#I think the most replayed Redacted moment of all time for me was that line

[sincerelywhistler]

“who do you belong to?”

If I told you that Regulus’s design was inspired by shaggy old English sheepdogs would you believe me—

[dimonds456]

Totally random question, but I need to ask this to people and you seem very smart when it comes to these things and I want to ask: do you think people should consume media critically? Like, be aware of all its flaws?

Oh yeah, absolutely. I think you should definitely be aware of a story's flaws- both plotwise and thematically- so you can better enjoy the story and engage with it, but that's not to say that media should be only consumed critically. It's entertainment, and if it's bad, then there is still value in it from a purely escapist perspective. But, you should be aware of flaws to learn from and understand in order to really engage with it.

Let me explain. Spoilers for Doki Doki Literature Club and Bendy and the Ink Machine / Dark Revival. Also mentioned is HTTYD: RTTE, Twilight, HP, and Little Nightmares.

I believe that your first watch / playthrough / read of a story should 100% be to enjoy the story and characters, engaging with the worldbuilding and just letting it take you for a ride. Now, some stories will have foreshadowing you pick up on and can figure out, but some stories will be pretty unpredictable going into them, but either way, you're letting a story tell itself.

For example, Doki Doki Literature Club (2017) is a dating sim horror game. For the first hour or so, you might forget the "disturbing imagery" warning at the front of the game, but the further you go on Sayori's path, the more you realize she's been struggling. Depression hits her hard, and she's barely holding on. As the Player, most felt bad for her and wanted to help her in some way, but it was already too late.

By the time you find out what happened, Sayori is dead. For both spoiler purposes and to make sure people who don't know this game and don't want to know what happened to her, I'm not going to say how she dies.

But, the game resets, this time without her in it. She's the heart of the group, and without her, things go to shit, even if the other Club members don't realize something is missing. There's an argument in both timelines, an argument Sayori is able to resolve peacefully in her timeline, but one that tears a deep gash in Yuri and Natsuki's relationship without her. This moment really hits if you engage with the story.

At the end of the game, which I won't say here (again, go play it and engage with the story yourself), you're left to make a pretty massive decision, which you could only figure out that that's what you need to do because of the game's meta look at itself by this point.

When I was first watching a playthrough of the game (I think through Jacksepticeye) I remember it helped me a lot since I was struggling just like Sayori was, and it turned me off from doing harm to myself for a long time. And understanding why goes into thinking about it critically.

Sayori's depression was almost word for word what mine was back when I first heard her talk about it. So, when she [REDACTED], it genuinely scared me. That could be me, I thought. It made me sure that I didn't want to go down the same path, and even helped me talk about my depression a bit more than I had been up to that point.

Does the game have flaws? Hell yes. A lot of the conversations go on a little long (but it's a dating sim, you signed up for dialogue lol), sometimes the scary bits can feel a bit out of place, there's a couple lines of dialogue that feel a bit off, ect.

However, I love DDLC despite its flaws simply because I love the story, it helped me, and it's just a good story with a powerful message. Critically, there are a few flaws, which I take in stride when I replay the game, but it doesn't hurt my experience.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, we have Bendy and the Ink Machine (2017). I remember being absolutely obsessed with Bendy, but looking back, the game is (subjectively) Not Good. So, why did I love it so much?

Well, for starters, the game released in 5 chapters from early 2017 to late 2018. This gave the fandom huge lengths of time to theorize, to fall in love with the characters, and engage with each other. By the time Chapter 2 came out, people already had an idea of what the story was going to be in its entirety because they filled in the blanks. And, we were half right, half wrong throughout the game, because the creators started centering plot points around things the fandom came up with rather than what they themselves came up with.

The primary example is Alice Angel from Chapter 3. In Chapter 2, all there was was one voice log explaining that there was a voice actress who liked playing the role, and a singular poster in which she starred in a short called "Sent from Above." That was it. But, the fans had her design, and without any knowledge of the character herself, suddenly there was fanart, shipping, character dynamics, and emotional attachment. So, the devs behind the game went and made her the focus of Chapter 3 simply because they thought that that's what the fandom wanted.

That was why I loved the game so much. It wasn't the game I loved, but the fandom and the fan stories created about the game.

However, I still have a soft spot for BATIM. I was hyperfixated on it for two whole years, and even had a fan story of my own called Demons Inside, which is still one of my better stories even if there are a lot of major flaws. And, despite how all over the place the game turned out, I still love it.

That's why, back in February, I got the idea to make a BATIM Rewritten video. I'd do something similar to what The Closer Look did for the Star Wars sequels and make a video explaining what went wrong, only to propose my own story and how they should have handled it.

However, that never came to pass. Bendy and the Dark Revival (2022) dropped not too long ago, and because the devs decided to release all the chapters at once instead of separately, there were no fandom points to go off of for this game. They had complete creative control, and used it well. When not doing what the fandom wants, these guys can create a genuinely good game. BATDR did a lot of what I wanted to do with the original, so making that Rewritten video is kinda a moot point now.

Back to BATIM, though, that game has a lot of flaws. Pacing, character inconsistency, introductions, set up, payoff, the whole thing. The voice acting, music, artwork, designs and stuff were all on-point, it was just mostly the story that was a mess lol. But despite that, BATIM and its fandom are like comfort food to me. I still go back and listen to BATIM fan songs constantly, and rewatching old comic dubs is like stepping into an old house. I still like BATIM, even if I constantly joke with my friends about how bad it is.

No piece of media will be perfect. You're allowed to like the Star Wars prequels and sequels, even if I cannot join you on that opinion (I think, it's been a literal decade since I've seen the prequels). You're allowed to like Twilight so long as you recognize that every single relationship in that series is toxic and you should not idolize any of them.

H*rry P*tter is nostalgic to a lot of us and I know I still love it, even if I cannot enjoy it because of what the creator is doing. HP is an exception because J. K. R*wling is an awful human being.

Even my favorite video game ever, Undertale, has its flaws. Quite a few of them, actually. People have complained that the battles get repetitive and it's annoying that they appear suddenly, and you can't choose whether you want to engage with them or not. People have complained about some of the characters, that there's individual character arcs that are bad (most commonly criticized is Alphys' and I strongly disagree, and I will defend her place in this story with my entire online existence), and stuff along those lines.

But, when Undertale made me cry that hard, when it said so many things I needed to hear, when it made me fall in love with so many of its characters, when it made me completely change my ENTIRE worldview... what else was I supposed to do but enjoy it?

Not to say that to enjoy a story, it must impact you, no. You can enjoy any piece of media without it impacting you. But, you should be able to connect with the characters, world, and story no matter what, despite its flaws. The mark of an enjoyable story is one that does that with you specifically. Now whether that's because you're crying or laughing at it is still up to you, but entertainment value ≠ objectively good.

You should be aware of flaws. You should be able to say "yeah they should have introduced Viggo Grimborne much earlier in Race to the Edge than they did, since he would be a much more looming threat" while still being able to enjoy Dragons: Race to the Edge. Recognizing flaws in a piece of media is pretty key to really connecting with it from an analytic standpoint, which I recommend doing with any story to really see how it works as a story.

But you don't have to.

