#PLEASE PLAY PATHOLOGIC FOR ME GUYS

[cakedpie-reblogs]

@rizzzcat @marzipanpisser

let's be bad at video games together

[infamous-if]

hey amy, i dont know how to ask for this so please excuse my stumbling to do so: but can chapter 4 be the first chapter where we can select the option to "do you want to skip to the new content?" and make pre-selected choices about our MCs to see chapter 4 asap instead of playing through the prologue, chapter 1, 2, and 3 again?? would that be alright to request? bc i love the game, and i do enjoy replaying, but my specific brand of autism (aka: pathological demand avoidance) doesnt like that i HAVE to replay the game to see the new content, bc my autism saw the last one as a "a new demand" even rhough i k ow it kind of isnt. id rather have the agency to choose if i want to replay or if i want to see the new stuff asap, if thats alright. i hope my intention to be polite and sincere comes across well here, tone in text is hard for me. i hope youre having a good day btw and i cant wait to see chapter 4 (take your time)

That’s a okay to request, don’t worry! I’ll try to do that 🙏 I know it’s annoying having to replay all again it’s mostly because I’m a never ending editor so I’m always adding stuff and putting new stuff in but I’ll try to do that whole “skip to content” thing!!!

I’ll def be adding that in! Sorry everyone for making you guys slog through chapters you’ve already read lol 😭

[heyheydidjaknow]

Two in a row! We’re back in business! We aren’t going for three in a row but I do want to at least acknowledge that Dazai exists if we’re doing the bsd thing now.

Kindling

You were supposed to be fun.

He remembered the day he met you in that coffee shop. He had an hour to kill before a meeting. The shop was dead— the local schools had not been let out yet— and you stood behind the counter, eyes flickering from the clock on the wall above the door to the textbook in front of you. He had never been there before. He never had much reason to bother around largely residential areas before then. He had never seen you before. But you were nice to look at, so he approached the counter.

He liked the look you gave him. Cold, annoyed, almost indignant, desperate in the overblown way students often are: it took you a moment to remember your manners. You must have been new in town. “How may I help you?”

“One black coffee, please.” He smiled politely.

You straightened yourself up, not bothering to hide the way your gaze flitted between him, your book, the clock. “How much sugar?”

He blinked. “I said—“

“You’re not a black coffee drinker,” you answered dismissively, clearly distracted. “I’ve served three guys today already who asked for black coffee and then asked for cream and sugar and— no offense, guy— I’m so not in the mood to waste more of my time.” You picked a pencil from between the pages of your book, grabbing a notepad from your apron. “So, how much sugar, and how much cream?”

“Do you know who I am?”

You paused at that, giving him a once over. “No,” you said. “Should I?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, an easy smile crossing his bandaged face. “No,” he replied. “You shouldn’t.”

You tapped your foot against the ground. “Fascinating. So—“

“May I ask you a question?” He nodded at the book. “How come you’re studying so hard at this time of day? It’s not midterm season already, is it?”

You looked down at the floor. “No.” Your brow furrowed. “Why is this your business, exactly?”

“It’s not.” He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

You swallowed. “Huh.” Regret. “I’m sorry for snapping at you; I’m in a bit of a rush to get this stuff done.”

“What sort of stuff?”

You held the pencil between your forefinger and thumb, rolling it back and forth between them. “I’m helping a friend with a project. I owe him one, and he’s in a different time zone so my part is due in a couple hours.”

He went on his toes, peering over the register to read the textbook’s text. “Forensic pathology,” he noted. “Is your friend a criminologist?”

You shook your head. “A writer,” you explained. “He needs a comprehensive explanation of how corpses rot, and I’m the only one he knows with an understanding of that sort of thing.” You pursed your lips. “What he doesn’t know is that I’m taking this class as an elective and that I also have no idea how a corpse rots. But I can’t tell him that, because then I’d be letting him down, and he’s put so much trust in me and helped me so many times—“

He stopped you. “That’s all?” He held his hands behind his back. “Well, that’s simple enough. Most anyone downtown can tell you that.” His smile brightened. “How about we make a deal? If you pay for my drink and promise that this won’t take…” He looked back at the clock. It was an hour off. He wondered if you knew. “If you promise it won’t take longer than forty-five minutes, I can give you all the grisly details of human decomposition, with added notes accounting for weather, location, and time of day.”

The look of hesitant relief on your face brought him a sense of satisfaction he had not felt in a long time. You took a deep breath. “Sir,” you nodded, “you have yourself a deal.”

“Call me Osamu.”

You were easy. That was what first drew him to you. You had no reason to lie to him, so you did not. You had no reason to respect him, so you treated him like anyone else. The two of you— at least on the slice-of-life flavored stage the two of you played on— were equals, which he appreciated. Not many people offered him that luxury. The ones who did tended to disappear in the night for one reason or another, but you had no reason to, so you did not. Your problems were largely emotional. You stayed out of trouble. You were consistent. You were simple.

More important than your being simple, however, was the fact that you thought of him as a liar.

He remembered the conversation well. It was a Thursday. He had a couple hours before he was scheduled to help his newest apprentice train. The coffee shop was as slow as it always was and you, as always, stood behind it with a casual dismissiveness that would have gotten you beaten were you in different company. You had been in town long enough to know of the mafia— about a month— but had not yet accepted all of the stories you heard as true. You were recounting one of those stories to him, weight leaned against the counter as you described an incident regarding a teenager with phantom black limbs that could, without his so much as lifting a finger, murder a building’s worth of people in an instant.

“It’s bullshit, obviously.” You took a sip from your water. “I don’t get what they’re trying to prove; if they wanted to scare me, they’d come up with a half-decent lie.”

He did not have to smile around you— to you, he was nobody— but he did regardless. You were fun. “I know him,” he said. “I tutor him.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? What do you tutor him in?”

“Martial arts.” He took a sip from his coffee, which was thoroughly diluted with copious amounts of sugar and cream. You were right; it was bitter. “He’s not very good. He keeps trying to think of himself as a hand-to-hand combatant when he’s much more suited for support and has such a large inferiority complex that he loses all sense of strategy in exchange for a slavish need to validate his existence. In other words, he is close to useless.”

And, of course, you groaned tiredly. “Why are you encouraging them?” you asked. “You already know I know it’s bullshit; what kick do you get out of me already knowing?”

“I’m not lying,” he insisted, knowing you would not believe him. “I’ve been with him on hits before; a couple months ago, we killed thirty people in cold blood.”

And you laughed half-heartedly— as you should; to any regular person who did not know about how many bodies they had hidden, these claims were beyond ridiculous— and said, “Well, I knew the man that trained you, and I know he has a small dick, so what do you think of that?”

“I’m just glad to know he isn’t a pedophile.”

“Shut up and drink your coffee.”

