot (we were still young back in 2018!). This we split equally between the four of us. Ross, Syd and I got £200 for writing and recording 3 episodes, and Dev got £200 for sound designing the 3 episodes. These are in no way realistic fees, but again, we were young and new to the thing and excited we got to do this new project we’d been thinking about for a while!

Then for Season 1, we received our first proper funding. Season 1 Total Budget: £14,538 Season 1 Funding Received: £12,479

Writers fees - £8,160 We paid our writer team £1,020 per episode, which was the going BBC rate for 11-19 minute radio plays. 

Sound engineer fees - £1,600 We agreed beforehand on a fee with our sound designer Dev. They were not yet a full-time sound designer at the time, but despite this, in retrospect, I think we should have budgeted more here!

Producer fees - £966 Producing the show took approximately 8 weeks of work between two people, so this is another area where we underpaid ourselves.

Voice actor fees - £450 Our biggest oversight and biggest mistake in the creation of Season 1 was our VA budget, which was pretty much nonexistent. For the pilot series, our writers had acted as voice actors without additional pay, and so when it came to Season 1, we operated on the same model. This was not fair to our writers, as they should have been paid separately and fairly for both their writing and their performance skills (for clarity, all three are experienced in both). 

We did pay the 2 VA’s who weren’t part of the writers team, from our contingency budget.

Contingency budget - £1,322 Vital to any project! We had a 10% contingency. We ended up paying some VA fees from this, as well as some marketing costs.

The rest of our budget included marketing and equipment purchase & hire, some of which were in-kind match funding from Tin Can Audio and In The Works.

For season 2, we spent a good while rethinking our season 1 budget, and requested an increased amount of funding to reflect fair working practices. Season 2 Total budget: £27,819 Season 2 Funding Received: £22,489

Writer’s fees - £8,408 We stuck with the same writer’s fee, although with inflation this was now £1051 per episode. We initially aimed for 8 episodes, but ended up making 9, so we split the total fee 9-ways after agreement from the whole writers team. 

Sound engineer fees - £2,280 We also significantly increased our sound design fee to £285 per episode, to reflect Dev now being a professional full-time sound designer. They have since increased their fee, to be more in line with professional standards. 

Producer fees - £2,470 We upped our producer budget from 2 weeks to 5 weeks, which is still not quite enough, but covers us a lot more. The going weekly rate by ITC standards was £494 per week at the time.

Voice actor fees - £3,300 Our biggest change from season 1 was our VA budget. We had a total budget of £3300 for VA roles. We split this up in lead roles (£200), small roles (£100), and minor roles (£50). These were based on line-count, but also emotional intensity of the role. We roughly planned for 10 lead roles, 10 small roles, and 6 minor roles, which is about what we ended up with. Because all VAs in Folxlore do more than one role across the season, everyone received a rounded out fee based on their roles. 

Marketing budget - £1,410 Our marketing budget increased significantly as well: we included more time to develop a marketing plan, more intricate marketing ideas, and more time to implement the plan under our producing fees. 

Contingency: £1,205 Because we’d done this before, we could decrease our contingency budget from 10% to 5% of the overall budget.

Access budget - £2530 Another big change from season 1 is that we had a designated access budget. This budget includes the creation of episode transcripts, 1 paid day off for our core team (most of us are full-time freelancers, so this was a rare treat and something we consider vital to a healthy work/life balance), a day of work for an access coordinator for the writing & recording sessions (me), and budget for any other access needs that might come up during the recording or writing such as travel, equipment, caring responsibilities, and any access needs that were yet to be determined for our hired VA’s.

In-kind funding - £5,330 Like with season 1, we had in-kind funding for this season amounting to nearly 20% of our total budget.

There were some additional budget lines for season 2 that we haven't discussed, as they are for parts of the project we haven't announced yet.

Keep in mind all these numbers are straight from the budget we applied to Creative Scotland with: things will always change during the course of a project and they certainly have for us. Also keep in mind this budget is in pounds!

We hope that was helpful for (prospective) podcast producers out there! We're always happy to talk through how to get public funding within the UK, as that's what we're familiar with: our DMs are open!

[golmac]

Inform Basics: practice with tables

Tables can be intimidating, but they are great for handling complex situations with text. Since writing and printing text is my whole jam, I've pushed myself to use tables as much as possible. My first ever table turned out to be the central tracking system for magic in Repeat the Ending!

