#and like conceptually i know 'learning' is like. not only committing things to memory but also being able to engage with it which

[aropride]

i really dont understand studying at all like genuinely i don't know what it is . i know about "taking notes" and "reading the textbook" and that's it . quizlet doesn't do shit for me because i don't know what to. do. with the cards. look at them ? am i supposed to just look at them . No one bothered teaching me actual skills bc i got good grades when i was 8 and now i am so hopelessly lost . why did no one think to teach me this for when stuff got harder than four plus three

[soulprofitis]

TRUTH + A full and unreserved dissection of Emet-Selch.

Truth Serum (Reply continues under the cut)

"When asked a question like this, one has to wonder who might want to know?" He chuckles, the body of a constellation in his smile. "It's entertaining to think the man himself might wonder if he's lost my good opinion. For others to ask, though, I can't be certain why my 'dissection,' a most telling choice of words, would be necessary. I am biased, I must admit. Many others might tell you of a commitment to our Star, good works accomplished through power of will, and his undying loyalty. Or, as I have learned, how these virtues might be capable of harm. In an older world, the one I knew, I would not have conceptualized this as a possibility."

What might he have done in that position, in a place without? A question with no answer. What happens is what happens and Hythlodaeus does not regret his own choice.

"As a sacrifice to Zodiark, I can at least say that the purpose⁠—Saving our world, though temporarily⁠—was accomplished only through the strength of those I once considered friends. The ones I knew, though, are not the same as they once were. Hades⁠— Emet-Selch is no different."

He might frown, like a rushing tide, like a brook falling over rocks in a stream. The Sea is different, so different from Etheirys. Both memory and emotion dictate form.

"I cannot say how I feel about the entirety. Believe it or not, the lifetimes one misses in over twelve thousand years makes it difficult to ascertain truths. There is so much. So much I can easily say that I would not do, not as myself, not how I exist now. So much that I cannot forgive as it is not mine to forgive. It never will be and, no matter how much I wish that I could heal some of the hurts he has inflicted upon the shards of others that I love, upon the reflections of my home, I am still. Useless. Half-dead, fully dead, now, my feelings about his actions will never help those who have suffered."

Hythlodaeus sighs as one who can no longer breathe, long as a song and silent as the grave.

"No, however much I regret what I could not stop, I am forbidden to lie, hm? I will not say that I am unhappy. This existence, if you can call it one, might last an eternity, might go on until the bit of Azem I hold dearest returns and after." A tearful smile. His voice doesn't break like it might when someone cries, but the sound is painful to the ears all the same. "I am beyond grateful he is here. That whatever remains of the person I knew and all that has been created since still... It's awful to say. Still missed me. Selfish, yes? I am dead, though, so who can complain?" He laughs. "I have had very few in my life who I loved as much as Hades. If things will ever be the same, I doubt. But I wouldn't give him up either. It's terribly grey, isn't it? Hardly a clear truth for you, and for that I apologize. There is much I will never understand about this new reality until I see it for myself, if I ever do. Until then, I am prepared to be patient. And to listen. I have a feeling that I will do much of both in the timeless moments to come. Oh—"

He grins bright as a sunbeam.

"He's rather short, isn't he? Small and slouchy. And that awful coat, ugh. He can't possibly prepare for the earful I'm going to give him—"

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Sacrifice

Character: Armitage Hux

Pairing: Armitage Hux x RebelFem!Reader

Inspired by: Hurt - Christina Aguilera

Warnings: Little Fluff. Mentions of Death. Torture. Mentions of blood. Angst. All Angst. 

Author’s Note: Hi!! This fanfic is special ‘cause I wrote this a moment later than I saw a conceptual art of The Rise Of Skywalker.

I felt that Hux deserves more. And the idea that he could handle a lightsaber was… Whoa. Why not?

Thanks you again for all your replies. That means so much. XOXO

                                                 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, to have just one more chance to look into your eyes and see you looking back…”

Kira tried to get rid off those stormtroopers but to no avail. She tried to escape them through the wide and busy streets of Kijimi but they always seemed to be one step ahead. She walked trying to lose herself among the people and a few meters before reaching the desired entrance that would take her away from the ghost with green eyes that would not stop chasing her even in her dreams, that trooper with the red badge on her shoulder called her "garbage" before hit her on the head. The brown-haired young woman fell to the ground with a delicacy worthy of a dancer, as if she knew she would be watching her.

The darkness took over her brain and she imagined in a place where she did not have to escape and could have him by her side.

The group of men surrounded her as Kylo Ren yelled that they must hurry back to the destroyer.

Kira was on a mission outside the Resistance: Her own mission

She had joined her a few years ago when he decided to stop hanging around and start doing something for the galaxy.

And if there was something she regretted in all this, it was having seen him walk among the enormous number of bodies in that small town that she had to suffer at the hands of the empire, as if it were a parade. His expression was one of contempt and hatred, but Kira could tell that there was some guilt in those disinterested features, as if nothing mattered in the least.

As if life was worth nothing.

She regretted not being strong enough to hate him, remembering the whole scene of her but he had highlighted his presence in such a way that she was etched on her head.

That was her mission.

She wanted to rescue the little humanity that she sensed that he was left inside him.

The first thing she heard when she was conscious was the muffled voice from Ren's helmet screaming for someone to warn her as soon as her scavenger was found.

The footsteps moving away, the sound of the destroyer's security doors closing rapidly, and her complete silence caused her to open her eyes. She found herself in that "torture room" that she had told him so much about and that she could feel the panic with her voice at the idea of ​​her ending up there inside her.

Still, Kira was not afraid.

She knew it was a matter of time before that dark knight came to save her. Or at least to let go of her so that she could escape.

She didn't have to wait long, after a few minutes that seemed endless, the door opened again and she closed her eyes. General Hux looked to the sides, not raising suspicions among his troopers and hoping that the shot the rebel had given him was enough to make his alibi work. Otherwise that would be in vain.

- You have to go. Now - The fit of her hands disappeared and Kira automatically jumped into Hux's arms, who responded by holding her against his as if living depended on it. She breathed in that sweet vanilla scent that he always remembered and tried to memorize it in his head. If all this went well, he could see her again. But something inside him told her that it would be the last time he would hold her in his arms. The last time they had seen each other they had almost been discovered, but that had been a long time ago - Listen to me, you must go.

- Only if you come with me.

Hux turned away from her and wished he could run, escape from that nightmare he had been living in and start from scratch. I brush a lock of black hair from the face of the woman he had learned to love from a distance and gently tuck it behind her ear. Kira leaned her face against his hand and enjoyed the contact. She felt so full with him there that she believed it to be an illusion that in minutes she would vanish.

- I can not. They must see me here.

- They'll kill you if you stay here.

- They don't even suspect that it happens with me - He moved away to look at her back and see that there was still no one. He took Kira's face in her hands and kissed her without regret. He cared very little to be seen, even more so knowing that the Empire was falling. I enjoy that contact at the same time that Kira wrapped her arms around her neck and deepened that kiss. She had missed him so much that she believed him inhuman. They separated for lack of air and she raised her hand to run her hand through that red hair that she loved so much, just to ruffle it a bit - Let me do my job. I'll get this over with and I promise I'll meet you.

- I do not want to lose you.

- Me too, darling. Me too - He hugged her again and concentrated on them, on the few memories he had of her: That first meeting on Yavin IV where he grumbled something about Ren's damn stubbornness and had seen her playing with children of different species . The children laughed and hugged her, and by that moment, Hux had realized that he had forgotten what he was supposed to do there. She had managed to captivate him. - We will go to that place you love so much when this is over. And I'll take care of you for the rest of my life.

- Come with me - Kira extended his hand towards him and Armitage took a step away, feeling how the tear-filled gaze of his little warrior pierced him as if it were a lightsaber that burned him without even touching him - Please ...

- I always knew there was something wrong with you, Hux - The two of them parted just as Kylo Ren's voice filled the hall and Kira tried to pull Hux towards her ship. It was useless - Here's the damn spy.

It was not a question and Armitage knew it very well. If they wanted to get out of there at least he had to knock it out to give the Resistance time. Give Kira time to leave.

- Fuck you, Ren.

Hux moved to stand in front of Kira, protecting her from whatever Ren wanted to do to her. And what worried him most was that she hadn't done anything yet.

- Did you realize that you were on the wrong side and decided to try to do something? - The irony in the supreme leader's voice made Hux's blood boil.

- I hate you.

- No more than I hate you. Thanks for giving me a reason to kill you - Ren looked back at Kira and raised her hand, pointing at her, but he decided to wait. - And then I'll take care of her.

- Over my dead body.

- It will be my pleasure, then.

Hux took advantage of the moment to turn to Kira and push her away from where they were, destroying with a shot the control that operated the glass doors, which closed automatically leaving them separated from each other.

- Go away! - Poe, who had seen part of the scene in the distance, turned quickly to try to get his partner away from the place. For some reason unknown to him, Ren was waiting to make his final move, because he considered that another time, the two of them would already be dead - Now!

- Would you dare to challenge your supreme leader just to defend a damn rebel?

- You have no idea - Kira, who was dragged by Poe, could see in the distance how Hux's arm disappeared under her cloak, at her waist and when she took it out she was holding what seemed to be a saber To be. The rebels stopped when they saw that red light fill the room and Finn's curses filled the corridor full of dead stormtroopers. Chewie's growl alerted them that they should go, but Kira slipped out of Poe's grasp and ran into the corridor where Hux was standing.

She would do anything in her power to bring him to safety, even if it meant losing her life trying.

The intense red light illuminated the room and for a second, Kylo Ren was silent, surprised at the image of his "mad dog" holding a lightsaber. If he had not expected something in all that, it is that someone of all the inept around him, he had the ability to do something like that.

He nodded silently, in the end perhaps he would have a rival equal to him, apart from Rey.

Not knowing where he had gotten that strength, Armitage thought of Kira and prepared to face Ren until he left his last breath. In a second he turned to the corridor and could see how the Wookiee was carrying his warrior, from which he could hear his screams accompanied by tears that made his heart clench even more.

It took him a couple of blows against Ren's saber to know that he would not have a chance to knock him down, much less get out of there, so he decided to make the most drastic decision of his life.

At the cost of the suffering of both.

- You won't be able to do anything to help her.

- I can, I'll give her time.

"Forgive me, my little girl"

Armitage gave his last thought to the warrior before activating the saber that was aimed at his body. Pain ripped through him with the force of an earthquake and he looked into Ren's eyes for the last time, who could only think of his former general's cowardice in dying at his own hands committing suicide. Although inside he admired the ability he had to let himself be carried away by his feelings.

At the other end of the galaxy, General Organa felt a fluctuation in force and it did not come from her son or any of her young women that she was aware of were force sensitive. But at the same time, he felt a romantic connection coming from Kira, which was connected to that fluctuation.

He felt the sadness that the young woman felt at the same time that that fluctuation disappeared, in the same way that had happened with Han.

He walked away from him at the same time that he waited for the transmission of the small team from him, hoping to have good news.

——————————–

- I know ... there are no words that will make that little heart of yours heal, darling - Leia's warm voice made the excruciating pain that Kira felt fade a bit. She sucked the tears out of her and didn't dare turn to her. He felt that he had betrayed her and yet, she was there to comfort him. She dropped her head to hers, crying uncontrollably as the ships prepared to enter hyperspace. It was enough for her only to listen carefully the story of your favorite pilot to know what had happened and try to understand it. The spy of the empire ended up being a general who had fallen in love with a young woman from his ranks. And that he had sacrificed his life for the good of the galaxy - but he lead us here.

- I couldn't save him.

- That is not true. You saved him, Kira - Leia approached the young woman and took her by the hands, but Kira couldn't meet her eyes. The general took her by the chin and made her look at her, reflected in those bright eyes that only showed the sincere pain that she was suffering. She could feel her heart breaking with each passing minute, just as she could feel the light of the Force illuminate Hux's soul through Kira. She had saved him long before she knew it - he decided to sacrifice his life to keep you alive, because he loved you.

- His sacrifice gave us time. He gave us hope ...

Leia knew that she was about to break, she knew that it was a matter of minutes before that young woman with the unbreakable frame fell and let the pain take over her.

- Armitage died helping the Resistance, Kira, and that will always be remembered by all of us here.

To her surprise, the young woman nodded, releasing one of her hands and wiping away her tears.

Kira felt that her body ached too much, but hearing Leia's words made her feel a little better amid that tide of pain. She saw her General remove something from her robe and she handed him a lightsaber. She instantly identified him.

It was his lightsaber.

I doubt whether to take it, even knowing what that meant to both of them - I sent Finn to look for it as soon as I knew the destroyer was abandoned. I knew it would mean a lot to you to have it if Ben didn't have it.

- I don't know if I'm capable of having this.

- The force run through you, Kira. Don't let it fall asleep. Make his name remembered and make a difference.

- Thanks. And I'm sorry.

- You don't have to feel it. You don't choose who you fall in love with. Personal experience.

- General?

Leia turned around and before Kira even asked the question that was hovering in her head, she gave him a sad smile.

- Time takes away the pain but it will never go away. You learn to live with him. And in the end, that's what we live for. Never forget it.

[notsowrites]

the heart i know

Alex misses Michael terribly while he's off on an roadtrip with his siblings.

This idea has been knocking around in my head for a while, and somehow ballooned into 6500 words.

(AO3 Link)

<3

----------

Despite living in a house with three brothers growing up, Alex had always felt alone. His time in the Air Force had never dissuaded him of that feeling, even as he was constantly surrounded by others. Part of him knew it was the secrets he'd kept, the parts he'd been unable to speak freely about, show the world his whole truth. Buying the house in Roswell after his accident, he'd dedicated time to trying to make it into a home.

But even as he filled it with music and books, and decorated the rooms exactly how he wanted for the first time in his life, he couldn't deny that it felt as though something was missing. An emptiness still lingered through the walls, and though Alex loved this place that was all his own, it wasn't quite home yet.

It wasn't until after - after he'd dated Forrest, after he and Michael had spent months carefully navigating a tentative friendship, after they'd slowly and carefully fallen back together, after Michael had begun to spend more nights sleeping next to Alex than not - that Alex started to truly enjoy the space he'd once carved out for himself.

In his study, against the wall opposite his own desk set up for days when he works from home, is a drafting table covered in sketch paper and notebooks filled with calculations. The sight never fails to make Alex smile, to fill him with a sense of pride for the way Michael's mind works, how he is able to conceptualize and design things, and turn them into a reality. The bookshelves in the room now hold more than just Alex's coding textbooks, and the random literary novels he's acquired when he's had free moments to read, but mathematics and physics, books on environmental science and agriculture that Alex would never have dreamed of owning or reading.

There's a black Stetson that regularly hangs from the hook in the hallway near the front door, a pair of well worn cowboy boots are usually nestled on the floor next to his own work boots. And though he'll never admit it out loud, opening the door to the hallway closet basks him in the familiar and comforting smell of rain that accompanies everything Michael owns.

Before, the most he'd ever left sitting out on the kitchen table had been his laptop, now there are notebooks full of Michael's handwriting that regularly disappear and reappear usually occupying the space at the far end.

In the living room, the blanket he'd kept meticulously folded on the back of the couch rarely ends up that way these days, instead thrown haphazardly after an impromptu nap. Though it's usually Michael who dozes on the couch because he'd been watching and listening to Alex play on the keyboard or trying to work out a new chord progression for a song. He wonders if it should bother him, the way Michael drifts off during those times, but it never does.

The kitchen remains immaculate, save for one new notebook shoved in between the cutting boards that sit neatly against the back splash - Michael's recipe book. Each time he finds some new dish to try, he scribbles the ingredients and the instructions down for reference, though Alex has never seen the notebook open while Michael is cooking. As if he's already committed the entire thing to memory.

But one of the best reminders in the entire house that shows Alex how much this isn't just where he lives and rested his head at night, but is a home he shares with the person he loves, is the modifications to the bathroom. When he'd bought the house, Alex had immediately installed a grab bar and purchased a cheap little bench he could sit on - enough to make do in the shower, but never anything more than functional of their intended purpose. It had been the renovations that Michael had undertaken, designing a more comfortable bench, and a much more accessible grab bar system, that allowed Alex to truly begin to enjoy taking showers, no longer feeling like they were just a necessary, but also something to relax him after a long tiring day on base.

He sits at the dining room table now, setting up the new computer he's purchased for Michael. Of course he'd been unable to stick to a budget, too concerned with making sure Michael had the best for the work he was going to be doing on it. Alex had asked, of course, after realizing that Michael was often just using the browser on his cell phone to search for things, and sticking to pen and paper for everything else. Michael had hemmed and hawed, claimed he didn't need one, and Alex had gotten him one morning, after they'd woken each other up with lazy blow jobs, to admit how much easier his own computer could make things.

Alex misses him terribly.

"I feel pathetic," he'd admitted to Maria three days into Michael's trip with Max, Isobel, and Liz.

"You wanna come over?" She'd asked, taking pity on him. "We can just cozy on the sofa and watch cheesy romcoms and gorge on junk food."

He appreciated the offer, and almost took her up on it. The problem was, the trip Michael had taken didn't have a defined timeline. It all hinged on what they found up in following some clues that led North regarding the UFO crash and it's survivors. Alex had tried to go with him, hadn't wanted to be so far away in case something went wrong, but when his PTO request was denied due to insufficient notice, he'd relented after Michael had convinced him he'd check in every day.