He wondered what you thought of him sometimes. For the first week or so, you asked him questions, but you learned quickly that he was never going to give you satisfactory answers. You probably thought he was an ass, but you still talked to him like you would a peer, so he kept showing up. You must have thought he was a dick. He was sure that he was by your standards.

Once, on a Sunday, he had to attend a funeral. He had some time to kill before, so he walked into the coffee shop, clad in clothes nicer than what was typical, and ordered.

You looked him over. “You got a date?”

“No,” he replied, cheerful. “I have a funeral in an hour.”

You set his cup in front of him. “Oh. For someone you know?”

“My boss,” he explained. “He died the other day so we’re doing a service.”

“Oh.” Your brow furrowed, sympathy making way for confusion. “I’m… I’m sorry, but did you like him?”

He shrugged. “He was alright.”

“How long were you under him?”

He considered it. “A couple years?”

“Oh.” You nodded. “So enough time for your nonchalance to be weird. Cool.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s not as if he were my father.” He leaned back in his seat. “He was bound to get shot eventually; I’m just surprised it took this long.”

“He was what?”

“Shot,” he repeated. “In his sleep.”

You lowered your voice, looking around the cafe like someone would come out to shoot the two of you. “What,” you mumbled, “like an assassination?”

He nodded, looking around courteously. “Exactly. But it’s alright; they won’t stick around too long, I’m sure.”

“How come?”

He leaned his head on his hand. “I don’t imagine whoever did it could get very far out of the city. People are upset that he’s dead; I’m sure someone will lash out.”

You crossed your arms, swallowing thickly. “You know most people don’t speak so casually about people getting shot or whatever.”

“Well,” he shrugged again, “it happens often enough. It’s not like being formal is going to bring him back from the dead; who cares?”

“Don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you…?” You searched for the right word. “… I don’t know, shaken? He was a coworker, wasn’t he?”

He took a sip from his coffee. “Yeah.”

“So, isn’t his death a bit shocking?”

“Not really.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, actually, that’s a lie. It means I’m in line for a promotion, and I thought I’d have to wait for him to die of a heart attack for it, so I’m happy about that.”

You cradled your head in your hands. “I don’t think you get my meaning,” you insisted. “Do you not feel anything for his death?”

He set the mug down, meeting your eyes. “No,” he repeated. “I don’t.”

Your questions were simple. “Why?”

“Because,” he answered, “His death was inevitable and his life’s impact on mine was nearly nonexistent. All he did was give me orders; why would I care if he died?

You stared at him, meeting his cold, bottomless eyes with ones aflame with passion. “You sound like a serial killer,” you said.

His smile was as vacant as the rest of him. “I feel like one.”

You were fun until you were not. If asked to identify when your relationship— acquaintanceship, friendship, whatever you called it— stopped being fun, he would point to an otherwise inconspicuous Monday morning three weeks after the funeral. The two of you were splitting a cinnamon roll. It was your break and you got a discount and you had no desire to eat a whole one. You were talking about something silly— a friend of yours had broken up with your other friend— when you had stopped in the middle of a sentence to look out the window, seemingly distracted by something. Witnessing this development, he turned to look out the window too, only to see that the scene outside— an overcast sky, street populated by people rushing on their way to work— had not, in fact, changed since he last looked out the window. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

Your words were soft, eyes transfixed on the window. “I need to buy a decent camera,” you murmured. “Or write. Or paint.”

“You want to take a picture?” He looked out the window again. The scene was still the same. “Of what?”

“Leave me alone, Osamu.”

“I’m not messing with you,” he said. “I just have no idea what you could possibly be looking at.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You gestured with your fork, not looking in his direction. “You have a reputation. I refuse to indulge you in something you’ll clown on me for.”

He sighed. “You are being so over dramatic.”

You shot him a glare. “I told you my friend’s boyfriend got stabbed last week and you said, and I quote, ‘I wish I could say the same.’”

“Yeah, but that was a joke.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not my fault you have a lame sense of humor,” he protested. “Why won’t you tell me?”

You peeled your attention from the window. “You wanna know what I think?” You gave him a cold smile. “I think you’re so neurotically obsessed with knowing everything that whatever joy you’ll get from knowing will be totally outweighed by the amount of pleasure I get at getting to make you squirm for once.” You stuck your tongue out. “You’re the nihilist. Suffer under the weight of your ideals, dipshit.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Do you seriously think I can’t get you to tell me? Is this the hill you want to die on?”

“What if it is?” You crossed your arms, mimicking his pose. “What if it was really emotionally impactful to me? What if it was literally nothing and I’m just fucking with you? What, are you going to torture an answer out of me?” Your smile grew. “I get why you do this now; this is fun.”

He huffed. “You’re such a child.”

“No, you’re just easy to read.” You reached for your drink, cradling it to your chest. “Lenin gave himself a heart attack when he came to power, you know; it’s not healthy to obsess like that.”

He crossed his arms. “It was a stroke,” he grumbled. “He died of a stroke.”

“See, like that. You have issues.” You crossed your legs. “ Maybe it’d be good for you not to know.” You covered your mouth as he leaned forward and adopted an all too familiar smile. “And so help me if you try and seduce me into telling you what I saw so help me I will laugh you out of the room.”

His face soured. He stared you down, and you stared back, unphased, because why would you not? The two of you were equals as far as you were concerned; this was how you treated your peers, and despite the fact that the two of you barely knew each other in any meaningful way, you knew him enough to know what the rules of the game he was trying to play were even if you did not know what it was called. “I could kill you,” he said. “I know plenty of ways to do it. I know how to make it hurt, too.”

And you, knowing you had won, replied, “You could, but you won’t. Who would serve you your coffee?”

The two of you stared each other down one last time. Finally– and mercifully, he liked to think– he looked away. “You win.” He tossed his hands up. “That’s all my cards.”

Your smile softened at the edges. “Good.” You sat up. “I’m not going to tell you what I was looking at, but I can tell you how to see it, if you want. That way you get to know but you don’t get to be all smug.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved you off. “Because I’m not allowed to win, right?”

“If I knew you weren’t going to try and rule-lawyer me, I would just tell you.”

“I spend too much time here.”

“You said it.” You set the fork and the cup down on the table. “Close your eyes.”

He groaned. “I am so not into meditation.”

“Is that backtalk I hear?”

“No, no,” he relented, closing his eyes. “I’m with it or whatever. Now what?”

Your voice lowered. “Breathe in.”

He inhaled.

“And out.”

He exhaled.

“Now,” you continued, “what do you hear?”

“You talking to me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You asked.”

You huffed. “I– look, besides me, what do you hear?”

He paused, considering it. “People outside,” he said. “And the air conditioning unit. And the milk steamer.”

“Good.” He heard you sit back in your seat again. “And physically, what do you feel?”

“Isn’t this a panic attack thing?”

“Answer my question.”