I think I had some beginner's luck there--I never needed to change/fix it later. We'll use it as a model for the next few posts. I've made a couple of things nicer for this discussion, but the core functionality is unchanged.

Let's Make a Table!

A table, as a lot of you probably know, is a way to store and present information. It is a grid organized by rows and columns. If you've ever seen a spreadsheet program like Excel, you can visualize the way rows and columns can be used to arrange information sensibly.

In Inform 7, a table has very specific formatting conventions that must be followed:

It begins with the text "table of [insert your title here]" alone on a single line of code.

On the very next line, the names of the columns must be typed and separated by a single press of the TAB key.

The next line(s) contain(s) data. Once again, columns are separated by the TAB key. Note that actual empty entries are not permitted. Instead, populate so-called "blank" fields with two hyphen characters (without quotation marks).

Here's an image of a very paired-back version of the table from RTE:

In some cases, we need to tell Inform 7 what a column of data is. More on this next time. For now, just be aware that I've got this in my code to explain what the first column, "siphontype," contains.

siphontype is a kind of value. the siphontypes are defined by the table of diagnoses.

There's no magic to any of these names. They're just what seemed right at the time.

Some simple applications

What can we do with it? Without getting up to anything fancy, we can count the rows. Inform 7 will count almost anything if you use the phrase "number of [almost anything with a numbered quantity]". I'll make a custom action, frobbing, for these experiments.

frobbing is an action applying to nothing. understand "frob" as frobbing. carry out frobbing: say "The number of rows in the table of diagnoses is [number of rows in the table of diagnoses]."

Output:

>frob The number of rows in the table of diagnoses is 3.

We can also dump the entire contents of the table. "Repeat through," which we've used on lists, can also be used to apply an operation/action/etc. to multiple rows in a table.

repeat through the table of diagnoses: say "[siphontype entry]: [diagstring entry]"

OK. Since "siphontype" and "diagstring" are column names, Inform 7 will walk through each row, printing the relevant entries.

What does that look like?

>frob The number of rows in the table of diagnoses is 3. TInert: At the moment, I am not empowered by any sort of entropic magic.TPsychic: [REDACTED]TLucky: Feeling lucky?

Yikes. That's pretty ugly. Let's get that text cleaned up.

carry out frobbing: say "[bold type]The number of rows in the table of diagnoses is [number of rows in the table of diagnoses].[roman type][paragraph break]"; repeat through the table of diagnoses: say "[siphontype entry]: [diagstring entry][line break]"

The main features here are bold text for the first line, a blank line between the bold text and the table dump, and line breaks after every printed row. It winds up looking like this:

The number of rows in the table of diagnoses is 3.

TInert: At the moment, I am not empowered by any sort of entropic magic. TPsychic: [REDACTED] TLucky: Feeling lucky?

I think that's enough for today! Next time, we'll dig deeper into tables, using the same bit from RTE as an example. As always, feel free to AMA

Code used in this post:

[oneefin]

alright, so i posted these two feb. 1st crosswords:

these are admittedly not super accessible but they did have a specific idea behind them that i liked, so i'll describe their solve paths in the rest of this post. spoilers!

okay, so the gimmick of both of these crosswords involves making non-alphabetical symbols out of other ones. each one is communicated somehow by its presentation.

let's start with ONE H. when solving this, you'll quickly notice that everything is cut off horizontally - like the title, the grid, or the "across" - at exactly the halfway point. "down" is not halved, however.

here's a way to break in: you might wonder what "merid" means. it's not a word on its own, but could it be half of a word? in fact, there's a word it could be half of: "meridional", a word essentially meaning "southern". you may then notice that you could answer that clue with a single letter S.

it's not certain whether it's right, though, unless the down clue lines up. so imagine for a second writing "S" into this grid. but the grid is halved, so only the left half of the "S" would appear. something like:

now, the remainder of the "S" that is visible looks a lot like the subset symbol in math equations (⊆). and hey, that fits the down clue pretty well!

that's how the solution works: the across clue is half of a full clue, which you answer by writing half of the solution into the grid. the down clue, which is not halved, clues the halved symbol as a single symbol.

onto DOUBLEDOUBLE. when solving this, you'll notice almost immediately that some things, particularly the across clue, are stacked on each other in an overlapping way, and the single-celled grid is rectangular.

