#it's just outside of certain scopes of imagination and experience

[secretgamergirl]

Do experience systems do more harm than good?

Earlier today I saw someone talking about the common wisdom that you can't make an RPG without SOME sort of system where after you finish a session (or maybe an adventure), the GM gives you some sort of points that, whether automatically or based on assigning them, makes your character better at doing stuff. Not only do I strongly disagree that that's something every game needs, I'd like to present the argument that even in games you'd have a hard time imagining without them, experience points might actually be doing more harm than good.

Before I even get into this, let's take apart the obvious perks to having experience systems:

1- It helps maintain longterm interest in keeping a campaign going when the players are getting some sort of regular reward.

This is true of certain campaigns, but I don't think I'd really ever want to be in one. In a good campaign, everyone involved should be having a fun time just hanging out with each other, putting themselves in the shoes of the characters, building up a story and a world together, and generating cool memorable scenes. That should be more than enough incentive to stick with a game, and if you don't have those things going on, you should really stop and work out what's going wrong, not try and pave over it by powering everyone's characters up. I don't need to boost some Watcher Score when I marathon through a good TV show or a movie, and I'm not even getting to influence how those unfold, you know?

This is also one of those many things where what we have today is sort of a twisted ghost of what was originally conceived back in the early days of D&D. I had an old project on this very blog where I was reading through the books for 1st edition AD&D with a critical eye, and a huge takeaway from that was that Gary Gygax seems like he was just the absolute worst kind of GM (also backed up by reading message board posts of his, and various accounts). Back in his day, leveling up wasn't the expected inevitable progression as a game went on necessarily. You'd roll your stats, with some harsh restrictions, be forced to play what you had, roll your HP too, and the game was just kind of inherently hostile to the PCs, so you had a good chance of dying in a given session. Not only that, but when you did, there was no real coming back from it, you make a new character, starting from scratch, with 0 experience, and see if you can keep this one alive long enough to get up there again.

And aside from the carrot of maybe getting one of those elite high level characters if you stuck with it, there was the stick of characters partying their gold away. Seriously, by AD&D 1e rules, characters would just kinda burn through... I want to say it was 100 GP per level per day. And not in-game day. Real life day. You'd better show up for every session, because a week from now, your character's going to have 700 less gold in their pocket whether you show up to play or not.

We don't really play that way anymore. At least nobody I know does. Leveling up is planned out in advance by GMs, characters level up at the same time as everyone else even when the player misses a session, and if you need to make a new character or you're just joining the game late, obviously you come in at the same level as everyone else. I don't even want to dignify the arguments against doing that with discussion. It's even common for people to start games at levels other than 1 because people just don't like low-level play.

And you know, this is way outside the scope of what I was sitting down to write, but I've gotten into the jobification of video games before, right? Where people keep doing stuff like daily login rewards and weekly challenges just so there's a sense of obligation to log into games every day? That crap doesn't actually make things more FUN, it's in there to keep players compelled to play regardless of how much fun they have, and that's... literally the argument behind experience as an incentive to keep a game running.

2- It good when number go up!

Funnily enough, this is the hardest one for me to refute. There is some basic direct release of the good brain chemicals when you have numbers, and they go up. And I mean... sure, but in a tabletop game you're not generally seeing a number climb on its own, you're getting points thrown at you that you have to jot down or mark off or otherwise track and do math with, and like... there's plenty of other results from playing the game good to release the good brain chemicals. You don't explicitly need this one.

3- It's cool when you can have a story where like some dorky little kid starts off barely able to do anything and all unconfident and then gradually gets it together and gets more confident and competent as time goes on!

Oh yeah, everyone loves that sort of thing, and there's a strong case to be made that this is the primary reason people feel the need to put an experience system in basically every RPG, but those systems are all kind of just the worst at actually delivering on that, is the thing.

D&D and its derivatives are the absolute worst with this. The way I put it in this earlier conversation, you start out all, "I am a poor peasant child, barely able to afford the clothes on my back, a length of rope, a week's worth of food, and this dagger here" and then a few months later "I am basically a god and any amount of money less than 1,000,000 times my starting net worth isn't even worth stooping over for." And when I made this point someone corrected me that if you really go by the expected pacing, a campaign without big stretches of downtime between adventures with the recommended combat pacing is going to get you to level 20 in a month.

Now, I don't want to completely spit on the D&D power curve here (the economic one though can absolutely go to hell, stop making me a billionaire as a side effect of killing monsters and do all that bookkeeping). I do enjoy the eb and flow, campaign to campaign, of playing the same characters as wimpy little nothings and demigods over however long it takes my regular group to finish a campaign. But as far as having characters with arcs to them? It is AWFUL!

First off, it's just too damn fast and abrupt. When our little ragtag band heads off into the swamp to deal with those goblins or whatever, we're going to come home from even that little speed bump of an adventure tougher than all our neighbors and absurdly wealthy, to a point where it feels almost inevitable that you leave your old life behind completely and look down on everyone you grew up with.

It's not IMPOSSIBLE to have some sort of long or medium-term personal quest to avenge my parents or show I'm better than some bully, but it takes a real delicate touch to do it right, since you really have to decide up front when exactly I'm going to have that confrontation, make the villain something of an appropriately challenging nature for the level I'm going to be when I settle things, and that I don't manage to arrange that confrontation much earlier or later than planned, because again I'm pretty quickly going from dealing with food rationing, animal attacks, and slippery ravines, to taking down monsters four times my size without breaking a sweat, to like changing the course of history and rivaling evil gods. There's a very small window where it makes sense for me to get back at that owlbear who put me in the hospital or whatever.

And that's not even getting into the problem of how I've got these other three humble little kids from home experiencing all this rapid growth at the same time. Can't really have a wise old mentor if we're using experience as experience. We're either never going to catch up, or we're going to leave them in the dust if they're not leveling with us.

Now, again, D&D is kind of a huge exception here. Most RPGs I've played instead go with a starting setup where you don't start off as some starry-eyed youth who can't do anything, but instead have some skill-based system where every character is an expert without peer in a handful of skills that fit some archetypical theme, and for anything else, they need outside help, either from fellow PCs, or making arrangements with NPC experts. Standard with this is a little drip-feed of extra skill points, but this... really doesn't work for what we're looking for here. If I want to be the party's hacker, I'm going to start off as an excellent hacker. I'm not going to put all my points into shmoozing people and then expect the rest of the party to put up with me looking for the any key over a dozen adventures before finally working out this make or break ability.

4- You gain new abilities as you level up!

So... first off this actually isn't generally all that true. If you're playing a wizard in D&D, sure, every couple levels you get access to a new tier of spells, and hey that's a big game changing deal maybe. Most level-ups though are just about numbers going up. All of them in most games. Hitting harder, more often, in bigger areas, maybe. Skills and abilities work more consistently. You maybe get more HP.

For now though let's focus on when you do level up and get cool new abilities. One moment you're some kid with a stick, then you bonk the magic number of goblins with it, and now suddenly you can make all your friends fly, unbound by gravity, or you can read the thoughts of everyone around you, or you can teleport home where it's nice and safe no matter what the situation. Well that actually really sucks for the GM!

Let's say I'm doing what everyone ever making an 8 or 16-bit RPG did and lifting plot concepts shamelessly from Laputa. We've got our big floating continent. Maybe we've got some kinda evil emperor up there, raining terror down on people or something. Nobody can get there and confront him... until they hit level 7 or whatever and have access to the fly spell. I better get any air superiority based adventures out before then. Also anything where there's a tower that has windows, or dangerous terrain, etc. Better get mysteries and hidden agendas taken care of before that mind reading. Better not think about trapping the party or them getting word of an attack somewhere else before that teleporting. And that's assuming I'm being on the ball about that sort of thing. I might have this whole thing planned, where the party desperately needs to get to that flying continent, and it's this whole quest hook where maybe they have to befriend a dragon or help build an airship or get some kinda rubber bones potion and access to a powerful cannon. Whole adventures about getting that power of flight, and any of these might just totally fizzle because oh whoops, the party leveled up and they just do that now.

Less dramatically, what if we're playing of those skill point games. I'm already a super great seductive femme fatale sneaking past laser sensors and stealing keys off people I'm charming right from the start of the game, and hey, cool, that's a nice simple archetype, everyone knows what I'm good at, we can plan missions around me being all sleazy over here while someone else sets up in a sniper position and someone else is in the basement hacking and all that. Several adventures down the road, well, I have all these skill points, I haven't been able to put them into the stuff I'm good at, so now I'm also a combat monster. The original combat monster can also hack. The original hacker can also charm the pants off everyone. We're starting to develop a lot of redundancy, but that's not necessarily bad? But then we play a bunch more adventures. Those secondary concepts capped off, we're working up more. Nobody is unparalleled at the thing they originally did. Have the party is equally amazing at a given thing. If we keep going like this, eventually everyone is going to loose all sense of unique identity, and there isn't really a strong in-game reason we need this whole ragtag crew anymore. Anyone of us can take on any problem solo, really.

5- The power fantasy of being super amazing.

This is kind of a point I've already hit but I'm stuck with this format, but the thing with experience is, again, sometimes sure you gain new abilities, but usually all your various numbers go up, and that actually kinda sucks in practice. First off, it's a lot of tedious bookkeeping, in basically any system you can name. It also doesn't generally really make a difference in the grand scheme of things?

I'm level 3. I've got a +7 to hit, doing 15 damage a hit, and an AC of 18. I'm fighting some orc with 40 HP, 15 AC, and attacking at +5. I level up a few times. Now I'm level 7. I've got a +13 to hit, doing 30 damage, and an AC of 24. I'm fighting crustaceanoids now, with 80 HP, 21 AC, and attacking at +11. Objective numbers wise, crustateanoids are way way tougher than orcs, but in my experience this is the EXACT same fight. I hit on an 11. I need 3 hits to take something down. It's bad news for me if my enemy rolls a 13 to hit me. All we've done is a bunch of annoying math refactoring with nothing to show for it but cosmetically reskinned mooks.

Now here, interestingly enough, I ONLY have the D&D type example here. Again, most other RPGs I have don't have that same sort of rampant power creep. You start out absurdly skillful at whatever your specialty is, and there's little if any room for growth, numbers wise. So here, if we go from orcs to crustateanoids to hellborn cyberdragons as enemies, not only is this technically a set of progressively scarier enemies to have to deal with, they actually ARE more meaningful threats to the party. Maybe those orcs were all show, they never really hurt us because we're awesome secret agents or something, but now things are getting serious because these crustaceanoids are just as good at sick flips and firing machine guns in two different directions as we are, so we have to take them much more seriously. And oh damn, after this we have to deal with a hellborn cyberdragon? Those are so scary if we all just rush in we're probably all gonna die. We need to come up with a whole complex plan to avoid directly engaging that if at all possible, and run for it if that doesn't pan out, or something.

And hey, we don't need something even more epic than a hellborn cyberdragon to top that. One of those is still going to be harrowing no matter how late in the campaign we bust it out. We can establish a power balance early on and keep it relevant like that. PCs gotta get more innovative and clever not just kill most monsters until demigods are easily punchable.

6: Revenge of 3- Well character growth is still important!

So, I really shouldn't be trashing experience points' ability to deliver cool character growth if I don't have some alternative to it, right? We need some way to change things up so the game doesn't stagnate. Well sure, but we can do better than experience there.

Just off the top of my head, how about we go with plot relevant respec-ing? Like at any given time a character's got their main spotlight thematic kit. Your best of the best at being a hacker or wizard or whatever. Maybe also a secondary skillset. And then definitely some number of slots for stuff they're into but it's not their main thing. Maybe we have a few variant minisets for those. Like if someone just unlocked their psychic powers and haven't fully figured them out, you have access to this here set of abilities. Once you have your big dramatic power mastery moment, that becomes their main thing and we demote their previous main thing to a secondary thing... and if we don't like this psychic stuff in the end, we demote it back down and fill a tertiary slot with like Lost Psychic Powers, where you still get to be all knowledgeable about how this sorta crap works and maybe have some battles of wills but your cool telekinesis is all locked away. At least for now.

I don't want to sit down and fully design a game at the tail end of a blog post here, but feel free to try this out with whatever system you like. Just pick whatever level feels like the good one, build characters with that as their basic kit, let'em have a few dips into secondary and tertiary angles, do a lot of getting thrown out of orders and taking major injuries and getting temporarily possessed or infused with mystery things. And you can do the plucky young kids in over their head thing with this sort of system easily enough. Start off with just the tertiary interest/mini-skill-packs, and once whatever you want to grow into starts coming up, rapidly grow into that over the course of a few adventures, no needing some big dramatic status quo change like this usually calls for.

Oh and I haven't been talking about video games here, but kill experience there too. If I'm not doing the whole Metroidvania/Zeld'em Up thing to pick up new powers as I explore, just gimme the whole kit from the get-go. Have traditional difficulty curves. We're good. Leave the skill trees and the level-grinding out of it. What are you holding back for, replayability? It's been raining free big-name big commitment games for years. Quit demanding that much of our time.

Oh and I keep forgetting to beg for money while I write these. I went 24 hours here without eating because I was just out of food and couldn't afford to go to the store. Someone took pity on me and hand delivered a big bowl of soup. Things are getting real bad. Patreon link.

[cecilysass]

Pause (11/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Epilogue

February 2002

Leaning back in her chair, feet up, she watches the surveillance footage outside Fox’s apartment, just like she does everyday. She could hire someone else to do this task, but she has always preferred to do the little jobs herself. The devil is always in the details.

Her phone rings, and she automatically raises it to her ear. “Fowley.”

Her attention doesn’t waver from what she sees on the screen: Fox exiting his car, jogging a little as he enters the building, an evidently buoyant mood. He’s been coming home from work earlier than usual these past weeks, but she’s seen no indication he’s especially worried about anything. Likely he’s simply a new parent eager to see his offspring.

“How’s your pet project?” asks the voice from the phone.

Fowley stiffens, looks around the room reflexively. She is always unnerved that the smoker seems to know exactly what she is doing at any given moment.

“Going fine,” she answers in a pleasant, conversational voice. “No problems as of yet.”

“There’s been no interest in the child? Besides your own?”

And yours, she thinks. “No,” she says. “It’s all gone as expected.”

The groups interested in Fox’s son have either been eliminated or distracted. Any still remaining at the time of Dana Scully’s return became virtually irrelevant after September 11th, when shadow agencies became less tolerant of all fringe religious groups. This had all been predicted—by Fowley, yes, but even more accurately by the smoker, who seemed to have some indication something like September 11th was going to unfold. Fowley doesn’t like to dig too deep into how or why.

“And the child? Have you observed anything interesting about him?”

“Not too interesting,” Fowley answers. “He has red hair.”

“He may outgrow that.”

Fox is in the building now. Knowing his habits, he probably will stay in until morning. He’s all about family life now. Who would have seen that coming, back when she first met him? She grimaces, leans away from the monitor.

“The child mostly just resembles a pile of blankets from this distance,” she says. “His parents haven’t behaved unusually yet. No sign they’ve… noticed anything.”

“They could be exercising discretion, of course.” She hears the sound of a lighter. “They could be aware they’re being watched.”

“Yes,” Fowley agrees. She huffs a sigh. “It’s really unfortunate we couldn’t observe the child in closer proximity.”

“Well, you can thank your own failures for that,” he comments affably. “If your little experiment with Agent Scully’s memories had been more successful, she and the baby could have been safe with us.”

“I’m aware,” she responds coolly.

“And you weren’t very successful at your first plan, either,” he says, now adding an edge of obvious mockery to his words. “Becoming the child’s mother yourself. Despite your initial confidence. Humiliating, I’d imagine.”

“Not especially,” she says easily. She’s had way too much experience now with him to let him get a rise out of her. “It’s better that it’s Agent Scully anyway. Her own experiences and personal history increase the probability of Fox’s child developing to his full potential.”

“How magnanimous of you, Diana,” the smoker chuckles. “Your selflessness knows no bounds.”

She makes an apathetic humming sound, but clenches her fist tightly until her knuckles crack.

“I suppose now there is nothing for you to do but wait,” he adds. “Keep an eye on the situation. Let the child grow up.”

“Yes,” Fowley agrees. “The situation is stable for now.”

“And Agent Scully’s memories…”

“May come back, at least in some respect,” Fowley allows. “But I still think the full scope of the project will be … unclear to her.”

“We at least can be very certain the child is well-protected,” he adds. “They’re very fond of him, no?”

“Parents are often fond of their own children.”

He chuckles again, apparently impervious to her irony. “Yes,” he says. “Even the strongest man is as vulnerable as his devotion to his child.”

Even now, every once and a while, he still is capable of saying something that plucks a string of dread within her.

“So nothing to do but wait,” he repeats. “No action at this time.”

“Yes,” she says. “We’ll just keep things on pause for now.”

Her gaze falls on the monitor, the motionless grayscale exterior of Fox’s apartment. Fowley continues to think, always unsettled, always ambivalent.

***

Scully has their laundry folded in a perfect semi-circle on the bed. Truthfully it’s far more organized than it really needs to be, but she is a little restless, ready to get back to work soon, and her mental energies are channeling into eccentric directions.

Her headphones are in, her new music on, and she’s dancing a little as she works, although she’d deny it if someone asked her. Listening to music has become so oddly significant to her now, in her 21st century life. It comforts her, drowns out the especially persistent anxious voices in her mind.

And more than that, really.

