#views module

[specbee-c-s]

Showcase Your Content as Page and Block Views in Drupal

Learn how to effectively showcase your content as Page and Block views in Drupal by leveraging the power of the Views module. Discover step-by-step instructions to create dynamic and customizable displays, enhancing your website's user experience and content management capabilities.

[broken-risk-assessment-module]

rip secunit 3 😔😔😔 you're not dead but you would have loved saving the lives of a whole colony of innocent humans by making a factually honest and emotionally compelling documentary 😔😔😔

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[kaito-module-of-the-day]

Today's KAITO module of the day is:

Cendrillion by Abandon Ranka!

[runawaymarbles]

The midjourney stuff just reminds of when we were trying to find a new platform to host the ao3 donation form, and companies kept trying to tell me about all their "ai" features that would track donor engagement, and figure out the optimal pattern to email individual donors asking for follow up donations, and all the ways they suggest we manipulate people into staying on our websites. It was a great way to filter out who either wasn't listening to us when we described our ethics and donor base, or just didn't believe us.

Now granted ao3 is a unique case based on a) the amount of page views we get in any given time period and b) the fact that most donors absolutely do Not want to be identified as such anywhere, (the default "list of recent donors" module got nuked Immediately) but it surprised me some that the concept of "donors who value their privacy and would be furious at even the whiff of AI" is unique. Some of us really are just existing in different worlds.

[specbee-c-s]

Exploring the Drupal Views module

Sure you’ve worked with the Views module in Drupal but have you made the most of it? Get the full breakdown of its features and learn how to create dynamic displays in this article.

[cameramanufacturer]

How Camera ISP Tuning Transforms Your Image Quality Processing?

In a 2024 digital era where approximately 3.2 billion images are posted on the web daily, helpful for effortlessly capturing life's moments. Have you ever thought about how a camera takes a high-quality image? In this blog, we will learn how CK Visions Camera ISP Tuning Transforms Your Image Quality Processing and captures a perfect shot every time.

Learn More

[oh-dameron]

-Network Effect, ch8

Is it proof that ART was holding out on MB? If ART has the array of internal sensors that MB describes would it also need cameras? What for? It can sense and understand everything going on inside itself just fine. When the humans need to see another part of the ship it doesn't give them a camera view, it whips up a hologram. ART is a deep-space research vessel, the visual input it's used to getting is probably more like the James Webb space telescope than a security camera. And once it made friends with SecUnit in AC there was no particular reason not to allow camera access: there was no-one else on board to spy on and its research modules weren't attached.

If, however, you're a humungous space reaseach ship and you're used to looking at supernovas way the fuck over there and using your spidey-senses for stuff happening in your hull then it makes sense that visual media might not grab you. It's not encoded with heat, density, motion: it's mostly just optical. Which, you're a hyperintelligent supercomputer, you can parse it into a format that you can understand, but. Ugh. Why? There isn't even any gravitational lensing. It's like reading something boring in a language that you've got a rudimentary grasp of but aren't fluent in: you can do it if you make the time and effort but it's a lot of work for something that isn't even fun.

And then Murderbot shows up and gives it a three-week intensive course on Why Visual Input Is Fun, Actually. It gets a lot of practise and ART learns very quickly. So now that it's tagged and released Murderbot back into the wild it needs to upgrade its on-board systems to provide an appropriate habitat for once its multi-step plan to find it again and convince it to stay forever comes to fruition (hopefully the plan did not originally involve kidnapping).

[hrrtshape]

the barbie doll theory of self-concept.

in other words, the doctrine of self-concept, an airtight business plan, a smoke-and-mirrors operation, a hostile takeover of the psyche. full control, leveraged buyout. you, ltd. you, inc. you, an entity so exquisitely tailored to its own mythos that it ceases to be a person and becomes a brand, a movement, a trick of the light. the body is a boardroom, the soul is a stock option. the self? an asset. undervalued. prime for acquisition.

you are customisable down to the last detail. skin-tone slider, eye-shape toggle, voice modulation settings set to low, warm, hypnotic. every version of you is a prototype, a limited edition, a one-of-one collector's item with a bespoke finish. beta tested, A/B split, finessed in post. no imperfections, only intentional design choices. you are plastic, you are fantastic, you are fully modular and infinitely iteratable. each trait a negotiable commodity, each flaw a brandable quirk. you don't just adapt to trends. you are the trend.

you are the blueprint, the architect, the first mover and the final word. your reality is not a negotiation; it is a decree. the world does not happen to you, you happen to the world. it shifts, bends, contorts under the sheer force of your self-concept. perception is reality, and perception is yours to command. this is not wishful thinking. this is physics. this is law. universal. immutable. undeniable.

you are not hoping. you are not wanting. you are deciding. and decision is creation. every thought a prototype, every belief an assembly line, every assumption a factory press stamping out the inevitable. you think it, therefore it is. nothing more, nothing less.

do you know what you are? you are the protagonist. this is not a delusion; this is a statement of fact. you are the name in the credits. you are the golden girl in the third act. everyone else is a plot device, a warm body in the wings, a well-placed reaction shot. it is so easy. so insultingly, absurdly easy. what you assume, you become. what you declare, materialises. these are the terms, this is the fine print. read it and weep. or don't. we don't do weeping here.

this is not self-improvement. self-improvement is a midrange racket, a scam for people who think they need fixing. you don't need fixing. you need better lighting. you need sharper dialogue. you need a rewrite on that third act monologue, the one where you say something so devastatingly final that even the audience forgets to breathe. you need to take the pen.

you are not waiting in the wings. you are not the understudy. you are not sending out résumés for the role of yourself. you are the icon, the main event, the limited-release collector's doll still in its original packaging, mint condition, impossible to replicate, already priceless.

the world will try to tell you otherwise. it will tell you that you are just another iteration, another mass-produced model rolling off the assembly line of existence. it will insist that you are interchangeable, dispensable, a supporting character in somebody else's three-act structure.

and that's where you can laugh.

because they don't get it. they've never gotten it.

you are not up for debate. you are not a hypothesis. you are the inevitable conclusion. you are the source code. you are malibu dream house with an ocean view, pink corvette with the custom interior, every accessory sold separately but still fully yours.

and if reality refuses to match your vision?

you don't shrink. you don't settle. you don't negotiate with a world that has the audacity to misunderstand you.

you simply restyle, reshoot, and rewrite until the universe falls in line.

because you are the protagonist.

and the protagonist always gets the final cut.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 4: Don’t You Find It Strange? The Only Thing We Share Is One Last Name

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 (Here!) / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /

Water is meant to be clean. Its main purpose is to sustain the human body, which cannot survive without it. People have also given water many meanings and symbols throughout the centuries.

