#but i think at least i have parsed that the people looking over me are fiercely in my support

[maraeffect]

also, i recently asked my tarot deck about guardian angels and if i have any. and since then, i've been seeing 444 SO MUCH. over the past year or 2, i've noticed seeing 444 more than any other angel number. really seeing it almost exclusively. but! it's ramped up SO much lately. i really don't think it's a coincidence idk. literally as soon as i start digging deeper into spiritualism, death, and the afterlife...i start seeing little signs from the universe everywhere. it's odd.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you're left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hate the mall. Too bright. Too loud. Too fast. 

That day isn’t so bad. Tuesday, mid-morning. Most people are at work. Not you. Your part-time gig barely pays the bills, let alone keeps you busy. With that in mind, you shouldn’t be there to spend what little you have.  

It’s for a good cause. It’s your grandmother’s birthday next week and you owe her. After all she’s done, you owe much more than just a measly mall-bough gift but it’s all you can manage right now. One day it will be better. One day you will be able to pay her back. At least you keep telling yourself that. 

She paid for it all. Your way out, your lawyer, your apartment even. You can’t live in the senior’s community with her, that’s against the rules, but she parsed out some of her nest egg for the flat in the old brick building. For you. She’s the only one who ever did so much for you but what did you ever do for her? 

It’s not for lack of trying, only your own poor decisions. 

You enter the sparkling Swarovski store and keep your arms tight to your body, paranoid of breaking any of the numerous crystal pieces. You don’t know what she would like. It isn’t because you don’t know her well, you just don’t think she has much use for any of it. She’s always been painfully practical. That’s why you never wanted to ask her for help. 

An associate startles you as she appears beside you in her sleek black pantsuit. She offers help but you get the sense she’s checking in, making sure your hands aren’t sneaking into your pockets. You make sure to keep them visible and move your satchel across your back. You tell her you’re just looking and blow out between your dry lips. Maybe a hoodie wasn’t the best choice. 

It was meant to be a solution. You wanted to get out of your grandmother’s hair. How long had you been living with her? He was the answer to that. You thought so. You wanted to believe it. For ten years, you tried. He always spoiled it. 

Then she had to bail you out anyway. 

As you come to the sharp corner of a shelf, you’re startled by another customer. You hadn’t seen them when you came in or heard them. You glance at them fleetingly and turn your attention to the shelf of Mickey Mouse decorations. Definitely not those. 

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” the man frightens you again as he nears and presses his hand to your back. He sidles by, and you dodge away from him, coming dangerously close to colliding with the display of birthstone necklaces. 

You shake off the close brush and blink at the glass. You peek over at the man as he seems overly interested in a paper weight shaped like a dove. His mustache and sleek haircut make him look like he’s been plucked out of some gangster period piece.  

The associate shifts from one side of the counter to the other. She’s watching you. You sigh. She still thinks you’re a thief. You shake your head and leave. 

It’s not worth the trouble or the money. You can find something better. You know you could get your grandma a box of chocolates and a card and she’d say she’s happy. You don’t want to get her what works; you want to do something for someone. Something more than just be there. 

You go down to Hallmark. It’s a similar atmosphere with a hint of warmness and more range in price. Still too much Disney and not enough variety. Your grandmother doesn’t need a rustic crate or a door sign with some snarky saying about wine. 

You stop to look at cards. You can at least grab one of those. As you reach for one along the top row, another hand swipes it from your grasp. You back up and look at the culprit. It’s the same man as the Swarovski shop. Strange. 

You recoil and scurry down the aisle towards the door. Is he following you? It could be a coincidence. Two stores. If he’s looking for a gift too, it makes sense. 

You cross your arms and march quickly through the bright mall, the skylight glaring down at you. You walk in and out of a clothes shop. You don’t know where you’re going now. You’re frazzled. 

You find your way to the As Seen on TV shop and meander around without intent. You’re at a loss. You’ll just end up at the bookstore like always. Another book for her birthday. Wowee. 

She might like the salt rock light. You don’t know. Ugh. 

It isn’t the gift. It isn’t her. It’s you. You’re indecisive. You're lost. Even if it was misery, you miss having someone to tell you what to do. Now you have to think and you do too much of that. 

“Those are pretty cool,” a voice slices through your self-pity. 

It’s the same man. Your eyes meet as you look up to see him. You blanch and open and close your mouth. The shop is so small, how hadn’t you heard him? 