Sometimes, when she’s listening to something and the conscious part of her brain is distracted, she’ll get an image of something strange. Just a momentary flash. A high school bathroom flooding with water. Her hands digging in the sand on a beach, some place muggy and beautiful. It's not enough for her to mention to Mulder yet, but she’s hopeful. Hopeful and paying close attention.

She’s not paying any attention right now, she realizes. Scully freezes midway through the act of folding her shirt, suddenly aware of the muffled sound of her name being called somewhere in the apartment.

Her head spins around. She plucks off her headphones and sprints into the living room, where Mulder stands in his work clothes.

“Scully,” he exclaims in relief.

“Shhhhh.” She waves her hands frantically. “Not too loud,” she whispers. “We’re in the bedroom. He’s sleeping.”

“You scared me,” he says in a lowered voice, putting his bag down and kissing her. “You weren’t answering.”

“I’m sorry. I was listening to my birthday present,” she admits sheepishly. She pulls the new iPod out of her pocket and turns it off. “I should be more aware of my surroundings.”

“You kids and your rock-and-roll music.” Mulder makes a tsk-tsk sound and slides his hands around her waist. His tone is light, but she can still hear his heart thumping fast as she presses her head to his chest. He’ll probably always be tightly wound when it comes to her and the baby.

“Mulder, look at this.” She breaks away and holds the device’s interface awkwardly up to his face, using the wheel to scroll through song titles. “There are hundreds of tracks on here now, since I have access to the Gunmen’s MP3 downloading system. Look. Alicia Keys. Prince.”

“My little music pirate,” he says fondly.

“I don’t think it’s entirely illegal.”

“Oh no,” he says solemnly. “The Gunmen would never.”

“Are you concerned about my lawbreaking ways?”

“A little,” he breathes into her ear. “Would you, uh, like to do the federal agent questions the suspect thing, Scully?”

She laughs softly and runs her hands down the front of his pants, eliciting a groan. From the other room their son chooses this moment to let loose a cry, signaling the end of his nap.

“Ah, predictable,” Mulder says with a resigned nod. “He has my sense of timing.”

“He’s missed you,” Scully says. The baby escalates to a steady series of wails.

They follow his cries into the bedroom. Mulder is already stretching out his arms. He’s usually eager to pick the baby up when he comes home at the end of the day.

“It’s all right,” coos Scully. “You’re all right.”

Mulder reaches into the crib. “Oh, come on, now,” he says gently, lifting him on to his shoulder and massaging William’s back. “None of this. I thought you were supposed to be a member of this new upbeat generation.”

“No, not him,” Scully says. “He’s too young. He’ll be part of whatever unoriginal name we’ll give the next generation.”

“Shhhh,” Mulder says, whispering in the baby’s ear. “It’s okay. I understand that you’re an individual with a unique personality and can’t be reduced to communal traits based on the year you were born, even if Mommy doesn’t.”

“That explains what he’s so mad about.” Scully smiles, perching on the edge of the bed, careful not to knock over her piles of laundry. Her eyes follow them as Mulder rocks William back and forth, gradually settling down the cries. She wonders if there will ever come a time she isn’t enthralled by watching the two of them together.

Mid-sway, Mulder closes his eyes, pressing his nose into the baby’s fuzzy head for a moment, and his own smile drops away. She knows he can’t help feeling the weight and import of it, having his son in his arms. He never takes any second for granted. Mulder is always so aware it’s something he easily might not have had at all.

“Anything interesting happen today?” he says, turning his eyes to Scully.

She understands the implications of the question.

“No,” Scully answers quietly. “Well,” she adds, “I may have seen the mobile move as I left the room. It could have been …. an optical illusion.”

He nods cautiously, his hand still moving up and down William’s tiny back.

She stands up and takes a step closer to him, barely speaking in a whisper now. “Did you find out anything new?”

He shakes his head grimly, still bobbing and swaying with the baby, and leans towards her, also in a barely-there whisper. “You haven’t mentioned it to anyone? Not even your mom?”

They’re instinctively reluctant to speak about it out loud. Even in their own apartment.

She shakes her head tightly. William makes a squawk and then yawns, stretching his tiny pink mouth impossibly wide.

“Then there’s nothing to be done right now but wait and see,” Mulder says. “Right?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“We’ll keep it between us,” he whispers. “No one else needs to know. You and I will figure it out, Scully.”

“And when I go back to work?” she breathes, lowering her voice again. “What if something happens at daycare?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he says. “Maybe I’ll stay home with him for a while. Or some other plan. We’ll think of something.”

She winds her arms protectively around the two of them, resting her forehead on Mulder’s bicep. “You’re very confident,” she remarks against him.

“Well,” he says, “I can always say now that the worst has already happened, and I’ve already survived it.” He rests his head against hers, and she shifts so that their heads make a protective arch over William.

“Hmmm,” she says.

“We survived it,” he corrects himself.

“So we’ll keep William’s little tricks discreet,” she whispers. “We’ll wait and see. Maybe try to find out more at work.”

“That’s the plan,” he says. She can feel his hot breath on her face. “Plus, raise a kid and be pain-in-the-ass federal agents. Oh, and have a honeymoon. That’s an important part of my plan.”

Her laugh is full and rich, and she finds herself fiddling with her ring on the hand that’s pressed against Mulder’s back. “I honestly don’t know how we’re going to make a honeymoon happen for a while, Mulder. We’ve got this newborn.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, too,” he says. He kisses her gently, right over their lightly-cooing son. Mulder’s eyes are soft and bright. “It’s just on pause for now.”

NOTE: I thank each and every one of you for your many supportive, amazing, sometimes-unhinged, always-delightful comments and messages. I appreciate each and every one of them. I worry a lot when posting a fic, and this feedback is so wonderful. I'm truly grateful. I'm now going to make a pitch for a coming attraction! If you liked Pause, you’ll love this! There is a WIP I'm currently a beta for being written by @sisterspooky1013. She started writing this fic, Gaslight, about the same time I began this one, and when we read the beginning of one another's fics, we worried: uh oh, these are so similar. (It turns out they aren't really.) But Gaslight is amaaaaaaazing, and the angst will kill you. It's not finished yet—I wish she would, so I can find out what happens—but watch out for it. It will have you in a chokehold.

[phlve]

Functions in Socionics — Introverted Intuition

Introverted Intuition according to Aushra Augustinavichiute

All processes occur in time, which means they have roots in the past and continue into the future. Time is a relation between events occurring in sequence. This aspect of perception provides information about the sequence of events and people’s actions, their causal interdependence, and people’s own feelings that are caused by this interdependence.

One perceives direct outside information that is obtained through the first signal system as feelings about the future, the past and the present. Examples include a sense of haste, calmness or fervor; a sense of something being timely or premature; a sense of whether the pace of life is proper or improper; a sense of future danger or safety; a sense of anticipation; a fear of being late; a feeling of knowing what will happen in the future; an anxiety about what is to come; etc. One has some sense of time at any moment of one’s life. It is impossible to live outside of time or lack any feelings towards it. Therefore a certain sense of time is an integral part of one’s spiritual state at any given moment. This aspect of perception determines one’s ability or inability to predict the future and plan for it, to avoid possible problems and erroneous actions, and to learn from past experience.

When this aspect of perception is in the leading position, the individual has strategic abilities and knows how to choose an optimal moment for a particular activity. For example, giving battle when it is necessary and avoiding it when it is a better course of action, just like Mikhail Kutuzov always did.

Interaction in time could be called an ability to avoid collisions with objects, thereby avoiding their reflection in oneself.

Introverted Intuition according to WSS

Aspect: Visualised Trends: Events occur and reoccur throughout time in certain patterns or trends which can be noticed and picked out via abstraction and reflection. The strength of these trends point to eventual outcomes that are of greater salience and meaning than the noise of many other situations, and can be picked out as consequences to reach towards or to avoid.

Metabolism: The individual carefully reflects on past events, considering what has happened before and noticing salient trends. Mentally following the path of these trends, they visualise outcomes that are likely to happen and what would ensure or offset routes toward these outcomes. Picking out particular outcomes of importance limits the range of possible instances to those that are probably going to happen, allowing one to plan a path to follow in the long-term.

Strength: The person possesses a capacity for deep thought and reflection on the meaning behind mundane events. With great insight, they can think ahead and predict what will likely come to pass from daily actions, understanding from little concrete data the consequences of what we do. They will have a good idea of how to avoid probable future mishaps, while also being confident in where their life is heading and how to align their actions with a particular path or plan of importance.

Value: The person wishes to narrow the scope of possibilities in their lives to the few most important, wanting to form a clear path to follow in life with an outcome meaningful to them. They will want to carefully make decisions on their future, not wishing to turn back from the plan they have committed to. Distractions will be cut out, the daily lifestyle being pruned to fall in line with the path without distraction. They will also recognise the importance of the past, remembering previous instances to inform future actions.

Introverted Intuition according to SHS

Imagination, memories, predictions; suggestion, hypnosis, visions, symbolism; reflection, premonitions, omens; nervous system.

Intellectually: The T-state at the intellectual level forms the most abstract type of thinking, which reflects the global processes found in the external world and which are caused by time. The law of entropy–the steady shift from more organised life forms to more chaotic simple ones–is at the heart of T-thinking. Birth, becoming, death, and rebirth in other forms–this kind of information is being processed in the human brain while in this state. If in the I-state a person obtains knowledge from within themselves, from their subconscious psychic layers, then in the T-state information comes from outside–from the “Cosmos.” Intuition of time thinking occurs through dynamic visual forms. Eyes go up and flutter a little, as if trying to follow the movement of the perceived image.

Socially: A stable expression of the T-state in a society leads to the informal role of a “mirror.” In the T-state, a person can predict the entire socio-psychological dynamic of a team. A person turns into a sensitive sensor of any changes within a team. Like a drop of water, the person reflects all the bad and good that was, is and will be in this group of people. In the T-state, a person combines within two contradictory roles of being a “prophet,” and at the same time being a victim who will be blamed for the group’s failures.

Psychologically: The T-state is experienced as feeling victimised (or sacrificed). This state is the most religiously colored, as it desires freedom from everything earthly and carnal, anything that binds the spirit. In the T-state, a person is drawn to the mysterious, otherworldly, and transcendental. In its extreme expression, the T-state leads to hallucinations, the appearance of various mystical visions. A person with a persistent T-state is most susceptible to hypnosis. Another manifestation of the intuition of time is feeling vulnerable to fate, lacking free will, existing at the behest of higher powers.

Physically: One of the most important signs of a T-state is the loss of body sensations. In the T-state, a person feels neither pain nor carnal pleasure. The lifelessness of the body manifests itself in its fragility, paleness, and inner emptiness. The T-state is expressed through posture of humility: hunched shoulders, retracted or, conversely, elongated neck, tilted or raised head, general bending of the body. The movements in this state are uniformly slow and smooth. It feels like a waking dream. The eyes of a person in the T-state are very sad, they seem to reflect dim and mysterious “moonlight.”

Source: PDB Wiki

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

Can I make alien characters colour blind but not in the way humans or animals are but and also doesn't seem to make sense with what we know of vision? Like they mix up blue and green but can see reds and yellows. Maybe because they don't have rods and cones like we do.

Tex: Vision is a bio-mechanical system comprised of rods, cones, nerves, and other associated biological constructs, particularly in the human body (Wikipedia). Colour-blindness is typically genetic in cause and not an average design of eyesight (WIkipedia).

What is standard vision for one species can be unusual for another species, and this is something that is generally the product of niche environment evolution. If the species you’re worldbuilding inherently doesn’t have the ability to differentiate between blue and green, then that’s what their vision entails - it’s perfectly possible for their rods, cones, and whatnot to be arranged in such a way that different different parts of the visible light spectrum are processed as the same.

Licorice: It’s entirely up to you whether you want the species in your science fiction to follow the same biological principles as earth species, or do something partly or entirely different. You could equip them with some hitherto never-dreamt-of organ of sight. It would be a challenge, since we find it difficult to imagine things outside the scope of our experience, but it can be done. 

Wootzel: Humans have three types of cones, and they’re relatively adaptable. We have red, green, and blue cones, but those can essentially detect a range of wavelengths, so we can perceive colors between those three. Our brains do some heavy lifting to determine 60% red light + 40% green light = a certain shade of orange, giving us a lot of precise color vision out of relatively simple eye “hardware.”

Plenty of animals--lots of birds and insects, among others--can see ultraviolet light, which has a shorter wavelength than what humans can see. Many birds have markings that can only be seen if you can detect ultraviolet, and lots of flowers have patterns that are invisible to us! 

Some animals--certain species of snake come to mind, but I’m sure there are plenty of others--have the ability to “see” infrared, which is a longer wavelength than our visible spectrum. The examples I’m aware of don’t use their eyes to see infrared, but they have heat pits on the face. Infrared light/radiation behaves a little differently than visible light, in that it is… more or less a by-product of heat production, and snakes that can detect it generally use it to locate their warm-blooded prey.

Mantis shrimp are everyone’s favorite example nowadays of “look how weird nature can get with vision compared to humans,” so let’s talk about them a little. 

Here’s an article that goes over some wacky aspects of mantis shrimp eyes, and here’s one that debunks part of what the other article says. The TL;DR of both of them is that mantis shrimp eyes have three to four times as many component types as human eyes, but their vision relies more on individual cones’ narrow spectrum sensitivity and less on their brains. This means that they can process lots of colors really quickly, but their actual ability to tell similar shades apart is quite a bit cruder than a human’s! They can also see ultraviolet, and curiously enough, they can detect the polarization of light. Here’s another article talking about how some animals use polarized light. 

For one more wacky example of vision in nature, check out this explanation of how birds are theorized to literally see the Earth’s magnetic field to aid in migration.

Lastly, don’t forget about echolocation! Bouncing vibrations are a different strategy of “vision” that doesn’t use the same radiation as everything else I’ve mentioned.

Okay, so this is all just stuff found on Earth, and we may not have even discovered all the ways in which our animal neighbors can see the world differently than us (and for that matter, this is just all the stuff I’ve personally heard of). What would you like your aliens to perceive? Do you want to go about it in an entirely different way compared to Earth biology, or build from the same base? What about your aliens’ evolutionary environment might have made it advantageous to see certain parts of the spectrum more clearly than others, or make other parts irrelevant to them?

[joyietalksbooks]

Re-Reading Anne Of Green Gables

Exploring A Familiar Story From A New Perspective

Hey there, bookish friend! Are you having a fun weekend?

If you've been here for a while, you might know I’m reading Anne of Green Gables this month. To be a little more precise, I’m re-reading it, it’s my second time reading the book. The first time I read it was September last year. And honestly, back then I didn’t think I’d liked it that much.

But when September came this year, and the weather started to shift, it kind of started to remind me of the book, and I started to miss Anne and her antics through Avonlea. So, I decided to re-read it once I was done with War and Peace.

I’ve always been a re-reader. When I love a book, I re-read it again and again. Some people find that weird, I’ve been asked how I can read the same book or watch the same film again and again and actually enjoy it. But the thing is, I really do. And now that I’m re-reading this book, I’m making some conscious observations, comparing this reading with my first.

The most obvious difference I'm noticing is how laidback this reading feels. Because I already know the story, I know what happens. And knowing the whats gives me the scope to enjoy the hows and whys. I’m generally a very impatient reader, once I get started with a book, I find it very difficult to put it down. I cannot rest until I find out what happens. This makes me a fast reader. But this also makes me miss out on some of the finer details. Sometimes I do understand, even as I’m rushing through a book, that I’m missing certain points, but I simple can’t stop myself. This is where re-reading comes handy.

Reading this book the second time, I’m actually taking my time to read all the descriptions, the beautiful landscapes, the trees and flowers and lakes and brooks and orchards. Montgomery paints such a vivid picture, a big chunk of which I just brushed past last time.

And the characters! Knowing the journey of the characters, it’s easier to see beyond the surface and figure out what role they play in the story. For example, I’m only realisisng this time around that Matthew plays a middle ground between the overly imaginative Anne and the overly realistic Marilla who often butt heads. He gets Anne, and he also gets Marilla, and helps them take a step towards each other. The first time I read the book, I saw him play the peacemaker between them two but never thought beyond that.

It’s also easier to notice foreshadowing. For example, Matthew’s heart problems are introduced in the very first chapter, or Anne’s first introduction (which we get from the stationmaster) with her preferring to wait outside instead of in the waiting room because there’s more scope of imagination. I can appreciate these details much better now that I already know the story. Therefore, yes, technically it is the same story, but the reading is completely different.

And I’m sure if (when) I re-read it again, that reading experience will be another new one, completely different from this one.

There’s so much more to a story than just what happens. When I read Romeo and Juliet the first time, I already knew the story. But it was still an absolute treat just reading Shakespeare’s beautiful verses.

Similarly, re-reading a story, especially a story you already enjoy, is so much fun. In fact I’d say with each re-reading, the story only gets better, like a fine wine. And with each re-reading, my love for a story only deepens.

What about you? Do you enjoy re-reading books? Don’t forget to let me know.