here's a way to break in: the other clues are a bit vague, but "canada come-before" is very specific and can be answered with a single letter O (as in "O Canada", the national anthem). "O" doesn't work for "analogies with, in a way", though.

given the stacked presentation, you might guess that you're trying to take an answer to the top clue and stack it with an answer to the bottom clue. in ONE H, the down clue referred to the symbol after it was processed - here, you might think the same thing is happening. so you need to find an answer that can go below "O" to make another symbol, where the two symbols match the two remaining clues.

if you do some symbol searching (perhaps by scanning your keyboard), you might find the one!

the solution is to use a proportionality symbol (∝), which answers the bottom across clue. when stacked underneath an "O", this becomes an ampersand (&), which fits the down clue ("&" is the bitwise and operator in computer science, where 1 & 1 evaluates to 1)

what i liked about these two ideas is that the symbol manipulations behind them are non-trivial - like in ONE H, the S gets split into two separate pieces after halving, while in DOUBLEDOUBLE, the full symbol is actually drawn by crossing the boundary of the two composed symbols, like this:

if you solved either of these, congratulations! 🎉 they certainly weren't easy.

[mentalisttraceur-software]

After trying Magit for a bit, I ended up doing my own simple+minimal thing for Git in Emacs, built on a generic function I wrote. The only piece I'm using from Magit is the with-editor package.

I wrote a function which pops open a buffer to run a command. The buffer is named after the full command. I can supply context which is added to the buffer name after the command, or override the name entirely. The buffer is created if it doesn't already exist. By "pops open", I meant the same way that for example the help buffer is popped open, with `pop-to-buffer` - I call it `pop-to-command`.

(I actually have two variants of the function - one runs the command in a raw terminal emulator buffer, and one runs it in an Eshell buffer with terminal emulation. Both use the Eat terminal emulator package. I use the Eshell+Eat variant for this, because it keeps my keybinds+UX more consistent+ergonomic, has TRAMP integration, and lets the with-editor package do its magic.)

(Because I'm using Evil for the greater efficiency+ergonomics of vi-style modal keybindings/UX, I wrap the base function to add a modal nicety: When the command starts, the buffer is put into vi "insert" state (or the "Emacs" state in the case of no-Eshell-just-Eat variant), so that I can interact directly with the command. When the command terminates, the buffer is automatically put into vi "normal" state, so that I automatically return to the keybinds I use for switching/manipulating Emacs buffers, windows, etc.)

I then have a wrapper function to run Git commands with that pop-to-command function, using the current buffer's Git repository as the context.

So let's say I'm editing a file inside a Git repo I have cloned at `~/code/my-cool-project`, I save some changes, and I'm ready to stage them. I hit a keybind, and Emacs pops a buffer named `*eshell: git add -p (~/code/my-cool-project)*`. Since it's running `git add -p`, I am just using the normal Git CLI to review and stage hunks. Same knowledge and muscle memory that works outside of Emacs. Same diff view as outside of Emacs, which would be worse than Magit but lets me reuse better-than-Magit diff improvements like git-delta and difftastic. In the very rare event that I need the granularity of the "e" action in `git add -p`, that opens in my current Emacs instance thanks to with-editor. (Naturally I also have keybinds for the "-p" versions of git checkout, git reset, and git stash.)

When I'm ready to commit, I hit another keybind, and Emacs pops a buffer named `*eshell: git commit (~/code/my-cool-project)*`. Thanks to with-editor, that immediately opens the commit message for editing in Emacs itself, in the same window. When I'm done editing, my normal "save and close" keybind makes the commit - I can also quit without saving to abort the commit. (I monkey-patched with-editor using Emacs' "advice" so that if I save and then quit as two separate Emacs commands, the change is still left saved in Git's COMMIT_EDITMSG file even though the commit isn't made, as would normally happen with any other editor.) Naturally, I have a separate keybind for `git commit -‍-amend`.

Magit automatically always shows the staged diff in a separate buffer while writing/amending a commit. I don't normally need that, but it's really nice to have when I do. I get this on-demand because I have two more keybinds: one for `*eshell: git diff (<current-repo>)*` and one for `*eshell: git diff -‍-staged (<current-repo>)*`. Or sometimes I just leave the `*eshell: git add -p (...)*` buffer open until I'm done commiting.