Purification. Life. Transformation. Change. Fluidity. Nurishment.

Water is meant to be something that heals.

Which is why Jason Todd felt unsettled by the dark brown pool in front of him.

Oracle had sent him the coordinates she managed to find from the police report Chief Gordon had given her later that night. He had found her near Grant Park, walking out of an empty alley and without a phone or a schoolbag. Confused, out of it, uniform drenched and ruined, and wound on the head.

He kicked a crushed soda can out of his way, landing in the murky water and making ripples on the surface. 

The nauseating feeling of disgust clawed at his stomach the more he looked at the pool.

It brought back memories. Memories he would rather keep buried.

‘She crawled out,’ he analyzed, flashlight pointed at the dried footsteps, wandering from the huge water print and towards the hole in the wired fence.

The flashlight was moved around, viewed on the ground, and over the bushes.

A sparkly glint that clashed with the light between the unkept leaves caught his attention. Crouching in front of the bushes, he reached out. Grabbing and pulling out the item so he could see it up close.

A purple, drenched schoolbag with silver charms hanging from its zipper. By how heavy it was, Jason figured out that the books and contents inside it were drenched as well.

“The bag fell into the pool as well.” he stood up, bag in hand, and looked back at the pool.

“But she didn’t fall with it. It was thrown after.” 

His boots crunched over broken glass, making him look down. There were two head bottles laid near the mess. They were probably thrown or fell by accident. It was recent, too, by how clean the glass looked. 

“Somebody came back…” he muttered to himself, moving what was left of the bottles with the front of his boot.

He lifted the bag, noticing how it still dripped heavily with water. It was too wet to have been taken out around the time of the event.

The bag had been taken out later. Way later. Probably a few minutes before he reached the place, if his instincts were to be trusted. It made his blood spike up underneath his veins, a heavy grunt pushed out of his modulator.

Someone had waited hours to get rid of the evidence.

Someone tried to get rid of her.

Someone tried to kill-

A distant voice interrupted his dark musings. Then, the sounds of shoes slipping and footsteps running off.

Jason didn’t hesitate to drop the bag and take out his gun, sprinting and jumping over the fence. Taking off towards whoever was trying to escape from him. Pulse palpitating, a dark feeling invading his chest as the thoughts of what he was going to do once he caught the bastard that dared to even look at her way.

It didn’t take long for gunshots, a body slamming against a metal dumpster, accompanied by grunts of pain, to be heard on a dark, blocked alley.

The person, a boy not older than eighteen, tried to crawl back as he yelled and cried from the pain in his leg. His jeans were turning dark from the blood and other fluids as the tall, imposing figure of Red Hood walked calmly towards him.

“Ple-please,” the boy whimpered out, body trembling, and a high-pitched noise escaping from his mouth once the vigilante crouched right by his side.

“It was just a prank! We swear!” he tried to cover his face, but Red shoved the gun in his face, making him stop.

“We? So there’s more of you?”

The boy went pale. Lips shaking. His head moved from different sides as if he couldn’t say yes or no to the questions of the masked man.

The gun was then shoved in his mouth, making him choke out a scream.

“Better start talkin’, boy.”

“Because you just made my night a fuckin’ hell.”

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

From the moment she woke up that morning, she should have known fate had it out for her. 

And given that it was also her first day in a new family, she should have been prepared for the absolute madness that went down that morning.

She knows someone down in hell had it out for her and was laughing their ass off.

Let’s divide the events so it can be easier to understand.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Falling back to sleep turned out to be a chore.

She was exhausted; that was given. And the soup and tea had been more than enough to put her in a very sleepy state. And she was knocked out the moment her head hit the pillow!

But, for some bullshit reasoning, her body decided that five hours of sleep was enough for her to regain her strenght after the whole thing that happened.

And to top it all, she felt alright. Even energized, to her shock! 

Her skin was strumming with adrenaline underneath, making her walk around the bedroom in circles to burn off some of the restlessness inside her body. It felt like a need, even. Just to do something with her legs.

Walk. Jump around. Bounce them while sitting down. Even try to jog in the same spot.

She tried to run around, but the limited space and almost knocking down the bookshelf put a quick stop to that. It was becoming annoying to the point that even her fingers drummed against the hardwood floor as she lay all sprawled out while staring at the ceiling. Soaking in the coldness so the uncomfortable sensation would calm down.

And why lie on the floor instead of walking around the halls where there was more space, or exploring her bedroom more thoroughly? Simple answer. 

Number 1: Because ain’t no way she's walking in the dark in a very obvious haunted house. She ain’t that dumb.

And number 2: It didn’t feel right to search someone’s belongings without permission. Even when that someone was no longer among the living.

Inhaling deeply, her gaze moved towards the stained glass window. Its colors painted across the room as the rising sunlight shone through the glass. Small particles of dust, changing between the colors as they floated around the air.

‘For such a lively room, it feels so lonely here…’

Her mind mused, a sudden sense of calm coming over her, and taking off some of the intensity of the restless feeling. She could feel like breathing again, eyes sliding closed slowly. 

The sensation of hands caressing her hair made her slip under more quickly.

Sweet sleep, finally…

Then her stomach decided to growl as if a freaking bear was inside of it.

2. Walking on dark halls should count as a sport.

Remembering her way to the kitchen wasn’t hard. Alfred had given her different clues on how to tell apart the halls, but he told her that he would fetch her the next morning for breakfast, and he would continue to do so until her head healed.

‘Well, too bad, Alfred. My stomach ain’t waiting any longer.’

Her thoughts complained, eyes bouncing from portrait to portrait. Arms wrapped around herself to keep the cold out. Because somehow, even while still wearing the thick sweats from the police station (they were comfy and she wasn’t touching the wardrobe unless she got some divine permission), the manor still managed to chill her to the bone.

Going back to the warm room was very tempting. Truly. But her stomach was almost eating itself in hunger. It was almost painful.

Why was she so hungry? She ate a few hours ago, and it feels like ages to her stomach.

Grumbling under her breath as she took a turn to the left, her body froze on the spot once her stare landed on the end of the hallway. Her heart almost going between coming to a stop or dropping to her feet.

