#this was a real and actual math problem I was trying to work out in my sleep

[thetransfemininereview]

Do you have any recommendations for gaining access to these books? I have a pretty long list of ones I want to read but can't afford most of them. The library has the big ones (Whipping Girl, Detransition Baby, Nevada) but the newer or less well known ones have been difficult to find

No this is actually so real though. Let's talk about it.

One of the big problems that I'm trying to address here is the fact that there is a lack of ability for trans books to reach their perhaps core audience, trans people. Over the last few years trans librarians have been trying to increase the number of trans books in circulation, but that's super contingent on where you live. Not to mention the fact that, at least in the US, states are actively trying to criminalize circulating trans books in libraries.

I know Tumblr is allergic to economics a lot of the time, but you've gotta look at the math to understand why this is the current state of things. Essentially it's a vicious cycle. Lots of trans people can't afford to buy a $25 hardcover on a whim, and traditional publishers put a lot of stock into how well a book performs on release, cause that's how they make money. So when the core audience can't afford it and isn't marketable, they register that as a lower demand, which means that fewer trans books get published, fewer end up in libraries, and the cost of an individual book is driven higher. Low demand, high price. Then because the price is high, trans people cant afford the books, and the cycle continues.

It is the dilemma of the transfemme author that most of their core audience is also gonna be transfemme. It's a self-selecting process that's very hard to break out of. And at the end of the day, there just isn't very much money to go around in the trans community because trans people so frequently get cut off from generational wealth. So when you get an ecosystem of transfemmes selling books to other transfemmes who also sell books to them....

I took a class on the Sociology of Art a few years ago, and one of my core takeaways was that the boundaries of a field (yes my teacher liked Bourdieu, come for her ass, not mine) are fundamentally governed by institutions and entities with the money and power to dictate their rules of play. In Althusser's language, you would call those ISAs (Ideological State Apparatuses). When you read Weber, he talks about how culture needs to have some level of social legitimation in order to become a force of power in the world (I butchered that but it's the gist lol). And it's like.

The people who have the money to read the books dictate which books receive the money. Organizations like Lambda Literary, presses, big name publishers, etc. One of the big problems in the field of trans literature up to this point is that the only people who've had the money to produce social legitimation from the organizing schema/matrix of an ISA have also only chosen to read a very small slice of the extant literature. Then, because those non-profits and presses and companies only champion a small selection of books, that in turn dictates for those who have less money which of those books deserve social attention, critical acclaim, sales, library slots, etc.

And like, all of that is an illusion, but it produces a material reality for the transfemme author. It dictates the material conditions for the reproduction of said literature and who can participate in it.

So, what's to be done about it?

"Buzz" is a big deal in the publishing industry. A good review, an award, a thinkpiece - all of that can be the difference between a successful book and a flop. Publishers look for that. If nobody talks about a book and it doesn't sell well, they'll drop the author faster than you can say Susan. Again, vicious cycle. But like, at the end of the day, a "field," an "ISA," a "legitimated" work of art, that's all just a class prerogative. The different between a Very Important Literary Blog and a "person talking about books on the internet" is money. Like. It's just money. The reality of it is really banal.

It's who has the money to read books. It's who has the money and time to write about books. It's who has the money to gain institutional access to book. It's who has the money to read enough to say, "Oh, well that might seem true, but if you look at X, Y, and Z it's clearly not." It takes money to fact check. It takes money to challenge institutional myths. It takes money because when an institution makes a claim about a book and none of the people who care enough to argue with them have the cash to challenge it, the claim tends to stand.

And like, the honest truth is that between the books, the website, and the education, I've spent a lot of money bringing this website online in the form you're reading it in. A lot of the books I've read were really fucking expensive. I grew up in a wealthy family, my parents were accepting. They have both the means and the desire to support my passion projects. I'm lucky.

The goal of The Transfeminine Review is to create at least one independently trans-run website that can challenge that brand of institutional legitimation work from non-profits and big publishers and cis outlets, a website that can actually highlight transfeminine literature as it exists in the world, not as the Big 5 publishers have dictated it. Topside, Metonymy, Arsenal Pulp, LittlePuss, etc. They've all taken on that challenge from the angle of producing books, but there hasn't been a corollary trans secondary ecosystem dedicated to documenting and critiquing them. Or there is, but it's extremely diffuse and hard to find if you don't know exactly what you're looking for. Then there are the general queer outlets, like them. and whatnot, and they do their best but literature is a side hustle at best. There's the queer-helmed literary outlets like Electric Lit (shout out Denne Michele Norris) but they spend most of their time talking about cis authors. None of it is designed to help or review self-published literature from poor authors, and let's be frank, most transfeminine publishing is still done indie or self.

It's an investment, essentially. On the longshot, the hope is that this website will inspire others to do similar work, and that eventually through the collective efforts of trans authors and their readership, we can begin to change the math on trans publishing and help to spread it to a wider audience.

Now.

None of this changes the current reality that trans lit is expensive.

Unless you're lucky, you're probably not gonna find much trans lit at the local library even if you dig for it. Another good place to find free trans books is transreads.org, but their selection is mostly non-fiction, and the fiction is, again, largely the same few books you can find elsewhere. Another good online queer library is https://www.queerliberationlibrary.org/, which might be a good place to look (shoutout to Skye for bringing it to my attention!)

There are a couple of cheaper places to find trans books. If you shop around on itch.io, a lot of self-published trans authors have "name your price" models, which can be more accessible. Creators on itch will also bundle their work on a fairly regular basis, so you can get like 10-20 books for $10, which is, by my token, an excellent price.

If there's a particular author you're interested in, a lot of self-pub trans authors have Patreon accounts where they serialize their novels. You also can find serial (pre-edit) versions of a bunch of books on Scribblehub.

This has gotten steadily less affordable over the last few years cause Amazon is evil, but Kindle Unlimited ($11.99 a month, but there's a free trial) has thousands of trans books. Most of them are erotica, but like, there are a lot of hidden gems in there, and if you're a voracious enough reader, then it'll definitely be much cheaper per book than buying trad.

The problem with all of these, though, is that they tend to favor specific genres and tropes. Like there's only so much variety on itch.io or Scribblehub or transreads.org or KU. So if you like the genre conventions, then awesome! But if you don't it's probably not for you.

And none of it will give you access to some of the rare older tradpub books or the new but scarce releases that I've been going through unless you're willing to pay the full price for them.

I wish I had a better answer, but that's unfortunately the current state of the industry :/

Hopefully this ramble is helpful.

Beth

[crowhoonter]

rating Parahumans guys on how well I think they'd be as parents

Brian: I think Brian would believe he is a great father, but there is too much repressed emotions and depression in there to properly care for and raise a child. 3/10, Not particularly good.

Alec: Alec has lacked a real positive parental unit in his life, and while I don't think he would purposefully be shitty to a kid, I think he might fall back on what he knows from his own youth. Might be a fun older brother though. 3/10, needs to focus on himself first

Danny Hebert: Too sad about his wife dying to properly parent. no further notes. 2/10, Danny please get it together Taylor is relying on you

Armsmaster: Would rub off his worst personality traits onto a kid, resulting in them being the average r/malelivingspace user. Might also encourage child to grow poor facial hair. 1/10, I feel bad for whatever unfortunate soul is consigned to this fate.

Coil: Coil would be an absent father for 90% of your childhood, unless you were useful for his plans. In that case, he would feed you drugs or some other unethical thing and make you work for him (child labor (bad)). 2/10, conditions are poor but you might get to meet some of the other children he has, fixing the playdate situation.

Kaiser: See in story results. -5/10 Nazis don't make good parents.

Uber and Leet: They come as a package deal obviously, and they are actually pretty okay parents, they aren't great obviously but they aren't tremendous failures either. That is until you show up on one of their livestreams and then you are the laughingstock of the school. 4/10 Don't upload your kids online.

Scion: Too sad about his wife dying to properly parent. Also not emotionally available. 1/10, get it together man people are relying on you.

Mark Dallon: Not necessarily a bad parent, but he has a laundry list of problems that he needs to work through before he can begin to think to focus on his kids. 3/10, he's trying by god. He's not doing good but he's trying.

Number Man: He would probably respond to any question his kid asks with some weird philosophical math metaphor. Is a killer cook though. Also math classes would be a breeze. Unfortunately, most of his time is dedicated to cauldron. 5/10, grades will be great.

Accord: The worst type of helicopter parent. He would make itineraries to follow any time his kid went out and would require them home in pristine condition super early. Has a rigorous study schedule and puts a lot of pressure on you to succeed, and you know he wants whats best for you but like its stifling and you aren't really living for you but for him. Sure grades are good but you just can't do it anymore. 4/10, the depression and GPA are soaring.

Jack Slash: As seen in Worm, he is an absolutely killer parent. Has a fun family vibe? check. Engages with his children's interest and allows them to pursue it? check. Keeps his child intellectually and creatively stimulated? check. Takes his family all over the country to see new exciting places and people? check. Dude is simply top tier on the parenting skill. Sure the family dynamic is a bit unorthodox, but when the results look this good can you really argue? 10/10 Jack Slash has got it going on.

[cuubism]

thinking about that meta about the endless not really transforming into different forms but rather being all forms simultaneously and just being perceived differently from different points of view. and yeah

--

"So, Death was telling me something interesting about you yesterday," Hob says, sipping on his coffee.

Dream pouts, though he would probably deny that that's what it is. "You are gossiping with my sister behind my back?"

"You know we talk."

"Gossip," Dream mutters again, steps taking on a pace adjacent to an irritable trudge. "What unseemly things does she say about me?"

"Why do you think she says mean things about you?"

"Every time we speak, she calls me an idiot," Dream says, and Hob lets out a startled laugh.

"That's what siblings do," Hob reminds him. "You know she loves you."

"Hmm." Dream plucks Hob's coffee from his hand, taking a ponderous sip. "What praises does she heap upon me, then?"

Hob shakes his head in fond exasperation. "She says that you -- Endless, that is -- can like... change your appearance for different people? Or creatures? Like. If you met a cat you would appear as a cat to them?"

"You do not quite have the right of it," Dream says. He hasn't returned Hob's coffee, despite having insisted that he 'did not require mortal sustenance' when Hob had offered to get him his own.

"What's the right of it, then?"

"It is not for human minds to comprehend."

Hob groans. "At least humor me and try to explain? Do you turn into a cat or not?"

"I do not turn into anything," Dream says, offended. "How base and common."

"Shapeshifting is base and common, I'll make sure to tell all the shapeshifters I know," Hob tells him seriously.

Dream lets out a sigh that Hob recognizes as meaning fine, I will answer your inane questioning about the nature of my existence. The funny thing is, now that they've gotten over the six hundred year barrier of what's your name and what do you do for work, Dream delights in talking about his creations. He will speak at length about his work given half a chance.

It's the personal -- whether that's something as mundane as how he takes his tea or as fundamental as what an Endless even is, exactly -- that's been hard to get at.

"I am a cat," Dream explains.

Hob stares at him, looking up and down at the very man-shaped figure walking beside him as if he needs to double-check. "You're definitely not a cat."

"Yes, I am," Dream says. He does not appear to be joking.

And apparently Hob is still thirteen years old all these centuries later, because he says, "Prove it."

"You cannot see it because you are not a cat," Dream sighs, as if this is truly a tragic occurrence.

"Maybe I am a cat," Hob suggests, tucking his hands in his pockets, all casual. "How would you know?"

Dream gives him a sidelong look. "You are not a cat. Though perhaps you would be more peaceful as one."

"Doubt it. But wait, so, if I was a cat I would be able to see your cat form?"

"In essence, yes. But. You speak as if I would be donning a coat. These are not forms. Merely fragments. Simultaneous angles on a whole."

"Fragments," Hob repeats. He works it through like a particularly hard math problem. "Hang on. So. You're also a cat now. If we met a cat they would see a cat."