You retreat without a word. He must be following you. There’s no other explanation. What do you do? You can’t just lead him out of the mall, back to your building, but how can you divert him? 

You find a bench down the next aisle of the mall, somewhere the associates in the vitamin store can see you. You’re safe there with people around. You look up and down, searching for the man and his mustache. Just a mother with her stroller. 

You’re paranoid. Stupid, just like he said. It’s all in your head. You’re just fucked up. You don’t know how to live in this world. Not alone. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the timbre tickles up the back of your spine and you twist to see the figure behind you. It’s an officer in uniform. “Mind if I ask ya something?” 

You nod and blink. You don’t like the cops. You haven’t spoken to them since the night it all came crashing down. The flashing lights, the sirens, the questions. It’s all a haze yet it’s stamped into your psyche. 

“Yes, sir,” you stand. 

He’s got dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. His shoulders bear a slant of authority as he has his hands on his hips. He’s taller than you, but so is everyone. You look across the bench at him as his white shirt pokes out from under his leather jacket, his belly straining the fabric. 

“You don’t gotta trouble yerself,” he shows his palm and reaches with his other hand to his belt, “I’m lookin’ for someone and was wonderin’ if maybe ya saw him.” 

“Oh?” You crinkle your forehead. 

“Got a pic somewhere,” he frees his phone from the clip on his belt and flicks his thumb over the screen, “here we are.” 

He turns the cell toward you and you can’t help but make a face. The image is blurry but it’s definitely that same man. You look back the way you came and gulp. 

“Reckon by that, you’ve seen him,” the officer says. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he introduces as he retracts his hand, “I’m doing an investigation. Mind if I ask some more questions?" 

“Well, I... didn’t talk to him.” 

“That’s fine,” he peers down in the same direction you did. The infant in its stroller begins to yawl and his cheek ticks, “how about you come out to my cruiser and we’ll do it there? Less ruckus?” 

You purse your lips. You can’t really say no, he might think you know that guy, whoever he is, whatever he’s done. You shrug. You don’t have much to say. You’re sure it won’t be much of an interview. 

“Okay,” you agree.” 

[artbyblastweave]

If youre still doing it, heroify Lex Luthor

The fish-in-a-barrel answer is Tony Stark, but the intuitive answer, not to mention the version I've actually seen executed at least twice- is that you ask the question- what if he's right, about Superman being bad news?- and then you go from there.

I'm actually going to take this opportunity to talk up one of the few Mark Millar comics that I recommend wholeheartedly, Jupiter's Circle, which is interesting in that the setting's Luthor analogue, Jack Hobbes, is essentially playing Luthor's cope-and-seethe angle completely straight, as a thing which he legitimately believes and which he's ultimately basically correct to believe in spite of most superheroes being at least decent people.

What was interesting to me about this portrayal is that Hobbes eventually decides that he miscalculated, that he can do more good by working with the Utopian as his friend and confidant than by fighting him every step of the way. It's a straight-up Lex Luthor redemption story. But the thing is that the setting of the comic as a whole is predicated on the idea that he was actually completely correct- although he doesn't live to see it, although he dies thinking he was initially misguided, the long-term trajectory of the setting is that superheroes eat the world, politics and activism alike subordinated to their petty grievances and soap opera idiocy. A major plot point of the second volume of this was that Not!Batman's turn towards militant leftism gets completely written off by his 1960s contemporaries because they're so used to reading his behavior through the lens of whiny rich-kid superhero interpersonal drama that they just can't parse it correctly. The comic advances that there's a self-centeredness and egotism inherent to the superhero that makes them suck ass at effecting long term positive change, but they also aren't going away, and they can blow up skyscrapers. At the point where I stopped reading, the setting was implied to be caught in a kind of boom-and-bust doom cycle where the superheroes gradually create a singular hegemony, then collapse into hyperdestructive infighting over what to do with that hegemony once they run out of conventional supervillains to fight- the aftermath of which clears the board for a new wave of the classic silver age cops-and-robbers game, which then gradually hegemonizes, ad infinitum. (This is a line of thinking that crops up in a lot of Millar's capepunk work once you know what to look for- Wanted, Old Man Logan, and to some extent The Ultimates all being examples.)