He considered it. “It’s cold in here.”

Your voice was soft. He wondered how exactly this place stayed in business for how quiet it was. “What do you taste?”

“For giving someone who was just talking about flirting–”

“I have a point. What do you taste?”

He meant to say, ‘My mouth.’ What came out was, “Cinnamon and icing.”

He heard you smile. “Good. Open your eyes.”

He did, blinking at the light. You were back to looking out the window; the scene had not changed.

You nodded towards it. “Now, look and tell me what you see.”

He looked between you and the window. “A tree,” he said. “And people.”

“Look at the tree, first.”

The tree itself was, by his estimation, the same sort of tree that could be found just about anywhere in this part of town. There were fewer as the years went on, he knew– there was some government initiative to get rid of the trees on the side streets– but the tree itself was unextraordinary. “It’s dead,” he noted.

Your eyes didn’t leave the window. “It’s overcast.” You sounded a million miles away. “The light from the sun is hitting it from the other side, so the side that we’re on is dull and dark. It’s casting a shadow on the table, on your face.”

He looked down at the table. Sure enough, in the low light, cold shadows laid across the table like faint veins.

“The people,” you continued. “What do you see in them?”

He shifted his attention to the passersby. “People going to work.”

“How are they dressed?”

“Warmly.”

“What color are their clothes?”

“Dark. Are we at the point yet?”

“Almost.” You took a breath of your own. “Now, take all of those things together, and look back out the window again.”

He did.

Nothing had changed. His heart caught in his throat.

“It’s more now, isn’t it?”

He looked back at you.

You witnessed that mundane scene with the seeming awe of an acolyte before their god. It was as though you had never seen a street or a tree or the sun before, as though you would never see it again.

With a horrifying ache in his chest, he realized that he had never seen anything quite so beautiful or enviable as you in that moment. “So,” he asked again, voice tinged with an entirely unbecoming and uncharacteristic reverence, “what are you looking at?”

“I’m not looking at anything,” you replied. “I just remembered how lucky I am to be alive, here, with you.”

He wondered if you would mourn for his indifference like he would.

[taylor-swift-bracket]

Battle of the Bridges!

Dear Reader

So I wander through these nights

I prefer hiding in plain sight

My fourth drink in my hand

These desperate prayers of a cursed man

Spilling out to you for free

But darling, darling, please

You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking

If you knew where I was walking

To a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there

Where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care

No one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire

Hits Different

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat

Cursed the space that I needed

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense

Why the wound is still bleedin'

You were the one that I loved

Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough

A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes

This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy

Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once believed in me

And I felt you and I held you for a while

Bet I could still melt your world

Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

You’re Losing Me

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

🌁Please reblog!🌁

[thenightfolknetwork]

I study maths at uni, and you would be surprised at how often all the arcane-looking symbols mathematicians manipulate cross into being actually arcane (in a thaumaturgically potent sense). It’s an absolute pain if you, like me, are from a genus with… shall we say intense thaumaturgic sensitivities. 

Things have been coming to a head with the graph theory class I’m taking this term. I absolutely love graph theory, in fact I want to do my thesis research in it someday, but my allergies have been getting so bad that I’ve been considering abandoning the field entirely. 

See, graphs, the formal mathematical sense, are objects  consisting of verticies connected by edges. These can be visualised by drawing a bunch of dots (representing the verticies) connected by lines (representing the edges). Many common shapes and symbols are visualisations of graphs! Take, for instance, the complete graph on five vertices (K5 for short). To visualise K5 you can draw your five dots equally spaced in a circle, draw a straight line between each pair of these dots, and… arrive at a little known symbol called a pentagram. 

Which is exactly what I did when working on a homework problem a couple of weeks ago. I was so focused on the maths I didn’t even realise what I had drawn until my hand started smouldering. I managed to put out the blaze, but not before my work was burnt to a crisp. I was working on the assignment the night before it was due- I know, I know- so I didn’t have time to rewrite it. Needless to say, my professor was not particularly interested in marking the pile of ash I turned in, and I was curtly informed that “I’m allergic to my homework” is not a valid excuse for failing to turn in legible coursework. 

I’m at an impasse. K5 is an extremely mathematically important graph- it’s the smallest complete graph that’s not planar. That is, you can rigorously prove it’s impossible to draw K5 without your edge lines intersecting, even if you are allowed to curve the lines however you want as long as you don’t lift your pencil. This results in K5 having some rather interesting pathological behaviour that makes it an important counterexample in many graph theory proofs …but I digress. Point is, that (quite literally) infernal K5 graph is ubiquitous in graph theory, and it’s far from the only thaumaturgically reactive symbol in the field. I’ve had some other near misses - once I even started to spark during lecture, though no fire broke out that time thankfully. The professor is getting increasingly impatient with me and has given me an ultimatum: get my thaumaturgic allergies under control or drop out of the course. I don’t know what to do. Please help. 

[OOC: thanks for bearing with the long mathematical infodump- I love your podcast, the premise leaves so much room for creativity and I have many thoughts about how the canon might tie into my favorite subject. It is true that mathematics historically could get weirdly occult-adjacent. In particular the pentagram, in addition to having interesting mathematical properties, was also the symbol of the delightfully bizarre secretive math cult founded by the Greek scholar Pythagoras- as in the Pythagorean theorem guy. I think in the MA universe there was definitely something liminal going on with the man. Also, for a proof that K5 is not planar- along with other graphs with certain properties- here’s a really cool open source resource! I do love graph theory a lot- this result in particular is really fun to play around with https://discrete.openmathbooks.org/more/mdm/sec_planar.html)]

First things first, reader – thank you so much for bringing me a question that reminds me how much I still have to learn about the world. I admit, mathematics has never been my strong suit, but I've always thought it was a fascinating field of study. Your letter makes me want to learn more!

Fortunately, your particular predicament is rather easier to solve than untangling the mathematical mysteries of the universe. You can deal with your thaumaturgic allergy on two fronts – both by treating the allergy itself, and by securing some additional support from your university.

For the allergy itself, it may seem obvious but have you tried taking an antihistamine before you start your homework? Thaumaturgic allergies function the same as any other allergic reaction, even if the physical response from your body is rather… different.

If over-the-counter antihistamines aren't effective, make an appointment with your GP. Depending on the severity of the allergy, they'll be able to explore treatment options with you or refer you to a specialist. This may include other medication or perhaps desensitisation therapy, where you will be exposed to gradually increasing levels of magic to build up your thaumaturgic tolerance.

As an aside, I must urge you never to attempt such desensitisation on your own. Quite apart from the health risk this poses to yourself, there is also the combustible nature of your allergy to take into account. Besides which, paying a magical practitioner to do random spells in your vicinity in the hopes of prompting a reaction strikes me as an especially dangerous way to waste one's money.