Of course I also have keybinds for other git commands that I regularly want: git log [-p], git reflog, git pull, git push [-‍-tags] [-‍-force], and so on. Anything I use often enough to get annoyed by the handful of keystrokes it takes me to open Eshell and execute that command from a fuzzy-find on my shell history. (The only Git operation I don't handle this way is blame - I use the built-in vc-annotate for that, configured to wrap lines instead of truncating. The indirection of Eshell-running-Git-running-a-pager doesn't bother me with diffs and logs, but it bothers me in blame due to the different patterns in reading/navigation/search/copying. Also the color-coding by age is nice, and the step-back-through-blame-history feature is one I find valuable when I have to do code archeology to figure out the cause or intent of code which doesn't make sense.)

I have a nice keybind for `quit-window` in these run-one-command buffers which doesn't make sense in normal Eat and Eshell buffers. (Because I'm using Evil, this nice keybind is the mere "q" in vi "normal" state, which overlaps wonderfully with the "q" that you get in the default `less` pager when doing `git log` and so on. So for example I just hit "q" once to quit the log command and once more to quit the window - so I keep the benefits of totally decoupled composition where these pieces don't have to understand/track/assume anything about each other, while still getting something so ergonomic and intuitive that I never notice any delays, mistakes, or cognitive load.)

For me this approach covers basically all the value that I would get from Magit, without any of the rare-but-annoying latencies that I sometimes hit with Magit (or common-and-annoying latencies that I always hit with Magit when using Emacs in Termux on my Android phones). I sorta, theoretically, very very very rarely, miss the ability to just put my cursor on a diff hunk and stage/unstage it with a key stroke, or drill down into the diff for just one commit when already looking at a log. But I basically don't miss it - because it would only save me a few seconds and a handful of keystrokes. I don't miss Magit automatically reusing the diff buffer for staged and unstaged diffs, making it impossible to see both side-by-side. I really don't miss Magit asking me to save the file every time I asked for a Git diff. So I gain some value this way too.

I have some desire to eventully put the pop-to-command functions into their own package on the Non-GNU ELPA, and maybe do the same with my minimal Git wrappers if there's demand.

[galkyrie]

I'm ambushing all my faves with the same 😁 19!

Aaah thank you this is so sweet!

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

I'm just gonna go with jaytim because it's my brand at this point but! I have this idea for a fic where Tim, after going through the plan to test where his line is re: Captain Boomerang arc in RR and Bruce's disapproval of him for it, decides that he doesn't need or want Bruce's approval. The man is running around the world testing the people who mourned him instead of letting their grieving stop so he can go fuck himself- Bruce is the disappointment and spent most of his time letting one of them down or trying to make up for doing so without actually acknowledging it.

From there it would go to Tim figuring our what he does want for himself, his dedication to the man shaken even if he believes in the cause.

This would evolve into Tim striking out on his own as a separate entity from the Bats and retiring RR. When he's finding out his own line and how he wants to define himself, he digs further into Bruce's "biggest disappointment" and how he operates.

Jason notices, because of course he does- he's not an amateur. It goes from hostile to threatening to "be my Robin" slowly, and by the time Jason's there tims like "no- stop being Red Hood and we'll be something new together"

I'd want to explore the idea of legacy as a shackle that they both find a way to escape with each other, two boys brought into the orbit of a self destructive and grieving man and used as a balm for his cracked pieces finding healing with the least likely source.

I don't know if it'd include a long and slow process of them reconciling with the rest of the Bats, but it would be possible! I like the idea of Bruce's biggest failure and his most loyal protege demanding change from him and accepting nothing less, whether or not this iteration of Bruce is capable or willing.

[neonscandal]

You're gonna carry that weight.

As a child, my grandmother taught my uncle to use his hands. To create, to draft, to add beauty where there was nothing. In fact, that legacy is something that lives through all of us who gather here to mourn him.

For anyone who met my grandfather, you’d know that, by osmosis, he clearly guided my uncle’s words. Too smooth for his own good for 70 straight years, it seemed. I suppose here it would be poetic to say that as a young man, the U.S. Army taught my uncle to hold a gun. But, they taught him a few other things too. I don’t know if there are any among us who don’t have a memory of my uncle, sat in front of a load of laundry precisely rolling his shirts, his socks, his underwear. His hospital corner bed sheets. Really, I think the military provided the perfect environment for his meticulous attention to detail, his cunning intellect. His service is something he continued to find pride in throughout the rest of his life.