Another example of Heroic Lex Luthor, which I've written about before, is the comic Edison Rex, a comic whose pitchline is that the setting's Luthor analogue, the titular Edison Rex, turns out to have been completely correct that the setting's Superman analogue was an unwitting sleeper agent for an alien invasion, and steps up to replace him as Earth's foremost protector after finally neutralizing him- but since all he really knows how to be is a supervillain, his management style and problem-solving methodology from his time as an ends-justify-the-means anti-superman crusader translate to the new job with extremely mixed results. The comic ran 18 issues and remains unfinished, but it was pretty good.

[max1461]

I'm terminally humanities brained, but I am kind of interested in pure mathematics and POM and generally just more mathematics oriented philosophy stuff/mathematics in general, I haven't studied any kind of maths since Highschool, how should I get into it? Should I read Quine?

Oh, this is a great question and I am very happy you have decided to send it to me! My answer reflects my particular views on mathematics and what it is all about, of course, so keep that in mind.

The number one thing I would like to convey about mathematics to someone coming from the humanities is that mathematics, far more than most fields, is something you do in addition to something you learn. Mathematical thinking has to be practiced, it is a skill that you train. If your primary interest is in philosophy of math, I'm afraid I haven't read very deeply on the subject and probably can't recommend a good starting place. Maybe... Russell? Look into Hilbert's program, and why it failed? But if you want to understand math "from the inside" instead of "from the outside", then you have to do math, and to that end I think "who to read" is the wrong question.

This might sound a bit scary, but I don't think it needs to be. Math is not so hard to do, although it is a very foreign type of thinking to those who are not practiced at it. In fact, this is why I think doing math is important even if your interests are primarily in POM; math is ultimately a human activity, regardless of e.g. what you believe about the ontology of mathematical abstractions, and I believe that in order to understand it fully (to have a picture of it beyond just its ontology) it must be understood as a human activity. Thus, one must do it, at least a little bit. It is, if nothing else, a whole realm of human experience all its own, and I think just about anyone would profit intellectually from spinning their mental gears in a mathematical way here and there.

Thankfully, there are many great places to start if this is your aim. I assume that what we're talking about here is "proof based" math rather than just calculation. To that end, a great introductory book is Velleman's How to Prove It, which will give you some guiding principles and many examples of how to approach a mathematical proof. Beyond that, I think you'll want to pick up an "entry level" introductory text (that is, an introductory text aimed at undergrads, etc.) on any math topic that strikes your fancy, and work through it—making sure that you understand the structure of the arguments (proofs), and attempting as many of the exercises as you can. The exercises are really the most important part. You cannot learn math without the exercises. You cannot learn math by reading it. The only way to learn is to try your hand at it yourself.

Expect your reading speed to be slow, and new concepts to be confusing. Expect to read things over and over, and fiddle with them in your head, before they make sense. Well, I mean, if you're anything like me or like most people. I think one of the biggest reasons people get turned off to math is that most of it just doesn't make any sense the first time you encounter it; it won't make sense until you've thought about it a lot.

One way or another, if you have a background in philosophy and are used to parsing and evaluating careful arguments, you will have a leg up on many people getting their introduction to proofs.

As for what topic to start with... you could always start with Euclid's elements, which is still a perfectly solid introduction to Euclidean geometry even after 2500 years. It does not quite meet modern standards of mathematical rigor (in other words, its proofs have gaps by modern standards), but realistically this is not a big deal: the basic thinking style is the same, and the gaps are somewhat subtle and technical IIRC, so I don't think it will really affect the beginner experience. On the other hand I believe at least a couple of Euclid's proofs are genuinely flawed (that is to say, they aren't just uncareful in their presentation, but are actually invalid in their structure), so maybe it's better to start with a modern work first.

Some books that I think are good for a beginner:

Graham, Knuth, & Patashnik, Concrete Mathematics — The focus of this book is on mathematical tools for computer science, but even if that is not your interest it's still a great book. It deals mostly with familiar concepts such as whole numbers and sequences (you might have encountered, e.g., the Fibonacci sequence), but is great for learning to problem solve and think mathematically.

Rudin, Principals of Mathematical Analysis, ("Baby Rudin") — If you want trial-by-fire. A lot of math undergrads have this as the textbook for their first proof-based math class, and it's notoriously challenging. Its topic is the field of real analysis, the rigorous foundations of calculus. I... wouldn't start here if I were you, honestly, but it's definitely a classic.