While you're pursuing the medical side of your issue, I encourage you to seek out proper support from your university. I'm pleased to say that your lecturer is thoroughly in the wrong here – being allergic to your homework absolutely counts as grounds for reasonable adjustments, including an extension on your missed deadline.

Your university should have a system in place for supporting students with disabilities and other additional needs. Get in touch with them at the earliest opportunity to talk through the options available for you. At the very least, they should be able to provide you with some thaumaturgically non-reactive writing materials with which to do your work.

Finally, a word of reassurance. Allergies can be extremely frustrating, and even frightening, especially when they aren't taken seriously by the people around you. But there are plenty of treatments available and I see no reason why this should get in the way of your chosen career. And if you do happen to make any breakthroughs in the wonderful world of mathematics, I'd love to hear – even if I might not quite be able to follow!

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[foreignswaggersession]

Thank you for your IWTV posts and clearing up misconceptions. Tbh I wouldn't be so annoyed if people weren't constantly determined to do as many bad faith readings as possible when it came to Louis and Armand's relationship. Like of course it was a very flawed and very complicated relationship, we know this! But it's so obvious when a fan is making a post about how it was "completely loveless and devoid of sexual intimacy" solely so their own otp could look better. So many examples that others have already pointed out, including that one take about Louis disliking the first TVD performance, so this means that he hates theater in general and prefers Lestat over Armand (excuse me, what?)

Also more than one person trying to say how loumand had more PDA and not just for Daniel in the Dubai interview. But that this meant "every affectionate gesture between them to ever happen including Paris was just for performance" and was not truly genuine compared to what was with Lestat? Um no shit, Louis and Lestat had more of their love scenes behind closed doors. But also consider the context with how things were in NOLA and Louis having to pose as another person (brother, business partner, etc) because of rumors surrounding him and his lover. How due to racial discrimination he couldn't even get into an opera house without playing Lestat's servant. Then skip forward to the 1940s when he believed he can actually be comfortable doing this openly "Paris was a formative sexual liberation", with him having those casual relationships with other men while cruising. To kissing and being affectionate with Armand in public and not give a damn who is watching or if he's being heckled for it. This isn't even trying to reduce Louis' previous relationships either or say they're less important, more that Louis' comfort with how he expressed his own sexuality and romantic gestures developed over time.

As for Dreamstat... guys he's an extension of Louis' inner thoughts (a complex mixture of emotions before Louis was ready to enter a new relationship), but he wasn't present during loumand sex scenes either... and Louis certainly wasn't having sex with Armand just for Dreamstat to watch??

Despite already knowing what's "endgame" some people still can't allow even a single moment of love, attraction and vulnerability between loumand to just exist without twisting it into something else, or making it actually about Lestat or Daniel while propping up their preferred pairing. good lord, I'm tired of this.

🥰thanks anon! i'm not as familiar with tv fandom so maybe i'm not understanding why people are so resistant to acknowledging louis's attraction to armand (even pre-claudia's murder) when they were together in canon. like in both the show and the book (and not in a future book, devil's minion stans). since when are people not allowed to enjoy different relationships at different times? i think it's silly to ignore or misrepresent whole sections of the plot just to feel like your favorite ship is the more romantic(?) or healthier (😂) ship, i guess? but yeah, recognizing any romance or attraction between louis and armand (especially from louis towards armand) makes some people angry, as though it undermines armand's abuse or any future relationship either party will have.

not much to add to what you said - the majority of fans only care about louis to the extent he cares about lestat, so they focus on dreamstat/lestat scenes in s2 and ignore the many scenes without him. then there are fans that can't let go of their s1 headcanons that conflict with new information from s2 (louis tops sometimes. it's just a fact now. please stop being weird about it.) i also hate the refusal to engage with louis's repeated statements about his changing relationship to his sexuality over time. his sexual preferences are not stuck in 1910, and i don't agree with pathologizing louis topping or having sex with men besides lestat (if you're not into it, just say that, but don't act like there's no evidence for louis enjoying a different sex life in the show).

i'm not a solo shipper and i love thinking about louis so it's not hard for me to imagine louis in multiple relationships (and in various positions 🥵), and lucky for me i get to see that on screen! cause that's what the show is about actually! louis! the titular vampire.

[hellisanhonourstudent]

Dr. Chase,the physician from The Land Down Under

In the Season 8 episode "Dead and Buried",Chase appeared in a TV show playing a stereotypically Australian doctor on some skit(there was no Watsonian explanation given for this,I love how bonkers House MD can be). Despite the embarassment when House and Taub found the video,Chase's "first and big role" was massively beneficial to him.

It started on early clinic duty,due to a mistake. Chase was approached by some random teenager who saw him online. She was wondering why the actor was dressed like a doctor in a hospital waiting room;

In response,Chase claimed to be an aspiring actor wanting to make it in show business. He donned a fake but convincing American accent and a beautiful smile. The girl,now smitten by the not-so-fake doctor,asked to take a selfie with him;

The other professional at the scene were fuming and confused at the same time. Chase was hidden in plain sight,there was no way to convince the other patients the guy was an actual doctor;

The way out of clinic duty was discovered,and Chase was over the moon. He looked up the girl's social media,lo and behold,she not only posted the pic with him but also said she wanted to see more of him;

Chase created social media profiles for his character,totally separated from his professional/personal ones(that were very low-key and private,especially after the nude pic fiasco. As for professional fame,Chase didn't need more than he had - Princeton-Plainsboro was cozy and high-stakes enough). The character was named Robert Chase as well. Between the fact that his name was already common and the fact that "Doc from Down Under" had way more fame than "Head of Diagnostics/House's Successor",it would make him being hard to found out with search mechanisms(this particular tactic made Robert love the fact that the surname Červený was far too complicated for the immigration officers that recieved his father in Australia. Robert Chase vs Robert Červený says it all). To top it all,the real "Dr. Robert Chase" might look like an elaborate goof;

Now,onto how Dr. Chase would be able to keep the facade and his medical career. His main method of testing the candidates to Diagnostics Fellows is to have them pretend to be R. Chase - regardless of gender,race or any characteristics. Of course,he's keeping tabs on both the new doctors and patients - same doctors see the same patients. It has a double usefulness - the candidates have to be skilled with deceit and quick on their feet while able to be coordinated by Chase himself;

When it comes to the cases themselves,Chase goes see the patients sometimes,but always in a disguise(glasses,a thick beard,make up to look 10 years older and a British accent(canon have him an American accent for no reason,so let me make Chase a fake Brit!);

Oftentimes,Chase is seen making videos of the Doctor. After a while,his videos had extremely simplified explanations of complicated diseases. The simplifications were done by someone who deeply understood the pathologies,anyone with medical knowledge would see it. The cherry of the cake was when American Accent Chase played the dumb person who needed said explanations(but still struggled to understand them). His underlings found it annoying but overlooked it,because Chase was generally competent and nice overall;

Last but not least - Chase got away with all that BS because competence levels and he was fucking his boss. Foreman is just as batshit,he's classy about it tho.