But now it’s been three days since the time they’d spoken, and Alex is starting to worry. He’d resisted during the first twelve hours, convincing himself Michael just hadn’t found a moment alone. The remaining twenty four had been agony, especially when there’s been no answer on anyone’s cell phone - Michael, Isobel, Liz, and Max’s all had gone to voicemail in the end.

"He'll call," Maria had said when he'd told her. "Perhaps there's no signal where they are."

He'd been surprised, given her own ancestral ties to the crash, that she'd elected to stay in Roswell. But Maria had gently reminded him that she was more concerned about Mimi than road trips with no definitive answers, and she had a business to run - sometimes personal trips just had to be sacrificed.

So he occupies himself with setting up the new programs on Michael's computer, making sure it all runs smoothly for when he returns, and buries himself in work projects to pass the time, and tries to not think something went wrong and that's why Michael hasn't gotten in touch.

"We're on our way back," Michael greets him in the first conversation they've had in thirty six hours. "We ran into some problems, so I can't talk long, but we're maybe four-"

"Six!" Alex hears Liz shout in the background.

"-hours away, and there's nothing stopping me from coming right to you."

Alex looks at the clock, and how it's after midnight now, which means it'll be well into the morning hours before Michael is walking through the front door.

"I know you'll probably be tired-"

Michael scoffs, laughing and it's the most wonderful sound Alex has heard in days.

"Tell those bastards you're going to be late."

Alex smiles. "I might not leave at all then."

It's tempting to think about, calling out to spend the entire day with Michael instead. But he has three meetings scheduled, none of which he can get out of short of being on a ventilator. But it will mean that when he gets home in the afternoon, Michael will be there.

He reluctantly falls asleep after that, curled up on Michael's side of the bed, face buried in the pillow that no matter how many times it gets washed, always smells exactly like Michael. It doesn't make Alex miss him any less, but it's been his only comfort these last couple days.

When his alarm goes off several hours later, Alex stubbornly doesn't think about how he woke up alone again. He takes his morning shower on autopilot, wanting to go through the motions enough so that he can just come home to Michael. Breakfast is coffee and cereal, same as it's been every day Michael has been gone, because while Alex is able to cook for himself when he has to - recipes are not that hard to follow - he prefers Michael's cooking. A voice in his head tells him it's just because it means he doesn't have to, but that's not it. He loves watching Michael experiment with things, adding spices or flavors that he never would have dreamed of, and everything still tasting delicious. He'd tried not to be too surprised the first time he’d watched Michael cook for him, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Did you learn from one of the people you lived with?*

Michael had shaken his head, concentrating on the vegetables he'd been chopping up.

"Sanders was the first one who took an interest. After I started working for him, sometimes I'd crash on his couch, and he'd cook me breakfast in the morning. First time someone didn't make me feel like I was an imposition."

Alex's heart always broke hearing about what it had been like for Michael growing up. To not have any memories of happier times, but believing they existed and surviving on that hope. He's often wondered since if there was a way to retrieve the memories that Max, Isobel, and Michael couldn't remember. Particularly after learning about Nora and Louise, and how hard they'd tried to protect their children. His own childhood hadn't always been bad, there had been some good moments, memories from before his mom left when it had felt like they had been something akin to a happy family. It was only after she left when things had changed.

It’s that fear now, of possibly turning into a monster like his father, that keeps Alex from entertaining the possibility of a family. Neither he or Michael have brought it up, and Alex wonders if it’s because they’re both too scared of repeating the unpleasantness of their childhoods. Part of him knows, believes, that he would never turn into the monster that his father was, but fear isn’t always rational, and it doesn’t always make sense, Alex knows that. Maybe one day he’ll believe it too.

Because deep down, he wants it. He wants to marry Michael some day. He's had part of a proposal written since he was seventeen, when he was younger and more naive. There's never been anyone else who made him fell so fast and hard, but Alex doesn't care.

He continues on autopilot as he goes about his day, making the commute to the base, attending his meetings, going over a project that's currently in development for the land the Air Force had purchased from the Foster's several years prior - delayed because of funding and approval issues. He skips lunch, trying to make it through the day faster, and spends most of his last meeting staring at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen.

The drive home is excruciating - it feels longer than it ever has before. There's no new text messages, no missed calls, no voicemails, and Alex tries not to think about how it's probably only because Michael was exhausted. Hopefully he fell asleep the moment he hit the bed, and that's where he's going to find Michael when he gets home.

It's just been two extremely long weeks.

He toes his boots off inside the front door, and drapes his jacket on the hook. There's a black duffel laying near one of the chairs at the dining table, and Alex lets out a sigh of relief. He wastes no time pushing open the bedroom door, greeted by darkness because Michael has all the curtains pulled tight to keep out the sun. He closes the door behind him and pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it in the middle of the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom, flipping on a light. Inside, he partially closes the door and removes his pants, sitting down on the window seat to remove his prosthetic. There's a crutch leaning against the wall, one of the places Michael is always diligent in making sure to place one of his spares. The stress of the past several days has traveled all through his body, and Alex feels it acutely in his hip, and around his stump, which feels extra sensitive to pressure as he removes the liner. He debates the merits of drawing a bath, letting himself relax and let the tension melt away - but it would mean delaying being near, and getting to touch, Michael again for the first time in two weeks, and he decides against it.

Crutch nestled under his elbow, Alex makes his way back into the bedroom, naked except for his boxers, and crawls into bed, letting his crutch fall to the floor. He lets his hands sweep up Michael's legs, past his hips and stomach - a thrill traveling through his body that Michael had fallen asleep naked and ready for him - body following as Alex leans down to place feather light kisses to Michael's skin. He continues upward, pressing his face into Michael's neck, breathing in that familiar and comforting rain smell, his whole body relaxing in response. Alex presses a kiss to somewhere along Michael's jawline, before feeling Michael's arms move, wrapping around him, and pulling their bodies tightly together, indicating he’s awake too.

Without a word, just Michael pushing up to try and find his lips, kisses landing on his cheek, and neck, before finding his lips, Alex feels as he lets go of his hold, and Michael's hand brushes against him. He shifts a bit, so Michael doesn't have to try and squeeze his hand between their bodies, and reaches down, taking Michael in his hand. It's rough, just skin on skin, and Alex knows that friction can't feel good. He pauses, leaning back, and retrieving the bottle of lube from the nightstand where he'd left it during Michael's absence. Carefully he coats his hand, recapping the lid, and reaching back down, fingers wrapped around Michael again as he runs his thumb over the head, which makes Michael moan so so beautifully, and Alex wonders if he'd even touched himself at all during the trip, if he'd been alone long enough to. He jerks Michael off, keeping his face pressed against the side of Michael's neck until Michael is shifting, turning his head and pressing his open mouth against Alex's. He quickens the pace, sensing Michael is close, and pushes his other hand into Michael's curls, pulling at them slightly, but causing the desired effect as Michael thrusts up to meet his hand, and Alex slows his pace, letting him ride it out, pressing kisses to Michael's cheek as he settles back against the pillows.

"Welcome home," Alex whispers, nuzzling against Michael’s cheek, reveling in the contact.

“I told you I’d make it back.” 

Alex lets Michael press their lips together, before watching as he slides out from underneath him, pushing up off the bed and heading into the bathroom. Alex only moves as far enough to sit up, his eyes never leaving Michael, watching as he moves around, grabbing a washcloth from the closet, and running it under the hot water. 

Finally, thanks to the light of the bathroom, Alex gets a good look at Michael, and immediately sits up in bed, blinking hard at the sight. Michael’s body is covered in bruises -most of them are on his abdomen and back, and Alex is pretty sure there’s a cut on his cheek below his left eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Alex yells out, suddenly pissed off that Michael hadn’t said anything, Alex had put his hands on those bruises, they had to have hurt.

Michael pauses, looking down at himself like just realizing the bruises are there, before glancing back at Alex, shrugging his shoulders, and Alex tries to maintain his composure. It’s not going to do him any good to get angry at Michael.

“Turns out the people we were looking for were actually looking for Jones. They saw Max, and wouldn’t believe that he was someone else.” 

“And Liz and Isobel-”

“They’re fine - it’s only me and Max who get to look like this. The girls had stayed at the hotel the night this happened - or well, the two days we were missing afterward.”

“Missing?” Alex is seething now, understanding the reasoning behind the fact that he hadn’t been able to get in touch with Michael or anyone else for several days. “Did you forget you have telekinetic powers?”

Michael smiles at him, making his way back into the bedroom, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. It doesn’t do anything to calm Alex down, but he appreciates that Michael knows he needs the physical contact of some kind in this moment.

“They had some sort of serum, something similar I’m guessing to what Helena Ortecho dosed me with when she wanted me to build the atomizer. Rendered me powerless for almost two days. Max too.” Michael slides back onto the bed, and Alex immediately leans forward, hands carefully running across the skin, careful to avoid all the places where Michael has bruises and cuts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Michael doesn’t reply, and turns away from him, running a hand through his curls, and Alex watches as they slowly fall back into place.

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You didn’t-”

Alex glares at him, and thankfully Michael doesn’t finish his sentence. 

“Because you would have stopped touching me, and I didn’t-” Michael sighs, reaching out and taking Alex’s hand. He lets him, adjusting so their fingers are intertwined, and watches as Michael presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Because it’s been two weeks, and nothing these past two weeks has felt as good as your hands on me.”

“Michael.”

Alex takes a deep breath, and barely lets the idea form in his mind, knowing that he’ll overthink it and talk himself out of it if he does. He pushes himself up, maneuvering on the bed, until he’s straddling Michael’s lap, legs wrapped around his hips. Alex digs his hands into Michael’s hair, and pulls their lips together, foreheads gently knocking against one another. The feeling of them pressing together, only the thin layer of his own boxers in the way makes Alex grind down harder, needing the touch.

Michael flips them, so Alex is underneath him, but his legs still wrapped around Michael’s hips, pulling them close together, and Alex laughs into Michael’s chest as he leans over him and retrieves the bottle of lube from earlier. Alex watches, as patiently as he can, as Michael stands up, pulling his boxers down and squirting some onto his hand, coating his fingers, before reaching down and with one finger pressing into Alex. 

It has been too long as he pushes down into the contact, hands gripping into the sheets of the bed as Michael adds another finger, using just the tiniest bit of force to open him up. And Alex can’t look away, can’t stare at anything except Michael’s face, and the focus in his eyes in how he’s touching Alex. He feels Michael press in one more finger, and while he appreciates the care Michael is putting into making sure he’s ready, Alex finds that he doesn’t care, he just needs, needs-

Michael’s fingers slide out, and Alex groans at the loss, before Michael is lining himself up and pushing forward, and Alex wraps his legs around Michael’s hips again, urging him forward, filling him up. For a moment, they stay like that, Michael buried inside him, and Alex reaches up, grabbing hold of Michael’s shoulders, his neck, and finally his face, and pulling him down into a desperate crush of their lips before he feels Michael pull out, almost all the way but still inside him and holding him open, before thrusting back in. When Michael hits that spot inside him that sends him wild, Alex can’t do anything except bury his teeth into the junction where Michael’s neck meets his shoulder, the rain smell that is so very Michael all he can focus on, before he reaches down and takes himself in hand, leaning into the tightness he can feel forming, his orgasm inching closer now.

Michael’s orgasm hits first as he continues to thrust forward, dropping his head to Alex’s chest with a muffled groan, as Alex continues to jerk himself off, feeling his own orgasm grow, but the friction is too much, and it’s wrong, and as he slows down his movements, he feels Michael’s hand cover his own, and Alex pulls back, watching as Michael takes over. It doesn’t take long, Alex has spent too many nights dreaming about Michael’s hands on him, and it’s as Michael thumb brushes across the tip that Alex lets go, moaning out his own climax into the curls on top of Michael’s head, fingertips pressed into the skin of Michael’s back.

He pulls Michael down into him, their bodies pressed tight, and Alex keeps his legs wrapped tight around him, one hand digging into his curls as they both breath deep and heavy, coming down from their highs. 

It takes another couple minutes before Michael is pushing himself up, and pulling Alex with him, and Alex realizes too late, Michael is carrying him into the bathroom. He doesn’t protest as Michael carefully sets him down next to the shower, and Alex gracefully falls onto the bench, leaning forward and turning the water on, watching as Michael disappears back into the bedroom, returning moments later with his crutch. Alex uses this opportunity to clean himself up, removing the remaining evidence from his skin, letting his fingers dance across Michael’s skin as he watches him do the same.

They dry off, Michael double checking his crutch is within reach, before pressing their lips together one more time, and disappearing back out into the bedroom. He returns a moment later with boxers, and a t-shirt, leaving them on the sink for Alex to get to, and disappears again back into the bedroom again.

By the time Alex has put on the boxers, and pulled the t-shirt over his head, Michael is standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of black boxers, and his hair is towel dried enough that it’s wet, but not dripping onto the floor. 

“Dinner?” Michael asks, and all Alex can focus on is the cut next to Michael’s left eye. It’s already in the healing stages, clearly having been received several days earlier, but it’s entire presence makes Alex angry. “I wasn’t thinking anything too complicated, maybe fajitas? If we have the ingredients, since I’m sure you haven’t cooked anything while I’ve been gone.”

Alex scoffs at him. “I went shopping yesterday.”

He takes his time getting dressed, and fishing out one of Michael’s clean work shirts from the dresser, pushing him arms into the sleeves, pressing his nose into the fabric. He’s always amazed at how well the rain smell persists, but it’s comforting, and it makes him feel like he’s surrounded by Michael even in those moments he’s not. He stands in the middle of the bedroom, debating whether or not to put his prosthetic back on, eventually deciding against it - they’re not going anywhere else tonight, and the idea of wrangling with it when they’re just going to end up going back to bed in a few hours isn’t appealing to him at all.

By the time he makes it out into the main room, standing at the foot of the dining room table, Michael, who has slipped into Alex’s Air Force hoodie so he’s not walking around shirtless, has already spread out the necessary ingredients on the counter in the kitchen. There’s a pan on the stove, and Michael is concentrating on slicing the steak into strips, the vegetables from the crisper waiting to be cut up next. Alex doesn’t pay too much attention to the specifics of the cooking, and glances down at the table, only to notice Michael’s regular notebooks are missing, though the laptop that is his gift is exactly where he left it.

Alex watches, transfixed, as Michael scribbles something into one of those notebooks, and then retrieves his cooking notebook from it’s spot against the wall, writing something down in that as well. The way Michael moves, Alex can’t even begin to imagine what his thought process is like to be able to shift around constantly like he does, one idea after another flowing through his mind, needing to be captured and saved. 

As far as he can tell, Michael hasn’t seen him yet. Which is fine, because Alex is more than happy in this moment to enjoy watching him, reveling in how comfortable Michael looks. He thinks of the drafting table in the study, and two vehicles parked in the garage, and Michael’s clothes with their own space in the dressers, and in the closet, and can’t look away from Michael in the kitchen, cooking and looking very much like this is his home. And Alex thinks of every time Michael has told him about not belonging, about not feeling wanted, and about how often he’d been shuffled around the system, and something tightens in Alex’s chest.

Years ago, he’d seen this beautiful, handsome boy who made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and offered him a warm place to sleep at night. A boy who had stood up for him when no one else would, who had without hesitation put himself between Alex and danger time and time again. Who looked at Alex like he was the only person in the world that mattered, and Alex has always wondered if he’s worthy of that love, of that devotion. But Michael has never looked at him any other way, even in their worst moments, during the arguments and the fighting - Alex has never doubted that Michael loved him. Because while Alex knows he’s always had trouble verbalizing his feelings, Michael has always been one to stand tall and declare them in the most beautiful ways.

And Alex knows that, without a doubt, there is nowhere else he would rather be in this moment. 

“Michael,” he chokes out, because the words are clawing up his throat, and usually Alex is careful about what he says, and how he says it, and he’s never - at least he doesn’t think he has - truly told Michael how he feels. And standing here now, after being apart for two weeks, and the issues with keeping in touch during that time, and the fucking bruises, and it’s all too much for him to keep in now.

“I was thinking about my workshop, and how we can modify some space in the basement here if that’s-”

Alex doesn’t let him finish, can’t even process what Michael is talking about past agreeing with it because he's talking like he knows this is his space, and Alex can't help but feel happy and so fucking proud to see that Michael knows this is his home too.

“Michael,” he starts again, waiting until Michael is looking back at him. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

He was expecting a reaction of some kind, probably something akin to Michael just crossing the room and kissing him. What he certainly doesn’t expect is to hear the knife clatter to the floor, and Michael swear under his breath, and for him to turn the water in the sink on, shoving his hand underneath it.

It takes Alex’s brain a moment to come back online, wondering what just happened, before he realizes that Michael has sliced his hand open. But before he can move, Michael has grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his hand, as he rushes toward Alex, good hand reaching out and pulling their bodies together, kissing Alex. And Alex is helpless, he melts into Michael’s touch, his arms wrapping around Michael’s waist and pulling himself closer, and Alex faintly realizes his crutch has fallen to the floor.

“You’re such an idiot,” Alex says against Michael’s lips, but Michael just shakes his head, diving back in and kissing him again.

“I don’t care,” Michael replies against his lips, and Alex feels helpless to stop him. "I'm happy to be your idiot."