Fuck, this is getting weird.

Dream looks proud of Hob for getting it. "Yes."

"Could have attempted to explain that instead of just saying I am a cat," Hob tells him. "I also still maintain that you are not actually a cat."

"I am as much a cat as I am a human," Dream says.

"So, not," Hob says.

"No," Dream agrees. "Because I am Dream."

"You're a nightmare, is what you are," Hob mutters, and Dream smirks.

"That, too."

They've been walking in silence for another few minutes when Hob asks, "What's your real form?"

Dream frowns. "All of my forms are real, Hob."

"Sure, you look like this or that to different people. What do you look like to yourself?"

"All of my forms are real," Dream insists.

"So what I'm seeing now isn't some kind of default? Are you just always different? Is this like that we don't know how other people see colors 'cuz everyone's eyes could be different thing? Or is there any internal consistency to you?"

"I don't know what thing you're referring to."

"What I'm trying to find out is did I invent this version of you in my head?" Hob asks, getting stressed about it now. Did his subconscious somehow decide this was what Dream should look like? Presumably Dream knows what he looks like to Hob. What if he doesn't like it? "Did I just decide yep that's what dreams should look like in 1389 and you've been stuck wearing black ever since?"

Dream chuckles. Probably amused Hob would ever think he had that much power. "No. There is what you call internal consistency in my appearance. Different creatures, cultures, and so on will see different aspects of me, but there is not a different aspect for each person. It is not infinite."

Oh, thank god. "So, you want to look this way."

"I suppose."

Never a straight answer with him.

"Well, just for the record," Hob says, "I fell in love with the entity but I happen to quite like the shape as well."

"The shape," Dream repeats, with a smile.

"Here's where you're going to tell me you're also a triangle or something."

Dream is silent.

Fucking hell.

"I'm not even going to ask," Hob decides, forcibly moving on. "I have another question."

"You have many," Dream observes.

"That's what you love about me," Hob says, and Dream tilts his head as if conceding the point.

"If there was a human culture that thought of dreams as represented by cats," Hob starts, "they might see you as a cat?"

Dream sips at Hob's coffee, considering. "I suppose."

"And was there ever one?"

"No."

Hob lets out a long breath. Dream is frustrating as hell to talk to sometimes, but Hob can't say he doesn't enjoy it anyway, doesn't enjoy the puzzle. "Was there ever any culture like that, though? That saw their dream representation as something other than a person?"

"There was one that thought dreams lived in bubbles, therefore I was the reflection of light along a bubble's curve," Dream says, expressionlessly. As if that isn't wild and fascinating. "However, that civilization has since disbanded and morphed into different forms."

"Which civilization was that?"

"You would not know it," Dream says.

Hob tips his head back and groans. "God, you're like an edgy teenager who knew that indie band before they were cool. Oh, which band? No, you wouldn't know them, they're too niche, too underground."

"Underwater," says Dream. "It was a civilization of dolphins."

Hob trips over a crack in the road and just manages to catch himself. Dream stops by his side, watching him with some concern, like he worries Hob might break himself in his clumsiness.

"The way the world looks to you must be insane," Hob says, staring at Dream.

Dream's lips tip up in the faintest smile. "Human perspective is narrow."

"Clearly. I wish I could see all your other forms. Must be amazing."

"You wish to see them?" Dream sounds surprised.

Hob scoffs. "Of course. But it's not sounding very possible."

Dream inclines his head in agreement.

Then a thought occurs. "Wait." And god, Hob has said a lot of stupid-sounding things in his life but this is about to be one of the worst. "If I pretend to be a cat, can I see your cat form?"

Dream can never answer a simple question directly, but apparently this absurd query is fine. "I suppose it is possible in theory for you to see it. But pretending is not enough. You would have to wholly assume the perspective of a cat. I do not know if it would be possible in practice."

Hob's never needed much more encouragement than that to try something. "Alright. Hold my coffee."

"I am already holding it," Dream points out.

"Hush. I'm being a cat."

How he's supposed to do that, Hob doesn't know. He paces back and forth before Dream, squinting in the sunlight. He looks at him from every angle. He tries to imagine what cats might dream of. Mice? Freedom? Sleeping in warm places? Their dreams must be feeling and instinct-driven, not intellectual.

Hob crouches down, looking up at Dream from as close to a cat's height as he can manage. Dream merely raises an eyebrow.

"Are you going to meow at me?" he asks mildly.

"Meow," Hob says, and Dream's mouth pops open in a round o of surprise that is one hundred percent worth the indignity of kneeling on a public street and meowing. "What do cats dream about, anyway?"

"World domination," Dream says solemnly.

"Haha," Hob says, but Dream doesn't take it back.

"Alright, I'm channeling megalomania," Hob tells him, shutting his eyes. "I'm channeling my inner despot."

"And an imposing one at that," Dream observes, looking down at him.

"Quiet, subject, can't you see I'm in the middle of ruling with an iron fist? Or paw?"

"I am quaking in my boots," Dream says. "Please, show mercy."

Hob squints back up at him. God, he's really trying, but it's hard. Cats live close to humans, but they are still so alien. Off in their own worlds, their own battles and hierarchies.

"Will it work if I lick you?" he asks. "Like how cats groom each other."

Dream blinks at him, once, twice, slowly, catlike, which he must be doing intentionally, because he's a bastard like that. "This is, as I believe you would say, getting odd."

Yeah, it is getting fucking odd.

"Perhaps you should try imagining my female form," Dream suggests, and if Hob weren't already on all fours on the sidewalk he'd have fallen over. "It is human, and may be easier."

"You have that?" Hob squeaks, scrambling back to his feet. "But I thought it was like, a species perspective thing? Do women just see you as a woman, then?" Then he shakes his head. "No, that's way too simplistic."

"Women can see me like this as well," Dream says. "Or however their culture dictates."

"So why would someone see you as one gender or another, then? Just a culture thing? Preference?"

"Why do some people see God as a woman?" Dream asks the air.

Hob groans. "You are impossible."

Dream smirks.

"Or maybe you just like being unknowable," Hob guesses.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps. Yeah, perhaps. I'm sure." Hob cracks his knuckles. "Alright, my unknowable cosmic entity of a significant other, let's see if I can turn you into a woman."

Dream stares at him flatly, but Hob can see the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth.

Hob still doesn't know what exact perspective he needs to see Dream as a woman. Maybe if he just believes really really hard he can make it happen. Force of will. It's how he'd always planned to make himself immortal, anyway, absent a fortunate encounter with one prickly dream entity.

He stops looking at Dream, and tries to look through Dream. Tries to imagine how it feels to see the true depths of his eyes, how the cosmos in them go straight to infinity. He tries to see around the way the light reflects off of and shapes Dream's form to the shape within, like a sculptor seeing the body in the marble before it's carved. Hob is no artist, but he tries.

And he knows Dream. He may not know all these angles on his form, but he knows Dream, the entity, the person. They have had a long friendship, Hob and the concept of dreaming.

And just like that, the perspective shifts. For a split second, Hob sees an infinity before him, the eternity of all existence condensed in all its brilliant, glowing facets--then his brain skids around it to avoid going mad, latches onto an angle, and slams back to earth.

Hob sways, rubs at his eyes, and then laughs hysterically. "Fuck!"

"Hob?" Dream sounds uncertain now. "Are you well?"

"I think I just glimpsed cosmic knowledge never meant for my mortal eyes, or whatever," Hob tells him, somewhat maniacally. His ears are kind of ringing, eyes swimming in the afterimages of a very bright light. "You're incredible, do you know that?"

"As you judge," Dream says.

Hob finally drops his hands from his eyes.

And immediately slaps them over his mouth, letting out a sound so high-pitched and manic he hadn't thought his vocal cords could manage it. "Holy shit."

Dream frowns. "Are you well?" he asks again. "Perhaps I should not have allowed--"

"I fucking did it," Hob whispers, mostly to himself. "Oh my God. You're a woman. I think? You look like one. I guess?"

Dream looks down at himself. Hob wonders what he sees--does he see what Hob sees? Or does he see the incomprehensible mass of everything that he truly is under the human trappings?

"Ah," he says, and presses a single fingertip to one of the breasts that he now has, prodding it curiously. "It appears that I am."

Okay, so he can see what Hob sees. Good to know.

"Yup," Hob says. He can't seem to steady himself whatsoever. "Yup, yup. You are."

"Impressive, Hob," Dream remarks, looking up at him again with a smirk. His jaw is narrower now, his lips plusher, but God, it's that same fucking smirk that drives Hob insane.

Hob wonders if Dream's female form is also bound by some limitations on appearance the way his usual form is. He hopes so, because it if turns out he managed to manifest Dream's tits to fit his own subconscious desires, he might just have to choose Death at last.

Hob still has his hands over his mouth. He makes himself drop them.

Dream frowns at his silence. "Are you not pleased?"

"I'm very shellshocked and reorienting my view of the universe," Hob tells him. "Also, you're very beautiful and it's just a lot all around."

That smirk again. Whatever minor amount of immunity Hob has developed over the centuries is obliterated by the new shape of him. "Ah."

"Ah," Hob echoes. "Can I kiss you?"

"You may."

Hob does so with his usual enthusiasm, perhaps more, as he does so love novelty. Dream tastes much the same, feels much the same to his hands, and yet not, like Hob's different perspective on him has altered the angle of his touch. Hob runs his hands indulgently over the softer curves of him, settling them on Dream's waist.

"Dear heart," he murmurs into Dream's mouth. "Most beautiful thing."

Dream makes a soft sound and rests his face against Hob's.

They stay there for a long moment, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Then Dream asks, "Would you have still kissed me if I was a cat?"

"On your little furry head, yes," Hob says, and pecks his cheek. "I thought you were a cat."

"I am," Dream says.

Hob groans. "Enough, I'm getting confused again. Let's stop with the metaphysics and go home and do something less headache-inducing."

"Like playing with the new toy you've found yourself?" Dream asks, raising an eyebrow, but obligingly lets Hob wrap an arm around his waist and tug him along down the sidewalk.

"Pretty much!" Hob agrees. "If you're amenable."

"I suppose I can bear it," Dream says solemnly, as though being kissed and coddled and worshiped is the greatest hardship of his eons-long existence.

Then he says, quietly, "You are singular, to perceive me thus."

"As..." Hob looks at him as they walk, looks at the elegant cut of Dream's cheekbone and the sweep of his eyelashes, the longer fall of his hair. "You mean, in more than one... facet?"

Dream nods. "You... see me. The truth of me. And still, you look upon me kindly."

"What other way is there to look at the one you've loved your whole life?" Hob asks, throat tight.

Dream leans into his side, and Hob presses a kiss to his temple, holding there for several steps. And he continues to hold him close as they go on, keeps his unfathomable boundless entity within the circle of his arms, where he can keep on fathoming him.