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[smokeybrandreviews]

Wednesday Addams and the Battle for Nevermore Academy

I have a thing for goth girls. Pale, macabre, and borderline psychotic. I grew up in the Nineties and certain film heroines informed this infatuation and even encouraged it. I’m talking Selena Kyle from Batman Returns, Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice, and Nancy Downs from The Craft. These women absolutely informed my sexual awakening as i found their grim charms and murderous wiles absolutely captivating. However, for me, the genesis of this interest in those witchy women started when i was seven years old and introduced to Christina Ricci’s Wednesday Addams. I was absolutely smitten ever since, with both the character archetype and the actress, herself. Fast forward what? Thirty years? and there’s a new Wednesday and she has her own show so you know i had to marathon the f*ck out of that sh*t!

Listen, his show is tailor-made for me. I love that Burton aesthetic, it stars one of my favorite characters, and Christina Ricci has a decently sized role. I was a little disappointed that this wasn’t, like, a fast-forward type situation where we got to see an adult Wednesday played by Ricci but that’s fine. The Netflix Wednesday show is it’s own thing and stands firmly on the strength of it’s world. Seriously, there is a lot of lore introduced in this show that kind of makes the Addams not so “strange” but, at the same time, never taking away from their absolute weirdness. I was a little disappointed that the majority of this show takes place at a school and, basically just outside in the neighboring town, but i get it. Harry Potter built and entire goddamn franchise rarely leaving Hogwarts and Wednesday cribs a lot from that trope. You get a whole yarn of an adventure which basically only has two locations. I am sure this was do to budget constraints but you kind of lose yourself in the overall narrative so it kind of doesn’t matter in the end. I do wish the scope was bigger but there is enough here to forgive how small this little narrative ends up feeling.

I’ve heard that Wednesday feels like a CW teen drama but with solid production values and i can see that being a thing. You’d be forgiven is you basically came away from this show thinking it’s basically just the Chilling Adventure of Wednesday Addams. If you watch those shows religiously, you’ll see man of the same tropes and retreads. The overall plot is kind of easy to figure out and the climax is more of a “what the f*ck” kind of situation but, i mean, it’s a teen dramedy starring a high functioning sociopath who is hyper-fixated on the darkest aspects of the human experience. It’s absolutely f*cking endearing and i loved the twists, even if they were telegraphed from a mile away. Like, this sh*t isn’t winning any awards but it’s head-and-shoulders better than the likes of, say, Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars. That Sabrina comparison is actually pretty apt because Wednesday is probably as good as the best season of that show. I’d say it’s better simply because the characters are far richer and performed with so much more passion, specifically Jenna Ortega.

Ortega’s take on Wednesday is both familiar and different from anything I've seen. It’s very obvious Jenna has based a great deal of her initial performance of Ricci’s take and i imagine having the OG Wednesday on set, went a long way to helping her nail those subtle mannerisms but Ortega’s take is, surprisingly, much warmer. I'll always love Ricci’s version but Ortega’s is definitely a close second and that’s probably because we got to see this Wednesday actually grow over an eight episode arc. Actually staying with this character, watching her grow as she builds relationships outside of her principal family members (Wednesday’s burgeoning friendships with Enid and Eugene are everything) was something special to witness. It helps tremendously that the supporting cast is up to the task because matching Ortega’s energy was definitely a tall order. I mean, did you see that dance scene? That sh*t was perfectly Wednesday!

All in all, i thought this first season was pretty good. I loved the performances and the world we were introduced to in this rather brisk, eight episode count. This is definitely Jenna Ortega’s show and will go as far as she can carry it but Wednesday has help carrying that weight. I particularly enjoyed Emma Myers’ Enid Sinclair but the rest of the supporting cast was pretty solid. I enjoyed seeing Gwendolyn Christie in something where she was able to actually, you know, act. Obviously Catherine Zeta-Jones did her thing but Luis Guzman stole every scene he was in. Actually, i just want to stop and properly recognize that the Addams are actually Hispanic in descent. Like, Gomez is straight up Mexican in this and i love that. Ultimately, Wednesday was a fun little watch. I have a few problems with the scripting, some rather poor aspects of writing at times, and a climax that felt a little underwhelming but, overall, i can pretty enthusiastically recommend this show. If you have Netflix, definitely check this one out!

[smokeybrand]

Wednesday Addams and the Battle for Nevermore Academy

I have a thing for goth girls. Pale, macabre, and borderline psychotic. I grew up in the Nineties and certain film heroines informed this infatuation and even encouraged it. I’m talking Selena Kyle from Batman Returns, Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice, and Nancy Downs from The Craft. These women absolutely informed my sexual awakening as i found their grim charms and murderous wiles absolutely captivating. However, for me, the genesis of this interest in those witchy women started when i was seven years old and introduced to Christina Ricci’s Wednesday Addams. I was absolutely smitten ever since, with both the character archetype and the actress, herself. Fast forward what? Thirty years? and there’s a new Wednesday and she has her own show so you know i had to marathon the f*ck out of that sh*t!

Listen, his show is tailor-made for me. I love that Burton aesthetic, it stars one of my favorite characters, and Christina Ricci has a decently sized role. I was a little disappointed that this wasn’t, like, a fast-forward type situation where we got to see an adult Wednesday played by Ricci but that’s fine. The Netflix Wednesday show is it’s own thing and stands firmly on the strength of it’s world. Seriously, there is a lot of lore introduced in this show that kind of makes the Addams not so “strange” but, at the same time, never taking away from their absolute weirdness. I was a little disappointed that the majority of this show takes place at a school and, basically just outside in the neighboring town, but i get it. Harry Potter built and entire goddamn franchise rarely leaving Hogwarts and Wednesday cribs a lot from that trope. You get a whole yarn of an adventure which basically only has two locations. I am sure this was do to budget constraints but you kind of lose yourself in the overall narrative so it kind of doesn’t matter in the end. I do wish the scope was bigger but there is enough here to forgive how small this little narrative ends up feeling.

I’ve heard that Wednesday feels like a CW teen drama but with solid production values and i can see that being a thing. You’d be forgiven is you basically came away from this show thinking it’s basically just the Chilling Adventure of Wednesday Addams. If you watch those shows religiously, you’ll see man of the same tropes and retreads. The overall plot is kind of easy to figure out and the climax is more of a “what the f*ck” kind of situation but, i mean, it’s a teen dramedy starring a high functioning sociopath who is hyper-fixated on the darkest aspects of the human experience. It’s absolutely f*cking endearing and i loved the twists, even if they were telegraphed from a mile away. Like, this sh*t isn’t winning any awards but it’s head-and-shoulders better than the likes of, say, Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars. That Sabrina comparison is actually pretty apt because Wednesday is probably as good as the best season of that show. I’d say it’s better simply because the characters are far richer and performed with so much more passion, specifically Jenna Ortega.

Ortega’s take on Wednesday is both familiar and different from anything I've seen. It’s very obvious Jenna has based a great deal of her initial performance of Ricci’s take and i imagine having the OG Wednesday on set, went a long way to helping her nail those subtle mannerisms but Ortega’s take is, surprisingly, much warmer. I'll always love Ricci’s version but Ortega’s is definitely a close second and that’s probably because we got to see this Wednesday actually grow over an eight episode arc. Actually staying with this character, watching her grow as she builds relationships outside of her principal family members (Wednesday’s burgeoning friendships with Enid and Eugene are everything) was something special to witness. It helps tremendously that the supporting cast is up to the task because matching Ortega’s energy was definitely a tall order. I mean, did you see that dance scene? That sh*t was perfectly Wednesday!

All in all, i thought this first season was pretty good. I loved the performances and the world we were introduced to in this rather brisk, eight episode count. This is definitely Jenna Ortega’s show and will go as far as she can carry it but Wednesday has help carrying that weight. I particularly enjoyed Emma Myers’ Enid Sinclair but the rest of the supporting cast was pretty solid. I enjoyed seeing Gwendolyn Christie in something where she was able to actually, you know, act. Obviously Catherine Zeta-Jones did her thing but Luis Guzman stole every scene he was in. Actually, i just want to stop and properly recognize that the Addams are actually Hispanic in descent. Like, Gomez is straight up Mexican in this and i love that. Ultimately, Wednesday was a fun little watch. I have a few problems with the scripting, some rather poor aspects of writing at times, and a climax that felt a little underwhelming but, overall, i can pretty enthusiastically recommend this show. If you have Netflix, definitely check this one out!

[roguephoenix85]

Final chapter - is Ymir badly written or is it something else? (spoiler for the end of SNK)

TW: mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse 

So I’ve seen a few people confused, upset, and a little angry about the explanation for Ymir “loving” Fritz as the reason why things were as they were, and claiming it’s bad writing and rushed and what have you. I don’t claim to know all the nuances and in and outs of long form storytelling such as Attack on Titan, but I do know some things about being a victim of brainwashing, abuse, and defending the people who abused me. Some are saying it’s Stockholm syndrome, and while I don’t necessarily disagree, it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Because I did everything I could to get away from my family that hurt and abused me, but I still kept them in my life for some inexplicable reason, year after year, involving them in it and divulging information to them that they would use to harm me psychologically and mentally for their amusement and sense of power and superiority. Why? Everyone outside of my family who observed it could see that they were shitty and awful and I didn’t need them. But after 30 years of being told I’m incompetent, no one loves me like they would, I can’t take care of my life responsibly like an adult would, and that I’ll never have enough money to live unless they helped (and the condition of their help was to give them control over my care - they picked doctors, therapists, everyone, that would give them the diagnoses they wanted so it would be an easier case to be declared legally incompetent and have my mother control my financial and housing freedom), I had internalized it to such a degree that I truly believed those things about myself. My depression and suicidal thinking sprung from the conflict that this treatment wasn’t right vs. but they’re your family and they love you so they MUST be right, you MUST be an evil child to be controlled, and YOU’RE the problem. When that is all you know, you think that it’s love. Because the love you receive is conditional upon subservience.

Ymir wanted love and the only “love” was from the king once she acquired power. As much as she wanted the love she observed the only love available was manipulative and abusive. If you’ve never known actual unconditional love, you’ll take anything that you’re given.  That’s why I was raped. That’s why I was molested. That’s why I allowed myself to compromise myself to stay with people who only sought to use and manipulate me for their own ends.

Because there was none around me. And when you’re terrified of death and attached to the world, wanting and hoping that someday something good will finally happen, you latch on to people, ideas, objects that end up doing more harm than good to you, because all you know is that abuse is what love is. Mistreatment is the norm. But inside, you know it’s not right. Something doesn’t feel right. So you hope. You pick the first person who gives you any value, even if it’s your value to them and not your own inherent value you’ve found for yourself. You never truly live for yourself. You’re living so that others will give you your value. Because when you did do things for yourself - you’re ridiculed. You’re betrayed. You’re humiliated and abused more. You’re kicked so much that you go back, again, and again, because the humiliation is worse than just letting them do what they want to you. That’s what happened to Ymir. The one time she did something she wasn’t “supposed to”, what happened? She got hunted and almost murdered. And when she found that power, she had value to her oppressor. Her tribe betrayed her to save themselves. This “king” tried to have her killed. But she found power. And once she had power, her abusers sought to capitalize on it. She had no one. So when you gain power and all of a sudden you have value to someone? You latch on. Because now you’re important. Now you’ve elevated yourself. But that value isn’t something for YOU. It’s something that is for the benefit of someone who only values you when you’re doing something for them.

I’ve noticed a lot of “I don’t get why Ymir would love the king, that’s bad storytelling”. My mother is a sociopath and allowed my molestation when I was a child because “everyone else went through worse and you’re a nasty little girl” - to a nine year old. She schemed to take my inheritance away from me. When my visitation with my father was over for the weekend, she would abuse and manipulate me for three days after every visit to “get me back to where I needed to be.” I would be choked, slapped, hit, have my room ransacked and destroyed if I didn’t comply with her wishes. When I wanted to kill myself because I found no solace with friends, teachers, therapists (that my mother sought out and paid for because she wanted someone to declare me incompetent or bipolar so she could take away my legal rights and exert control over every aspect of my life), neighbors, no one, even my own stepfather told me I was stupid for wanting to kill myself and that I’m ungrateful for everything. I would later discover this man was a heroin addict for longer than I had even been alive and that the only reason my mother stayed with him was because he had a large inheritance that would come to him and she could easily have his power of attorney taken away from him and control him because hey, he’s a drug addict and can’t be trusted. Better to let her take care of it all, right?

And even after all of this, I loved her. Well, I used to. I would keep wanting her love and respect because to give it up meant I had no value to anyone. The two significant others that I did have didn’t really love me, my last one was also a sociopath who convinced me to snort adderall, take hallucinogens, and stole my car to commit sexual assault against a mutual friend who had been assaulted not even 6 hours prior by someone else. When all you know is abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, and harming yourself to get a modicum of dignity and respect and love, of COURSE you stay. Because no one else loves you, right? You’re worthless and stupid and have no value except to me. I’m the only one who can love you. I’m the only one who can use you properly. Just do what I say and what I want and don’t complain or worse will happen to you. Families don’t do this to each other, you’re just mad that I’m better than you. Choices are hard, let me make them for you because clearly you can’t handle the “real world.”

When you are told these things and unduly punished for pushing back against it, of COURSE you think it’s love. Because no one is giving it to you otherwise. They isolate you, triangulate you so you HAVE to go back to them. And you do it. Because there’s nothing else around you showing you otherwise. It’s only when you share the story with others, or view it through the lens of someone else, that you understand how fucked it truly is. Under the under, Ymir is a child. She’s a child who wants to be loved. And all she’s known is manipulation and abuse. For thousands of years, because each “founder” was just her original abuser in a new body. Like Zeke. 

Until Eren. Who saw her story, and instead of using her, validated her. Saw her experiences through an objective lens and said ENOUGH OF THIS. This is WRONG. It’s SICK. And it won’t end unless I do this. Until I give her the choice to break free. All it takes is one person to listen to you and hear you and your world is changed. But she never appeared as she did when she died. She was still a hurt child beholden to her abusers. And in this instance, the only thing that could make it stop is destroying it completely. 

Is genocide wrong? Yes. Is scapegoating an entire race of people in the name of world unity wrong? Yes.  Is using children for war and power and brainwashing them wrong? Yes. This world is cruel. It always was. That’s been the thesis of this story from day one. But. It’s also beautiful. But you have to allow that beauty in. You have to show it to people. Ymir wasn’t able to see any of it until it was far too late, but not from her own conscious choice. She’s just a child who wants to be loved and only found manipulation. And was scared of “death” because that meant there was no love in the world. None for her. Her existence was to be used and fucked to death metaphorically. And when that’s the only love you’re given and told to expect, you hold on to it and believe there’s nothing better.

Until someone or something objective comes along, hears your pain, shares it, validates it, and then tells you it’s fucked up that that’s how you were forced to live. When everything you’ve known is a fucking lie, you do want to scorch the earth somewhat. All these people that could have helped you and they said fuck you, I’ll use you too. Standing up to your abuser is scary. I’m currently suing my mother now, and I’ve been terrified of her retaliation even though I’m 35. Because she has money and people she can manipulate into harassing me on her behalf. Even though I’ve taken as many precautions as I can, there’s still things she can do - ensure I get none of my inheritance, destroy my childhood memories, slander me publicly, fly out to where I live and stalk me or have others stalk me, or find people loyal to her to assert that I should be declared incompetent because of my autism, even though I have my own doctors I see now who disagree with that sentiment. It’s scary, but it’s right. But I’m also an adult now, and when I realized that my stepfather was telling everyone in the family that when he was high on ketamine I convinced him to murder my birth father, and that it was MY IDEA, and that my mother lied about reporting my sexual abuse to DHS because she wanted to protect her brother, his kid that abused me, and their family over me, and also had me lie about my birth father abusing me by convincing me “Oh it was so traumatic you can’t remember” so she could get custody of me just because she hated him, I finally said enough. But I didn’t have an Eren to help me make that decision. Or a Mikasa to do what needed to be done.

Ymir is still just a child mentally. Separation from that, especially when you’re a child and have no other allies in the world and you’re told worse could happen to you if you separate from your abusers, is difficult. And sometimes nonsensical. I know a lot of people were confused as to why I would still try to involve my mother in my life after the insanely fucked up shit she would do. But you don’t know any better when you’re the target. My reasoning is that I’m an adult now and I have a life of my own I’ve built despite her. Ymir didn’t have, or didn’t understand, that choice. So she stayed. Asking for breadcrumbs of love and respect and dignity from lesser beings. To quote Chelsea Hart “You want to be worshipped by a goddess without having to be a god.” She had the power, and she didn’t know what to do because she was a child. So she gave away her power. And by then it was too late to be properly reasoned with. The only way to stop it was to destroy all of it. Because when you’re a child you don’t have the benefit of retrospect. You have a limited view of the world because you’re a child. You’ve been sheltered and told manipulative bullshit to keep you down, so breaking free is the radical thing. And when you’re a child, you don’t know moderation. You’re impulsive and your emotional intelligence is limited. So of course the rumbling is the result. But you also think you still love your abuser. Because that’s all you know truly, and when you don’t see it until it’s too late, this is the result. It’s tragic, but Isayama never said this was a happy story. And considering how he WAS going to end it, giving who remains another chance at life and evening the playing field by having Paradis’ army now be comparable to the opposition army, and having the curse of the Titans eliminated from the world, that’s a pretty good ending for them.

I mean, isn’t that what Eren’s goal was since he was a child? To eliminate the Titans from the Earth? I’d say that mission is fully accomplished now.