“We’re going to have to call Kyle now, and have him look at your hand-”

“It’s really not that bad-”

Alex grabs Michael’s wrist, pulling back far enough to get a better look at it, the towel wrapped tightly enough for now, and Alex knows the only reason he hasn’t immediately settled into worrying about an infection is because of Michael’s alien DNA and it’s resistance to human diseases and ailments.

“What if you need stitches?”

Michael smiles, leaning in again, and Alex doesn’t stop him.

"I'm gonna go put my prosthetic on, and then call Kyle, so please, no more accidents." Alex tugs at the dish towel, and Michael yanks his hand back.

In the bathroom, Alex collapses back on the window seat, and takes a deep breath, cursing the events of tonight. Well, not all of them because he'd never regret Michael - even through the good and bad between them, Alex has learned to take it all in stride. He just can't believe Michael's reaction to what he'd said had been to slice his hand open.

He calls Kyle first, leaning against the wall, and wondering if he should never had said anything at all. They're lucky - Kyle isn't working, and agrees to come over, but Alex can hear the apprehension in his voice and knows he's going to have to figure out a way to repay the favor.

By the time Alex has put his prosthetic back on, Kyle is letting himself in through the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but here - and Alex can't blame him for that. His status as Alien Doctor means he's the only one who can treat the aliens without fear of discovery.

“Do I even want to know?” Kyle asks, carefully pulling back the dishtowel, and inspecting the wound. Alex watches as Michael ignores the question, his good hand reaching toward the new laptop that's still sitting on the table.

“Guerin’s an idiot,” Alex supplies from where he’s standing in the kitchen heating up leftover pizza, since dinner was ruined, and Alex was done letting Michael near sharp objects for the evening. As Kyle sets about cleaning and bandaging Michael’s cut, including dropping a full bottle of nail polish remover on the table for Michael to drink, Alex moves around the kitchen, cleaning up the ruined dinner that Michael had planned for them, shaking his head at the half cut up meat and vegetables, and putting anything that can be saved back in the fridge. 

“Yeah,” Michael adds, not paying attention to Kyle, his gaze firmly settled on watching Alex in between sips of acetone. “But you love me.”

Alex watches Kyle stop what he’s doing, eyes moving up first to Michael’s, and then over to his own, as if asking if he needs to tell Michael to shut up before he starts telling Kyle things he definitely doesn’t need to, or want to, know.

“Did you just figure that out, Guerin?” Kyle replies instead, and Alex wonders if he thought that the safest option. “Cuz the rest of us had bets on how long it would take you two to figure your shit out.”

Alex glares at Kyle, remembering several conversations years ago, where Kyle had tried to nudge him into talking to Michael, insisting that it was the key to everything between them. It hadn’t been bad advice, it had been exactly what Alex had needed to hear. The problem was, like it had always been with them, timing. 

Timing had always been their enemy, even from the very beginning. Alex had thought they’d beaten it, after everything they’d been through where they’d all but given up on ever being together. He doesn’t like to dwell on it too much, on their crashing back together in the weeks following the reunion, or how fast he’d pulled away due to the threat of his father still lingering over them, choosing to protect Michael over being with him.

“Who won?” Michael asks, and Alex glances over to see Kyle bent over Michael’s hand, gauze pressed against the wound. He doesn’t want to know how far off their friends were, if he and Michael had spent too much time letting everything else get in the way instead of trying to work things out between them. But he’s already cleaned up the kitchen, and after all of this, Alex really just wants to eat dinner and take Michael to bed, and not wake up until the morning.

“Max.” That’s a surprising answer, Alex thinks. He’d expected it to be Maria or Isobel. Or even Kyle himself, who seemed to have picked up on what Guerin meant to him long before Alex was even willing to admit to himself that it could be obvious to anyone. “And even he was off by about four months. You two really did take forever.”

“I’m surprised Maria didn’t win.”

“She took herself out of the running, said it’d be cheating.”

Alex is thankful when the oven beeps, indicating the pizza is ready, and ignores the remaining conversation between Kyle and Michael. He removes the tray from the oven, and plates two slices each on plates for him and Michael, before wondering if Kyle is hungry. But as he turns around with the intention of asking, Kyle is standing up, backpack in hand, looking ready to leave.

“I don’t want to know what caused that cut, but for my sanity, please don’t do it again.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Alex, what is this?” Michael asks, fingers running across the smooth top of the laptop.

“It’s yours,” he replies, matter of factly. He knows Michael is going to resist, going to insist he doesn’t need or want it.

“I didn’t ask-”

Alex takes a deep breath, because he knew the fight was coming. He knew that Michael would resist it, because that’s how Michael is. He gives and gives and gives, and Alex has watched him reject things people have done for him over and over again, thinking they were debts that needed to be repaid. 

“I know you didn’t, but with all your research and your designs - I thought this would make it easier.”

Michael doesn’t say anything to that, and Alex wonders if he’s not going to actually argue against it.Maybe it’s just the events of tonight, maybe Michael is going to save the bickering for another day, another evening. 

Instead, Michael shakes his head, eyeing the computer one more time, and pushing up off the chair, and walking into the kitchen. Alex tries to not focus on his injured hand, on the stark white bandage wrapped around reminding him of a different time in their lives, causing him to flinch away, picking up a plate and taking a bite of pizza.

He watches Michael lean against the counter across from him,  picking up a slice of pizza and testing if it’s cool enough to eat. It’s shit timing, but Alex needs to know something, needs to ask Michael about tonight.

“Did you not know?”

Michael pauses, pizza poised in front of his mouth, and frowns at him, before dropping the slice back onto the plate, and sliding it back onto the counter.

“Of course I knew.”

“Because I know I’m not good with words, I know that I don’t make those big grand declarations like you do that take my breath away and render me speechless.”

“Alex-”

“I just,” he pauses, leveraging himself across the linoleum until he’s standing in Michael’s space, fingers itching to reach out and make contact. “It felt important to tell you.”

He lets Michael crowd him against the cabinetry, pizza temporarily forgotten. Wraps his arms around Michael's neck, as Michael pulls him on with his hands settled on his hips, and Alex just loves this man. He's infuriating and he's beautiful, and more than anything else, Alex wouldn't trade anything in their past if it meant changing getting here.

"I told you a long time ago, I don't look away from you. I never could." Alex lets Michael lean in, foreheads pressed together, noses bumping, lips pressed together in smiles. "You're my home, Alex. You made me believe, when no one else did, that I didn't have to build a ship and leave. That I could have a family here too."

Alex thinks about home and Michael's plans for moving his workshop into the basement and kisses him again and again and again, feeling like he's that seventeen year old boy again who got nervous around the boy he liked. Except now they're grown up, they're men who have seen more and done more, and changed them. But one thing through it all has remained the same.

"You really want to move your workshop here?" Alex asks, knowing the answer, but needing Michael to understand that he's asking to make sure. He needs to hear it from Michael.

"Do you not-"

"No!" Alex immediately replies, and then catches himself, knowing how this has to sound. "Fuck. No, I want you to. I'm just - I'm making sure it's what you want."

Michael reaches behind him, and Alex twists his head to see it's one of his notebooks, and they pull away from each other just enough so Michael can flip through the pages to find something specific. Be holds it up so Alex can see and-

It's a design for a prosthetic for him.

Alex takes the notebook, staring at the pages, not understanding half the calculations and formulas scribbled in the margins, but not caring because he understands the design schematic.

"I just thought I could try and make you something that was lighter and easier to get on and off-"

Alex lunges forward, cutting Michael off, and wrapping his arms back around him, using Michael and the countertop for balance and leverage to stay upright. He kisses Michael over and over again, and thinks about everything Michael does for him.

"Say it again," Michael says, pulling back so they can look each other in the eye.

Alex buries his face in Michael's shoulder, pressing his lips against the skin of his neck, but he's smiling. He hasn't felt this happy, this excited, this in love since he was seventeen. He knows Michael is waiting for him, the ever patient partner that as a teenager he never dreamed of deserving, much less finding.

"I love you."

[psychologyserviceannoucement]

How does Talk Therapy work?

It can be difficult for people to conceive of how exactly therapy works. After all, the problems that people seek treatment for can be very debilitating and severe. Many mental health conditions can even be life-threatening and fatal in their own way. Something that serious seems like it would require much more intervention than simply sitting around and talking about your feelings. However, there is much more going on under the surface.

The mind can be a very nebulous concept to grasp. Within daily life, it works automatically without requiring an individual to understand the inner machinations. It can feel like an abstract part of our life, but it is not without form. The mind has an overarching system that operates in documented patterns. There are distinct processes such as perception, decision making, emotional regulation, memory storage, and so on. The brain is a very complicated organ after all. An average individual wouldn’t be expected to know how to fix it if something went wrong any more than they would be expected to know how to fix the rest of their bodies. That’s why instead, they’re referred to professionals, who know in detail how the mind functions and how to fix it if need be. They use that knowledge to identify which part of the system is malfunctioning and apply the appropriate solution. And the way they do that is by talking.

Keep in mind that psychological processes are not as easily observed as physical ones. If something is wrong with your body, it’s often as simple as looking to see what it is. It’s pretty easy to tell whether a bone is broken or not for instance. Even internal processes can be seen through different methods or tested in various ways. However, the only way a psychologist can learn about an individual’s mind is by asking them to verbalize it. That can be a difficult way to gain information, especially when they need so much of it. A psychologist may want to know how you see the world. How do you view yourself? Is that a healthy and constructive perspective or is it more detrimental? What is your decision making process? How do you go about taking care of yourself? What parts are difficult? What parts are easy? How do you handle your emotions? What do you do to cope with them? Is that behavior helping or is it making things worse? How can we use that knowledge going forward? Getting all that information and working with it takes a lot of time and a lot of talking. 

To work through those problems, there are multiple forms of talk therapy. There’s a wide diversity of  different models with different objectives and different areas of focus. Cognitive behavioral therapy is one example. This model works by identifying maladaptive thinking patterns called cognitive distortions in order to replace them with more functional ones. Some identifiable cognitive distortions are polarizing, catastrophizing, mental filtering, and mind reading among others. On the other hand, dialectical behavioral therapy addresses emotional regulation and reactive states. It examines possible triggers or behaviors that may lead to distress and develops methods to avoid and respond to them. Acceptance and commitment therapy promotes psychological flexibility. Mindfulness is a big component of multiple therapeutic models as well as a model of its own. Those are very simplified explanations, but I use them to show that talk therapy has structure. It’s not a casual conversation that you might have with your loved ones. It’s an organized operation with specific goals and intentions. These models represent a variety of tools that a practicing therapist may use over the course of treatment.

Psychology is a science and therapy is a medical procedure. It’s a cornerstone of mental healthcare because it works and there’s an abundance of research to support that. From an outside perspective, it can appear silly. In sessions, it might be hard to understand what’s supposed to be happening. It might even seem nonsensical or random at times if you don’t see how the topics you’re discussing connect back to your problems. However, there is a method behind therapists’ actions. If you’re confused, it’s always an option to ask. Most psychologists have their own strategies when conducting therapy in the same way different teachers or tradesmen have theirs. They’re likely happy to explain their process and the motivations behind their actions during a session or before you set an appointment. I would always encourage everyone to understand their treatment as best they can. Doing so will allow you to be an active participant in it. If you’re genuinely unsure or curious how therapy works effectively, then by all means, seek out more complete resources than this and learn more about it. More knowledge can only help. If after that, you still feel like talk therapy won’t work for you and you don’t want to try it, then at least it will be an informed decision. 

Lastly, it needs to be acknowledged that “just talking about your feelings” is not so useless of a task. Talking about your feelings does help. It elicits social support that can impact your mental health. It allows for a release of persistent thoughts and hormones lingering in the body. It changes the way you conceptualize those feelings just by forcing you to translate the abstract into concrete words. It gives you the opportunity to observe and analyze those feelings. It allows you to reflect and discuss potential courses of action to take. It is correct to say that there are many problems that require more than a casual discussion of emotions. It would also be accurate to say that some mental health conditions require more or different kinds of treatment than talk therapy. However, that shouldn’t serve as a dismissal of either of those things either. They still have their value and their effectiveness in many settings. Until they’re proven inappropriate for the current problem, they should not be discounted. Every tool in a toolbox has its use. If you are struggling with your mental health, please consider attending talk therapy. It may prove much more beneficial than you think. In fact, it might just be the exact answer you’re looking for.

For more information on mental health topics, check out our Index

[adraveins]

If you're happy to do another round, could we get 2, 6, 14, 20 and 25 for the Writing Process Asks? I'm greedy and I want to know more about how the magic happens!

Of course. 💚

2. How much research do you do before you start?

That depends. The main reason I like fic so much is because it removes the need for the exhausting amount of groundwork that original stuff requires, and it lets me easily engage with the act of writing. I’ll do research for it sometimes, but nothing overly involved.

I’m currently reading three books as research for the original thing, and that’s only the beginning, so I will do a LOT for something where I have to worldbuild from scratch.

6. What do you do to fight writer’s block?

For me, writer’s block is mostly a combination of chronic physical + mental illness and working full-time (and in the past, being an overly ambitious student). There’s only so much that I can do about those things, and a lot of it is just trying to take care of myself as best I can.

I’ve also had to get comfortable with the fact that creativity comes in cycles. Which is something I hate, because I pretty much Always want to be creating, but I’ve had to learn to take a step back and turn my attention to other things and let ideas simmer for a while.

The other problem is that I struggle to write without stretches of unbroken time, in which I can really get into “the zone.” But since unbroken time can be scarce, I’ve just had to brute force my way through that particular hurdle and practice sitting down and popping off some words even if I can’t commit full focus to them.

14. What’s the longest story you’ve written? Is it finished? How long did it take you?

Thinking about it, that would actually be this Magnus Archives fic, clocking in at 150,000 words and easily going to be longer than 200k by the time it’s done. My dumb ass can’t conceptualize numbers, and I really thought that an ensemble with involved worldbuilding was going to be maybe 100k or so. LMAO. But I do enjoy writing it, it’s just going to take me a little longer than expected to finish.

I have another longfic of similar length that’s gone unfinished for a while, and it haunts me, so I’d like to work on that afterwards. I struggle to finish big projects of any nature, and I’m hoping to break the curse with that TMA fic.

But I’ve learned that I can easily spit out huge word counts whenever worldbuilding and plot are firmly in place, and that’s actually heartening for me to know. The only real hurdle for original stuff is laying out the groundwork first, which is more a matter of finding the time and energy to do that.

20. What do you wish you knew when you first started writing?

The best way I can say it is this meme:

In that everything is so incredibly made-up and invented, and that I get to pick and choose what actually matters to me. Which is a good mindset to take into life in general, but especially helpful for making sure that writing remains a joy for me and never a chore. Writing exists to make me happy, and that’s it.

25. Free space. Tell me anything you want about writing in general or one of your stories.

My mom told me that when I was little (as in, before I started school), I would dictate stories to her and make super elaborate epics with my toys (which I remember doing as an older child too). I would also bring her and my dad gigantic stacks of books to read to me, and apparently they would have to enter negotiations with me to make the stacks smaller. So this shit is thoroughly hard-wired into my brain and predates my, uh, conscious memories.

And I know this is a Pillars blog, but I am pretty proud of the aforementioned TMA fic, especially because I found the series finale kind of disappointing in how the lore and themes didn’t really go to any cool places of transcendent horror (in my opinion), and I put a lot of work into weaving that sort of thing together for the fic. I’m talking based on Gnostic theology (and other Christian flavors, though some of it in the vein of deconstructing them) and physics-as-mythos and one Margaret Atwood poem in particular (“Quattrocento”). I’m like DYING to talk about it but I can’t until the fic is done, so. Some overflow goes here. 😂

[prodigiousvisions]

Headcanon/Divergence? [1] (Yosano): Childhood, The Great War, and life after the war.

Initial disclaimer and semi-related note(s)–

So if part of this looks familiar to you, that’s probably because you read it before in its original, rudimentary state. I have quite a few regrets of impulsively deleting my Yosano blog (vivificamortem) tbh due to having an episode, and one of them was not saving the original post of this when I first wrote it. That being said I still think it’s important enough to warrant a rewrite even if I don’t exactly recall the specifics. As this eventually becomes very Fukuzawa and Ranpo orientated/centric, I just want to make it clear this will not apply to your respective muses of these two unless we discuss it. These are considered backstory supplements and characterizations of Yosano and Yosano’s main verse. She does not have mains for Ranpo or Fukuzawa at this time, and I usually... don’t do mains? But for specifics like this, this would probably apply to potential, future mains and warrant mains of these two. If that makes sense. Anyway. This will also include a bunch of new HC details I didn’t have before.

I was going to be mean and not put this under a cut lol but I’ll be merciful since it is extremely thorough and lengthy. 2,300+ words lengthy, and that’s not including this disclaimer. I know I asked people to read this once finished but realistically I cannot ask that in good conscious unless you are genuinely interested/care and actually are into BSD lol. Fleshed out details+conceptualized explanations/characterization below. Content/mention warnings for suicide ideation + attempts, and neglect.