There, in the hall, a tall, hunched figure walked slowly with a thick cloth over them. They were holding something between their hands, close to their chest. Pale hands standing out amongst the dark hallway.

She took a slow step back, wincing too loudly when the floor creaked under her weight.

Their head snapped toward the noise. Cornflower blue eyes with heavy, dark bags underneath and a very exhausted stare.

They stared at each other, neither moving nor even breathing. Until a male, confused voice came from the cloaked figure.

“You are not supposed to be up yet.”

His words snapped her out of the sudden scare, cold sweat going down her neck as she let out a heavy sigh. The cold hand of last night gripped her shoulder as she calmed down her heart palpitations.

Empty words. Ignored questions. Double-handed comments. Sarcastic answers. So much doubt. Condescending tones. Feeling dumb and stupid, and it hurts so much. You must have thought so hard about that. And why would I care? God, leave the thinking to someone else. Are you even trying? Surely you aren’t that stupid? I don't have time for that. Maybe if you used your head every once in a while, you wouldn’t be such a pain for us. Stupid. Dumb. Slow. Stop taLKING-

Cold lips whispered in her ear.

“Timothy. Know-it-all. Cold. Sarcastic. Condescending. And a coffee addict.”

Don’t let down your gaze

The cold hand slipped off slowly from the shirt, and then she was back in the hall with the freaking guy that almost gave her a heart attack on the spot.

Something akin to anger invaded her body. Sinking right through her back.

She straightened up and just stomped down the hallway, shaking her head as she muttered angrily under her breath. Her hands curled into fists on her sides. Her stomach growled in agreement for the first time since she stepped out.

“Not supposed to be up. Looking in the fucking mirror for once and then you can talk,” she said between her teeth as she passed right by him and taking two stairs at a time and disappearing by taking the hall to the left.

Anger, hunger, and fear ran through her blood. Anger from somebody else. Hunger that was becoming starvation. And fear, well, she was angry from getting scared like that by a dude with eyebags for his eyebags.

‘Fuck this house. Can’t normal people live under this roof?!’

Meanwhile, Drake just stood there. Eyes wide and mouth forming words, but no sound coming out. He was pretty sure he was having a hallucination from his lack of sleep.

“...since when does she move so fast?”

3. And then, the kitchen, her only salvation. Now turned into a gathering point.

Not only did she not find Alfred in the kitchen, but the little gremlin was having breakfast already at the dinner table.

He was wearing a school uniform, very similar to her own. Or what she thought her uniform used to look like. His schoolbag sat on the chair next to him, all pristine and expensive-looking. His plate was almost empty, just some scrambled eggs and untouched bacon strips that were snatched up by the smiling man sitting in front of him as they talked.

A man who left a sinking feeling on her suddenly quiet stomach.

The man had black hair and sparkling blue eyes, bright with joy and fondness as he listened to Damian complain about something she couldn’t bother to tune in as her ears started to ring. He wore a thick black jacket, a bluish grey shirt, and jeans. 

Before she took another step as quietly as possible (because she had convinced herself that if she moved as quietly and as fast as possible, she wouldn’t have to even interact with another random guy so early in the morning.), a youthful voice that felt like nails on a chalkboard to her called for her attention.

“Hey! You’re awake early!” The cheery tone made goosebumps break out on her skin, making her hiss under her breath.

Turning her head towards the man, she took notice of how he was already standing up and walking towards her. An easy smile on his face.

It irked her, for some reason. That smile.

“Here I thought you were sleeping in until late in the afternoon after what happened yesterday.”

With every step and word that came out of him, the more her shoulders moved up as an upsetting feeling churned inside of her.

Why is he smiling so much? And this early, too? It’s unsettling

Then, he put his hand on her shoulder. It felt so wrong and odd. And when her gaze found his, the only emotions she could find on his stare were pity and something similar to concern. But mainly pity. It made her feel cold and heavy.

“Did you rest? You need to-”

Sorry excuses. Soft avoidance. Pitiful glances. Forgotten recitals. Empty promises. So many empty chairs in recitals. Photos of her alone. Unanswered calls. Unseen messages. I can’t today, I’m too tired. Sorry, gotta go help with a case. Sure, I’ll see if I can go. Sorry, I’m going out with Damian. I promised Tim that I would help him with something. Can’t you ask Bruce? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’T. I CAN’TIMSORRYICANTIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY ARE YOU SORRY-

“Can you not?” she snapped, pulling her shoulder away from his grasp. Almost as if his touch burned her.

He recoiled, startled at the sudden action. Eyes widening in confusion and surprise. He put both of his hands up, trying to look defenseless.

“Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t think-” he tried to talk, but she just brushed him off and moved towards the fridge to look for something to take away the head-shattering migraine that was pounding between her ears.

Except the whispers were back. Again. 

‘Can you also not? Let me at least eat something, Jesus.’

She complained to herself, feeling a bit crazy while doing so. But the coldness settled for a moment. And the headache, too.

‘So maybe I am not going that crazy…’ She thought as she picked up a crystal jug filled with what she assumed was orange juice and some protein bars she found on the fridge door before closing it with her knee.

The man had not moved from his position, still staring at her as if she had grown a second head. His hands were even still up in the air, frozen.

Even the gremlin was staring at her with a calculating glare. But something was assuring her that it was just his face.

She didn’t say a single thing to them, sticking to serving some juice to drink. Finding a cup wasn’t so hard, just taking a clean one from the drying rack as she muttered under her breath. Maybe staying a few more hours holed up in a dead girl’s bedroom wasn’t such a bad idea if it meant she could have avoided meeting the ghost of the hallways and Mister touchy feelings over there.

“Richard Grayson,” The sudden cold lips at her ear made her almost choke on her juice, but she managed to hold it back.

‘What’s up with your fucking timing?!’

The ghost on her shoulder ignored her (because she was 100% sure it was a ghost, fight her on that).

“Liar. Pitiful. Avoidant. Fake. Liar. Liar. LiaR. LiAR. LIAR-”

“How hard did you hit your head to be acting like a savage animal?” the snobbish gremlin said with his nose turned up, glaring at the empty cup in her hand.

Looks like she downed it so fast that she didn’t even notice it. A small hiccup left her throat, making her flush a bit in embarrassment.

“Now, Dami, that’s not nice,” the man, Richard, said as he walked towards her. 

But she moved away from him with a grimace, avoiding his extended hand again. He probably intended to pat her back or something, but she wasn’t feeling like it. So she took a sharp curve to the left and put the cup in the dishwasher to wash it.

