#They keep repeating the long form acronym

[baby-octopus]

if I have to hear what HIPAA stands for one more time I am going to SCREAM

[itpemod]

SIGN UP POST

It's late September and that means #ITPE sign-ups are OPEN 🎉🎉🎉 Links will be at the end, so please read through the post as we have a lot of new information/procedures this year!

This is the FOURTEENTH year of the exchange, but the FIRST year we will be hosting it on Tumblr, which was far and away the winner in our platform move survey. Happily, this means we get to keep our acronym and branding!

What is #ITPE?

#ITPE is a low-pressure, no-minimums podfic exchange that originated on Twitter. We are now on Tumblr because of Twitter’s…everything, since it was bought by the Muskrat. Everything–sign-ups, communication, assignment/gift distribution–used to be run entirely on Twitter, but as the exchange has grown, we’ve incorporated other platforms to help make our lives as mods easier. Consequently, sign-ups will be on AO3 and submissions of your finished gifts (when it comes time for them) will be via Google form. Otherwise all communication, including announcements, questions, assignment and gift delivery, will be conducted over Tumblr and instant messaging. 

Who are the mods?

Our mod line-up is @blackestglass (blackglass) & @knight-tracer, with flowersforgraves assisting on the backend with data management. 

What is the schedule?

The dates for #ITPE 2024 are:

Sign-ups: SEPTEMBER 21 - SEPTEMBER 29

Assignments go out: No later than OCTOBER 8

Projects due: DECEMBER 17

Distribution: DECEMBER 24

So long as it's still September 29 somewhere in the world, you can still sign-up.

How do I sign up?

We are continuing to run sign-ups through AO3 (without a nominations process, so just write in your fandoms). We are asking for a minimum of 3 unique fandoms and if you want to sign-up to give or receive more than 20 fandoms, pick your TOP 20 for the AO3 and put the rest in your Dear Podficcer Letter. If you have less than 20 fandoms, we encourage you to list all of your primary and secondary fandoms in the sign up form so we have options for matching!

Note: We consider certain RPF fandoms as “umbrella” fandoms. We know we have K-Pop podficcers and sports RPF podficcers who often sign up for our exchange. Individual K-Pop bands and individual sports/sports teams do not count as “unique” fandoms (so for instance, only listing SHINee, BTS, and A-Teez would not count as having 3 unique fandoms for sign-up purposes; for our purposes, they would all fall under the K-Pop umbrella). In addition to listing your favorite bands/sports/teams in the fandom field, we do ask you to help us out for matching by thinking of at least 2 other fandoms which you might be happy to give and receive in. The RPF podficcing pool is small and we try not to repeat matches within a 5-year period, so giving us more fandom options will help us find you a match. 

What is a Dear Podficcer letter?

Your Dear Podficcer letter should include stuff like squicks, triggers, ship and trope preferences, and anything else you think we & your gift giver should know regarding your fandom tastes. Letters are mandatory. They don't have to be long! But if you have extremely specific tastes, it’s better that you let us know upfront in your letter so that we can ensure that you receive a gift you’re happy with. Please don’t worry about seeming “difficult”! We want you to love the gift you receive! Also, do feel free to request your small, obscure fandoms! Just help us out by also including some more popular or “mainstream” fandoms among your options. 

If you’re still uncertain what a letter should look like, here are some examples from 2020: blackglass’s 2020 letter & knight_tracer’s 2020 letter. You can also check out linked letters in the “Requests Summary” on AO3 to see what other people’s letters look like!  

Letters should be hosted on a publicly viewable platform, such as on Dreamwidth, tumblr, carrd, GDrive, Dropbox, etc. 

Please put your Tumblr and AO3 handles (if they don’t already match) in your Dear Podficcer letter. For our sake, ideally somewhere in the title field. Toss a coin to your mod team. 

Also please be kind to your mods & avoid using smushnames or cute fandom ship names in your letter. We're not always in your fandom & sometimes people will use different names to refer to the same pairing & we mistakenly believe you're requesting different pairings (see: the Zimbits/JackBitty/etc. debacle of 2020). Using Char A/Char B(/Char C) would help us out a lot! You don't have to use AO3 levels of disambiguation – just provide us with enough information to figure out who the characters involved in the ship are. 

If you have specific tastes in what you want to RECEIVE in a fandom, but you’re willing to CREATE outside of those preferences (for instance, wanting to receive podfic about a specific pairing, but willing to podfic for other pairings in a fandom), please indicate that in your letter! If you want to offer or receive fandoms that aren’t currently on the AO3, or you’re one of those gutsy people that is willing to offer and create in “any fandom”, message this account and we’ll make sure it’s all recorded. 

In addition, if you’re an adventurous listener who is open to RECEIVING podfic for “any fandom” please ALSO message us so that we’re aware! We still need a minimum of 3 fandoms for your sign up so that it can go through.

If you have any DNWs (“do not wants”)  that you don’t want to post publicly in a letter, concerns about matching, or anything else you’d like to privately let the mods know, there’s a section in the sign up this year that you can fill out. Or you can send us a message!

How should we be communicating with you over Tumblr? We will primarily be using the instant messaging function. Therefore you will need a Tumblr account to sign up, because that’s where all communication and assignment/gift delivery will take place. It’s totally fine to use a placeholder account you only use for this exchange. (We do recommend adding a userpic, filling out your bio, and maybe reblogging a few posts so that you don’t seem like a bot.) All participants should be following the mod account, especially if you have restricted settings so that only people you follow can message you. The instant messaging system, unlike the ask system, allows us to maintain a record of our communications, and is the best way to share information you want to keep private between us or have extended conversations. You may use asks if you have a one-off question or questions you don’t mind getting public answers to. 

(Notifications for new Tumblr messages can be finicky so try to check out the messaging tab semi-regularly throughout the duration of the exchange instead of relying on the blue dot to let you know there’s a new message.) 

In an attempt to avoid tripping spam filters and hitting the Tumblr limit on sending messages to new people, we are asking you to help us out by sending us an instant message to let us know you’ve signed up, rather than us trying to reach out to dozens upon dozens of people (prime spambot behavior)! 

What happens if you get marked as spam?

If we get shadowbanned/tossed in potential spambot purgatory, the mods will reach out to you from our personal accounts/mod sideblogs or via email. During the sign up period, we will reach out to you via messaging to ask you for a reliable email address to reach you at in case all of our attempts to not get flagged as spam fail.

If we are marked as spam, we’ll still be able to post on our own blog and we should still appear on your dash, but we won’t be appearing in the tags most likely, which is another reason why it’s important for you to be following us!

How does matching work? How will I get my assignment?

The mods do hand-matching, meaning rather than just letting the AO3 algorithm run and make arbitrary matches based on fandom, we read all your letters and try to match you with someone with similar tastes and interests. We’ll only be relying on the AO3 algorithm to help us spot tricky matches. 

Another of the ways Tumblr combats spam is to shadowban anyone sending multiple similarly worded messages. We’re going to make an attempt to deliver extremely pared down assignment messages so that we’re mostly sending unique information. If we do get marked as spam, as mentioned earlier, we may reach out to you on sideblogs or via email. 

What kind and how many gifts should I make? Do you really mean “no minimums”? 

Yes, ITPE gifts have NO LENGTH MINIMUMS. Make something as big or as small as you want to commit to! We truly do mean it. This is meant to be a low pressure exchange! Accordingly, please set your expectations that you may receive a short gift. In the past, we have had participants who’ve been extremely generous and made a prolific amount of gifts for their giftee, but they are outliers and there is certainly no expectation that anyone else should strive to those heights. 

I have more questions about making gifts!

We’re sure you do, but we’re not there yet! We will update this FAQ with more information about submitting gifts and treats once assignments go out, so check back!

I’m ready to sign up! What are the next steps? 1. Fill out the sign up form on AO3 here.

2. Follow us @itpemod if you haven’t yet!

3. Send us a message over the chat letting us know you’ve signed up!

4. Optional (but encouraged if you want to talk to people!): join the Tumblr Podfic Community to participate in the friending/following meme!

5. Optional: Track/follow the #itpe or #informal tumblr podfic exchange tags! 

[toinfinitywinning]

this is get to know you time. the cringy name game at every camp in the world you do with toilet paper. enough.

Conversations and thoughts resembling the same level of random and incongruence of my Apple Music library. like Josh Groban is to Eminem: Mercy Me. a lot about everything that’s not a hashtag bc it just needs more attention.

Let the first (post) be first:

Hi. I’ve never done this before (like a seriously grown up blog on purpose. Just when just followed sad somewhat desperate poetry with a random live-laugh-love meme in there somewhere.) and Pitch Perfect.

BUT.

For 2 years I’ve had Long-Haul COVID. It’s a different kind of lonely

Thanks so much, amirite? —Gen-Z apologies if I didn’t use that jumbled acronym-word correctly.

It’s hard to keep up.

See? What am I talking about now and how did I get there…

Due to a very common symptom of LHC…

Again—hard to keep up. It’s there. Tho

And I have a lot of quirk so it’s possible I think you’ll “get” but are just nice not to tell me

BUT.

It’s already gone. Train left the Station yesterday.

Slipped on a penny.

Not Good. not even funny.

Teens with the gorgeous graffiti have to Go elsewhere. I’ve always been jealous of that kind talent.

Whole lot better than something else shiny thrown on the track and it’s derailed. There’s at least some innocence in a paint can.

WOW.

I have major attention and Brain Fog hurdles to conquer or shortly bypass. You might not be able to tell b/c of how My writing jumps around so infrequently.

Not true but still easier.

Mostly innocent and playful.

Sadly the attention part is this many years young.

Writing comes naturally. As it always has, strangely...

And why is healing so exhausting? Writing is therapeutic but My body says—can you not?

i know im not the only one asking that!

As if I have time for that too.

find a community of people suffering just as similarly and gain strength, tips and tricks.

Just, speak-screen edit my writing for me. Maybe a clarification fact-✔.

Just not wherever Tr*mp gets his.

Could be Truth Social. Monthly fee tho will cost you your Red Hat.

MYGAbad

Speaking I struggle with processing w/e skills I must have held onto.

BUT.

Since 2 years is quite. some. time.—I’ve shared many struggles and victories.

Like a Bell curve. Or a punk Domino falling then lining them up takes longer just to go down again in half the time. Repeat.

It’s very likely I Will try to talk about many things at once.

I really can’t help that. LOL.

Jury’s still out but I get most of my writing and miscellaneous musings from mom.

Dad can write the best, longest, and precious prayers and notes.

Almost delicately but like you KNOW he’s giving you a hug.

A Good mix tape’s paper Version.

Enter Run on sentences. Truly a stream by now.

Although my brain muscle is weak I’ve been encouraged by several people to Start a blog. Someday I’ll include the past 2 years of w/e pics are on other SocMed.

I can’t think of anything worse.

Yea, okay LOL.

Judgment free. Occasionally… like normal doses then have to work through that.

Mostly that’s because I knew nothing about anything before I opened My computer and started sharing My thoughts under zero context ridden or form at all.

More likely as well to offend and piss someone off. Well done you’re now one less friend popular. There’s an App for that tho-tracking people Who don’t like you.

Not sure where I’ll land with this. It may not land you either.

Because like a lot of us. Sometimes you don’t get to talk actually. No Room.

I like routine; that’s out. So it gets dull.

I’ve learned I hadn’t yet given myself the space to see all of things I can do sitting down.

But. By “given” I mean to say that perhaps I didn’t know it was there.

One Good thing I’ve gathered from this Hell.

Hell fresh by the Day! Never frozen.

So at that time and in this case of my life; sitting is fine.

Some of it isn’t too bad. The writing. You will find questionable punctuation. Run on sentences that I was running.

Relevance at all.

All around Confusion…altho connect the dots could have been seen as practice.

Or annoying even. I’d have no words.

I truly don’t set out to be funny. I could never do stand-up or improv. Or act.

Humor forced just takes and receives too much energy that might come off insincere.

Nothing on command.

Like Matt Perry’s brilliant improv wit it just doesn’t hit the same.

B/c it was scripted.

A syllabus for it Imagine.

The horn to jump off the swim block.

It’s when Life feels more scripted a lot of people close up.

That’s because you’re not in charge anymore. I’ve lost the Power.

Don’t prefer caring about whether someone likes me like I used to.

I believe you can snooze me for 30 days or say ‘I’m done w/ her’ and send Me to the cyberarchives.

Okay. Okay.

So—90% of the time I’m witty and sarcastic with a bit of cynicism, discomfort (for you), and pettifogging.

I write primarily about the questions of intersectionality.

How do things fit.

Let’s Fit it.

Until I figured out physics and calculus and basic math were behind a career in architecture and the classes I would have to take, I enjoyed taking things apart to make something else.

Not always pretty.

Could be Good what I took apart was the best thing we can’t see.

Like I’m writing questions but with wisdom not meaning to do that either,

A lot of people don’t like that. You do you! Baby.

I don’t mean to be at all harsh or hurtful. I try not to say that anything vainly.

I say it b/c a lot of what I’m writing is all of every piece of stream of consciousness tallied.

And it was a synapse connecting another.

Maybe that’s the creative part? The other side of My Brain is telling Me to ✔ on the other side so I’m like…crickets.

What I write is stream of consciousness, brutally honest and to some might be lightly offensive. In College writing this Way would’ve absolutely driven Me crazy.

Then life steps in and bonks u on the head with a newspaper but 15 years later returns the favor with an iPhone.

Or too blunt. And comes across as harsh. And that’s mostly because if I don’t have an emoji to match my real-life broken ღ I’m breaking up with you.

Self reflection: impulsive

I used to journal so much growing up.

When did I lose that innocence?

We can’t talk about folding paper into cranes and witchcraft finger fortune games anymore?

No more MASH?

Huh, maybe you weren’t born this Way. Ur Parents just drew circles nearest each other or your apple stem twist broke too soon and you want a partner whose name starts with P.

Very often I overshare. If you’re reading this this is not brand new information. No ability to say things simply. Think I’ve already. That can put me really vulnerable to more bitcoin hacks.

And then you need to figure out what bitcoin is. And whether Mario can collect coins as well in place of the hackers.

I’d say ask Tom Brady b/c of his investments but since retirement he’s been pretty deflated.

Mean people that mean to hurt.

First of all I feel sorry for you. Not in a poor you tho.

People Who hurt on purpose don’t often have any Way to vent or get a rise other than evoke feelings in and deflect toward a schoolmate.

Skip back to the part I tried talking about vulnerability. It truly is the invisible cloak and no one can see you but nothing makes sense still and you’ve only fixed what’s on the outside. Now you’re peeved AND cloaked.

At this conjunction junction next I’d suggest try shopping at Target opposed to Abercrombie then.

Feet in the water right above bankruptcy to see how things could be different only what…if?

Good ♧ seriously.

So there’s more grace given when you fall. When it’s not your month Day or even year!

Nobody is there for you!!

And My cloak is getting rained on.

Maybe gathering strength from falling will come a common sense with a 6th one but with seriously meaningful things I’ve learned and less hard knock’s Life for us.

The hard Way.

The bottom��s still there and it actually stinks stinks. Discouraging b/c there are two sides to the bottom of the cave full of stalagTITES and mites.

All the up’s and down’s. Right there. And the COVID-19 bat OMG!

You know you may not be able to fall any further further but once you’re up again you’re wondering whether you should get some cement to close that thing off.

Choose to live! But welcome to the real world—it sucks—ur gonna Love it.

Almost 4got. In the cave you dont always have to wait for Jesus to be resurrected if that metaphor comforts you but if change comes and it requires a whole new worm can of Life we already can’t handle that gets us outta the dank I don’t think we need to ask permission to the rights of that Bible passage.

BUT.

Until YOU are ready for change...

Forget it. At least you meant well. Someone can guide that horse to water but it stays pretty hydrated, so he says he’s Good. Promise. The only talking animal and it was Me Who got to hear it. More importantly, who’s gonna ☊? Care? There’s a country song finding out Who your Friends are. A lot stay lost and it’s not helpful all our Friends aren’t the same.

Missing a Good chance to find out if you’re in a similar predicament and that not always a bad thing.

At times I have literally had to be lifted off the floor.

I don’t do this at all for pity. As you read, My Pride is the biggest obstacle to let Go.

When you do?

The hard way through this.

I am angry and irritable for bouts. Sometimes I’m silly and invite karma punishments.

Go all Brimstone and every type fire and the Old Testament has nothing New-thinking and no one new to add to it. SMH. Nail a list on the wooden church door reading it is nearing endgame. Or, Just open your hotel drawer and tear out the back half.

So change then— If it were Me and it has been just not an actual hole I’d be outta there due to the spiders and crickets alone. Jiminy’s Cool.

If u can’t change and just stay a novice bunny hill—fine! Stay there. Build some confidence through experience.

And isn’t that another thing? Something specific motivates the fire under your (cuckoo!) and before you’d see the dark without any End of the tunnel and more importantly with the light aspect. All the sudden you care b/c what? It applies to you of course be selfish. Fascinating yet humbling.

Then there’s the ‘Why Me’ (?) phase? Not fully pitiful but just pretentious enough to resume the trailblaze. Bad attitude with a healthy dose of are we there yet and trying to Balance whether someone is saying …’they get it; you always feel bad’ so…KY Basketball banter? Ashamed accompanies too bc thing is a few times I did kind of scoff at phrases like I always feel bad. Like, here’s 2 Extra strength Tylenol.Alright, Ok, come test for Covid 1/29/22. It shouldn’t take going through something to empathize with or change but you could’ve listened for longer with a clear mind. Just cannot wrap your head around it and I think sometimes that’s okay. What’s next I’ll try so hard.

+ It’s 12:01am of 1/29/24 (so last night), you still can’t do math and/or struggle to add or subtract 12 so aren’t entirely sure its your sophomore year orientation, and you already surrender to what you didn’t want to get up for in the first place. Kind of silly u set the alarm! B/c Pain, confusion, Discomfort and a Deep loneliness that has very little to do with people awaits. That whole scenario is a disaster but look who’s standing and GOT. UP. period. 15 years ago that’s where I’d be. Just defeated.

THAT. Is enough some days. I say that to you struggling to believe the same but know Deep down.