CHILDHOOD

Yosano was an only child. She was not a beloved child, a planned child, nor a wanted child. Her parents would have been inclined to give her away instantly had they not compromised to raise her as a sort of... ‘help’ for the couple’s wagashi shop. It was a regret far before the first sleepless night when she was a baby, but they decided to grin and bear it. Raising Yosano was an arduous task and they made it very clear in how they behaved toward her as she was growing up. Saying that she was simply neglected wouldn’t even begin to describe it. In response to this, as a young girl Yosano developed a loud, brash personality that would more often than not get her in trouble both at school and with her parents. Being punished was never fun, but at least it garnered their attention for a little while before they went back to essentially ignoring her presence. Her adapted personality would not lead to any fruition for her lonely soul at school either, most kids finding her annoying, scary, or would simply view her in scorn for being so outspoken and strange. She began to believe the outlook of her parents: her only use was to be a shopkeep of the family business. The girl debated with herself often what was the worth of life, what was the point to live, if not to live and be frowned down upon at every other moment. Troubled and depressed, Yosano tries her hardest to cope, keeping her chin up but her eyes glued to the floor when in seclusion.

At some point or another Yosano and her parents find out about her ability and the extent of it all. It freaks Yosano out at the start, thinking about how ridiculous it is that someone who contemplated on a daily basis what they truly benefited out of being alive could potentially alter the fate of someone’s life and grant them a second chance. Then for once, she finds worth in herself. It wasn’t something she could actively go and show off of course, but it gave her a purpose. Her dramatized exterior of self-entitlement and loudmouthedness proceeds on of course, but her outlook begins to shift. She has hope. She can do something good for people. And have a (figurative) place doing so. 

This new purpose was an open door opportunity not only for Yosano, but her parents as well. At the first opportunity to do so as they are tired of taking care of this child, they’re quick to send her off, knowing how valuable that ability and its potential was. In this case, it was the military (either catching wind of her ability or deciding to now call on her due to the necessary role in their war strategy) demanding for Yosano to take part personally. It was a ridiculously easy feat to get their permission to send her away. She was technically no longer their responsibility while she was away. Hell, they hoped she would never come back.

She wouldn’t. And that was that. That was the last time she ever saw and would be in contact with her parents.

THE GREAT WAR

It’s worth reminding everyone that Yosano was a child, and the gravity of her new circumstances didn’t quite dawn on her before it was too late. At the start, she was excited to show that she could have worth and be surrounded by people that would appreciate her for what she did. It would be the first time in all of her life that would happen. And it is for these very reasons that she has such strong, genuine, sincere reactions during the chapters/times she is midst the war. While maintaining her semi huffy and self-imposed air, she was also able to allow it to falter a little because for once, she didn’t need to resort to that to be paid attention to. In their initial praise, it did freak her out at first, the foreignness being so strange to her. But she appreciated it, she truly did. (Note: this obviously doesn’t apply to Mori lol.) The unnamed soldier that Yosano interacts with at this time especially strikes a chord with her. His kindness makes her think that maybe if she was fortunate enough, she would have liked to have someone like that as a brother. Maybe someone like that could have stopped the pain she’d endured with her parents. But that was in the past! He was lending her more toward the perspective of hope just as he told her that she was doing for him and the other soldiers. The creation of the butterfly clip, again, freaks her out because she’s unsure how to react to kind gestures. It is the first of its kind– a present, meaningful in its weight and sentiment in a way that she would learn later would continue to influence her life in various, monumental ways. His present interest in poetry is also something that Yosano would find herself enjoying, too. At the time.

Honestly, I really don’t even think it’s worth elaborating on Mori cause. Well. That whole ordeal speaks for itself. His manipulation and obsession grosses her out at its minimum / start and would later be the colossal trigger and collapse of her mental stability and lead to lasting trauma even as an adult. But anyways, back to other details worth note in this timeframe.

The war efforts proceed and we reach the point where things are looking grim and soldiers are getting near fatally injured faster, and coming back in droves. She realizes rather quickly that she bit off more than she can chew; to have to bear witness to these men being on the brink of death and quickly ‘revive’ them like some sort of automated robot would, naturally, mess up anyone. Her haughty behavior drops quickly as she becomes more quiet, tired, horror creeping up her body gradually in the form of slowly raising goosebumps. She’s wondering when the war will be over, and starts to second guess her purpose. Is what she’s doing right? But she’s not hit rock bottom, not yet at least, as the unnamed soldier reassures her the second instance. He relays how her saving him would bring him back to his family. He tells her: “I’m glad that you’re here.” And it makes way for Yosano’s first instance of ever crying in front of someone, feeling an overwhelming amount of gratitude to being seen and the need to trudge forward to protect. Protect those who had a life to return to. He’d been living proof of the importance of life– that life wasn’t always so cruel to others, that she had a chance to be surrounded by those who cared about her too. She cries in her vulnerability.

Things turn for the worst. Every day is a living nightmare. She can wipe away blood from her body, others’ body, but she will never be clean of the endless pools of blood that stained her hands after her treatments. Even at the age of 11, she comes to the realization that she is the single force that shackles all these people to the torture of having to throw themselves into battle again and again for futile efforts. She’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown constantly, but consoles herself with the thought that the unnamed soldier will be able to tell her it’s alright, maybe even help her figure out a way to get them all out of there. Yosano doesn’t want her ability, hell, she’d opt to having no purpose over this. She would trade her life for all of these people. She just needed this to stop. It’s all her fault. 

The person who was the embodiment of her last shred of sanity and piece of hope commits suicide and dubs her the Angel of Death, and that was her final breaking point. The sliver of belief that providing good for people and having a purpose is ultimately gone. Her worldview that she started to have hope for shatters. It was a cumulative, gradual raise of hope for a better life to have it all smashed to the ground. This tied in with the actual events she lived through, clearly, do not help. Trauma blocks it out of her memory later on, but there are plentiful, deliberate suicide attempts from the young girl afterward, wanting out of this hell that her own hands allowed to bear fruit, but for various circumstances and reasons, her attempts would not work and/or she would simply not be allowed to die at Mori’s hands. She is a hysterical, screaming, crying mess until she is no longer able to cry anymore. If not suicide, then alternative methods. Yosano would attempt to blow the ship up with the explosives that were stored at the bottom – it would have been a far crueler end than prolonging everyone’s destined death, but ultimately fails at that as well. 

LIFE AFTER THE WAR

She is apprehended and taken away to an institution where she spends three years in a void of a space, living on earth as if her spirit has long been faded. She is a shell of a person, succumbed to her own despair and doing the absolute bare minimum. Humanity only ever makes itself present in jaded eyes that blink sometimes and the agonizingly slow rise and fall of her chest to indicate that somehow, she was breathing. Living, but not alive. Not really, anyway. She may as well be rotting away, unkempt, unpure, and wishing life would simply put her out of her misery. Devoid of any hope, feeling death would be a start of repenting for her crimes. But it was never that easy. Why would it be? 

Ranpo and Fukuzawa rescue her. We all know how that goes. Let’s touch on some details of after that. 

After rescuing her, the duo have Yosano reside with them in Fukuzawa’s apartment. While Ranpo and Fukuzawa managed to recover a glimmer of hope in Yosano by rescuing her alone, the hope is discarded as she feels she is unworthy of it and they essentially are put in a position where they have to rehabilitate her. These two people cared enough about her to try to help her– she can see it, despite going about like a walking corpse some days. But guilt is overbearing, suffocating, and it shakes her down with constant night terrors that she is too drained to scream at as well as frequent moments where she blacks out without prompting. At this time, the butterfly clip she dares not to remove from her person is a reminder, a grim heavy burden she forces herself to carry on her shoulders that she was not a good person and that this was her karma and hers alone. She should not forget that no matter how good intentioned Ranpo and Fukuzawa were to her. There was absolutely at least one more time she attempted to take her life. Needless to say, it’s a painstakingly slow process, taking about a full year before Yosano can even start to really improve outside of talking to them here and there. 

(I feel like this behavior / state is EXTREMELY similar to how Kyouka starts off as, too, so my Yosano would definitely take to Kyouka more strongly than some others. But that is an entirely different conversation for some other time.)

Once she gets to a point where she can process things again and forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that these two will simply not allow her to remain dormant, Ranpo takes to tutoring her to help get her back on track to where she left off in her schooling, as she was getting stable enough to where Fukuzawa had confidence she could get better. This process was also slow, but Ranpo is quite the good teacher when he wants to be! The endeavor is a success, and she is able to enroll again in public school, where she is still piecing together why she was granted this second chance at life. It feels pitifully ironic, all things considered. As time does, it also grants an opportunity for growth and change. Eventually, she gradually shakes her way out of her shell at snail’s pace. Some days were still harder than others, of course. Getting poetry assignments would make Yosano have full on anxiety attacks where the only solutions of getting her to calm down were to have Ranpo or Fukuzawa at her side, or if at school and neither were present, to be sent home. These instances lessened over time, thankfully, and the episodes would turn to bitter, depressing moments where Yosano would tense up and try to pass it off to Ranpo if she was able in a way that while seemed lukewarm in how she expressed it, certainly held its weight of obvious trauma. 

(She never liked to talk about her issues. Never. And instead almost always opted for distractions as her method of coping. It is a major flaw of hers that you can absolutely call her out for even in present time.)

Yosano will never truly return to being 100% normal, but that’s fine, as she really was never at 100% anyway. Schooling in its own right helped her cope with things and served as a distraction from negative thoughts, and she found herself enjoying it and studying harder than ever before. Assisting in the preliminaries of helping around the detective agency also allowed her to grow into the figurative seat that Ranpo saved just for her. No longer did she have to be abrasive to garner people’s attention, either, becoming more comfortable with an occasional snarky tongue when the situation allowed it, and slowly being allowed to live as herself for the first time. It was truly shocking to see that people liked her for her and not the potential of weaponizing the dangerous ability that she had. Once more was her ambition to help people reignited, but it would be done on her own terms. Compelled by her convictions as schooling was coming to a close, she decided that she would go to pursue higher education at a university while formally getting a degree to become a doctor. It is then when she got accepted that her new self would truly shine, becoming as close as she could to be at peace. This endeavor was sped up to lightning fast speeds because of her drilled in skill of being all the more studious and essentially holding the knowledge of what it entailed already.

Not necessarily integral details, but while in university, she did pick up the hobbies of taking up Kickboxing Classes as well as Dance Classes and are longstanding interests of hers that she maintains even after finishing her schooling. These, too, serve(d) as time slot distractions to keep her thoughts at bay when her mind decided to be a little cruel to her at some moments. Poetry no longer leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and is now a newfound interest of hers. She even writes poetry of her own at times. As of present time, her butterfly clip is still a symbol of burden she chooses to carry and a reminder, but it is also representative of metamorphosis, a chance at a new beginning– a new life. That there was value in life, and that you should live on for those who could not.

[amerasdreams]

I have been listening to True Spies podcast on Spotify. It’s apparently connected to a thing called Spyscape, which has a museum/experience thing in New York. They also have an online test for your personality and intelligence.... well those intelligence tests all of course have to do with math. and they are TIMED. somehow I got thru guessing most of them.... didn’t score 0 but didn’t score great. 

so guess what I scored on intelligence!  and personality scores mean I’m more prone to health problems and being unhappy.... :( 

(here I woke up thinking I can be uniquely me, I don’t want to be like anyone else anyway, I can embrace that... but how can I when what I am is this pathetic)

I shouldn’t have done this, I know what these tests do, make me discouraged and hate myself more. they even said I’m not imaginative and creative-- things I value most besides intelligence (and intuition/empathy...) 

they did say the “spy role” I was most suited for, which is what I’m most interested in, intelligence analyst. But in the more “practical” side, for jobs, it mentioned medical things, technical things, which I wouldn’t be good at and don’t like, business marketing-- working for a business I don’t care about, a job with no meaning....  it even had mathematician! when I’m obviously not good at math. the only jobs I might be interested in are psychologist/criminologist... idk.... to late for me to get any career anyway, let alone somehow what I really want

they did a risk assessment, where you blow up the balloon before it pops to get “money” - yesterday I started it and panicked when the balloon popped the first time and closed the window. then when I was walking the dogs it occured to me it was a test lol and I would just have to keep risking popping the balloon... so today I saw it as more of a game and not the ‘scary balloon popping oh no I lost money!” -not even real money. idk about fun.... all these things were stressful esp the intelligence test. 

today I started the test, thinking it might help me, get insight into what I can do, instead, it discouraged me, I’m what I thought, mediocre and not suited for much, they only gave a “role” to me because they had to give me something. It said the intelligence analyst is inquisitive--when it just said I wasn’t -  idk how this even fits with the test bc analytical? that wasn’t one of the dimensions and doesn’t seem like I scored high on implied analytical powers, same with determined-- 

how can i live with myself being like this, having no role and no future according to any dimension that really counts. don’t want to be plodding away at menial tasks when I want to do something Imaginative, Creative, Intellectual-- ha can’t even do that

oh I’m proving them right, easily stressed and sensitive and reactive -- 

I’m not including the risk assessment bc I don’t think it’s accurate-- I’m really very risk averse in all cases... oh we know that already so. 

~

results (bold/parentheses is mine)

MENTAL HORSEPOWER

Unlike Alan Turing would, you scored moderately low {yay!:(} on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that, on the whole, you struggle with complex mathematical and analytical problems. {so how can I be an analyst?} That said, you can usually spot patterns and find links in data – as long as the information you have been given isn’t too abstract. (I like big picture things.... abstract things... apparently I’m not good at it)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with a moderately low Mental Horsepower score, you are more likely to ‘go with your gut’ when making decisions rather than to apply logic and reason (that’s true.... logic is mystifying. fits with being INFP-- logic is my weakest point). It is unlikely that you will sit down and win a game of chess, and you probably rely on your satnav rather than read a map yourself. (yep.... chess is too much strategy... I can’t see ahead like that .. hm how could I be an analyst)

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are not a very conceptual thinker, you are better in roles where you can do things ‘automatically’ rather than applying any abstract reasoning skills. You are not bad at visual-spatial or mathematical tests though, and with training and practice, your skills will definitely improve.

THE SCIENCE

Mental Horsepower relates to our general cognitive ability and our capacity to think about, reason with, and understand abstract concepts. It particularly links to analytical and mathematical skills, but also covers memory, comprehension, language, learning capacity and judgement. These are hugely significant skills for success at work and in everyday life.

Psychologists have developed all kinds of tests to measure cognitive ability. Some of these involve predicting outcomes from patterns in data (also known as inductive reasoning), while others focus on mentally flipping and rotating images. We use both of these approaches in our Mental Horsepower tests at SPYSCAPE.

Recent neuroimaging research shows that intelligence is linked to brain patterns, and that these patterns are unique to each of us (meaning you can’t change them :(  )– much like our fingerprints. In one study, these brain ‘fingerprints’ were used to successfully predict people’s scores in IQ tests.

While IQ tests are probably the most common method for determining cognitive ability, there is some debate over whether they provide a complete picture. For example, theories suggest that there are many different types of intelligence which are not accounted for in these tests. Still, it is generally accepted that people who score highly on tests of cognitive ability are on the whole better at completing intelligence-related (so that career’s out... if it was ever in lol) tasks in the real world.

~

COMPOSURE

Unlike Jason Bourne, you scored extremely low (low on everything! what a wonderful person!) on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that you are far more vulnerable to stressors than most people (I knew that). You are likely to have a very strong emotional reaction to negative events and your brain becomes highly active when you see something you perceive as unpleasant (like this test!). Although this means you find it hard to relax, it also means you are really tuned in to your surroundings ( and what’s the upside of that? nice consolation prize....)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with extremely low levels of composure, you are highly likely to experience anxiety and burnout. (with things that aren’t really stressful to anyone else. just stepping outside. just being inside-- doing thigns like this.. doing most things actually-- help how can i live) You can be far too critical of yourself (well how do i stop? if this is how I am like), especially when you are stressed (which is almost all the time), and this can make it tricky for you to overcome problems (which is never, which is why I’m still living w my parents). You also dwell on the past far more than people with high composure.

On the positive side, you are responsive to your environment, which means you are more likely to anticipate negative outcomes and find ways to avoid them (like almost everything). You are also sensitive and caring, and your observant nature means you look out for yourself and the people close to you. (what’s the point of that when you can’t do anything, or get to know new people)

IN YOUR WORK

It is unlikely your colleagues will turn to you when there is an emergency or crisis at work. This is because you struggle to keep your emotions in check, and challenging situations can get the better of you. When this happens, you are not great at maintaining focus or making tough decisions.

THE SCIENCE

Composure relates to how our brains respond to stress. In tense situations, your brain activates an area called the hypothalamus, which releases adrenalin and cortisol – also known as stress hormones.

A bit of stress now and then is important for survival, because it alerts us to the dangers around us. Small amounts can be useful, but too much over a long period of time is bad for our health (oh goody). Studies show that the adrenal cortex, the part of the brain that releases stress hormones, is also linked to the healthy function of our immune system – and people who are more prone to stress are also more likely to get sick.