[triviallytrue]

I see the benefit in “was able to follow along each step and check for myself that the stated claim was true” but I’ve also seen people say the private vetting process can include things like “had a phone call with them where they fluently spoke the Palestinian dialect of Arabic” that can’t be checked by everyone, or “privately showed me their ID/birth certificate/bank info/official documents”, which probably shouldn’t be publicized. if these sorts of things (which seem fairly reliable if true) are indeed being involved in the process in at least some cases, how do you think people should vouch for that beyond a “trust me it’s vetted” without further clarification, or is it impossible to do so from your perspective since they could just lie?

so my suggested solution to these would be:

post a recording of the phone call, so that other Palestinian Arabic speakers can also attest that it's true

post redacted, watermarked versions of official documents

but you're getting at a very big problem: it takes a lot of information to vet people. the post i reblogged was only able to vet that one fundraiser because she's a PhD with a linkedin, instagram, tiktok, and pictures of her on a scientific organization's website. most people won't have that.

at a certain point, it also becomes a nightmare for the vetters (all or almost all of whom i suspect are just people trying their best in a horrific situation). if it takes an hour (or more) to fully vet one single gofundme, there are a single digit or low double digit number speakers of Palestinian Arabic on here with blog histories that stretch back before October 7th with the ability to vet people, and hundreds of gofundmes... well, you do the math.

this is the kind of work that is normally done by people who are paid to do it full-time, in a centralized fashion, not ad-hoc on the internet. amateurs are going to make mistakes - i've seen blogs successfully filtering out unsophisticated scammers, but this current discourse has already rooted out at least 3 scammers who made it onto the vetted lists. it's asymmetric - scammers can do this full time, hone their methods, figure out what exposed them last time and fix it, and overall iteratively improve the credibility of their scams, but vetters can't really keep raising the standards with the time and resources they have access to.

so unless we make the standards so high that they exclude many actual Palestinians (standards like the ones used in that ask), i think there will be some risk of even vetted fundraisers being scams. how big? 1%? 5%? 10%? i don't know, but it's definitely nonzero, and based on the uncovered scams so far, they are diverting thousands of dollars (possibly tens or hundreds of thousands) away from actual Palestinians.

which is why i think people should just donate to the UNRWA. there's a 100% chance your money will go to helping real Palestinians, and while it won't be as impactful for an individual as getting them across the Rafah crossing, that's only an option for a very small percentage of Palestinians anyway. as said before, there are 800,000 Palestinians in Rafah, something like 500 of which cross each day. those that can't cross and the Palestinians in other parts of Gaza deserve aid as well. people are at risk of starvation and have very limited access to medical care. donation to the UNRWA and organizations like it doesn't free anyone, but it does keep them alive, and the money doesn't end up in the pockets of corrupt Egyptian border officials who will wring every penny they can out of Palestinian refugees.

people are, of course, welcome to do whatever they want with their money, but those are my 2 cents.

[loquora]

I'd like to take a couple of minutes to talk about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writers Month) and their terrible, very bad, no good stance on genAI (generative artificial intelligence) and why I won't be writing anything for this challenge again.

I'm very aware that I am an active and vocal genAI hater. But I am willing and open to hear about positive and useful things LLMs (large language models) can do. There are valid scientific uses for the technology and some really fascinating medical and academic breakthroughs that come from LLMs. But the use of genAI in creative writing context is complete bullshit.

Come with me for the breakdown.

The first part of their statement:

NaNoWriMo has made it clear they are not just tolerating genAI in their month long writing challenge, but that those of us who don't are 'classist' and 'ableist' because we don't.

The post was later amended with a list of reasons why they make each of those claims. We'll start from the top.

GenAI uses the technology in a way that is morally, ethically and environmentally bankrupt. See, all LLMs have to train on something. When you're using it to, say, detect cancers you can feed it images of cancer scans so that it builds up a dataset of what those look like to predict future scans. But when you want to generate text, images and video you have to feed it text, images and video. Those things came from people, actual people and actual artists who overwhelmingly did not agree to train anything with their work and can no longer wrest their work from the machine now that it's been stolen from them.

It also isn't 'intelligent' at all, considering it has that word in the name. Think of genAI like an alien learning our language with absolutely no frame of reference for what it's learning. It can predict that the letters "w-e" and "c-a-n" often come after the letters "y-e-s" because the phrase "yes we can" will come up often in training data, it's a common phrase. But it doesn't actually understand what any of those words MEAN. Just that they often follow one another so that when prompted it will, statistically, try put those letters and words together again.

So when it comes to actually writing or responding to prompts what you're getting is the most likely outcome based on a massive amount of data input. It is not actually giving you feedback on what your writing looks like, it's giving you the most statistically possible response based on input. It's fake feedback, a thousand other feedbacks crammed together and extruded into a goo that looks and sounds like feedback but is actually meaningless. ChatGPT doesn't understand your writing sample anymore than a phone tree understands your anger and desperation when you continue to say "OPERATOR" as clearly as you can to try to get through to a real human. Both understand you input a word and will output based on that, but context, emotions, cultural mores etc. are all beyond it.

This is why AI is so absurdly shitty at things like math, counting letters in words and identifying words that start with the same letter. It's mashing together a million math problem answers betting on the likelihood that statistically someone has already answered that question enough times in the training data that it can spit the correct answer out at you.

TLDR: If you're using genAI to get feedback on your writing you're not actually getting feedback on your writing at all, but the most statistically probable set of words that relate to feedback. So right off the bat the idea that genAI is going to help you be a better writer is just flat wrong. It doesn't know how to write, it doesn't even know how many Rs are in the word 'strawberry'.

Second point has the same issues as the first:

I actually agree with them on the point that if your brain doesn't handle certain writer activities well it's perfectly okay to use an outside source for help with it. GenAI isn't actually helping you be a better writer, though; it can't. It doesn't understand anything you write nor can it provide meaningful feedback when it's just spitting out statistically probably words to you based on your input. So while the point here is actually good on the surface, the solution of using genAI to help people who have trouble with certain aspects of writing is still not correct.

The final point:

Again, this is a very good point... if it wasn't being made in conjunction with a defense of generative AI WHICH DOES NOT HELP OR SOLVE THIS ISSUE. In fact, because of the known issues of bias in how genAI LLMs are built they can make issues for marginalized writers worse.

I genuinely have no idea how this very true paragraph about people who are routinely pushed out of traditional writing spaces is helped by genAI. Their entire point thus far seems to be that genAI is a 'cheap' alternative to some traditional writing aids but considering genAI doesn't work like that it's all dead in the water as far as I'm concerned.

If NaNoWriMo was actually concerned with solving these access issues to things they consider critical to writing in general, why not offer a place for real people to read and critique one another on their platform? There are myriad other technological solutions that don't cost huge amounts of water AND actually help aspiring writers!

All of this to say that you should write for yourself, write what you enjoy and get better the same way generations of people before you have: by reading other people's work, talking to and exchanging time with other authors and writing and rewriting in your own words until you're satisfied.

Wasting water asking genAI to do things for you that would make you a better writer to do yourself or with trusted allies is just that, a waste.

[utilitycaster]

Daggerheart Character Build thoughts!

I am actually out at work and haven't checked the version that's since come out, but I did participate in the character build beta, and the NDA is officially lifted, so here's my thoughts from that! It's definitely limited since I just made a L1 character and didn't go through gameplay, though I surmise about some aspects of gameplay.

Overall, it clearly seems to be made by people who love a lot of things about D&D 5e but wanted both more flexibility and more simplicity, which is difficult. I think they succeed.

To that end, it takes away some of the crunchier aspects (precise positioning, exact amounts of gold) and I think for some people that will be a problem, and that's valid, but ultimately this game wants to both allow for interesting mechanics in and out of combat while also not being terribly math/map/resource management heavy. It is a hard line to walk; most systems either go hard crunch or go entirely gooey.

The dice mechanic (2d12, Hope and Fear system) is fantastic; look it up but I think it handles mixed successes more gracefully and interestingly than a lot of games.

The playtest was not super clear on armor and evasion choices (or indeed what evasion means; it seems to be sort of initiative but sort of dex save, or maybe more like the Pathfinder/old school D&D varying ACs by scenario?). It was much, MUCH clearer than D&D on weapon choices (part of why I play casters? Weapon rules in D&D are annoying and poorly explained and many people rightfully ignore them) so I'm hoping this becomes clear when there's a full guide rather than just the character creation info.

The character creation questions by class were fantastic and in general, and this is a theme, this feels like it guides people towards collaboration. FWIW I feel like D&D has that information, but the way it's presented is very much as flavor text rather than a thing you should be doing. Daggerheart makes this a much more core part of creation. The Experience mechanic is particularly clear: you better be working with your GM and really thinking about background, rather than slapping it on as a mechanic.

The other side of character creation questions is that it really encourages engagement with the class, which is something I've talked about. I think either subversion for the sake of subversion, or picking a class for the mechanics and aesthetic but not the fundamental concept, will be much harder to justify in Daggerheart, and I think that's a good thing because when people do that, their characters tend to be weaker.

The downtime is designed for you to write hurt/comfort fanfic about and this is a compliment. There are a number of mechanics that reward RP, particularly one of the healing mechanics under the Splendor track. I feel like a weakness of D&D is that when you try to reward RP it's really nebulous because there's not actually a ton of space to put that - you can give inspiration, but, for example, the empathy domain Matt homebrewed actually feels kind of off because it's based on such fuzzy concepts amid mechanics that are usually more rigid. Daggerheart comes off as much cleaner yet still RP-focused, and I'm excited to see it in action.

A judgement of Candela and I suppose Daggerheart might be that it's designed for actual play. I've mentioned before that I know people who are super into the crunch and combat and numbers of TTRPGs and are less story-oriented, and again, that's valid, but actual play is just storytelling using a ttrpg and so yes, a game that encourages RP while also having mechanics to support that and influence it is an extremely good goal. I am not an actual player, but I do like D&D games with a good plot and not just Go Kill Monsters, and I want to play this. (I also have some real salty thoughts about how if you modify an existing game for AP purposes that's staggering genius apparently, but if you make your own game how dare you but that's another post).

And now, the classes/subclasses. I am going to sort of use D&D language to describe them because that's a point of reference most people reading this will understand, but they are not one-to-one. A couple notes: everyone can use weapons and armor. HP is not totally clear to me but it seems to be threshold based - everyone has the same HP to start but people have different thresholds and armor, so the tank classes have the same amount of HP but are much harder to actually do damage to.

All classes are built on a combination of a subclass and two domains. There are 9 classes and 9 domains. This technically means that if you wanted to fuck around and homebrew you could make up to 36 classes (27 additional) by just grabbing two domains that weren't otherwise combined, which is fun to consider for the potential. Anyway I cover the classes and briefly describe domains within them. You can take any domain card within your domain, regardless of subclass.

There are six stats. Presence, Instinct, Knowledge, and Strength map roughly to Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, and Strength. Dex is split into Agility and Finesse; Agility covers gross motor skills (jumping, most ranged weapons, "maneuvering") and Finesse finer ones (lockpicking and tinkering, though also it does cover hiding). The really big wins are first, no CON score, so you don't need to sink stat points into something that grants no skills but keeps you alive. The second one is that the "hybrid" classes spellcast from their physical stat. This is fucking fantastic. The thing about ranger or paladin or the spellcasting subclasses of rogue and fighter in D&D is that if you don't roll pretty well you're locked into the core stats and CON and nothing else. (This also doesn't have rolling for stats: you assign +2 to one stat, presumably your main, and then distribute two +1s, two 0s, and one -1.)

Your HP, Evasion, and Thresholds are set by class, and there's a core ability; the rest is all from the cards you take for subclass and domain.

Leveling up is very much based on taking more domain cards (abilities) but has a certain degree of flexibility. It's by chunks: in leveling up anywhere levels 2-4, you can, for example, increase your proficiency by +1 once, so if you wanted to do that at level 2 but your fellow player wanted to wait until level 4 and take something else at level 2 instead, they could. It allows for more min-maxing, but also everyone has the same level up rules and differs only in the abilities on the cards, which is very cool.

Bard: Grace (enchantment spells) and Codex (learned spellcaster stuff; the spells available are definitely arcane in vibes) based, Presence is your main stat. The two subclasses map roughly to lore-style stuff and eloquence. Core class ability is sort of like inspiration but not entirely. It's a bard; I like bards a lot, and this is very similar vibes-wise to your D&D bards. If you like D&D bards you will like this.

Druid: Sage (nature spells) and Arcana (raw magical power spellcaster stuff), Instinct is your spellcasting/main stat. The two subclasses are elemental but frankly cooler than circle of the moon, and a more healing/tranquility of nature focused one. I really think Marisha probably gave feedback on this one, because the elemental version is really strong. You do get beastform; it is quite similar to a D&D druid under a different system, as the bard, but the beastform options are, frankly, better and easier to understand.