Year 2 longhaul and youre wondering why there are anniversaries at all given about half are always sad or tragic. Evoking the worst on what could be the best. Might be something To think 2 minutes ago you’d ended your prayer to have a better Day. Of anything is true about everything happens for a reason I’d say having to chooose how to respond given you have the privilege at all to that just means were normal. B/c ill be honest I would not

I’m angry. WHAT is so complicated about your lack of Faith or belief prayer must go into an encrypted iCloud even the FBI can’t retrieve or interpret. Never had a chance! But I’ll add that it’s worth noting prayer doesn’t deal with its existence in transaction currencies..

Feel less Pain but feel more with it or stronger now. Or, just plain ‘ol numb. Similar to Addiction I suppose people get so used to being healthy one Way or another they don’t even notice better OR worse and no one is getting married.

Truth is.

Yea.

I’m in Hell, but I’m not on a ventilator. I’m not without relentless Support.

I still can smile but laugh just a bit before it hurts.

Something is always worse.

SomeONE is doing worse.

Somewhere and definitely rn.

I never knew I’d be dealing greed of perspective for this Long.

Something you’ll never find out about that changed your life’s trajectory where an explanation would have only confused things.

Then we still have the chance to be astonished and then genuine bc of that. Thankful. Expectant. With Faith somehow. Maybe carrying someone else’s Hope for a while might burden you less for a short time.

You dont need to see eye struggle and suffering. You dont need examples. You just know. There’s a fleeting peace u might not see again for 2 days but in knowing it’s not just you with the same bs going on.

Like here. Here is someone who needs support but in a different Way but how unique it could be to trade just for a bit. It’s not leg day this time remember u agreed a temp trade.

We don’t have to know everything. Most of the time I don’t give God the time to keep up w/ Me let alone do anything miraculous before I just hang up.

Although My Life was headed in a completely renewed direction in so many ways of recovery—

I got sick. Not because it was meant to be.

Because COVID. Possibly a rabid bat. Cracked vile or petri-dish

Everything does not happen for a reason and ppl dont like hearing that bc its an easy out. Says time might go on but this thorn wont ever heal. How do we respond? that’s the most authentic and a strength yes or no wand.

I hate cliché. Thing is tho…I think we all hate it b/c it doesn’t hold us accountable. Eh it’s fine.

Unfortunately we wouldn’t have the pretty, surprise, one of the Walk to Remember walks. All up to the of healing and forgiveness individual to each of us.

If for Me that means ive healed all I can and I’m counting on research to help Me out some more maybe I just keep going. Trust Me nothing is forgotten but you do know now that at least you were strong and capable enough to figure all that at all. And—I can do that. Some days aren’t that kind.

Maybe it becomes a goal we never anticipated but ✔ your resilience at the ticket line and saddle up, honey.this donkey only holds ____ lbs. let some things Go. That thing will still only walk in a circle but you’ve evenly distributed your baggage.

The feeling of pure joy. Which btw does still require a thesaurus b/c it is NOT the same as joy. Like a preventative Med to an acute one.

Then feel Accomplishment.

Not knowing what’s next but trying to be prepared.

It’s a surprise party we never RSVP’d and don’t regret it.

And it’s a Good thing u got outbid for that yacht.

Hell, tho, you won’t be forgotten but pushing helps the donkey move faster for now that is acceptable.

Unshun. Reshun. (This will make sense if you Watch the Office)

Flee fly. Be gone. Thankfully we hope to come out more resilient after the rip and tear and often not fully repaired sewing lessons.

But perhaps the biggest trait I’ve had to work on is My Pride. I want to do it.

I’ll give myself 3 strikes. 4 balls.

Then I walk to First.

Please do not get Me a gift.

I Love you and that was so sweet.

Would I be as generous?

Do u work, yea. It’s just one really hurts more and being tough isn’t tough at all if it’s not helping the worst hurt.

Those are sitting down, timeout thoughts.

The compression socks need to breathe.

But once the Pride slides over, let go, I get to know how it feels to very tangibly be taken care of and watched over.

Patience. The other side of a rant.

Later on that.

My main goal is to learn. Connect. Be called out if something comes off really tasteless.

Laugh at things that don’t have anything to do with being chronically sick. Laugh about what Medicine u had to administer and royally failed.

Sometimes all coupled with a handicap car-tag. No crutches either b/c I don’t like hearing I Will get better. It is a nice statement but it is impossible to be sure. Ive struggled with that b/c I know everyone believes that and means well I’ve just taken prior sick Gentry’s generalization and multiplied.

I am not making light. I think part of me is using the sarcasm as a coping mechanism.

Praise God there is something that does help the pain or at least distract from that Pain just not the one in your legs.

A codependency just a bit less severe. Embarrassing. Reason for judgment. Too easy.

If you can believe it—-I am not the same person I was 2 years ago.

For now I truly don’t know how. Pain can leave, anything traumatic can be worked on. You’ve got your scars.

I actually really think a scar is just unique as a snowflake or fingerprint. Telling so many stories. B/c a scar does mean something has healed. And it never forgets at one time it was painful. I’d prefer to see what I accomplish but I see wonder and beauty in them.

Things get pretty deep, complicated and downright pitifully sad. Vulnerable. Frighteningly true and relevant.

So I take what Good I can get in that day and pray those with LHC (Long-Haul COVID-19)

Be released.

However. On the flip tail’s side.

I’m 35 years aware there are some people who just don’t like me.

Until recently I wouldn’t have meant ‘sorry not sorry.’

I do now. To a respectable extent.

Reader discretion is advised. I promise I never set out to hurt anyone.

definitely not on purpose.

Because. Idgaf. Not bars being held. Que sera, sera.

complete transparency and seriously tho this doesn't mean i dont care. i wear my heart on my sleeve like a ding-dong ready to get hurt.

call it a diversion. we were on a break.

i just might take all of whatever hits wrong and turn that in to whatever ounce of assurance I can with the openness and to the best capability to learn new things and grow with compassion.

And back to writing—may already be just engrained but I don’t ever have a thesis, 3 supporting ideas or a better word then a conclusion.

You might find yourself confused. Reading it again prob won’t help.

Some will be really bad. Ugly. Waste of time. it was at least therapeutic for me.

Already is.

Even more might not make sense.

Read at your own risk, basically.

I have confidence but not really. Just enough not to care to change.

But I think about it. Because I’m wrong a lot.

challenge me. ill try to get through the fog.

But a lot of things have changed. in ways i might not even know Beauty in the Mess.

To sum up the above (sorry, there won’t be another summary after this disclaimer’s commercial intermission.)

I want to be as positive as possible.

Be in control of what I can. Ask for help for what I cannot.

I’m so ready to get My Life back. Trust Me and trust anyone Who tells your theyre in constant pain.

Really embarrassing I used to kind of scoff and be empathetic.

Funny how youre so sure of things.

Until it happens to you.

Suddenly it’s back to the drawing board and humility.

I wear my ღ on my sleeve. My greatest superpower and kryptonite.

What you read is as close to what you get as possible.

Balance can be unfair.

Please know that I care. I try harder than I ever had before. There are things I didn’t even Imagine could happen to someone when sick.

In all the ways I want to come out of this even better than what I envy I was entering into when I got sick.

There will be a WIDE range of thoughts similar to how i write. Mostly Sports and public figures and the politics I can comprehend.

B/c I know there’s someone out there who’s homeless because of this diagnosis. Or was deadly. Fired.

Divorced.

Ive become a bit of a nerd. Childish in some ways b/c you have to be creative…to be creative.

How do I even Start philosophizing that? So I don’t.

So I try My best to be the best I can. Inspire. Elicit laughter and new ways of thinking.

Questions.

Really tho? I just wanna be me.

thank you so sincerly to anything fromn a meme to a gift to a hug a prayer a smile, company, vibes if they can travel

but most of all

for holding hope when ive not been strong enough to.

For better or worse

for loving me.

making me feel heard.

idk what tomorrow holds but if its the same as today ill know at least i can make it and i am still beyond blessed and cared for and loved unconditionally.

even if forever.

wanna feel free, free.

to be me unabandoned.

changed for the better without knowing it.

some people dont have that option.

or even less the resource or safety to write about it.

Lastly mostly—I’m thankful for Insurance and the ability and privilege to work from home. And. Still have a job in general.

A Family and Family reserves holding me.

gentry.gonna.gents/g3

next. and if you made it this far, bless you.

thank you.

you mean more than you know to me. to anyone miscellaneous thanks as well and to my family and extended family and friends and job and insurance.

im in better shape than a lot. perspective sucks in the throes. selfish not selfish but my gosh turn the lights off. each journey is sooo different, but idk find the goodness and inspiration inbtw. There will be a rainbow soon enough, I wont make the bold claim and promise you one tho,

semi lastly and vulnerably, we've all been hurt. all going through something.

I say this every time something really bad happens. Ya know the ‘this is even worse,’ talk.

This one holds every candle.

Funny not funny none are the same and you’re never fully prepared.

and no one knows what it is you’re dealing.

give grace when I can’t sometimes.

cliché’s be damned lets just golden rule it b/c that one’s hard to do too but it sounds cute and Idont see a periodic table saying A! U! Be nice and welcoming.

I know I’ve forgotten something.

So I’ll fight.

But I still get to complain.

Feeling so entitled to this ill.

Sincerely,

Gentry

no ps you're welcome

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#Onthisday: Jun 10th, 2012

Title: Spot AGE-1 Normal

I have a ton of traditional drawings that relate on Cuteness Mecha in Gundam AGE armors without noting the armaments & features. So, I'm about to give it anyway with my 2012 sketch version of Spot AGE-1 Normal.

• This here is the armored AGE-1 used by Spot Speedster, of which was came from the "Legendary Savior" called "The Gundam" [CLICK ME! #!]. The AGE-1 was crafted masterpiece by the Asuno Family, and they follow up with the AGE-2 (for Gumball) & AGE-3/FX armors (for Chowder). Like future AGE armors, the AGE-1 uses the "AGE Device" [CLICK ME! #2] a memory device that will access the armor. Although, it did not effect their age progression, human/anthro or otherwise. It also has "Wear System" crafted by the "Age Builder" [CLICK ME! #3], which also crafted several arsenals for the armor AGE trio. As for the AGE-1's Wear System, it can switch from Normal to other forms like the "Titus", "Spallow", "Razor", "Glansa", etc...

Spot AGE-1 Normal Came from the: AGE-1 Gundam AGE-1 Normal

Armament(s):

• DODS Rifle The basic long ranged armament of the AGE-1 Normal. The DODS Rifle was created by the AGE system after the Genoace's Beam Spray Gun. The DODS Rifle spins the beam it fires like a powerful drill, generating enough force to destroy enemy mobile suits in a single shot. The DODS rifle has a limited number of shots, enough to keep a running battle going for some time but eventually repeated use without resupply will render the weapon empty. The DODS Rifle can be stored on rear waist armor when not in use. The rifle has two configurations, a one-handed mode where the barrel is rotated so that the secondary grip is pointing downwards, and a two-handed mode where the barrel is rotated so that the secondary grip is horizontally aligned. The latter mode allows for higher precision when shooting. The word DODS is an acronym that means "Drill-Orbital Discharge System".

• Beam Saber/Dagger Stored in the AGE-1's side skirt armor are a pair of beam sabers. The beam sabers can adjust their length for different combat situations and are also strong enough to pierce and destroy enemy mobile suits with ease. One can be used as a reserve weapon, or both can be used simultaneously in a twin sword fashion.

• Shield The AGE-1's defensive armament. It is made much thicker and sturdier than the Genoace's shield.

• Beam Spray Gun A weapon originally used by the Genoace. Despite being a beam weapon, the Beam Spray Gun is not powerful enough to damage the armor of mobile suits. The shots of the Beam Spray Gun are about as powerful as a tank shell.

• Marker Shot A pistol-like weapon with non-lethal ammo used during the mock battle.

• Beam Rolling Lance The Beam Rolling Lance is a pole weapon with a rolling beam cutter on its tip. With it, the AGE-1 can slice down Vagan suits far better than regular beam sabers.

Special Feature(s):

• AGE System The AGE System is the Special OS for the AGE-1 (AGE-2, AGE-3 & AGE-FX) engineered by the lineage of the Asuno family. It researches the evolution of living beings by digitizing the mysteries surrounding it and collects battle data to customize itself, grows alongside the Cuteness Mecha member and is customized and used exclusively by the AGE armor users. The only way for this system to be used and the AGE Armor to mobilize is by using the AGE Device. After the rollout of its successor, AGE-2, AGE-1 was taken to the Earth Federation's headquarters, Big Ring so that it can be modified to not require the AGE System anymore.

• Wear System The arms (including shoulder armor) and legs of the AGE-1 are detachable, which allows alternate sets of limbs or "wears" to be attached. In conjunction with the AGE Builder, this allows the AGE System to dramatically change the overall performance of the unit by analyzing combat data and fabricating new wear parts to adapt to new situations or enemies. Later, the AMEMBO support craft was built to deliver the wear parts to AGE-1 during battle, saving it from having to return to its mothership/base for the exchange of wear parts.

Spot Speedster - created by ME! Armor (Mobile Suit Gundam AGE) - Gundam Series © SUNRISE, Sotsu

[caught-in-the-filter]

Dark Hook or Season 2 Hook, handcuffs and some hair pulling. CS smut ;)

Mmmm yes please. 😏🔥 Thank you for the prompt! 🥰❤️😘

As I’ve missed both WIP Wednesday and TIT Thursday this week, I’m sharing this fic for Finalized Untimely-Crafted Kinkiness Friday!

(I think “untimely” technically means too soon, not late? But I can’t think of another fitting word for the acronym, so it is what it is.)

It’s a DH pwp “mini”-fic at about 1700 words. Because I like him too and am very indecisive. And I took some magical liberties with the handcuffs to facilitate the indecisiveness. You’ll see. I hope you enjoy. 😊😘❤️

Thank you @kmomof4 and @hollyethecurious for looking over it for me. 😘😘❤️❤️

Read it on AO3

——

“You look positively delectable, Swan. Laid out for me like that.” The Dark One stalked toward the bed, removing his own clothes with a flourish of his wrist and casually taking himself in hand, his cock already hard at the sight of Emma’s naked form. He smirked as he watched her test the tendrils of crimson smoke swirling around her wrists, keeping her arms stretched above her head.

“Do you like it, love?” Another wave, and Emma gasped as her legs spread wide, allowing the Dark One to kneel between them. “Being on display for me like this? My magic keeping you at my mercy?” He lowered his head and tipped it back to look up at her as he flattened his tongue against her stomach and licked an agonizingly slow stripe from her navel to her chin, climbing over her as he followed the path with his body. He hummed and opened his mouth to speak again, his hot breath ghosting over her lips, just a hair’s breadth away from her, as he added, “If I should choose to have any mercy on you, of course. But when your skin alone tastes like that, I don’t know what the taste of your arousal will do to me.”

“Y-yes,” Emma answered, shivering beneath him as his cock brushed her stomach and she longed for it to be lower.

“Yes, what?” he prodded as he ran the tip of his hook along her collarbone and down her side, a thin trail of red rising in its wake.

“Yes, Dark One. I like it.”

He sneered with a bit of both menace and mischief, still angered by the fact that the title of the one on which he swore to seek revenge was now his own, and yet exhilarated by the feeling and the power which the title gave him.

“Good girl,” he growled. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, Dark One.”

“There’s a good lass,” he purred. “You know I like to be commanded.” He sat back and held her still with the side of his hook pressed just above where she wanted him.

“No,” she interrupted before he could plunge his fingers inside her, “fuck me with your cock.”

“Ah, you’ve already caught on,” he grinned. “As you wish.” Aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance, he filled her quickly, the shock of the stretch taking her breath away, and the slick feel of her momentarily taking his. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet, and I hadn’t even touched you. You must have been thinking about this, haven’t you, naughty girl?”

“Did you expect me not to?” Emma panted in time with his rough thrusts.

“No,” he admitted with a smirk, palming her breast and slamming into her with abandon. She writhed beneath him as he took her hard and fast, her loud moans mingling with the slapping sound of skin against skin as both echoed through the room. He nipped at her flesh, hungrily marking her with his teeth in several places, some of which would certainly be seen later, no matter how modestly she may try to dress. When she impatiently rose to meet him, he asked her again, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come,” she answered breathlessly. “Dark One, make me come.”

“My pleasure,” he answered with a kiss, pulling her lip between his teeth before coyly biting his own as he left her empty and slid down her body until his face arrived at her aching core.

“Seriously?” Emma questioned, having expected to come on his cock. But she gasped when he licked along her folds and sucked on her clit before his tongue prodded her entrance, lapping at the wetness his cock had encouraged.

“The Dark One tricks.” He laughed and gave her clit another strong suck. “You didn’t say how, and I told you I intended to taste you.”

She thought about correcting him again, having forgotten to clarify her desires as intense pleasure clouded her mind, but his mouth felt amazing too, and honestly it didn’t matter how she got there as long as she did.

He dipped his tongue inside her, flicking it back and forth before removing it, making her whimper. Humming against her flesh, he repeated the motions several times and introduced his fingers in tandem when her back arched off the bed.

“That’s it. Come for me, my sweet,” he guided, fucking her in earnest with his hand. “Let me drink in your pleasure.” With that, he suctioned his mouth around her entrance and tongued at her relentlessly as he thumbed at her clit, rolling and pinching the swollen nub and eliciting the most sinful sounds from her as she rose and fell with the waves of her release, allowing him to consume every drop.

The weightlessness from her euphoric climax was suddenly amplified as a swirl of deep red smoke lifted her off the mattress with ease and brought her to her knees on the floor at the foot of the bed, restraining her arms behind her back. Met with his cock straining toward her face, she looked up at him with wide eyes, knowing what he’d demand and more than willing to oblige.

“Getting what you want from me means I get something in return, love. That’s how it works. Open up.”

“Yes, Dark One,” Emma submitted and let her jaw fall loosely open, waiting, not making another move until he would tell her to do so.

“Take my cock in your mouth,” he ordered, gritting his teeth as she obeyed. He surprised her when he took a fistful of her hair and brought her flush against him with a guttural groan. “That’s it.”

Emma flattened her tongue along his length, choking around it as it teased her throat, conditioning her breathing through her nose as he held her there for what felt like forever until he finally pulled her head back and allowed her a few gulps of air before sheathing himself with her mouth once more.

“Look at me, love.” He tilted her head back just enough so that she could gaze up at him as he rolled his hips and began to thrust. “Very good.” Emma did her best to relax to keep her jaw from locking, letting him use her for his pleasure as his grip on her hair tightened. “Fucking perfect. Suck on it,” he sighed, more plea than instruction, letting her rest her chin on the curve of his hook as she did as she was told and he continued to forcefully piston his hips. “Yes, Emma. So good for me.”