Richard looked almost offended at that, staring at her with a hurt look and looking down at his hand. Did he do something wrong? Are his hands dirty or something?

Why is she avoiding him? Why won’t she let him hold her? She used to even preen over a simple pat!

“So,” he clapped his hands awkwardly, trying to disguise a bit the tense situation. “How’s the wound? Heard it wasn’t pretty.”

Such a smooth move, Dick.

Both Damian and her turned to look at him in disbelief.

She scoffed, a sarcastic laugh as she slammed down the now clean cup in the drying rack. Her eyes gave a bit of a maniacal glint that made him click his mouth shut.

That was… new.

“Yeah, having my head cracked open on the pavement is not a pretty sight. Such an outstanding observation!”

Her tone made him wince, and even Damian looked a bit surprised at her biting answer. But he mostly seemed entertained by the drama unfolding in front of him.

Richard sighed deeply at that, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was digging a deeper hole.

“I didn’t mean like that,” he uttered out before gesturing towards her. “You’re just so sensitive today, and I’m-”

“Excuse me, the fuck you mean by ‘I’m being sensitive’?”

Suddenly, Damian’s empty plate looked a lot more interesting to him.

Pure irritation and indignation were oozing from her body, making Richard lift his hands up and close and open his mouth like a gaping fish. He took a few steps forward, slowly.

“Wooh, I meant that you-’

But she was not having it.

“You just waltz back in here, acting all concerned, and tell me how I’m supposed to be acting like it’s something kind of play? Is that it?”

“No! Is just that you are not reacting-”

“Reacting like what? Like I should be sooo glad that you are cutting some of your time to show you care?” Her face was twisted in a snarl. So much indignation was bubbling from inside her chest and making her fists shake by her sides.

His expression was similar to as if he had gotten the air punched out of him. Those words hit a bit too close. 

“Hun, that’s not what I-” his hand went to grab her forearm. But it got slapped away.

Suddenly, he had a pointed finger up in his face and a fuming teenage girl glaring at him from hell and back.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” She spat out. Turning around and picking her protein bars, she stomped towards the entrance of the kitchen and yelled over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

“ Ever Again! ”

The uncomfortable silence reigned over the kitchen for a long time. Neither of the two people there said a thing until the butler of the family made his way into the room, carrying some plastic bags from the grocery store trip he had made to make something more nutritious for the young lady, which would help her get some more energy. But the tense air made him raise an eyebrow, taking notice of the grieving expression on Master Dick’s face and the thoughtful expression on Master Damian’s.

“Everything alright with breakfast, Masters?” he asked while putting away the groceries.

Damian picked up his dishes and began to wash them in the sink, not paying any attention to Grayson’s obvious crisis.

“I think Embarrassment is going through her rebellious stage… or puberty.”

“...I see.”

Dick just started sobbing against the counter.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

And that would summarize the hellish morning she just had.

Nobody had come to bother her, thank God. Alfred even brought her a complete breakfast to her room and didn’t ask any questions about why she lay on the floor while glaring at the ceiling as if it had offended her in the worst way possible. If only the people around were more like him, she wouldn’t have gone all berserk on the touchy guy.

She felt a bit bad over snapping that way, but he wouldn’t stop trying to touch her. And let’s say that the odd vibrating sensation under her skin was not helping with receiving touch.

It hurt. It honestly hurt. It felt like burning branding, and it hurt.

Even her clothes felt like needles against her skin. It was very uncomfortable, and it was driving her insane. The only thing that could soothe it was the coldness from the ghost that followed her everywhere.

Oh, right. The ghost.

She had a few impressions of who it could be, since she had made it pretty obvious with all the clues she had been getting from way back at the police station. And all those memories and feelings and outbursts (okay, the outbursts were all her own, but she certainly gave the push), it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.

The real (Y/N) Wayne was haunting here in the most unconventional way possible.

Unlike the men of the family (except Alfred), the actual spirit wasn’t trying to scare the hell out of her. Which gained a thousand brownie points in her favor. As for why said ghost was still here and helping her out instead of throwing a fit for getting her literal body stolen from her, that was still a mystery.

“Can you only talk to me? Is that not boring to you?” she asked the empty air beside her on the bed, fidgeting mindlessly with the seams of an old lilac blanket. 

After getting quite harshly shoved into the bed and having throwed at the weighted blanket over her, she had gotten the message that the ghost didn’t mind her being in her space.

And she didn’t even know if ghost girl was actually beside her. It was just a random decision, so she didn’t feel she was going as crazy as she was.

Then a round of unanswered questions began to pass the time. There was no way she was gonna venture around the manor and run the chance of encountering another annoying guy related to her.

“I wonder, does your dad just have a hobby of picking up the most entitled guys as his son, or is it pure coincidence?” That got her a tickling sensation on her nose similar to a pinch.

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but she would take it as a yes.

She snorted and sighed deeply, letting her eyes slip close. That weighted blanket was doing wonders to calm her down.

She wondered if Billy was doing all right, wherever he was.

Is he too far away? (Of course, he is; she can’t feel him in her head. She always felt him there. No matter how far apart they were from one another.)

Is he going through the same thing? Adapting to a new body? (Some odd feeling told her he wasn’t going through it exactly like her. But she couldn’t figure out why.)

Is he eating? Is he alone? Does he also have a ghost companion like her? Where is he? God, where is he-

A sudden clattering and crashing sound startled her out of her trance thoughts. Sitting up on the bed and looking around the room for the source of the noise. As she slid to the edge of the bed, the creaking door of the wardrobe opened slowly.

…She gave a dead stare to the empty air.

“If you want me dead, just say so. No need for spooky shit.”

As if on sync, the door opened completely. It was filled to the brim with scarves, coats, dresses, and shirts in the same aesthetic and colors as the room. From deep purple to soft lilac, black, and dirty green. And scattered over the floor, a cardboard box open with what she could identify as cassettes.

The blanket slid off of her, and a small shove on her shoulder had her standing up and walking over to the mess on the floor. Grumbling as she crouched to clean up.

“Y’know, being your eternal maid is not exactly on my plans, so how about we keep your stuff cle-” her ranting stopped once the label on one of the cassettes caught her eye.

‘Diary Entry: Year 6’

She sat down on the floor, noticing how all the other cassettes had different numbers written on their labels as she picked them up. There were a total of ten cassettes, the number one being in such a deplorable state that indicated someone had thrown it around and pulled out the tape on purpose.