Just gimme Chase being just as chaotic as House,but in different ways,please!

[slightlysadfilter]

So Saltburn: a story of obsession and control

Warning: spoilers ahead

You bet I'm gonna dissect this mfing movie. It left me scarred at 3 am on a workday so here I am, giving my own personal interpretation. Enjoy!

So as I've anticipated, I think the entirety of the movie is a battle between obsession and control. Specifically, Oliver's need to control everything and anyone, and his very clear obsession with Felix. But how does it unfold? And are the two conciliatory, or is Oliver a walking oxymoron? Why does he fuck a grave? We'll get to that.

Part I: Obsession.

We know nothing of Oliver's past. We come to know, very shockingly, that he has a peaceful-looking family, in an alright neighbourhood. The only hint we might've been given about his past behaviour is how his mother immediately tries to soothe the situation when he refuses lunch and wants to leave. But still, too little, so for the purpose of this dissection, Oliver starts with Oxford.

I believe that, at the beginning of the movie, Oliver is more inclined towards obsession. He picks his god (Felix) and yearns to please him. Still, we also notice his need to control very early (actually we do at the end, but yk, early). The control aspect is apparent in his manipulations, this new reality he carefully crafts, but all of it is to appeal to Felix. "He's a scholarship guy who buys clothes from Oxfam", he clearly doesn't want to be that. He doesn't want to be part of the equation-spurting loner group, to be a kid from a boringly simple family and a modest, row-house neighbourhood.

He needs to appeal to Felix, so he takes control of everything. Here, obsession and control go hand in hand. The only reason Oliver is doing what he's doing, is to feel seen by his god. To seat at the "olympus" table with all the trendy, rich kids and their godly-like aura. He threads slowly at first: he knows he can't become them, so he plays the poor-guy part. Crappy family, no money, but still so, so generous and ready to listen. His god is surely pleased; not only that, Felix feels protective of him. He's gained a spot in paradise, albeit due to someone else. Then he makes a mistake, he gets too comfortable and lets too much of his desire of perfection slip. Felix gets annoyed and he's kicked out of heaven. Therefore, more manipulation, more offerings: oh no my dad is dead. Please Felix notice me again, make my tragic story part of your entertainment, let me in again to delight you further.

And so he does.

Part II: Control.

It is a gradual event, control eclipsing Oliver's obsession. For a while, the two co-exist almost equally.

It is very subtle at first. He appears shy, but he's not: I reckon runny eggs don't really make him sick. But he gets to order someone around and he surely takes the chance. For the first time, the reality he's crafted doesn't only need to appease a "superior being" but also, himself.

Then, we have Venetia. It's the first time we clearly see what a little of control does to him, his first true sliding through the cracks of Saltburn like termites. Control is a high for Oliver, fusing with arousal. He likes telling her what to do, to share his excitement and make her do his bidding with it. And still, he is entertaining someone: he's the guy who doesn't cower around period blood and actually plays with it. He's stepped up, but he's still surrounded by higher beings.

Of course, we can also see how obsession remains in how he, uhm, slurps some delicious bathwater and also readily denies having anything to do with Venetia. Felix is still his god after all, and the fake reality exists to appease him. Not Venetia. She gets thrown to the side.

Then, Farleigh, who is actively trying to sabotage him. He wants him gone, he looks down on him, he likes to remind Oliver just how ephemeral he is at Saltburn. They already had moments of tension at Oxford, but now it's pathological: Farleigh is a risk of getting kicked out again. And so again, Oliver deals with it through arousal. Being able to bend him to his will is exciting, control is exciting. He's getting a better taste.

Then, the tragedy. Felix finds out about all the lies. Oliver's god is enraged, outraged. He's still in paradise, but on borrowed time and clearly unwanted. But the worst of it all: Oliver's object of obsession can never, ever accept his offerings again. His entertainment. Though he tries to salvage it, it's gone, the sparkle; and he's been getting skilled at control. So the night of the party, last night in heaven, he kills his god. If he can't please him, he'll conquer him. If he can't obsess over him, he'll take his place. (the symbolism is also very strong in this one!!! Felix having wings, and Oliver antlers to represent horns, or perhaps just earthly beings.)

So why does he fuck a grave? Quite simply, in my humble opinion, he's weeping the death of his god and getting aroused by his conquest at the same time. That's what I mean when I say he's a paradoxical character, and the conflicting nature of him is more prominent in this scene than in any other.

Now that Felix is gone, the road is easy. He's taken one of the highest spots and he wants more. Farleigh? Gone. Venetia? Disposed of. The plan halts upon the father's ultimatum (who, though apparently soft, is still head of this paradise) but when he dies, it is back in motion. The mother is too trusting, too desperate for a friendly face. Oliver is now the one with power over her, it's so easy to kick her out. Her slow assassination is partially merciful, partially ecstatic for Oliver, once again. But he's won, he has complete control (and so, he thankfully doesn't fuck her comatose body.)

His crafted reality is now real. He does not only belong to paradise, he runs it. He has become the god he's killed, and his last funky dance shows how control has definitely taken over obsession. No need for that, he sits at the top.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

eleven weeks down, four to go… i am Really Feeling It ngl… but we are in fact in the home stretch and i will in fact make it through and then i will take twelve days allll the way off and it will rule. december historically has involved a pretty rapid winnowing of my schedule but this year i have a bunch of lil perfectionists who have pushed their test dates to right before winter break, including one who is switching to twice a week for this month -__- also not sure what’s going to be happening with my two high schoolers, one of whom will nearly definitely be retesting and the other of whom may or may not be…. but on the bright side the kid who truly nailed it is in fact no longer retaking (or pooooossibly retaking with minimal additional prep) because of other advice they’ve received. lol. (the mom asked me about my experience with retakes for kids in his position and i was like “tbh i’ve literally never had a kid do this well and choose to retake” and she thanked me for my “unimpeachable integrity” which was very sweet lol.)

this week i came in at just under 37 hours, which was more than i planned largely because today i was between locations for a while and just chilled and hung out with a practice test. i’m not sure how i feel about 35 hours as a more long term goal (it feels like it shouldn’t be an amount that makes it feel hard to do anything else, but that is how i felt this week…), which is a thing i’m contemplating because of various goals i have relating to continuing to digitize everything and making more short drill sets because i have a pathology about feeling like if i can imagine that something would be helpful to students i feel bad not doing it, but i feel like it feels doable for these four weeks where i don’t have a ton of mental energy anyway, and where also i’m now close enough to the end that i can actually wrap my brain around, like, ok, 3 more upper level tests, 3 more lower level, 3.5 more ACTs, such and such number of workbook pages/chapters…. etc. but i’m gonna try again not to stress out about it in general but especially this week because (1) i don’t have big thanksgiving plans but i do have family plans and i do want to at least spend the day relaxing and (2) i do in fact have another cold i am hoping to rest off in the next day or so. the last one retreated to just some post nasal drip very quickly!!!