[shihalyfie]

The paradox of the relationship between Takeru and Hikari

The issue of the relationship between Takeru and Hikari has been a question of interest since the series first aired, and especially after 02, which prominently depicted them constantly hanging out together and clearly having some kind of relation to each other...and yet, strangely, very rarely having a real heart-to-heart or even talking to each other much at all. The constant juxtapositions of them standing next to each other all of the time in both the series and in external media, combined with the fact they’re so associated with each other in terms of being Adventure returnees and with Digimon partners with similar evolutions, makes one almost mentally geared to associate them with each other, and yet we never really get to hear what they think about each other in the entirety of Adventure or 02′s running.

Part of this is because Takeru and Hikari are the two most “difficult to read” characters in the 02 team -- Hikari because she compulsively suppresses any selfish or negative feeling she has, and Takeru because he covers up his problems with a smile and pretends everything is okay, until it’s not. And, as it turns out, that “gap in communication” exists between the two of them as well; in the web of 02′s relationships, it’s a strange mix between being “comfortable around” each other, and yet not truly knowing each other...

Disclaimer before we continue: With some exceptions related to unambiguous canon depictions, I try to write my meta about relationships between characters in such a way that both shipping readings and non-shipping readings are possible in most cases, and my main reason for this is that I very strongly believe that even if you do ship the pair in question, it’s rather reductive (and not very fun) to stop an analysis at “anyway it’s because they’re in love” or something and not go any further. If you don’t care for Takeru/Hikari as a ship, I hope you can take this analysis as-is, and if you do happen to ship it, I hope you can take my analysis of the gaps in their relationship as “things they would have to consider and overcome for such a relationship to be possible” (i.e. a possible fanfic prompt?) and not me trying to dismiss the ship as inherently possible or impossible.

A second disclaimer: A lot of the important key points below are heavily dependent on how they were presented in the Japanese version of 02, especially in regards to the key 02 episode 13. The American English dub took a very large number of liberties with a lot of the below aspects, so if you are reading this with only that version as a reference, please be aware that there may be significant differences for the sake of avoiding confusion.

Hikari didn’t get to spend much of the series with the rest of the Adventure group, having been a “latecomer”, but once she enters, it’s rather interesting how much Takeru doesn’t socialize much with her. Granted, part of this was because of the circumstances -- there was a lot to be done, and Hikari had a cold relapse not long after they’d entered the Digital World -- but you’d really think Takeru would be interested in at least socializing with someone who’s actually his age, and yet we don’t get any real depiction of doing so outside of discussing important matters. It’s not to say that they never had any kind of conversation offscreen, but by the time we get to the end of Adventure, we have zero scope of what they actually think of each other.

By the time we get to 02, it turns out that this is probably by design.

First of all, we very quickly learn that the two of them did not keep up between Adventure and 02 -- they’re meeting each other again for the first time in a long time, and the last time they did meet was when they were much younger (probably their last meeting being the one depicted in the flashback in 02 episode 27). This is understandable considering that, up until the beginning of 02, Takeru lived in Sangenjaya and not Odaiba, meaning that it wasn’t like they’d have opportunities to meet up much in real life either, but the point is that this is how little contact and how little involvement they’d had in each other’s lives up until this point.

So, once the plot of 02 kicks off and the two of them become active as Chosen Children again, the two of them end up hanging out a lot. So much that Daisuke starts accusing them of having something between them. And the two of them never say anything to really firmly deny him, which of course only makes him more confused and upset, until 02 episode 17, when the concrete connection between them is established to the rest of the 02 team, and it’s properly disclosed that they were part of a whole adventure back in 1999 together.

Takeru knew Hikari before, and she’s still the one he knows the best out of this team, and on Hikari’s part, Takeru understands the nature of “being a Chosen Child” in ways the others don’t, and both of them had that formative experience that the others don’t understand. But 02 is a series that’s not only about relationships, but also about the differing nature of relationships -- it’s true that, having known each other well beforehand and also being all-around decent people, the two of them would certainly have an extra level of investment in each other’s welfare, but...

In 02 episode 13, we learn that as much as Takeru knows Hikari, he doesn’t really know her, and on Hikari’s part, she’s still incapable of communicating the extent of her thoughts so that he can.

The conversation between Takeru and Hikari behind the school in this episode is the first time we get to really see an opportunity for the two of them to bare their actual emotions, but nothing that can be called a "conversation" is had between them. Hikari is still plagued by a compulsive desire to not be a burden to others, including the idea of “burdening” her brother, and, when Takeru finally prompts her on what’s going on, she says nothing that properly clarifies what she’s going through, nothing but a cryptic mention of the “sea”, a statement that she "might be going away”, and a reference to her brother having always protected her beforehand. Takeru takes it as a sign that Hikari’s become overly dependent on Taichi, and snaps at her angrily -- a persistent symptom of him being unable to regulate his emotions properly -- and, unable to handle it, runs off awkwardly, leaving her alone to eventually be taken away. Later in the episode, Takeru reflects that he’d basically just doomed Hikari by his own actions, and with his last words to her having been something awful.

Ultimately, some degree of progress is made in that Hikari realizes that Takeru reaching out to her earlier makes him someone she should be reaching out to for help -- in the end, nobody in the 02 group had yet been able to reach out to her emotionally because of how closed-in she was, and the only people she truly trusted with her feelings up until that point were Taichi and Tailmon. So in other words, Takeru is another person she can finally “trust” with her feelings and welfare. But while Takeru is finally able to connect to her in some sense with this, when the two finally close off the episode and return to the real world, everything ends in complete silence. They do not say a single word to each other. They’re getting by with a sense of “inherent trust”, and their disconnect was resolved with that alone this time, but this problem hasn’t been fully solved yet and will be rearing its ugly head again by the time we get around to the Jogress arcs.

And so the two of them return back to their “comfortable with each other” status quo -- but, again, 02 is a series that portrays relationships in a very multi-layered and multifaceted form, and being comfortable around someone still doesn’t necessarily merit emotional closeness (for instance, Ken was pretty clearly indicated as being “comfortable” and straightforward in terms of working with Miyako in 02 episodes 25 and 33, but there’s no doubt that Daisuke’s the one who was more properly addressing the things he emotionally needed most at the time, which could arguably be said to be exactly why Ken was having a hard time adjusting to him at first). We see them “go off together” to do...completely mundane and practical things, like discussing why they’re still able to come to the Digital World in 02 episode 22, or trying to have their Digimon partners evolve on their own in 02 episode 24 -- they’re not having any kind of emotional heart-to-heart, they’re just there.

When you look at the wider picture, you can see that Hikari and Takeru’s relative comfort around each other at this point is largely because they’re still not comfortable being alone with anyone else yet. So far, they kind of had a bonding (not really bonding) session back in 02 episode 13, and they hadn’t had anything of the sort with anyone else, and they’re still the only people who understand certain things relevant to the adventure in 1999 that the others don’t. They’re both still ridiculously closed-in and guarded, and not trusting anyone with their feelings -- they can’t even trust each other with their feelings -- so they’re getting by on hanging out with each other because it’s either that or go off to be completely alone. As the two most “emotionally isolated” people in this group, there’s a wall between them and the others, and that wall is only slightly thinner between each other -- and you can even imagine that they’re willing to hang out with each other because they won’t be bothering that wall and causing intimidation.

And by the time we roll around to 02 episode 31, we learn that, this whole time, nothing has improved. Takeru sees that something is going on with Hikari, but does and says nothing -- perhaps because he’s not sure what to say, perhaps because he’s afraid of lashing out at her again, whatever it is -- but he can’t and won’t speak to her nor address her feelings.

In the end, the person who does establish that ability to “communicate” with Hikari is not Takeru but Miyako -- an aggressive, in-your-face, overly honest person who gets straight to the point and refuses to hold back, whose messy personality causes Hikari to become assertive in handling her and allows Hikari to finally vocalize one of her truly sensitive feelings, and who’s able to use her immense emotional sensitivity to identify what Hikari needs and break through to her.

But just because Miyako ended up being the person Hikari needs to move on past this issue does not mean Takeru’s role wasn’t important, nor that Miyako coming into Hikari’s life means that all of her relationships are inferior or pointless -- rather, a recurring element of 02′s portrayal of relationships is that everything has a ripple effect, and that “opening up” one person’s heart allows them to open up to others as well (see how Daisuke reaching out to Ken eventually helped him reach out to the others in the group, how even in this very same episode Miyako expresses that this experience helped her understand Ken better as well, how Daisuke’s experiences end up giving him a healthier relationship with the rest of the group, how Iori and Takeru’s Jogress ordeal helps them both become better at reaching out to Ken...). Unlike how they’d both closed off 02 episode 13, Hikari and Takeru end this one by talking -- with Hikari’s newfound confidence from her dealings with Miyako allowing her to more openly speak what she’s thinking with Takeru.

One thing you might notice is that after 02 episode 31, Takeru and Hikari are never seen going off on their own together for the rest of the series -- because, again, their “latching” onto hanging out with each other at the exclusion of anyone else was because they were that isolated from everyone else, but not anymore! Hikari starts to hang out more with Miyako as the two of them become more comfortable hanging out after the events of said episode; after all, Miyako had come to understand the real reason why Hikari “keeps so much inside” and that she needs to actively reach out to her, and Hikari is able to properly trust Miyako with her feelings, meaning that now that Hikari is starting to open up, she doesn’t need to fall back on her “truce” with Takeru to get by. Which ends up leaving Takeru rather alone for the following set of episodes. Well, seemingly alone, but...

...he’s not truly alone, because this is also where Iori realizes that there’s a lot more going on with Takeru and that he needs to make a proactive effort to understand him, and it doesn’t take long for Takeru to realize what Iori’s doing (especially when Yamato tips him off that Iori asked about him in 02 episode 35). Once again, very much unlike Hikari, Iori is straightforward and to-the-point, and is much better at cutting through all of the complicated layers Takeru puts up in an attempt to cover up his emotions.

The rest of the series has them in significantly more emotionally tense situations than before, and while the fact they end up spending the rest of the series with their respective Jogress partners instead of each other is partially sheer pragmatics, it’s also how the two of them start taking a more active role in actually checking on the others’ emotions and communicating with them in regards to their feelings. This is a huge deal -- compare this to back in 02 episode 13 when they were practically the only people willing to have this kind of serious, emotional conversation with each other -- and said attempt at a serious conversation exploded in their faces. (The other time one of them had made an attempt at something vaguely resembling a heart-to-heart during that time was 02 episode 11, which also resulted in Takeru blowing up explosively.) But here they’re capable of communicating clearly and openly and making their positions known in a way that gets through to their respective Jogress partners’ issues, without being stifled by anything.

But, again: just because they don’t “go off together” anymore doesn’t mean they stopped being important people to each other or comfortable around each other -- it’s just that now they’ve stopped wandering off together for the sake of blocking themselves away from others, and no longer trapped in this strange, paradoxical relationship of knowing-but-not-truly-knowing each other they had all the way back in 02 episode 13. The relationship they had back then was something built off of coping mechanisms, and not something you could truly say was healthy, not when their communication was stilted and Takeru had snapped at her so badly -- but both of them learning to open up more and be more honest with their feelings means that they may well have an actual healthy dynamic going forward.

And for all it’s worth, we learn that they’re still on very good terms by the time of Kizuna, getting breakfast together in the opening -- but it’s left ambiguous if their reason for doing so like this was because they still have a penchant for particularly hanging out together, or whether it was just circumstance because they were free to get breakfast after the Digimon incident (they act independently for the rest of the movie). Moreover, their relationships with the others in the 02 group are still going strong, because as per the drama CD, Takeru’s happy to hang out with Daisuke like it’s nothing and actively join in to reach out to Iori (it’s said Daisuke was approaching Iori “first” despite Takeru being there, so both of them were hanging out independently and decided to pick up Iori together), and Hikari comes in with Miyako, expressing a very firm intent to hang out with her for their trip, and ultimately it’s established that them not being with the rest of the group at the time of the movie was sheer scheduling circumstance and not necessarily them going out of their way to operate away from them.

So in other words, whatever relation you can say they have at this point, or their ability to get along, is not based on them falling back on each other as an unhealthy coping mechanism of silence, but one carried out in a more genuine manner.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 7/?: Catalysts

Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often, despite the frustrating paradox that is the male endocrine system’s apparent determination to make him do so. He finds it feels… empty, after. Like there’s supposed to be something more, but instead there’s just whatever is situated above his head to stare at while his breathing levels out, an interminable abyss of silence and stars, or tree foliage, or apartment ceiling. Impulses and feelings of a sexual nature are probably normal for anyone his age, but in the past, satiating desires like this has made him feel guilty, given the context.

When he's not plagued by nightmares rife with gore and blood and bodies, or the occasional aching memory, his subconscious takes the opportunity to bombard him with dreams of a suggestive nature, having deduced somehow that it’s the most effective method to get him to… tend to things.

This variety of dream customarily involves pale pink hair, multifaceted eyes, and soft fingertips, branded into the part of his brain that controls his most base instincts with a hot iron.

He notes begrudgingly as he gazes at plain plaster above him, brows furrowed, that ostensibly, it works well enough, if the intricate mess of thoughts and feelings in his head and on his abdomen are anything to go by.

Sasuke would never admit it to anyone, but Sakura has headlined exclusively in nearly every sexually-charged dream he's ever had, and resultingly the majority of his sentient thoughts while indulging outside of dreaming, too. When they were Genin, it was innocent enough; he had reasoned that, being the main girl his age he associated with, it made sense his inadvertent dreams, beyond the scope of his control, involved her. He'd shaken it off in those early days as the by-product of the developing hormonal cocktail that is the pubescent masculine mind, and ignored the part of himself that kind of had a crush on her even then. Or definitively more than a crush, after the Chunin Exams and the hospital and jealousy.

He had tried convincing himself of the same thing at fourteen, once he'd left the village and had attempted to sever all bonds. It didn’t work, though; by that point he knew better, knew what the feeling he was trying to squash actually was.

Which meant it didn’t work at fifteen, either.

Nor sixteen, and definitely not seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

All of that has been wholly indecent on its own in the past, causing him to feel shameful every time it happens, and even more ashamed if it’s a rare day where he’s weak enough to act on it, a day where he wakes up mere seconds from an edge rather than minutes.

But this morning, he woke up on the tail end of all of that with the addition of freckles , of all things to fixate on, and he just knows he's never going to forget about them now, that they’re branded into his grey matter in perpetuity. Freckles just above the interior of a shoulder, eight of them, a small scattering he had been pressing his lips to, listening to a softly whispered Sasuke-kun, reaching around her with his only arm, so he could make her say his name like that again.

It is far from the first time he’s touched himself to the thought of Sakura, but it is the first time he’s indulged since they’ve been… together.

Except this time felt… different.

Less like an unrealistic reverie he should try to abstain from and more like an eventuality. Less guilt, too, or rather, almost none, because he’s in a relationship with her now, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have feelings like this regarding her. Not that he is anywhere near ready to do anything about them, because he absolutely is not; he’s not certain he even comprehends that level of vulnerability, to touch another person and allow yourself to be touched by them, though he badly wants to, someday.

No, Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often… but he did this morning, when he woke up teetering just on the precipice, fantasizing about tiny tan flecks seen and unseen, and he’s trying to work through how he feels about it, this guilt surrounding the fact of not feeling guilty like he ordinarily does, as well as the lingering curiosity he’s struggling to force down regarding how many other freckles Sakura has.

Even moreso, he yearns for soft words that he has often thought may be sentimental to the point of being utterly quixotic. It's why he doesn’t typically submit to this kind of inclination in the first place; it’s meaningless on one’s own, he secretly thinks, though he has nothing to compare it to. No sense of connection or true lasting fulfillment like he imagines there must be, for people to talk about it the way they do; just pleasure that's there for a blinding scattered second and gone the next, with nothing tenderhearted or meaningful in the moments following as his vision refocuses and he picks up the pieces.

He stares at his ceiling, an aporia of longing and complicated compulsions ricocheting in the hallways of his head, or perhaps from his skull to the roof and back again, an absurd push and pull that leaves him with more questions than answers.

Has she ever thought about him the way he thinks about her?

What would it sound like, Sasuke-kun, when she’s like that?

Is it okay to feel like this, now? To think about her in this regard?

Sasuke is accustomed to not sleeping well - it comes with the territory of his lived experience, an unfortunate fact of life he’s somewhat learned to deal with - but during the mission to Sand, he'd slept fairly restfully, though in short increments of five or six hours. That's apparently the tipping point of how long he gets to go without being sojourned by some variety of vision in the night.

He eventually makes his way to the shower, using torrid water and soap to double cleanse what’s left of his mess. That's a big contributor to his consternation, too; it's so embarrassingly messy that it’s impossible to imagine ever doing anything like it with her . He flips the dial to cold after he’s bathed for the better portion of five minutes, because serpens caput is still burned into his retinas, and he’s hoping against hope to freeze it out of himself like he has tried to do with shame in the past.

It doesn’t work; it just induces shivering, algidity overwhelming the senses but doing nothing to distract the mind.

He shoves his face into his book after, desperate for the distraction a proverbial fiction featuring an old fisherman can provide and thinking once again that he needs to acquire a lamp. Anything to get the thought of pressing his lips to her freckles out of his head, because he’s pretty sure if he keeps thinking about it, he’ll have to take care of things for the second time today, and then he really won’t know how to feel.