When his own mouth fell open, the sound that came from it left Emma trembling with renewed desire as he poured his warm release down her throat and onto her tongue as he slowly pulled himself away from her. Her eyebrow rose to taunt him as she allowed some of it to spill onto her breasts before swallowing the rest. “That was—”

“Was?” He interrupted, silently commanding her to stand with a harsh tug on her hair, and she followed his insistent prompting. “Oh no, love,” he spun her around and brought her back to his chest, catching her arm in the crook of his hook, “we’re not done yet.”

Wrenching her head back at an angle, he watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck and caught it with the tip of his tongue, tracing its path of descent in reverse and relishing the chill that doing so had sent coursing through her.

“You wanted to come on my cock, and after that performance, how could I not make good on it?” He nosed and nipped at the shell of her ear, and Emma’s legs grew weak beneath her. “I may be Dark, Emma, but you’ll find I’m not so much the monster one would assume.” She gasped again when he shoved her forward, the smoke relinquishing its hold on her wrists so she could catch herself on her hands as he bent her over the edge of the bed, only for it to knock them out from under her a moment later so she fell to the mattress with a yelp. “And only as much of a beast as you want me to be,” he smirked as he gripped her ass, which the new position had proudly presented to him.

“Please, Dark One,” she whispered, overwhelmed with want.

“Yes, love?” The Dark One teased her with the tip of his cock, passing it up and down along her folds and tapping her ass with it as she wiggled at him impatiently.

“Please,” she whimpered softly, spreading her legs further apart.

“Say it.”

“Please, fill me with your cock again, Dark One,” Emma begged. “Please let me come on it.”

“Your wish is, quite literally, my command.” He pressed inside her once more, sheathing himself to the hilt. With each deliberate roll of his hips, he filled her completely, his balls slapping her clit and his cock hitting that spot deep inside her that blurred her vision as she could only see the impending relief it promised her.

“Yes. Oh, yes, Dark One!” Emma cried, and he lost any shred of restraint he had left. Pounding into her with frenzied thrusts, he leaned over her back, wrapped her hair around his hand, and clamped his mouth over her shoulder blade, digging his teeth into her flesh as he found a bit more of his release and spilled it inside her throbbing core. The warmth with which it filled her, paired with the feel of his tongue on her skin as he attempted to soothe the evidence of his bite, was too much. “Yes!” His hook teased her clit, the cool metal a jolt against her heat, and she shook beneath him as she clenched around his cock and came for the second time that night.

Spent at last, they crawled onto the bed and collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and ragged breaths.

“Anything to say, love?” he asked, gently stroking her sweat-soaked hair, his desire to pull it finally sated.

“Thank you, Dark One.” She smiled, and he returned the grin.

“Good girl.”

——

Tag list which I still can’t believe I have, thank you all ❤️: @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @teamhook @thejollyroger-writer @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 2: 4,379 words Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler’s words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision’s mind.

Chapter 2: there ain’t a cloud in sight

“Director Carter!”

Peggy is just about to finally leave the facility when the voice calls her name. She’s tired after having spent the past week helping to set up this brand new S.H.I.E.L.D. training programme, so she can’t help but snap when the young agent catches up to her in the hallway leading to the exit. “What?”

The agent flinches, the grip on the file she’s holding tightening, and Peggy feels slightly guilty. Not that she’d let it show.

Whatever courage the agent had must have dissipated. “I… I, um, was wondering if I could ask a question?” She fidgets under Peggy’s glare. “If you aren’t busy!”

“Well I am busy and you’ve already asked a question,” Peggy sighs, “but go ahead.”

Despite being utterly desperate to call it a day, she admires the girl’s enthusiasm and guts to ask her in the first place. Not many of the younger rookies have done so and she deserves a chance that not many other seniors would be willing to give.

The girl smiles nervously before clearing her throat. “I was just thinking about the name of the new division.”

Peggy can’t help but smile as the girl continues, having a knowing feeling to what she is leading up to.

“I just… I like knowing the meaning behind things and I love learning about S.H.I.E.L.D. history and I think I’ve got them all figured out but I’m so stumped on this one!”

Anger gradually receding as if she were washing some dirt off in the shower, Peggy’s smile broadens. “What have you gathered so far?” She asks curiously.

The agent takes a deep breath. Her confidence is visibly returning, presumably due to Peggy’s own change in mood. Her voice even sounds stronger as she begins to talk about a topic that truly interests her.

“It’s a name, right? That’s all I’ve really got. Nothing as obvious as the ‘Daniel Sousa Award for Bravery’-” Peggy’s smile falters slightly- “but it’s not an acronym or anything, so it’s gotta be a name.”

“It is a name, yes.” Peggy affirms, pride seeping into her voice.

“I knew it!” The agent squeals, causing another agent who was in the process of leaving to give her an odd look.

Noticing how this weakens the agent’s confidence again, Peggy tries to reassure her with another question. “Do you have any idea whose name?”

The agent giggles nervously. “I think it has to be personal. I know that some of the buildings are named for personal reasons but they’re all also somehow tied to S.H.I.E.L.D. history too. Or the person has some sort of connection to the purpose of their namesake. I guess it has to be someone called Jarvis that the textbook didn’t mention.”

She pauses and Peggy realises that all her anger has gone now and her smile reflects that, making the agent look at her in confusion. Peggy shakes her head and motions for her to carry on with her theorising ramble.

“…Looking at your reaction, it has to be someone close to you, right?” The agent pauses again, her smile fading. “But that makes no sense…”

“And why is that?” Peggy asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A blush forms on the agent’s cheeks and she looks down in embarrassment. “Because the closest I’ve got is Howard Stark’s butler.”

The silence between them is enough confirmation she needs.

“Wait, what-”

“Have you ever heard of Occam’s Razor?” Peggy interjects, relishing in the flabbergasted look on the agent’s face.

Said agent runs a hand through her blonde hair. “N-No.”

“It’s a philosophical principle.” She provides. “To sum it up, it basically means that the simplest explanation to a problem is most likely the true one.”

The agent’s eyes grow wide. “So-”

"So," Peggy continues, “while I commend you for your dedication to the matter, it seems you had the right answer all along.”

She doesn’t bother to stifle her yawn as she watches the cogs turn in the agent’s head.

“But… why?” She asks eventually. “What does the butler have to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

The exhaustion is starting to sink deep into Peggy’s bones, and she knows that the agent would keep asking questions for as long as she could. So, to prevent herself from passing out on the spot, she knows she has to go home.

“Let’s just say,” she says as she turns to leave with one last knowing smile, “that you shouldn’t underestimate the need for support. Being a butler doesn’t define one’s personality and Mr Jarvis is an extremely fitting namesake for the new support division.”

She walks towards the glass doors (which to her, at this point, look like the gates of Heaven) and judging by the click of her heels being the only sound echoing down the corridor she knows that the agent hasn’t moved. Was it really that shocking that Mr Jarvis was a true ally to S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Actually, the more she thinks about it, she didn’t think there was much to him when she first met him either. He was quick to prove her wrong, though, and somewhere along the way he became her best friend.

And she thinks that the world deserves to know. Rumours be damned.

So just before she is about to exit, she turns back to the stunned agent one last time. “If you want to know more you should pop ‘round to my office some time. I’d be happy to tell you more.”

The agent snaps out of her trance and her face lights up with joy. That’s when it suddenly occurs to Peggy that she’s been too tired to even ask the young agent’s name. “What’s your name, agent?”

“O-Oh, um, Hill, ma’am. Nancy Hill.”

“Well since you seem quite the history buff, Agent Hill, I hope you do come to my office. There is a very special assignment I would like to entrust you with. Goodnight.”

Once she is finally out of the building Peggy feels relief wash over her. It’s been an incredibly long and tiring day but meeting Agent Hill has given her a small ray of hope for the future of S.H.I.E.L.D.

And yes, she knows that writing a new textbook isn’t the most thrilling of assignments, but she has a feeling that she would enjoy the challenge. Either way, someone will have to do it. It’s about time that forgotten names such as Edwin Jarvis, Robert Dooley, Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa got their stories told and the credit they deserve.

~-.-~

God, his head hurts.

Each time he thinks his anger is subsiding, an intrusive thought pokes its way into his mind and rekindles it again. The worst part is he doesn’t have anyone to take his anger out on because he’s the only one to blame.

It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have gone to the Hampers’ dinner party all that time ago. Such a small decision would have saved so many lives! He wouldn’t have met Maria, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, he wouldn’t have gotten the poor woman pregnant and have to admit he’s the father.

He takes another swig of the near-empty bottle.

But no, he had to be an idiot and go to the damn party. Not only that, he had to be the stupid womaniser he i- he was, and offer to take her home. And then she’d had the audacity to refuse him- which was a first for him- which made him all the more interested in her. And now he was stuck with upcoming fatherhood without a single clue of what to do.

He has no idea if it’s going to be a boy or a girl- hell, it doesn’t even matter since he’ll screw it up either way. And because the whole world has its eyes on him at all times, everyone will see how much he’s fucking up, too! And then then his entire reputation (which he built up from nothing) will be ruined. His life will be ruined, and so will Maria’s, and so will their unborn child’s.

He moves to take another long drink from his bottle of scotch, but when he realises it’s empty he lets out a low growl.

“Damn it!” He cries, thrusting the bottle across his workshop. It shatters against the wall, and shards of glass drop down like shimmering, deadly rainfall with a soft clinking sound as they hit the floor.

Great. Look, that’s another mess he’s responsible for.

But damn did that feel good.

In a sudden desperate frenzy, his eyes scan the room for any other glass items. In the corner of the workshop, on one of the tables, is a prototype self-charging electric torch. At the moment it doesn’t look like that though, just a mess of bits of circuitry and glass.

Perfect.

He hurries over to pick it up and lob it against the wall. Once again, it shatters and falls to the ground, only this time it's accompanied by sparks as weeks of hard work are destroyed in the process.

Who needs a self-charging torch, anyway? What a stupid idea thought up by a stupid man.

“Sir!”

He races over to the far end of the workshop to pick up a handful of lightbulbs and is just about to throw them when he feels two strong arms wrap around him from behind, pinning his arms to sides.

Jarvis.

“Let go of me!” He shouts, writhing against his butler’s grip. But Jarvis is a lot taller than he is and manages to lift him off the ground.

“Calm..! Down..!” Jarvis says through gritted teeth as he strains to keep his hold on him.

In retaliation to being restrained, Howard drops the bulbs in his hand. They fall and smash on Jarvis’s shoes, causing the man to yelp and let go of him in shock.

“HA!” Howard screams in both hysterics and triumph as he rushes away from Jarvis and plans his next move. Jarvis seems preoccupied with hopping on the spot for some reason and his head is bowed, so he could probably sprint over there and clock him in the jaw without too much of an issue.

So that’s what he does. He rushes toward Jarvis and is about to strike before Jarvis somehow catches both of his wrists and holds them as tight as cuffs.

“Calm down.” He repeats sternly, holding Howard’s arms in such a way that he has no choice but to look up at his butler’s eyes. “You’re drunk, Sir.”

Howard vaguely remembers drinking. There was a bottle, wasn’t there? Oh yeah, there was... that’s what he’d thrown in the first place. But then why is he drunk?

He remembers Maria’s ever-growing baby bump and he lets out a low growl.

“You have no idea-” He begins to snarl, but Jarvis cuts him off.

“Yes, you’re right, I do have no idea.” He says softly but firmly, and Howard can’t help but feel like he’s being told off. “So why don’t you sit down and calmly tell me about it, hm? Rather than destroy months of work?”

That does sound like a sensible idea. It was Jarvis’s idea, of course it would be sensible. Jarvis is a very sensible person.

“Hmm.” He says in reply, and he hears Jarvis let out a small exhale as he releases his hands (damn that man was surprisingly strong) and sits down on one of the workshop’s stools, beckoning Howard to join.

Howard reluctantly obeys. He doesn’t want to be told off by Jarvis again.

“Now,” his butler begins once Howard has sat down, “what’s bothering you?”

The ‘this time’ isn’t said, but Howard knows it’s being strongly implied.

Howard just scoffs and waves him off. “Pshh, you wouldn’t understand, Jarvis. It’s not like you have any kids.”

Something flashes behind Jarvis’s eyes for a brief second, and a sliver of guilt finds its way into Howard’s heart. Not that he can figure out why, and right now he doesn’t really want to.

“Ah.” Is all Jarvis says. “You’re worried about being a father.”

Howard lets out a humorless snort. “Good observation. Do I pay you for that?”

He doesn’t respond to what Howard thinks is a top-quality joke, and instead he lets out a long sigh.

“And what exactly do you have to worry about, Sir?”

See, Jarvis has this voice. This soft, caring, empathetic voice that only comes out when he needs it most. Howard doesn’t know if he puts it on or that’s just what his voice sounds like when heard by drunken ears, but he has this voice that can always soften him, no matter the situation. Granted, sometimes it takes longer to get through to him than other times, but it always does in the end. And, in the end, it usually results in Howard turning into a sobbing mess and spilling his guts to him.

A choked sob crawls its way out of his throat. “I… I just…”

His attempt at trying to explain is cut short when the tears begin to flow freely. Knowing that he is way past any dignity at this point, Howard gives up on talking and decides to try and cry it out.

Jarvis watches but makes no move to comfort him. Because Jarvis knows him, and he knows that he’d rather die than admit that he’s crying or that he needs comforting. And he can trust Jarvis to not mention it in the morning. Still… his butler watches him with worry in his eyes.

After what feels like hours, Howard clears his throat.

“Hey, uh, Jarvis?” He says eventually, his voice slurred. “D’you mind telling me I’m gonna get it right? That… that I’m not gonna fuck it up?” In that voice, he stops himself from adding.

The man sighs. “It won’t be simple, but you’ll pull through, Sir. Your love for Maria and your child won’t let you… mess things up. I have full faith in you. You have people all around you to help.”

Jarvis had been sitting beside him silently the whole time, and Howard knows that without him the entire workshop would be trashed by now. But he feels reassured because Jarvis is a sensible person and if Jarvis says something he’s probably right.

He yawns. “Thanks.”

Suddenly he feels very tired. He closes his eyes, perfectly happy to fall asleep right there on the stool, when firm fingers grab his arm tightly. “Hey-”

“You should go to bed. It’s very late and Mrs Stark must be waiting for you.”

It’s only then does Howard realise that Jarvis has been in his stupid-looking pajamas the whole time. The realisation is so funny that once he lets out an initial snort, he can’t stop laughing, so Jarvis has to half-carry him out of the workshop and back up to his room. That limey bastard had come all the way in his pjs to check on him.

Maria is somehow wide awake when Jarvis opens the door, and she curses quietly before taking him from Jarvis’s care and into her own. He vaguely thinks that Jarvis offers to help but Maria shoos him off.

Howard would much prefer Maria’s hands all over him, anyways.

She tuts at him and leads him to the bathroom, mumbling incoherently. Howard groans in response to whatever the hell she’s saying and she glares at him.

“You’re lucky Mr Jarvis found you. We’re talking about this in the morning.”

This time she speaks more clearly. It hurts his head.

But the words pull through, and all of a sudden he wishes he’ll get assassinated in the middle of the night rather than face his wife in the morning.

~-.-~

Ana knows that she and Edwin both owe their lives to Howard Stark. But that doesn’t mean that they have to spend every hour of every day bending at the knee for him. Yes, without his help she would almost certainly be dead (and Edwin definitely so), but it was done out of kindness. Stark isn’t divine, nor is he a particularly good man anymore.

So why on Earth her dear Edwin is having to leave their bed in the middle of the night to go and help him is beyond her.

It started happening a few months ago, when Mrs Stark’s pregnancy was really starting to show and Mr Stark was getting more and more anxious about it. The only problem is that when Mr Stark gets anxious, he usually turns to alcohol- and that doesn’t end well for anybody. Especially poor Edwin, with the amount of times he’s had to carry a drunken Howard up the stairs and clean up whatever mess he’s made that time.

She keeps on telling him that he should ask one of the other, younger members of the staff to clean it up but Edwin will hear none of it. The excuse he gives is something to do with Mr Stark’s privacy and faith in him, but Ana knows that the real reason is Edwin’s own insecurity and stubborn belief that he must serve Howard Stark until the end of his days to pay off his debt.

And today, even when he is halfway across the world, Edwin still leaves his bed to talk to a drunk Howard Stark on the telephone.

The bedroom door finally opens, and her husband stumbles in. Exhaustion radiates off him but it is nowhere near as much as when he has to physically help his boss. His eyes are alarmingly red and she can spot the wrinkles on his brow which is a worrying sign.

“Is Mr Stark alright?” She asks, trying not to let her voice reveal just how irritated she is at having her husband stolen away from her in the extremely early hours of the morning. She can be grateful to Howard Stark during the day, but at night she just wants a peaceful sleep with Edwin.

Edwin rubs his right eye and sighs. “He’s just had an argument with Maria. She was especially angry, this time and he needed me to calm him down.”

If Ana was slightly irritated before, she could definitely feel burning hot anger bubbling up inside of her now. Howard Stark had no right to ruin their night just because he couldn’t get over himself and his silly pride.

“He needed you?” She asks skeptically.

“Apparently so. Maria was just having a hard time settling into the hotel and decided to take it out on Mr Stark.”

Maria had left the manor earlier than evening to begin the journey to visit her parents and was planning to break up the journey by staying at a hotel overnight somewhere along the way.

Ana wants to know more about the argument and if Maria is alright, but whenever she asks about Mr Stark’s more… personal affairs, Edwin always brushes her off with some excuse about the man’s privacy. And while she respects that, it does rekindle her worries about who her husband prioritises: himself, or Mr Stark.

She pulls back their quilt to allow Edwin to slip back in, which he does with a small smile. Stress is still written all over his face though, and Ana knows that she has to step in or else he won’t get a wink of sleep.

“I still don’t think he needed you.” She says once he’s comfortable beside her. “That man is in his fifties, he doesn’t need you to coddle him.”

Edwin lets out a long sigh and she feels a twinge of guilt for bringing up the subject. But she knows that he will never rest if the issue isn’t resolved.

“He has nobody else to turn to.” Is Edwin’s weak retort.

“Poppycock!” Ana scoffs. “That man has at least a hundred servants, why can’t he bother one of them for once?”

“He-” Noticing that Edwin is about to spout his usual defence, she quickly cups his face to silence him.