There is also a connection between composure and working (short-term) memory. Composed people perform better on tasks where they need to recall and use relevant information while they’re doing something else – for example remembering the steps of a recipe when cooking a meal.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN COMPOSURE ARE

LAID-BACK

RELAXED

COOL

FOCUSED

POISED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN COMPOSURE ARE

EMOTIONAL

SENSITIVE

PERCEPTIVE

RESPONSIVE

VIGILANT

~

Contentiousness

Unlike diligent Mission: Impossible hero Isla Faust, you scored moderately low on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that unlike Isla, you find it difficult to keep focused on long-term goals {Idk about this. goals are all i focus on.... well. I think about them often but Idk how to create the steps to get there and so things fizzle out and I get-- discouraged what else is new). You get distracted or bored quite quickly and are often drawn to new ideas and projects instead of finishing what you are currently doing (well.... hm. I finish novels...). You understand what is important in life, but you sometimes skip the details. (I’m not a detail person... I can be but they often seem irrelevant)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Because you prefer not to a follow a schedule, hobbies that require regular training are not for you. In fact, your interests change quite regularly, and you find long-term commitment a challenge whatever the activity. Friends and family know that if they want you to do something, they need to encourage you to get organized. When they press you, however, you do things pretty well.

IN YOUR WORK

You take a relatively flexible approach to work. As such, you get distracted easily and do not always complete the task in hand. Because of your tendency to do this, you are likely to change jobs – and perhaps even career – fairly regularly (I want variety... Idk, this sort of fits, sort of doesn’t).

THE SCIENCE

Conscientiousness shapes how likely you are to follow rules, regulate your own behavior and get yourself organized. The more conscientious you are, the more motivated by goals and tasks you are likely to be.

According to what psychologists call the ‘Big-5’ model, conscientiousness is a core dimension of personality – and one of the five key traits that drive human behavior. Whether you are high or low in conscientiousness can help predict your success in social, academic and professional situations.

If you have high levels of conscientiousness, you are probably more productive and better at adapting to new situations (that’s true, I’m not) that come your way. However, this does not mean that being conscientious is always a good thing, because research also shows that being too conscientious can lead to overthinking. (I do that too...)

Some studies suggest that people who are more conscientious are healthier – and they might even live longer. This might be because conscientious people are more likely to exercise regularly, eat healthily, and avoid smoking or drinking too much alcohol.

It’s hard to say where conscientiousness comes from. One study found a link with areas of the brain relating to attention and cognitive control. There is also evidence to suggest that genes play their part. It’s likely that social factors such as your upbringing influence how conscientious you are, too.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

HIGH-ACHIEVING

ACCOUNTABLE

THOROUGH

DRIVEN

SELF-DISCIPLINED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

IMPULSIVE

FLEXIBLE

EASY-GOING

SPONTANEOUS

ADAPTABLE

(I think I’m sort of this, sort of not because I’m borderline INFP -- P is flexible, impulsive while J is more structured-- I’m slightly more Perceiving. goes to show Myers-Briggs is pretty good at describing personality accurately....)

~

INQUISITIVENESS

Unlike Carrie Mathison in Homeland, you scored moderately low on this attribute. Your score was driven by your performance in the personality tests, and it suggests that you are pretty cautious about new ideas, beliefs, cultures and theories.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people who scored moderately low on this attribute, you are not so willing to take on board other people’s views (that’s true). You will consider what people have to say, but you are likely to stick with your own opinion. You feel more comfortable in familiar situations and surroundings (well, yes...), and you do not really feel the need to explore new places (I kind of do, though... I want to but I often... don’t. because it’s too hard).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you aren’t motivated to learn or acquire new skills (Idk about this... depends on if it’s something I’m interested in. I’m learning like 15 languages on Duolingo...), you are less likely to seek out new opportunities at work. And the longer you stay in a job, the worse your motivation is likely to get. In general, you tend to perform better when you start a new position, although you will carry this out using the same approach you always have, rather than approach it in a new way. You like real-world, practical work that has straightforward solutions.

THE SCIENCE

Inquisitiveness is an important trait for discovering new things and building a better understanding of people and of the world around us. Psychologists have developed tools for assessing and measuring how inquisitive a person is.

These are based on extensive research into personality and are designed to evaluate five facets related to inquisitiveness: (i) intellectual curiosity; (ii) aesthetic sensitivity; (iii) active imagination; (iv) attentiveness to inner feelings and; (v) preference for variety.

Furthermore, personality researchers have identified two types of inquisitiveness; ‘epistemic’, which refers to information seeking ( I think I’m more information seeking?) behaviour and ‘perceptual’, which refers to experience seeking.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

CURIOUS

OPEN-MINDED

IMAGINATIVE AND INVENTIVE

CREATIVE

ADAPTIVE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

PRACTICAL

CONSISTENT

TRADITIONAL

HABITUAL

PRAGMATIC

~

SOCIABILITY

A bit like Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, you scored extremely low (yay. well I knew this... and from answering the questions... )on this attribute, which suggests that you prefer to spend time alone and keep yourself to yourself. You avoid parties, meet-ups and other noisy gatherings because you find them overwhelming (wayyyy). If you really have to socialize, you need plenty of quiet time afterwards to help you rest and recharge.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like others with an extremely low sociability score, you don’t like being the center of attention and often struggle to start conversations. You think a lot before speaking and regularly find it hard to express your thoughts and ideas. Because of this, you often let others do the talking, and you don’t take part in small talk either. This behavior means you might come across as socially reactive, and people may think you only talk to them when you feel you really have to (as in, extremely negative, and I shouldn’t exist. although... i do talk to them if I have to.... haha I do take part in small talk because I think I have to. or people will think I’m rude. but I don’t like it. I’m sensitive to how I’m perceived and don’t want to be seen as too antisocial, but I talk to others out of fear not of want... yikes. no wonder no one wants to be around me. well I don't want to be around them. well - I want to be around people I know well. for limited amounts of time... need less to recharge from people I know than strangers. I want to be with them, I don’t want to be with strangers-- it’s only stress and not fun at all. but how do i get past the stranger part to the friend part if I don’t like being with strangers and it’s all stressful adn overwhelming? How do i participate in society, have people to talk to, have any sort of success??? - shouldn't exist.).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are more comfortable working independently (please. HOW???? besides working for myself... haha can’t work for anyone else bc can’t get past the interview, these ^ traits are obvious and not something any employer in their right mind wants), you will be more productive – and much happier – managing your own workload, tackling problems alone, and avoiding company brainstorms and powwows.

THE SCIENCE

How sociable you are can be linked to your levels of happiness, positivity, and wellbeing. In fact, sociability relates to a variety of positive outcomes in life, including how successful you are at work, how well you cope with challenging situations, and even how physically and mentally healthy you are. (yay. I’m doomed. I might as well kill myself now)

People who are highly sociable are more positive emotionally (case in point!) than those who are less sociable. In one brain imaging study, people with a high sociability score had higher levels of brain activity when they saw images of happy faces and other positive emotions.

The same part of the brain that processes emotions also helps interpret information from social contexts, which means we can judge a social situation and then respond appropriately (social situations, like math problems and logic, are mystifying to me. yay the things that are highest linked to success--).

There is some evidence to suggest that highly sociable people might be better at detecting and decoding the meaning of social cues –  including how they analyze and read people’s faces (oh, I know that. I have a hard time judging people’s faces, in fact I often think they are mad at me or judging me by their faces when they probably aren’t. I even have trouble finding out what emotions go with what emoji! besides the basics. i mean why, how are there so many emojis....). This means they are likely to find social interaction easier to deal with than others (lol yes. it’s . not easy. why. do i have to be born like this. always been. hell..).

There is also research to suggest that highly sociable people have more connections between regions of the brain that involve visual stimulus and regions that process social and emotional stimuli. (brains are better, we get it)

Sociability might also be associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which is linked to reward-seeking behavior. It is thought that people who are highly sociable may have an enhanced response to dopamine in the brain, which makes them pursue rewards such as attention, status, power or pleasure. This would explain why, when they get these things, they feel happier or more satisfied.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN SOCIABILITY ARE

TALKATIVE

FRIENDLY

ENTHUSIASTIC

ENERGETIC

EXCITABLE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN SOCIABILITY ARE

QUIET

RESERVED

INTROSPECTIVE

PRIVATE

SHY

^ ALLL negative attributes, I need to just kill myself now, no future. 

[spidermilkshake]

The Origins of my Needle-Phobia are Nested in Complexities

I am extremely terrified of needles. This much anyone who knows me, knows.

This isn’t random. While I am in a good place mentally, I have understood where it probably comes from finally. This idea was brushed on during therapy but I was not 100% ready to admit it fully to myself. I’m ready now, and I think it’s valuable for other people to read and know, and perhaps apply for themselves, if needed. I want be overall positive and to help close or at least recognize scars for other people in writing this. I must disclose I will likely be intoxicated via alcohol when posting this--I have drafted this exploration prior to such a state and alcohol is a substance which assists in suppressing societal bullshit. The fear of judgment is more common I think, and the suppression of second-guessing helps surpass this.

I was never afraid of sewing needles. Those are only tools--they have the potential to harm, of course, as much as someone messing around in woodshop can utterly fuck their thumb into purple shades by not being sure and careful. But the sewing needle is only what it is--it rarely represents something more.

The injection needle. That’s different. I have, since about 12 years of age, been fearful of injection needles for no rational reason. ME, who has a nurse for a mother, who has always wanted to donate blood, has been decidedly unsqueamish at the sight of blood--having had very Goth friends, who have shared bloody but beautiful media, and inspired a love of poetic forms of horror, for a higher purpose, since High School Days before I was fully on the path as a Storyteller. It should be alarming, to say the least, when the queer, Goth-aligned, Drama-club-aligned weirdo suddenly develops an irrational and uncontrollable frantic response when the injection needle--a powerful symbol for Adding What Is Good and Protective to the body--suddenly appears. Unannounced. It puts something in. It ALTERS.

It is a physical embodiment for the most extreme example this former child had of abuse.

My parents no doubt have hurt me. In subtle ways--without even their knowledge. The bookshelves upstairs are lined with beautiful treatises on the proper care and communication with Your Very Loved New Person alongside nursing texts, homesteading advice, fantastical fiction and Sheakespearian classics. Even those parents were not immune. As good as you can hope in the mid to late 90s--still some hurt. I mean, they likely did not expect TWO ace-spectrum kids, never mind the trans one (me) in rural southwest Virginia. But variety doesn’t care. The subtle, society-based harm that seeped through the parents doesn’t compare to him. The more obvious, Pointed Symbol.

It puts something in. It alters.

No, Based on what my mother has reported, I actually no longer fear I was the victim of r*pe. Once, I interpreted something I found in my discarded offal-material, as being embryonic in nature. I was afraid. I was already... Altered.

It stems from control. Abuse. Once, there was a man named Jack Weddon. You can look up his details, his background in criminality, and understand my horror and disjointed memories when I was 12-14. I do not think he assaulted me in that way. But his impact was far from lesser. The injection needle--which was a symbol of putting the good in, for protecting--became replaced with a phallic fear. An unknowing of what took place and a Criminal Doctor Style level of control.

I got injected long before, but then I became aware of how much. So obsessive of binary male power. I could very well have been the needle--but the prior hate wouldn’t allow me to conceptualize in that way. Only the malicious, abusive man, who you feared had the chance to commit the Murder That Doesn’t Kill upon you until you learned you were guarded all night, was allowed to take that place. You were damaged even before then. And you were good all through it.

I became terrified of injection needles only after that point, which has vexed me a long time. Only now do I come to terms with my history of abuse, and fear of the most horrible of abuses to commit against a child, being directly connected with the origins of my needle phobia. It’s a metaphor my mind made without my input. How hideous is it that someone hurt me in such a way that a nearly-idolized symbol of Health and Responsibility became warped into a symbol of the ever-present threat he presented. Mashed-up with societal tropes. Uncreative. Terrible without purpose (aside from the harm of the vulnerable). My brain could not fathom it--without displacing it with the next most powerful Thing.

I will take the injection needle back. I deserve having the Good Added To Me. I was Already Good. I will be Protected, and Protective. I will become a dispensary for this idea--the idea of spreading the good for those who need to be reminded they are already so. That they deserve to be protected. I am not the most broken person by far. It sounds paltry to some, and extreme to others, but you are all in my camp. You all deserve this protection.

You are all good. You can become the Good. It may not be the injection needle for you. It may be something else. You can have the power it had before the harm happened. It was always yours.

[purplesurveys]

1037

survey by joybucket

Do you have a vlog? No, but I’ve always thought it would be fun to start and maintain one. Just never got around to it because it’s so much work, from conceptualizing to shooting to editing; and idk if my humor will translate to the camera. Plus I hate being shot in public, so it would never work out for me.

If not, have you ever considered starting a vlog? Yeah, a lot of times. It just looks like such a therapeutic outlet that I can sink my teeth into. Who knows, if I ever gain more confidence in the future I may just try making a video or two.

Did you go to AM or PM kindergarten? AM. As much as I hated waking up early from ages 4-6, it was nice to be home by noon and it also made for good training for the rest of my years in school.

What are your favorite youtube channels to watch? Good Mythical Morning, several wrestling-themed channels for their weekly lists, and KBS for their Return of Superman clips. I have a lot of other subscriptions, but those are the main ones I’ve been tuning into lately.

Which relative(s) do you look the most like? I get my mom the most, but sometimes I’ll be told I look like my dad as well.

Have you ever watched a live birth video? I don’t think so.

Have you ever given birth? Definitely not.

Do you remember when the Internet was a new thing? That wouldn’t be possible as I wasn’t born yet and by the time that I was, the internet had already been around for a few years.

Do you remember Y2K? I was alive when it happened but barely conscious, so no. I was only 2.

How old were you when the year changed to 2000? I was 1, turning 2 that year.

What was your favorite childhood vacation? We didn’t have lots of vacations when I was a kid, because for most of the 2000s my parents were still busy saving up and climbing up their respective ladders at work. We only started to regularly go on vacations by the time I was around 11, when finances started to get easier to handle. That said, as a kid I really loved the time my parents would bring us to the local water park on weekends.

Have you ever wished you were born the opposite gender? As a teenager when hating pink and general girliness was cool, probably. I don’t wish for it now.

What's your birth order: oldest, middle, or youngest? I’m the eldest.

Do you fit the stereotype for whatever birth order you are? Idk what kind of stereotype you’re looking for, tbh. As much as I don’t really like tooting my own horn, I’ve heard firstborns are usually more intelligent than their younger siblings and I would attest to at least that lol

Have you ever worn overalls? Yup, though they aren’t the denim kind.

If you're a girl, how old were you when you started your period? I had just turned 10. I thought I was going to get it while I was still 9 (the signs had been showing for a while by then), but it ultimately came a month after my 10th birthday. Still, I was one of the rare cases in my family who had it at a lot younger.

Do you get cramps? I used to get leg cramps all the goddamn time as a kid, and they always came in the middle of the night. I don’t get them or any kind of cramps anymore, thankfully; and the only time I do is on my fingers when I don’t hold my chopsticks properly.

Is your mom mentally stable? I think there are definitely some things therapy could fix.

Is your dad a complete jerk to you? No, you’re referring to the other parent.

Where do you want to go on vacation next? Oh my godddddd, Thailand plz.

What is one place you want to visit before you die? Wrestlemania.

Has anyone ever committed suicide in your town, that you know of? A neighbor’s kid passed away a few months ago, but I didn’t know them.

What's your favorite type of crackers? Ritz Bits are where it’s at.

What's your favorite spice? Cumin.

Are you sensitive? Yeah. I’m a little soft and I tend to take a lot of things personally.

Are you intuitive? It wouldn’t be the first word I’d use to describe myself, but I guess I have my moments.

Are you spiritual? No.

Do you wish your life were easier? Um, if it was a legitimate option then yeah obviously.

What color hair did your first crush have? Black.

What was the name of your first crush? Andi.

Did you ever play on Mamamedia.com? I don’t think I’ve heard of that site. If we’re talking of websites that host flash games or whatever it is they’re called, I always hung out on Y8 haha.

Do you remember your first email address? I didn’t anymore before encountering this, but this question made me automatically rack my brain and now I do remember and now I’m wincing as well. 

Did you name your lego characters? I didn’t make any characters, I think. I just liked making towers.

What was/is your high school's mascot? Both my schools don’t have mascots.

What is/was your favorite class in high school? All the history classes we had to take under the social sciences umbrella; it was Philippine history for freshman year, Asian history for sophomore year; world history in junior year; and then unfortunately we made the switch to basic economics for senior year which was like ???? Why couldn’t we have gone all the way with history? Economics ended up being super boring lol.

Is college an adventure? It really was. I grew and learned so much in it and I couldn’t have spent the last four years in a better place and a better school.

Do you take medication for anxiety or depression? No.

If so, does it work? Does it help you? Or does it make you feel worse?

If applicable, what form of birth control do you use?

Who is your favorite cousin? My eldest cousin on my mom’s side, who pretty much feels like my older brother and not a cousin at this point.

Do you look your age? According to most, no. I look a little younger than 22.

What's your favorite flavor of frosting? Chocolateeeeeeee.

Do you like toe socks? I’ve never had to wear those before so I don’t have an opinion.

Muffins or cupcakes? Cupcakes.

Have you ever had a bag stolen? I’ve had a wallet stolen, so kinda.

How old were you when you got your first phone? I was technically still 6 because I had an advanced celebration, but it was for my 7th birthday.

Are you ready for summer?!?! Now that I think about it I do want to go back to summer, just because it was such a vastly different – and a lot happier – time...

Is winter your favorite season? It probably would be if we had it.

How many people do you know who've said winter is their favorite season? Zero.

Are you unique in any way? I think everyone is.

Do you have any hidden talents? if there are any left, I’m not aware of them yet.