Entertainment is escapism. You should watch or engage with it to let go of reality for a little while. I recommend being aware of flaws so you can learn from them and talk about the story to other people, but you don't have to do that. I've played Little Nightmares... never, but I've watched a bunch of playthroughs and it's a great game. I'm sure it has flaws, but I can't think of any off the top of my head. It's a great game with a lot of atmosphere, and it's told pretty much exclusively through worldbuilding, which is awesome, but I don't know everything there is to know and that's okay.

Enjoy a story however you want to. Everything has flaws, and although they should be taken into account, that doesn't define the experience.

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[welcometothevoiddarling]

evermore

okay when evermore came out I was re-reading harry potter (cause that’s my coping mechanism don’t @ me) but yeah I realised those lyrics fit so well with harry’s perspective at the end of Order of the Phoenix after sirius has died (rest in peace my beautiful boy...)

But yeah here is my lyric anaylsis:

I’ve been down since July - End of Ootp takes place at the end of the school term in june/july time

Motion capture put me in a bad light - Not as strong but ‘motion capture’ like photographers (and the press) in the daily prophet had been coming for Harry all year

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong - Of course in the aftermath of everything we know self hating harry was overthinking every action he took that lead up to sirius’ death and 100% beat himself up about it much much more than is shown in the books 

Writing letters addressed to the fire - Sirius was his main correspondent, with him gone, he has no one left to write to. All his letters may as well be thrown in the fire, there’s no one left to send them to. And also the association with talking to sirius in the fire. Now sirius is no longer there he can only toss the words he would tell him into the fire, but there’s no one there anymore.

And I was catching my breath, staring out an open window catching my death - (Okay I know the opening of the song sets it out as November but work with me here) beginning of HBP, Harry is sitting next to his fogging window waiting for dumbledore to arrive (and let’s pretend it was cold) and he describes how that summer he’s been living life on a loop (a consequence of his grief and his fear of the unstable situation) and he’s clung to this promise of Dumbledore’s visit leaning out of the window, unsure if it’s too good to be true in his new bleak existance 

And i couldn’t be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for evermore - Do I even have to explain this one?

Hey december, guess I’m feeling unmoored, can’t remember what I used to fight for -  Well if we’re going by the time referenced then around christmas time Hermione and Ron fall out and also Harry believes the stuff about Malfoy and Snape and no one else does (Remus actually puts down his theory on Christmas day quite forcefully) and whilst yes obviously Harry does know what he’s fighting for (since he refuses Scrimgeour when the latter asks for his help) it is bleak time when no one will listen to his theories or give him the time of day. And we all know Sirius would have.

I rewind the tape but all it does it pause on the very moment all was lost - So I don’t know if you can tell but Sirius is my favourite character, and clearly I was a lonely child cause I feel very very real grief when a fictional character dies. And I have re read Ootp many many times and every single time I will see every decision made that lead to his death and scream (internally ofc i’m not an animal). And I’ve dedicated hours to replaying things to see how they could’ve turned out differently. I’m sure Harry did too.

Sending signals to be double crossed -  Every time I always see that chapter when Kreacher goes to the Malfoys and comes back happier than normal and harry’s like ‘this is sus but whatever’ and you’re just so wrong if harry doesn’t think about that and hate how he got doubled by kreacher and voldemort.

Can’t not think of all the cost, and all the things that will be lost, oh can we just get a pause? To be certain we’ll be tall again - I don’t need to tell you all the things that Harry lost the moment Sirius was taken from him. A father figure. A connection to his past. A friend. A comfort. Moments and memories. It’s like the most traumatic grief possible on it’s own, but then on top of it he gets told he’s like mankind’s canon saviour and he doesn’t get a real moment to process it all really cause he comes back to school and starts Voldemort defeating training and I don’t Harry has ever really felt tall in his whole life. This poor kid.

Whether weather be the frost or the violence of the dog days -So there’s that scene I always associate this HBP with Katie being cursed by the necklace in the snow and the obvs the scene at the end with the freezing lake etc like the whole story feels frosty to me. Not just weather but relationships, it’s suddenly hard to know who to trust, (and the Romione fight) and obvs the rise of voldemort promises a return to the style of life from the first war (i.e. the violence of the dog days). Also dog. Padfoot.

I’m on waves, out being tossed, is there a line that I could just go cross - I’ve sort of said this already but Harry has so many things in his head with defeating Voldemort, his friends fighting, processing grief, falling in love (yes i ship hinny fight me), the world going to shit, you tell me this boy didn’t once think he’d love to just leave it all and go see his godfather again

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you in the cracks of light I dreamed of you it was real enough to get me through, but I swear you were there - First off this is like gods version of a bridge, like Justin Vernon really outdid himself. Secondly Sirius’ death was a symbol of the start of the meaningful things in his life that start to be taken away. And he will fight in their name. And that’s how a 17 year old boy started a revolution. And won it. Cause he held onto the things that had once given him happiness in a life that was so bleak, and fought to see them again. The boy ESCAPED POSSESSION BY VOLDEMORT AT THE END OF OOTP BECAUSE THE THOUGHT OF DYING TO SEE THE THINGS HE LOVED WAS SO STRONG. THE BOY WALKED TO BE KILLED CAUSE HE’D GET TO SEE THOSE tAKEN FROM HIM AGAIN. ONce again I say, this. poor. boy. 

And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step, and I couldn’t be sure I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be for evermore. - Okay not canon but image after the final battle of Hogwarts maybe that day, maybe months later, Harry comes back to Hogwarts and goes to the shrieking shack, to the place where he first met this man who would change his life and though he’s not here anymore, he knows that he’s out there, proud of him. And now the fighting is over (no harry does not become a cop wizard I refuse [redacted’s] suggestion) he can begin to greive and come to terms with everyone he’s lost. And he can realise, this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

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Feel free to add more/ debate with me I love any lyric analysis and I wrote this out instead of the emails I need to send so really I’m so ready to chat about this. Taylor Swift and Harry potter, literally my two favourite things in the world :) 

[daddybugattibieber]

chapter 16

I started the music from the beginning and concentrated on the lyrics in front of me. Today was a long day in the studio. I redid some vocals on other songs and was rearranging different verses and beats. I was a perfectionist. I had a long talk a couple of days ago with Justin and we were kind of back to normal; we are in a different place almost every day.

I didn’t want to tell him how I felt cos I was afraid of him not loving me back, my insecurities couldn’t be more right. He said he’d try though.

“And I hate….to say I love you

When it’s so …..hard for me

And I hate…….. to say I want you

When you make it so clear …. you don’t want me”

I didn’t really wanna talk about it because I got choked up every single time I thought about that night. I didn’t want him to settle with me but he was obviously doing that.

“I’d never ask you cause deep down, I’m certain I know what you’d say

You’d say I’m sorry believe me, I love you but not in that way”

I don’t want him to resent me.

“And I hate……. to say I need you

I’m so reliant

I’m so dependent

I’m such a fool”

I can’t walk away because I love him so much. My happiness is conditioned by him. I would have to leave and shut him completely out of my life in order for me to give up, to walk away. I know my life would suck without my best friend in it.

“When you're…. not there

I find myself singing the blues

Can’t bear

Can’t face the truth”

I know he doesn’t feel the same about me and I try to avoid it.

“You will never know that feeling

You will never see through these eyes”

I’m not stupid, Selena still loves him; he has no obligations to me, what’s stopping him from going back to her.