i got four workouts in this week (+ my Steps) largely because i was so sore i needed an extra rest day and after actually SLEEPING OKAY last night i woke up the day after a pretty tough full body workout with minimal soreness! further data points re cottage cheese snooze helper. very upset that i likely need to wait on gathering more data because i am prooobably not going to be up to HIIT day tomorrow (although thus far this cold, like its predecessor, is Quite Mild, knock wood…). i am downing zinc and emergen-c as permitted and in accordance with my cold rituals which i think are scientifically valid because even if the concoctions are fake science the placebo effect is very well attested to in the literature. (do you know about zinc in the early stages of a cold to make it less bad? i got this tip from a first grade teacher i associate taught for and i swear it works. if you know science explaining it doesn’t please do NOT tell me and let my immune system continue reaping the benefits of my delusion this is the one thing on which i do NOT wish to be fact checked 🙏🏼)

today i woke up, did work, tutored, did more work chilling in a salad place, got dinner at a french restaurant with v. good salmon (i say like i know anything about fine dining beyond “i like salmon”), agreed to a reschedule of the sunday night zoom session, & watched the first half of gladiator because i’ve seen approximately 700 people on the internet this week say something to the effect of “gladiator ii really makes you appreciate russell crowe” (he is so far great as promised playing a guy literally named Best Guy). one month left! technically less! i will in fact have a day off this week although i will also need to spend some of it working a bit! onwards! (to bed)

[number-onekidqueen]

Please do a Children of Hermes headcanon when you feel like it! Your Apollo one was really unique for sure!

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Fast talkers

Great poker faces, you know how to play cards

Knows all the drama whether you want to or not

Really inclusive people

Lots of empathy and acceptance. If someone has something they feel like most people will judge and reject, chances are you guys won't

Plus, you're used to so many people and such different things, chances are you won't be surprised

People-skills, but borderline manipulative

Like yes, you can make people feel worthy and nice, but you can also sweet-talk your way into getting pretty much anything

At the same time though, pathological people pleasers

You want to keep everyone happy, you want to make everyone feel accepted, you want to make sure that everyone is excited and comfortable and enjoying themselves

And also at the same time, possibly pathological liars

Or just very good ones. It's as easy as breathing

Despite that however, the truth and honesty is important to you guys. You hate fake people, and you want to know how people really feel or what's really real, not some fabrication

Connects most with the funny side characters that actually are lowkey struggling under their facade

Spontaneous, always down for a new adventure

Really curious too. You'll be the ones to suggest trying something new on the menu, or going to a new cafe

Dimples when they smile probably

Great athletes, especially fast runners

Probably the most diverse set of kids because as Hermes is so acceptingly eclectic, he doesn't really have a type and goes around everywhere....

Got in trouble when they were kids (even if they were innocent), because they just have that wild, troublesome spark about them

If you get them angry, watch out, because best believe they have an intricate plan to your downfall? Is it super violent? Maybe not, but trust me when I say you will suffer

Have good travel discounts, Ubers, deals, flights they have everything

Words of affirmation is your love language. You guys need to communicate and can't function when everyone's feelings are all cloudy and you're not sure how people feel about you

Probably have a list of roasts and pick up lines just in case-

Can communicate with sheep as a little shepherd's blessing

You like shoes and probably have good-branded ones

Subjects such as economics, commerce or finance you enjoy

Playing the harp is another little blessing you have

Good secret keepers

Stealthy

Persuasive, like you guys can go far in advertising and communications

A bit of an ego, but definitely some insecurities too

Loneliness is something they deal with. They like having a group, and fitting in and laughing along withe everyone, and if people aren't connecting or they're on their own a lot, chances are they'll suffer a bit

[gloriousmonsters]

please recommend me horror vidya games

a quick list of ones I've enjoyed recently that I can remember!

Knock-knock. Made by the same people who made Pathologic, it centers on the Lodger, a weirdo who lives alone in the woods and does their best to maintain their house and record the world around them. But things are changing and going missing, nights begin to blur together, and it quickly becomes difficult to distinguish reality from nightmares. Excellent to play in a dimly lit room and give yourself anxiety, great 'woods creeping in' horror vibes.

SHUT IN is an excellent dark comedy/horror game exploring depression through a lens of 'there is something horribly wrong with your house that is really obstructing your quest to get some fresh air, also the narrator's an asshole'.

Endacopia is only a demo (though it looks like it got funded on Kickstarter, so fingers crossed we'll see more of it!) but I have to put it on here because I just find it so compelling. Guide a weird little kid in an exploration of his confusing, often hostile environment, with a aesthetic inspired by PC edutainment games.

Growing My Grandpa! (with a shoutout to the other games by this developer, Discover My Body and Water Womb World). A lonely little girl discovers the remnants of a bizarre experiment in her basement, and uses the dubious knowledge she gains to try and resurrect her dead grandpa, through... growing him out of black sludge in a burlap sack. Creepy with the potential to be kind of sweet, in a messed up way.

House. Described on Steam as 'survive the night in a house that's trying to kill you and your family' and yep, that about sums it up. Freaky and hits some good timeloop notes for me.

Mistrick is a tiny little RPG with Witch's House vibes, about a guy who gets out of prison and immediately gets hit by a car, and finds himself trapped in a fantastical pocket dimension with his previously-executed cellmate; he has a slim chance to return to life, and has to work for it while avoiding all the hilariously stupid ways to die. This one's more about the fun environment and extremely enjoyable dynamic between the dudes, but hey, Still Technically Horror.

Don't Toy With Me is a visual novel where you play the observing master of a dollhouse where a china doll named Dahlia lives alone (except for a silent stuffed rabbit). One day, you introduce a new doll to the closed environment. Cue slow burn, uncomfortable horrordrama, doll body horror, etc. Good if you just want a really upsetting time and some pretty art.

And this isn't recent and I feel like I've talked about it before lol, but *meme post voice* have you played the Strange Men series? you should play the Strange Men series. when will you play the Strange Men series

[your-queer-dad]

Hi dad,

Today I had a panic attack.

I was overwhelmed, because my mom so sick, my migraines and dizziness and other stuff have been getting worse, algebra 2 is overwhelming sometimes, and I just feel drained because of it.

I didn’t lash out or anything, but I kinda just cried quietly and tried to eat dinner. I ate half of it, which was hard, but I threw the rest away.

I wanted to sh so bad, and the urges have been getting worse.

I’ve been finding new coping mechanisms, so that’s good, and they’ve been working.