Some graph theory text. Some people seem to be recommending Wilson's, which has the convenient feature of being available online here. I haven't read it, but looking over it, it seems fairly gentle. There are a lot of pictures, and proofs don't enter the picture until a couple of sections in. Graph theory has the advantage of being very visual and having basically no prerequisites, so this might be a nice place to start.

Some abstract algebra book. If you're looking for a really clear presentation of the way mathematics is done today, starting with axioms and proving theorems deductively from them, etc., there is probably no place where it is more straightforwardly visible than in abstract algebra. The first math book I ever attempted was Herstein's Topics in Algebra; not the most beginner oriented, but certainly not inaccessible, and hey, it worked out for me! If this one is not to your liking there are a million books on e.g. introductory group theory you could look into, or the very canonical Dummit & Foote, or so on.

Uh yeah I think that's all I got. Anyone else feel free to put any more thoughts or recommendations in the reblogs!

[hillbillyoracle]

So you want to print and distribute a free zine...

I wanted to throw together a short tutorial on how I print zines using this excellent COVID safety zine by @newlevant as an example.

Printing

First make sure you are clicking on the printable file. When you open it, it should look slightly jumbled. I always look for seeing the front cover and the back cover on the same page.

Then click "print" (usually a printer icon) and open "more settings".

The key things people tend to get wrong when they try printing zines is they forget to make sure that it is double sided and flips on the short edge. If you tried printing one and it came out looking wonky, make sure to check this.

Also, it will make your life infinitely easier if you use the collate option should you have it available to you.

Fit to printable area is a helpful setting to have on if you're printing zines who use a different paper standard than you. This zine didn't for me but I leave this on out of habit.

When you've got this all set up - print as many copies as you want to assemble.

Assembling

When you get them out of the printer they'll look like this. Just a big old stack. I highly recommend parsing out each individual copy before you try assembling any. I have made that mistake before.

This is how I stack mine.

I like to leave the cover side up as it makes for a clearer division as I'm assembling.

As you're flipping through these to parse and stack them, check them over for any issues with printing. I ran out of printer toner on the first three so I'm glad I checked.

Imperfections are fine but you're looking for anything that makes critical information unreadable.

To assemble a copy, get them lined up by tapping them on the table along a short and a long edge.

Both hands is a lot easier but I was trying to take a picture lol

Then fold them hamburger style and smooth down the spine as best you can. If you have a bone folder or similar use that.

Again, let go of perfection. We are looking for good enough here. Minor errors here should not make info unreadable so don't sweat the small stuff.

I recommend doing all your folding in one go to prevent errors. Or at least it really helps me.

Now it's time to staple. You will see my fancy stapler in the background - you do not require it and I would not recommend it. Unhinging a normal stapler is way easier to use in my opinion and this one gets jammed fairly easy. Use what you've got.

If you don't have staples, but you do have sewing supplies - check out this tutorial for a way to bind it with thread.

If you have no staples and no thread, you don't have to staple every zine. Smaller ones (~5 pages or less) do fine with no staple. They can be a little tougher for some people to use and don't hold up as well being taken in and out of places so I would consider that when thinking of where to leave them. They're still well worth printing and putting out.

This zine is small enough that one staple in the center should be enough to keep it together.

I opted to staple in two places - one about an inch in from either edge - mostly out of habit. It does add a little stability and will make them a little better for putting in Little Free Libraries and other places where they'll be removed and placed back.

Here is my partner looking over the zines to make sure my stapling didn't cut off any important information in each copy. It's a little tedious but it's pretty important. A quick flip through can mean the difference between someone getting the info you want them to have or not.

And here's the finished product

I made 15. I'm pretty privileged and have been making zines for over a decade now so it's almost like knitting or crochet for me. Feel free to make fewer copies or just one for yourself. It still counts.

I will stick some in each car and my bag. I have some medical appointments coming up so I will for sure be leaving some of these in the waiting room.

I'm also going to keep an eye out for Little Free Libraries and other place where people are looking for something to read. I might also toss some on the tables of a coffee shop I pop into sometimes (masked, take out only) and the library to pick up books (also masked).

I tend not to give them to specific people, even people I know, because people are way more open to information they've picked up themself than something it feels like someone is pressuring them to read. But if people bring it up in conversation, I'll be sure to offer a copy to anyone who is interested.

Hope this is helpful!

Go out there and print!