So when a banging erupts on his apartment door shortly following eight, followed by a shout of, “TEME! I'm here, let’s go!”, all he can think is finally, because he knows it will at least get his mind off of this strange lack of guilt and a curiosity he’s not ready to unpack yet. The book helped, but he thinks he needs the challenge a fight against Naruto can provide to truly leave behind this level of prurience. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look her in the eye when they meet at three as they planned, otherwise.

Sasuke shoves on his sandals and grabs his chokuto before opening the door. “So you finally showed. Thought you'd sleep all morning.”

Naruto’s eyes narrow, indignant and already launching into a retort. Good. Maybe he’ll get some iota of order knocked back into him, enough to put compelling constellations away for the time being.

XXX

Sasuke feels monumentally better by noon. It’s another draw, an absolute whirlwind of swinging limbs that made it impossible to focus on anything else. He didn’t take joy in it necessarily, and he suspects Naruto bruised his ulna bone to the extent it almost cracked, but it helps, the diversion of pain; the tinge he feels when he moves it is a welcome hindrance. They’d stuck mainly to taijutsu and clashing weaponry, so physically, he’s pretty exhausted.

They’re resting in the dirt, making a valiant attempt at rehydrating. It’s moderately hot for this time of year, barely on the cusp of mid April, but it’s seeming like the Konoha heat will be returning with the same vengeance it always does. A small trickle of sweat sinks its way down his back.

Sasuke feels nearly normal again. Or normal to the extent he generally feels, anyways. He gets the urge to do something good - to tip the scale, so to speak.

"...The cutting board works. Thank you." It’s not what he’s most thankful for right now, but it’s a nice thing to say as substitution.

His friend grins at him. "Welcome! It was all me, by the way. Hinata-chan didn't even help me pick it out!" Naruto scratches his head, downing more water. He’s moving rather slowly, as if he is sore, too; Sasuke thinks perhaps he came close to beating him this round.

They stare upwards for a while, soaking in the sun as clouds roll lazily by. Birds fly overhead, finches and song sparrows twittering their selections, collecting materials to build more nests for this new season. It’s another effective distraction, one that fills him with a sense of nostalgia, replacing his earlier sense of compunction regarding the mystifying concept of physical love and the whims that accompany it.

Naruto speaks up after a bit. "Ne, teme, wanna go to the market with me? Hinata-chan asked me to get some groceries and some stuff for the backyard."

Sasuke glances at his teammate and contemplates. It can't hurt. He did want to pick up potatoes to make actual curry with, and he could get some other things, too. He'll still have time to shower before he meets Sakura at the hospital.

"...Sure."

Naruto takes longer to rise than he does, shuffling carefully as if he is in pain, but once he’s standing, he seems fine enough, stupid grin slapped on his face at Sasuke’s agreement to go with. They set off in the general direction of his building so he can drop off his weapon first. He gets dirty looks sometimes, walking around, though it’s not nearly as bad as when he first returned and it doesn’t bother him on the same level that it used to. When he’s with Naruto or Sakura, he gets less of them, but he can't imagine a sword strapped to his back in the market will do much to help his reputation.

Naruto doesn't allow the easy silence to last. "Y'know, teme, it's really good to have you back in the village. It feels like everything's finally coming together. We'll have to do some fun stuff this summer. And also in the fall!” Gears are turning behind cerulean eyes, and he adds, ”...Hmm, and the winter, too!"

"...Yeah." He stares at the mountain, thinking about what cherry blossom trees look like in summer and fall and winter. It will be nice to see the one across the street change colors throughout the seasons. Or the one on the hill, where they're going later today. He has seen their like numbering in the thousands, scattered everywhere on his journey - he’s highly cognizant of them, for obvious reasons - but he hasn’t been granted the privilege of watching the same one through the whole of a year’s growth cycle in a long time.

"Sakura-chan seems really cheery lately, too. Can't imagine why." The second sentence is said flippantly, without any real conviction, as if Naruto knows exactly why.

Sasuke glances at his teammate, neck warming and heart skipping a little at the mention of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that Sakura is happy from secondhand sources; it makes him feel like he’s doing something right for once. Maybe not all his impulses are complicated in nature enough to require dissection, as he was accustomed to doing when he was away; spending time with her is one, and he's been indulging it often.

He briefly entertains the idea of outright telling Naruto that they're together, then, but the dobe is moving on before he comes up with the words. "Well, anyways. Wanna spar Monday morning, if neither of us get a mission by then?”

That’s… specific. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything to him, after all; he’s sure it’s no coincidence that Naruto is asking about the exact time period Sakura is busy training with Ino, probably as aware of her schedule as Kakashi is. Their old sensei might have told him, he supposes, or maybe Sakura said something; Sasuke wonders when he last saw her.

“...Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

The response he gets is a slug on the left shoulder, but it’s not overly hard. Sasuke narrows his eyes in response more out of habit than any real malice. He sees as Naruto’s hand retreats and slips out of a fist that words are written on his palm. He didn’t notice it throughout the morning due to their hands constantly being locked around weapons or thrown in punches, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes; it's likely a grocery list.

Naruto leans against the brick downstairs while Sasuke drops off his sword, and then they head to the main market area as the dobe chatters. It’s fairly busy, it being a Saturday, but it’s not intolerably so; most people are busy eating around now.

Sasuke is completely unsurprised when Naruto beelines straight for the noodles; naturally he would be out of them. He takes the opportunity to procure a blend of wild rice. Thus far he only has white and brown in his own pantry, and he’s been trying to eat it often. He's always liked rice, but it’s high in calories, too, an easy way to try putting on weight. Another variety to choose from would be beneficial.

He trails after his friend to the baking supplies next, where Naruto examines containers of flour and sugar. Sasuke concludes Hinata must bake, because he’s confident any cookie prepared by the dobe could not possibly be edible. While his teammate is occupied, Sasuke turns the corner and procures a half dozen eggs, a large bag of potatoes, and two different varieties of tomatoes. The extra five pounds of weight held in the crook of his arm doesn’t do wonders for his bruised bone situation, but it’s not wholly unbearable; he’s fairly used to dealing with pain.

“Hinata-chan said to go to the gardening stall on the north end,” Naruto says once they’ve paid and exited the building, so they begin a course in that general direction. “She said they have the best perennial bulbs; that means they come back every year!”

Sasuke twitches, surprised he can even pronounce the word perennial if he’s lived this long without knowing what one is.

“Anyways, she wants to plant some, uh…” His voice trails off, and he peeks at his hand, where Sasuke now sees the names of flowers written in feminine writing that has to be Hinata’s.

Of course. Like he could spell the words, let alone read his own sloppy handwriting.

“Iris, phlox, and uh… echo-na-na-chee-ah.”

“Echinachea,” Sasuke corrects dully, giving him a withering look.

“Sure! That! She wants to plant those in the backyard, kind of line the house with them, since the front is looking pretty nice now. She said to get bulbs; they root better. They might bloom this year, but if not, they’ll for sure come in next year!”

“...And she entrusted you with this?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto just laughs, utterly unphased. “Duh, that’s what the list is for, teme. Hinata-chan is super smart like that. Putting it on my hand makes sure I don’t lose it!”

They meander to the northern edge of the market, past the congregation of other stalls selling seeds and garden starters. It's getting towards the end of planting season for Fire Country, but there is still plenty to choose from here, allegorical gates of green swinging open in salutation. They pass some tomato plant starters, already starting to climb their cages, but Sasuke decides against it; his hand is full presently, and the bone still kind of hurts, and none of them are red heirloom tomatoes anyways, being smaller variations like plum or cherry or grape. He likes all tomatoes, honestly, but if he was going to grow one, he’d just want the one of a favorite to worry about. Repotting a starter would also require a planter, which he doesn’t have; another thing to carry.

The stall Naruto leads them to is probably the nicest one there, judiciously laid out and everything labeled neatly with precise calligraphy. The few tables the vendor has are overflowing with perennial starters, but Naruto goes to the three vertical displays of seeds and bulbs, so tall they are at eye level with both of them. They’re filled to the brim with diminutive packages, printed with large pictures of the flowers they contain the beginnings of, along with genus names and common names in smaller text. The blond examines them, surveying his hand, then the display, then back to his hand again in scrutiny.

Sasuke watches, resisting the urge to sigh and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hmm… I guess this would be a lot easier if I knew what any of these looked like. Gonna have to read them all.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and steps forward to point to the section of iris bulbs to start with. He gives him a minute to work out which colors to pick, observing the throng of people entering and exiting around them, young and old and in-between.

Phlox are next; he directs his teammate to the appropriate section, where there are quite a few options of hues. Naruto examines them as if he is making a grand decision transformative in nature, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm… She likes blue and purple. Maybe I should…”

His own gaze wanders as he tunes Naruto out, taking in pictures of begonias and caladium on plastic shiny in the sunlight, before his vision locks on the far display.

He wanders over to it as if his body is moving of its own accord.

There are several varieties of lilies, he learns as he scans the packaging, oriental, trumpet, and what is apparently called nerine. White nerine lilies had been the variety his mother grew, lining their yard with curved porcelain petals, clusters emanating from many single stems.

He sets his groceries at his feet to free up his hand, picking up one of the packages to read the instructions on the back. His arm aches as he does so, but he couldn’t care less.

Nerine lily bulbs require good drainage. If there are still puddles in the prospective planting area 5-6 hours after rain, locate another site, or amend the soil with organic material to raise levels 2-3 inches. Nerine lilies also require soil that is somewhat gritty, though it also must be organically rich. Adding compost may increase nutrient content.

In spring, choose a location in full sun. If you are in a hotter region, site them where they will receive morning sun and afternoon shade, and plant the bulbs with an inch of the slender top above the soil surface. The top of the bulb is the area that looks like the stem of an onion. Install bulbs 8 to 11 inches apart for a massed look.

Nerine bulbs develop foliage that gather sun rays and strengthen the plants during the spring and summer months. Flower stalks develop in the fall. Provide water when the plants are actively growing, and very little when they are dormant.

You may cut the final flower stems to display decoratively. This will not hurt the plants and the cuts last long periods of time indoors. After they finish blooming for the year, cut off any remaining flower stalks. Your plants will rest for the winter months before sending up new growth in the springtime. Over time, nerine lilies will form clumps. They like to be crowded, so don’t feel pressed to divide them unless flower production begins to decrease. Clumps can then be dug, split apart, and moved to other parts of the garden, or shared with friends.

When Sasuke looks up, deep in thought, he notices Naruto searching for what he assumes is echinacea, flitting stiffly at random between the first two displays and scratching his head. Wordlessly with the package of lily bulbs still in hand, Sasuke points to the bottom right corner of the first, where several color selections are.

“Thanks, teme!” Naruto plows back to the specified stand and stoops down comically slowly, though Sasuke barely sees, gaze drawn pensively back to the packet he was examining.

The memorial stone has decent drainage, aside from the occasional hard rain like last weekend; that will become less common as the weather warms, and one or two monsoons a summer never drowned his mother’s lilies. Shade in the afternoon could be an issue, though. There’s a large oak tree on the west side that might cast some protection over it, but he only ever visits under the cover of night, so he’s unsure. He would have to examine the trajectory in person to gauge.

He considers the market bag the groceries were handed to him in earlier, studying it closely.

Carefully, he puts the package back where he found it, though his eyes linger on it. He’s no gardener, not like Sakura is, and besides, his arm hurts.

XXX

He’s leaning up against one of the blue columns outside of the hospital when Sakura emerges at three, sprightly as ever. She’s holding the two journals and the medical text from their first trip to the library; she said yesterday that she needed to return them, but there shouldn’t be any new ones she needs to check out just yet. He hadn’t stayed terribly long after they’d finished the tenmusu because he needed to shower and write his mission report, but they’d made plans to swing by the library and journey back up the hillside to read together again. There was also mention of possibly picking up food afterwards, to take to her place. Hazel Wood must be in her tote, hooked around her shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets cheerfully. “Whew. It’s getting warm out already.”

“...It is,” Sasuke comments before he extends his hand for her texts, his own already held there, a silent offer to carry them for her.

She blushes as she passes them to him, sliding them into his hand. His eyes drift to the freckle on her cheek, and he wipes his mind blank by sheer willpower alone as they head east. The books aren’t as heavy as the groceries had been earlier, so it doesn’t hurt as much, but he's wondering at this point if the bone might actually have a small crack. He thinks he should ask her to look at it; maybe later, at her apartment.

“My balcony days may be numbered by now, at least until the fall comes,” Sakura observes as they meander.

He contemplates. “...Do you sit out there often?” It is so utterly befitting of her that he thinks he can picture it, her reading out there, surrounded by plants. He wonders if she ever admires the night sky. Their team had stargazed sometimes, on missions that first year as Genin.

Green eyes settle on him from his right. “I like to, when it’s nice out. A lot of times in the summer it gets too hot, though there is an occasional night when it’s cool enough. Fall is really the best for it. You can see the changing leaves from above. Even if it's a chillier day, it’s pleasant with some tea and a blanket in the evening."

He debates for a long moment, but decides against bringing up stout squirrels or chestnut-flavored everything or Naruto slipping on a leaf.

“...It sounds nice,” he comments simply instead, wondering if he’ll be invited to sit with her on her balcony, once fall arrives. They would have to sit kind of close; the space doesn’t seem very big from below, and it's cluttered with greenery.

Sakura smiles up at him, a look that says she agrees with his assessment.

Then, she offers softly, "You can sit out there sometime with me, if you'd like."

His neck warms; all he can do is nod and avert his gaze elsewhere, an abundance of something tender and sweet flaring to life in his belly.

Returning the books barely takes two minutes; they’re wandering towards the outskirts of the mountain in short order. Sakura sprawls in the same spot she did last time, so he takes up the same position, too, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, stable and strong.

And then his eyes catch on another freckle she has, this one near her elbow, and all he can think about is the slightly textured consistency of his ceiling, and whether the impulse to press his lips to her skin without guilt was an okay thing to feel.

She reads and he more contemplates than reads for about an hour, sprawled beneath the scant amount of shade provided by this tree that has lost its petals, trading them in for florets of a greener variety. It’s pleasant, once he can drown his inner disarray of thoughts. He eventually gets through a sliver of his book, though turning the pages is a little cumbersome, tinged lightly with pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until later to ask her to examine his arm.

Sakura finishes her own book, though she keeps the pressed petal between its pages; she must have gotten through more of it while he was on the way to and from Suna. She just reclines there, after, looking up at the sky with her arms at her sides, near exactly the relaxed pose she used to lie in when they were younger.

Sasuke finishes the passage he’s on, and marks his place with the petal she’d plucked from his hair last week, before pointedly setting the text aside and following her eyes to the azure. Fluffy clouds are floating by as the sun inches closer to the west horizon, pushed steadily by the breeze.

“How is Ichika’s recommendation?” She questions.

“...Interesting.” He genuinely is enjoying reading it, despite his aberration.

Her head angles towards him, lying against a gnarled root at a slightly different angle. Her expression is curious, like she’s encouraging him to elaborate.

“Simple, but heavy with metaphors.” He considers for a second, then adds, “You might like it. Poetic.”

Full lips twist upwards. “Maybe I’ll read it next. Her recommendations are usually pretty apt; she gets a good read on people.”

“...How was yours?”

“Hmm.” She pauses, as if thinking it over. “A girl and her mother who get caught up in some bad luck. They inherit an estate - that’s where the title comes from - and supernatural things start happening. It’s kind of a story within a story situation; the grandmother they inherited the house from was an author, so they start going back and reading her writing for clues.”

“...A mystery.” It seems like she’ll read any genre. Mysteries would probably entertain her; she’s always liked to solve things.

She laughs, music to his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. It was pretty good. Well written; better than the last one.”

There is a pause.

“...Maybe I’ll read it next,” he echoes, her same words from earlier.

Green sparkles at him, amused before she shifts back towards the firmament.

“...Sounds like a book club.”

It is the most Sakura joke. He huffs a ghost of a laugh as more gauzy clouds drift idly by. It is peaceful, sitting here underneath the same sky as her, observing in easy silence through branches with fresh emerald buds.

And then Sasuke flexes his forearm, shifting slightly, and it still hurts. He considers; she probably won’t mind.

"...I think Naruto cracked my arm bone," he finally confides.

She turns to him, expression fluctuating immediately into one of disquiet, pink brows knotting closer in concern. He blinks and she's standing already, walking over and sitting cross-legged in the nearest open space, an indent in gnarled roots that she navigated through and found a place in as if it were nothing.

Wordlessly, Sasuke holds it out for her to inspect once she’s seated, and she gently rests her fingertips on his forearm.

"It’s from this morning?” Sakura asks, looking concerned in a way that makes his heart thump a little. Or maybe it’s from her hands encircling his skin.

He nods; she must have deduced that they trained earlier. She prods gently before threading green chakra beneath his skin towards the bone, probing for a break.

She frowns. "Oblique fracture in the ulna, though it's very slight and non-displaced.” Her gaze flicks up to him, and all at once, it’s the exam room again, him hyper aware of how close she is to him even though this is clinician Sakura. “I’ll fix it; you really shouldn't have been carrying anything on it."

It takes him a moment to realize she’s referring to him carrying her books earlier, because he’s thinking about the groceries from the market, which were definitively heavier. Her proximity and the aroma of tart berry and the freckle on her cheekbone are all incredibly distracting. Especially the freckle. He peers at her fingers, glowing verdant, and notices one on the inner portion of her right wrist, too.