A dragging sound behind her made her look away and over her shoulder. 

A cassette player, very well taken care of, stood out by the edge beneath the bed. She looked back at the old box and the destroyed cassette in her hands, her fingers gently running along the sticky recording tape.

Well, time to listen to a ghost’s podcast.

She preferred that over getting out of the room. 

A win is a win.

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Author's Note: I Keep on saying I won't make long chapters, better stop believing me fr. So, a small update about what's gonna happen in the next two-three weeks. Next week, I'll be entering the last weeks of the semester and I'm locking in completely. I'm also going on a weekend trip by the end of this week, so next chapter will be published after that trip and then focus on finals. I'll try my best to publish weekly, could early or late but always expect towards sundays. That would be all for now! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and give it some love! Lots of hugs,

GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs

Bonus Memes:

[vintagehomecollection]

The relatively simple cubic form of this house allowed the owners to put more of their budget into windows. The living area features a wall of windows that captures a panoramic view. A window seat helps modulate the open expanse of space.

The Not So Big House - A Blueprint for the Way We Really Live, 1998

[shadow-of-gehenna]

Introducing the Sobek - Animalistic Terror

//:ERR: SEARCH_DATA<SOBEK>UNDEFINED //:ERR: SEARCH_DATA<BERSERKER>UNDEFINED //:ERR: SEARCH_DATA<BERSERKER_OMEGA> DATA RESTRICTED //:CLEARANCE_LEVEL: SERAPHIM //:PARSING: … … … //:GRANTED: WARNING: Knowledge granted beyond his point should be considered hazardous. Non-authorized persons viewing the data will be considered a data leak and thus dealt with by A.R.C. operatives appropriately.

-

Rampaging across the battlefield comes the Sobek, the most extreme representation of A.R.C.'s design philosophy. The Sobek is an apex on the battlefield, tearing through anything that stands in it's way, ripping enemy combatants limb from limb with it's unshackled rage.

The Sobek's license provides pilots with everything they'd require to turn the battlefield into a slaughter house, barbed Lock-blades and Lashers help pin mechs down, Ripper Jaws and Strider Talons tear apart even the toughest targets, and the Death Roll module will eviscerate whatever or whoever remains.

However, be warned pilots, the Sobek's hunger for battle and blood must be sated, if not, it may turn inward to find what it wants.

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

MASTER POST OF PROSHIP RESOURCES!!! <3<3

this is just for links (bc i just have No Way of formatting this properly), so for more in-depth stuffs and credits, head to the google doc, or the carrd !! :3c

Fiction ≠ Reality

Violent media -

Does Media Violence Predict Societal Violence? It Depends on What You Look at and When

Video Game Violence Use Among “Vulnerable” Populations: The Impact of Violent Games on Delinquency and Bullying Among Children with Clinically Elevated Depression or Attention Deficit Symptoms

Extreme metal music and anger processing

On the Morality of Immoral Fiction: Reading Newgate Novels, 1830–1848

How gamers manage aggression: Situating skills in collaborative computer games

Examining desensitization using facial electromyography:Violent videogames, gender, and affective responding

'Bad' video game behavior increases players' moral sensitivity

Fiction and Morality: Investigating the Associations Between Reading Exposure, Empathy, Morality, and Moral Judgment

Comfortably Numb or Just Yet Another Movie? Media Violence Exposure Does Not Reduce Viewer Empathy for Victims of Real Violence Among Primarily Hispanic Viewers

Fantasy Crime: The Criminalisation of Fantasy Material Under Australia's Child Abuse Material Legislation

Being able to distinguish fiction from reality -

Effects of context on judgments concerning the reality status of novel entities

Children’s Causal Learning from Fiction: Assessing the Proximity Between Real and Fictional Worlds

Reality/Fiction Distinction and Fiction/Fiction Distinction during Sentence Comprehension

Reality = Relevance? Insights from Spontaneous Modulations of the Brain’s Default Network when Telling Apart Reality from Fiction

How does the brain tell the real from imagined?

Meeting George Bush versus Meeting Cinderella: The Neural Response When Telling Apart What is Real from What is Fictional in the Context of Our Reality

loli/shota/kodocon -

If I like lolicon, does it mean I’m a pedophile? A therapist’s view

Virtual Child Pornography, Human Trafficking and Japanese Law: Pop Culture, Harm and Legal Restrains

Lolicon: The Reality of ‘Virtual Child Pornography’ in Japan

Report: cartoon paedophilia harmless

‘The Lolicon Guy:’ Some Observations on Researching Unpopular Topics in Japan

Robot Ghosts And Wired Dreams Japanese Science Fiction From Origins To Anime [pg 227-228]

Australia's "child abuse material' legislation, internet regulation and the juridification of the imaginationjuridification of the imagination [pg 14-15]

Multiple Orientations as Animating Misdelivery: Theoretical Considerations on Sexuality Attracted to Nijigen (Two-Dimensional) Objects

Positive Impact on Mental Health

Art therapy -

The effectiveness of art therapy for anxiety in adults: A systematic review of randomised and non-randomised controlled trials

Efficacy of Art Therapy in Individuals With Personality Disorders Cluster B/C: A Randomized Controlled Trial

Effectiveness of Art Therapy With Adult Clients in 2018 - What Progress Has Been Made?

Benefits of Art Therapy in People Diagnosed With Personality Disorders: A Quantitative Survey

The Effectiveness of Art Therapy in the Treatment of Traumatized Adults: A Systematic Review on Art Therapy and Trauma

The clinical effectiveness and current practice of art therapy for trauma

Writing therapy -

Optimizing the perceived benefits and health outcomes of writing about traumatic life events

Expressive writing and post-traumatic stress disorder: Effects on trauma symptoms, mood states, and cortisol reactivity

Focused expressive writing as self-help for stress and trauma

Putting Stress into Words: The Impact of Writing on Physiological, Absentee, and Self-Reported Emotional Well-Being Measures

The writing cure: How expressive writing promotes health and emotional well-being

Effects of Writing About Traumatic Experiences: The Necessity for Narrative Structuring

Scriptotherapy: The effects of writing about traumatic events

Emotional and physical benefits of expressive writing

Emotional and Cognitive Processing in Sexual Assault Survivors' Narratives

Finding happiness in negative emotions: An experimental test of a novel expressive writing paradigm

An everyday activity as treatment for depression: The benefits of expressive writing for people diagnosed with major depressive disorder

Writing about emotional experiences as a therapeutic process

Effects of expressive writing on sexual dysfunction, depression, and PTSD in women with a history of childhood sexual abuse: Results from a randomized clinical trial

Written Emotional Disclosure: Testing Whether Social Disclosure Matters

Written emotional disclosure: A controlled study of the benefits of expressive writing homework in outpatient psychotherapy

Misc -

Emotional disclosure about traumas and its relation to health: Effects of previous disclosure and trauma severity

Treating complex trauma in adolescents: A phase-based integrative approach for play therapists

Emotional expression and physical health: Revising traumatic memories or fostering self-regulation?