Has anyone said you and your mom look like sisters? Just about everyone, all the time.

Who was your best friend in high school? Gabie for the most part, but Angela was there as well.

What book or movie gave you nightmares as a child? Commercials creeped me out as a child, not a certain book or movie.

What song makes you cry? Usually it’s 26 by Paramore, but not always.

Does anyone know who your first crush was besides you? Yeah, I’ve told a couple of people.

How many teachers have you had crushes on? I think around three or four. Possibly more, but I don’t remember all too well as I’ve since discarded a lot of memories from my old school.

Did you make your Barbie dolls get crushes on each other? Nah. I mostly stripped them of their clothes and broke their arms and legs, lol.

Did your Barbie dolls go on dates? Nope. I didn’t have enough dolls to do that, anyway. It wasn’t my toy of choice.

How old were you when you had your first kiss? I was 16.

Do you like church? Hell no.

Do you have scars from self-harm? You’d only be able to make them out if you knew I self-harmed, but I think they’re almost unrecognizable at this point.

Do you have cellulite? It’s only present if I tightly twist my skin.

How old were you when you started getting zits? Not sure, somewhere in the middle of high school. I’ve never had lasting problems with acne though; I only ever get one or two at a time and it happens like, once a year.

Did your hair change at all when you went through puberty? Aside from hair growing in places? No, not really. It stayed the same.

Are you taller, shorter, or the same height as your mom? I’m a tad bit shorter, though for a time it seemed as if my growth spurt would lead me to overtake her.

Would you ever consider adopting a child? It’s not a personal choice of mine, but there could very much be situations in the far future where I would consider doing so. I’m not shutting that possibility down.

Who was your first roommate? I’ve never had one; I haven’t tried living on my own yet.

Have you ever had a teacher who was rude? So many.

Is your mom paranoid? Very much so. She shows some signs of OCD and her paranoia is reflected through that. 

Do you trim your own hair? Not my hair, but I do this with my bangs.

Did your mom read you bedtime stories as a child? No. That’s one of the things I’ll change if I myself become a mom.

What are all the things you remember being for Halloween? Pirate, Tinkerbell, Daria, AJ Lee, Dora the Explorer, Sofie.

What was the name of the first pet that you loved? My first goldfish.

Did you have your own room as a child? Not until I was 10.

What color was your nursery? I wasn’t put in one. I shared a room with my parents and siblings until I was 10.

Did your parents know your gender before you were born? I think they waited it out until a few weeks before I was born.

What is your name (first and middle)? My first name is Robyn and my second is Isabelle; I don’t need to share my middle name.

What would you have been named if you had been born the opposite gender? They never thought about it, which is kinda disappointing because I do want to know what my other name could’ve been.

Do you like your name? I’ve ended up doing so, yes.

What would you name your children? I haven’t cemented decisions that far ahead. I have ideas for names, like Olivia, but they’re nothing absolute. 

Do you exercise regularly? Nope.

Do you have a healthy BMI? No, I’ve always been a little underweight.

What is your favorite season? Wet/rainy.

Do you look like your mom? This is like the third time I’ve answered this within just this survey lol, yes I do.

What is the origin of your last name? Spanish/Portuguese.

What is the meaning of your first name? I’ve heard it means ‘fame.’ I just don’t feel like checking.

What month were you born in? April.

Do you share a birthday with anyone in your family? Nope. But my sister and one of my cousins share the same birthday, right down to the year.

Do you have a sweet tooth? Eh, it comes out every now and then but it’s not all the time. I definitely enjoy savory more.

What photo editing software do you use? None lol, photo editing is one of my Achilles’ heels.

Where do you buy most of your clothes? Tianggeeeeeeeees.

[tocxmply]

ATTENTION, AWARENESS, AND LEARNING [sources: click, click, click, click, click]

         the original plan was to have this as the initial section of my meta about Bucky’s memory (what he remembers vs. what he forgot, essentially) but: 1) i realized that was going to be a massive thing and splitting it might be in my best interest, and 2) memory does not exist without learning and learning does not exist without attention so, really, exploring each step individually might not be a bad idea after all. other than the linked sources, this meta will also build on what i have already discussed regarding the process of brainwashing that underlies the functioning of the Winter Soldier: here. on the other hand, whereas the topic of this meta is not memory, all of these cognitive processes are deeply enmeshed and therefore do not exist as categorically separated as this text may make them look like — these are conceptual separations only (despite the little fancy numbered topics, i end up talking of attention + learning + memory all at the same time), and a degree of overlap will always exist.

1. ATTENTION          starting with the concept that we cannot learn about what we do not pay attention to, then it makes all the sense to ask: what does the Winter Soldier pay attention to? and the answer is: to whatever HYDRA commands him to. the hypnosis protocols (explored in the brainwashing meta) have the purpose, exactly, to fixate his attention on fulfilling the mission goal(s), whatever they may be, at expense of everything else — which, in turn, means that if, he’s not paying attention to, say, his surroundings and the people who are with him, he won’t be able to learn about, and posteriorly remember, this sort of details.

         this brings me to the “i remember all of them” line in “Captain America: Civil War” — which Sebastian Stan himself has already stated was something Bucky said in the spur of the moment, something that Tony wanted to hear while having him literally in a choke-hold. no, he doesn’t remember all of them, much as this is a heartbreaking line with big cinematic impact. i personally headcanon that Bucky remembers Howard Stark, based on the fact that this is someone he met and got to know in the 40s — which is information that comes from the long-term memory, not equally affected by the mind wiping + cryostasis as short-term memory (which i shall explore in more detail in the future memory meta). even so, it’s not clear recollection — more like remembering what that particular mission was about, and remembering faces that, back then, the Soldier could not recognize but that, in retrospect, he’s able to make sense of. i also headcanon that a similar logic applies to the mission referenced in “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”, where Natasha talks of how he shot the man she was guarding through her, and it applies as well to the highway scene in the same movie. for these three missions, long-term knowledge and/or an intense emotional tone allowed for the Soldier’s attention to be highly focused on Howard/ Natasha/ Steve respectively, spanning beyond what the hypnosis protocol dictates. nonetheless, memories of these missions are fragmented and he remembers the associated emotions that these three persons evoked, more than any coherent dialogue or details of that moment.

         in regard to the other targets/ missions, Bucky remembers conceptual information essentially (e.g., the target’s name, what day it was, what the mission briefing required him to do), considering that these targets held no previous meaning to him. because these conceptual details were what his attention was focused on. so, for example, he may be able to remember who was the target assassinated on a specific day and in which way this was done, but he won’t be able to remember what the person was wearing or what their face looked like or who were the handlers for that mission. not only he didn’t pay attention to these details but they would have been wiped in post-mission, anyway. the only memory traces that stay are those which already existed and those that HYDRA allowed him to effectively learn — and these, again, are reduced to information that was necessary for carrying out the mission successfully.

         what consequences does all of this have, once Bucky breaks free from HYDRA? first, what he was allowed to pay attention to is what he is now able to remember, as discussed. and then, it means that his attention span undergoes a big change as soon as it’s “free”, so to speak. now he doesn’t have anyone dictating what to pay attention to — and, whereas this is a good thing, it also implies that the world is suddenly perceived as chaotic. because now he’s suddenly aware of everything that the Soldier never noticed — he perceives faces and colors and shapes and sensations and all else, and this can easily get overwhelming (even the good things).

         again, i will complement/ explore this better in the memory meta, but this is why, in post-HYDRA, Bucky struggles with actions that require short-term and working memory — not only because these brain areas were affected by the wiping, but because his span of attention itself is all over the place. not in the sense of attention deficit disorder, per se, but because there is so much stimulation happening at the same time that he isn’t used at all to be aware of (and now add to this the fact that he is also a man out of his time, as much as Steve, and there is so much to learn anew in this modern world). depending on his general state of mind, his coping may vary from dissociation (just downright shut down everything because he currently has no mental energy to process any of it, so he withdraws instead) to actively trying to process the information he’s being given (and try to understand and make sense of it, and currently being mentally stable enough to pay attention and learn and keep up with all of it).

         nonetheless, this process will frequently be a bumpy one. for example, he will try to pay attention to everything and, in the end, retain none of it exactly because he was so scattered, or he will (consciously or not) direct his attention to one thing only and everything else that is going on will go completely over his head. with this said, and roleplay-wise, you should expect things like your muse having to repeat something before he actually gets it and commits it to memory, or that he won’t be able to follow what your muse is talking about if there is a lot being conveyed in a short period of time (because, by the time your muse finishes, he’s already forgotten what was said at the start, or, instead, he focused on what was said first and didn’t follow anything else), or that your muse expects him to be paying attention but in the meantime something else captured his interest and, by the time your muse realizes, Bucky has gone over to the other side of the street to pet this cute cat while leaving your muse talking alone. exceptions to this are situations that are an actual mission or resembling of it, aka situations with a very well defined goal and where he has very clear instructions to adhere to — exactly because this is what he was trained, for 70 years, to focus on and pay attention to.

2. AWARENESS          again. awareness and attention are two conceptually different things — but with a great degree of overlapping and interdependence. awareness, in particular, refers to directly knowing and perceiving, feeling or being cognizant of events. it’s the state of being conscious of something. so… is it possible to pay attention without being aware? technically yes, and i see this as a particularity of the Winter Soldier, actually. because if you ask him, during a mission: what is your target doing right now? — he knows, he’ll tell you, because he is paying attention to said target. but is he aware of what he’s doing, as in, does he realize he’s about to kill a human being and what this implies at every level? he isn’t. he’s doing it because he was commanded to do it, and weapons don’t question the hand that pulls the trigger. this is possibly the most drastic change that happens in post-HYDRA, because he finally becomes aware — finally regains a sense of being conscious of his actions (and shoutout to Sebastian’s terrific acting at the end of that helicarrier scene in CA:TWS, because with his eyes only he can so clearly depict this change — this moment when the Soldier becomes aware of what he is doing to Steve). and let me redirect to another of my previous metas, re: the dehumanization of the Winter Soldier, because this shift in awareness relies entirely on the human being vs. weapon/asset mindsets: here.

         in post-HYDRA, then, this comes laced with everything i already discussed about attention. the increased capacity to pay attention to the world, once the hypnosis protocol is discontinued, comes hand-in-hand with this rise in awareness — paying attention to the sunlight like you never did before, and being aware that sunlight feels warm on your skin and being aware that, in turn, this is a pleasant sensation. unlike attention, however, gaining awareness brings Bucky a whole lot more demons to deal with — because it makes him conscious of what the Soldier has done and what it implies and, at the same time, it makes him conscious of what was done to him — and this dichotomy fuels a very toxic, very difficult to undo, cycle of guilt/shame vs. paranoia. on the other hand, whereas i don’t want to go into much detail about empathy right now, this also allows him to grow very compassionate and very mindful of his actions — because he knows what the Soldier is capable of, and because he never wants any of it to happen again as far as he can help it. which is why, for example, in my writing post- CA:TWS, a pervasive theme is that Bucky is way more scared of the harm that he can potentially do to others than what can be done to him.

         and a smol extra note, once more based on Seb’s acting because this man’s body language is a heavens-sent: despite everything stated above, i don’t personally believe that the Winter Soldier is completely unaware of what he’s doing. this is speculative, obviously, and no more than my own headcanon, but i really don’t think he is. he’s trained to not question it, and most of the time he doesn’t actively question it (possibly, the only time this happens is the whole “the man on the bridge” moment), but he’s not completely ruthless either — on the contrary. the highway scene in CA:TWS is a perfect example, because we can see how uncaring he is re: his own well-being (hopping off the rail like he does and landing on that car like a ton of bricks, with zero care for his own body), but we don’t see him shooting/massacring any civilians even though he so easily could. he’s solely focused on Black Widow at that point and, yes, this is likely because it’s what the hypnosis protocol dictates his attention be given to, but i personally believe it also comes out of an unconscious desire to do no harm — that belongs not to the Soldier, but to James Buchanan Barnes. one more topic for a future meta!

3. LEARNING          so… i actually feel like there isn’t much left to say about this topic in particular, given how i have already been tapping at it during the two previous ones. the Winter Soldier’s learning relies on two big strategies: classical/ Pavlovian conditioning and operant conditioning (both of which i have explored in the brainwashing meta). and a whole lot of repetition, till he learns what HYDRA wants him to learn — and anything else he casually/ autonomously learns and that is considered unnecessary is taken care of via mind wiping. the biggest implication of this is that, in post-HYDRA, Bucky is a bit like a child learning about the world for the first time. not only he’s in a modern world where so much is new and he doesn’t know about it, but his learning process relies basically only in association of stimuli + punishment or reinforcement. in post-HYDRA, he starts doing trial-and-error in an autonomous manner, he starts doing vicarious learning (i.e., learning through observing other people), he starts learning things by accident in the sense that he wasn’t even trying to but it happened anyway, he starts learning by imitating and doing what others do.

         which brings me to another roleplay thing, and one that i often joke about but that, in fact, happens for real — the fact that all this makes Bucky rather gullible. for example, he will see some modern contraption that he never got to see/use before and he logically won’t have a clue about it, and he will likely believe what he’s told about it — because he has no other reference, because he trusts the person who’s telling him this, because this is how he’s learned things for the past decades. he’s used to being taught, more than to learn on his own, and he’s used to the things he’s taught being the only truth that matters, in typical HYDRA fashion. the difference is that he now is aware of what he’s being told, so if you tell him “go and assassinate the prime-minister” he will obviously know what this is about and why this isn’t a good idea, to say it mildly. also, this doesn’t make him completely oblivious, in the sense of believing everything he’s told blindly and without a sense of criticism — because, yes, he’s got a shitty memory but he can sill use logic and rationality — so if you tell him to cook a sundae in the microwaves he’ll tell you to go screw yourself, because sundae is ice cream and ice cream melts. on the other hand, popular references are the thing that confuse him the most and that are hardest to learn, exactly because they don’t carry this inherent sense of concrete logic — so if you tell him that YEET! is the new way to say good morning nowadays, chances are he’ll start telling it to everyone from there on until he’s taught properly about it.

         to conclude, i just wanna mention yet again the connection with attention — because the limitations i have already discussed obviously have an impact on Bucky’s capacity to learn, in post-HYDRA. generally speaking, this capacity is reduced when compared to the Soldier — not only due to brain damage, but also because the Soldier was exceptionally prepared, through hypnosis, to learn any minimal details deemed necessary (for example, this is how he learned the 16 new languages that add to English and German that he already knew --- this specific headcanon: here). so, it’s not like he now sucks at learning, rather it was the Soldier that was (forced to be) way above the standard level. now in normal conditions, this capacity is more scattered and it fluctuates along with his span of attention — which, in turn, fluctuates along with his mental health status. but he is a curious person and he wants to improve and to learn more, either on his own or with help, and this intrinsic motivation is very important when it comes to adapting to a new life/new world.

[gplewis]

to memory’s landscape

I used to be feral, committed, foaming at the mouth when holding a keyboard

like Ezra Pound said, “Reading should make man intensely alive. The book should be a ball of light in his hands” — writing was that for me, the recycling of nested angst, unresolved childhood rage at unrecognition, not being seen as my therapist said...the same old beautiful white male coastal elite angst (anxiety, depression, fear of not having enough, fear of loss, fear of not living up to some imagined father’s expectations, fear of disappointing, fear of not fitting in, fear of losing housing and healthcare and food budget because I didn’t do enough good work, fear of falling behind

but what you remember saves you:

https://www.jamievaron.com/

Is it true I just haven’t web-designed myself? monetized and profitized and productized myself? gotten enough clients? fans? followers? patrons? do I even want to talk to anyone? do I even want to share my darkness and secrets? or is it so banal that I would not want to even be seen taking up space as if what I have to say is worth hearing? I appreciate your time, I do, and if I could fill it or suggest what to fill it with, I probably wouldn’t put my writing there. I’m becoming increasingly suspect and skeptical that “what I write” and “what I would suggest you read” have anything to do with each other; I don’t know that I’d recommend me — I’m still working it out, still doing therapy in every text box I encounter

all I write about is what I’m not, maybe — or maybe that’s just the dirt I pile to the side of where I dig; maybe where I’m going has nothing to do with what’s coming up; maybe the dirt I pile up next to my active burrowing has nothing to do with what I’ve found or what I see, only what I must clear away

“The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows.” — Michelangelo

it’s not easy to be T.S. Eliot. I wonder if it’s harder to be G.P. Lewis, this thing I’m driving, trying to earn anew if thou wouldst possess it to quote a favorite line of Goethe ~ but I wonder what good this spectacle is of creative man raging against his limits, his inertia, churning up the chorus of opposing critical voices in his head: it’s boring, every man has them, but perhaps other men are trapped, addicted and beseeched by this desire to possess and control, to own and to win, to hold power, to be safe, to ensure safety through money, property, status whereas the poet knows all those safeties are illusions and always stripped away — men keep going to the office and putting on the clothes of their known identity (conceptual clothes; ways of posturing, speaking in a way that holds up power structures) to keep from facing the barrenness and nudity of having to stand with only your soul, with only your way of seeing, your memory and your skills, having to be seen completely by the world, and worst of all, yourself.