"...Sorry." He says finally, flicking his eyes back up to her nervously after a long minute is spent mending marrow back together. She inclines her head back down to his arm, apparently accepting his apology for not mentioning it sooner. It's an odd sensation; he can feel the crack fusing from the inside out, ataractic chakra seeping into the diaphysis to fortify.

He feels like he should clarify, so he adds as she works, eyes fixed on her face which has settled in concentration, “I thought it was just bruised at first.” She nods as if that makes sense, working on it for another minute or so without glancing up.

He hopes she's not mad at him. Sasuke shifts his gaze downwards, something in him sinking.

“Flex it, then bend, please,” she requests, not moving her digits; she must need to feel the arm move to determine if it’s healed. He does as she asks and it’s notedly improved, no lingering pain.

“It’s better. Thank you.” He looks upwards just as she does, hoping the jade will still be soft on charcoal.

It is, startlingly so, and she’s flushing all of a sudden, dropping her hands from his arm and rising to her feet a step away, as if she, too, just realized how close they were. It's different here, daylight and not part of their routine like her entryway is becoming.

“You’re welcome,” she says somewhat hastily, complexion darkening. He’s not sure he’s much better; his neck is warm, and he remembers very specifically where each of her fingers had just been on his skin, like the ten points of contact are singed into his epidermis, and likely his grey matter, too.

As he tries to force his pulse to even out, Sakura adds, softly, “You could have just come in with him.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “...What?”

Sakura blinks, countenance appearing as if she is sorting through a problem in her head. Pink dissolves back to her normal coloring.

“Naruto came in with a slipped back rib, earlier today. I assumed it was from sparring with you.” She rolls her eyes, then. “He went and got groceries before coming in; he had them with him. Luckily nothing chilled; he had to wait for a bit.”

"...He didn't say anything about his rib." Now the slow rising and crouching is making more sense.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second as if something has become clear, but she only replies, "Ah. Of course."

"...Wouldn’t shut up?"

"...Yeah." She turns away slightly, cheeks stained anew for some reason; it makes him curious what their third teammate babbled to her about. "He said as I was kicking him out that he was going to plant flower bulbs with Hinata this afternoon. He showed me the ones he picked. It’s good timing; the perfect time of year to plant some. Pretty soon it'll be too warm."

He lets those words drizzle slowly into his being, a little gentler than a summer monsoon.

"...Our next Hokage can't pronounce echinacea," he eventually tells her.

She chuckles with mirth, a sweet sound he finds relieving; she must have gathered he was present for that endeavor, now, and she can't be too mad at him if he can still make her laugh. Sasuke inwardly hopes she doesn’t gather that he also got groceries; he doesn’t think she’d be very impressed. It was kind of stupid to do that with a questionable arm, in retrospect.

"No," Sakura acknowledges finally, appearing highly entertained. "And he didn’t know what a perennial was until this morning, yet he’s planting an army of them. Probably without reading the directions."

They look over the village together for a lengthy moment in which he considers text printed on the back of a white package.

Then she says his name, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. "Sasuke-kun.”

He angles to her, and sweet jade is on him again, ebbing seafoam cresting as the late afternoon sunlight hits her.

"Thank you for telling me about your arm. In the future, please come to the hospital, if I'm working. You can wait in my office, if you’d prefer. I don't mind; use the window.” Her expression changes to troubled, and suddenly she is no longer the clinician version of Sakura; everything is tinged with something more, something that burns him in its intensity. “You shouldn’t just… suffer in silence, if something hurts. Even if you think it’s nothing. Please tell me."

Oh. She’s not mad, just worried. Heat grazes his ears, and he swallows, staring down at his forearm.

He wants to be close to her. He really does.

"Okay,” he agrees, and means it, carefully meeting green.

They head down the hill together to seek dinner before the rush hits, deciding to go to the yakitori stand she mentioned when he first returned. She chatters about how Naruto wants to have a bonfire in his backyard, once summer’s here and everything is planted.

“...He’s excited about his yard,” Sasuke comments after they’ve ordered, leaning against the wall of the exterior waiting for their takeout. He requested his without the sauce, since Sakura said it’s on the sweeter side for yakitori.

Sakura grins, and she’s really pretty, shadows of a nearby tree dappling her skin, cheeks still red because he paid. It’s only fair; she’s been feeding him. “Yeah, he is. I’d like to see their flowers and garden in the back, eventually. I’m sure once they’ve got it how they want it, they’ll have all kinds of get-togethers back there. Last year we carved pumpkins at their place, instead of at Ino’s and Sai’s; there’s less mess to clean up if it’s outside. He said today that you should come this year.”

“...What?”

She blinks as if remembering something, then smiles sheepishly. “So I never mentioned this, because it happened after I…” She flushes, and she looks away for a second. “...After I sent a letter for the month already, but Sai learned about this artistic thing they do in the Land of Woods, a couple years ago.” Her gaze shifts back to his. “They hollow out pumpkins and carve designs into them, in late October. Warding off evil spirits as they go into the cooler season or something; they put them on their doorsteps with candles in them so the carvings light up the night. It’s odd, but I think it’s become a tradition now. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it. We roast the seeds with salt and Hinata bakes pumpkin bread.”

That sounds entirely odd and completely characteristic of Sai; he supposes there is the artistic angle to consider. Sasuke passed through the Land of Woods three separate times, but never in the fall. “What kind of designs?”

She smiles as if she’s trying not to laugh; his expression must be that of one who is exceedingly perplexed. He supposes it’s not an expression he wears often. “Well, they’re supposed to be scary, I think, but we don’t really do well at making them that way. They’re more funny or decorative. Sai makes pretty good ones, I guess, mean faces with sharp teeth.”

“...What do you carve?”

Her eyes twinkle. “I tried a leaf, the first year, and a crescent moon the second. Sai and I teamed up to carve one for Kakashi-sensei, too, last year; a scarecrow with a cat.”

A crescent moon is not at all what he would have guessed she’d gravitate towards; he thinks immediately of the Six Paths Yin Seal that once adorned a hand he no longer has. Then he comprehends the final part of that sentence.

“...A cat?”

“Oh. Yeah, he got a cat.”

“...His summons are dogs.”

She giggles. “Yeah, Naruto and I thought it was weird at first, too, but he does kind of seem like he’d be more of a cat person overall, the more we thought about it.” Sakura shrugs. “He’s in the village most of the time now, being Hokage, so I guess he thought he could be around enough to take care of one? They’re more low-maintenance than a dog would be. I usually get tasked with feeding it and changing its litter, when he travels to watch the Chunin and Jonin Exams.”

Momentarily, he wonders if Sakura knows what’s under Kakashi’s mask; their old sensei allowing her into his space in his absence may have given her opportunities for some form of low-key reconnaissance on the matter.

Then his brain seizes on another notion, one that’s far more amusing, because she said she teamed up with Sai, and that can only mean one thing.

“...What does Naruto carve?”

Sakura’s grin widens as if she perceives exactly what thought he’s just had. She probably does; she knows him well. “He’s terrible at it. His never look like anything; just orange mush. He loves it, though, and Hinata puts it on their front step anyway.”

He snorts. Figures.

A bell dings, so they peer back in, and sure enough, their food is ready. Sakura steps forward to collect it, thanking the worker, but as she turns, she pauses.

Sasuke follows her gaze, and sees none other than their third teammate in the street, walking their direction and waving emphatically. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, knees absolutely covered in dirt and grass stains.

“Oi, teme! Sakura-chan!”

Sakura glances up to him before swiveling towards the road, their food in hand; Sasuke trails close behind, pushing apart the hanging banners of the stand as he steps beyond the threshold of the restaurant.

“Naruto,” Sakura greets when they’re out in the open.

“...Dobe.”

“Looks like you’ve planted everything,” Sakura says more than asks, gesturing to his pants as evidence.

“Hehe, yep, all of ‘em! It was work, but it will be worth it, later in the year.” Naruto scratches his head, grinning. Sasuke lets those words sink in, too, drenching dead roots.

“And now you’re getting Hinata yakitori as a treat?” Sakura pushes, seeming incredibly amused.

“Well…” Naruto looks away bashfully, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah. Gotta repay her somehow. She has good ideas. I just follow her lead.” He looks back to them, then. “Did you tell teme about all our awesome plans?”

Sasuke’s focus falls to Sakura, who is flushed, biting her lip in a smile.

“I may have started to.”

“Well, good, because our yard is going to be totally the best, and if he thinks he’s getting out of it...” the dobe points at him accusingly, “Then I’ll kick his ass!”

Sasuke scoffs. “As if you could.”

Sakura shakes her head, pink locks fluttering with the motion. “Always with the physicalities... Anyways, I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.”

An uncommonly stretched pause passes where blue eyes zero in on the food container Sakura is holding, before they travel up to the two of them.

The grin shifts to something remarkably tender.

“...Yeah. I’m sure it will be.” He says it with the utmost confidence, like he is as certain about it as he is about the sun rising tomorrow, and Sasuke gets the sense that he is no longer referring to gardening.

The moment passes, and then Naruto is punching them each on the shoulder respectively and sidestepping away towards the yakitori stand. “Anyways, gotta go, so I’ll catch ya later! I’m guessing you have plans of your own.”

Sasuke blinks as their teammate disappears into the restaurant, ears burning a little. When his vision travels down to his right, Sakura is blushing a dark red. She meets his gaze, smiling sheepishly.

They turn to go to her building. The entire way there, Sasuke considers everything in the beginnings of a green that seems endless, nurtured by people from all walks of life. He has been noticing it this whole time, since his return, but now he's thinking about how dull it would be without it, whether it’s dirt roads or lifeless grey granite. This is not the wilds, where seeds sprout unabated. Here, one must put in the work to grow things, find suitable locations and till the soil.

When they reach Sakura’s apartment, his eye lingers on her plants as he follows her inside. She sets the takeout on the table by her window. A shadow of a leaf from the jasmine above them is cast hazily out of focus on her left cheek.

“Would you like any sauce with yours? I could make some teriyaki sauce quick, or I have lemons I’ll be cutting up anyway for mine.”

“...Lemon?” Citrus complements chicken, he knows, but he understands that to mean she’s planning on putting it on hers, over top of the yakitori sauce.

Her lips curve upwards. “I like it on other things, too. It’s good on yakitori.”

So Sakura slices a lemon and it sits on the center of the table between them as they eat. She drizzles her yakitori with three of them, and he takes the other three. The chicken is pretty good, tart with the citrus and seared alongside green onions. It’s still warm, as it wasn’t a long walk to her place at all, a convenient sort of sustenance.

“...What else do you like lemon on?”

She chews thoughtfully, swallowing before answering. “Hmm, a lot of things. Fish, even ones that are usually served with lime. Pork. I like it on vegetables, too. Salads, pasta, rice. Most desserts that include lemon I like, as well.” She pauses again, and adds, “Lemonade, if it’s homemade.”

No wonder they’re always in her fridge. “...And tea.”

His heart flips at the way she smiles at him.

“...And tea,” she agrees.

They watch the streets fill and empty from her window, finishing the meal in a companionable reticence, smelling faintly of citrus rind and shadowed by greenery from above.

He helps her prepare decaffeinated sencha after, trying not to stare at the freckle on her cheek. He’s pondering this morning further, the notions of impetus and yearning, and also the way she says his name, but this time uttered softly under a cherry blossom tree with an invitation into her office, if something hurts.

Sakura cares about him. A lot. Sasuke knows this, has known for years, but it’s the actions of her affection, the way she expresses it purely and simply as if it’s a true north cascading through her veins, that has inched its way into his bone marrow, engraved on the latibule he carved inwardly to avoid dry swallowing life’s more bitter medicines.

As she stirs sugar and honey into her own cup, she asks, “Care for a chess rematch?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it; he nods his assent. It’s time to test something.

They arrange the board together at her table. The first round, Sasuke cautiously plans every move, surveying alternating squares and attempting to predict what strategy Sakura will employ. In some instances, he mirrors her, moving a rook a turn after she does, shifting a pawn out of imminent danger, and so on. It’s a very involved way to play, requiring attentive calculation of each move.

It’s a prolonged match that he eventually loses with a final sweeping motion of her remaining bishop, but it’s fairly close.

“...Again?”

She grins and wordlessly starts setting up the pieces she has captured, so he begins to set up hers. It’s an interesting task, a message of opposites, her setting up his dark figures and him setting up her light ones.

The second round, he simply follows his instincts, negating planning ahead farther than a couple of turns. If he gets an impulse to shift a pawn one way, he does. If his gut tells him to move the knight into her territory or to retreat a rook, he goes with it.

It drags on for the better part of an hour, and ends in a stalemate.

The smile she gives him is breathtaking, a broad and warmhearted validation.

“You’re good,” she comments, jade eyes dancing with joy. He gets the impression that it is not often she gets forced into a draw. He wonders who else she plays with. It can't be Naruto, but maybe Sai or Ino also play.

“...So are you.” He is somewhat reassured now. His impulses used to be ruinous, stemming from anger and anxiety and loss, but perhaps his journey helped in that regard. He just needs to make sure they're rooted in the right things, whether it be logic or affection, and then the major task becomes to feel rather than to overthink.

When he kisses her good night in her entryway, another movie watched and plans for tomorrow later, he doesn’t reach for the freckle the first time, though his hand twitches with the longing to. It’s treasured, this tender pressing of lips that feels like dipping a toe into still water. It is imbued with both of her hands resting on his shoulders again, ten fingertips that have him in her grip more than she could possibly fathom.

He studies her eyes when he pulls away, staring down into soft depths of viridescence. He will drown in them someday, he thinks, slowly but surely working up the courage to wade into the deep end.

The second time he kisses her, he lets himself graze her cheek to truly appreciate the difference, allowing acknowledgment of the impulse, compelled forward rather than backward as if bound by some metaphorical form of northern star situated on the rise of her cheekbone.

Sakura leans into his touch once more as she did yesterday, but this time, she brings up her own hand and delicately lets her fingertips rest atop the outside of his, as if she encourages the caress, thumb brushing against his knuckle as his lips gently brush hers. Her other hand stays resting on his clavicle, a tender embrace, osculant in a way he has hoped for countless times, inclusive of this morning.

It is exactly what he needed, a catalyst of encouragement comprised of a heat that is gentle, coaxing, but still brands him all the same.

Maybe it's okay to want to skim her freckles and more, to allow the affinities he has to breathe. They’re together now; it stands to reason they'll one day venture into territory more uncharted, if he can concede to that kind of vulnerability. Not that he’s anywhere near ready for that - he’s not - but his instincts don’t appear to be all disastrously calamitous. Touching her cheek is something she clearly welcomes.

Sasuke gave in to darker tendencies once. Perhaps it's okay to give in to lighter ones; nothing grows in the absence of light, after all. He brushes a thumb across the high point of her cheekbone once more with her hand encompassing his before they part, embracing a new habit prior to whispering good night.

The way she smiles up at him, skin aflush and glimmering eyes, is everything.

XXX

He inspects the stone and the soil surrounding it for a long while, heavy-heartedly trying to ignore the encyclopedia of names in favor of envisioning what it would look like with lilies surrounding it. Less lugubrious, probably. The trajectory of the tree’s shadow would touch the stone in the evening, he sees, now that he’s here in person. He only ever haunts this place after nightfall when there's less chance of someone happening upon him. He wishes it was more secluded for that reason; maybe healing happens in the sunshine, and that’s why he still struggles with coming here after so many years, creature of the night that he is.

Evenings with Sakura feel like healing, though, and they linger after hours consistently. Maybe next time he’ll visit his dead kin at twilight, a brittle sort of compromise.

He'll see if the impulse still grips him tomorrow, and then decide. He knows his mother would like them. Itachi would, too, although it never feels like he's here, not the same way that it feels like the rest of them are, the air weighted with an accursed brand of perfume pouring outward in all directions.

White lilies may be able to touch the light in his stead for the time being. Even if they don’t grow, he at least will know he tried, and there is always next year. By then, he may have the capability of asking Sakura if she would help him; she’s clearly a capable gardener, and there should be less sediment, if he puts in the work.

By the time he leaves for his apartment, a thin layer has loosened.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Yeah, forget side content, just gonna steam on ahead with the Sports Festival and onwards. I might not actually stop and start trying to do overarching plot stuff until ~chapter 100 (more specifically, post ch 97, the last chapter of the Kamino Arc) because then there will be enough material to actually like. Do stuff. Might also have something smaller after the Sports Festival since that’s ~chapter 50. Shrugs.

Anyways, onwards. Don’t you miss the days when the main trio of the series was Izuku, Tenya, and Ochako? Man, don’t I. :(

[No. 22 - That’s the Idea, Ochako!]

Character sheet! I am honestly laughing super hard at everything because just. ‘Very Ochako.’ Thank you, Horikoshi. A few things about the sheet:

1) god I love that her fingerpads are called soft. Like. Actual cat paw pad fingers going on here. just imagine if you like pressed one of them like you do with cat paw pads and like, she had cat claws that would extend. cute but also menacing.

2) strong legs. leg day squad. her, izuku, and iida all doing leg day workouts together tho... katsuki wishes he had the leg strength of those three y'all

3) That quirk description… that’s not quite how centrifugal forces work, but I mean. Superhero comic physics. At least he made an attempt at explaining her quirk. 

Anyways, onto the actual chapter.