“I’d never ask you

‘Cause deep down I’m certain I know what you’d say

You’d say I’m sorry believe me, I love you but not in that way

You’d say I’m sorry believe me, I love you but not in that way”

I knew what this was from the jump and I continued it, I enabled myself and him. I begged him to love me but the truth is I can’t force him to feel that way. It’s not meant to be. I can’t constantly give him 100% when he is only giving me 20%. I know he loves me but he is not in love with me. I should just give up cos I’m done feeling like I can’t fucking breathe, I’m done feeling like I am incapable of loving. I deserve it. I want it.

One of the producers buzzed in the room. “You good Sasha”, he couldn’t really see me crying cos of my sunglasses sat over my face.

“We’re keeping the vocals. Let’s wrap it up”

I wiped my tears from under the sunglasses, and made my way out of the sound booth.

I saved whatever edits I had and gathered everything together. I drank a bottle of water it felt so good to wash down my cotton mouth. The team slowly started to trickle out as I sat replaying all the vocals and organizing them on to my lap top once I finished, I called my driver to come get me from the studio.

I climbed in the car, I settled in the back of the limo to hear faint music as I went through night traffic.

My phone rang out. Speaking of the devil, Justin. I answered.

“Hey”

“Sash, are you okay.” He instantly sensed my morose attitude.

“Yeah I’m fine” I sighed.

“you sure”

“yes, you called”

“C’mon talk to me”

“I’m just tired, it’s been a long day” I lightly said.

“You know you don’t have to hide from me. I get it”

“But you don’t” I quickly said.

“I don’t but try to make me understand, you’re also my best friend you know”

“I know”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore” he said over the phone.

I felt myself let out a whimper. The tears started to fall again. I put my glasses on top of my head and held my face in my hands as I cried these heavy tears I’ve been holding all day.

“I’m sorry” I apologized for crying over the phone. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty. I hiccupped between air and kept on sniffling. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Justin was comforting me and calmly telling me to breathe.

I caught my breath. “I’m dealing with it on my own”

“But you don’t have to. Come to my place, I haven’t seen you this week"

I should just let him go. Move on already. I’ll hold him back. He will eventually resent me if I ask him to try to love me; I don’t want to make him unhappy. I don’t want to leave him though.

He was my best friend but lately the lines of friendship were blurred. Did we ruin the that special thing that made us, us?

“Stop stressing yourself out for no reason. I told you I’m gonna try, you are not forcing me, I want to be with you. Please come see me”

“Alright, I’ll come” I gave in.

“See you soon baby”

“Bye” I mumbled.

I gave the driver the new directions and within 10 minutes I was at Justin’s crib.

I used my key and let myself in.

“Justin, I’m here” I shouted setting my stuff on the kitchen counter.

I turned around to see Justin smirking at me.

Before I could say anything, Justin captured my lips with his. The roughness of his tongue swept against mine as he moaned into my mouth.

He pulled away from me as he trailed his lips down my neck.

“I missed you” he panted in between kisses. I brought his face back to mine so he could attack my lips some more.

“You could have called someone else” I said jokingly.

He pulled away from me and lifted my shirt off and tossed it on to the floor.

“Please your the most jealous person I know” Justin mimicked me. I shoved him a little. I rolled my eyes.

“Sasha, you have a huge attitude problem” Justin unhooked my bra and flung it somewhere.

“If this is gonna work we need communication” he suggested.

“Is this your way of communicating”? I asked. We were supposed talk about our feelings rather than deflect it with sex which we were so great at.

He cupped my tender breasts, and the puckered his lips around one of my nipples sucking the it into his mouth, nicking me with his teeth. 

His mouth still attached to my breast as he unbuttoned my shorts while he yanked it down.

“Something like that” he mumbled into my chest.

“You’re about to get your ass beat” I looked at him. Justin laughed. “You think I’m joking but I’m not playin with you” I felt his vibrations on my chest, warm and content, it made me fall in love with him more, god I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I get lost in his eyes. I cracked a smile and decided to play along with his goofy ass nature.

“See this communication thing works and just to let you know, I’m the only one doing the ass beating around here, so tell me some things you want out of this” Justin smiled at me.

“I don’t want an open relationship, I’m also not here to control you; you can do whatever you want  but I also have the room to be jealous and tell you that I am. I’m not okay with you entertaining girls in the slightest, I don’t want you to cheat, will I leave probably not, but don’t do me dirty. No offense but I was really the only girl besides redacted so it shouldn’t be hard to refrain from yo lil friends” I bit his chin.

“Damn we really doing it like that” he held my face back with his free hand so he could look me in the eye. He squished my cheeks squishing my lips and pressed a wet kiss onto it. I pulled back. 

“Yeah we are, I’m not playing your little games Justin. I’m not kidding. I get that your transitioning from your ex even though y’all broke up about two years ago. If you entertain that girl’s fucking shit, I swear to fucking god” I raised an eyebrow.

“You really put my shit on blast” he lifted me on the kitchen counter.

“I’m communicating, Justin” I smirked and opened my legs.

“Alright, can I get back to you on my decision” he distractedly said as he swirled a finger in my wetness and thrusted his thick finger inside of me, the familiar pressing on my walls made my legs fall open wider.

I lowered his head in between my thighs.

“Communication” he said before he gave a long lick against my clit.

I ignored his attempts to tease me, then he halted his actions.

“C’mon talk to me Sasha, communication is key” I looked at him trying not to get impatient.

“You talk and I keep… talking” Justin explained.

“What do you want to talk about” I strained. Justin held up his finger to indicate he needed a moment while he continued to suck on my clit. This nigga was so fucking conniving. I moaned.

“Sorry it’s rude to talk while you eat” He explained.

This made me angrier. He only laughed at my facial expression with his shit eating grin.

“Let me get this straight, we are together but with no labels” Justin asked as he went back down and began his ministrations.

“Yeah, that’s what you want right” I looked at him honestly, with all joking aside.

He nodded.

“We can always talk ab-bbout it. That’sss the thing about a relationshipppp, the rules aren’t exactly fff-ffinal, we do what’s besssst for us, this is not set in stone, I don’t want you to feel like you are trapped” I let my head fall back as his suction became harder.

“I don’t feel trapped Sasha, you know how clingy I can be baby” he smiled against my lower lips before padding his rough tongue in a swirling motion, I unintentionally slipped my hands in his hair. He added another finger and began curling his fingers in a come here motion.

“Good, I’m glad….you…feel that way.”

“Did you miss me?” Justin mumbled in between my thighs, he licked and opened mouth kisses while I began to shake.

“No” being petty was something I was good at.

“You look really good” I felt him smirk, as he sucked on my clit.

“I know” I hummed. 

“Remember you’re not the one in control.” He pulled his face from under me.

I slithered my hand so I could get myself to climax, no job is better done than by a woman anyways. Before I reached my apex, Justin swatted my hand away.

“Sasha stop playing around with me” he growled. I laughed until he slid into me and instantly my pussy clenched around his girth.

“Fuck you’re so tight for me baby” he groaned. I met his thrusts half way, I was so starved for him. I loved the way his hands felt on my body, his touch alone sent tremors of pleasure surging throughout me.

His thrusts halted as someone pounded on the door.