Surely a safe career (at least held in the mind as such) is just to keep from looking at yourself. One can say it’s for money, for the mortgage, for the children’s education, and it might be. But when night falls and everyone’s self gets blurry and disintegrated (as the cosmic summons back all its children for a night’s rest) we become aqueous; there are no walls, no one owns a thing...and the poet returns to his daytime work, the hammering, chiseling and engineering of a thing on a canvas (or in a file, or at a URL like this Tumblr post) that might make such men of industry see that they must become poets, initiate a softening, a milkifying, a creaming ~ becoming a different kind of material, being open to the ecstatic, the tender...I am here, perhaps, to rescue men from taxes and accounts, from holdings and balances (or maybe I just need to be rescued from them? Wouldn’t I clamor if a corporate woman came and wanted me as her house cat? Wouldn’t I be glad not bringing in revenue, being a homemaker, raising the child, even having some help to come in every morning so I could write? Is it possible? Is it almost here? Have I just not wanted it enough until right now? Is this what I want?

I think that’s the most spacious question one can ask: what do I really want? And it’s at war against just one enemy: what is expected of me; outstanding credits on the account of you, your becoming, where you think you’d like to go, what you think you’d like to do. What’s allowed. And this is where art must become the central force of any adult’s life (rather than checking work email or social media, hunting for inconsistencies or apparent facts that threaten one’s sense of what should be happening...perhaps the poet’s sensibility is that no one knows and no one can really know what ought to be happening, that it’s still an open question, that we are all swimming in that question and in fact we should leave all our clothes on the shore and swim out, trust our nakedness, trust the water, forget the fear we’ve had of each other, forget the fear of being touched...putting ourselves in each other’s hands, forgetting nations, forgetting governments, forgetting private property and accounts...can we do it? Mustn’t we? Is this not essential work? The work of shedding what we’ve been afraid of, cracking the shell of our scared ego and letting us become full-fledged spiritual beings having a human experience? Can we see a hundred years out? A thousand?

So what if this is an unhinged rant? Don’t we need some visionaries who insist on saying what they see even if there’s no profit motive, no agenda, no “trying” to “get” something? This is all proof that nothing can be gotten, that none of us get above being a floating eyeball reporting what it sees and what it feels. We are naked. We are only just beginning to see the light, crawl to shore and make our first night together with our bedfellow: patience, faith, solitude, gratitude, awe.

These are the nouns a poet must reclaim. These are the nouns that should fill the mainstream airwaves, that the young people should dance to and text about. But everyone does it themselves — I did. I listened and learned and took notes and lived in those notes, eschewing other ladder-climbing. No, I descended, I did not climb. The real estate upwards is all contested; only in the deep descent would I find no friction ~ and so I left the workforce. My LinkedIn profile is true (Geoff Lewis 🎨 ✍🏻 I think I’m called there) but I walked away from seeing myself in terms of organizations — the only aristocracy I’m interested in is the aristocracy of passionate souls: painters, poets, actors, musicians, composers, scientists, madmen, freaks, sideshow clowns...independent contractors, public amateurs committed to the form and the flow and the lineage and their own seriousness — yes, seriousness is a home, a hearth, a homeland. I want — no, I long, I yearn to meet and be with my countrymen. Need we go to war? Against what? The U.S. government not giving us another stimulus check? The array of paperwork and bureaucracy keeping the money out of our hands? Need I really turn back and brand myself, take up the arms of calendar and email and prostrate in front of a potentially paying customer? Why does money rankle me so deeply? Am I existentially furious that I’m intertwined with commerce which is necessarily about oppression and domination and withholding? What can my passion do? Is it OK that my passion only shows itself in silence? Maybe this voice of mine could animate you, a young activist, someone who doesn’t aspire to spend five hours a day every day in silent solitude reading and writing...everybody needs a job. 

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on House of X #3

Ah, back to HoX in what feels like the first time in forever.

Death and Memory:

As we might expect for an issue that concerns itself entirely with a special forces mission, the issue starts with an exploration of the psychology of the participants - starting with Scott himself, although the idea of a mission leader who has to overcome his fears and doubts for a higher purpose isn’t particularly novel for the genre. 

Throughout HoX/PoX, there’s a significant part of the fandom that has focused on question of consent - which is something we’ll definitely get into in this and future posts - but it’s noticeable that this discussion doesn’t include this segment, where Scott is very careful to describe the mission as done by “people who accept the mission for what it is” who “understand the stakes and the risk.”

I like how the responses from Cyclops’ superiors not only emphasize the themes of the series but also the character of the speakers: Xavier’s response is (a bit too?) intimate, talking about Scott’s thoughts with the first-hand knowledge of a lifelong mentor who is also a telepath, emphasizing the concept of “family” which we’ll see bandied about through House of X #6, and most crucially promising him that “you’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.” As we learn later, Xavier is being quite literal.

By contrast, Magneto’s speech is all high politics, emphasizing the righteousness of the mission, the Achillean route to immortality “by their mighty works,” and the role that national myth plays in turning real people into icons that live on after their death. We’ll see quite a few Krakoan Founding Fathers as the series goes on, from the Five to the Quiet Council. Given the existential nature of the threat that Cyclops’ team are facing down, it’s not surprising that they’re treated with a bit of Nathan Hale hero-worship. 

So let’s talk about the team composition. As people have noted, while some of them make a lot of sense (you need psychics, you need teleporters, you need sneakers and fighters), others are a bit odd. Archangel’s an odd inclusion, given the restrictions the mission will place on flying, although to be honest we don’t know what his or Husk’s role was supposed to be, because they never get to do anything. 

Focusing more on the broader parameters of the mission: Cyclops is quite up-front about Mother Mold as the proximate danger and Nimrod as the ultimate danger, as well as the no “taking Krakoan fauna with us.” I would agree that Mystique’s body language and dialogue wrt to maybe breaking that rule are quite suspicious here, but if there is any significance to this plot thread, it’ll have to wait for Powers of X #6 and/or Dawn of X.

Incidentally, I don’t buy at all arguments from some elements of the fandom that the X-Men are being mind-controlled or are pod people - we see Archangel and Husk disagreeing with Monet, Cyclops clashing with Mystique...and between Wolverine and Marvel Girl. Prefiguring her role in establishing the Second Law of Krakoa, Jean Grey argues for sparing the “human crew” as non-combatants (”they’re not soldiers in the war...they’re just scientists”), whereas Logan argues that the Orchis crew are constructing “machines to exterminate a species,” making them war criminals as well as military personnel. 

Incidentally, I really like the Krakoan flower on the Blue Area of the Moon being used to boost the X-Men’s space capabilities. It’s a lovely sci-fi touch, and one that shows Krakoa as both innovative and outward-facing but also expansionist if not outright colonialist. 

Machines Infographic:

It’s really hard to discuss Sentinels without thinking about Hickman’s other infographics about ascending hierarchies of machine intelligences.

It’s highly significant that the Alpha Sentinels are set aside from those above them as non-sentient and non-replicating...hence why they are referred to as “drones,” which suggests an insect metaphor. (Incidentally, the original Alpha sentinels seemed to have some awareness, so there’s clearly some retconning going on.)

the Master Mold is replicating, adaptive, and self-aware, all higher functions that we associate with...well, human beings (and maybe AIs?). And yet the Master Mold is clearly lesser than the Mother Mold, because it “is incpabale of improving beyond its ultimate Sentinel state” - in other words, because it lacks the full range of cognition and imagination.

Mother Molds can not only produce Master Molds, but it can also produce Nano-Sentinels who have no limits to their abilities - it’s all very similar to how Hickman conceptualizes Omega mutants vs. the rank-and-file.

While much of HoX/PoX have focused on the threat that Nimrod poses, I’m surprised we haven’t seen as much discussion about what the way that Hickman describes the Omega Sentinels tells us about Karima Shapandar’s role. 

Most importantly, however, we get an info-dump about what Moira learned in her 9th Life (which also shows how Moira continues to exert influence on the plot from behind the scenes): it turns out that “while emergent A.Is are unavoidable, an anti-mutant Nimrod is not.” We don’t know why that’s the case, and I’m really curious whether part of the plan has something to do with creating a mutant or mutant-friendly emergent A.I, possibly through the Cerebro database. 

It’s particularly ominous that we haven’t seen any follow-up on what the “incomplete” Nimrod origin files might mean - did the X-Men miss a backup or a failsafe? Did they get the ordering of Mother Mold and Nimrod wrong? Or is it just a dropped plot thread?

One thing that I like is that Sleeping Giant, Moira’s new plan, involves essentially an Orchis protocol for the Orchis protocol, looking for humans reaching “technological thresholds” at the same time that Orchis is looking for mutants reaching their own thresholds. 

Project Achilles Infographic:

I’m not surprised that much of the fandom have focused on the nature of the Krakoan legal system, but I am surprised we’ve seen so little focus on the “Project Achilles” legal system. 

To begin with, it’s not a good sign that someone who committed crimes in New York City is being tried in a super-max prison somewhere in the snowy mountains. Even more troubling is the discussion of “extra-constitutional requirements” of running this prison.

Finally, while it might be a bit pedantic, there’s osmething really really weird about the Department of State, the branch of government that’s supposed to be involved with foreign policy and diplomacy, running a domestic federal prison. The Federal Bureau of Prisons is a real thing, and there’s a good reason that it falls under the Department of Justice. Again, all this should be troubling.

 A Fair Trial?

Things don’t get much better when we get inside the courthouse, where we see an armed judge chatting with an armed and armored Attorney General, whereas the defense is a clearly intimidated civilian. 

The facade of justice begins to slip even more when the judge says “we’re charging your client” (judges don’t charge defendants, prosecutors do), and then brings up a “twelve-strike rule” that seems to follow the logic of “felony murder” in that the “intent” of the accused no longer matters.

For his part, Sabertooth is clearly enjoying playing the role of the outlaw, establishing his position that as far as he’s concerned, his physical strength places him above judgement or punishment. Something to keep in mind when we get to the question of assessing Krakoan law. 

With her scent if not her reputation greatly preceeding her, Emma Frost arrives on the scene in a characteristic burst of high style and ominous undertones. The Cuckoos’ casual anti-human bigotry, equating humans with “monkeys...using tools...playing at civilization” suggests a poisonous reflection of the old Neanderthal/Cro-Magnon analogy. On the other hand, the White Queen and her “daughters” struggling with the new paradigm of mutant names > human names suggests that building a new, separate, mutant culture is more of a struggle than Magneto would like to admit.

As someone who’s very much interested in the nation-building side of the House of X story, the idea that the nascent nation-state of Krakoa would have negotiated for extra-territoriality is quite fascinating. At one and the same time, we’re shown the need for it - everyone from the judge to the prosecutor to the bailiffs are instantly drawing guns on un-armed defendant counsel and making it very clear that the judge had concluded that “that...thing is a killer” before the trial started - but we can’t ignore the long history of extra-territoriality as an expression of imperialism, either. 

Then again, I wonder how much of the reaction of Western readers is due to the fact that we’re not used to seeing the U.S on the receiving end of demands for extra-territoriality. I wonder how people from countries that were formally colonized or made to sign “unequal” treaties feel about this storyline? 

In the face of knee-jerk violent responses, Emma gets very personal about her diplomacy. She doesn’t use mind control to get her way, because the State Department has already given her all the leverage she needs by granting diplomatic immunity to “all Krakoans on United States soil.” That being said, as much as Emma is here to make a political point that “mutants won’t be judged in human courts,” she isn’t afraid to push back on Tolliver by threatening to make very clear how little the gun matters in “equalizing power dynamics.”

Omega Cycle Infographic:

This infographic is something of a sleeper - I haven’t seen much if any discussion with regards to Karima Shapandar’s role in either X^1 or X^2 timelines. However, it establishes quite clearly that the process of creating Omega Sentinels is a horrific violation of consent, where a person’s “host systems and organs” are replaced well before the “human host becomes aware of the combine consciousness.” Note the explicit comparison to “recovering from trauma.”

I’ve seen it asserted repeatedly that  Karima Shapandar sided with Orchis (or later on with the Man-Machine Ascendancy) because she was excluded from Krakoa, without much evidence cited. This infographic suggests another reason - by proceeding from Union to Adaptation, Karima’s consciousness may have been altered, changing her allegiances along the way. 

There are also implications for Ascension in the X^3 timeline - is “integration of host and machine” a process of cultural exchange and preservation or a hostile process of “infection”?

Crossing the Heller-Faust Line:

Before the action kicks off, we get an interesting thesis: “self-preservation is entirely rational...it’s the panic it produces where errors get introduced.” Throughout the next two issues, we see both sides acting in the name of self-preservation, but also constantly making decisions that ratchet up the body-count.

The initial context has a lot to do with Hickman’s fixation on the mechanical singularity and trans-humanism: continuing her X^2 interest in preserving humanity-qua-humanity, Omega Sentinel’s fear is that an out-of-control Mother Mold will result in the grey goo scenario, if the Sentinels’ drive to wipe out mutants leads them to wipe out humans as the source of mutation. It’s certainly easier than fighting the sun.

Indeed, throughout the next two issues, we will see humans wrestle with their fears of their own mechanical creations: Sol’s Forge is set up with failsafes to jettison Mother Mold into the sun, Dr. Gregor doesn’t initially want to wake up Mother Mold until the A.I has passed a test for sociopathy. We’ve seen what it looks like when A.Is fail this test, and it’s not pretty.

 At this point, the X-Men arrive and what proceeds is a back-and-forth volley of both sides trying and failing to outflank the other. Both Krakoa and Orchis were “expecting to be fully online before we got their attention” and find themselves thrown into a fight before they were fully ready, and their improvizations make things more violent: first up, Orchis calls in the “drones from Mercury” (again with the terra-forming) who will kill Marvel Girl, all in the name of “a little fight for the survival of their people.”

Next, Kurt teleports onto the station to double-check their information and runs into Omega Sentinel - at this point, both sides are willing to talk, Omega Sentinel recognizes her opponent as a person and seeks to understand the X-Men’s psychology.

By contrast, Gregor and Erasmus under-estimate their foe with “a linear plan for a non-linear foe,” allowing the mutants to bypass the hanger bottleneck. Erasmus responds with the assymetric response of a suicide bomb, but I think there’s a fundamental ambiguity as to whether he’s doing this in the name of “whatever it takes to build a better world” or whether he’s doing it in the name of “don’t let them win.”

And so the X-Men lose their ride home, in what turns out to be only the first of many fake-outs.

[daresplaining]

thoughts on the Inferno arc from Dematteis?

    I have to admit, that arc isn’t one of my favorites, and I’m not a big fan of DeMatteis’s run as a whole. It just doesn’t do much for me. The dead sex worker plot point is one of my least favorite parts of Man Without Fear, and I dislike that DeMatteis felt the need to drag it into 616 continuity. Matt already killed someone during his first outing as Daredevil, as established way back in DD #1, so all that addition/retcon/whatever it is did was muddle up the timeline. It’s also one of the few Daredevil stories that depicts Matt as kind of religious, which is a characterization that, personally, isn’t my thing. (There’s nothing wrong with it, of course! I just don’t find it interesting, and I’m often baffled that so many people seem to see it as an integral part of his character, since it’s practically nonexistent in the comics.) And Sir is an uncomfortable villain for a number of reasons, mostly involving depictions of transgender characters in media, which I don’t feel informed enough about to properly discuss. Thematically, their story aligns with Matt’s plotline of self-discomfort and repression, but character-wise, I will say that I don’t find them to be a particularly interesting or memorable antagonist. Overall, it’s a strange, somewhat convoluted story. 

    On the other hand, there are parts of “Inferno” that I really like– most notably, the reintroduction of the “real” yellow-suited Daredevil as a symptom of Matt’s identity-centered mental breakdown. 

[ID: Two panels from DeMatteis’s run. Foggy is sitting in his office at his desk, and Yellow Suit Daredevil is perched on top of the desk.]

Matt: “Better spread the word, counselor: Daredevil’s back. The real Daredevil. And tell that phony running around abusing my name– to watch his back!”

[ID: Foggy watches in shock as Daredevil jumps out the window.]

    The identity issues in this arc and the arcs that come both before and (especially) after it are a little difficult to follow, since they are so abstract, but conceptually, I find them interesting and fun. DeMatteis’s run takes place after Matt has faked his death and reinvented himself yet again. He is isolated from his loved ones– Foggy and Karen at the time– and is living a life that is, by design, almost entirely separate from his existence as Matt Murdock. His civilian identity is a con artist, and his Daredevil identity is notably dark and brutal. He has been through two major psychologically-jarring experiences: Elektra’s resurrection and Glori’s sudden violent death, the latter of which serves as a direct catalyst for his mental breakdown in “Inferno” and the following arc. As much as I’m not a fan of the actual reason for this– the Man Without Fear plot point being clumsily integrated in 616 Matt’s past, as discussed– I do really enjoy the side-effects of Matt’s shattered psyche. We learn that he has repressed a horrible memory– a memory that directly impacts his sense of self by making him feel like a murderer. Even before he fully unearths the memory, it causes him to feel like he doesn’t know himself. And this, coupled with his mental breakdown and lack of tethers to his former life, causes his decades of identity compartmentalization to come to the surface and make him literally feel like multiple separate people.

[ID: A panel of Yellow Suit Daredevil posing dramatically on a rooftop in the rain. The faces of other DD characters are outlined in the cityscape behind him.]