“I’m sure he has done favours for some of the others too, dear. You’ve already given your life to him, what more can he want?”

After Ana lowers her hands he immediately shuffles in bed to face her. His eyes are filled with uncertainty and she wishes she could bear all of his burdens on his behalf and share his pain. Maybe then she could see the relaxed man that she hasn’t seen in months.

“He’s also my friend. I’m doing what I would do for any of my friends. And besides, you know that he’s a danger to himself and others, if I don’t step in there could be a disaster. It’s lucky that he decided to call me before doing anything drastic so I could talk him down.”

He’s showing no signs of backing down and though Ana hates that it has come to this, she must be direct and end the conversation here and now.

So she looks him in the eye and says gently: “He’s taking advantage of you, kedvesem. You’re as much of a tool to him as any of his screwdrivers in the workshop, and you’re the only one who can’t see this.”

There’s a heavy silence that fills their dimly-lit bedroom. She watches as the words slowly sink into Edwin, revelation coursing through his veins, and soon his hardened eyes begin to melt away into a sadness that causes her own heart to ache.

“He’s… he’s not.” He whispers at last, and she knows that the words aren’t directed at her. “He… Howard isn’t like that, he wouldn’t…”

He rolls over so that he has his back to her and Ana’s aching heart shatters into a million pieces.

“He’s not the same as he used to be.” She soothes softly, moving to grasp his hand under the covers. “He doesn’t deserve what you give to him, and I think that you and I both need to take a break from him. From both of them.” He doesn’t seem to react when she rubs his back in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Spend some time with just the two of us, hmm?”

Edwin lets out a broken sob.

He is finally realising what she has known for months. Edwin is too trusting and far too willing to give his life in order to serve others, and Howard Stark is an opportunistic man. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

After turning him back over to her side, she wordlessly wraps his large frame into her significantly smaller arms, stroking his hair as his shoulders shake while he weeps quiet tears into her. It is late, he has been very stressed lately, and he has just had to deal with a very difficult phone call. Her words simply tipped him over the edge into a long-awaited cry.

As he continues to sob, Ana believes she can hear some commotion happening over in Stark Manor. A few seconds later, she can see lights being switched on from her window. She chooses to ignore it though. Whatever is happening, her husband’s grief is much more important.

Once he is all cried out and she has gently wiped the tears away from his eyes, he utters a quiet thanks before moving to rest his head on the pillow and lie flat on his back. Ana moves forward to plant a small kiss on his forehead before doing the same herself.

They lie in silence for a few moments until Edwin speaks up.

"Ana, darling, I don't think I will be able to fall asleep at present."

It is just as she feared. Sitting up, she smiles a little tiredly. "Do you want to go and sit in the living room for a bit? We can plan our little getaway."

Although they are both in desperate need of sleep, they have just had an impromptu heavy conversation and they need to step away from the tension still lingering in the bedroom.

"Yes… I'd like that."

They move into the living room and sit down on their sofa together. She instinctively cuddles up to him and he wraps one arm around her to pull her close.

"So," she begins, the atmosphere around them already a lot lighter, "why don't we go to Scotland? You said you wanted to visit and I have always wanted to see the big hairy cows."

Edwin chuckles and Ana feels accomplished.

"Highland cows aren't exactly majestic beasts, my dear." He says and she pouts playfully. "But I think Scotland sounds like a great idea. I haven't been there in years."

Ana's heart flutters at the image of a young Edwin walking along a dainty Scottish country path in his old uniform, eyes full of wonder. She wonders if she could convince him to recreate that look.

"Well, I guess that's settled then. Scotland it i-"

There's a sharp, frantic knock at the door causing them both to jump. A loud female voice soon follows it.

"Mr Jarvis! Ana! Mr Jarvis, please, it's an emergency!"

Edwin is the first to recover as he rises and rushes to go and pull on his dressing gown before opening the door. Ana peers over his shoulder.

It's Miss Jennifer Bailey, the head maid. She looks panicked but somewhat relieved when Edwin answers the door.

"Mrs Stark's gone into labour," she blurts out, "and she's asked for you both. Get ready and hurry, we need to meet her at the hospital!"

She's running back towards the mansion before either of them can respond. Ana is only able to mutter "Oh my goodness" before Edwin suddenly pushes past her back into the house and into their room.

It's almost frightening how quickly he switches from her loving husband into a dog for the Starks.

Then it hits her that Maria is about to give birth, and she too hurries inside to get changed.

Minutes later, they are appropriately dressed and in the car with a bag of supplies, and Edwin is driving through the gates of the property with Miss Bailey sitting in the backseat.

So much for their break from the Starks.

[striffyisme]

Right so I was thinking, a rarely (or rarely from where I am) discussed aspect of ADHD is reading comprehension. Most people associate ADHD and reading as generally non-compatable, as it tends to require sitting still and focusing for long periods of time. What doesn't tend to be mentioned is that ADHD actually makes the act of reading hard, on occassion.

As a kid, I was constantly stuck with my head in a book. I read all the time, sometimes multiple books a day, because of the escapism it offered. I also have really bad ADHD, that I struggle to manage as an adult. Because of that, I struggle to read now, something I'm sure a lot of other ADHDers can relate to.

So, I've made a handy image to try and show what reading with ADHD is like, for people who don't have it. Fair warning, it's not meant to be easy to see/read, so if you already have problems with that then skip to the image ID below.

[Image ID: A text note, made to be difficult to read. Large portions of the text are blurry, and warped, while some are clear, and highlighted in different colours. Text with warping reads: "Hi there! This is an... ADHD... overstimulated. Sometimes... external overstimulation... process... process... overwhelming... paragraph breaks... This... Hope this helps!" End Image ID]

Here is a transcript of what the note says, without distortion: "Hi there! This is an extremely long message. This is what it feels like to have ADHD, and have to read a long passge of words, all closely together, when your brain is overstimulated. Sometimes this can happen due to external overstimulation, like bright lights, loud noises, or even just a combination of many things, that when put together we struggle to process. Sometimes it is because our brain is struggling to process new information, which can be caused by many things, including new or overwhelming emotions, exhaustion, and burnout. Often, without paragraph breaks or something to break up a wall of text, we find it difficult to read. This is often hard to explain if you don't experience it yourself. Hope this helps!"

If you skipped the big walls of text, that's fair. It's a fairly common part of ADHD, as a lack of clear visual differentiation often makes it hard to keep track of your place whilst reading. This is one of the many factors that affect our ability to read text.

For the image itself, the distortion follows some very simple patterns of ADHD reading. First of all, we do manage to get at least the first word or two. After that, our eyes tend to dart down, desperate to find patterns in the large wall of text. This can be formatting patterns, or word patterns. This is often why we tend to skip ahead over descriptions, straight to dialogue, and then have to work backwards, as written speech almost always breaks up large walls of text into small, manageable, pieces.

This is why some of the words are highlighted. They are either repeating, or similar to words previously seen. They also tend to be longer words, as these are easier to see at a glance, or capitalised words and acronyms, as these stand out from standard lowercase text. Our eyes jump to these, as they are easy to find quickly in lines of text, and we often use these as 'anchors'.

Anchors are places in text where we work outwards from. They tend to be words, or short phrases, that we can easily see at a glance, so that if we lose our place whilst reading, we can jump back to these metaphorical save points, knowing we have processed all the words before that.

Processing itself is another problem. An inherent part of ADHD is a difficulty, or inability, to prioritize tasks. This includes reading, which often means that when confronted with a wall of text, our brains try to process the whole thing in one go. This often leads to a difficulty in telling the difference between individual lines of text, combining words, or missing things, i.e the warping. This can vary in extremity dependent on the person, and obviously gets worse when combined with other things such as dyslexia, and other learning disorders.

Combined, all of this makes reading very difficult. As mentioned in the note itself, this varies depending on how stimulated our brains are. Something not mentioned in the note, however, is that this can also occur in understimulated brains. Due to a lack of engaging material, our brains will try to process new information a lot faster, in an sort of "finally we're doing something!" excitement. This tends to backfire, as processing issues tend to make people with ADHD put off doing the task, or get frustrated, making everything harder.

This doesn't just apply to books, though that is the most common example. It can also apply to text messages, group chats particularly, menus, posters, anything that can fit more than a few sentences of text on it, really.

So, if you have any friends with ADHD, suspected ADHD, or a processing disorder, and they seem to be struggling, then it might be worth asking if they need help reading the material they're having a hard time with. Changing the form of processing (from visual to audio) can help, e.g reading it aloud. You can also help by: pointing out the most important pieces of information; reading it over and giving them a basic summary, or; whatever they think will help them most.

I know it might be frustrating to deal with, but I promise we are likely even more frustrated then you are. We are the ones living with ADHD, and so have to deal with our brains all the time. Just give us some kindness and patience, and we'll get there eventually.

Thanks for reading, if you made it all the way through this. If you have a processing disorder feel free to add onto this! Any questions shoot me an ask/message. Neurotypicals do not clown on this post.

[ejzah]

A/N: The next chapter of the Agent and the Lawyer. Loosely based off of Absolution. I’m trying something a little different with the structure and not following the episodes so closely.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 18

“We should run together every morning,” Deeks said as he and Kensi rounded a bend in his favorite beach side path. “There’s this great little convenience store where we can grab coffee and a mostly fresh donut. The coffee’s not great, but the owner is super nice.”

Beside him, Kensi was matching him stride for stride, her breath even despite the pace. She smiled at his description, shaking her head.

“It’s not a good idea to follow a particular routine. It’s too easy for your movements, habits, and location to be tracked,” she explained. He knew how important it was for the team to maintain relative anonymity, but sometimes he thought they all took it a little far.

“It’s just coffee Kens. I’m sure no one suspects me of being a big bad fed or cares where I go.”

“Don’t let Sam catch you saying that. He’ll rip you a new one.”

“So does that mean no coffee?” he asked. It was definitely a part of his routine and gave him the energy to run all the way back home. Kensi groaned and tossed her head back, but didn’t put up any further protest when he led them to Sandune Convenience store. “Hey Frank!” he greeted the owner, heading for the canisters of brewed coffee.

“Hi,” Kensi said, looking a little uncomfortable as she waited for Deeks to fill a paper cup for her. Frank shot them a curious look, but didn’t comment.

“I ran five miles today, Deeks told Frank. Kensi snorted at that and said,

“Uh, that’s a big fat lie, he ran three.”

“So rude,” he said, amused at how quickly Kensi had abandoned her reservations when given the chance to make fun of him.

“I thought you were buying me a donut,” she reminded him.

“Of course, my lady.” He grabbed two Boston Creams and an apple fritter because he knew from past experience that when Kensi finished hers, she’d likely try to steal part of his.

After chatting with Frank for a few more minutes-his oldest daughter would be graduating from high school soon-they headed back on to the path. Their pace was leisurely now as they munched on donuts and drank coffee. It was significantly more enjoyable with Kensi beside him.

“Hey Marty!” A woman called out as she ran by. Deeks waved back without thinking.

“You know, if I was the jealous type, I might be worried about all the women who know you, wherever you go,” she said, gesturing with her cup.

“What can I say, I’m a friendly guy,” he said with a shrug, grinning around the rim of his cup. It was adorable when she got jealous.

“Mm, be careful you don’t friendly yourself into singledom.” He rolled his eyes at her warning and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Kensalina, you know I would never cheat on you.”

“I would hope not,” Kensi said, looking a little uncertain. “You would certainly regret it if you did.”

“I would never,” he repeated seriously. “You have my promise. I’m not that kind of guy.” He saw her cheeks flush a little and she glanced away as an awkward silence grew between them.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and Kensi reached for hers, seeming grateful for the distraction.

“Hey Eric,” she said. “Uh-huh. Ok, we’ll be there in a bit.” Deeks heard the faint sound of Eric’s voice raise in a question. “Oh, yeah, I promised Deeks I’d pick him up.” She forced a laugh and hung up quickly.

“Smooth,” Deeks teased.

“Shut up. Hetty wants us in OPS. Something to do with a dead antiques dealer.” She tossed her trash in a nearby can and then bent down to tighten a shoelace. As she stood back up, she turned to face Deeks, her expression playful. “I’ll race you back.”

Not waiting for him to respond, she took off at a sprint, her delighted chuckle floating behind her.

“Man, you are so whipped,” he said with a smile as he tossed his own cup and followed after.

***

“Where’s Deeks?” Callen asked when Kensi walks into OPS about an hour later. After they got back to his house, they’d made out in Deeks’ garden for several long minutes. Kensi had been highly tempted to call off work and finish what they’d started a couple weeks ago. Common sense had prevailed and she’d reluctantly left before she took Deeks up on his offer to join him in the shower.

She didn’t mention that to Callen though and shrugged.

“He got called into the office for a last minute legal emergency,” she explained.

“What exactly qualifies as a legal emergency?” Sam asked.

“He mentioned something about a CPS case that isn’t going well. He’ll come as soon as he can.”

She found herself turning to make comments to Deeks more than once while Eric, Hetty, and Nell explained who Sebastian Renner was. It felt weirder than she expected without Deeks by her side. She’d grown used to his comments and, often, inappropriate jokes, as well as his unique insight into cases.

***

Kensi smiled involuntarily when she walked back into the bull pen a couple hours later and saw Deeks sitting at his desk.

“So what’d I miss? he asked.

“Our victim, Sebastian Renner, was an arms dealer, a bunch of spies from other countries are now vying for his black book, and Hetty has an ex-German Police officer named Branston Cole, who might have pertinent information,” she summed up. Deeks looked a little stunned for a second and then nodded.

“Wow, this is the last time I take a morning off. You guys bring out the fun cases when I’m gone.”

“Well, now you get to join the fun too,” she said with a smile, grabbing her gun and slipping it into her waistband. Deeks hadn’t passed his firearms training yet, so he just watched. “Callen and Sam got chased out of Renner’s home by his dogs earlier. Now that they’re gone, Hetty wants us to see if we can find anything else.”

“So did you make it here on time this morning?” he asked, smirking at her. “You seemed a little disorganized and, uh, distracted when you left my place.” She smiled sweetly, pretending she wasn’t currently remembering the feel of his chest, damp with sweat, pressing into hers.

“I made it just fine,” she answered. “How was your shower?” Her voice was innocent, but she let her eyes drop a bit lower than was strictly polite.

“It was cold. Very cold.” Kensi snickered at that as they walked out.

***

“M-O-U-S-E?” Kensi said scathingly as she finished cuffing the two men she and Deeks had just fought. She rifled through one’s suit pocket and found a DGSE ID.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked. “I’m not and Agent and I’m not LAPD. You guys were shouting out your little acronyms and I felt left out. Which, reminds me, why the hell did you kick an NSA Agent in the groin?”

Kensi let out an irritated sigh and showed him the ID.

“He’s French Intelligence, Deeks. He was lying.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known that though.”

“I had a hunch,” she said with a shrug. Deeks made an outraged sound.

“A hunch. You don’t kick a guy in the nuts over a hunch!” He felt a little nauseous at the thought and resisted the urge to cover his crotch.

“I recognized his accent. It’s not American.”

“He didn’t have an accent,” Deeks said, horrified for the agent who was slowly gaining consciousness.

“I’m trained in linguistics, Deeks. I know the difference between French and English speech patterns,” she insisted.

“You’re insane.”

“Deeks, you’re acting ridiculous.” He ignored her, shaking his head.

“Sometimes it’s like I don’t even know you.”

***

Kensi watched Deeks from a few feet away. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his lips were split in a wide smile as he chatted with Sam and Callen several seats away.

They’d successfully apprehended a German spy named Matthias and the FBI and NSA were looking for the rest of the spies. They’d had to leave Deeks behind since he wasn’t authorized to carry a weapon.

Now they were at a nearby bar, per Deeks suggestions and on his dime. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. After a few drinks, Nell challenged Eric to a pool game and had even shed the little sweater she wore of her think strapped dress. There was definitely something going on there.

The combination of Deeks’ considerable charm, which he was working to it’s full limits, and large amounts of alcohol both had even Callen and Sam more at ease than she’d seen them in a while.

Deeks noticed her watching and headed her way. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Nicely done,” she complimented him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently.

“You know that once they sober up, they’re still going to ride you.” He groaned, dragging out a stool to sit next to her.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I can’t use the same methods I used with you,” he pointed out. Kensi rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you are way too full of yourself,” she said. He chuckled, resting his hand on the middle of her back. He probably did it without even thinking, but Kensi tensed immediately. She roughly pushed his hand away, glancing around to see if anyone had caught Deeks’ slip.

Fortunately they all were occupied and she let out a slow breath of relief. Beside her, Deeks had gone silent, making her belatedly regret her hasty actions.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He scratched at jaw, not meeting her eyes, which always a bad sign. “I just didn’t-“

“No, it’s ok. I get it.”

“The team is here and we agreed not to...” she trailed off awkwardly as Deeks filled in.

“Yeah, no, we agreed to keep out relationship quiet. I just forget sometimes.” He sighed, the sound heavy. Kensi looked down for a second, pressing her lips together as she tried to think of some way to brighten the mood again.

“You want to come over tonight when we’re done here?” she asked as a form of peace offering. So far she hadn’t let him past her living room and that was only after she hastily straightened everything. Deeks allowed a tiny smile, clearly realizing her attempt to apologize without actually apologizing.

“I would, but I have to work on that pro bono case. It’s a mess,” he said. Kensi wasn’t sure if it was a convenient excuse, but she felt a small sinking in her stomach.

“Ok,” she said in a small voice.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure.” She tried to tell herself she was overreacting, but couldn’t help notice the distance Deeks kept between them for the rest of the night.

***

A/N: Ooh, unexpected drama. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to have anything terrible happen.

[caringmechs]

I was reading your about page/DNI (like I always do before scrolling through a new blog) but I’m confused by the “DID System” and the “DNI if you’re a non trauma system“ thingy because what’s a system? I’ve seen the word on a few blogs but idk what it actually is. Sorry if this is a common sense thingy, I’m terrible at acronyms/shorthand’s of things that aren’t “lol” “omg” “idk”

You're fine, dear; a lot of people don't know about systems!

A system is one name for a collection of alters in someone who has DID (dissociative identity disorder) or OSDD-1 (other specified dissociative disorder, which has multiple categories)!

These disorders are caused by repeated early childhood trauma. Essentially, what happens is that the person's brain can't cope with what's happening, so it "splits" other people to help handle that. This will often cause dissociative amnesia between alters (essentially where one alter will remember certain events, but others won't).