Disclosure of Sexual Victimization: The Effects of Pennebaker's Emotional Disclosure Paradigm on Physical and Psychological Distress

Kink/Porn/Fantasies

Sexual fantasies -

A Critical Microethnographic Examination of Power Exchange, Role Idenity and Agency with Black BDSM Practitioners

Women's Rape Fantasies: An Empirical Evaluation of the Major Explanations

History, culture and practice of puppy play

What Exactly Is an Unusual Sexual Fantasy?

The Psychology of Kink: a Survey Study into the Relationships of Trauma and Attachment Style with BDSM Interests

Punishing Sexual Fantasy

Women's Erotic Rape Fantasies

Sexual Fantasy and Adult Attunement: Differentiating Preying from Playing

What Is So Appealing About Being Spanked, Flogged, Dominated, or Restrained? Answers from Practitioners of Sexual Masochism/Submission

Dark Fantasies, Part 1 - With Dr. Ian Kerner

Why Do Women Have Rape Fantasies

The 7 Most Common Sexual Fantasies and What to Do About Them

Sexual Fantasies

Pornography -

The Effects of Exposure to Virtual Child Pornography on Viewer Cognitions and Attitudes Toward Deviant Sexual Behavior

American Identities and Consumption of Japanese Homoerotica

The differentiation between consumers of hentai pornography and human pornography

Pornography Use and Holistic Sexual Functioning: A Systematic Review of Recent Research

Claiming Public Health Crisis to Regulate Sexual Outlets: A Critique of the State of Utah's Declaration on Pornography

Pornography and Sexual Dysfunction: Is There Any Relationship?

Reading and Living Yaoi: Male-Male Fantasy Narratives as Women's Sexual Subculture in Japan

Women's Consumption of Pornograpy: Pleasure, Contestation, and Empowerment

Pornography and Sexual Violence

The Sunny Side of Smut

Other -

Fantasy Sexual Material Use by People with Attractions to Children

Fictosexuality, Fictoromance, and Fictophilia: A Qualitative Study of Love and Desire for Fictional Characters

Exploring the Ownership of Child-Like Sex Dolls

Are Sex and Pornograpy Addiction Valid Disorders? Adding a Leisure Science Perspecive to the Sexological Critique

Littles: Affects and Aesthetics in Sexual Age-Play

An Exploratory Study of a New Kink Activity: "Pup Play"

Jaws Effect

The Jaws Effect: How movie narratives are used to influence policy responses to shark bites in Western Australia

The Shark Attacks That Were the Inspiration for Jaws

The Great White Hope (written by Peter Benchley, writer of Jaws)

The Jaws Myth [not a study BUT is an interesting read and provides some links to articles and studies]

Slenderman Stabbings

Out Came the Girls: Adolescent Girlhood, the Occult, and the Slender Man Phenomenon

Jury in Slender Man case finds Anissa Weier was mentally ill, will not go to prison

2nd teen in 'Slender Man' stabbing case to remain in institutional care for 40 years

Negative effects of online harassment

How stressful is online victimization? Effects of victim's personality and properties of the incident

Prevalence, Psychological Impact, and Coping of Cyberbully Victims Among College Students

Offline Consequences of Online Victimization

The Relative Importance of Online Victimization in Understanding Depression, Delinquency, and Substance Use

Internet trolling and everyday sadism: Parallel effects on pain perception and moral judgement

The MAD Model of Moral Contagion: The Role of Motivation, Attention, and Design in the Spread of Moralized Content Online

Morally Motivated Networked Harassment as Normative Reinforcement

When Online Harassment is Perceived as Justified

Violence on Reddit Support Forums Unique to r/NoFap

"It Makes Me, A Minor, Uncomfortable" Media and Morality in Anti-Shippers' Policing of Online Fandom

[centaurianthropology]

What LeeBeeBee does for the Story of ‘Murderbot’

So we’ve finally met Blonde Lady in the series (her name is LeeBeeBee), and I think she’s filling a really interesting and important role plot-wise and worldbuilding-wise, and doing so in unexpected ways that are surprising even book-readers.  She’s wholly original to the show, so no one knows what precisely the writers have planned for her.

But I certainly have thoughts and predictions. 

I figured I’d break my thoughts on her up into two sections.  The first section is for all the folks who are show-only, and I’ll only be examining her role in S1E5, without any additional speculation pulling from book knowledge and what I think the writers are doing with her in the longer term.  The second part will speculate on the upcoming episode, and how I think it could play out.  No idea if I’m right about everything (or anything!), but it’s always fun to speculate!

FUNCTION IN S1E5 (SPOILERS FOR E1-5)

Let’s kick it off by talking about LeeBeeBee in isolation in this episode, what her function in this particular episode was, what she does for the plot, the larger world, and what she does for the storytelling format. 

Let’s start with her plot function, the most obvious part of her role in this episode.  She appears at the beginning as the sole survivor of DeltFall, makeup smeared and uniform dirty.  This immediately sets her apart from the PresAux gang.  She’s apparently the indentured cleaner that DeltFall rented for the hab along with the SecUnits, and this cleaner is wearing makeup despite having a physically laborious job in a field unit on a mostly-uninhabited planet. 

This small bit of visual storytelling sets DeltFall up as a very different society to PresAux.  PresAux deliberately only took one (cheap) SecUnit, which is understandable given their objections to using constructs as slave labor.  None of them wear makeup in the field, and they certainly don’t have a cleaner.

But DeltFall not only had multiple constructs, but also an indentured servant to do housekeeping, and there is either an expectation or a cultural norm that she be made up while she do her indentured job.  They feel, from this introduction, very Corporation Rim. 