Guardian: Valor (melee tank/damager) and Blade (damage). Strength based for the most part (Valor mechanics assume strength) though you could go for like, +2 Agility +1 Strength to start. This is barbarian but like. 20 times better. It is, fundamentally, a tank class, and it is very good at it, with one even more tank-focused subclass and one that is more about retaliatory damage. You do have a damage-halving ability once per day, but really guardian's questions are incredible. I think Travis and Ashley likely gave feedback. Also rage doesn't render you incapable of concentration as that doesn't seem to be a thing, so multiclassing seems way more possible (you are, I think, only allowed to do one multiclass, and not until you reach level 5 minimum, which I am in favor of). Yes, you can be a Bardian.

Ranger: This is what I built! It is based on Sage and Bone (movement around the field/dodging stuff) and it is Agility-based, including for spellcasting, which is a MASSIVE help (as is, again, the fact that CON isn't a thing.) The subclasses are basically being really good at navigation, or animal companion. Most importantly to me you can be a ranger with a longsword and you are not penalized; Bone works with either ranged weapons or melee.

Rogue: Midnight (stealth/disguise/assassination spells and skills) and Grace-based. Yes, rogue is by default a spellcaster, which does help a LOT with the vibes for me. One subclass is basically about having lots of connections (as a spy or criminal might) and the other is about magical slinking about. Hiding/sneak attack are also streamlined. I will admit I'm still more interested in…almost everything else, but I think it evened out a lot of rogue weaknesses.

Seraph: Splendor (healing/divine magic) and Valor. This is your Paladin equivalent. It is strength-based for casting, again making hybrid classes way less stressful. Questions for this area also incredible; you do have something not unlike a lay on hands pool as well. Your subclasses are being able to fly and do extra damage; or being able to make your melee weapon do ranged attacks and also some extra healing stuff, the latter of which is my favorite. Yasha vibes from this, honestly. Single downside is this is the only class where they recommend you dump Knowledge. I will not, and I never will. Now that I don't have to make sure CON is high? I am for REAL never giving myself less than a +1 Knowledge in this game.

Sorcerer: Arcana (raw nature of magic/elemental vibes) and Midnight based. Yes, sorcerers and rogues now share a vibe, for your convenient….less enthused feelings. Instinct-based, which intrigues me, and the core features are in fact really good. The two subclasses are either one that focuses on metamagic abilities, or one that is elemental based. I would play this for a long-running game, though it's not my favorite, and I can't say that for D&D sorcerer (except divine soul).

Warrior: Blade and Bone, and the recommended build is Agility but you could do a strength build. Fighter! One subclass is about doing damage and one is about the hope/fear mechanics core to the game that I have NOT talked much about. I will admit, the hybrid martials and Guardian are more interesting to me but you do have good battle knowledge.

Wizard: Codex and Splendor. Wizards can heal in this system; farewell, I will be doing nothing else (jk). Knowledge-based, and you can either go hardcore expertise in knowledge, or be a battle wizard.

Other scattered thoughts: healing is not as big a deal here; there is no pure cleric class! There is also no monk, warlock, or artificer. There is not a way to do monk as a weaponless class really though you might be able to flavor the glowing rings as a monk weapon and play a warrior. Wizard, meanwhile, with the right experiences and high finesse, would allow for some artificer flavor. Cleric and Warlock are the two tough ones and I will admit those are tricky; I feel like you'd have to multiclass (which you cannot do until level 5) between perhaps seraph and a caster class and you're still going to come off very paladin.

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 3

summary: a big project is announced in class, meaning you and miles need to get your shit together. and other stuff.

wc: ~2k (I know.)

warnings: very briefly implied neglect...?

A/N: I struggled a lot w this one but I kinda got my flow back at the end! enjoy :)

prev. miles' pov snippet next

By now, there were three things that you had never seen Miles Morales do:

Work with a partner, say ‘hello’ first, and eat lunch in the cafeteria.

The first thing was about to change in the next forty-five minutes or so. 

The third, you’d soon figure out as you crept quietly up the staircase that led to the rooftop. You had planned to convince the boy to actually cooperate with you in Calculus, offering to do his English homework in exchange. 

As soon as you reach the top of the stairwell, though, all thoughts of negotiation leave you. Your eyes land on Miles’ heaving figure, and you realize that there's a fourth thing you’d never seen him do: cry.

The only sound that could be heard was the whistling of wind and the small, whimpering sounds that it carried with it. He didn’t seem to have a bag or tray of food with him. It unnerved you to try to imagine what could make a boy that tall shrivel up like that.

You didn’t say anything (what could you say?), slowly stepping back down the stairwell.  While your back was turned, Miles peeked through his elbows and caught a glimpse of your retreating sneakers. He didn’t come downstairs until the bell rang.

You sat down at your not-by-the-window seat. Miles had arrived earlier than you as usual, but his head was down, seemingly asleep. 

The case holding his glasses sat unopened. As usual.

“Today, you all will begin to brainstorm for your partnered projects,” Ms. Jones beamed, clapping her hands together.

Miles’ head suddenly perked up. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost, while you chewed on your pencil’s eraser absentmindedly. There was no way Jones was about to pair you up with a temporary partner–

“...and I’ve switched some of the pairings to account for those who are unable to join us this week.” The woman made direct eye contact with you as she finished the sentence, and your stomach dropped.

 “Everyone will be partnered with the scholar sitting next to them.”

Small cheers and celebratory squeals erupted across the classroom. You look at Miles, who still has rings of red around his puffy eyes. He glances at you before turning away to fake-stare out of the window. 

Jones continues, “Your AP Physics teacher and I have decided to combine our projects into one prompt, meaning that the instructions are two-fold. In Physics, as you already know, you will be writing a lab report based on the experiments y’all have been doing all of last week. In my class, you’ll also come up with three short calculus problems based on real-life scenarios--”

The woman paused at the wave of groans and sighs, and shook her head.

 “--based on what you have learned, both here and in Physics. You will present at least one of them in class for your own mini-lessons. Any questions?”

The classroom was silent as she quickly scanned the room,

“Well, alright, then! I need someone to pass around these brainstorming sheets.”

Miles had a frown on his face for the entirety of Ms. Jones’ spiel, arms crossed like a toddler. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t currently in the same boat.

Two sheets of paper landed on your desk, and you passed one to him.

“Any ideas, Morales?” 

“Not in an ‘ideas’ mood at the moment,” the boy muttered, massaging his temples.

You rest your chin on the backs of your hands and sigh.

“Fair enough.”

Another awkward silence. You began to jot down a few topics for math problems: projectiles, the speed of a vehicle, but your pen eventually slowed to a stop out of boredom. Had your friend been here, she would’ve filled the silence with lively conversation about the news, P.E., or Ms. Jones’ outfit. 

“Why don't you like working with people?” you ask, suddenly. Miles cut his eyes at you.

“ ‘Cuz of questions like that.”

“What if I’m just tryna make conversation?”

“About what?”

“Well, whatever’s on your mind,” you gesture towards the open spiral notebook next to him full of sketches. He hasn’t added anything new to it all class. “Must be something happening up there.”

The boy’s eyes flickered toward the page. You’d already seen it, so there was no point in shutting the notebook closed.

“I don’t see what’s so interesting about these.”

You tilted your head to see the drawings better. Some of the figures leaping across the page looked vaguely familiar; some from action movies, others from anime, judging by the hair.

“I like your art style. It’s so…” you stare up at the ceiling, lips jutting out as you try to find the right word. “...Knife-y.”

The corners of Miles’ lips quiver, and an unusual sound suddenly escapes him. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and his shoulders shake as he briefly turns away.

“My fault,” he says, turning back around after clearing his throat. “You said it’s what?”

The sound of his stifled laughter makes you giggle despite being the subject of it.

“It’s sharp and pointy, okay? That’s what I meant.” 

At this point, both of you are struggling to keep a straight face at the back of the classroom.

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Listen, I forget words a lot. Gimme a break!”

Miles wipes a tear away, “Yeah, I ain’t never letting you forget that one.”

“Okay, back to the drawings, though. Who’s that?” you pointed at a sketch of the caped figure with sharp eyes from before. A shadow fell over the boy’s expression.

“Nobody important. Just sumn I made up.”

You hum in acknowledgement, drumming your fingers on the desk.

“One more question, then I’ll leave you alone. Why don’t you eat downstairs with everyone else?”

“It’s too loud down there, so I eat in the counselor’s office,” he answered.

Miles narrowed his eyes. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“How’d you know I don’t eat downstairs?”

He knew the answer, of course. But he wanted to know if you’d lie.

You nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at the solid lines on your worksheet.

“I…may or may not have seen you. Upstairs.”

Miles nodded slowly, silently. As if he was considering something.

“You was looking for me?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to…interrupt,” you look up and meet the boy’s eyes. “Did you get to eat lunch, though?”

He gave you a weird look. “What’s that gotta do with you stalking me?”

Crossing your arms defensively, you shot back, “You were so damn worried about whether I ate, why can’t I return the favor?”

Miles’ eyes widened for a moment, before darting in the other direction. “I think you should go back to doing your work.”

Just as he finished his sentence, the school bell rang. Miles was already standing with his bag slung over his shoulder.

As you gather your stuff, you call out, “Wait! I need your email for this project, I forgot.”

“Right,” Miles ripped out a sheet of paper from his notebook, scribbling his email address on it before handing it to you. “I’ll share my slides with you when I’m done.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I thought you weren’t in an ‘ideas’ mood, today.”

The boy shrugged as he pulled the back door open with his free arm, stopping it with his foot. “I am now. We’re getting graded as a group.”

-

The two of you had decided to reconvene just outside the basketball court after the final bell of the day.

“You already decided to take over the slides, lemme at least present!”

“Nope. Not riskin’ it.”

You groaned, pacing around as Miles leaned on the chain link fence.

“I’m literally good at public speaking, what ‘risk’?”

“You,” Miles pointed, “are an entire letter grade below me in English. Why should I believe you?”

“I am on the mock trial team, bro.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “You any good at it, though?”

You scoffed, “Of course I am!”

“Prove it. Gimme a closing speech right now.”

A deep sigh left you, but you did happen to have a speech on-hand that you had won with last season. You moved to stand in front of Miles as if he were a jury member, and cleared your throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” you began, “in today’s trial, we have clearly laid out the facts of this case…”

By the time your speech was over, the court was empty and quiet. Miles nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his features. Your voice took on a sharp precision and clarity that he hadn’t gotten to hear in the couple days he’d known you.

“Shit, maybe that nigga is innocent,” he said beneath a laugh. “Alright.”

“You gonna let me present?” you perked up.

“Yeah, you convinced me. My bad,” the boy stuck out his hand.

You rolled your eyes, and shook it.

“Yeah, your bad.”

Suddenly, your hand flew over your mouth when you recalled something.

“Oh, shit, I gotta stay after and do my readings.”

“Stay…after?” Miles repeated. “There’s no office hours today.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “I just sorta hang out around here to do my homework till it gets too dark.”

The boy’s face was a picture of disbelief.

“Why don’t you just do it at home?”

“Too noisy. Can’t focus.”

Miles stared at the ground, looking deep in thought. He got off of the fence.

“Look, do you wanna study at mine? If your parents let you, I mean.”

“Don’t need to ask ‘em. Long as I’m home before midnight,” you replied.

Miles shook his head, but said nothing as he took out his phone and began to dial a number.

“Hello? Hi, mami. ¿Puedo estudiar con un compañero de clase?”

He paused for a second to wait for a reply.

“Sí, es la misma chica. M-hm. Love you, bye.”

“She said yes?”

Miles nodded, then gestured to get you to follow him. “Yup, ‘till ten.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the two of you began walking.

“I like your Spanish. It sounds better than Ms. Sanchez’s,” you remarked.

“ ‘My Spanish’?” Miles looked back at you briefly, eyes narrowed. “What does that even mean?”