[women-of-malevolent]

I genuinely don’t mean this from a place of malice, and do think the podcast both has a history of handling its women characters poorly and would like if it were better in that aspect. But I don’t understand the specific criticism of the work having a running theme of “male characters uncritically sacrificing their daughters.” (Key word uncritically.)

The titular Bella episode directly forces Arthur to confront the idea that him and Larson are similar, that the callousness they showed to their loved ones is intentionally paralleled. I don’t think it’s something the story is unaware of, and I’d hesitate to argue that Arthur (or Daniel, later) is presented as being in the definitive right. (In this regard.)

I don’t think you have to love the prevalence of the concept in the narrative, but I do think some of your critique feels like you’re taking the worst interpretation you could from the story and arguing that because the characters themselves don’t actively stop the plot to condemn it (and honestly, they do sometimes) it means the actions are presented as wholly value neutral. Some of your analysis feels like you’re starting from a conclusion and working your way back.

I want to reiterate: I really enjoy most of your critiques, and it’s refreshing to have someone in the fandom both document female presence in the podcast and speak candidly about its flaws. I’d honestly love to know if/why you disagree, either with regards to intentionality or necessity of inclusion.

Hello! Thanks for writing in!

I'm not sure which post you're referencing where I said the daughter-sacrifice theme was uncritically portrayed? Because I don't think it is. The story portrays daughter-sacrifice as varying shades of terrible, graded according to intent. These less-than-ideal men keep hurting the women they should have protected.

My problem with the daughter-sacrifice theme is the same as my problem the rest of the show: it's exclusively about men. Daughters aren't people, they're glass sculptures for men to carry for 18 years, and what those men do with that piece of glass in that time tells you about the character of that man.

Who are Addison, Faroe, Emily, Samantha, Murdered Daughter Of A Senator, fuck even Sarah, if you take away the men who hurt them? Looking at just the text of Malevolent, none of the liveplay games lore or headcanons etc, there's little to nothing to these girls.

You're not invited to spend time inhabiting any woman's life like you are with Arthur (or John, to a significantly lesser extent). You can, and I do, but it feels like reading against the text because their lives are boring, horrible, difficult to parse, and they usually end in childbirth or femicide. It's fucking miserable!

The men are trapped in the same bleak, violent story, and a lot of them die graphically and onscreen, but most of them also get some combo of moments of triumph, personalities, voices, independence, quirks that narratively make that violence go down smoother. (Also smoother because there are so many fun and fascinating male characters)

Also, honestly, I don't enjoy how the theme is explored. It feels shallow and lame to me. I personally, as a listener, don't feel like this specific story has ~earned~ (in my personal, idiosyncratic, things-I-like-in-fiction, subjective assessment) exploring the horror of femicide when 1) there are zero normal, living female characters (Marie is very close, but no cigar); 2) all it seems to really say is basically… murder is bad (sometimes) (usually?) (sometimes, at least), and it's extra bad when men kill their dependent women?

Standard disclaimer that it ain't over 'til it's over, what we got is not great so far but it ain't over

Thank you again and I'd be so happy to continue this conversation if you want!

[bambiraptorx]

[insert prompt here] — Leo is kidnapped

Admittedly this took a while to think of something, but I finally figured it out so this is gonna be about my fantasy au. Enjoy.

(For a little extra context, Big Mama is called Mother in this AU.)

Content warnings for abusive relationship, implied abuse/child abuse.

———

Leo knows the kind of situation he's in as soon as he inhales: the scent of roses and berries with a nearly imperceptible tang, carefully balanced in an artificial ratio that can only indicate perfume. Then again, the blindfold over his eyes—a familiar, delicate silk—could have told him as much. From the gentle rocking and creaking of wood, he's somewhere on a boat. The exact location would be harder to parse without being able to look around the ship itself, but the circumstances are clear.

Mother found him again, and she's bringing him home.

A door opening, a familiar skittering sound slowly approaching, and he can't help but press back against the chair he's chained to. As if by its own will the blindfold lifts from its place again his skin, leaving him face to face with... her.

A spider-woman towers over him, the cut of her fine dress elegantly framing her torso. It's something of a sharp contrast to her lower body; a spider's abdomen, the legs decorated with delicate gold bracelets. Her face could almost pass for human, were it not for the large fangs protruding from her mouth and the extra two pairs of eyes, but Mother's never needed to look like anything but herself.