It's a very serious set of disorders, and I have one of them (DID). In our system, I'm one of the "hosts" (an alter who can and often does get through daily life tasks, and/or who fronts often), and a "protector" (an alter who usually fronts during situations they deem unsafe, to protect the system from perceived dangers)! My being a protector is actually part of how I wound up becoming a carer, since I'm normally around (for protector reasons) to help with emotionally distressing situations!

I do want to add, not all people with DID or OSDD use the same terms we do! Some prefer to use "parts" instead of "alters," and not to break down those parts into role types. We use this terminology because we find the organisation helpful, and because we never really felt like parts terminology described our experience accurately. When communicating with people with DID/OSDD, it's important to keep their preferred terms in mind – if they tell you a term makes them uncomfortable, ask if there's something else they'd prefer you use!

The last thing I'll touch on is the dni part! Some people believe they have alters/are a system without having experienced any of the trauma required for said alters to form. We personally find this to be very ableist, along with some other behaviours common in the "non-trauma system" community.

Sorry this reply got a bit long, but I do hope this helps you to understand systems more! 💚

[popculturebuffet]

Reviewcaps: Amphibia: Swamp and Sensibility / Wax Museum

This week Anne tries to treat life like a ABCFamily Original Movie with predictable results while Kermit the frog cameos and the rest of the family wonder into a few possible Jordan Peele Movies. Then Anne stumbles into a Gravity Falls Homage and Frog Stan nearly murders her because that’s our boy. That’s our boy right there. Be warb under the cut. 

Wooo hoo! While this one’s a little wait both due to work on another review for a certain episode, this was a decent episode to cap off our long road trip. We’re now one week away from Marcy debuting and also Keith motherfucking David. 

I have no idea what enlisted is or what the hell is going on here but it’s keith david casually laying on a bicyle in full uniform. How could I not? 

Before we get to this week here’s last week’s recap, as tumblr ate it for reasons..  as you can also see if you click on my blog I tided up my subpages, so amphibia reviews can now be found in the general disney section along with ducktales and star vs. Now that’s out of the way our last episodes before marcy and keith, i’m a day behind, let’s a go. 

Swamp and Sensiblility

I”m also going to try going a bit looser.. still recapping what happens but not beat for beat as it’s gotten tiring and I sometimes strain for jokes especially when tired. So this week The Plantars find themselves stranded in Ribbiton, the most expensive city in amphibia after betsy breaks her reigns and, not having any other options are forced to stay with Hop Pop trying to keep the kids from getting distracted by the luxury. Thankfully they find an old friend: It’s One Eyed Wally!

Actually got an outside gif to work! Also hooray! But I did really like wally after his spotlight episode last season and his insane plan with the explosives that wound up paying off.. that’s some Wolverine level thinking.. no really he once cut the wires open in a sewer during a rainstorm so when the water inevitibly hit them it’d cause a blackout and hopefully help the x-men when it did if things had gone sideways.. which by the time it did, it did and they had. So good on you guys.  Anyways turns out Wally’s a rich boy but he’s gone too far because he know it don’t matter anyway.. and has been hiding his true self from his family, so the plantars showing up really dosen’t help. Thankfully he’s able tos top them from talking or correcting his father assuming their the help and our family takes lord rich asshole up on his offer to stay the night at their mansion, which in what I assume is a nod to gravity falls has peacocks on the lawn, though this being Amphibia their giant and deadly and you shouldn’t look right at them. 

Once in their fancy guest room, Anne wonders...

Wally explains, as I did he’s hiding himself. Anne sees parallels with a movie she was watching at the start of the episode from point to pop and lock which looks like my own personal hell.. aka an abc family original movie back before it became freeform, which is a more fitting name for what the network horrifcally mutated into over time so fair enough. It’s better than say keeping the names MTV or TLC long after either of those acronyms is at all accurate.. and at least with MTV they have almost 40 years of brand recognition to justify it with. But yeah it’s about a ballerina who wants to hip hop dance, you’ve seen the story a million time.. and a plot repeated here about a kid wanting to live their dreams but worrying their family won’t accept them or knowing they won’t, with wally, while not carrying for the money, not wanting to loose his family or his beloved bug... which reminds me of that Pokemon episode with James and his growlithe only without a carbon copy of jesse trying to use bdsm to make james obey which is not how that works Jessebelle. That’s not how any of that works. What.. what even was that episode.. I mean somehow it was really good and makes me question why Jesse and James never hooked up but still, what WAS that. 

Anyways, while Anne decides to interfere, the Plantars get a great montage of wondering into various creepy shit with toad saunas, rich people smashing things, and one frog in a peacock outfit among actual peacocks.. just.. yeah.. real Jordan Peele/Blumhouse “Rich white people are fucking terrifying” shit.. which is accurate. Thankfully instead of getting trapped in their own bodies or forced to star in the boy, our heroes make it back to Anne.  At dinner Anne outs wally as a frigging weirdo with predictable results. Yeah the one flaw I can find with this episode is it’s REALLY predictable up to this point: Anne watches a movie, is obviously going to encounter someone with similar problems, then tries using that movie as real life, it fails but then somehow workso ut in the end or dosen’t but the person is happy anyway. What does spice it up though is the final act, as Wally decides fuck it , he’s going to take control of his own life and issues a family challenge against his dad to do so, something Anne, and me honeslty, had forgotten about from last season as that was 30 years ago and one of the less memorable episodes. Still nice bit of continuity. But with wally lacking a mount because his dad’s a prick, Anne pitches in to fix her screw up and we get a decently shot sequence, and amontage, as Anne and Wally play rich polo against wally’s dad. Oh and of course the more notable part of this, Kermit the Frog here, if sadly the minty fresh matt vogel one instead of the sadly fired Steve Whitmire.. still not over that but oddly Vogel does a better job here than on muppets now as I genuinely could not tell it was him so it works. But yeah, it’s not Vogel doing a voice but Kermit DOING voicework for amphibia, because Muppets get wonderfully meta and Disney wanted to keep this gimmick going. yes going, as last year Fozzy did voice acting for Big City Greens... I fucking love this and hope disney keeps doing it for all their shows. Do Owl House next. 

Anywho Kermit commentates and it’s okay, they don’t do much with him but the sheer novelty of Kermit playing a thinly veiled copy of himself that still looks like a muppet still kinda works. Anyways wally ends up winning via hair accordion (”How long has that been in there?” “At least a full season”) and his dad dosen’t want Wally to leave the family.. which neither does he, he just wants to be accepted, his father accepts him, reveals he also likes music, happy end.  Final Thoughts: As you can tell I kinda breezed through this one but unlike other just okay episodes lately i’ts not half bad and while using a stock plot, it does use it cleverly, and to help flesh out a character we like.. it’s still very by thenumbers but the neat setting of the rich people mansion, the plantars journey through it’s creepy bowels and kermit the frog cameoing all really help boost what otherwise would’ve just be “the episdoe before the gravity falls homage” it still was but it was enjoyable enough. It’s just in a day where disney said gay rights and i’ts sister episode is again an homage to one of Disney’s greatst shows in it’s storied animated television history, it’s also easy to forget. If nothing else it was nice to have Wally back. I do think that helped. As you can probably also tell these road episodes have been wearing on me.. while their not BAD, and some are infact quite excellent, a few like this one, quarallers pass, and the acting and western episodes, are just.. eh. The character flaws they bring up are only one episode and they don’t really felsh out the charcters enough. Even here while it’s nice to get more dimension to wally i’ts not really by much. They just feel fairly stock in a show that while using some stock plots usually can do so creatively. I think that’s the core problem: it’s not that these are TERRIBLE it’s just I expect better form the show in a typical episode, and from the interesting setups the road brings, especially since it DOES deliver on them in other episodes and i’m kinda glad this stretch is finished next week. That being said it does go out on one hell of a note.. 

Wax Museum So after weeks of anticipation, our road trip ends on an episode that was hyped up before the season even began.. a weird move given this is week 5 and i’d of saved the interviews for closer like Disney does with ducktales, but regardless, this one was worth the wait.  First my quick, since I tend to go overboard on my thoughts on shows, thoughts on Gravity Falls: It’s fucking excellent. I stand by calling it one of disney channels best shows and while certaint hings could’ve used more time, like Dipcifica seriously I have no idea why tease that and then do nothing with it when they still had plenty of time left int he series even with Ford. But yeah a few minor quibbles aside the series was really good, left us wanting more which after seeing other shows sputter into flames at the end, hello Star Vs, I can live with. So yeah I was hyped for this one, especially since Amphibia creator Matt Braley not only worked on Gravity Falls but got Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch’s blessing.. and of course, Alex being a peach of a guy, just yesterday he proudly cooed over the fact Dana Terrance actually got Disney to have a bisexual lead character after he struggled to get anything remotley LBGTQ into gravity falls. He’s a good guy. And a weirdo but he’s my kind of weirdo. But being so nice, he naturally agreed to return as stan expy the curator and frog soos. While that is all we get, I do get not wanting to shohorn 80 refrences to the show in or get a ton of voice actors to come back for a cameo, nor try and include the twins due to the plot of this episode really not working with them around, thougH I WOULD have appricated frog mcgucket, but eh, you can’t get everything you want.  Said plot is again simple but really intresting: The Plantars stop in a small town and are dead broke, but Anne casually taking off her hood and being reminded she’s seen as a freak ends up as a lucrative buisness opprotunity as naturally small town yokels are fine with gawking. So with the plantars now having actual money to see the sighs Anne settles on the curosity hut, our mystery shack for the evening. The rest of the plantars, especially Polly who sees some eyes move, are utterly unverved byt he place and by it’s owner, the curator, our stan pines.. or stan ponds if you will. I mean if the series has a chuck and other normal names here an there, including Polly, then it’s not a stretch to say his first name stayed the same. Anyways, Stan shows the family around, including Air Mantis, because hell yes and some gnomes and other callbacks to gravity falls.. but I like how theirs only a handful to gravity falls monsters. There’s plenty of refrences but the episode wisely goes more for the FEEL of Gravity Falls: The creepy setting, weirder monsters (even if amphibia dosen’t shy away from weird , last episode had sheep bugs and all), and spooky vibe from the curosity hut all feel like the tone Gravity Falls went for, which is similar enough to amphibia the two mesh well. Plus the curator is basically a SLIGHTLY more evil stan pines... SLIGHTLY., and Braly naturally having worked on the show nails the character in writing while Hirsch steps back into the roll like it was just yesterday. It feels like a love letter to what the show was rather than just “hey remember this cool thing from it”, with still plenty of nice nods here and there. 

Anyways back to the actual plot, the rest of the Plantars decides to leave because this place gives them the creeps as does Stan, but once htey leave Anne finds something: A skipman! Which is a great name for a portable cd player.. seriously I had one of those early in high school, the skipping really was constant hell. If anyone ever complains about mp3s, smack em. I do not miss that era. Have a bit of nostalgia for it sure, but I do not actually MISS it. 

Anyways, yeah this is a big deal and it’s nice that even in the homage to it’s parent show, we get a rather big plot point: something else came from Earth and given Anne dosen’t recognize it as Marcies, though It still could be but I highly doubt it, it didn’t come with the three of them, meaning there were humans BEFORE.. possibly centuries in amphibia time given what we’ve seen so far. After all a great calamity had happened, it somehow invovles the box that brought anne here... no one says time travel can’t be involved. And it’ll raise even more in a minute. But first Stan offers a million coppers for it. not being made of money Anne instead bargins on her weirdness: One day of performance in exchange for the discman. Sounds good Stan. He certainly doesn’t have any evil plans. Wink... he’s telling you he’s winking because one eye’s under an eyepatch. Naturally Stan has less than good intetions and ominously plots to frog soos.. which I absolutley love how they just call him frog soos, who postulates on multiverse theroy because he’s apparently been licking himself agian. Oh that soos... I always knew he was on something. Also while he dosen’t get a high from it I don’t doubt human soos also licks himself for unrelated reasons. 

Anyways the rest of the family are skpetical of Anne meeting stan at night.. which is fair. I wouldn’t want my nieces or nephews, and one of the nephews is around anne’s age, around stan alone for any length of time. I mean he’s fine with his own family but I know i’d find them in a child size armadillo suit having been fed questionable canned meats after having to dance for gawking yokels. Plus stan has resting “Call the police fan” so HOp Pop wants to just discuss it in the morning first before remotley trusting this guy. But anne impulsively decides to just sneak out when their asleep. More on that in a bit.  Naturally trusting the strange man she just met who presumibly traffics ladypugs in this reality and constnatly looks like he wants your wallet goes poorly as Stan traps Anne and plans to incase her in wax like the other exibits. The plantars realize anne is missing and rush in with Polly trying to face her fear and ending up freeing ah orrifying monster “This is way worse’ indeed. Meanwhile Stan is annoying anne who’s praying for the wax to get her in one of the best bits of the episode.. because of COURSE stan would talk inncoently to someone he’s kdinapped while eating canned beef. To me it’s another nice touch: While the caretaker IS more of a villian than stan, for obvious reasons, given he’s put a random person behind glass just for not buying things, dressed his own grandson up in a humilating wolf suit and had soos use a fucking boiler for his employee break room, it’s not a hgue stretch to say a pre-character development, i.e. pre dipper and mabel to convince him to be slightly better, Stan would kidnap a bunch of freaky wax creatures. It’s also why i’m okay Jason Ritter and Krystin Schall didn’t return. Their great and I woul’dve loved to have dipper and mabel back.. but the episode just dosen’t work with them in it even as a cameo, and they could easily show up in a followup later if they choose to bring this character back. Probably not but hey stranger things have happend.  Stan does however reveal something important: He got the discman from newtopia.. where a bunch of OTHER artifacts are. Thankfully before that information becomes useless to Anne, Sprig and Hop Pop show up to the rescue and Stan fights them thinking their cops as he dosen’t want to go back to frog jail. And even once he finds out their not, he still wants a new attraction because this is stan and again, as good as he is by series end, or at least marginally better, I still wouldn’t put it past him to put sentient creatures in wax. This however backfires as once Polly frees the creature above sprig and hop pop free the rest, and the giant throng of monsters drags Stan off, with blood popping up.. though he assures us it’s just wax so he could show up again. Probably not. He also offers htem 10 perecent, and goes up to 11.5 but that’s as far as we go. Goodbye again stan. I’ll miss you buddy. Seriously I absolutley loved the character and even with a shifter copy it was really nice to have him back for an episode.  The family carts Anne off and back at the campsight Anne bemoans not getting the skipman.. luckily Sprig grabbed it on their way out, because h’es a good friend, but Hop Pop and Pollly are annoyed at anne for once again recklesly endangering herself without considering them and forcing them to save her (As polly pefectly puts it I”m tired of facing my fears anne) And that’s why I saved that: this episode deconsturcts anne’s tendency to act before she reallyt hinks or consult anyone else and actually has the family confront her on it, though she does genuinely apologize so hopefully it’ll stick. But yeah now newtopia offers even more promise and anne offers hop pop an accidental laser to the eye vai the skipman to close out the episode.  Final Thoughts: As you can probably tell If reaking loved this one. Instead of just apping gravity falls, as I pointed it out i more felt like a gravity falls episode in miniture, mixed with Amphibia to still feel like it belonged in amphibia, and with Stan back just slightly more evil. Slightly. Alex Hirsch was as always a massive delight and it was a treat to have him back, and it was a really damn good note to close the road trip out on after some middling episodes, toadcatcher excluded. Not much else to say, it was really damn good, easily the seasno’s second best after toadcatcher.  Next Time:  MARCY. KEITH DAVID. Ants? Good times. Until then you can find more disney reviews under the disney tab on my blog including the entire season of amphibia thus far and season 3 of ducktales thus far. Until we meet again, courage. 

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter Two

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: yelling? panic attacks

Words: 1,392

Summary: Logan still has some bad associations.

They had, indeed, ended up as friends. Things were different than they originally were, for a while (for example, the flirting had seemed to be confined to their first meeting), but they’d somehow settled into the closet dynamic, more or less. It was odd, Logan realized, having such a nearly romantic relationship be… platonic.

He wasn’t mad about it, though. It was comfortable, talking to him. Nothing was weird when they were hanging out. They talked freely about intestines, the deep sea, the weirdest things you could find on the internet, art, sometimes, the best forms of explosions, the most efficient ways of murder… anything. Yet it was all still mixed in with something neither of them could quite understand.

Neither of them were quite sure what their relationship was.

But Remus had been able to pull Logan out of his shell. He still restrained himself from talking above a medium volume, but no one he knew really expected any different.

And one of the things that they discovered they loved was arguing.

Not in an aggressive way, but rather in a debate fashion, but less structured. They loved arguing about all the things you could do with science, even the ethics of it, sometimes. And a few times they’d started arguing about more trivial topics, such as ‘is slime completely gross or can it be helpful sometimes?’ They’d eventually decided, with Remus’s obsession with it, that despite it being a weird trend at one point, it can be used for… interesting pranks. He felt more alive when he was around Remus, more complete.

“Excuse me, Logan, but that ‘weird internet slang’ is incredibly useful for saying stuff in different ways, especially when normal words would be too serious for a situation.”

Remus sat cross-legged on the floor of Logan’s bedroom as his friend collected his phone and joined him.

“I have to disagree. Is alienating thousands of people ‘useful?’ I can get acronyms, but once they become something completely unrelated to what the acronym says it should be I don’t know what to think. With any of these slang terms, we have to acquire meanings from their most-used contexts, and that simply isn’t efficient when you’re trying to learn new words.”

“What do you do when you look stuff up in a dictionary? It gives you sample sentences.”

“But phrases such as ‘wig,’ and ‘slap,’ they don’t follow the normal rules of what I assume they should be. I still don’t fully understand what they mean, and as you’ve seen with my attempts at using flash cards, the definition and example alone doesn’t always help. You need repeated context, and again, it’s not efficient.”

“You learn it, that’s the point! And I know you’re good at learning, you just need to immerse yourself more.”

“That’s my point, though! Language was created to be understandable by a large group of people, and when you restrict that group to a generation, not everyone has access to information about the language! Not to mention many of the phrases don’t make any sense, especially the... what are they called? VSCO girl ones? They’re just- dumb sometimes! Sure use whatever words you like, but how are you supposed to nearly guess what ‘and I oop’ even means?!”

“‘And I oop’ is an ingenious term!”