Caption: “He’s haunted… as much by what he can remember as what he can’t. He knows who he is, at least: Daredevil. The real Daredevil! The one who stopped the Owl, the Purple Man, and Mister Fear– the Daredevil people admired and emulated. He knows, too, that something drove him away from this city. From his friends: Karen, Foggy, Matt. Matt? Was Matt his friend? Maybe once. A long time ago.”

    Yellow Suit Daredevil insists that he is not Matt Murdock, that he is a Daredevil who existed before Matt Murdock took on that identity. In other words, he is a product of Matt’s very earliest approach to heroing and the first Daredevil creative team’s way of presenting his identity. He is, in fact, this quote from Daredevil #1 brought to life:  

“I’ll see to it that Matt Murdock never does resort to force… but somebody else will…! Somebody totally different from Matt Murdock…”

    This initial compartmentalization was necessary for Matt to allow himself to directly disobey his father’s wishes. It was only later that Matt Murdock and Daredevil stopped being written with two distinct personalities, and Matt relaxed that sense of identity separation. In DeMatteis’s run, Yellow Suit Daredevil doesn’t think he has hypersenses– because he’s not Matt– but he doesn’t know who he actually is. (Technically, he’s… probably Mike. I’m just sayin’.) Yellow Suit DD identifies himself as the happy, upbeat Daredevil, the one people look up to and admire, and resents Matt Murdock for becoming a darker and more morally complex figure after taking on the identity. In a metafictive way, DeMatteis is commenting on the tonal shifts in Daredevil comics over the years, and I love that. 

[ID: Two panels of Yellow Suit Daredevil punching a heavy bag.]

Caption: “He’ll stop Murdock the way he stopped Batlin. No more frauds. No more liars. It’s time for Daredevil to be a hero again. A real hero. Not some cheap, soulless thug hiding behind a hero’s mask.”

    In-universe, the implication is that Matt, as part of his mental breakdown surrounding his repressed memories of committing murder, is reverting back to that first DD identity– the safe one, the uncomplicated one, the PG-rated Silver Age one who would never kill anyone– at least, not directly. (This in itself is funny, because Matt indirectly killed people all the time in early Daredevil comics, but this story is more about Matt’s warped view of the Good Old Days than it is about accuracy). From that safe vantage point, Matt feels comfortable resenting himself for all of the darkness in his recent life. His discomfort with his own actions causes the identities he has built for himself over the years to literally manifest separately in his mind. This becomes exacerbated in the following arc in wonderfully mind-bending ways. I don’t think that’s how mental breakdowns actually work, but this is comics, and I find it compelling… if a little hard to follow, logistically. 

   I also enjoy the fact that this horrible point in Matt’s life is when Foggy learns his best friend is Daredevil.

[ID: Karen is kneeling on a bathroom floor, holding Matt in her arms. He is wearing the yellow Daredevil suit but his mask is off. Foggy is standing over them, scratching his head.]

Foggy: “I don’t understand any of this! Matt’s– alive?! Wh-what’s he doing in that costume?! How did he–?!”

Karen: “Not now, Foggy. Not now.”

    It’s random, it’s accidental, it’s incredibly upsetting, and it is a while before Foggy is even able to discuss it with Matt, at which point Matt basically brushes it off and they both move on. On the one hand, I would have loved to see more emphasis placed on this moment– arguably one of the biggest events in DD history– and I was delighted that the Netflix adaptation gave that to us in Season 1 episode 10. But I also enjoy the imperfections of the 616 version. It’s not a big fairytale moment, and something about that messiness appeals to me.

[hylukotranslations]

Pati Pati - vol 76, April 1991 Album: Kurutta Taiyou (Mad Sun) 2nd picture is a visual representation for the track: M・A・D

Hisashi Imai (Guitar) Interview by Takashi Haga (Pati Pati)

I've heard that the tracklist of this album was your idea.

I had around 10 versions, and chose the one that had the clearest flow and I also wanted the whole to have a story. The beginning is, I would say, straight... the first half goes as if it rushes, in the middle part there is a kind of drama, or it rather becomes complex... and after becoming complicated it disappears. The tracklist that Acchan had found was almost the same, so we decided to choose the one or the other.

About a story, we can imagine several versions, right ? And you effectively made around 10 patterns, so why the story took this turn ?

I simply didn't wish it to end by a happy end, I wanted a kind of surreal ending. Like if one is approaching little by little the truth. I had the image of the hero who understands everything in the end. And then, he slowly vanishes.

About this surreal ending, did you have that image before making this album ?

Not that concretely. In the beginning, while drinking, Acchan and I were saying that we wanted the album to have a dramatic structure. Yet, while making the songs, I wasn't thinking that much about the story, and it was when Acchan's lyrics were added and everything was achieved that I began to see the story.

Then it was by chance that you've searched a story in the tracklist.

At the very end, yes.

It seems the more you make albums the more Buck-Tick reinforce their total side. I'm wondering if you, Imai-kun, has a direction of making albums as conceptual ones.

I think it would become like that if before making the songs I had strong ideas... But in the end it doesn't go that far. I think our albums look always like conceptual ones. Since I don't want them to resemble "a compilation of little pieces". I think I want to create an universe in each album.

Your way of making songs was to combine in the end melodies that appeared separately in your mind, right ?

Yes.

But you said that for this time you proceeded in the order by making first the rhythm and beat.

I mostly determined first the rhythm patterns... like making the songs from their framework.

Where this change of mind comes from, for making the songs from their framework ?

There wasn't really a trigger... This was in relation with the songs' beat effects....... When the melody A changes into the melody B, I wanted the scene not to change completely, but to have an impression of continuity.

Does this mean that apart from your play, you are beginning to look at the songs in their globality ?

Actually, once we began the recording, the more the sounds were recorded, the more I wanted to see the whole aspect of the album. When I was making the demo tape, I was concentrated on each song, and was also thinking about the play of the others parts.

How do you think this way of making songs, which is diametrically opposed to the one at your debut, is linked to the result of this album ?

It happens that it became easier to do the arrangements. I could think at the same time about the arrangements and the melodies.

From the stage of the demo-tape ?

Yes. Before, I was first finding the melodies and was adding chord progression on them... and did the arrangements at the end, so somewhere it didn't harmonise well... And there were songs that seemed similar.

From the point of view of the arrangements, I've noticed that your approach to the noise is greatly changing.

Yes, that's right.

For example in "Aku no hana", you were considering noise as noise, but in this album I had the impression that you used noise as SE.

This time I wanted to combine the band sound and something electric. Among that there was of course noise... And I thought that what would be in charge of this would be my guitar... I wanted sounds that won't let feel guitar...

Sounds that won't let feel guitar ?

Yes. Using effects, I wanted more... an approach near of the one of keyboards.

Was it a proposition done to all the members ?

No, that was personal. While making songs I had this idea... Of course, for the drums and the bass I wanted band sound, without using digital recording... We were all thinking about "live sounds". Then I thought it could be interesting if we added guitar sounds of the techno family.

A kind of combination between something in which blood circulates and something which doesn't have blood...

In a way it's that kind of impression. Moreover, I wanted arrangemens that would be more precise, that would fit together.

Arrangement that fit together ?

In guitar bands it often occurs that there are here and there rough stuffs, something imprecise... I wanted to avoid doing something that hasn't precise divisions. How to say... I wanted the divisions of such bar and such other one to be precise. And I didn't want hard rock like sounds that let guess the framework, but sounds that would be thinner.

A moment ago you talked about "live sounds", and it seems that it would be quite difficult to reproduce effectively the nuances of this album in lives.

Well... it won't be exactly like in the album, since we also used a sequencer (for the recording). I think that in lives I'll use as much as possible a guitar synthesiser to compensate that.

It's true that from your first album the synthesiser was introduced, but until now you could reproduce the world of your songs in lives, right ?

Until now, I 've been quite putting limits to guitar dubbing and keyboards, thinking about the lives, and this time I didn't that much think about it. Since I thought that if I was considering that during the recording, I could twist the quality of the album... so, I made it excluding the lives from my head.

This was your very first attempt ?

Yes.

Since when does this change of mind date ?

Since I've begun to make this album.

Do you think that you'll go on in that direction ?

....................... Probably......

Does this mean that you've found a different type of pleasure in making an album and playing in lives ?

Yes. This time I've greatly felt the pleasure of making an album. Even if I was exhausted (laughs). Like if I could finally make actively an album... I've greatly felt the sensation of "making an album".

I think that the fact to be "positive" that way is to enjoy the process of trial and error.

I had images about the tones and phrases... and since it was the first time that I did this approach of electric guitar, first of all I had to try it... And since once in the studio I was working from the beginning for approaching these images... it took me a very long time (laughs). Because I wanted to change the tones for each fragment... or rather each phrase.

Hence this need of a huge number of guitars and effecters (laughs).

Yes (laughs).

By the way, you can construct the image you have only with the tones and phrases that you already know, right ? Then, how do you link that with the new tones that you have discovered ?

This is completely with the impression that the songs give. There is also the "positioning" : I consult the engineer and we discuss about where to put such sound and how to make it sound. We wanted that while listening to the songs with a headphone, the sounds would fly around people's head... In this meaning, this album is the most studied one.

The sound positioning seems actually complex (laughs). Do you have the sensation to have cut on the CD the world that you have in your head as it is ?

Yes, I wanted sounds that are in relief... or rather visual. I originally had as a theme a psychedelic impression of relief.

For example, when it's recorded with a 4ch like Van Halen, I think this kind of positioning is originally agreeable for people's physiology. In the contrary, it seems that you address people's feeling of physiological reject, right ? The fact that you think about the importance of the noise goes the same way.

It's true. I've been having in me for a quite long time sounds that give a disagreeable sensation. And it's recently that I could show that in the forefront.

You were using a dummy head (mike that has the forms of a human head).

Only for the vocal recording... in "Angel Fish" and "MAD". I put on the dummy head a newspaper and crumpled it (laughs).

You have recorded that this way ?

Yes, the phrases of the newspaper. (laughs) I wanted before all to record something with that mike (laughs).

And about this problem song (laughs) : "Brain, Whisper, Head, Hate is noise". I still can't feel your intention to construct it as "lyrics". (laughs)

Yeah (laughs).

After reading it several times, I still can't understand (laughs). As an image, I would say it's about "antagonism and fusion" between the analogue and the digital...

...... Human beings are being born... learning more and more things, they commit misdeeds...... Apart from that... I've heard that in our body's cells the memory of our former life was input...... That's what it is about......

This is "Dogura Magura" (movie)

I saw it. It's this kind of impression... It goes round and round...

--fin

translation: hyluko [livejournal] scans: tigerpal [livejournal]

NOTE: these translations are not mine also might not be very accurate. i took them from hyluko’s site using the wayback machine. thought they’re great to share. if the owner is around and wants me to take them down i will!

[biandnotreadytotry]

I know it’s been like 3 months since the series finale, but dammit I commited to this fic so I’m gonna finish it.  This is the only thing keeping me sane in the midst of this permanent hiatus.  The premise is simple, Canon Tyrus moments from the POV of TJ(well mostly canon, obviously I had to fill in some blanks).  It’s been so fun digging into his pysche, and I’m so excited I finally got to the Shiva/Challah chapter.  I present to you a boy, his adventures in making homemade Challah, and some protective friends.  Enjoy!

Cy: I'm not okay.

The text had been random, sent in shortly before bedtime on Thursday.  It immediately set me on edge.  I nearly sat up in my bed as I read it.

TJ: What's going on??

Cy: My Bubbe just passed away  😭😭😭

He always talked about his grandma.  This old woman seemingly full of stories and adventures, and honestly—it sounded like—a shock that she survived as long as she did.

Evidently her time actually had been numbered.  I was deeply sorry for Cyrus and his family.

I was lucky not to really know death.  I mean, my grandparents on my mom's side had passed, but I never really knew them so I didn't know any better.  I can't even begin to imagine what Cyrus and his family were going through.  I didn't even know what to do, or what to say.

TJ: Oh no, Cy, I’m so so sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?

Cy: Well, we’re having a Minyan in a couple days.  It’s like a memorial.  At my mom’s house  It would mean a lot if you came.

TJ: Of course, I’ll try to be there

Of course that was my ‘cool’ and 'collected' answer, that I’d try to be there.

The truth was, it was the morning of the Minyan now, a Saturday, and I'd somehow roped Billie into driving me around town for the past hour.

And here I was, searching on my phone desperately for every grocery store within a 30 mile radius, while I fielded texts from my teammates.

I guess I was thankful that I had finally started to make genuine friendships with my other teammates—a side effect of actually speaking to them—and I was equally thankful they actively attempted to involve me in their pick up games.  Things were looking up, things were going to be okay.  And for that, I was happy that things were starting to feel normal again.

But my formerly made plans to play pickup basketball with them every Saturday afternoon until the end of time would have to wait, because it would mean a lot if I came.

Of course, I couldn't think of a good lie, and I couldn't just not show up— because pickup basketball was a sacred art, especially when it involved 2v2—so instead of saying the truth I decided to come up with an elaborate lie that involved being grounded.

I'd feel bad about making their game uneven later.

“This kid always gets you in a mood,” Billie chuckled as we stopped at what felt like the 50th bakery in Shadyside.  After an hour of this, she was clearly done with me; but I think she so genuinely enjoyed seeing me so riled up, that she went along with it just to see how long it would take me to crack.

“Why don’t they have Challah?!” I groaned as I stomped back to her car.  I was honestly getting so frustrated.  Why did it have to be Challah that I chose?  Why couldn't I just go with a different bread?  Or a different food?  And why didn't they sell it anywhere?

“Maybe because it’s a Jewish bread." Billie chuckled, laughing even harder as my eyes widened in realization, "You’d have better luck at a Kosher store.”

“So we should go to a Kosher store?” I glared at her for laughing at me but I quickly jumped into the car, ready for my new mission of finding a Kosher store.  I can't believe I didn’t even think of it, “We should go before I end up being super late to this thing.”

Billie slowly entered the car, sat down quietly, and inched her seat-belt into the holster.   After what felt like an eternity of her taking her time, she very calmly sighed at me, “We can’t go to a Kosher store, TJ.”

Admittedly overly emotional about it all because I was stressed, and annoyed at her dramatic way of telling me, I immediately snapped at her, “Why not?!”

“Because it’s Shabbat.  The Jewish Sabbath.  Those stores are closed today.”

Who was she?  “How the heck do you know this?”

“Sarah?  One of my best friends is Jewish, dude.” She flicked my bicep, “One of your best friends is Jewish now too, you should learn these things.” She paused, “I mean…the fact that you took the time to find a Jewish bread  on the internet but didn’t take the time to realize it was Shabbat is like super hilarious though.”

“So what do I do?” I snapped at her, flustered, “I was gonna’ head over in an hour.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.  Make some, homemade?”

I glared at her.

“What?  Like the two of us mutually haven’t baked enough with dad we can’t figure this thing out?  What else are you gonna’ do?  You clearly already committed to this bread.”

I groaned at her, because she was right.  I had committed.  I could do it.  We could do it.

But also?  I was shocked she was even remotely willing enough to help me at all.  I know she needed to leave in like an hour.  She had things to do today.

Thankfully, I had one less thing to worry about because we ended up finding all the ingredients we needed in the small grocery store around the corner from our house.

Within a half hour of this plan coming together we were already getting to work.

Well mostly Billie, who was trying to get as much set up as possible so that she could leave me without having me be completely helpless.

Not that I would be, I mean, I've made bread a couple times before.

Except like not alone, so that part sort of scared me.

I groaned when we read the directions after we finished kneading the dough.  Like realistically I should have known better because I’ve made bread with dad before, but my anxiety made the concept of waiting seem so completely unreasonable I couldn’t even begin to figure out how long I actually had to wait.

And what's worse, Billie even told me how long it would take and my brain refused to process what an hour and a half even meant.  It was a meaningless number to me, and that frustrated me too.  God, I hated having Dyscalculia.  It was so inconvenient.

I hated it got worse when I was stressed.  After trying to conceptualize the number for nearly two minutes I finally groaned at her, "I have to let it rise for a whole hour and a half?!  What time is that, anyways?!”

Billie shrugged, and I suddenly realized she had her small vanity mirror and all her makeup set out on the kitchen table.  She was doing her makeup in the kitchen while watching me freak out.  She sounded so casual in her response to me, “You could always go without it.”

In other words, it would take forever.

Far too committed to this thing now, I snapped at her, “No I can’t Billie!  I've committed!”

“I appreciate your dedication, but…uh, I gotta finish getting ready." She laughed at me, " So uh, good luck with the Challah and being super late to your friends thing and…” she paused, and I suddenly realized she wasn’t even talking about the challah anymore, “don’t freak out, okay?  I watched you set all the timers on your phone, so you shouldn’t have any issues with getting the times wrong.  Just follow your timers and read the directions, easy.  There’s like no way you can burn it.”

I glared at her for that.

Though I did appreciate the energy she took into making sure I could handle all the mental math after she left.

When I was younger I had a reputation of burning things when I baked things—but it was only when I was alone.  At the time we figured it was just because I was young and still needed help.  Now that we realized it was the dyscalculia, we made sure that I had safeguards in place—like pre-measured ingredients—so I wouldn’t have to rely on the numbers so much.

It was sort of annoying that they had to make accommodations for me, but at least my family members never made me feel like they were accommodating.

Billie chuckled at me as she stood up, “This whole situation will be really funny in like a day when you’re not looking like you’re gonna’ kill me.”