She reaches out a hand and cups his face, the delicate hairs that cover her fingers itching ever so slightly. "My, my, little turtly-boo, you've taken yourself on quite the rollicking adventure, haven't you?"

Okay, she sounds amused. That could be good, that could be very, very bad. He'll assume it's the second.

"Heyyyy, Mother! Was wondering when you'd catch up with me!" He pastes on a cheerful smile, hoping this time it reaches his eyes. She's going to make it very clear if it doesn't. Mother always seems disappointed when his mask isn't good enough.

But right now, she smiles benignly as she withdraws her hand and steps away. "Of course, dearie, you know I'll always be able to find you. My people are simply everywhere, isn't it malutacious? But I must say, as entertaining as this little fizzacle of ours has been, it's gotten rather tiresome."

His heart sinks. If the song and dance of these meetings is coming to an end... he must have been right to assume Option Two. Good old, not quite reliable but always a possibility, Option Two. His least favorite for a reason.

"Really, all these meetings with mages and sorcerers and two-penny alchemists and what-have-you? Absolutely shameful, dearie." Mother arches an eyebrow. "But then you had to go and bring my name into it. Such a poor decisi-doo, love, I thought I'd raised you better."

Pointing out that she didn't actually raise him is a glaringly obvious trap and one he refuses to fall into. "What can I say, Mama, it got us out of a jam or two." He tugs furtively at the chains holding his wrists to the arms of the chair. No luck, the restraints are solid.

The lands ruled by the Three Heads were much stricter about things like soul magic than he'd imagined, and even just asking questions had quickly got him wanted posters in half the towns he stopped in. As much as he'd hated using her name to get out of the odd arrest warrant that would pop up, it was way better in the long run than rotting in jail. He couldn't save Mikey if he was rotting in jail.

Mother steps closer, looming above him. Her smile is just a shade off, a few muscles unflexed, from genuine. "Yes, my dear turtle, you made good use of your concatenation to me. You don't always appreciate it, do you?" Her eyes, decorated with makeup as they are, are cold and ugly as they bore into him.

His mind races. "Mama, please, you know we just—"

"Enough. Don't think I haven't noticed you banging your hollydoos at those chains, my ungrateful little escapee." The smile disappears as she cups his face once more. Oh, so he's fucked fucked.

"I believe you'll need a little more time to yourself. We've got quite some time before this ship reaches my capital, you know." She turns away, pausing just before the doorway. "And keep an eye out for the riddly-rats, dearie. I've been told they nibble."

With that the door slams, and he is alone.

———

Y'all are free to ask questions about this if anything doesn't make sense, it's been a hot second since I mentioned this AU at all and there's some new stuff going on with it now lol.

ask game

[lailoken]

Hello Lailoken! how can someone who's 'new to all this' tell if the entities they’re contacting in visions, dreams or any other 'otherworldly journey' are, indeed, fae to be trusted, or if it's just 'tricksters' and they’re being intentionally misled, or meant for harm? Are there any signs? what's your experience with discerning spirits' intentions? (divination aside, I feel any divination done by myself to try to unravel this would be 'tainted' or come untrue, but do correct me if I'm wrong! I also don’t want to depend on other people’s skills on divination to be able to do this safely...)

This is honestly a rather dense subject, but I will do my best to respond to some points you brought up here.

Firstly, here are some tips to keep in mind when attempting this kind of work:

— Learn to identify when and how you are experiencing legitimate numinous communications to begin with. Once you feel confident that you're dealing with real contact, then you can begin to work on parsing out what feels hinky and what feels trustworthy. Working on meditation, dream recall, divination, and other such techniques can do a lot to help you strengthen these skills.

— Use/develop wards that can be put in place when attempting to interact with spirits. Someone could write a whole monograph just on warding techniques, but suffice it to say that you're going to want to be proficient in warding before attempting to work with most spirits. At the least, I think it's important to have wards in place against physical harm, psychological contamination, and deception, as these are the main things one generally has to worry about if interacting with a dangerous spirit. Learning to employ these wards when divining is also an important part of how you learn to trust more in divination for looking into this sort of matter.

— Keep close track of your interactions and suspected interactions with spirits. Doing this helps to give a more "fleshed out" sense of the Wight in question, by allowing you to look over the record of their behavior. This also helps with identifying any possible lies or inconsistencies put forward by the spirit.