“Fuck, just keep on going ignore it” I begged. Justin’s thrusts began pick up from where he began until we heard the familiar voices of our friends.

“Tell them to leave” I moaned in his ear. “make me cum before you open that door”

“I can’t fucking concentrate” He groaned in annoyance.

“Justin get your ADHD ass together and fuck me”

“I think I’m gonna get the door” Justin winked at me.

“Fuck you” I yelled at him as he zipped his pants.

“Wasn’t I just doing that” He laughed.

“Barely” I yelled at him and threw whatever article of clothing was closest to me.

He left the kitchen. Where that idiot put my clothes? I threw on his wrinkled shirt instead, I quickly pulled on my panties.

In midst of a convo, our friends all nonchalantly kissed me hello like they weren’t interrupting my impending orgasm..

“What took you guys so long” Khalil asked while he closed the door.

“We were just talking…” Justin winked.

They went straight to living room with all their stuff.

I went back into the kitchen to gather the rest of my clothes.

“What are they doing here” Justin looked at me confused.

“I dunno, you deal with it, not my problem” I shrugged.

“Bizzle where you at?” Za yelled from across the room.

“In the kitchen” Justin yelled.

Next thing I know the three of them were in the kitchen with us.

“Y'all forget about us like that” Za jokingly acted like he was heartbroken.

“We have our movie night” Khalil quipped.

Justin and I shared a look and really didn’t remember how we ended hosting this movie night.  

“Woooooooow” Hailey said like a nigga who just got caught cheating. I snapped my head so quickly, this girl is too much.

“You be hanging around them too much girl” I shook my head and got a bottle of water.

“That still doesn’t excuse the fact y’all forgot about us” Hailey said in more or less of her regular voice.

“Maybe we should all fuck each other” Khalil snickered.

“What in the hell is wrong with you. You’re so fucking nasty” I side eyed him.

“I was just saying we would have to fuck each other to be around y’all since that is all you do” Khalil chided.

“That’s not all we do” Justin and I said in unison. I bit my lip. There might be some truth to that but I was deprived.

“I choke her sometimes, well most of the time” Justin poked back. I slapped him against his head.

Justin rubbed the back of his head easing the faux pain he didn’t even experience.

“And I’m the nasty one, that’s some white boy shit ” Khalil sized me up and down in my own house.

“I know your ass be choking girls too, don’t front” Justin defended his actions. I swear he never wanted to admit he was white.

“What movie are we watching, honey” I fake smiled at Khalil.

“I wanted to watch White Chicks”

“You do fuck enough of them” I said under my breath.

“Roasted” Za laughed along with Justin and Hailey. We moved into the living room.  Za started on the bags of popcorn.

“Don’t even start with me, Sasha”

“Justin is the exception” I laughed.

Justin pursed his lips at me like he wasn’t believing a word I said.

Justin sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. I leaned into Justin as he put his arm around me.

“I’m the exception huh?” Justin questioned as he licked the shell of my ear.

I pulled his face into mine as I kissed his lips to reassurance. I pulled away.

“I need some more” Justin quickly mumbled against my lips. Justin finally pulled back.

“I’m the exception” he repeated.

“I like men of color but you have full lips, you’re not that ignorant, and you also have a fade. Majority of your friends are black… I wouldn’t love you the way I do if you didn’t love black people the way you do”

“I do love black women” Justin smiled.

“Black woman, meaning only this black woman” I corrected him with a peck on on the corner of his mouth.

“Why are you not wearing any pants” Hailey interrupted us.

“We were fucking before you guys came and interrupted us” 

“Nasty” Khalil said in disgust as he turned on the X-box.

“That’s my baby” Justin laughed proudly.

“Is that why you’re so cranky” Hailey hugged me to her as if I needed comfort. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe if you gave us a key, we wouldn’t interrupt you from fucking all the time” Khalil suggested.

“I see your ugly face everyday” Justin disagreed.

“How come Sasha get’s a key then?” 

“Cos I’m fucking her, that’s why, any person who can suck my dick the way she can, can get a key” he laughed as I blushed and shoved his chests.

“Yeah that’s why I have a key” I sarcastically stated, I rolled my eyes.

I got a key for almost every house, apartment, and car this man had. It was cos we have been all we had for a minute. Za and Khalil used to live with him before I came in the picture, but all of them grew up and got their own places.

I remember when he gave me a key to his house, it was a big step, he didn’t even give it the girl he was smashing at the time. I was always with him, sometimes when he was on tour I would sleep in his bed, inhaling his scent because I missed him so much. 

I always had a key to everything. Well not everything, he still hasn’t let me inside his heart.

I was pulled out of my over analytic moment when Za’s idiotic self tried to carry five big bowls on top of one another. “I have popcorn” he sang.

“Did you bring the hot sauce” I asked.

“I gotchu girl” he handed everyone a bowl and then searched inside his pocket for my bottle of tabasco and handed it to me.

Za settled down on the couch in between Hailz and Khalil.

Khalil kissed him on the cheek adoringly, “Love you bro”.

“You’ll love me more when you realize I also copped”

“Forreal, aight that’s why you my nigga. Popcorn and weed” Khalil dapped him up.

“How much you got on you” Justin wondered.

“A half baby” Za winked. As he pulled out a freezer bag from his backpack.

“So you were just conveniently driving with 14 grams in the car” Hailey’s whiteness came out.

“I mean you don’t have to smoke it, if you don’t wanna” Za teased.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful, stop being so reckless” Hailey emptied out a plastic bag of black and milds.

“Says the one who prolly has coke in her purse” Khalil snorted.

I pursed my lips like the black guy in the gif. TEA! 

Everyone laughed at her reddened face. 

“I’m model, it’s for the culture” Hailey shrugged.

I eyed all the black people in the room like when some white people shit go down. 

“Don’t say that, don’t say that for the clout, what culture you got” Khalil said.

“Ooooooo” Za chimed in. He finished rolling his blunt as he licked the sides to mold it together. 

“Y'all remember when Justin got kicked out of the club for rolling the worst blunt" I couldn’t help but laugh as Za retold the story. 

“You weren’t even there, why are you laughing so hard” Justin side eyed me even though I taught him how to do that.

I laughed harder at his expense because he became more heated.

“You remember when he changed his race to african american” I said in hysterics. 

“You can say black, babe, it’s not like it’ll offend us, not every black person is african american” I wipe the tears from my eyes.

Everyone was laughing so hard, I could’t sit up straight. 

I saw Justin crack a smile at me.

“I thought I was woke” Justin said in defense as he held up two flat blunt he rolled himself.

“Barely” I laughed in his face.

“I said black lives matter though” He pouted.

“I know baby, you are trying and that’s what counts. You are definitely not as racist” I pecked his lips.

Justin shook his head in defeat.

Justin placed the blunt in my mouth and one in his. He moved his thumb against the lighter and lit the end of my blunt first as I sucked in to start the burning of the tree. After I puffed my fist air of smoke, Justin lit his. 

Soon the living room was under a fog and our laughter only increased. While the movie played, Za and I made jokes through out scenes.

Justin ended up throwing popcorn at me, I threw some back. I was trying so hard not to laugh.

“Stop playing” I said so he could only hear me. 

Justin threw a hand full of popcorn in my direction some of it hitting Hailey in the face.