LeeBeeBee herself acts as a personification of the Corporation Rim on a level we haven’t been able to dig into with the limited screentime of the Company Tech Bro sales reps.  From her first scene on the hopper, she feels like she’s from a completely different world to the empathetic and sweet Preservationers.  She almost immediately objectifies SecUnit in a way that is openly offputting to both the audience and clearly to the Preservation crew, who likely don’t say anything both out of shock and out of some belief that this woman has to have some sort of brain damage to say something like that.

But this level of objectification, I think, lies at the heart of the Corporation Rim.  It’s not that constructs are objects, but their workers are valued.  LeeBeeBee is an indentured servant.  She has no more free will than SecUnit.  She objectifies it because she sees herself as a step above a construct, and in the CR hierarchy, you’re likely encouraged to objectify anyone beneath you.  And that comes around to something equally uncomfortable when she finds out it’s got a hacked governor module and is a rogue.  She views it as a person now, but what does that mean? 

She objectifies herself for it. 

And doesn’t that make the worst sort of sense on a survival level for a person in her position?  She’s fully adapted to doing what she has to do to survive.  She views sex in an incredibly transactional and exploitative way.  When she thinks SecUnit is an object, she has the power and she immediately speculates about using it as a sex toy.  When she shifts into thinking of it as a person, she also knows how dangerous it is, and reverses their power dynamic, offering sex as a transactional way to protect herself. 

It’s awful, deliberately so.  But I think it’s a great and visceral way to get into the Corporation Rim mindset: constructs aren’t special; everyone who isn’t wealthy or powerful is an object.  You don’t get to be a person with fully autonomous choices until you’re one of the elite.  Until then, sex is just another way of trying to get a slight advantage in an endless rat race.

Having LeeBeeBee represent this deeply uncomfortable aspect of an end-stage capitalist hellscape like the CR also does something on a storytelling level.  This addition of an outsider character fully shifts the POV in the show.  Up until her introduction, the PresAux crew felt like the strange outsiders that MB was judging, but by introducing the worst possible representation of the CR, our alignment completely shifts.  We are not only on Preservation’s side, but we are insiders with them.  They now feel normal and lived in, and she feels like the outsider.  And this reflects the shift going on in Murderbot.  Even before it’s willing to acknowledge it, through the framing of LeeBeeBee we subconsciously know it has realigned itself with the PresAux crew. 

So that’s why I think she was an effective addition in this episode.  If you’re interested in some book spoilers and speculation for the next episode, jump below the cut.

FUNCTION IN S1E6 AND BEYOND (SPECULATION, SPOILERS FOR ‘ALL SYSTEMS RED’)

Are they gone?

Groovy.  Let’s get under the hood and talk about all the ways she’s working on multiple levels, not just embodying all the worst parts of the CR as I previously mentioned, but playing it up as a means of camoflage.  Because LeeBeeBee is almost certainly a GrayCris plant, precisely what SecUnit and Mensah were worried about, and the crew absolutely did take her in despite the danger because they are good people.  And they would do the right thing, even if Murderbot objected.

It’s so nice to get to see exactly how DeltFall might have been infiltrated, which we didn’t get to see in the book.  And so many of her lines read differently when you think of her as a plant.  Did DeltFall call PresAux ‘the Amateurs,’ or was that GrayCris?  Did DeltFall actually have an indentured servant, or is that GrayCris?

I think that a lot of what she’s saying is truthful, or is just a slight twist on the truth.  I do think she’s likely indentured.  I do think she views others and herself as objects to be used and exploited and discarded.  She’s suffering under one of the cruelest practices in the Corporation Rim, but she’s still fully bought into the CR propaganda and mindset.  Rather than defecting and embracing freedom the way Gurathin likely did, she’s almost certainly looking at getting years shaved off her indenture by acting as an infiltrator and assassin

That’s so perfectly horrid.  She would rather still be indentured but get in better with her bosses than accept real freedom.  It’s a cowardice I think we can all see in our world, that she would take the safe misery and be willing to hurt others to do it, rather than take a major risk and step outside the system.

She’s also dialing up her inherent objectification of others to a level that makes her deliberately off-putting, so the PresAux crew want to look away from her rather than examining her too closely.  If they just want to sort of ignore her, then they’re not going to dig too far into her actions.  If she runs off to communicate back to GrayCris regarding a rogue SecUnit they’re not going to follow her, and are going to be glad to get a break from her.

Her distraction tactics work particularly well against Murderbot, who she makes wildly uncomfortable to the point it’s very glad to get away from her, and is likely deliberately trying not to think of her.  If you watch who she’s targeting with this barrage of unpleasantness, she does it first as a blanket with the crew to gauge reaction, then targets it at SecUnit once she realizes that it’s not being controlled by the combat override, and that it’s fully rogue.  There’s no easy way for her to control it (as I suspect she was controlling the DeltFall SecUnits), so she had to improvise, because as far as she’s concerned, this independent SecUnit is the #1 threat to her plan to kill the PresAux crew.  She must have been so relieved when it went with Mensah to trigger the beacon, because she knew the beacon was rigged to explode, and she had a good chance of getting rid of both the biggest threat and the team leader, and she didn’t even have to do anything!

Which, to her mind, only leaves the rest of the PresAux team to deal with.  After SecUnit, she almost certainly considers Gurathin the next biggest threat, because she would certainly underestimate the Preservationers, but he’s ex-corporate, so she would respect the threat he posed.  So after Mensah and SecUnit are gone, she zeroes in on Gurathin.

I think she almost certainly has a dossier or some other large amount of personal and professional information about him from his days in the CR.  What did she do when she first talked to him after Mensah and Murderbot were gone?  She offered him a stimulant.  I’m now convinced that his therapy modules were—in addition to being for generalized trauma (why did you learn to be quiet, Gurathin??)—meant to treat a stimulant addiction he struggled with after using them to work whatever insane hours he was required to work when he was in the CR. 

I think this next episode is going to be Gurathin-heavy.  The writers are setting up deliberate contrasts between the die-hard-to-a-horrific-level Corpo LeeBeeBee and Defector-with-Trauma ex-Corpo Gurathin.  I wonder if he won’t try to sort of reach out to her in the next episode (was he indentured too?), convince her to defect too, only to have her turn it all around on him and use his backstory against him.  If he was indentured, did he break contract to run to Preservation?  Is there a bounty on him?  Is there a bounty on his AUGMENTS, body not needed in return?