“It just sounds nice.”

“You’re weird. Walk faster.”

-

“Can you even see without those?”

You pointed towards the brown case sitting on the small desk by Miles’ laptop as he typed away.

“I’ve seen enough,” he replied, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. The soft ‘thud’ of the case shutting reverberated across the quiet bedroom.

“I wouldn’t wear ‘em, if I was you. Fuck up your eyesight.”

“Too late,” you chirped. The case contained a pair of green, rectangular prescription glasses. The lenses were still clean from their utter lack of use. Of course, you couldn’t see a thing through them.

“Damn, you blind as fuck!”

This earned a snort from Miles. He paused his rapid typing and turned around to see you sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling through his glasses.

“Bro, do your homework,” he laughed. “Did you even start?”

You looked over at the small paperback novel laying by your head. 

“Maybe,” you said with a grunt, propping yourself up on your elbows. “How many chapters we got?”

“Just two.”

“Just?”

“I finished the book yesterday, you’ll be a’ight,” Miles said as he turned back to his laptop.

“Of course yo’ ass already finished the damn–Who’s point of view is this?” you asked, squinting at the paragraph you had left off on.

“Minerva’s, we in part two now.”

“Thanks.”

You sat in a comfortable silence for the next few hours, and you had read the assigned chapters before you knew it. The time on your phone read ‘9:01pm’ when you checked it. You heard Miles shut his laptop.

“A’ight, you gotta get up outta here. My ma said she gonna drop you off before work, that okay?”

“So soon?” you joked, sitting upright.

“Yeah, you need to dip. What if I had a girl over and she saw yo ass lying on my bed?”

“Alright, Mr. Bitches, I’m gone,” you hopped to your feet. “Lemme get my shoes first.”

Miles rose from his swivel chair and stretched.

“Damn right, I am.”

“Whatever you say, Morales.”

-

I don’t think I’ve ever written this many elipses and italics in my life. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed this longer-than-usual chapter. I’ll be uploading a bonus snippet that I cut out of this chapter this coming week, so look out for that ;)

thanks for reading!

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[comicaurora]

Are you willing to make a long personal post about how Math should be presented in an educational environment or in general conversation trying to convince the other participants about its daily usage. How it can advance a person’s problem-solving skills and approach in life.

I’m really good in Mathematics. I’ve given help for my classmates and friends about Math when they are having trouble or ask for it. But I have never been convinced of its importance outside of the classroom, outside of the test papers that gives me the variables to substitute in the given equation of that test of the day.

How can Math and it’s many properties relate back to everyday life in a casual manner?

Hm. Well, as someone who hasn't had to solve an antiderivative in years, my perspective on this is that the most important and widely-applicable skill math can teach you is the stuff behind the math - mostly the muscle-memory you get from proofs.

Math is, at its core, puzzles and logic and pattern-recognition. You learn a set of tools, you practice those tools on a set of simple problems until you get a feel for them, you are presented with a bigger problem, you recall which tools best applied to problems that are shaped like this, you break the problem down using your tools and eventually reduce it to something you know how to solve.

The fact of the matter is, the tools that are specific to branches of math don't really have much widespread use outside pure mathematics, and unless you go out of your way to keep using them you're likely to lose track of them. Studying math is not going to turn you into a super-calculator-wizard who can bounce stuff off the walls at perfect angles and do six-figure arithmetic in seconds, and I think some people feel overwhelmed at the assumption that that's what's expected of them if they learn math, and some other people feel cheated when they learn that that's absolutely not going to happen, because most writers don't know math and when they tell stories with math in them their best guess is it makes you a wizard.

I think the most advanced math I've used lately was trigonometry, and that was just because I was curious about how fast my plane was traveling relative to the sun's apparent movement at my latitude. We were flying back to the US from Iceland and we'd taken off at sunset, and we had been in that sunset for at least an hour by the time I got curious how the math worked out and started estimating our latitude, the circumference of the slice of the earth at that latitude, and correspondingly how fast we were flying vs how fast it was spinning to complete a full rotation in 24 hours. But even if the math involved didn't tap into any of the higher-level stuff I'd learned post-trig, those years doing proofs and figuring out which tools applied to which geometry meant that I could use the tools and my training applying those tools to calculate what I wanted to know, and confirm that our plane was actually outflying the sun when we were at iceland latitude, but as we curved south the sun's apparent relative movement (aka the rotational speed of that latitude of the earth) slowly accelerated until we were falling behind, landing right as the sun finally set. The math involved was high school level, but if I'd been given that problem in high school it would've taken more work and more stress to figure out how the tools I had needed to be applied to the problem I was facing. The years of practice I had tackling much more complicated proofs made the diagnostic process much faster.

I saw someone once analogize studying math to lifting weights. Where am I going to use this in real life? How often will I really be faced with two dumbbells that need to be lifted in three sets of twenty? Where am I going to apply the skill of holding a heavy thing straight out to one side of my body?

You don't lift weights because lifting weights is such a valuable and widely-applicable skillset, you do it because lifting weights makes you better at lifting everything.

You don't study math because math is going to fill your daily life with concepts that you need to prove true for 1 and for n+1 given true for n, or complex solids that you need to sum an approximate volume for, or a surplus of sunset plane flights that demand you calculate a bunch of cosines. You study math because it is the skillset of making things make sense. It trains you to break a huge, incomprehensible problem down into a series of small problems you already know how to solve. It lets you reach true and correct conclusions by starting from facts and transforming them through operations that preserve truth, and correspondingly that if you reach a false conclusion from these methods, then either the methods are flawed or the initial assumption is not as true as you believed. It teaches you to put two and two together and be confident, once you've double-checked your work, that you can say four.

This is stuff I use all the time in both my video research and my freeform writing. Building out a slow picture of how a story was told or changed over time involves finding the context it was created in, and reverse-engineering what parts of that context could have produced what standout portions of the story - what authorial or cultural bias results in this standout story element. Worldbuilding where I take two wildly disparate parts of the world, put them together and see what web of implications springs out of combining them, following the threads to new and interesting concepts that follow from what I've already established. Building a character arc by breaking down exactly what events are happening to them and what transformation each component will apply to the underlying character. If I want the story to go in a certain direction, what transformations do I need to apply to make that happen while still preserving truth? If I'm faced with a seemingly insurmountable problem, what methods can I use to break it down into bite-sized pieces?

This isn't something I think about most of the time. It's just how my brain works at this point, and I can't promise it'd work for anyone else. But thanks to all my years of hard work and training, my brain has been buff enough to solve every problem I've tangled with since graduation, and that feels pretty good.

[dravenscroft]

So my wife and I are working on a long fic that's a Terror modern AU set in a secondary school. My wife is a teacher and has experienced The Horrors of crappy schools being taken over by academy trusts and becoming weirdly corporate firsthand. We're like 50k into it and it'll probably be like 60k? I think? Anyway we're uploading it on my Ao3 soon but here's a brief rundown of some of the highlights:

Crozier is the new joint head of school, he's been moved there against his will to work alongside Fitzjames, the 'Head of Data', which Crozier thinks isn't a real job.

Franklin is the Executive Head but he's NEVER at the school, he's always busy at head office and has no idea what chaos goes down.

Fitzjames used to be a drama teacher until he got promoted up. He hasn't taught in years and so Crozier has zero respect for him...at first.

Little is the exhausted head of English and he is regularly being verbally abused by the children. He is having a Bad Time.

Hodgson is the music teacher. Irving is the art teacher.

Collins is the maths teacher...he has had a sniffle since the start of the year...he is maybe over medicating with Lemsip and cough medicine in an effort to keep coming to work.

Goodsir is the bright-eyed NQT biology teacher. He is still full of wonder and hope. Oh, to see the UK education system 'with eyes as an NQT...'

Stanley is the head of science. He is not full of wonder and hope. Obviously.

Blanky is the geography teacher who has been there since forever and doesn't take any shit. He's beloved by the kids but they also rightly fear him because he will tell them what for if they misbehave. He also has NO concept of professional corporate speak in emails. He will tell it like it is.

...Oh yeah, there's emails in there too. It's partly epistolary.

Jopson is the highly competent office worker for the school reception. He WILL find a way to schedule the unscheduleable, he WILL handle any difficult parent that comes his way, and he WILL answer every email in a timely fashion.

He works alongside Billy of course, who doesn't want to be there, except maybe for the gossip.

Bridgens takes on the work of several as is normal in a terrible school...he's librarian, and the first-aider, and a TA, along with his husband Peglar who is also a TA.

Tozer is the disillusioned P.E teacher who USED to enjoy his job until Heather left and took another job on the other side of the country and the Academy (Admiralty Trust) took over...now he hates his job and is totally checked out.

And then of course there's Hickey...a problematic parent who has made bringing down Crozier and the school his primary goal. It was very hard to imagine Hickey with a kid but we came to the decision that his daughter was born when he and the girl's mother were like 15, a one-time fling before he figured out his sexuality, and he has Regretted It Ever Since because good GOD this man doesn't want to be a father. He only has her on weekends and isn't in contact with her mother at all. He WANTED to run off to Hawaii like in canon but then his kid's mother said she'd chase him to the ends of the earth for child maintenance if he did. He is NOT a good father, this troubled, angry teenage girl lives off takeaway and pot noodles and they mostly just try to avoid each other when she's at his scummy little flat. HOWEVER, because Hickey is all about his ego, when there are Issues with his daughter at school Hickey takes it as a slight against HIM, and makes revenge his goal.

His daughter also features, she's a 'managed move' student who was nearly expelled from her last school for bringing in a knife. She's very troubled and terrorises the teachers (she's referred to as 'a little terror' in one of the emails...) but she also ends up bonding a little with Crozier, who tries his hardest to turn things around for her. It's just too bad her father wants to cause Problems rather than do anything to ACTUALLY help her.

Anyway yeah. It's mostly comedic but with a few serious issues tackled (like the obvious neglect this girl experiences, for one) - it's mostly been a way for my teacher wife to rant about Academy schools and just the general failings of the UK school system lmao. There is Social Commentary involved.

Anyway it's Coming Soon.

[parachutingkitten]

Jay = High Intelligence, Low Wisdom

Kai = Low Intelligence, High Wisdom

Essay about this concept below the cut

Now these are all just my interpretations of the characters, I don't necessarily have hard evidence on hand to back all this up, but here we go:

I've been trying to put my finger on the Kai smart/dumb duality, and I think I can finally somewhat make out my thoughts. Kai is not smart. Book smarts don't come easily to him, he's not great at math, he's not great at overly complex stratagizing- but he's got a LOT of great knowledge in him.

Take the dragon healing in DR. He might not intuitively know how different medicines work or why, but he's got injured enough that he knows that type of information is important to know, and so he's forced it into his head. He couldn't tell you why the blue goop helpped the dragon, but he knew that it would, and that it would be important to remember that it would.

He's pretty good at navigating complex social situations, because he's good at reading people. Having had a history with extreme emotions, he knows how to take them into account, and knows how important it is to do so, even if it's not necessarily logical. I hate to say this, but he's very emotionally intelligent, which sounds kinda like an insult but is actually insanely valuable, because humans are inherently emotional creatures.

He's got a solid basis of common sense, and is constantly looking at the bigger picture. That's why he can come up with the best outline for a plan, because he can not think through the details. Now, if he tries to implement a plan of his without consulting others, he's probably going to miss some very important details, and screw himself over. But, he's most likely to have the best basic premise for an effective plan. This is why his intuition is usually correct. He's not logically thinking through the most likely scenario given all available factors, he's looking at every problem from the birds eye view, and is easily able to fill in the blanks, because he sees the whole picture. You can not tell me this kid knew Lloyd was the Green Ninja because he used logical deduction to eliminate all other possibilities, he had a gut feeling based on realizing the value of human life.