“What the fuck?” Hailey whispered.

Justin hid his face in my stomach, as Hailey looked at us with shake of a head.

She went back to watching the movie. Justin took another hand full, this time the popcorn reached Za and Khalil as well.

“Yo who is throwing popcorn” Khalil looked over at the two of us why we giggled uncontrollably. 

I felt popcorn rain on top of me and Justin, I looked up to Za behind the couch smirking like he was up to no good.

“That’s it” Justin bounced from the couch and began to chase Za.

I got up and shook off the popcorn on me. I heard the sound of running feet re-enter the living this time both these two idiots had nerf guns, Justin pointed his gun at me. Khalil was no where to be seen. They staged a coup on me and Hailey. They always pulled shit like this.

Hailey and I shared a knowing look. This was revenge from when me and Hailz won the last game, they surprised attacked us.

I licked my teeth.

“Chill, babe, this is so unfair please don’t shoot, I’m unarmed, you remember black lives matter Justin, you are so woke baby, I love you” I begged Justin not to the pull the trigger, before Justin could answer I ran to get a hold of some nerf guns, Justin’s gun went off,  the nerf bullet flew right by my ear, I turned the corner and got situated with a nerf gun and pack of bullets, I heard someone come in, I jumped aiming at the person but it was only Hailey.

“It’s just you” I sighed in relief. She had a gun in her hand.

This was our hiding space last time the guys still haven’t found where we hid our guns and amo.

“What’s the plan” she asked.

I tossed her a pink walkie talkie.

“This is our mode of communication, we are going on a stake, make sure you are far away from them and have it turned off so they don’t hear you if I come through”

“I’m going to check upstairs to see if it’s clear, you hide downstairs and tell me where I can spot them and snipe from the balcony” I commanded.

We took this game really seriously.

We left the room, I stealthily made my way upstairs, I cleared out the rooms and made my way to the balcony, I clicked the radio “upstairs is clear, heading to balcony, copy”

“I have located the boys, they are on the patio” 

“Shit I have to get closer, I’m coming down stairs. Keep me informed.”

I raced down the stairs, and went out the back door to be on the opposite side of Hailey. Hailey and I both spotted each other as the boys were making their plans. 

We were both far away from them where they wouldn’t hear us or see us.

“We will wait until one of them is left” I said into the walkie. “wait for my nod”

Justin and Za left to go back in the house, as we waiting or them to go deep enough in the house where they couldn’t save Khalil.

Khalil was sitting there like a duck, blunt in mouth, his back turned to us. I nodded at Hailey and we closed in to the target. Once we’re both behind him, Hailey and I pulled the trigger and shot Khalil at the same time. 

“Noooooo” Khalil dramatically sank to floor as his knees hit first. I saw Justin watch the scene from the balcony, shot’s were fired, Hailey and I ran away from the scene. 2 more to go.

“Let’s split up, I get Za you get Justin” She said, I nodded. 

“Let me know when you are done with your attack” I said. Hailey continued to run where I hid behind the bush still watching Khalil pout as Justin come running down asking where we went.

Justin ran right by me into Hailey’s direction. Once he was far away Hailey said she located Za in the garage, I knew to go back to my spot on the balcony, I ran behind Khalil as his eyes were closed, I snuck my way inside the house and ran up the stairs. 

I went towards the guest room with the balcony. 

Hailey radioed me that she got Za. I saw her drag Za and sit him by Khalil on the patio. She snuck around back behind, so Khalil or Za couldn’t find her but just in case Justin would show up she could aim for a nice shot.

I turned off my radio, I heard a click.

I immediately turned around with my gun pointed.

“I really don’t want to do this, but you play dirty baby” Justin said with smirk as he inched closer with his gun pointed and loaded.

“What can I say I’ve learned from the best” I circled around him looking for a point of exit

“Don’t try to get yourself out of this one, I locked the door”

“I could just pull the trigger right now” I said with an eyebrow raised.

“Drop all of your guns, you know the rules, your back was turned to me”

“You shot at me with no gun today, that was also against the rules”

“Not if I missed on purpose” He licked his lips. “Drop them”

There was some sexual tension, but I had a game to win. We were both so competitive.

“How about we make a deal, we both shoot at each other, you still loose, I still have Hailey, waiting, we would still win”

“We both know Hailey is no match for me, I know exactly where she is.”

“We can walk away, we can tie” I compromised.

“Not if I shoot first” He said. “Drop them first and we will make that deal”

“I don’t trust you, you won’t shoot first anyways”

“Why you think that?”

“Cos you only have one bullet” I laughed.

“Smart girl” He raised his eyebrows.”Alright, we’ll make the deal, we both drop the guns, but you have to give head if you want a tie” 

“Sounds like I’m still loosing no matter what”

“Well guess we have to see, won’t we” 

“Fine” I rolled my eyes. 

We both slowly put our gun’s on the waist tall dresser

Justin took my face in his hands and stuck his tongue in mouth, he sucked on my lip.

“You’re so hot when you listen to me” He whispered into my neck. I moaned into him. I pushed him away a little.

I clicked the the walkie talkie, Justin continued to suck on my neck “I have located Justin, I have one bullet left so I’m have to wait until he is not as alert”

“Okay no problem, let me know if you need back up”

“Okay girl”

I placed the walkie back on the table and smiled at Justin.

“See, I can be cooperative” I said with dripping sarcasm.

“I know baby, let’s see how cooperative you can be” He smirked and sat at the edge of the bed.

I kissed him again ass he palmed breast through the big t-shirt that was his.

“First let’s rehash what we were doing in the kitchen” Justin grabbed my ass as he ripped my panties in half.

“You’ll have to remind me” I smiled.

Justin’s hands slithered down reaching my clit, as he spread my wetness around my clit, two fingers entered inside of me. I felt my eyes dilate with the lust as he pumped inside me, consistently hitting my wall, adding an amazing amount of pressure.

He pulled his fingers out of me, I moaned from the loss, his fingers were drenched in my arousal. He placed his fingers inside of his mouth and moaned as he sucked it in. I bit my lip. He was such a freak.

“So delicious” He whispered on my lips, as our tongues connected I could taste myself on his lips, it was so erotic, I basically swallowed his tongue whole. He released his cock from his shorts and quickly thrusted inside of me, I felt whole once again. The ache I was feeling was getting fed. He slowly rocked into me as his hands were gripping against my hips slowly sliding me up and down his rigid cock, I felt like I would be the first one to cum. I have felt myself quickly building up like a wave, his deep shallow thrusts were making me moan into him, my nipples hardened at the rubbing against his chest. I was so turned on, fucking while our friends were waiting for us, just loving Justin’s rigid cock pumping repeatedly into me, he hit the same spot over and over and over, it was just right, his next thrust sent me in shock, as his cock hit a nerve that made me shake uncontrollably, I felt my impending orgasm rush through my whole body and I rolled my eyes back, his shallow thrusts slowed  down as he lifted me off of his dick.

“I want to cum in your mouth” he said as he pushed me on my knees and took his cock between my lips and sucked the head as pre cum rushed out. His eyes squeezed shut preventing himself to not shoot his load. I reached from under the bed and grabbed the gun I purposefully left under the bed the first time I came up to the balcony room. I smirked at my great plan.