“FALSEHOOD!”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified with what he’d just done. He scrunched himself up against the wall, hugging his stomach. He couldn’t breathe anymore. He’d fucked up. He’d managed so long and now he was going to start hurting people again, and Remus of all people. Remus, who cared, who tried to help, he couldn’t lose his best friend. Tears filled his eyes, and he pressed in on them, hoping that would make it go away. But he couldn’t talk, he shouldn’t be able to talk.

And it hurt. 

Like it used to.

He wanted to scream so badly, but it was so awful, he’d gotten a taste of letting those feelings free, for a moment, but it wasn’t-

It wasn’t anger. It was joy. He’d spent a moment simply reveling in joy. They were arguing, but grinning at each other, happy just to talk, whether it was debate-like or not.

But it was loud. And it was mean, and it was scary. He’d scared so many people in his life, and now he was scaring Remus, the one person he’d felt comfortable in all those feelings with. The one person he was desperate to love him, and he needed him, someone like him, and he’d driven him away and he was alone again, alone forever, he would never, ever get a boyfriend, or keep his friends, or have anyo-

“Please, Logan, it’s okay, please, you didn’t do anything wrong, just look at me, you’ll be okay.”

Remus’s hand brushed his arm and he flinched away, curling into a little ball on the floor. He wanted to lean back into his arms, to hear that it’s going to be okay in a quiet whisper. But it wasn’t.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. Do you want to do the breathing technique? Logan, please say something.”

He couldn’t manage anything but a whimper, trying to follow along with Remus’s numbers, but he held for too long, he couldn’t breathe-

“Logan, exhale, please, exhale,” he said, probably with concern in his eyes, but Logan’s were shut tight, and he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t know how it was so easy most of the time, it seemed like the most goddamn difficult thing.

“Exhale, I need you to...”

The voice faded out, all that was left was Logan and his mind. His throat, it hurt, it had been so loud, Remus was so loud, he needed it to stop hurting, he needed to be silent, he needed something, he needed someone, he needed Remu-

“LOGAN, BREATHE!”

He could see now, he was crying. His hands were pressed up against his chest, and his breath was still caught. It didn’t help that Remus’s presence made his heart skip a beat, even in the midst of all this. His friend was crying, a miserable expression on his face. He knew he’d hurt him, he tried to breathe but the air refused to go anywhere but in. He felt like he was going to pass out-

“Don’t make me- don’t make me do fucking CPR or something just so you’ll fucking exhale. You need, you need to say something if you won’t- won’t fucking breathe. I need you t- please, you have to breathe.”

“Re-”

“Remus-”

“Remus, Re-”

He said it over and over, again and again until he needed to inhale again. Remus’s eyes filled with bigger tears, and he collapsed into Logan’s chest. Sobs echoed against his body, and he could barely move, beginning to cry himself.

“Lo- what just happened? Did I do something? God, that, you scared me-”

He drew in another sharp breath, pulling away from Remus, trying to escape his grasp. His legs began to fidget again, he needed to hurt himself to stop this. He was awful, scary, miserable, and he hurt people and Remus would never stay, no one wanted to stay-

But Remus held on tight.

He didn’t leave, instead he just held tighter. Logan steadied his breaths for him, just for him, shaking in his arms but grateful, so grateful for the comfort.

“What happened?”

“I- I yelled at you.”

“...Your falsehood?”

He nodded into Remus’s shoulder, the other boy leaning back to look at him.

“You… you weren’t even angry.”

“I can’t- I shouldn’t yell.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone cares how loud we are. And I yell, you don’t mind that.”

“It’s… it’s because…”

“It’s because every time I’ve yelled, someone gets hurt. It happened this time, you said you were scared, but I can’t let anyone be scared of me, especially not you because I-”

“You help me. I… don’t know if I would’ve been able to calm down if you weren’t here.”

“...You don’t hurt me, Logan. You’re hurting.”

Remus leaned forward, nestling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. His face grew warm as he realized it was being squished up against his friend’s. His arms were still shaky as he gripped Remus’s torso back.

“And I don’t want you to ever have to feel like that again.”

[noona-clock]

The Risk - Part 2

Genre: Fighter!AU

Pairing: Park Seo Joon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 3,430

Well. That had certainly been an interesting evening.

Besides the fact you had served a group of seven almost-too-rowdy guys for two hours, you had received an extremely generous tip from one of those almost-too-rowdy guys.

And... a phone number.

You’d been working at this restaurant for two years, and while you had received a couple of phone numbers before, the giver had never actually asked you before leaving it.

He had also never been as good-looking as this Park Seo Joon guy.

Seriously, this guy was amazingly good-looking. You’d noticed it when you’d first gone to his table, of course, and he had seemed to only get more handsome as the evening went on.

And when he asked if he could leave his phone number?! You kind of felt like you were on a hidden camera prank show or something...

But being incredibly handsome and leaving very bountiful tips was all well and good. Did that mean you would actually contact him?

Since his table had been your last of the evening, you were able to take time on the bus ride home to really and truly think about it.

You certainly weren’t the type to call or text random guys if they gave you their phone numbers. If you did decide to contact Seo Joon, it would be a first.

Then again, you couldn’t remember a guy as handsome -- quite frankly, hot -- as Seo Joon giving you his number. To say you weren’t the least bit interested in him would be a lie. You couldn’t see a face like that and not be interested. Or at least physically attracted.

(You were both.)

Just before the bus arrived at your stop, you remembered one of the other guys at his table had said something at the very beginning of the night. They had been celebrating something, and he had specifically gestured to Seo Joon and called him a winner.

He had won... what was it again? An AMA championship? AMM? AAM? MAA?

The bus rolled to a stop, and with a sigh, you clutched the strap of your bag and stood up to get off.

Whatever it had been, he had won a championship, and they had been celebrating.

But... wait. Hadn’t that guy also kind of acted like he was surprised you didn’t know who Seo Joon was?

Well, there was only one thing you could do if that was the case: you had to Google him.

As soon as you unlocked the door to your apartment, hung your bag up in the entryway, and kicked off your shoes, you shuffled into your bedroom and collapsed onto your bed. You then wasted no time in sliding your phone out of your pocket and opening the Google app.

“Park... Seo... Joon,” you muttered to yourself as you typed his name in the search bar. “Go.”

The first result was a Wikipedia article, and your eyebrows raised.

Oh. There was a Wikipedia article about him? That was pretty legit, right?

You clicked on the link, your eyes scanning over the summary at the top of the page. “Park Seo Joon is the current World MMA Champion -- MMA, that’s it! He began his career in 2015 and quickly made his way to the number one ranked spot where he has remained ever since. Damn. Number one?”

So... in this MMA thing, he was the best? Out of everyone else?

Well, how many other people were there? And what exactly was MMA?

You opened up another search tab on Google and typed in MMA, though it didn’t take long for you to discern it was an acronym for Mixed Martial Arts.

Oh. So, he was a fighter.

Well, to be honest, that wasn’t exactly something to recommend him. You disliked violence of any kind, and the sight of blood made you feel incredibly faint.

You kept digging, however, because the whole thing had still piqued your curiosity.

On the official MMA organization website, you were able to find out that there were over 1,000 fighters around the world, and the last World Championship had been in Los Angeles... with over 50,000 people in attendance and over 1 million people watching on TV.

Holy...

You quickly navigated back to his Wikipedia page and scrolled down, scanning through his background and memorable moments in the ring, though your eyes instantly froze when they landed on a picture of him after winning one of his matches.

Because he was shirtless.

And...

Oh my god.

You... had never seen a better body in your entire life.

After realizing you were staring at your phone screen with your jaw hanging wide open, you blinked yourself out of your little trance and went back to Google one more time.

You clicked on the Images tab and began to scroll through all of his picture results.

And your eyes grew wider by the second.

Shirtless. Shirtless. Gold medal. Championship. Trophy. Shirtless. Gold Medal. Shirtless with gold medal. Trophy. Championship. Trophy. Trophy.

Holy shit.

So... this guy was definitely a big deal.

And you just had one question.

And you now felt bad for him. Whether or not he would admit it, he was a big deal, and most of the people in his life probably treated him that way. Based on his words, though, he would likely prefer to be treated like a normal, regular, non-championship-winning guy.

If you hadn’t been nosy and Googled him just now, he would still be a normal, regular, non-championship-winning guy to you.

So... if he wanted to be treated that way, then you would be the one to do it.

You ended up messaging back and forth until you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, and this pattern continued on for the next week. You would text Seo Joon the second you got off work, and you would keep texting until you had to force yourself to go to sleep.

You didn’t really talk about anything in particular, to be honest. He mainly asked you how your day went, and then the two of you would end up talking about something completely random like the best form of potato (which is clearly cut into long, thin strips and fried) or the movie you would forever connect to your childhood or what strange, nonsensical dreams you had the previous night.

Since you got home fairly late each night and were too exhausted to stay up past midnight, you simply hadn’t had time to delve into anything deeper. You were having fun talking to him, though, and you figured he must feel the same way since he always replied within minutes.

When your shift ended that Friday, you began your evening as you had the last five or six days: you got on the bus, found your seat, slid your phone out of your bag, and sent Seo Joon a text.

His next message, however, was less typical.

Once you’d gotten off the bus and fished into your bag for the key to your apartment, you sent Seo Joon a quick message letting him know you were home. He read the message almost immediately, but... he didn’t reply.

Your brow furrowed softly as you approached your front door, blindly trying to fit the key into the lock as your eyes still focused on your phone screen.

A phone call suddenly came through, and you almost jumped because you were so startled. But then you realized... it was Seo Joon?

Hesitantly, you answered the call and lifted your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” Your heart was now beating a mile a minute, and your stomach did a little flip when you heard him answer you back.

“Hey,” he said before quickly adding, “I know you said you don’t like talking on the phone, but I didn’t want to do this over text.”

“...Do what?”

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

Oh, god.

You quickly wracked your brain for your work schedule, and you almost let out an audible sigh of relief when you realized you were, indeed, free.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly.

“Would you wanna go out?”

“Yes,” you repeated without skipping a beat.

“Okay, great. We don’t have to keep talking on the phone.”

You broke out into a smile, a soft chuckle escaping through your lips. “Okay,” you answered. “But I appreciate that you wanted to ask me kind of but not really in person. Thank you.”

You could actually hear Seo Joon smile (which was a little weird since you hadn’t known you could hear a smile but whatever), and when he spoke, his grin was very apparent in his voice. “You’re welcome. You... don’t want to keep talking on the phone, do you?”

“It’s really nothing personal,” you assured him, realizing you were still just standing on your doormat with your key inside the lock... but you hadn’t actually turned it.

You snapped to attention suddenly, hastily unlocking your door and stepping inside your apartment.

“I’m just an introvert,” you continued. “And shy. I’d rather have time to process my thoughts and write a reply back to you so I don’t say something I’ll cringe about for the next forty years because I didn’t have time to think it through.”

“I can understand that,” Seo Joon laughed softly. “All right, I’ll hang up now.”

“Bye,” you said as you hung your bag up on the coat rack in your entryway.

You heard Seo Joon take a breath, and you waited to hear him say goodbye back... but then...

“Just so you know, it’s really nice to hear your voice. Okay, bye.”

Click.

And your heart exploded.

Not even a minute after Seo Joon had hung up, he had texted you, telling you he would take you to any restaurant you wanted -- all you had to do was name the place, and that’s where your date would be.

Of course, you had internally freaked out (in a good way) because he had called it a date and now there was no uncertainty. You hadn’t thought he was just asking you to hang out, but still. It was nice to know for sure.

You had sent him the name of your favorite pizza place, one you didn’t get a chance to go to that often because -- well, you didn’t get a chance to eat out that often. Your schedule and budget didn’t quite allow it. But you’d refrained from including those particular details in your message to him.

Seo Joon had offered to pick you up, but you ended up convincing him to just meet you there -- he had only agreed on the condition that he could take you home, and you had accepted easily enough.

So, the next evening, you found yourself arriving at the pizza place just a few minutes before your agreed-upon meeting time. When you walked in through the front door of the restaurant, you were prepared to greet the host and let him know you were waiting for someone... but Seo Joon was already sitting on one of the couches next to the front podium.

“Hey,” he greeted, his lips curving into a smile.

You never would have guessed that one single word -- a word as simple as ‘hey’ -- would knock the breath out of your lungs.

But when it came from someone as incredibly tall, handsome, and buff as Seo Joon... it wasn’t that surprising just one word from him left you breathless.

“Hi,” you replied after gulping down a lump of anxiety in your throat.

Before the two of you could exchange any more conversation, the host grabbed two menus and led you back to one corner of the restaurant, seating you at a small booth for two. You murmured your thanks, and Seo Joon waited until you slid into one side of the booth before taking his seat across from you.

“How are you?” Seo Joon asked just as you opened the menu.

Oh, right. That would have been polite to ask. Apparently, seeing Seo Joon in person again had turned your brain to mush.

“I’m fine,” you answered, glancing up at him with a small grin. Which... was a mistake. The glancing, not the grin. 

He was just so handsome, it was intimidating. You truly had no idea why he would be interested in you. Your looks were not model-worthy while his definitely were.

“How are you?” you asked, trying to avoid eye contact so you wouldn’t stammer over your words or say something idiotic.

“I’m great,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Just been training all week.”

“Oh? Do you have a... match? Coming up? Is that what they’re called?”

“No, not for about a month,” he told you with a tiny smirk.

“But I guess you always have to train,” you pointed out.

Seo Joon nodded, and you glanced up again to see he was now perusing the menu.

Oh, god. He was just so... so... so perfect. You had thought so earlier this week when you’d seen him at your restaurant, but you hadn’t really understood. You hadn’t imagined you would ever in a million years go on a date with him, so you hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it.

But now... sitting across from him... watching him read a freakin’ menu... 

All of a sudden, you felt the word vomit bubbling up, making its way up your throat until it spilled from your lips.

“I’m really sorry,” you blurted out. “About when I first texted you and said you were a big deal and all that and questioning why you would want to give me your number.”

Seo Joon’s brows raised slightly and he shifted his gaze to look at you.

“Oh,” he began, his voice soft and somewhat confused. “Oh, no, it’s -- it’s okay.”

“I had just Googled you,” you explained. “So, I read about all of your accomplishments, and you’re just, like, really handsome, so I was just wondering why you would be interested in me. But, to be honest, I would still have been questioning it even if you were like... a grocery store clerk or something.”

Seo Joon chuckled lightly and set down his menu so he could see you better. “What are you even talking about?” he asked with an expression of amusement.

“I’m talking about your face,” you answered bluntly. “Your face is really nice.”

Unexpectedly, Seo Joon’s cheeks began to turn pink, and he quickly looked away from you as his lips formed into a shy, adorable smile.

Oh, wow. You never imagined he could be this adorable. Plus, the fact he was acting so shy spurred on your more playful, teasing side, so you said, “I’m serious! You’re definitely, one-hundred-percent, the best-looking guy I’ve ever been out with.”

Seo Joon shook his head, and you assured him one more time that it was most certainly the truth.

“How about we talk about you?” he requested with a soft laugh. “I can’t just Google you and find out all about you.”

“This is true,” you replied with a soft sigh. “But even if you could Google me, the result would be, like... one link. I’m really quite average.”

Before Seo Joon could reply, your server appeared to take your drink orders, and you ended up ordering a large pepperoni pizza, as well.

“How about you let me be the judge of that?” Seo Joon said once the server had left to go place your order.

“All right,” you chuckled. “Well, you know I work at a restaurant. I’ve been working there for two years, ever since I started Grad School.”

“Grad School?” Seo Joon repeated with raised eyebrows. “What are you studying?”

“Creative Writing. I got my Bachelor’s degree in Literature, but then I realized I actually liked writing more than reading.”

Seo Joon shot you a look which clearly said you were wrong. “Two university degrees is not average,” he told you with a small shake of his head.

You simply hid a grin and lifted your shoulders into a shrug.

“I mean,” Seo Joon continued. “Some people don’t even have one college degree, and you’re getting another one? That’s a big deal.”

A soft chuckle escaped through your nose, but before you could say anything in reply, someone else approached your table. You thought it was the server again, but when you looked up, you realized... you had no idea who it was. It was some random lady and a young boy with a very awestruck look in his eyes.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you,” the lady began, looking incredibly guilty with a deeply furrowed brow. “My son is a huge fan, and he was wondering if he could...?”

Seo Joon quickly looked over at you, and you returned with a little nod and a grin.

This was weird.

You’d never in your life experienced this before, and it was weird. Kind of cool, actually, but still weird.

Seo Joon’s lips transformed into a smile then, and he reached for the pen and paper in the young boy’s hand. “Of course,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan,” the boy answered. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

“Just train hard and you can be,” Seo Joon answered as he scribbled his name on the piece of paper.

After he handed it back to the boy, the mother then held up her phone. “Can we get a picture, too?”

“Absolutely,” Seo Joon murmured, and the boy stepped up to him, turning around to face his mom.

The lady snapped a couple of pictures, and they both thanked Seo Joon profusely before the boy practically skipped back to his table.

“You just said getting two degrees was a big deal, but I’m not the one with fans,” you said quietly, a smirk tugging at one corner of your lips.

“Sorry,” Seo Joon replied with a guilty smile.

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t mind at all. Does... that happen a lot?”

“Not really a lot, but... maybe twice a week?

“Compared to me who has been asked a grand total of zero times for an autograph and a picture, that’s a lot,”  you laughed.

“Anyway,” Seo Joon grinned. “Back to you. You’re studying creative writing?”

“Yeah, so I won’t really be making much more money than I am now as a server, but...” 

“But you love it.”

A soft smile appeared on your lips, and you lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, I love it.”

“I can tell,” Seo Joon declared with a somewhat curious look.

“Is that so?”

He nodded, crossing his arms over the tabletop and leaning toward you. “I can tell by the look in your eyes. The way you look when you’re talking about it is the way I feel about fighting.”

Obviously, you were now blushing like mad because Seo Joon was looking right into your eyes. But you still managed to speak somewhat normally when you said, “So, you’re one of the lucky ones, then.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’re good at what you love to do.”

“Well,” he began after taking a bit of a deep breath. “It’s always come pretty easily to me. When I first stepped into a martial arts studio, it just felt... natural. So, I kept on doing it. I guess I really just love it because it’s easy... which makes me sound like an incredibly lazy loser.”

“It doesn’t,” you assured him with a laugh. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who truly loves hard work and making an effort at something. We all like things to be easy.”