Now, sometimes you need details. And Kai is not good at those. He sucks at those. Big time. But he's self aware enough to know when those times are (most of the time, sometimes he wastes all his lives in a video game before talking to anyone else).

The thing all of these points have in common is that he's lived a very full life while making very many mistakes, and he's learned from all of them. He learns from his dumb mistakes, and is wise enough to know which lessons are worth holding on to.

Jay on the other hand... does not learn from his mistakes. He's got a real thick skull.

Inside that skull is a really smart guy who intuitively latches on to engineering and science concepts. He's got a whole heck of a lot of information that his brain is holding onto simply because it can. This man is all about the details. He gets hyperfixated on details to the point where it's a problem. He's the most likely to solve the intricate problem facing the team, forget that they need to stay hidden, and yell "I did it!". Good at details, bad at big picture. This is also why he usually gives up hope so easily compared to the rest of the team. He can not think long term, he can not see the bigger picture like Kai can, so road blocks in the current plan seem insurmountable.

Sure, he might have rigged an old sailing ship with rocket boosters, but he couldn't unscramble "darnagom" his logical problem solving skills are not what's carrying him.

My standby for the Jay dumb/smart duality is that he should have a significant amount of William Osman energy to him. He's very smart, and can work out how to solve intricate problems and make insane builds, but if making said things is a dangerous or dumb idea has never once crossed his mind, and if it has, he has actively chosen to ignore it. Jay's intelligence is much more creativity based than I think a lot of people like to think. Engineering is about slapping crazy ideas together which barely hold together at first- and that's Jay's brand of smarts.

If you compare this to Zane, that's the vital component that his intelligence is missing- the creativity. He is VERY good at assessing options, but not so great at coming up with new solutions himself. He's running on pure logic and tested successes. He's also missing that social intelligence that Kai has. I'd venture to say that Zane is, by far the most gullible member of the team. If there is not a solid logical reason to doubt something, he is absolutely going to take it at face value. Point being, all the ninja have different smarts, and stupidities, let's not try to conflate them too much.

[max1461]

A feature I don't like that is present to varying degrees in textbooks in basically every field besides pure math is that they don't feel very "skeptical". A math book doesn't just claim things, it also includes proofs, i.e. it tells you how we know that those things are true. My experience with textbooks in e.g. biology is that they don't even attempt this; they just assert shit about how the cell works or whatever. I really don't like this. Obviously it would be impossible to convince the reader of your claims in a biology text the same way a math text can, but I'd appreciate if these books at least gave me some direction in looking into the evidence for the claim.

Actually, linguistics books are pretty good about this too. I'll give credit to the Chomskyans and add that generative syntax books tend to do this especially well. I think this is because the basic methodological tool of generative syntax is the native speaker grammaticality judgement, and (unfortunate as it may be) a large proportion of generativist work has been on English. The upshot is that if you're a native speaker of English and you read a syntax claim, you can just test out a couple example sentences yourself to see if it holds up. Even when the language under discussion isn't English, it's convention to include example sentences from the object language which illustrate the analysis. The result is that you get to see the exact data, or at least illustrative examples of the data, that the given syntactic hypothesis is trying to model. So you know roughly how that hypothesis was arrived at, you know why somebody would think that.

My problem reading econ texts and even physics text in the past has been that they posit all these abstractions, they posit things like "real GDP" or "force" or whatever, and they don't do a good job of grounding these things concretely—that is to say, framing them in terms of things I have immediate access to, like my reasoning faculties or my powers of observation. I just have to take their word that there's a thing called "force" and it obeys this law, and what is it exactly? Don't worry about that.

Note that I don't have this problem with "mass" because the concept of a scale (like an old school scale, with the lever and the two plates) is familiar to me; I can conceptualize what mass is in terms of a straightforward empirical comparison between objects that I could do, even if I have to take the book's word for e.g. the mass of a baseball or whatever. Same with size, because I know about rulers.

I think physics books could do this better, they could be more skeptical, concrete, and grounded, but they mostly aren't. I've talked before about how most people consider math very abstract, but it feels concrete to me in this sense. A mathematician can tell me exactly what an abelian group is in a way that I can write down and work with, but it's harder for a physicist to tell me exactly what a field is (even in terms of a purely empirical operational definition).

I've made this whole post before, and better. But I'm making it again.

[givrally]

You can't say "Everything humans make is art" right after a whole tirade about how AI isn't art.

Hi op here

I CAN actually.

The machine made to make "AI" is art. Its engineering+programming. Which are crafts and a highly difficult ones.

What that machine makes however is NOT art. Its not even true artificial intelligence. Its just a bunch of stolen work cut up and pieced back together using complicated programming. What is produced is not art. What made it however is. Its a feat of accomplishment that we can get a machine to do that kind of stuff

But what it makes is not art.

Feel like @snitchanon would have a field day with all this.

So Photoshop itself is art, but works done in photoshop aren't art ? It's engineering and programming, but what it makes is not art. It's just clicking buttons and dragging the mouse until you get what you want.

As for true AI, yeah, I actually agree with you in no small part. What we call "AI" right now is nowhere close to having any kind of intelligence, we're basically making a very complicated math function with many parameters and tweaking it until it spits out the right output. There's very little explainability (it's a black box for the most part, we don't know what goes on inside or why this particular input), and every year there's a paper titled something like "We Fucked Up : How we evaluate [field of deep learning] is flawed and gives the illusion of progress".

As for the ethical issues with using stolen works, yeah, I'm completely with you, that's a dealbreaker for me, and unlearning (=getting from a model trained on a dataset to a model trained on a dataset w/o some data, without having to retrain everything, but being 100% sure the excluded data doesn't leave a single trace) is too new as a subject of research to even be usable for the next few years, so for me, AI Art generators are a big no-no.

(Also, the online ones take as much of your personal data as they can, so I'd avoid those like the plague)

HOWEVER, what "AI" image generation does isn't to cut up stolen work and put it back together, that's a myth. I don't know how this started but I've heard that said like three or four times already, it's way too specific a definition to have evolved independently so there must be a Youtuber out there to blame.

It's like saying Photoshop just takes pixels from stolen works and weaves them in the right order to make a new image. That's technically true, but it's a stupid definition that gives Photoshop way more credit than it's due. Likewise, AI image generators don't look through a database to find the right image, cut out the part they like, and add it to their final product. Otherwise, why do you think AI art would have all those problems with hands, buildings, etc... ? There can't be that many people out there drawing weird 7 fingered hands, I know some people have trouble drawing hands but not to that extent.

What they do instead (or rather what they did, because I don't know enough about the newest diffusion models to explain them in an intuitive way), is deconvolutions, basically "reversing" the operation (convolutions) that takes in a grid of numbers (image) and reduces it to a small list of numbers. With deconvolutions, you give it a small list of numbers, at random, and it slowly unravels that into an image. Without tweaking the thousands or millions of parameters, you're gonna end up with random noise as an image.

To "train" those, what you do is you pair it with another "AI", called a discriminator, that will do convolutions instead to try and guess whether the image is real or made by the generator. The generator will learn to fool the discriminator and the discriminator will try to find the flaws in the generator.

Think Youtube vs AdBlock. Adblockers are the discriminator and Youtube is the generator. Youtube puts out new ads and pop-ups that don't trigger ad blockers, and ad blockers in return fix those flaws and block the ads. After a month of fighting, it turns out ad blockers have become so good that other websites have a lot of trouble getting ads past them. You've "trained" ad blockers.

The most important thing to note is that the training data isn't kept in storage by the models, both in the adblock example and in AI image generators. It doesn't pick and choose parts to use, it's just that the millions of tiny parameters were modified thanks to the training data. You can sometimes see parts of the training data shine through, though. That's called overfitting, and it's very bad !

In the middle, the model won't remember every O and X out there. It drew a curve that roughly separates the two, and depending on where a new point falls compared to that curve, it can guess if it's an O or an X without having access to the original data. However, in the example on the right, even if you remove all the O and X marks, you can still make out the individual points and guess that those holes mean an X was in there. The model cannot generalize past what it's seen, and if there's ten thousand variables instead of just two, that means you could change a single one slightly and get nonsense results. The model simply hasn't learned correctly. For image generation, that means parts of the training data can sometimes shine through, which is probably how the "cut up and piece back stolen images" myth came to be.

The reason I don't like to use AI image generators is twofold : 1. Right now, all the models out there have or are likely to have seen stolen data in their training dataset. In the state of AI right now, I really don't believe any model out there is free of overfitting, so parts of that will shine through. 2. Even if there's no overfitting, I don't think it's very ethical at all. (And 3. the quality just isn't there and I'd rather commission an artist)

HOWEVER, that doesn't mean I agree with you guys' new luddite movement. "Everything humans make is art except when they use AI" is not a good argument, just like "It's not art because you didn't move the pixels yourself" or "AI cuts up and pieces back stolen images". The first two give "I piss in Duchamp's fountain uncritically" vibes, and the last one gives "Don Quixote fighting windmills" vibes.

[palmtreepalmtree]

Alright, everyone. This probably will not be a long one because... oof... but without further ado, this is...

THE WORST MOVIE ON NETFLIX RIGHT NOW

Today, I am pleased to present A Family Affair, starring Nicole Kidman, Zac Efron, and Joey King.

The premise for this very questionable movie is that Zara (King) is a personal assistant to the man-child movie star, Chris (Efron), and is horrified when her widowed mother, Brooke (Kidman) starts sleeping with him.

There's so much that's wrong with this movie, it's hard to figure out where to begin. I've watched it twice now to try to put my finger on the problem. The biggest issue here is that none of this feels particularly real -- definitely not King's acting, Efron's character, and least of all Kidman's wig.

ARITHMETIC

Even after watching this movie twice, I found myself spending way too much time trying to do some mental math in the middle to make everyone's ages make sense. Especially when they threw in Kathy Bates as Kidman's mother-in-law. Like... I think it works???

But it's fucking distracting.

The movie never meaningfully addresses the age gap between Kidman and Efron. On the one hand, sure. They wouldn't touch it if the genders were reversed. But that also feels disingenuous since Efron's character is hounded by paparazzi. You're telling me this schmuck who obsesses about his brand as an actor never has a single moment of insecurity about dating an older woman!?!?!? PLEASE.

FAKE FANTASY

It feels at times like this movie is a fantasy every which way you look at it, except for in the way that matters. As a viewer, I want to get swept up in the fantasy -- what if I had a meet-cute with a movie star!? What if I was a published novelist, with beachfront property in Malibu, and an entire closet of couture dresses that Vogue sent me and that could fit me?! What if I could afford a luxury SUV on an assistant's salary?!? What if Big Bear actually looked like that in the snow!?

The thing is, all of this falls so flat, you can't get lost in it as a viewer. And it's not funny or charming enough to keep you interested in the story or get you invested in the relationships.

HATEABLE

I regret to inform you there's not a single likeable character in this movie. The Zac Efron movie star feels like it was written from the whispers of disgruntled assistants. It's just TOO AWFUL. And while at times it can be funny, it's hard to believe that Nicole's character could ever fall for him.

Look, I don't know if you know this, but movie stars, especially ones who mostly get by on looks, are VERY CHARMING. This is part of how they get cast. But in this movie, we never see this motherfucker be charming. Not even once.

Joey's character is probably right for objecting so hard to this relationship, but she spends so much of the movie just screaming about things, it's really fucking hard to be rooting for her. Also, she's obviously a rich kid. Like MALIBU RICH.

And Nicole... like... I have so many questions... like... look I hate that this is where we're at with things, but there's something uncanny valley about her face and her hair through the whole movie. It's kinda hard to watch her or feel anything for her. That must be a wig. It must be. And it's just so awful the whole time. This is such a far-cry from how she looked in Big Little Lies. WHAT HAPPENED.

THE IDEA OF YOU PROBLEM

Look, the biggest issue here is that this movie gets wrong all of the things that The Idea of You got right. Where A Family Affair ignores the age gap, The Idea of You wrestles with it as a central part of its plot. While A Family Affair dresses Nicole in horribly unattractive clothes, The Idea of You puts Anne Hathaway in a stunning, sexy wardrobe.