I moaned as his dick was deep down my throat and Justin’s body jolted, he was about to cum soon, his cock twitched in my mouth as I bobbed my head up and down, Justin groaned as he shot his load down the back of my throat, I sucked every drop, his dick was a burning pink and his eyes were closed.

“Open you’re eyes baby” I said in the sweetest voice.

As soon as Justin opened his eyes he gave me a humorless laugh as I pulled the trigger releasing the bullet right into his stomach make a loud pop sound.

“I always win, baby” I stuck my tongue at him. I tugged on a new pair of panties and pulled down the long shirt.

“Hailz we won” I said into the walkie as I looked at Justin’s exhausted body trying to catch his breath.

I saw her run out of hiding and shoot the boys with the left over amo.

I walked out of the guest room, leaving Justin behind to replay how I tricked him. 

This game never got old.

[shared-diaries-online]

Entry 15 - Gifts and Curses (Part 2)

January 1, 2019

Dear “Diary,”

         Happy New Year! … ? I mean, it doesn’t feel like a new year for me. I’m in the middle of this flirtation process with the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office, but the office is closed for the holidays. Or not really, close, but it’s easy for “non-essential” staff to get some time off. And maybe I should be concerned for my job that I’m in that category, but I also know A LOT about what the higher ups do on their business trip. And maybe that’s really what’s going on…. That’s not important.

         A "new year” will never feel like a “new year” to someone who is as obsessed with the past as I am. And Ada is a big part of that. We never got any real closure, and I am desperate to hold onto anything that remotely seems like closure. That doesn’t usually work out, but I still try.

         So if last entry cut off a bit abruptly, I apologize. For one, it was getting too long, and two, I still wasn’t quite sure how to handle certain aspects of it.

         I mean, I want to put Ada’s parents on blast, but then again, I never bothered to get their side of the story. Maybe that shouldn’t matter when I’m going to such lengths to shield EVERYONE’s identity, and I have a vested interest in keeping it that way. However, that may only be relevant in a legal case, and I’m more concerned about ethics. And yet, I don’t think they were.

         I’m being judgmental, yes, but at least, I’m aware that my blood is boiling, and I’m inclined to lash out. I went to a Catholic mass on Sunday. I jump around. Like I said, I was religious once, studied religion, and now don’t know what I want to do or where I want to be. But Catholicism lost a couple points with me for the readings last Sunday…. Yes, it was the feast of the Holy Family, so I don’t know what I was expecting, but the first reading was that passage about children honoring their parents, how you have to do it, and how sinful it is not to.

         Here’s the thing: good parents should be revered just like the text says, even if they struggle with modern technology, even if they get sick with something like dementia, even when they struggle. Good parents did everything they could to help you. They taught you things like how to use a spoon, they guided you, they supported you, and they loved you. Also, you probably vomited on them once or twice. But no matter what comical or genuine challenges you threw their way, they endured.

         Not all parents are great parents, though. And that’s a problem we don’t always think too much about. In fact, it was likely something the scripture author didn’t think about. In some ways, it may be understandable. It’s not a malicious denial but a defensive one. Destroying the illusion of safety and perfection may cause an existential crisis of some sort. But Ada’s parent’s were pretty horrible, and you can bet they didn’t deserve one fricking bit of her respect, love, and obedience. They were monsters. Through and through.

         Here’s the thing: Ada didn’t know anything about her disease. Celiac disease is manageable, especially in a gluten-free-fad age. The most important thing is to avoid gluten, but the problem was her parents never explained to her what gluten was. They made it out to be this ever-present boogie man lurking in every restaurant, home, and non-Mormon church. Really, the main things to avoid are wheat, rye, and barley. There are other things, yes, but it’s not a daunting list. I learned it all in one afternoon, and I had a short attention span in those days. They never told her that. Instead, they spent all their time filling her with head with scary stories about a monster that actually wasn’t real. Oh and talking to wait staff? They told her that it wouldn’t be welcomed. She would be hated, which was horrible in and of itself, but they would also spit in her food, contaminating it and making her sick anyway. Because, yes, gluten could make her very, very, very sick. (On this they were right but literally only this.)

         So, yeah, they gave her permission to go everywhere, knowing full well she was too scared to. I think back to their grins when they were pushing her to come with us, and I want to punch their stupid faces. They got off of it, probably. They got off on their daughter’s misery. You can’t see or hear it, but I’m seething.

         Would all Mormons do this? Obviously not, but they used their religion to justify it. I asked them about it. After she died…. They were surprisingly unrepentant for religious people. So no, they weren’t good Mormons, and they weren’t good parents, but I’ll get to that.

         When I came into her life, Ada felt emboldened to go places with her friends. Only if I was there, and that was fine. Because I always wanted to be with her.  She was beautiful, wonderful, and warm. I was drawn to her. I loved her, and in time, she fell in love with me too. I don’t know how it happened, but we were sitting in a diner together, and we were each eating gluten free pizzas. The waiter had complimented her on being so supportive of me. She smiled her beautiful smile. Her eyes twinkled as the nightmare gave way to genuine paradise.

         Ada took a bite, smirking. Then she chuckled nervously. But at first, she didn’t say anything.

         “What?” I asked.

         “I think I love you,” she whispered.

         “Think?”

         “I’m scared,” she confessed.

         “I’m scared of everything,” I hastily replied. She chuckled again. “Really. Anything can go wrong at any time. Like now. In this diner. The ceiling could fall on us. A car could drive through this large window. Anything can happen, but I like being around you. You make me happy. I love you too. So…. whatever.”

         She reached across the table and took my hand. Just for a moment. And then she pulled back. She was always like that. One second she was there, and then she was gone. But not literally gone just emotionally/mentally. I wouldn’t say she was “hot and cold,” but she was hurting. And I understood. The entire world was a new one for her, and after about sixteen years of being told to fear it, she’d need time to get used to this new world. In my mind, I was meeting her half way. And that was that.

         Which is what I should have done for the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office, even if she was just a coworker back then.  I shouldn’t have snapped at her in the elevator. Asking me if I had food allergies was the natural course of the conversation. I didn’t need to be rude.

         I wanted to make it right. And in my mind, that meant making sure she could participate in the lunches. I just didn’t know how. It was in the back of my mind as I processed expenses and invoices as they came in. Which is not great. Here’s the thing about accounts payable: if you pay someone too much, they are not going to tell you. Second thing: if you don’t have a contract making sure you can get extra money back, they ain’t going to give you a cent back. So you have to be careful, especially when the organization’s budget is tight, especially when you’re are a new job, and especially when your predecessor got fired for being careless.

         But when guilt demands your attention, you can’t help but oblige. I replayed that conversation on repeat whenever I was sitting at my desk, and still, I managed to catch a mistake on an invoice from one of the restaurants that we buy our lunches from.

         It hadn’t been a particularly good lunch, which might have been why I was so critical of the bill. And this wasn’t me being overly critical, either. Large sections of the pan of pasta were burned. There was no amount of money we could rightly pay for that, but we certainly weren’t going to pay for four pans when we only got (terrible) one.

         The guy (let’s call him Kevin) didn’t answer when I called to get a corrected bill. He returned my call an hour later, apologizing profusely. He might have thought I was a lot angrier than I actual was; it’s just how I come across over the phone. Not that I corrected him at all… Look, I wasn’t that angry. I just wanted a new bill that reflected what we actually got (on a quantitative level).