I was able to lock myself in the bathroom and calm down, but I kinda just feel drained and somehow still anxious from it. I don’t know what to do. I have an awesome mom and older sister I can talk to, but it’s really hard to talk about stuff sometimes, and I really don’t want to bother anyone. I’m in therapy and on meds, but it’s just so hard sometimes, and everything just feels like to much sometimes. And I always feel like I’m faking it. Like my stimming is fakes. Like my interests are fake. Like my emotions are fake. Like my whole sense of self is fake. And like, I know it’s not true. I know I am autistic (diagnosed when I was 8), I know I’m passionate about infectious pathology, I know I feel stuff, I know I’m a guy, and that living as a girl was hell for me, but my emotions always feel fake and distant and numb, and I always doubt myself. I need to cry a lot, like breakdown and sob and scream, but I can’t, and it just feels so frustrating.

And I’ve just been having so many memories come up from my childhood, and it just makes me so sad.

I had a dream last night that I was shopping with my cousin (who helped me through a lot, and was my best friend during tough situations. I haven’t seen her in 5 years), and I just miss her so much. It made me so sad and happy at the same time, and I just wish I could see her again.

I miss my older brother (I haven’t seen him in 5 years either), and I just want to make sure he’s ok, and give him a hug.

I keep getting random memories of an old neighbor we used to live by, who was so seeet and kind. We trusted him a lot, and played in his backyard and porch area frequently. He always had those little popsicles that are in the plastic tube thingy, and he always gave me the blue ones cause he knew they were my favorite. And though we haven’t seen him in years (we moved a lot), I miss him, and hope he’s doing ok.

I always want to help out more, and feel like I’m not doing enough. I just want to be more useful and see people smile. I like being helpful, and it hurts when I can’t do something on my own.

I feel stupid and lazy all the time. I suck at math, and can’t focus. It’s just so hard to focus, and my brain has been fogging more often in the past few years, and I just want to do something right for once.

I don’t know how to tell my mom about this, but I know that I really need to, because I don’t want to relapse again, and I don’t want to scare anyone.

Do you have any advice?

Also, I hope this ask finds you well.

Please make sure to drink some water, eat something, shower/bathe, and get some rest

Thanks for reading this :)

Hey kiddo! That sounds like you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself bud. Im so proud of you for resisting the urge to self harm. I know personally how hard that is but I'm so proud of you. No matter how fake it feels, it isn't. It sounds to me like you're invalidating your own feelings there bud. However you're feeling is true. You aren't stupid or lazy, you have so much going on right now and it's okay to be overwhelmed sometimes. Life is crazy and loud and a whirlwind and calm and warm and painful- it's so many things, it's natural to be overwhelmed by it sometimes. I would really really recommend talking to someone if you feel like you're gonna self harm. It isn't a burden to them, they care about you as much as you care about them.

- dad x

[sol-consort]

I started playing dragon age inquisition (let me know if you want to see a pic of my character because I think she's a cutie) because I started me3 but then I realized that when I finish that one there's no more mass effect (I know there's Andromeda but it's not the same) so I'm trying to long-ify (is that a word?) the process my starting dragon age. Have you played it? If so, who do you think I should romance because I have absolutely no idea who to pick (I'm playing as an elf female).

I related to that feeling a lot, I just reached the near end of Andromeda (finished reforming the last planet) and I closed them game and took a break to play other ones because I don't want it to end just yet :(

I do that a lot in gaming, hell in books, too. Because once it's over, it's really over, and I don't want that to happen yet. It's like saving the last layer of a cake + the strawberry in the fridge to snack on later. It also could be because I rarely, if never, replay games? I remember them too well to be able to enjoy a replay, even when it's been years. When I boot them up again, it's never the same or close to the wonder of the first playthrough because I have all the memories and knowledge. It's like I literally played it yesterday. The only exception is when my savefile corrupts (bc of mods), and I have to restart.

I have the dragon age series, got recommended it a lot during my bg3 blog days, got it on sale, and never opened it...yet. Mass Effect sucked me in before I could explore more DnD themed games. Then, pathologic ran through me like a bullet train, and if I open it now, I'll get sucked into DnD again and forget all about the silly aliens. I have the attention span of a hummingbird, soulcrushingly intense but quickly fleeting.

I have a whole elf human kink series there if you want, with original or vague characters rather than ones from bg3.

but yes, please do show me your character! I love looking at pretty characters.

As for who to romance, I heard there is a bald elf/half elf guy? Avoid him like the plague. The tiktoks I saw haven't painted him in the nicest picture.

I did a quick google search and these three are hot ngl

also THERE HE IS! I found the fucker, it's this guy right here

Don't let his mewing face fool you, he is a radioactive toxic wasteland, or so I heard? Idk people seemed really angry with him in the comment section of his own thirst traps which should say something.

Maybe you can fix him? Maybe he will make you worse? Who knows. For me, I will go with whoever has the biggest hog to cronk, like how our caveman ancestors decided their mate, the way god intended <3

*straps included.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hi! Long time listener, first time caller.

In a previous post you talked about plural people who were accepted for their plurality by families and communities due to spirituality and culture, but not so of DID. I would really love to read about examples of cultures with this attitude of you have any, to compare thoughts and opinions of the multiple self around the world that aren't the Western singletcentric view?

Much love for all you do

!!! YES

Yes yes yes

I love asks, delicious

If you could pass the post along, that would be helpful, the closest post I can remember making is about cultures that use and view dissociation in a positive way

It's not so much that they're plural and accepted, it's that the experience of a more fluid and dynamic sense of self and the experience of possession in spiritual and cultural contexts is accepted and embraced in community healing, rather than shunned and pathologized.

There is not a culture that experiences anything close to what endogenic systems are experiencing-- plurality is a new cultural experience developed using the internet as a form of culture (see Samuel Veissiere's work for a better explanation, here's my post making fun of him). The closest would be mediums, which is another accepted and embraced form of dissociation, but by looking at how, where, and why mediumship is accepted, you can transfer that basic understanding to a wider scale and more innate forms of dissociation. This is largely based in how children are raised and how they're taught to use dissociation in the development of their sense of self as they age.

The problem comes when you try to pathologize those experiences. DID exists cross culturally, yes, that's proven, but at what level distress starts to interfere is a more accurate way to view things. In cultures where possession is an accepted manifestation, distress has a much higher threshold. For example, in cultures in Brazil where possession is accepted, someone could... call out of work to attend ceremonies without fear of losing their job, because their job shares those beliefs and understands. Participation in those ceremonies is more healing to the individual than therapy would be, and expression would be much more florid, because that's just how they do. These experiences of possession also include a lot more causes-- for example, grief over the recent loss of a loved one can result in a florid presentation that is totally normal by cultural standards, but it's not even remotely close to DID-- not in cause, manifestation, biological processes, anything. It's important for clinicians to have a deep understanding of how culture plays into manifestations that would otherwise be pathologized in ANY capacity.