We open up in a staff meeting in a conference room at UA, with Tsukauchi presenting the results of the police investigations. He states that the one called Shigaraki has a quirk that allows him to disintegrate anything he touches. They (the police) have been through the list of men in their twenties and thirties in the quirk registry with no luck - and nothing turned up on the ‘warp gate’ user Kurogiri either. With neither registered, both using aliases, and no quirk records, they’re pretty much confirmed to be members of the underworld.

God sorry, I’m just distracted with the sheer size difference between Toshinori and Nedzu here.

What the fuck. Why did you put the largest person in the room next to the smallest?

Whatever. Snipe surmises that they know next to nothing, but they need to learn fast, or the leader of the villains, Shigaraki, will heal up and be back again. Toshinori is thoughtful as he mulls over the use of ‘leader’, which Nedzu catches quickly and inquires into. Probably still heavily banking on Toshinori’s instincts here since he was technically right about his bad feeling about the USJ just two days before.

I mean, how it has to sting Nedzu that all his state of the art systems meant to keep out intruders and alert UA to situations on campus failed at the critical moment, while Toshinori’s instincts on something being wrong had been absolutely on point and, if Nedzu had let him go, might have solved the situation that much sooner.

(I mean, there’s arguments for what could have happened if All Might did arrive early, so. Shrugs.)

And so we get into the segment I like to fondly consider a prime example of the fact that yes, Toshinori does in fact have a 6/6 intelligence score for a reason. 

He brings up how nothing about the situation feels normal. It was an especially daring attack - and not just in the meticulous planning! Shigaraki had started going on about some ridiculous ideology… and though he didn’t say anything about his own quirk, he couldn’t keep himself from bragging about the nomu’s quirk. And when things didn’t go his way? He threw a tantrum. Toshinori then admits with grit teeth and clenched fist that the business about quirks was meant to provoke him, and that it did hurt.

Nedzu says that even so, it’s foolish for villains to reveal quirks in a battle against heroes and so waste the element of surprise. 

Toshinori surmises his previous observations about Shigaraki - spouting a plausible yet deluded ideology, bragging about the toy he brought along, simple-mindedly assuming all would go his way. If they thought about how the attack was carried out, it seems clear that Shigaraki couldn’t hide his childish nature, the sense that he does what he wants, and then flat-out calls him a man-child.

Vlad King sums up Toshinori’s words as Shigaraki being a kid with too much power. Midnight adds on how Shigaraki might never have received general quirk counseling in elementary school; Vlad wonders whether that even matters. 

Tsukauchi steps back into the conversation to give the rest of the arrest results - a total of 72 villains were apprehended at the USJ. He states that all of them were just back-alley thugs, but the question is why so many of them would agree to follow this ‘man-child.’ He points out that modern society is saturated with heroes, so small-time villains like them, who always get kicked around, might have been drawn in by that sort of pure, unaffected evil. 

Toshinori having a flashback here, though his expression… I wonder if he’s having doubts already. And honestly, that flashback bit has me wonder just how common ‘uncontrollable’ quirks really are… and what COUNTS as ‘uncontrollable’ in their society. 

To avoid a longer derail, Tsukauchi finishes up by saying that thanks to the heroes, the police can focus on their investigation. They’ll expand their search and devote efforts to apprehending the perpetrators. 

Nedzu finishes out the scene by musing over the use of ‘man-child,’ stating that in one way, Shigaraki is a lot like their students. He has potential to grow, if only he had a proper mentor to follow. It’s difficult to think about these things.

And so we shift scenes back over to 1a. I doubt this sports festival talk is happening at the same time as the staff meeting, if only because Aizawa should have been at said staff meeting. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there at all and the homerooms were meant to handle themselves that morning? Wait, hold on-

That clock reads 8:25. This is happening during the homeroom period, which means that the other classes are having independant homeroom. Which also means it’s no surprise that Aizawa isn’t at that meeting, because he’s busy hobbling to his class to announce the sports festival. He probably had to be caught up on the meeting stuff later. 

Anyways. The class is surprised over the announcement of the sports festival, someone calling it ‘totally ordinary’ while another (I think Mineta) questions whether Aizawa’s sure about this, since they just had that villain attack. Aizawa states that it’s necessary to demonstrate that UA’s crisis management protocols are sound - or that’s the thinking, anyways. There will be five times the police presence of previous years. Oh, and also the sports festival is the greatest opportunity the class will get. It’s not something that can be cancelled over a few villains. 

Mineta (again?) asks if he’s sure about that, muttering about how it’s ‘just a stupid sports festival.’ Izuku seems completely horrified at the idea that Mineta might have never seen UA’s sports festival, which Mineta hastens to correct - he has, that’s not what he meant. 

I’m sorry just. That face. I can’t with this kid. Jdsjlgkd.

Also, we finally get to the page that had me double-take when I got to it because, well.

So yeah, apparently the BNHA timeline didn’t have certain current events happened that would force the cancellation of the Olympics. (I mean, obviously Hori had no way of knowing the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo would be cancelled, but it’s still like a huge sign of how long this series has been running that this is here.)

Moving on, basically the above surmises for readers that the sports festival is as big an event to them as the Olympics are to us. So basically, super hype. Momo notes that all the nation’s top heroes will be watching and scouting. Kaminari adds on how the heroes will be looking to hire the hero students as sidekicks after they graduate. Jirou makes a cutting retort how a lot of those sidekicks never manage to go solo, stuck as sidekicks forever, before telling Kaminari that’ll be him. 

Shot through the heart.

(Also a total aside I just realized: current manga events likely mean there will be no sports festival for 2a. I mean, I would say the events happening there are large enough in scope that UA just doesn’t have the inclination or interest in broadcasting vital information the villains could use. And like, no scouting, no internships, no purpose for it.

And I mean, even if they did, would any of the kids even be able to focus on doing their best? God knows how stressed and nervous they all must be with how society is basically collapsing outside the school.)

Aizawa tells the class that they’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if they’re picked up by a big-name hero. However, their time is limited. They need to show the pros what they’re made of to make futures for themselves. This happens once a year, so they have three shots. If they want to be heroes, this is an event they can’t miss.

The whole class seems to be taking this seriously, but Izuku…

Well, he doesn’t seem as enthused as expected.

Anyways, I’ll cut it there and leave the rest for next time, since there’s a time break in here anyways. It’s not quite halfway, but eh.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

*

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

*

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

[amateurasstrologer]

THE PLANETS #1 VENUS (IN THE HOUSES)

Venus is one of the most played out planets in the Solar System. It’s like someone saw a picture of some bitch creeping up out the sea foam and just decided, yes. Goddess of Love. Let’s get a grip. “Love” and “Relationships” barely begins to cover what this beautiful planet is really all about.

Venus is responsive. Shit happens, Venus gets on it. Immediately. She’s a judgmental bitch - she’s gonna have an opinion. It’s because she’s all about your values. Venus helps you understand what matters to you. What do you do when you come across something that matters to you? You respond to it.

Think about it this way: Venus rules Taurus and Leebs. Why? Well. It‘s not because Taurus is trying to buy itself an edible arrangement or because someone told you Libra is useless outside of a relationship. It’s because Venus helps you decide what from your past is meaningful and valuable (Taurus), and Venus helps you keep the bigger picture in mind so you can approach any situation looking for a positive outcome (Libra).

Yes - Venus is a lovely planet, but it’s not because she’s out here looking to get fucked. It’s because she represents your values and how you respond to them. And you only respond to the shit that you’ve decided is worth responding to (thanks again, Taurus). Venus is emotional, reactive, responsive and she wants to connect - not only person to person, but experience to experience, past to present, and present to future. Venus gives your life order, structure and sense. And that’s as beautiful as it gets. Show some respect!!

For your personal pleasure:

VENUS IN THE FIRST (1) these charming, intuitive hoes are looking for meaning within themselves - they find the value in every human experience, project their own sensibilities into everything they do, and are working to develop a positive self-image. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: beautiful cold blooded master manipulators. Use that allure for good, bitches.

VENUS IN THE SECOND (2) these warm, poetic hoes are looking for meaning from their past, social or family circle, and place in time - they find their worth in being a center of influence for their selected crew because they wanna exemplify the values of their group. Like a little spotlight. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: social pressure killing them slowly + low self esteem = fake as fuck. You have more power when you’re real, bitches.

VENUS IN THE THIRD (3) these intuitively organized, quick thinking hoes are looking for meaning in every single relationship between every single thing - they find their value in their ability to make connections. Babies are so tapped into their surroundings that they can look around at a bunch of chaotic shit and identify the hidden patterns and structure immediately. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: narrow-minded as fuck, dogmatic viewpoints, socially acceptable methods only. Ball up and start backing your own shit, bitches.

VENUS IN THE FOURTH (4) these focused, low key intense hoes are looking for meaning in their core values - they find their worth in reinterpreting and redefining traditional values and ideas. They want to establish their little feelings and their roots in significant, real ways. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: extreme emotional introversion. If you don’t respect your feelings you won’t establish anything that’s actually satisfying, bitches.

VENUS IN THE FIFTH (5) these ready, high key intense hoes are looking for meaning in all experiences that trigger their feelings in a big way - they find their worth in achieving their individual goals, or going out there and seriously representing their chosen crew. The intensity of their (not so) little feelings gives these babies mad creative potential and power. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: shit gets ugly, can feel like they’re living a 100% meaningless life, out of control ego-mania thinking they’re the World Savior. Deal with yourselves, bitches. Please.

VENUS IN THE SIXTH (6) these sensitive, spiritual hoes are looking for meaning in changes - they find value in all processes of growth and transformation, even the most whack, uncomfortable ones. They can sail through serious, life-altering shit with class, understanding and even pure appreciation because they got the big picture in mind. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: grade A victim, zero sense of self, blown around by other’s desires. Recognize your own shit and check yourselves, bitches.

VENUS IN THE SEVENTH (7) these soft, open hoes are looking for meaning in all human relationships - they find their worth by participating in relationships at a feeling level. No feelings, no good. They need to feel like they’re worth something to others. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: fake as fuck, confusing relationships with no trust holding that shit together. Stop creating meaning where is this none and hold out for the real shit, bitches.

VENUS IN THE EIGHTH (8) these creative, driven hoes are looking for meaning in any form of sharing - they find value in reorienting themselves towards deeper, spiritual values and increasing the scope of their connections with others. These babies use meaningful relationships to redefine their connection to themselves. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: personal fulfillment at any cost, will use force, will use others for personal gratification. Find a give and take and have some respect, bitches.

VENUS IN THE NINTH (9) these imaginative, visionary hoes are looking for meaning in their chosen spiritual and social values - they find value over time, from their own experiences. These babies can look at their lives and really appreciate the beauty in how situations and relationships have played out, layered on each other and expanded over time. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: their way is the only way, every other truth is worthless. You isolate yourselves, bitches.

VENUS IN THE TENTH (10) these powerful, sociable hoes are looking for meaning in collective experiences - they find their worth in bringing people together, exploring the power in social dynamics, and bringing new feeling and definition to cultural and artistic pursuits. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: seriously rigid values and mindset start making certain types of people feel alienated and excluded from the crew. Pretending like you don’t affect everyone around you doesn’t mean you don’t affect everyone around you, bitches.

VENUS IN THE ELEVENTH (11) these brilliant, influential hoes are looking for meaning in social attitudes and beliefs - they find value in social structures that are emotionally sound. Shit can’t just look good, it’s also gotta feel good. These babes can use their strong social awareness to be on the cutting edge of social trends and direct public opinions. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: ugly ass view of themselves leads to social isolation. Set the norm, don’t follow it, bitches.

VENUS IN THE TWELFTH (12) these mysterious, magnetic hoes are looking for meaning in big energy, big feelings, and big ideals - they find value in tapping into and expressing next-level feelings that stimulate their crew to look for new ways to get shit done and think differently about their lives and relationships. When they’re out of touch with their feelings: tapped out from reality, can only express large, ambiguous feelings in traditional, unhealthy ways. Find another way, bitches.

Let Venus guide you towards the shit you actually care about!! Happy charting, bitches.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

Waking up every morning in a proper bed, in a proper building, with proper heating and air conditioning and water and and andandand- Waking up, period, was a strange experience for FrostNova since she’d arrived at Rhodes Island. Or rather, since she’d found herself in a bed at Rhodes Island, saved by the grace of whatever god presided over what remained of Terra and the mind-numbingly massive effort invested in the attempt to resuscitate her, every day had a dream-like quality to it, as if none of this was truly happening anymore. Her Oripathy, which she’d been sure would be the death of her, was stabilized, albeit on the precipice of falling apart should she even attempt to use her powers, so like many of Rhodes Island’s patients, she found herself busying herself with her recovery and administrative work. And it was during said work that she first encountered the red-hot mistress of the King’s Wand, Skyfire.

While Frost was processing a requisition for a flame-retardant robe (where did they come up with these things?), the Feline burst into her office. “You!”

“You seem to recognize, but I don’t recognize you.” She looked up from her keyboard. “How may I help you?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, witch. You were part of Reunion before coming here, yes?”

She sighed. “Yes, before coming to my senses, I aided Reunion. I have since repented of my foolishness.”

“The only repentance you deserved was being disintegrated.” Skyfire’s outfit was beginning to smolder. “Fortunately, I’m here to oblige you.”

“If you wish.” FrostNova, with a sigh, continued with her work.

She couldn’t believe it. Ignoring someone who was threatening her directly - the nerve of this woman! “Any last words?”

“Tell the Doctor,” she replied, without missing a beat, “whoever keeps burning through their clothing should ask for an inhibitor when outside of combat.”

“‘Whoever keeps burning their-’ what do you mean, an inhibitor?” As the Feline said the words, there was a snap as the elastic holding her bra in place came undone.

The Cautus noted this and carried on. “As a practical measure, those of us with dangerously powerful Arts can wear certain garments or accessories designed to limit their ability to leverage those powers. One of the less carefree members of Reunion made one for me in the hope it would meaningfully extend my lifespan, and while it was not entirely sufficient, if I’d made more regular use of it, it could have been. Miss Skyfire, I presume?”

“...Yes, that’s me.” She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Did the sound of my strap breaking give me away?”

“The smoke you emitted as a result did, at the least. If you would like, I can have a request in the Doctor’s hands by the end of the day for an inhibitor to be made for you.”

Skyfire thought for a moment before sighing. “Do so, then.”

“I’ll begin as soon as you’ve apologized to me.” In truth, she was already working on it, but she did want an apology. “You did threaten to kill me just now, after all.”

“...I’m sorry. Ever since Reunion killed the Wand’s beloved, we- I haven’t been able to forgive them. They must atone with their lives. For what they did.”

Yelena nodded. “I can understand the sentiment, but consider: did the man who killed this Phil already die?”

“They did not.” The Feline began smoldering again. “They escaped in the riot that followed.”

“I see. That is rather unfortunate. May I suggest you do limit the scope of your hatred to those deserving it, nonetheless? In this case, the ones immediately responsible for Phil’s demise?”

She stared at the Cautus disbelievingly. “Why do you care about the fate of these criminals?”

“Many had little choice in where their allegiance fell - without a better alternative, they flocked to those who made great promises with honeyed words, or were forced to join the mob by those rushing forward behind them.” She looked back at Skyfire. “But there are certainly some I would like to freeze where they stand and watch the life leech out of their eyes.”

“...That’s fair. I’m glad we came to an understanding.”

Yelena nodded. “Certainly. The Doctor should have that request in his inbox before the end of today. Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” She turned to leave. “I’ve research to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

“Likewise.” ‘...Did my nerves play tricks on me, or did I feel the room heat up when she walked into my office?...’

-- -- --

A few days went by, and Yelena heard nothing more from the spitfire Skyfire. She assumed that either she’d gotten her inhibitor, and ergo she didn’t need to come see her again, or she hadn’t and decided to take the problem to the Doctor themselves. Either way, FrostNova had other things on her mind, so why should it matter?

...It mattered because it had been years since she’d felt even that tiny bit of warmth, and damn it all, she wanted to feel it again. During her time with Reunion, it seemed like that warmth was impossible to find, but now she had hope again, and if there’s one thing Yelena had learned from being saved by Rhodes, it was that sometimes hope was the key ingredient to making something possible. Fortunately for her, she had an opportunity not longer after coming to this decision when the Caster found her at lunch.

“Good afternoon, FrostNova.” Skyfire sat in the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you for the inhibitor request; it’s been three days since I destroyed my clothes, and not for lack of trying.”

“I’m happy to have helped.” She would have continued, but after spending five hours in her office with minimal contact with other people, her communicative powers were somewhat shot.

The Feline wasn’t done, however. “There’s a side effect that I was hoping you might know how to deal with, since you’ve had one for longer. When I have to take it off at night, I emit a lot of excess heat, which means that now, rather than burning through my clothes, I’ve incinerated three sets of sheets in four days. Do you know where I could find a heat sink?”

“A heat sink?” Ah. Well, this was as good a chance as any. “I happen to sponge heat rather well.”

“That would be fine.”

Should have known that was too- wait. “I expected you to be less open to the idea.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept your help?” She shrugged. “I’ve grown accustomed to others seeing me without my clothes as a side effect of my Arts, and if it solves my problem as well, I’ve only gained from it...More than that, however, I think I know why you’re volunteering.”

“You know about my condition, then?”

 Skyfire blinked. “Condition?”

“You don’t know, then?” Yelena decided to ask the follow-up question after answering the Feline’s. “For some time now, I’ve been completely unable to feel warmth; whether because of nerve damage, a side effect of my Oripathy, a mix of both or some unknown third factor, I now chill the air around me rather than warm it. The other day, when you came to my office, I...I felt warm, for the briefest moment, for the first time in years.”