         But what I said was “Kevin, what would have happened if I actually paid this bill? Would you have done it again?”

         It was a genuine mistake, he swore.

         “How can I be sure?”

         With gifts of course! A free lunch (and a corrected bill).

         I accepted, though it was not my decision to make.

         Our HR department handled the free lunches, and by that, I mean our HR manager, who was the only person in the so-called department. To her credit, she was able to do the work of an entire department, but at what personal expense, I still don’t quite understand. Not that I ever asked, but when she’s snippy with me, I take it in stride and never expect an apology. Instead, I’m just surprised she didn’t do anything worse.

         After I got off the call with Kevin, I called her on the interoffice line. She sounded exhausted when she answered. I don’t even know what she said. It came out far too strangled for me to make sense of it.

         I ignored the plight I could do nothing about. “Did you order the lunch for next week?”

         She groaned.

         “Relax. I took care of it.”

         “Really?” she squeaked.

         “Yeah, one of the vendors messed up our receipt. He thought I was a lot angrier than I actually am, so free lunch.” I paused. “And one less thing for you to do.”

         She thanked me and a number of deities profusely. Clearly, she was having a moment that had little to do with me, so I slowly hung up the phone. It was awkward, yes, so I took a personal moment before I picked up the phone and called Kevin back to go over the menu. I wanted to ask him for things they couldn’t mess up, but I restrained myself.

         “We’re good to go,” I said. “And we really appreciate the gesture. It’s nice to know that you guys are going to make things right when things happen. Because that’s how life works. Things happen sometimes.”

         “We at [REDACTED] aren’t going to let ‘things happen.’ We take pride in our work. How about some cookies?”

         “Well, I’ve been told to not turn down free food.”

         “Gluten free or vegan?”

         I internally groaned. They couldn’t just have normal cookies? If you can’t cook pasta, I thought, you can’t get creative with the cookies. Actually, it was just a decision I didn’t want to make. The words “gluten free” set me off, and now all I wanted to do was disengage.

         “Just send one dozen of each, and label them.”

         My tone couldn’t be argued with, though I think Kevin only wanted to send one dozen cookies. But sure enough, the next lunch came and so did two dozen cookies: one gluten-free and one vegan. They came in white sharpies with large black letters declaring their defining characteristic. The words “gluten-free” are their own were painful to look at. So I turned away just as she—the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office—walked in, bag lunch in her hand. She at least glanced towards the food, though the odds were she couldn’t have any.

         I watched her carefully. Far too carefully.  There was certainly no need for me to stare her down. I’d like to think it was because I was just so desperate to come up with some sort of an apology: a week’s old apology. That’s not a great justification for staring. There really isn’t one. But as I watched her, the gluten-free cookies caught her eye. I saw a twinkle therein. She smirked, glanced around (but didn’t see me looking) and grabbed two.

         I relaxed. It wouldn’t be too hard for me to make this right.

Digitally Yours (and may be again sooner than usually maybe…),

Alex

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Find my whole story on shareddiaries.online/red

[incoherentham]

Updates

I have a deck of flashcards where I put all of the factoids or bits of advice I’ve changed my mind about. This is my summary of those cards.

Lifehack: use velcro strips to keep common items where you want them

velcro is so tacky, I am never actually going to recommend this to anyone.

Lifehack: If you don't want to forget whether you've done something, like turn off the stove or close the garage door, do something unusual while you're doing it.

giving yourself extra associations indeed helps you remember things, but this issue is better tackled by other means than memory tricks such as checklists or strengthening the habit.

Lifehack: Microwave leftovers evenly by spreading your food in a doughnut shape

I have yet to encounter evidence that this actually helps, and recall it being debunked somewhere. Judging from the cooking patterns of potatoes, I have a hunch that what really matters is the thickness of food, not its location on the plate. If placement ever helps at all I bet it's dependent on the make of the microwave.

State a goal so it's most achievable by stating it in terms of measurable behaviors

My rationality senses are tingling. This feels like technically correct advice, which when followed in practicality will lead to going through motions vaguely related to the goal or listing out the specific things I can flog myself for failing at. It can be a useful push but could be harmful for me or people sufficiently like me.

Vim (on mac): you can't copy a portion of a line to the clipboard.

:'<,'>w !pbcopy acts as if you selected with Visual Line by default, it's quite annoying. My partner Lauren found a workaround that lets you do partial-line selects. I haven't put it into my vimrc, but I am so very happy to know that there's a way.

When I say I want to "persuade" people, I mean "bend the likelihood that someone does a thing, in a way they perceive as their own will"

This was a strict improvement on my previous mental framing around persuasion, which was not the sort of persuasion one wants to employ on people one likes, so I didn't do much changing of minds. This new definition pushed me to pause and explore the interaction between how people perceive my behaviors/actions and what actually causes their own behaviors. It's an alright framework for assessing persuasion tricks or attempts, but it's not the right mindset to actually attempt persuasion in.

Persuasive levers acronym: CAGED: Comfort, Acceptance, Greed, Ego, Drama

Based loosely off 'How to win friends'. Never actually used them. They're too abstract to build a strategy quickly off of, and the acronym is creepy.

Formatting SRS knowledge:

"use simpler models; you can always build on them later on": This is so vague it's useless

"Flashcard answers should be as short as possible?": I think people using SRS for complex or diverse topics stand a real risk of making cards lexically short instead of conceptually basic. Terseness is a good practice proxy for simplicity, but in the long run it's not the same thing.

"You should eliminate interference as soon as you spot it": No. I think you should keep it in there until you actually resolve the question of which is the correct answer

When you have next action, set up a trigger for it

This led to massive proliferation of terrible and often contradictory next actions. There needs to be an evaluation step in there.

If planning time permits, loop on contingency planning

I never progress from tweaking my plans to actually implementing them when I loop on contingency planning, and usually work myself into paranoia/defeatism besides. This needs more specific instructions to avoid the failure mode.

Contingency planning should be rapid and intense.

I disagree that it should be rapid and intense; I think it should be smooth. If you work yourself in a hurry or panic you are doing yourself a great disservice. See above.

You can use the subject's blog or twitter to help track down the context of an interview quote.

I tried this a couple times and couldn't find anything useful. It's potentially more useful for people who read news daily instead of catching up on it months later.

Rule 240: if your flight is cancelled or delayed, the airline has to offer you any available seat on the next flight out on any carrier.

That rule is way out of date. Similarish promises called "conditions of carriage" vary by airline and generally only apply if it's absolutely the airline's fault.

Having a narrow vision of possibilities in a social scene makes acting on opportunities difficult.

I was trying to make enough sense of social anxiety to do something about it. Social anxiety creates stress, which creates tunnel vision and reactive reasoning, which makes me even worse at solving on-the-spot social problems. This idea was not concrete enough to help me recognize and make sense of what was happening in the moment. On the occasions I did remember, it left me nothing to do about my anxiety except feel more anxious because I was probably missing opportunities.

I just said something. I should expect I'll need to repeat myself

I speak quietly. Expecting to need to repeat myself grates at something in me, and I'd rather solve this problem by learning to speak more loudly.