Seo Joon looked at you for a moment, and it got to a point where you almost began to squirm in your seat under his gaze. But then he broke the silence and said, “You know what else is easy?”

“Hmm?” you hummed with raised eyebrows.

“Talking to you.”

You had no idea you needed to let out a breath, but that’s exactly what you did after he said that.

“Actually... I feel the same way,” you replied.

And you were a little surprised to discover that was true. You were shy, and meeting new people was always a bit of a struggle for you.

But talking to Seo Joon? You realized you weren’t trying as hard as you usually needed to. You didn’t feel quite so awkward or like you were saying the wrong thing.

It was... Well, you weren’t quite sure what it was. But you were willing to keep working to find out.

Part 3

[scripttorture]

Under the right conditions, is it possible to "brainwash" someone using torture? My character was raised by someone who wanted to turn him into their own weapon, so they would condition them to react a certain way, using what can be seen as torture methods. The history of this character will only be shown in flash backs but I want to get this right and show the terrible and lasting impact of that history.

Nope.

 Not even remotely possible. And the way this trope is used in most fiction it isn’t really survivable either.

 The best case outcome I can see for a situation like the one you’ve described is a severely physically disabled and severely traumatised adult who would probably be unable to care for their own needs or ‘pass’ as a normal member of society.

 I’m also… skeptical of some of the phrasing here. ‘Can be seen as torture methods’ sounds very much like plain ol’ torture to me. Whatever apologist material you’ve read I can assure you that in reality there is really very little grey area.

 Chances are what you thinking of is torture and has serious long term physical consequences. Like death.

 If you really do want to get this right then in my opinion you have a choice between keeping the torture or keeping the character as an effective fighter.

 I can’t tell you which is the better choice for your story. That is up to you.

 But if you want to be realistic and if you want to be respectful to survivors you can not have both.

 Neither option is right or wrong. It depends on what you think the most important part of this character is.

 If the torture seems to be the most important part then that’s going to mean accepting the effects on the character.

 A lifetime of torture starting at a young age is likely to result in death. When it doesn’t severe mental health problems and developmental delays are guaranteed. Long term physical disability is incredibly likely, but the exact form it would take depends on the abuse.

 Intellectual disability is also really really likely. Especially if the character is kept in solitary confinement, starved or food is withheld as a punishment.

 A character like this would be much less effective as a fighter then an ordinary person. They would learn how to fight much more slowly. Their strength and reflexes would be worse. They would be significantly hampered by chronic pain and whatever other forms of physical disability the abuse left them with.

 Essentially if a character like this reached adulthood they would probably require some form of regular support. This could range from health care worker visits every other evening to 24 hour care. It would take years of support, care and concerted effort for the character to be able to care for themselves and function as a member of their community. Even with all that support they might never be able to care for themselves.

 This is what I mean when I talk about the misconceptions we have around torture being harmful.

 Because we have all seen dozens of examples of this narrative. Where tortured characters are ‘forced’ to become warriors, assassins, ‘killing machines’.

 The reality is these people struggle to leave their homes. They struggle to feed themselves.

 And we turn around and paint them as dangerous for it, for daring to survive.

 It just isn’t cricket.

 Which brings me to option two. Trying to make the character into an effective and loyal fighter.

 That means getting rid of any physical abuse in the narrative because it is more likely to produce resistance to the ‘teacher’ character and is more likely to make a less effective fighter.

 When I say ‘any physical abuse’ I absolutely mean it. Spanking, going to bed without supper, standing or sitting in the corner for long periods, washing their mouth out with soap. Any physical punishment should be avoided in the story.

 Even if it’s a punishment that is normalised or portrayed as ‘less harmful’.

 Solitary confinement also definitely counts. The definition is less then 1-2 hours of human contact a day.

 There’s research on the effects of solitary confinement on young children, but studies on incarcerated teenagers in the US clearly show a larger negative effect in children compared to adults. If the effects on teenagers is severe enough to have a lasting impact on their ability to socialise then I think it’s safe to assume the impact on younger children would be devastating.

 Realistically speaking if you want a character to be capable of interacting with others in a passably ‘normal’ way then that character needs to have regular, positive interaction growing up.

 Abuse does not instil loyalty.

 In fact the evidence we have for torture pretty clearly shows that it increases resistance. It produces opposition, often lasting and strong opposition. This does not necessarily mean violent action; it means that survivors and witnesses tend to despise torturers and anyone they associate with torturers. And they act on those feelings in whatever way they can.

 Abuse does not aid learning or training.

 It does make students significantly more likely to die.

 If you want a character who is loyal and can fight well then realistically speaking the process you want to describe is more like a cult. I refer to these techniques as ‘ICURE’ partly because some of the literature does and partly because I feel like it’s a helpful acronym that reminds readers what the techniques are.

 ICURE means: Isolate, Control information, create Uncertainty, Repetition and Emotive arguments. Let me break that down and explain how it works.

 The group (or possibly just the abusive individual in your story) isolates the targetted character from people outside the group. This can mean physically imprisoning them or (more commonly) making it difficult for them to socialise with people outside the group.

 This can be done with punishments. But more often it’s achieved with manipulation rather then violence.

 If the target is encouraged to ‘convert’ others or persuade them to join the group that can severely limit the social interaction they have with people outside the group. It teaches people outside the group to avoid that person otherwise they’ll get a sermon.

 Another approach might be putting social or emotional penalties on interacting with people outside the group.

 For example, say this child character sees other children playing in a park and asks the teacher character if they can go and play.

 First the teacher might say that other children are awful and do they really want to go? They won’t enjoy it. Are they sure? Well the teacher has a lot of things to do today it would be very inconvenient. Are they really sure? They won’t have fun. Other children are bad and mean. Wouldn’t they rather do some more training like a good child or play a game with the teacher? Are they really really sure? Well alright fine they’ll go outside but only with the teacher and only for twenty minutes-

 This kind of interaction teaches children that trying to interact with people outside the group is not worth the effort.

 This is part of ‘Controlling information’. It means that anything the character learns is first filtered through the larger group. It’s a form of censorship which means the character is only exposed to information that supports the group/ideas the group wants the character to have.

 This is combined with creating uncertainty about beliefs the group wants the character to reject. Often this means only providing information that discredits their outside belief systems. It can also mean extended discussions about ‘why x is wrong’.

 Things that are designed to create uncertainty don’t have to be true or accurate. Often they’re not. But if the character has little contact with outside sources they may never find out the truth.

 Repetition is, what it says on the tin. It’s repeating this pattern of only giving the character information the group wants them to have, positive messages about the ideals the group wants to instil and negative messages about previous belief systems. Consistent repetition over a long period of time has an effect on our beliefs. Sometimes it even effects them when we know the information is wrong.

 Emotive arguments means- well keeping any discussion away from logic. Something like- going from ‘well I’m not sure this idea about our belief system lines up with what you taught me’ to the manipulative character asking why the target hates them/God/the entire group.

 This sort of environment through childhood would lead to an intensely isolated individual, almost entirely reliant on the teacher-character for all their emotional and social needs as well as physical survival.

 And that produces a character that’s likely to be intensely loyal.

 Because we are social animals and we need positive interaction. We will often to choose to go along with group-actions, even if we don’t like them or feel they’re wrong, if the alternative is being alone.

 Manipulative groups and individuals often go out of their way to persuade targetted people that the only options are them or complete isolation. It’s a horribly successful strategy.

 Rounding this off- I suggest you take a look at this masterpost on common torture apologia tropes.

 You should also read this post on researching torture and this one on the most common effects it has on adults.

 I can’t tell which of these two options is the correct one for your story.

 All I can really do is explain why the story, as it is right now, is unrealistic. And how that repeated fictional trope harms survivors and our understanding of torture.

 Where you go from here and how you use that information is up to you.

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[knittedkneil]

Production Paralysis and WIPs

Something that’s been on my mind quite a bit is something I like to call “Production Paralysis” (PP), my own acronym. Now, this is similar to procrastination, but in fact the reason I’m making this specification is because I find it to be the regularly occurring procrastination of specific tasks when otherwise completely available.

What does this look like?

For me, it’s like this. I get up in the morning on a saturday, world is calm, and I’m feeling alright. I’ve planned several tasks, and these are all projects I’d like to do. the first task, is something I’ve been planning to do for a little while- but whenever it’s time to do it. I freeze. I don’t get out of bed because I’m thinking about it, I’m psyching myself up for it- but for some reason it doesn’t happen.

Another example, I have a bag of knitting projects. I get through and finish some objects, a shawl, a hat- but something like a pair of socks. I see it. I pivot. I can’t put myself in the mindset to. Just. Do it. Comparatively it’s an easy task, but it’s like there’s a block.

This frustrates me, because I like to get things done. I feel go doing these tasks, but for some reason it’s not coming. Can it be related to other things? A manifestation of stress? Perhaps- but there are other tasks that are similar that I can accomplish.

There’s aren’t any particular deadlines, which do activate me but stress me the hell out.

So, I think about it. Even though it’s still something I struggle with, here are some things I meditate on:

This is about my emotions

Like procrastination, I need to draw the focus away from the idea that this is all a productivity problem. It’s not about being lazy. It’s not about an unwillingness to get things done.

It’s an emotional response.

Things that hit me in those moments are feelings, like being overwhelmed, or not feeling good enough, or that the process is going to be uncomfortable.

So I’m going break that down.

I feel overwhelmed when I think about this task. (In this case my poor orphaned projects)

Above are a couple longstanding projects. You’ll noticed that the pattern motifs are similar but I’ll get into that later. More importantly. I look at them, and I imagine all of the sheer work that needs to get done and I’m not sure if I can do it. So I avoid them. I keep them in my project bag- and when I’ve finished everything else it’s just one glance, then NEXT!

I’m overwhelmed because I feel Ike this stakes are so high. The duffle bag, I want it to be the center point of a book I’m trying to write. I want this to be proof that what I’m thinking about *works* well. That’s a lot for one little project to hold. The dark scarf, it’s a really big lace motif, it’s gotten easier to do as I’ve become comfortable but it’s harder to feel the progress on this, because I’m always in the thick of it and never really finishing the repeat (it’s 40 row repeat XD)

So how do I approach this? I’m going try and break it down.

For the lace motif, rather than thinking in large 40 row, I noticed the smallest scallops are only about 11 rows long. SO. I try my best to work in that unit. It’s less than 4 varying repeats of one his repeat. I give myself those little goal posts. Then, when you are working at it, there’s this really cool technique called the Pomodoro Method. That means you just break the task up into 25 minute increments with small increasing breaks in between. You get whatever you can get done in 25 minutes then you let it go no matter where you are in the process. Then you do it again for another 25 minutes until the task is done. Because the idea of 40 rows are still daunting to me, I do that for a couple of my little goal posts and my plan is to do that regularly each day until I finish!

Now the duffle, stakes are high. How do I get around that? This is harder for me because it’s a question of my worth, the value of my ideas, and a reflection of my skill. Which brings us to the next point.

I don’t (or the project doesn’t) feel good enough.

This is two pronged. My duffle bag requires of me much more skill than I currently have. I had to learn how to attach a zipper to a project for first time. I need to learn how to attach hardware, need to figure out a good pattern for straps- and on top of that I don’t even know if that duffle bag, the centerpiece of my book, is going to look good enough. Even as, I write this, I can feel those thoughts tighten my chest.

I’m catastrophising: What that means is that I’m letting my mind run with every bad outcome that can possibly be. It’s not going look great. It won’t be functional. No one will like it. I won’t like it. I’ll have wasted all of my time for nothing. What I need to do is stop. And question it. Do I really know those things to be true? Will those things actually happen? Am I allowing space for the best outcomes as well? What I have to remind myself is that the best outcome is just as likely as the worst. It really can turn out amazing. I need to give myself that space.

I’m being resistant to growth: There is so much to figure out. That’s just it. Can I do it? Will I be good enough to do it? So, I have to tell myself to be kind. To tell myself that every step is a journey, much like my post on sweaters. At the same time this is a different project in a lot of ways. It’s stretching me. That’s okay.

I’m not being compassionate to myself: This is one I catch myself doing a lot. A lot of my personal culture growing up. The idea that I could do better, translates in an unkind way in my head by default so I always find myself needing to change the conversation I have with myself in my head. Something that’s helped me is to ask myself. Would I say that to my sister? She and I are really close, and we come to each other when we are struggling- if it’s something I wouldn’t tell her because it was unkind. Then I shouldn’t be telling myself that either. So finishing projects might take longer than I expected. It may not turn out exactly the way I want. That’s okay. My efforts aren’t wasted. I am good enough, and it is good enough. Everything is beautiful in it’s own way.

What if the project really isn’t good enough? There’s no reason why you shouldn’t frog it because you aren’t happy. (Above is a beanie I had ALMOST finished but. I just ended up not liking how the ribbing didn’t quite gel with the rest of the hat) IT’S. A LOT OF PROGRESS. You say. Yeah. You can still start over. Which segways into the next point.

The process is going to be uncomfortable.

When I’m in the thick of things, I play this game where I pretend that if I just keep my head down and keep going down this same path it will magically get fixed without any effort.

Yeah. That doesn’t always happen.

You can try and fix it. I feel like real skill is not just learning the complicated stitches and patterns. It’s how to recover after you make a mistake. I learned a lot about brioche when I forgot to do a whole two decreases in the west knits shawl pattern. So, I frogged in that section and learned how to rebuild that section without having to frog all the rows in their entirety. The stitches were tight/looser than they should be but... still gorgeous

It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s yours. Something my aunt always tells me when she makes an error on her silk paintings or her water colors. “Now it’s artisan, because you can tell it was handmade” The mistake didn’t break the piece. It elevated it. This is your piece and if you wanted something that looked like every other thing you could have just bought it. You can riff it. If you didn’t do enough increases/decreases you can find ways to change it further to match the stitch counts you need. There’s always a way.

But, If you need to frog it. Do it. Yes, you’ll have to start all over again, yes you’ll need to do more work. But that effort was not wasted. You learned something important about this, and that’s exactly what it was there for.

I completely frogged the yoke on the top red sweater- which later became my Red Herring Sweater. The duffle bag and dark scarf— are still waiting for some love. The viney hat crown I finished (the only one out of this whole table) The blue faire isle scarf? Not wide enough. The cast on wasn’t thick enough. Frogged. That GORGEOUS Baby sweater? Took too long. The baby long outgrew my sizing- Frogged. But that’s all okay. I grew with each piece and I’ve been getting better and better.

What I’m trying to say is that growth doesn’t happen smoothly. It’ll get hard. I try to imagine the finished piece when it’s particularly in a hard spot, and I feel really discouraged. I remember why I started it in the first place. Maybe that could get me through. Find a way to get yourself in an emotional place that can work for you, may think about it differently OR don’t, maybe it’s not the thought but the process that counts. Remember in knitting everything is built one stitch at a time. You’re making fancy knots on string. Everything is just based on a knit, you know that, build from there.

Nothing is too hard. It just takes patience, time, and commitment.

Thanks for sitting with me, as I break this down. This post is a lot for me, as I find a way to pick up those needles and finish those resting projects. If you like my long form posts, there may be couple more on my blog— and a couple more on the way. Things kind of float in my head that need this kind of gestation to completely get it. I also have instagram! Same username! For all my links you can go to knittedkneil.com/links

This was the last project I finished :) I’m really REALLY proud of it, and I’ll try to remember this feeling for when things get hard.

[spideyspoods]

Deception

Pairing: Peter Parker X F!Villain!Reader

A/N: Screw tumblr mobile for deleting my fic (again)!!!! You’ll probably notice that this seems similar to @marvelsswansong‘s series Kalopsia (would recommend) and I’m sorry about that, but it happened to be purely coincidental and we came to the conclusion that it was okay to post anyways, but I made sure to add a disclaimer anyways :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Manipulation and a bit of angst. Far From Home spoilers!

Masterlist!

The class split up into their own groups, ready to explore everything Venice had to offer. Originally, Peter planned on sightseeing with Ned until he fell for Betty in what seemed like an instant. Unfortunately for Peter, he had no backup plan. He could either walk around aimlessly, pretending to be busy or muster enough courage to join Y/N L/N and her friends. It’s not like the latter was impossible, it was just complicated.

They’ve known each other since the very first day of high school and it seemed to be perfect. From the instant they talked, both of them knew that their friendship was there to last. She had stuck with him through the highs and lows; hell, she even knew about his biggest secret. Turns out hiding the fact that you’re some sort of superhero was hard to keep from your best friend.

So why was he nervous? Why did he feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest? He gripped onto the strap of his backpack hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Peter wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he might have a small crush on her. Sometimes, she would talk or act in a certain way to make it look like she felt the same way as he did. “Hey, Parker!” a melodic voice called out, taking him out of his racing thoughts. His eyes shot up to see the very same girl in the center of a few classmates waving in her direction, “Tell these idiots that I’m not the one who crashed into Flash’s car!” He laughed, inching his way closer towards the small crowd. He had remembered that day all too well. “Seems like I have a video that says otherwise.” Y/N stared him down, disappointed in him not covering for her while he shrugged.

The water trembled and began to form erratic waves that bashed against the wooden docks. Peter felt chills run down his spine and made eye contact with her, to which she understood. A second later, a geyser shot up to take the form of a man made of water. “Come on, let’s move!” Y/N pointed towards a closed in area, pushing people away from the scene. She waited for everyone to follow, before turning to see a green ray blast through the monster. Y/N smiled, shutting the doors.

---

The class was dismissed, heading back to their small hotel rooms for the night. Y/N dried the ends of her hair while chatting with Ned and Peter. “I still don’t understand how you were so calm during that whole Mysterio thing.”

“Hidden talent. I’m just a calm person.” Y/N folded the towel, and looked to Peter who seemed to be somewhere else. “Earth to Parker, you doing okay?” “Hey, give him a break. He just fought a water demon, Y/N.” Peter shook his head, “Yeah, yeah I’m alright. I just can’t believe I’m one day into vacation and this happens.”

“Be proud of yourself, Parker. It was kind of cool,” Y/N trailed off, smirking. Peter’s cheeks flushed, while Ned watched the two of them with a knowing look. Y/N broke off the eye contact and coughed, “Well I need to get going before Mr. Harrington comes for me. See you later.”

Y/N turned around and turned the corner, still hearing Ned’s voice. “Dude she likes you!” While it was true, she couldn’t let her feelings get the best of her. The door to her room creaked open, Betty already sleeping peacefully. The phone in her pocket vibrated and she picked it up.

about to meet him. he ask any questions?