These are a couple starter articles to help give you some terms and concepts to find more! I tried to order them from pathological to anthropological-- so starting with dissociation across cultures, to the development of the sense of self across cultures. Genuinely, this rabbit hole is just never ending, because once you get into the development of sense of self, you get into the way memories are stored across different cultures, which plays into memory recall in DID, and-- stop me, please.

Culture Bound Dissociation: a comparative analysis by Eli Somer (the guy who came up with MADD) is a great start

Culture, trauma and dissociation: A broadening perspective for our field

The Cross-Cultural Assessment of Dissociation

If you can find Trauma and Dissociation in Paradise (Hawaii) I HIGHLY recommend it, and the book it comes from, it was such a good read

“This ‘prison’ where I cannot heal:” Interactions of culture, dissociation, and treatment among individuals who dissociate

Beyond the DSM-5 Diagnoses: A Cross-Cultural Approach to Assessing Trauma Reactions

Culture and the Self: A New Global Perspective

Culture, Method, and the Content of Self-Concepts: Testing Trait, Individual-Self-Primacy, and Cultural Psychology Perspectives

Culture and the Self. Implications for Cognition, Emotion, and Motivation (PDF)

Cultural Orientation of Self-Bias in Perceptual Matching

Cultural and Historical Differences in Concepts of Self and Their Effects on Attitudes Toward Having and Giving

Self and Culture

The Social Self: The Role of the Social Situation

Being oneself through time: Bases of self-continuity across 55 cultures (PDF)

Constructivist Self-Construal: A Cross-Cultural Comparison

Identity Formation across Cultures: The Interaction of Personal, Societal, and Historical Change

Cross-cultural differences in memory specificity

[lavellane]

please tell us more about your second worldstate!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 i'm so intrigued by your ocs and i saw you mentioning playing amell currently

thank u for asking omg !!!! i have 3 worldstates loosely planned out which is a Lot for me since i have a tendency to get deeply (perhaps pathologically) attached to one worldstate and one pc lol. but im being brave abt it !

worldstate 1 is my canon worldstate, and the overarching theme for it is self-mythology/loss of personhood. i wont go into detail since i yap enough abt them already lol but i have elspeth (warrior f!cousland romancing alistair) cillian (a rogue m!hawke romancing anders) and ashara (a mage f!lavellan romancing/redeeming solas) all going into datv head first. my canon datv pc will likely be an elven archer f!rook romancing either davrin or taash hehe <3

second worldstate is all mages and obv thats the main theme i wanna have fun with

lucander amell (he/him, blood mage and spirit healer, romances morrigan) unassuming, distant, and polite and also kind of unnerving. used to being seen as a bad guy and is willing to act accordingly, but otherwise is a pretty decent, honorable man. does morrigan's ritual, kills the archdemon, leaves alistair a grey warden. doesn't become warden commander in awakening bc he goes into hiding from the wardens before they can ask too many questions abt the ritual and why hes still alive. he tracks down morrigan in the hopes of protecting her, and then stays with her and their son after that.

cecilia hawke (she/her, spirit healer mage, romances fenris) a blue!hawke who's sweet and motherly and soft spoken and has an enormous guilt complex/self hate for being a mage lol. carver joins the templars, and she later sides with them in act 3 and kills anders which </3 anyways. she survives here lies the abyss in dai and hopefully goes on to attend biweekly couples therapy with fenris <3

thomasin trevelyan (SOFTEST of launches on that name) (she/her, knight enchanter mage, romances cullen. maybe.) socially adept, politically cunning, with a love for the game and a desire to regain her place within the trevelyan family nobility. sides with the mages, doesn't drink from the well, negotiates a truce between celene/gaspard/briala, pardons the wardens, redeems solas, disbands the inquisition post trespasser. shes a good girl and she's got her head on straight!

might do a qunari f!rook mage to romance taash or davrin for datv! we'll see !

lastly my third worldstate places value on the eluvians so its very elfy or at least elf-adjacent. and also the lineage of ameridan > garahel > maherial and so on. i just think its neat . still VERY much underdeveloped tho so no names yet

f!mahariel, she/her, an archer who romances leliana (prev tamlen :c) who dies killing the archdemon

half elven f!hawke mage, romancing merrill!! she sides with the mages but probably still kills anders :( shaking my head in disgust so u can tell i do not approve of this choice ..........

an m!trevelyan warrior romancing ?????????????? IDK. cass maybe. this is going to be exclusively a 'piss off solas' speedrun so hes siding with the templars, putting gaspard on the throne, doing war crimes, etc. wont be redeeming him i fear </3

i hate to say it. i HATE to say it. but if there's a way for me to make a solasmancing rook for datv i Will find a way in this worldstate for the comedic effect of antagonizing my m!trev. even if its just thru headcanons exclusively lol

[crownmemes]

Castle Sentences, Vol. 7

(Sentences from Castle (2009-2016). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"That's going to leave a nasty scar."

"I admire your loyalty. I hope you feel that for me someday."

"You just want me to take my shirt off again, don't you?"

"As a single man, I appreciated her assets."

"So, there's no one special in your life right now?"

"Is this how you interrogate people? Because you're doing nothing but pissing me off."

"I didn't lie to him. He never asked me about it."

"They say that dogs can smell fear. Did you know that some humans can as well?"

"If it's revenge you wanted, why not just kill me?"

"People think it's killing that I like, but murder's just an act. It's all about the anticipation, the planning."

"Do you remember the first time you handcuffed me?"

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"If I wake up bald tomorrow, will you still be attracted to me?"

"You do realise that this is still a crime scene?"

"She's not an unfriendly person. She's just... Got walls?"

"Solitude's a very important part of my evening ritual."

"What happened to our family tradition?"

"Let's not be one of those sad, desperate holiday hookups."

"Are we really going to play this game where you deny things that you and I both know are true?"

"I'm not meant to be the bad guy in this case! You are!"

"Men are clueless."

"Is this as bad as it seems?"

"You two are great together!"

"All I hear you saying is a whole lot of stuff that you can't prove."

"Sorry I had to cockblock you."

"I'm 18. I don't have to ask for permission anymore."

"Please don't tell my father!"

"A father would do anything for his daughter."

"You really are remarkable, you know that?"

"I guess I was right about you."

"You know who's behind this, don't you?"

"What's the kingmaker to do when the king no longer follows orders?"

"I'm touched by your concern, but I think maybe you forget who you're dealing with."

"I suppose this means I'm in your debt."

"It's a dangerous world out there. You never know when you might need a friend."

"If I said no, would you really believe me?"

"Are you pathologically incapable of telling the truth?"

"It's all happening too fast and too slow at the same time."

"We're going to a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere?"

"Is that holy water? Where did you get that from?"

"Is there not just one tiny part of you that wonders if I'm right?"