I sort of have an image of the next episode playing out like a horror film, where we realize that LeeBeeBee is the exact infiltrator that took out DeltFall, that GrayCris SecUnits are incoming, MB and Mensah may already be dead, and the person who was responsible for the DeltFall massacre is inside the hab right now.

Especially if we don’t know what happened to MB and Mensah for the majority of the episode, instead focusing on the rest of the group.  Without the snarky voiceover, the terror of the situation could really get hammered home.  Again, this is fully speculation of how it might play out next episode, but my guess is that the big cliffhanger next episode is going to be LeeBeeBee attacking Gurathin.  Previews have shown him with a bandage on his leg, and holding a cane, which some people have pointed out looks like a blind walking cane.  That makes me wonder if she manages to not only disable him with a shot to the leg, but damage visual augments he might have, rendering him partially blind.

I think we’ve also been getting a lot of background work with Gurathin being terrified of rejection and abandonment throughout this season.  He and MB parallel one another in not wanting to share Mensah, because they both are afraid the other will manage to take her from them (completely ignoring that Mensah has two fucking hands, and more than enough love in her to love her family, and both of these idiots too).  If LeeBeeBee really wants to twist the knife in him, she’s going to tell him that if the others are going to survive, they have to abandon him.

And Pin-Lee, Arada, Bharadwaj, and Ratthi are almost certainly going to refuse.  Much like Mensah refused to abandon MB when it was damaged, they’re going to refuse to leave their friend behind.  Because they can disagree with him, they can think he’s wrong about SecUnit, but they still love him and won’t leave him.

This sets up E7 to be the big turning point between the nadir of act 2 (MB and Mensah may be dead, Gurathin is injured, and the others are in direct danger because they won’t leave him behind), and the start of act 3 (MB and Mensah return and save everyone!  They can all come together, defeat GrayCris and escape alive!). 

And all of this gets facilitated because of the introduction of LeeBeeBee, who acts as a face for GrayCris (and likely a way to give us information about them) and for the whole vicious corporate people-as-objects theme that consumes the Corporation Rim.  It’s so much easier to loath GrayCris when we can see the sorts of people it creates, and she is such a great example of that.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

All these ADHD success stories have me in tears because that could have been me, and sometimes it was me, but I still couldn't make it. Three years of attempting the same two semesters, countless meetings with counselors and support services and professors, med dosage increases, mental breakdowns, love and support from a classmate who unofficially adopted me (who I haven't spoken to since I dropped out)... Nothing to show for it but burnout and trauma.

Can it ever get better from here? I feel hopeless.

I'm so sorry. I'm not sure people realise just how fractured your self-esteem becomes when you fail out of an academic course; it properly haunts you, and for a long time afterwards.

I failed my first degree thanks to my own undiagnosed ADHD. I have a very typical story among our people - female, high-achieving in high school, fell apart in university. It was my second year where everything suddenly went wrong. I did not turn in a single assignment on time. I physically, mechanically, could not get myself to write them until the night before the final two-weeks-late deadline, when I'd have to pull an all-nighter and hate life and myself and eventually hand it in in the morning and then sleep for the rest of the day. My attendance was utterly appalling, particularly for a 9am lecture; trying to get up at 8 was a task roughly equivalent to trying to walk on water. I had to resit the exams I'd failed every summer. A particular low point was missing an exam because I didn't realise I even had it; I'd attended so few lectures that I hadn't heard the lecturer say it existed. I remember lying in bed at night and crying, full on sobbing, because I knew something was wrong with me but I didn't know what had happened. I'd always been so good at this, always had such good grades; it was part of my identity, both for myself and how others saw me.

And like. What else can you blame that on? What other explanation is there, other than 'laziness'?

I did better in my third year; I was determined to attend, and get assignments done. I was better; though still a long way from perfect. But so much damage had been done by then. I had better marks, but there was one single module whose assignment I passed but whose exam I failed; I just needed to resit the exam.

And I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. There was too much shame, too much guilt. I honestly couldn't fathom what the point of even trying was. I was so burnt out and broken by then. And then I had to pick up the pieces afterwards and return to life, surrounded by friends who had made it, with nothing of my own to show.

It was a few years later that I decided to go back to uni and try again. By then, I was doing it for a different reason - I wanted to prove to myself and the world that I could do it, I think. I was a bit older and a bit wiser by then; enough that I chose to be very honest with myself at every step, and could start putting systems in place to succeed. This time, it was a small class, so the lecturers all knew me by name rather than letting me fade into the background; I studied part-time to avoid overwhelm; I altered my own deadlines to be a week early, and I forced myself to write to them.

I think a crucial part was also changing how I viewed the degree, and my attitude to higher ed. Before, I did uni because "That's what you do after school". I saw it as a bigger high school with different teachers, like I HAD to be there and was doing assignments and attending because I HAD to, not because I fundamentally wanted to do the course for its own sake. The second time, I did it properly - I wanted a degree. I wanted a degree in that specific topic. I wanted to improve academically. I read the feedback this time, and applied it to each following assignment.

And, I got into the habit of going into the university computer room every day for a few hours so I could work on my assignments. Other course mates started joining me; one in particular, Chris, who later also got diagnosed with ADHD. I now know we were body doubling, but at the time, we both just saw it as getting into a good habit and working on assignments in a nicer environment.

I finished that degree with a first. Since then, I did a PG Cert with Oxford University, and a post-grad PCET, both of which required the same study-based skillset. Oxford in particular was hard, because the nature of the course was a distance learning one, and that is Very Bad for my ADHD; my brain requires routine and structure and accountability to work. That one gave me mild burnout, actually. But, my point is this:

It absolutely can get better. What that looks like is going to be different for everyone, because you need to be very honest with yourself about what works for you and what doesn't, and then choose a course accordingly; there are also specific types of support that you may need, which may or may not be available.

But you really, really can do it if you can get the right set-up and accommodations.

However, I would be wrong not to add this:

We connect university with intelligence, culturally, and we shouldn't. University is about depth of learning on a particular subject, done within and according to a particular system. Intelligence helps, but other skills are also needed to be able to complete a university degree; and that's not for everyone. You could be more than intelligent enough for it, and it still may be the wrong fit for you. That doesn't mean you're stupid or broken or useless - it just means this isn't the system for you. And there's no shame whatsoever in that.

That may or may not be true of you! We don't know each other, you could be in either bracket. But either way: you are not stupid, or useless, or broken. The system is simply not set up for your personal brain chemistry, any more than a tree-climbing test is set up for a fish. Hopefully any of this ramble is helpful!