“...Ah. I see. That makes perfect sense.” The plastic fork in her hand wilted as she blushed.

The Cautus smiled. “Why did you think I offered to help you?”

“W-well, as a single woman with a prestigious position in academia, I’ve received several... offers of intimacy.” Half true - she’d received offers before achieving her status as an acclaimed scholar, but only after reaching her ivory tower did she regret not considering them more thoroughly. “And I imagine you’d have to be rather close to absorb enough of my body heat to have an effect...I’m sorry, I may have been projecting a little.”

“Projecting? Did you want me to be propositioning you, Skyfire?”

Caught like a cat in the fish tank. “...It’s rather lonely at the top, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to climb far to isolate yourself.” Yelena paused for just a moment before she sighed. “Well, it seems I have no choice in the matter now, do I?”

“In which matter?” The Feline, for once, wasn’t quite following.

She brushed her hand against Skyfire’s glass of water, freezing it solid as her inhibitor redirected some of her ambient chill, on her way to handing her a note with her mobile number. “I’ll see you tonight. Depending on how...heated things become, I can’t guarantee your sheets will survive.”

“I have one more set in my closet.” Her hand shaking, she reached for the note, but found her open hand instead. “So soft, but so cold. Like freshly-fallen snow. Or, at least, I imagine this is how it feels to hold snow; I always melted it before it reached me.”

“Mmm.” Yelena’s words had escaped her once again, however, as radiating from her hand and through the rest of her body was the feeling hope had promised her: warmth.

Or, perhaps, love at first touch?

[scientificphilosopher]

I’m still learning how to be an effective ally in the pursuit of social justice. Part of this, for me, comes through figuring out how to best support other allies, how to effectively engage with them, even when they’re not as well-versed in the issues as I’ve become through many years of education. I often ask myself this: How can I balance meeting people where they’re at while also holding people responsible for their ignorant and harmful actions and beliefs? Is there a place for compassion and patience toward well-meaning allies, even when they unintentionally harm others?

What I want to focus on for this blog post is the phenomenon of what I’m calling “anxious allyship” — what it is, how it manifests in certain spaces, and what I do to prevent myself from both being an anxious ally and driving others into anxious ally behaviors via things like gatekeeping.

Anxious allyship, in short, is the tendency for well-intentioned allies to shut down and fail to meaningfully engage with social justice work — be it online or in person — out of fear of saying something wrong or appearing ignorant or racist. Now, it’s important to keep in mind that there are MANY reasons why an ally might fail to show up. There are various elements at play that lead to white people’s fear of appearing ignorant or racist in the first place. For the sake of this blog, I want to focus on how this crops up in online spaces full of predominantly white, left-leaning allies and the tendency for these spaces to partake in gatekeeping (though much of what I’m talking about can extend beyond just conversations with allies — that is simply what I’m focusing on for now). By gatekeeping, I mean for members of these spaces to be overly hostile toward people who are presumably not as knowledgeable in the topic or who say problematic things. In some cases, this type of gatekeeping results in driving people out of the spaces or even harassing them. This type of gatekeeping can be seen as self-righteous bullying, both deliberate and unintentional. At its core, it’s shaming people for not knowing what you know and using that to drive people out of an online space. Again, this can be done with the best intentions. Sometimes gatekeeping occurs out of righteous indignation, to really show that problematic fool how wrong and ignorant their views truly are. More often than not, though, it’s done for the sake of showing off; it’s done to signal to others just how knowledgable and committed of an ally you truly are. To be clear, I am not speaking about justified criticism or the moderation of certain spaces in the service of keeping discussions civil. There are often good reasons to call people out; there are good reasons to react with anger or exasperation; there are good reasons to ban people from certain online forums or refuse to take the time and effort to have a fruitful discussion with them. Just because an ally has good intentions doesn’t mean they are immune to criticism. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as William James said. No, what I’m talking about is white folks lording their knowledge over fledgling allies for reasons like sanctimony and virtue signaling.

Just to be clear as possible, I want to emphasize what I am not saying throughout this post. I am not saying that there is no room for anger (there is). I am not saying that I shouldn’t call people out — allies or otherwise — for their harmful ignorance (I should). I am not saying that patience and effectiveness should always be the primary focus when engaging with allies. I am not saying that there is a singular way of doing any of this. The last thing I am interested in is tone policing. I am, instead, advocating for a pluralistic approach, and that means leaving space for people to be angry, enraged, unresponsive, disengaged, or any other manner of reaction. It is not my place to say that one should not react in anger or ridicule to a well-intentioned but harmful comment simply because it might not be the most effective way to engage with that person, to get them to understand or change their mind. Express your anger if you're angry. Be angry. There is a whole helluva lot to be angry about.

Instead, I am arguing that overprivileged people such as myself should, perhaps, harbor some sense of responsibility in thinking about how to respond in ways that are more inviting to allies based on where they’re at in their educational journey, especially since it has increased potential for maximizing effectiveness and minimizing anxious ally behaviors. I am coming at these issues from a very different place than a lot of marginalized folks. It does not require as much emotional labor for me — an overprivileged white male — to discuss race with people as it might for many people of color. As Audre Lorde — a queer black woman — put it, “Frequently, when speaking with men and white women, I am reminded of how difficult and time-consuming it is to have to reinvent the pencil every time you want to send a message.” White men should, I think, be more willing to sometimes take on the time and effort to reinvent that pencil, especially since other white men are more willing to see us as “objective” and authoritative merely by merit of our maleness and whiteness. In a clear case of cosmic irony, white men will listen to other white men, even in regard to realities like racism, about which we tend to be utterly inexperienced and grievously ignorant. And to further the injustice of that irony, those very white men are the ones who are more likely to harbor power and social capital, thus the ones who can leverage our platforms in ways to most swiftly bring about systemic change. That is why I think those of us in privileged positions have a moral responsibility to learn to engage effectively on these issues.

Still, I’ve certainly found myself attacking people on social media, sometimes looking for that mic drop moment, and in hindsight, I realize I was doing it simply out of self-righteousness or to look smart to my virtual onlookers. If I had taken time to step back and evaluate what was motivating me to say what I was saying, I would’ve recognized that unproductive performative allyship showing its face. I don’t want to lend my energies to creating spaces that are needlessly hostile to people, including other allies. Spaces that are highly judgmental of their participants will engender performative behaviors precisely because people become anxious that they will mess up and get shamed for it. Not a feedback loop I want to amplify.

So, what can I do? Well, I don’t know, exactly. Probably a lot of things. One thing I try to do when interacting with other people who might be in the early stages of exploring their privilege or learning about race, gender, oppression, etc., is that I remind myself of my own journey. As an exercise in perspective and compassion, I reflect on the fact that education is largely a privilege. I have been absurdly lucky to learn the things I’ve learned, to have the resources and support in my life, the patient and empathic teachers. I remind myself of all these privileges, privileges that are not present for many people. Next, I meditate on the many ignorant, problematic beliefs and behaviors of my younger self. I was still me, just a version of me who was oblivious to the fact that a world existed outside the scope of my perspective. I harbored deeply racist, sexist, homophobic, and self-serving beliefs — because I was raised in a deeply racist, sexist, homophobic, self-serving culture. We all are. And I still grapple with these things today, and I imagine I always will. Of course, it is emblematic of privilege that some of us learn about oppression in more academic, impersonal ways, rather than having to confront its realities on a day to day basis. For overprivileged folks such as myself (and, really everyone to some extent), learning about the experiences of marginalized identities is an ongoing journey. None of us comes fully equipped. I remind myself of these things in order to temper my criticism with kindness and compassion. It is an exercise in humility and empathy.

I’ve also alluded to “effectiveness” throughout this post. How can I most effectively engage with other allies? Exercises in compassion and humility are good for me for a variety of reasons. They are humanizing. They are perspective-giving. They are, also, practical. I care deeply about social justice and I want to do what I can to keep privileged eyes and hearts on progressive change. One strategy that I find particularly effective is to meet people where they’re at, ask questions, and engage with them as if they were sitting in the room next to me. I try to remember that this computer screen acts as a veil of anonymity, which gives me a felt sense of licensing in treating people more coldly or harshly than I otherwise would.

So, in discussions with fellow allies, I try to exercise compassion and humility, while still keeping an eye on effectiveness. But this post isn’t solely about what I personally do to prevent others from becoming anxious allies. It’s also about how I try to recognize and combat the anxious ally in myself. Personally, I try to steel myself against some of these more toxic tendencies by practicing these things:

Being Okay With Mistakes. In fact, I have to work to get to a place where I embrace my mistakes. I have to be ok with being dumb and ignorant much of the time. I have to embrace the fact that I will mess up plenty. I have a wrinkly monkey brain and I know somewhere in the vicinity of none percent about the world. I am human, I am fallible, I am ignorant, and my understanding of reality is inherently limited by insulating and unequal social systems. One of the most insidious symptoms of privilege is how its benefits tend to be concealed from those who reap them. White people don’t need to think about racism; men don’t need to think about sexism; able-bodied people don’t need to think about accessibility, etc. This is all expected and understandable; it’s how we respond when our privilege is challenged that matters.

Staying Open and Receptive to Criticism. Ok, so making mistakes is inevitable. What do I do once I realize I’ve made one? How am I responding? An unfortunate reality for marginalized identities is that they too often have to undertake the emotional labor of teaching privileged identities all about these issues. This is not fair. It shouldn’t be this way. This makes it all the more meaningful when I get called out for saying something offensive, ignorant, racist, sexist, or bigoted. My initial response might be embarrassment or shame, and I might take refuge in my intentions: “That’s not how I meant it!” But this is defensiveness. This is symptomatic of what Robin DiAngelo calls “white fragility.” More to the point, it’s a bad interpersonal habit. As Cori Wong points out in her TEDtalk on feminist friendship, you would not react with hostility if a friend lets you know you had a big ol’ booger hanging out your nose in public. You might be embarrassed at first, but you’d ultimately thank your friend for speaking up so that you could take care of it (by wiping it inside your shirt like every warm-blooded American would). The same goes for people pointing out my mistakes in regards to social justice. My ultimate response, regardless of my intentions or initial emotional reactions, should be to listen and to give thanks. I have, after all, been presented with an opportunity to learn more.

Engaging With the Literature. Okay, so I’m willing to make mistakes and I’m willing to listen when people say I’ve messed up (at least some of the time). Is that enough? No. There’s still plenty left to do — and I cannot simply count on the emotional labor of oppressed peoples to figure out what to do next. Thankfully, I have incredible resources at my fingertips. I have YouTube channels, I have article after article after article, Instagram feeds, Facebook pages, books, books, books. There’s so much to learn and it can feel overwhelming to get started, but it’s never too late. There’s no better time than now. (I will also be making a blog post that provides a more extensive list of resources.)

What we have now, as mentioned by activist Maya Rupert, is a climate where the only people who are readily talking about race are those who know the least (vis-à-vis Dunning-Kruger effect) and those who engage with it regularly or professionally. The center has collapsed, with too many well-meaning white people sitting in anxious silence, thus reinforcing the very status quo they’re concerned with challenging. This is not an atmosphere conducive to collaboration, democratic and egalitarian participation, and effective mobilization. As an ally, I hope to do what little I can to correct this. I want to encourage other allies to take the leap of getting engaged. Advocating for spaces that are less hostile to newcomers is only a tiny piece of the puzzle, of course. But I think it’s a good step toward combating white fragility, white inaction, and anxious allyship — though white folks must recognize that it is our ultimate responsibility to undertake this.

In short, I want to be mindful of my impact, whether I’m criticizing people for virtue signaling and engaging in counterproductive ways, or I’m the person being accused of that very thing. I strive to foster allyship environments that are more welcoming and more willing to meet people where they’re at, while also fostering a willingness on my end to make mistakes while remaining open to feedback and staying committed to learning and changing. That’s just me though. In the end, a pluralistic approach to effective social engagement is likely what’s needed. It’s not realistic or productive to prescribe a one-size-fits-all approach to such dynamic and prismatic realities. On top of that, it’s clear that what I’ve talked about so far is just the beginning. A single angry Facebook post does not an activist make. Activism is more than simply learning about a topic; it’s getting involved in ways that lead to direct social and political shifts. It’s taking concrete steps. This requires more than reading a book or posting a hashtag (though these are not necessarily meaningless steps either). Remember: this is just the beginning.

Are you an ally of these movements? Are you nervous about engaging with folks, looking stupid or making mistakes? All understandable. The key? Make mistakes! Look stupid! Wade into the muck of it. Get messy. But just be sure to LISTEN and LEARN while doing so. Put down those defenses. Own your ignorance. Don’t center discussions on your own emotional well-being, but don’t render yourself paralyzed to the point of doing nothing either. Engage. Speak up, speak out. Explore ways to be an effective activist. Understand that social justice work is ongoing. You do not arrive into a state of enlightenment. You have to keep fucking up and keep learning. The reward? A better planet. Keep up the momentum, you messy, ignorant ally, you.

[easinalif]

5 Social Media Marketing Tips

#1: Analyze Past Content to Improve Posts 

Most organizations dissect the viability of their online media after they distribute it. Presently, there are instruments accessible to examine information for content curation before you post. 

Here's how to utilize BuzzSumo to use the information of what has effectively been fruitful as far as friendly sharing. 

To start with, enter a watchword that is important for your online media content technique. BuzzSumo will furnish you with a rundown of the top-performing content as far as friendly offers as per your watchword. 

Then, since some substance performs preferable on certain organizations over others, you would curate be able to content by the informal community. Furnished with this information, you can expand the viability of your substance curation by distributing content that has a more prominent possibility of accomplishment on a particular organization. 

You can likewise channel content by type (which is ideal in case you're searching for recordings or infographics to clergyman) or channel by time-frame. The last allows you to discover content that has been generally mainstream over the most recent 24 hours or evergreen substance that has been famous in the course of the most recent year. The decision is yours! 

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#2: Optimize Visual Content with Links 

The visual substance can go about as a "door" to the more important substance. When arranging visual substance to post on friendly stages, think as far as how it can drive traffic back to your site, items, and administrations. 

For instance, in this SlideShare deck, Constant Contact incorporated a connection back to an asset page posting different blog entries with related substance. 

Connection a short video back to your site from your YouTube Account or your Instagram profile connection and ensure you give extended substance around the video. For instance, Final Cut King drives his fans on Instagram back to longer substance on his YouTube channel by requesting them to tap the connection in the depiction from his Instagram account. 

What are you hanging tight for? Think about making entryways to a more significant substance when you plan your visuals! 

#3: Maximize Twitter Real Estate With Images 

"Overall, around 6,000 tweets are tweeted on Twitter (imagine them here on Internet Stats live), which relates to more than 350,000 tweets sent each moment, 500 million tweets each day, and around 200 billion tweets each year." 

Making the most ideal tweet has never been more significant. Adding visual appeal to your tweet is an exceptionally brilliant approach to get your most significant substance taken note of. 

You can amount to four pictures for each tweet or one incredible picture on the off chance that you need. The decision is yours! To add different pictures, utilize ordinary Twitter. This isn't accessible on any of the outsider locales. Here's an illustration of a tweet with various pictures on Twitter. 

Have you taken a stab at tweeting with four pictures? It's quite cool! #TwitterTips pic.twitter.com/nahiyean 

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#4: Switch Up Content Formats 

In recent years, I've moved to adjust composed substance for various stages, as YouTube, to build my scope and permeability. 

For instance, by transforming one of my List25 articles into a video consistently, I've become the YouTube channel to 1.3 million supporters and amassed more than 200 million video sees. A comparable strategy with WPBeginner articles has developed supporters of more than 8,000, and the channel has expanded deals for my WordPress modules. 

Changing substance designs doesn't need to include just recordings. You can likewise change over scraps from your current articles into pictures—which will in general have better reach on Facebook. These pictures permit you to use the force of interpersonal organizations like Pinterest and Instagram. 

Have you expounded a ton on one explicit theme on your blog? Why not consolidate those articles into a digital book and use it to fabricate your email list? 

If you're not changing substance arrangements to improve your general reach, you're not amplifying the maximum capacity of your substance. 

#5: Create a Social Media Channel Plan 

Such countless associations feel overpowered by the need to make content for each online media channel on the planet. Or on the other hand more awful yet, numerous brands make one kind of substance and afterward impact that content onto each friendly stage. If that is you, you need an online media channel plan. 

Doubtlessly, your objectives are distinctive on every friendly stage. Since that is the situation, the substance you produce for that stage should be diverse too. Here are the parts for your channel plan. 

The Channel (For instance, Facebook.) 

The Persona (Who are you explicitly focusing on? Kindly pick one.) 

The Goal (Is it a business objective, cost-reserve funds objective, or would you say you are attempting to make a superior client experience?) 

Essential Content-Type (Textual, video, infographics?) 

Design (What does an overall post resemble?) 

Tone (Playful, snide?) 

Channel Integration (How will this channel work with your different channels for the most extreme effect?) 

Wanted Action (What client conduct would you like to accomplish?) 

Article Plan (Every channel needs its publication schedule.) 

Also, this is actually why substance showcasing isn't simple. However, if you influence a web-based media channel plan effectively, you'll have the option to twofold down on the channels that work for you and be reasonable with your assets on different channels.