When I feel flicker of uncertainty about social event, insist on my ground rules: Clear plan for how I'll get back, when, what the price range is and who's paying it. Because people breaking your boundaries hurts you more than any potential benefit.

True but not easily implementable. I don't know how to actually get words out in some timely way, and it's too easy for [redacted] and [redacted] to distract me from pressing the point.

Notice subverbal thought, snap fingers

Cool idea for training gestalt thinking, but I never remember it except right after the card comes up. I need to think of a more specific trigger, that would target especially useful times to work in nonverbal concepts.

If there's a choice with many options, write down the top level clusters. Assessment time is less valuable than time spent implementing and pivoting; better to map the option space and pick with random number generator.

I think randomization is a very useful tool to avoid systematic bias, and I think people underutilize it. However, intuition and precedent are also very useful heuristics. Making a good decision about when to leverage which technique requires some technical understanding. That judgment has to be trained, and can't be replaced with a simple habit recommendation.

When work is boring, have fun

I was trying to learn a motto as if it were a habit. Have Fun is not actually an action though.

When I'm confused in conversation, say "Wow, I did not understand that. In particular, X."

When I felt confused or overwhelmed, I would silently shut down and stop contributing or paying attention, which was a problem because some of the really interesting conversations in the Bay Area get very confusing. This habit was meant to give me an opening back into an information-dense conversation. I didn't get a chance to use it before I moved to Utah. My current biggest concern is shutting down in important office meetings, and its phrasing is too brazen to use there.

The most common psychological effect posited to explain the surge of suicides in May and June is the broken promise effect; people think things will get better in the spring, and then they don't

Apparently the May/June suicide phenomenon used to be larger and is now disappearing (acc. to data in switzerland). I got this card secondhand, its source is a NY times article, and it's an isolated factoid I don't have any other context to evaluate in.

To eat a cupcake with class, cut the bottom away from the muffin-top and place it on top of the frosting. You now have a classy cupcake sandwich.

I don't get how you're supposed to bite into the cupcake sandwich without squishing out all the frosting. This seems like only a marginal improvement, not worth memorizing.

If you can say "I think" in place of "I feel", say that instead

This is an attempt to gloss everyday language into a more NVC-friendly format. I thought this would be a strict improvement over claiming your thoughts as an emotional experience, so no one can defend ridiculous claims with "You can't say I'm wrong about my feelings!", but in practice you can still defend a lot of malicious accusations under a thin banner of "that's just my perspective!".

As I notice I'm missing knowledge, I should note to myself that my current mechanisms don't route through an important area

Too vague. The notes about "I don't understand this" just kind of pile up and make me feel stressed without providing a viable pathway to fix my blindspots.

When I'm trying to go to sleep, run through steps: Breathe. Replay my day. Mentally "turn off" body parts. Count backwards.

This is such a long instruction step I never get all the way through. Execution, especially on Replaying my day, is too varied for habit reinforcement to catch on.

When feeling suspicious/paranoid of people, make a small hand wave to draw attention to myself. Admit distrust aloud if possible and an option of how to respond to it. ("I distrust this, AND I will...")

Habitually stancing myself as if other people are out to get me really hinders my working ability and emotional wellbeing. I hoped this would break vicious isolation cycles and help me accumulate evidence for my System 1 that paranoia wasn't warranted. Unfortunately, examples of people responding well did not accumulate faster than my discomfort at forcing myself to do unsafe-feeling things.

When you're in "cold" emotional states, use your self-control to build systems that prevent poor decision-making

To the extent that I think I know how to build a "system that prevents poor decision-making", it constrains my actions too much and I have no room to build feedback cycles.

An example of using problem-solving instead of punishment with kids: "What can we work out so that you can use my tools when you need them, and so that I'll be sure they're there when I need them?"

I expect that this gets implemented a lot as "here, let me tell you an extremely constrained formulation of the problem for which the only logical solution is to do exactly what I want you to do".

Record 'bugs' on paper or in Stride app.

One of the tricks I've discovered when training a skill is to pick a concrete target I can hit on a ratio between 1:4 to 4:1, and just keep track of that ratio while ignoring the impulse to analyze what I'm doing to cause the result. (This has correlaries in neural networks with RPROP and RMSPROP.) This is supposed to operate on a similar principle of "this is just a data point". At some point it turned into a depressing commentary and lists of complaints.

One project a week

It sounds impressive to announce your intentions to do cool stuff on a regular basis. I wasn't very motivated to actually work on the stuff though.

Dan notices that his chain smoker dad has still lived to 90 without lung cancer, and infers that cigarettes aren't that bad for you. His reasoning flaw is misuse of the availability heuristic.

Misusing the availability heuristic, yes. I think the general strategy of copying your long-lived relatives' habits is actually pretty robust.

You can set up a system to self-regulate by making an action for a change that also suppresses the triggers for related actions from firing for a while

A textbook answer that will not in any way guide me to recognize or create such systems in real life.

My blog posts should first and foremost have a story arc. For any information source in a blog post, I should aim to include reproducible methods.

I fail at the stage of make myself write words, aiming for a particular writing style doesn't help much.

Tinkering vs. pure rationality techniques: overlearn the pure styles at the start, then make them your own.

Need to operationalize 'overlearn' more. I don't have good systems in place to keep up deliberate practice.

When soliciting feedback, spread my arms or make a pinching motion to denote the scope of corrective feedback I'm looking for. (Overarching changes for a prototype, or details to fix on a final draft?)

I'm not asking for in-person feedback readily enough to practice this habit. Until I am, this mostly turns into an anxious gesture to ask that people not criticize me about things I'm too fragile to think about right now.

Framework of Technical vs. Adaptive problems

Rationalists tend to favor a narrative where every problem has a technical solution, and ones you think don't are really just poorly framed or under-specified. I think this narrative encourages tilting at windmills. Adaptive-ish problems exists in the sense that there are some things that you are going just keep getting wrong, and maybe never even see from inside whatever framework you are currently using to think about your problems, no matter how many meta levels you go up. I don't think technical/adaptive carves concept-space at its joints; it's obscuring something fundamental to distinguishing kinds-of-problems.

When I'm notice anxious, perfectionist behavior, open my arms wide and say "I trust you" to myself

So hokey. It was a very good stopgap measure, but not enough.

Stretch and intentionally take up space when I enter a personal area

This is me refusing to flinch from the world before it gives me a reason to. (It's what HJPEV would do.) It's another habit where I'm trying to reverse-invoke a brainstate by replicating the outcomes it would have caused. It's not a bad idea — Fake it till you make it is a thing, stepping outside of self-reinforcing cycles is a thing. But such interventions are not powerful enough to counteract whatever common causal factor keeps regenerating these issues.

If a debuggee is giving nothing to work with, say "Some things come to mind. Let me give you four ideas.. Is it <3 examples of what I suspect>.. or something else?"

The "or something else" is a very important part, and with the way my explanations meander I don't often get to it.

My prayer...

The world as my witness I call upon you to know and be known in return The void as my jury I call upon you The damning and beautiful silence My heartbeat as signal The knock knock that matters So long as you can feel at all Nothing must stop me but that which can stop me So mote it be

It's based on a core mindset concept I recently scrapped. I tweaked this prayer too often for it to act as good anchor anyways; better to start from scratch.