WHO DID THIS TO YOU NICOLE!?!?

While both films present fantasy lives for their leading ladies (a novelist and an art gallery owner), The Idea of You seems somehow more real and thus attainable as fantasy (a craftsman house in Silverlake as opposed to a beachfront mansion in Malibu). While A Family Affair alludes to sex and romance, it doesn't have even a hint of the sex appeal and romance of The Idea of You. It's never even clear what Nicole's character sees in Zac's, beyond his body, even once the relationship has begun to carry on and clearly affect her emotionally.

In many ways, these films are mirrors of each other. Neither of these are perfect movies, and they share a lot of similar story beats and themes: the relationships, including mother-daughter, fame and celebrity, solo female success, betrayal of the spouse, and so on and so forth.

But A Family Affair is basically the funhouse mirror version of the story. It may make you giggle a couple times, but you're not going to stand there taking it in for very long. Best to just move on and forget you ever saw it.

[gabessquishytum]

So we’ve seen a lot of Mafia AU stuff, but may I add my Mob Collections Department Hob to the mix?

Morpheus’ heart flutters a little in his chest when he opens the door one day to a stranger, a gentle professor-looking guy with a messenger bag slung across his chest. But then the man slips his hand into the bag and pulls out a crowbar. His deep chocolate eyes go hard as he steps over the threshold, and Morpheus instinctively retreats.

He knows exactly who this must be. This is the guy who breaks your fucking kneecaps or legs or fingers or whatever when you can’t pay back what you’ve borrowed.

Morpheus knew he shouldn’t’ve gone to a Mob loan shark to pay for Art School, but his family wouldn’t help him get a “useless” degree, wouldn’t cosign the loans, and he won’t be 24 till the end of this year, so he can’t even be considered independent! What the fuck else was he supposed to do?!

The stupid thing is, his heart is still fluttering.

Actually, it’s fluttering harder. There's a distinct possibility that Morpheus’ circulatory system is deeply confused and currently mistaking terror for arousal.

“I… I’m an artist,” Morpheus stammers. Maybe he can live without functional kneecaps, but if this guy smashes his fingers, he’ll be destroyed.

Hob nods, casually resting the crowbar against the back of his own neck as he looks around. He’s in no rush. His target is a skinny pale thing that Hob is pretty sure he could break across his knee if he had to. He hopes he doesn’t have to. Sometimes just walking in the front door is enough to get people scrambling for the cash they “forgot” to pay. Though… this poor guy might not be so lucky. The man Hob’s been sent after today — what was his fancy name? Morpheus?  — lives in a nearly empty studio apartment, entirely furnished with vivid canvases and one fold-out mattress on the floor. Hob reaches back to lock the door while he takes in the expansive scenes of… some fantasy world? It’s like nothing he’s ever seen. A dreamy mix of magical creatures, starry galaxies, keen eyed ravens, and glittering abstractions. 

Well, maybe if he’d gone into graphic design — made some boring logos or something — he’d’ve been able to pay his bills.

Morpheus is madly tallying his resources in his brain.

He’s got about 18$ coming in from Patreon. If he does a sale on prints, he might be able to move a few extra, but the profit would be less… He’s already skipped anything fresh at the grocery store this week, subsisting on spaghetti, diced tomatoes, and baked beans — the only things the calories-per-dollar calculation would allow. 

No matter how he does the math, it comes up short. 

When the man takes a silent step toward him, Morpheus panics. His mind goes utterly blank. His heart is still doing it’s fucking stupid thing. 

He kisses the man.

Hob’s used to this. Plenty of people try to pay their debts with their carnal talents. He’s not usually interested. The problem is this: Morpheus is hot. The kiss is deep and warm and… feels oddly real? Like genuinely passionate? Morpheus’ long fingers send tantalizing chills through Hob’s skin. Now, the broke artist is sliding to his knees, and when he looks up, his pupils are so thick with arousal that his blue eyes are almost black.

Sigh. 

Fine. He can suck Hob’s cock this one time, and Hob will take care of this payment out of his own pocket. He gets paid well and is good at his job — people like him, he's not your typical goon, he's pleasant until he needs to be otherwise, and gives them every chance to search the couch cushions, so to speak. So the cash isn’t much to him. But in this business, paying other people’s debts is a bad habit to get into. Anyone would go broke doing that. 

But Morpheus’s lips feel so good, and Morpheus is, like, into it. Like laving Hob’s balls and working his fingers into his cleft and over his asshole. He opens his throat so Hob can really ram himself down there. And by the time Hob comes (gritting his teeth & trying/failing to tell himself it’s not that good), he actually feels kinda bad that he’s gotten such a good deal on a quality blow job.

Two weeks later, Hob is resolved to be the consummate professional — strictly cracking bones or collecting cash, whichever’s appropriate, but definitely not getting off on the clock.

But Morpheus opens the door without hesitation, and he’s wearing black joggers, slung low on his jutting hips, and… a lacy body suit that plunges almost to his naval, is so high cut it frames said hips, and is sheer enough in the right places that his pale rose nipples poke through deliciously.

SIGH.

Fucking fine. 

Hob can bend Morpheus over the counter and fuck him hard this one time. But he makes sure to get in a few good hard spanks on that creamy ass. Hob’s not completely derelict in his duties, and this is an enforcement job.

(This is not even remotely the deterrent he hopes it is. For the next two weeks, every time Morpheus squirms as he sits on his bare hard floor as he paints, he will think of Hob’s sharp hands. Even when the pain fades, he will recall it acutely in his imagination as he strokes himself.)

And Hob pays Morpheus’s second installment.

It might surprise you to learn that the interest on a Mob loan shark’s loan is… not exactly competitive. By the third time Hob visits, the amount owed has barely gone down, thanks to sky-high rates that would put the payday lenders to shame. The third payment would be massive for anyone, but for a starving artist it’s catastrophic. 

But Morpheus is creative and determined to give Hob the full value. 

This time, Hob spends the entire night on Morpheus’s folding mattress on the floor discovering new ways to come undone in the artist’s clever hands and pulling Morpheus apart in turn. (Figuratively.) Morpheus begs to take his punishment from the sharp sting of Hob’s hands again, and Hob turns his backside beet red as every moan and cry from Morpheus’ lips goes right to his dick until he’s jerking himself off and coming on Morpheus’s back, marking him like he’s Hob’s own. Like neither of them belong to some cranky old Mob boss, but it’s just them, signing their names into each other’s skin.

By morning, they’re lying in each other’s arms and just talking. 

Morpheus tells Hob about going to Art School even after his parents tried to force him into something useful. He confesses the difficulties of making a living as an artist and on the internet especially. It’s not as easy as people think. He would do something else, but the pictures in his head just need to come out. Exhausted and trembling, he speaks of the way they grow in his unconscious, expanding to take up everything else, bringing chaos and cracks in his foundations if he doesn’t give them form and allow them an orderly outlet on the canvas.

Hob holds Morpheus tight to his chest as if that could ease the pain there, and he opens up, too. Hob didn’t used to be this. He was a History professor! He has no right forcing other people to make money! But then his wife had gotten ill. And this doctor — an arrogant prick who’d never taken anyone’s concerns seriously, who had years of secret complaints against him but was too much of a “star” to get fired — botched the surgery. And Eleanor and their unborn babe had died on the table. Hob had gotten a — frankly insulting — settlement from the hospital. Then he’d hunted down the doctor (who’d had connections in some shadowy parts of town — he hadn’t become a star by being good at medicine), and taken his revenge. The underworld had taken notice. 

And this paid a lot better than adjunct work.

Plus, unlike at the university, Hob’s skills are appreciated. Most humans of the twenty-first century are a lot easier to find and pick apart than the evidence on post-plague upheavals in labor relations in the fourteenth century, and Hob spent seven years doing that for his PhD. He’s persistent and meticulous. Not sloppy like some enforcers. Hob knows how to cause damage that hurts like hell but heals well. He’s done his research. (Something he’s finally getting paid for after over a decade in academia!)

Hob doesn’t even like debt collecting! It’s not his calling. When he’d been slogging through History essays, he’d fantasized about opening a pub. Sometimes he still does — his skills could come in useful breaking up bar fights, throwing out the jerks, keeping things peaceful. 

As the sun comes up, he kisses Morpheus softly on his lips. 

He pays the massive third installment.

On the fourth visit, Hob slips his hand into the messenger bag again and Morpheus’ heart thuds in something like fear. But instead of the crowbar, he pulls out a thick, wooden paddle. When his eyes rise to meet Morpheus’, there’s only a little of that old hardness left but mostly a question. Morpheus moans at the sight, the blood already shooting to his cock.

He really should borrow money from the Mob more often. 

He lets Hob bend him over the counter and ply the paddle all over his ass till he’s crying and begging for release. And then Hob is fucking him and biting into the meat of his shoulder and stroking him hard and fast as he thrusts against Morpheus’ bruised ass. They wind up tangled in the sheets long past morning. (The fourth payment is even bigger than the third.)

At some point, as Morpheus is boiling spaghetti for two, Hob decides fuck this job. 

Of course, it’s the Mob, so he can’t just put in his two week’s notice & shit on the boss’s desk like decent people do. So later, Hob — whose a genuinely nice guy when he isn’t cracking your skeleton & has built up his own little following within the business — pulls a Red Wedding and eliminates the entire current leadership. Fuck those guys. They were assholes anyway. People are happier now. (Anyone who wouldn’t be happy was invited to the wedding.)

Hob doesn’t actually want to take on the responsibility of a large crime syndicate, so he hands the reins over to a trusted buddy. Then he and Morpheus get the fuck outta there and start new lives in the big city where Morpheus can do real art shows and Hob can run his pub and feed Morpheus only the freshest food and lots of it, and every beating is strictly desired and thoroughly appreciated and never involves a crowbar.

BESTIE THIS IS SO GOOD!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW GOOD THIS IS. This is the most amazing mini fic.

Ngl I wish Hob would come around here with his "crowbar"

Honestly I love this concept of Mob Hob so much. I feel like it works so well with his canon storyline. It's not hard to imagine him reluctantly (but very effectively) smashing in kneecaps. And yeah he feels bad about it, but hey. Hob has had his own struggles and he wants to keep a roof over his head.

But he's not immune to a pretty little Dream, huh? He's not a nice guy, he just wants to get his dick wet. He's not in love or anything. I mean, he's not gonna shake up his entire life and risk everything by going up against the gang he's supposed to be working for.

.......right? 👀❤

[skwpr]

A simple representation of images does not offer enough for proper memorization.

Study Faster And Retain More With This Quick Tip

I don’t know a single student who doesn’t want to study faster and retain more at the same time. I usually get a little nervous when trying to use quick fixes to make this happen, but today I have an actual quick tip to help you do just this!

Being a problem solver by nature, I dug into the situation and tried a few new approaches. Some worked, and some did not.

One of my best strategies was to sort the information into two categories:

facts to be memorized

concepts to be understood

You can use this strategy for any course. No matter the subject, there are things you have to memorize (terminology, dates, names, equations, etc) and concepts you need to master. Identifying this creates a clear, drama-free path, meaning you actually study faster and retain more because you are working on the right information in the right way.

How To Memorize Facts

I used to hate memorization work. It seemed tedious and hard and I sucked at it. Or so I thought!

Turns out I just didn’t have good skills. now I have some strategies in my toolbox and I love fact work. It’s easy and you can master it quickly. The key to mastering memorization is to:

Keep a list of what you need to memorize.

Schedule time every day to work on it. You must have the daily repetition if you want new facts to stick in your short-term memory. Start with just 10-min each day and you will see results.

Vary your memorization strategies. If you use only one strategy it becomes less effective.