Y/N quickly typed a reply back, none. get him it’s almost showtime.

---

The following day, everyone packed up and found a black charter bus waiting for them. Peter sighed, knowing the reason behind the sudden change. Y/N stopped next to him, looking for him to speak. “I think Nick Fury hijacked our vacation.” Her eyes bulged out of her head, practically whisper yelling. “Wait you met Fury? You better tell me everything, we have nine hours to kill.”

Y/N took the window seat while Peter sat right next to her. “Well I met Mysterio, apparently his name is actually Quentin.” She stifled a laugh which was met with a playful grin. “Sorry, but who names their kid Quentin?”

He continued to explain everything from the elementals to his new mission in Prague. “Also Fury gave me this gift. Well it’s actually from Tony, but he gave it to Fury who gave it to me-” he continued to ramble, before calming himself down. He pulled out a wooden glasses case and he opened it carefully. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, realizing what it was. He slipped them on, hearing a computerized voice. “Hello, Peter. My name is EDITH which stands for ‘Even Dead, I’m the Hero. Tony liked his acronyms.”

“Yeah, he did.” his voice faint, sadness panged his face. Y/N looked away, focusing on the real task at hand. She would have to wait for the next pit stop, seeing as if EDITH could look right through her phone if it was on.

“Y/N remember. We’re in it for the long game.”

---

Two hours later, they arrived to their rest stop. Everyone practically ran to the bathrooms, while Y/N turned to the left. She stood in a corner, frantically typing on her phone.

He has EDITH and explained everything.

Y/N pushed open the door, to reveal a small wooden room with a pool table. Her eyes darted to Peter with his pants down, in front of a tall European lady who stood still and intimidating. “Y/N! I promise, this isn’t what it looks like!” Her eyes welled with tears and it took everything in her to keep them from streaming. “Well it seems pretty clear from where I’m standing, Parker.” She turned right around, making sure that the door shut loudly. Y/N wiped the tears away, stomping back to the bus and into a seat as far away from him as possible. She didn’t know why she felt jealous or why she was this angry. Peter was her best friend, and they were in no means together on any term. Yet, it felt like it was an unspoken rule between them. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, she thought to herself. Her phone chimed one more time.

Perfect. Don’t let your feelings get in the way.

But it was too late.

---

Y/N had iced Peter out completely. It was better this way, as she knew what would happen in a matter of days. He had tried so hard to talk to her, only for her to walk away or find someone else to talk to. Ned was too lovesick to offer any genuine advice while MJ could have cared less. He had nowhere else to turn to aside from his Aunt May. She wanted more than anything to see the two together ever since they had met, even going out of her way to drop hints to the two kids. His phone continued to ring, before being sent to voicemail. He had almost forgotten about time zones.

---

They arrived to the empty opera house, a few minutes before curtain. His annoyed classmates found their seats, Peter scanning for Y/N in hopes to apologize. He stopped Ned at the door, “Hey where is she?”

“Oh she’s still not feeling well. You messed up big time.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know, I was trying to apologize to her but-”

Parker, are you in position? Fury asked. “No.” Ned furrowed his brows as Peter muted his mic. “I gotta go.”

After a grueling fight with the fire elemental, Peter felt drained. Quentin’s eyes fluttered awake before slowly bringing himself to his feet. “Come on, kid. I need a drink.” He staggered to a bar, detaching his cape. “I’m underage!”

---

“I can tell something’s distracting you, kid. What is it?” Peter sipped on what seemed to be his third lemonade of the night. “It’s just that I had this chance with this girl and I kind of blew it.”

“How so?” Quentin took another sip of his drink, resting a bruised arm on the wooden bar. “I’ve known her for a long time and while I was trying on this suit, she walked in and thought something else was happening. Even though it wasn’t, she wouldn’t listen to me!” He paused, lowering his head “I was going to ask her out tonight, too. She’s been ignoring me and that whole mission thing, it’s kind of a mess.”

“You’re right, you did blow it. Well what’s her name?” He chugged the amber liquid in his glass, waiting for him to speak. “Her name is Y/N.”

Quentin’s brows shot up and he drew back. He swore he could have felt his heart stop for a minute. Damn it. “I’m sorry to hear that, Peter. You’re a nice guy, and I think she’ll come around. Just give her some time.” He stated, hoping that he didn’t hear the shakiness in his voice. At that moment, a bartender handed Peter back the glasses which he didn’t even notice were gone.

“Those were just sitting on the ground?”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“Well try them on!” Peter reluctantly put the glasses on his face, looking back with a little smile. He tried to gage an emotion from the man sitting across from him, but his face was unreadable. “Can I be honest?” Peter nodded. “They look a little dumb.” With a frown, he took them off and handed them to Quentin. “Try them on.”

“I can’t.”

“Try them!” He pushed them up on the bridge of his nose, raising one eyebrow. Peter began to see Tony in him; someone he could trust. “For the next Tony Stark, I trust you.” he muttered.

“What?”

He repeated the same thing, a bit more confident. “Maybe Mr. Stark gave them to me so I can choose who to give it to.”

“Peter, come on. Be serious.” Peter took back the glasses and tapped the side, “Hey, EDITH. Transfer all control to Quentin Beck.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m doing the right thing.”

Any transfer will require confirmation.

“Stark gave you the glasses!”

“Stark gave me a choice, it’s my choice to make and I’m going to make it. Look, you’re a soldier! You stopped the elementals, you saved my life, you saved the world! He’d want you to have them.”

Awaiting confirmation.

“Confirm.”

Knowing that the kid was already too stubborn, Quentin reluctantly took them into his hands. “Thank you, it’s an honor. Now go and enjoy your vacation.” With one last smile, Peter collected his things and went out the door.

---

Y/N neatly folded her clothes back into her suitcase, zipping it up and setting it near the door. She huffed, just wanting to get this whole ordeal over with. The ornate hotel room filled with glimmering decorations and beautiful furniture felt empty, but she shook it off. She knew that she shouldn’t have gotten attached, everyone warned her but she did anyways. The silk curtains billowed in the wind and as Y/N went to close the window, she noticed two familiar figures with a projector piece. Peter and MJ. Shit.

Her phone chimed, a message coming from exactly who she thought it would be.

Got EDITH, meet me at the base. you and i have a lot to talk about.

Y/N bolted down the marble stairs and practically burst through the doors. She started to run, only seeing the faint light of the streetlamps. Minutes later, she heard someone call out her name. “Y/N!” Peter. He stopped her by holding her shoulders, making her face him. His brown eyes were filled with guilt and worry. “I’m so sorry, but you have to listen to me. Wait, I thought you were sick?” A part of her wanted to forgive him; to make everything go back to normal. Distancing herself seemed like the easiest way, but no one told her that it was the most painful way too.

“You’re right, I am sick” she snapped, wriggling out of his grasp. “Sick of you. I have to go.” Her words laced with venom unlike any other rang through his mind as she walked away without looking back.

---

Y/N took a deep breath before opening the doors. She had walked in the midst of their test run. Cloaked drones hovered, playing out a sequence. Quentin had taken notice of her entrance, making them pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Dad,” a bitter tone to her voice, “what do you need this time?”

“I thought we were on the same page. What was the one thing I told you not to do?” He crossed his arms, mirroring his daughter’s movements.

“Let my feelings get in the way.”

“Now imagine hearing that your target is head over heels for your own daughter. Crazy, right?” He looked down to her, eye contact unwavering.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Her mind drifting to the fight not even moments ago. “He told me everything that happened between the both of you. You’re making this harder for all of us, Y/N. You know, you’re just like your mother. You both let your feelings get the best of you.”

“Sure that I didn’t get it from you?” She stepped past him, only for him to grip onto her forearm. “Y/N you have to understand, I didn’t want to hurt him. Now you’ve left me no choice.”

“What do you mean? We agreed to leave him out of this!” Her voice rising.

He let out a wry laugh, turning away just to look back at her. “Were you not going to tell me that he knew? A projector is missing and both know who has it.” Of course he knew, she never managed to get anything past him.

“Dad, please” she pleaded. Deep down, she felt like a fool. This would have been avoidable, after all. Quentin’s eyes softened, and he pulled her in for a hug. “You know that I only want what’s best for you, right? In fact, I’ve got a brilliant idea and I can’t do it without you.” Her father’s demeanor changed under a split second, and she never knew what was going on in his head. An illusion of his own, she would tell herself. It looked like he was so wrapped up in fooling others with disguises and holograms that he forgot who he truly was. Her father wasn’t always like this, it only started to show years back when he let jealousy dictate his every move.

“What are we making this time?”

“Something tailored for the kid. Maybe these emotions had a silver lining, you know everything that he’s terrified of, right?”

Y/N hated that she continued to fight for him, knowing how many lives he had thrown away, but early on she realized there was no other way out. Quentin’s assistants followed him into the lab to get started on Peter’s nightmare. Y/N lagged behind, looking to the surveillance of Peter finding the drone.

I’m sorry.

--

thank you for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated, but not required! my requests and taglist are open, both links are in my desc!

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[theramseyloft]

Hi! I'm looking into pigeons as a pet, and I'm interested in training them and actually playing with them. I have parrots (conures and budgies mostly) What would you recommend? And what are the biggest differences between parrots and pigeons? I know pigeons can't climb and that they need grit. Can they still eat fruit and veggies?

Parrots are incredibly physically dangerous for pigeons.

Like: Do not under any circumstance allow them to be in the same room dangerous.

Parrots can break the bones of a pigeon by accident, and the dust pigeons produce gum up the lungs of parrots.

If the parrots are human social, then getting a new smart bird that can’t be housed near your resident smart birds and needs some amount of your time every day to itself will feel, to your parrots, like you are suddenly ignoring them for no reason, and it will spark some behavioral problems that will scare the pigeon.

So I do not recommend any one with any species of psitticine add any species of columbid to their house hold, unless the columbids are going in a loft outside.

Buut, that arrangement means that they can’t be household companions, by definition.

For people trying to choose between Pigeon or some psitticine species,  Or for some one who is used to caring for psitticines considering whether or not they want to try something different with out sacrificing the intelligence and bonding potential:

Pigeons and parrots are so drastically physiologically and socially different from each other that there is absolutely no cross over what so ever.

They can’t use the same type of enclosure, they can’t eat the same diet, their social structures are completely different, even their intelligence is completely different, despite both being literally on level ground with a 5 year old human child.

Parrot cages are designed around displaying a bird that stands upright and can climb.

Pigeons forage on the ground and need WAY more floor space than height.

Pigeons can’t climb, fly straight up, or even comfortably stand on a round perch. They take off at a 45 degree angle and have to spiral to get up high in a tight space.

They cannot tolerate all the toys parrots need, not only because they physically cannot manipulate them and are instinctively startled by bright oranges, reds, and yellows, but because pigeons need as clear and uncluttered a flight space as possible.

So a pigeon in a parrot cage physically cannot get off the floor, no matter how much height you give them, and is both physically trapped and severely psychologically distressed by what parrots consider vital enrichment.

If they must be caged singly, a dog crate with flat perches is ideal for a pigeon, provided that the bird is allowed frequent flight time.

Parrots need a huge variety of fruits, nuts, nectar, greens, and veggies.

Pigeons are strict seed eaters. They literally are not physically capable of digesting ANYthing else. They get 0 benefit from greens, fruit, vegitable flesh, leaves, stems, or tubers, and will starve on a full stomache if you give those to them. 

Gonna repeat myself here because veterinarians that care for birds either learn based on parrots and finches or on chickens (Depending on whether they took the exotics or livestock rout). Their advice to vary the base diet of a pigeon away from seeds is given in error based off of two COMPLETELY different physiologies and WILL make recovery impossible for a malnourished bird and malnourish a healthy bird because Pigeons literally lack the physiological equipment to process anything other than embryonic plant tissue.

Pigeons cannot detect sweetness, so they literally do not even get the yummy treat benefit of fruit. 

Please, DO NOT even “treat” pigeons with non-seed items.

Parrots are mechanical problem solvers and sound mimics, much like many of the corvids.

Pigeons are not physically capable of much in the way of mechanical manipulation, so they physically cannot manupulate the toys designed for parrots.

Their foraging is exclusively strolling along the ground and picking up fallen seed.

 Parrot flocks are pretty much just a huge crowd of birds all commuting in the same direction. Individuals do what ever they are going to do independent of the flock as a whole.

Pigeon flocks are uniquely cooperative, tight knit family units that vote on the fly on everything they do. They are social learning pattern mappers, actively, directly instructed by their fathers once they wean on both foraging and fitting into the social dynamic of their flock.

Parrot enrichment is thus mostly mechanical and designed for individuals. Puzzles to manipulate, brightly colored fruit like things to find that are hard and pleasant to stim on by biting.

Pigeon enrichment can be forage based, nest building based, or social based, with social interaction being the most vital of the three.

Pure foraging with no social interaction involves a box filled with sand, straw, or both with some favorite seeds like safflower or parakeet seed scattered in there for them to find.

Nesting enrichment is just straw, or Q-tips with the tips cut off and a place for the bird to put them.

Unlike parrots, Pigeons can recognize themselves in mirrors and their play with their reflection is more of a human like fascination with their own appearance than yelling at or trying to court what they mistake for another bird.

Pigeons are pattern mappers that learn socially both through observation and direct instruction.

And their pattern mapping is not exclusively visual. 

They pick up on auditory patterns, patterns of behavior and the cross over between the two just as easily as they pick up on visual patterns of geographical lay out.

When I describe humans as learning exactly like a human child, I mean that very literally.

Pigeons are capable of high level cognition. https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2009/…/090212141143.htm

To the extent that they understand the concepts of space and time! https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2017/…/171204144805.htm

They are self-aware enough to distinguish themselves from other pigeons, able to recognize themselves in photos, video, and mirrors AND differentiate between the three. https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2008/…/080613145535.htm

Their brains are wired SHOCKINGLY similarly to ours: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2013/…/130717095336.htm

They categorize things and learn the equivalent of words the same way human toddlers do!

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2014/…/140402095107.htm https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2015/…/150204184447.htm

They can even learn to read written language well enough to differentiate between a real word and an acronym with the same number of letters.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2016/…/160919111535.htm

They are pattern mapping social learners.  Exactly like we are!

They can literally learn to understand both spoken AND written human language, and literally all it takes is talking to a pigeon as if it is a nonverbal human toddler who does not know that word yet to be able to teach them to understand object words, action words, emotion words, names, and locations.

Pigeons are pets you can literally communicate to in your native language.

The last two years of my research combining what was learned in the links listed above has proven that pigeons can not only demonstrably learn to understand spoken language, but are smart and socially conscious enough to learn to comprehend the concept of consent and to give or deny it to a basic degree of genuinely informed.

The last difference between Parrots and Pigeons is that Pigeons are fully, genuinely Domsticated, where as Parrots are only Tamed.

There is a HUGE difference between Tame and Domesticated. 

A “Tamed” animal is an individual acclimated to human contact.

There is no physiological difference between a captive bred parrot and a wild caught one.

Because the larger Psitticine species can live into their 60s or 80s and take so long to reach sexual maturity, the slow passing of their generations and the relatively brief time they have been bred for the pet market means that we literally have not had the time to make any really big strides towards genuinely domesticating them.

The smaller species like Tiels and Budgies and parrotlets have made more progress in that direction because of their shorter life spans, faster maturations, and smaller, more manageable size, but they are still nowhere NEAR truly domesticated, like chickens, Pigeons, and ducks are.

“Domesticated” specifies a living thing bred specifically to be adapted to human care. 

There are, by definition, drastic physiological differences between a domesticated animal and its wild ancestor: to the extent that most domestic animals are considered to have become a separate species from their wild ancestor.

For example, no matter how many different breeds of dog you start with or how many generations you allow them to breed, no dog mated to any other dog will ever throw a Wolf puppy.

The process of domestication works through the directed loss of traits.

Neotenous features develop through breeding for the animal to keep the fearless curiosity of a baby: To fail to develop the caution a wild animal would need to avoid predation or conflict. Because the human care taker will be protecting them from those, removing the need for the animal to develop them and making it easier to form a trusting bond with the human care taker.

Confinement tolerance develops through lack of available space. Most individual humans simply do not have enough territory to match the natural range of most animals we have domesticated. Those that survived the stress of confinement to reproduce in that drastically smaller territory lose the stamina they need to make the long journeys their wild ancestors needed to keep fed.

Change in the size of territory changes the fuel requirements of the animal being domesticated. And humans have a limited variety of food available compared to what the animal’s native environment provides. Between those two things, a domesticated animal’s digestive system changes slightly with each generation until it adapts to get its altered fuel needs met out of the available variety of food.

The completely domesticated animal is fearlessly trusting of humans, no longer balloons into obesity in drastically confined space compared to what the wild ancestor would maintain, and does not suffer the malnutrition their wild ancestors would on their modified diet.

Some species are more easily domesticated than others.

Stress, confinement, temperature, humidity, and dietary changes too drastically different from those natural to an animal will kill the captive population before they have a chance to breed.

Dogs were a very natural fit with early humans. We were both nomadic pack hunters with high stamina over long distances.

When we settled into stationary settlements and started growing food, it was mostly grain, which is the natural diet of chickens, pigeons, and rodents.

Rodents and birds attracted cats, and making cats welcome preserved our food stores.

Chickens keep pretty small territories, relative to other bird species, they are non-migratory opportunistic breeders, and they nest on the ground near the food source that they naturally share with us. Their naturally smaller territories meant they were not likely to wander very far from safe nesting grounds, and they bred as long as food was available. So all we had to do to domesticate them was keep food constantly available make them well protected nesting places so that they would breed more rapidly and a smaller plot of land could support a larger flock.

Pigeons ancestors, the rock dove, primarily eat grain, live in extended family groups that forage cooperatively as far outside their territory as necessary to keep fed, and return reliably to a specific family nesting site: Exactly like humans, once we started living in stationary settlements.

Once Humans settled into stationary dwellings, Rock Doves fit as comfortably with us as dogs, and their short maturation period and high reproductive pace made them EASY to adapt that very little bit more they needed to be a more perfect fit.

We have been domesticating pigeons, a species whose needs already fit comfortably with our own, since humans stopped being nomadic and started our first settlements.

We have had a long, LONG time to work with pigeons.

WAY longer than we have had with parrots;

Started on what amounts to domestication Easy Mode.

Of the two, the pigeons are absurdly easier to care for, bond with, and train than Parrots.