He lived a full life between then and now but I believe those things to have been fundamental to the way in which he lived the rest of his life. Losing his mother as a teenager broke his religion. It broke his heart. I sometimes wonder if that’s why he spent the rest of his days surrounding himself with and needing the love and care from strong women. My uncle was a sensitive child that life taught to be guarded.

It felt like he lived with us more than he didn’t. But he was still complex and shrouded in mystery. Maybe it was because I was just a kid but I have no idea what he did for work. Writing his obituary there were the things I knew and those I did not and clearly you all don’t know what he did either. But one thing for certain and two things for sure, he was a full-time uncle. Having had the pleasure of sharing a roof with my sister and her family for a stretch, I like to think I’m a pretty cool aunt myself. But even though I’m their favorite (not a question, an observation), I don’t compare to him in the sense that… there’s no way I would have the patience to spend 6+ hours a day playing board games with my nieces and nephews. Let alone to teach them, cultivate strategy, develop their logic and intelligence in the same way that my uncle did for me.

My uncle taught me to play everything. Stratego (our favorite game), Spades (with the vigor of an Olympian coach, something shared with my cousin Tony), Tunk, Monopoly, Poker.. he made it a point to teach me how to think critically and how to bluff when I had nothing, and the education started young. I couldn’t have been older than 8. But I was also today years old in reconciling the fact that my uncle’s military occupation specialty was Infantry Operations and Intelligence. I was literally playing a war strategy game against a strategist for decades. I’m not going to say my uncle was always the smartest person in the room but he sure thought he was and I guess he made sure of it by beating up on little kids in board games.

Around the time that I started driving, my uncle no longer lived with us and it felt like something was missing. A piece of home was missing. Like sure, there were less mouths to feed and a shorter line for the shower but less smiles too. So I learned how to navigate driving on the highway, MapQuest directions and everything, and would make the 45 minute trek to see him until I no longer had to question what my exit was and what direction I needed to travel on 95. We’d still play Stratego and he’d still beat me! Even then. With his passing, I requested the Stratego set I just knew would be in his apartment and was dismayed that it wasn’t the same weathered box we’d always played with, held together by tape on one side where it had separated from the top of the box. Even now, I have such crisp memories of it. But not the memory of it being replaced by a “deluxe” set encased in wood. It’s possible I just don’t remember playing with this newer game but a sadder part of me still wondered if, as he grew older, he ran out of people to play games with.

Later in life, I became more aware of my uncle’s way with words. I mean, it’s only now that I really understand some of the expressions that he used regularly. As my sister Lauren compiled all of his countless catch phrases, we couldn’t help but realize that… this man talked like the Mad Hatter and we just LET him!? Even in consolidating all of them, it was funny to see how pervasive some of his catch phrases were. Was that something my uncle said or was it something my mom started? That’s how deeply entrenched these words were ingrained in us, even the silly ones.

“Who? Your feet don’t fit no limb,” was a clever (or a crazy man’s) way of saying “you’re not an owl, stop saying ‘who’”. I was informed of this at the repast but never once questioned it as a child or adult. That was just one of the silly things my joking uncle always said. But as he became more reliant on others, I really saw the way that he’d use his words to uplift others.

He was a gentleman, a lady killer even. But he’d just make it a point to be overly complimentary regardless of what someone looked like because he knew it could make a difference to that person. Sometimes, even in spite of their appearance. After drawing a smile for something he’d said, I remember he’d turned to me and just said “she looked strong, didn’t she?” What does that even mean?

Even so, he made it a point to always be cordial and kind to any kind of cashier, wait staff, customer service person, retail worker, etc. As someone who has done pretty much all those things, I can attest that, on a crappy day, coming across someone like my uncle could absolutely make your whole day. I sometimes find myself earnestly saying some of the same things he used to say like, “I don’t know what they pay you, but it’s not enough!”

It's not so bad, you know? Making someone smile in that moment. Being a brief spot in their day. We were fortunate to have so many days with uncle. So many laughs, so many smiles. Fortunate to have a Spades partner, a games master, a prankster. Fortunate to have someone guide our hands in executing the perfect bow or achieve hospital bed corners on a wrapped gift. But it doesn’t have to end.

As we all branch off into our own lives from this point of sadness, may we all be inspired by his spirit. Just as we can still hear his silly retorts and puns, we can espouse that same sense of mischief and fun. Let’s make sure we don’t go so long between playing games. Let’s practice his insistence of overly appreciating the gestures and kindness of strangers and see the smiles it brings.

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.