How To Master Concepts

How you approach concept mastery is going to vary a lot based on the subject you are studying. There are two strategies to help with every subject:

1. Hands-On Practice

You will never fully master a concept through reading about it. You learn the concept through reading, but there is a big difference between learning something and mastering it.

The basics of hands-on practice for any subject are to come up with an applicable problem and solve it. Then come up with another problem and solve it too. Here are a few ideas, by subject, of how you might practice:

literature – Read a book or short story and write an analysis of whatever focus you are working on.

computer science – Come up with a problem and solve it with real code.

graphic design – Imagine a client asked you to design something, and create 3 different solutions for them.

math – Pick an equation, make up some starting numbers, and solve it.

science – Define a hypothesis, create a simple experiment, get in the lab and execute it!

2. Explain Or Teach It To Someone Else

Want to be certain you have mastered and fully understand a concept? Teach it to someone else.

As a teacher myself, I can tell you there have been plenty of concepts I thought I knew really well until I tried explaining them to someone else. You need a thorough understanding yourself before you can help someone else understand it.

Enlist the help of a friend or family member and try to explain a major concept in a few minutes. If you struggle, make note of the sticky spots. They are exactly what you need to work on next.

If you have no problem explaining it and your friend understood everything, mark it off your list and move on to the next concept.

I hope this quick strategy helps you dig out of confusion and take the right action in order to study faster and retain more.

Try It Yourself: 20-Minute Challenge

Grab your notes, a fresh piece of paper, and a timer.

Set the timer for 15 minutes.

Go through your notes and sort every piece of information into one of the two categories: concept or fact Challenge yourself to do this before the timer goes off. Go with your first instinct if you aren’t sure.

Spend the next 5 minutes and map out your next steps.

How and when will you work on the memorization each day?

How will you approach the first concept?

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

These Are Not Our Masks Chapter 7!

@daboyau

@that-0n3-shr00mi3-guy

@iobsesswaytoomuch

@sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

@dluebirb

@burritello3000

Mikey screams again, falling backwards in an attempt to get away.

Leo’s mask tilts and stares him down with the black, soulless part that covers his eyes.

Mikey scrambles back until his shell hits a wall.

“What did you do!?”

Leo’s head turns towards the blood on the floor before he looks back at Mikey.

“It’s pretty clear what I did. Do you need to see it again?”

Mikey shakes his head almost immediately.

“I-Is he-“

“Dead? That’s up to him. If he’s not stubborn and gets himself treatment from an actual doctor instead of trying to fix himself up with his fake degree.” Leo says, voice dripping with disdain.

Mikey did not see any of this coming.

Not by a long shot.

“I-I thought you were working for him-“

“That’s what I wanted you to think! That’s what I wanted everyone to think! Including him. I was biding my time until he finally showed me what I needed.” Leo picks up Mikey’s mask from the floor.

Mikey’s eyes follow the movement.

“The mask…?”

“How to make it. That’s all he was good for. Now we can really complete the set!”

Footsteps signal the arrival of two more people.

Mikey looks up in horror.

Raph and Donnie.

Leo’s body language seems giddy as he twists around to look at them. He sets the mask down on a table.

“Took you longer than I thought to show up!”

Raph snarls at him.

“You come after us for not followin orders and then merc the boss? We ain’t just sitting by and takin it! You’re gonna bring him back and then you’re gonna take punishment.”

Donnie holds out his hands, they’re gloved and letting out sparks.

“Oh please, let me do it.”

Leo’s body shakes like he’s laughing hysterically, but no sound comes out.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say it’s Draxum making you so stupid! You’re outnumbered!”

“Check your math, inferior. There’s four people in this room.” Donnie corrects.

“And only one person fighting a winning battle.” He shakes more.

“Quit playin games.” Raph hisses.

Leo finally let’s out the manic cackling that’s been building up.

“But I love games! I want to play the one where you guess how many bones I’ll break!”

“No! Leo! Don’t!” Mikey screams.

“Aww, of course Leo won’t.” He promises.

Raph comes at him first, fist cocked to connect with Leo’s jaw. Leo doesn’t move an inch, opening a portal right in front of him. Another portal opens next to Donnie, causing him to get hit hard enough to make a dent in the floor when he falls.

“Artemis will.”

Mikey screams again. His throat is starting to hurt from how much he’s doing it. He stands up and tries to get to Donnie, but Leo shoves his arm hard across his plastron.

“You know that feeling of wanting to help that you keep making everyone else’s problem? Take it and shove it down deep inside or I’ll make you, got it? SUCK IT UP ALREADY!” Leo hisses, moving his hand grabbing Mikey’s head before tossing him to the ground again.

Mikey lands on his shell, yelping in pain.

Raph goes into a frenzy.

He starts attacking without any real strategy or direction. Raph just wants to hit him. Leo ducks and weaves, not moving quickly, but just enough to keep Raph’s attention trained on him and only him.

“What’s wrong, Atlas? Afraid for them? Ah ah ah, what did you just say about not behaving correctly?” Leo hops back.

Mikey doesn’t have a single clue about what to do right now. Is Leo on his side? Should be help Raph and Donnie? He can’t exactly escape, Leo is way too fast and ready to hurt him if he tries.

Can he really just watch and do nothing?

Does he have a choice?

Leo hides his hands behind his back and makes another portal. Mikey can see how he slows down slightly, hands appearing in a portal again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until he sees the movement of Donnie’s gloves being pulled off his hands.

Raph slashes at Leo with sharp claws only for his body to start jolting at the electricity running through it. Leo has a glove pressed to Raph’s neck and holds it there until the snapping turtle falls to a knee.

“This is the way you’ve always been, huh, Atlas? Stubborn to a fault, and for what? Nobody appreciates what you do. A defender, a protector, former leader, wasted in a rage filled beast who can’t bare to be alone. Go to sleep. I’ll be taking over the show.” He presses the other glove to him.

Raph falls over completely, twitching.

Leo tosses the gloves into yet another portal.

Donnie pathetically drags himself over to Raph once he has an ounce of consciousness and lays over his arm.

Leo giggles, the sound echoing in Mikey’s ears.

This isn’t Leo. It’s not by a long shot. It isn’t Draxum either, it’s a completely different evil that’s more heinous than anything they’ve encountered before.

Whatever it is has his brother under its grip.

He can’t get anyone back if Leo is like this. He won’t let him.

An idea pops into his head.

There’s one thing Leo has tried to stop this entire time, even when it hasn’t made sense, especially when he said he wanted it to happen.

While Leo is distracted by having Foot ninja come in and remove their injured brothers, Mikey shakily grabs the mask.

Leo quickly spins around as he hears metal move off the table. His head tilts once more.

“Icarus, what do you think you’re doing?”

Mikey swallows hard, hands still shaking as he holds it in his hands. He can feel the evil radiating off such a deceptively cute mask.

“Y-You don’t want me wearing this yet. T-Tell me what you’re planning. Wh-Why you’ve gone against Draxum. Wh-Who’s actually in control!”

He wishes that he could be as tough as nails as he needs to be when demanding such a thing, but it’s so hard to muster that after what he’s seen and who he’s talking to.

Leo stares at him.

Mikey feels his nerves on absolute edge.

Leo starts circling around him.

Mikey gets the odd sensation of being a fish in a fish bowl while a cat tries to figure out a way inside.

Or a way to get the fish out.

“Finally….” Leo mutters.

“What…?”

“FINALLY! I’ve been trying to rip your heart out from your brain this whole time! You still went way too soft but I can work with that!”

Leo grabs Mikey’s arm and starts pressing the mask closer to his face.

“Leo!”

“What!? I thought you wanted to threaten me! Take a good look at what’s going to happen to you!”

Mikey barely manages to keep the mask from being put on. He’s always been strong, but Leo is on another level right now. He shouldn’t be able to do this.

Mikey can see the tendrils reaching out towards him. It makes him sick to his stomach. This is the last thing his brothers saw before they lost themselves.

Think Mikey, think!

He said he wanted everyone to assume he was working for Draxum, but why? He said he needed to know how the mask is made to complete the set, but his mask finishes it!

Doesn’t it?

Why didn’t he want the mask on him before?

Why didn’t he hurt April or dad?

Why isn’t he trying harder?

Is he….stalling…?

His eyes widen as he pauses his struggle.

“You….you want to mask them too!?”

Leo rips the mask away.

“Ding ding ding! You finally get something right! That’s all I’m going to give you. Want some bonding time? No? Too bad.”

Mikey feels the ground under him vanish as he falls through a portal. He lands on a cement floor and groans in pain. His eyes are drawn to the bars in front of him. Leo really put him in a cell. He’s gone full supervillain, if that wasn’t obvious enough already.

Directly across from him, he sees that Donnie and Raph have their own, separate cells. It makes sense he’s keeping them apart. The way they are, they’d probably attack on sight.

Can those bars hold Raph back?

He hates how he has to hope they can. It’s not right to be this scared of his oldest brother. That’s only reserved for when he’s truly angry, lecturing about missed training or reckless behavior.

Raph is supposed to be the one who makes a scary world so much more bearable. The moment Mikey goes into his shell he knows who will be one of the first to grab and hold it tight, not letting go and silently promising to take care of him when he’s too overwhelmed.

He’s taken it so much for granted. He knows that. Mikey always assumed that he’d just have Raph doing things for him for….ever. He thought he’d always have Raph period.

His eyes move to Donnie next.

He’s still out cold.

When will he wake up?

He will wake up, right?

Raph hit him pretty hard.

Donnie would probably hate Mikey thinking like that. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak. He already covers up the shell he was born with to ease the anxiety of having it at all.

Donnie wishes he was as gruff and tough as he tries to make himself out to be. Behind every evil laugh and joke about hurting his brothers, there’s a longing to be more connected to them. To understand each other.

Mikey starts whining and whimpering. Two of his brothers are right there in front of him and he feels more alone than ever. He can’t be brave. It’s impossible.

“…Icarus…..” A soft hiss draws his attention back.

Mikey rushes to the bars, grabbing them and pressing himself close enough to squish his face.

“Donnie! Donnie, are you okay!?”

He’s sat up, gripping the bars tightly himself.

“What do you think!? That pathetic, sniveling rat avoided punishment now but I will make him understand what it means to suffer!”

Mikey sighs.

Really, what was he expecting?

“You sat there and did nothing! You coward! Weakling!”

“Leave him alone….” Raph grumbles from his place on the floor.

Of course he’s-

Wait, what?

“R-Raph?”

“Ica-….Mikey….”

Mikey gasps, desperately reaching his arm through the gaps. Raph is way too far away for him to actually ever reach him but he wants to try anyways.

“Raph! Raph! Are you actually you!?”

Raph grips the mask on his face. It’s slightly loose, he attempts to pull on it but it only earns him a loud grunt in pain.

“I-I’m tryin to be. I-It’s hard.”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, I know you can do it! I just need to know how! You have to tell me why your mask is loose!”

Raph grumbles, still in pain and unable to think as clearly from the damage done to him.

“Shock, the shock, made….made everything hurt….it started….making it let go….but it’s coming back. It’s healing. It wants me back.”

“No! You have to fight it! Don’t let it take you again, please! I need you! I can’t do this by myself!” Mikey pleads, near tears.

Raph smiles at him. It’s genuine, but pain is written all over it.

“You….you can, Mikey. I know you think I d-don’t trust you, y-you think I won’t let you go on your own because I-I look down at you, but i-it’s not why. It’s m-me. I’m scared. F-For you. I….want to protect you….I need to….I have to….I believe in you!”

Mikey’s tears flow freely now.

He’s losing him.

Again.

He blinks the tears away hard as he watches the mask slip itself more into place, taking his brother away and leaving something awful instead.

Raph hisses and clicks, Donnie responding to it in turn.

Mikey knows now what he has to do.

It will hurt them, it’s going to be incredibly difficult at best, and it might kill him at worst to try.

He still has to to try.