— Set clear boundaries with any spirits, and be wary of wights who disregard or consistently push those boundaries. Sometimes, spirits can help push us to grow and evolve, even if it's not always comfortable. But just like mundane relationships, numinous relationships that demonstrate a consistent pattern of forceful and/or manipulative behavior are troubling.

There are also certain red flags I think are worth watching out for when attempting to work with spirits:

— Have caution if a spirit always seems to say exactly what you want to hear. Having a good relationship with your Spirit Kith is a wonderful thing, but I tend to be untrusting of a spirit who consistently reflects back exactly what I'm hoping to see—particularly if said spirit is always clamoring for my attentions.

— Beware of consistently confusing or contradictory communications. Spirits can be coy or even downright confusing, but that isn't a red flag in and of itself. After all, numinous wights experience the world very differently from us, and their attempts to communicate can become "jumbled" when passing through the lens of our conscious understanding. Whats more, they sometimes speak in riddles for their own reasons. But if a spirit tells outright lies, or if they seem to pull you every which way based on cold whims, that's something worth being concerned over.

— Be on guard if a spirit starts out by acting very gentle and affable with you, but becomes progressively controlling and aggressive over time. Abusive humans have a tendency to show their true colors gradually as a way to draw in and then trap potential victims, and this same tactic is often seen with spirits as well.

— Suspicion is in order if you tend to become fatigued, dizzy, and/or confused when/after interacting with a spirit. To be fair, these experiences can be a normal part of spirit work, in general, for many people��especially if you're new to it. But if it's pervasive or extreme, or if you start to also experience pain, then it's usually worth being wary. The same goes for other troubling physical symptomology, but these are the most common symptoms I've come across.

— Something isn't right if bad things frequently happen in relation to the spirit. If you've been having terrible nightmares ever since the spirit came into your life, that's concerning. If you or your loved ones always seem to become sick or injured when you do something to displease the spirit, then that's worrisome. If you've been experiencing continual hardships or traumas since the arrival of a spirit, that's alarming. Especially when these things somehow funnel back into you giving the spirit more attention and energy (asking them for solace and protection, for instance.)

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey I dunno if you’ve gotten this before but. Do you have anything on autism and DID/OSDD? Specifically resources or accounts and such (since I’ve seen the positivity post)

I struggle with emotional dysregulation, big memory issues (huge chunks of childhood and adolescence missing, forgetting things constantly, dissociating emotions from memories, etc,) frequent daydreaming/spacing out/dissociation, that type of thing (and a bit more that’s a little too complicated to explain in an ask lol)

I’ve always kind of figured it was just part of me being autistic (I’m professionally diagnosed and definitely very autistic regardless lol), but I’ve recently gone down a bit of a rabbit hole relating to plurality and now I’m wondering if it could be a symptom of DID/OSDD instead/as well (I was originally looking at something else and stumbled into the tags somehow. The original thing that led me here was foxes. I think. And then I had a bit of a panic as I realized how some of the symptoms were VERY close to some of my experiences. Especially the memories.) but i also can’t tell if it’s just some sort of brain fog(???? Is that the correct term?) / alexithymia / Unknown Autism Trait 3 that nobody ever talks about and is difficult to find any sort of explanation or resources for. And my brain protested and had the equivalent of being on the verge of a sobbing meltdown or mental overload of some sort when I tried to think about stuff relevant to the topic so I don’t think it’s going to be of much help to me right now.

obviously not asking for diagnosis or to self diagnose at all (since. I understand you cant really do either of those /lh /nm) but I’m curious if any of you know of any resources relating to this specific type of stuff? I feel like I’d go insane trying to find any info on it. (And also I don’t think my brain would want to cooperate if I asked it to because it basically shuts down, gives me a headache, and turns to a pathetic wet sobbing cat whenever I try to think about the possibility so I doubt I’ll be identifying as anything anytime soon but. I want some stuff to think over at least.)

hey, we also are autistic and have dissociative identity disorder. unfortunately, there isn’t really too much research on the overlap between autism and complex dissociative disorder diagnoses at this time, that we know of, but we do think that autistic people may have a higher likelihood of dissociating and developing a cdd than neurotypical people.

we really love mike lloyd’s work at the ctad clinic, and he has an insightful video on the intersection of autism and dissociation here:

here is an open access paper by katherine e. reuben and ayden parish on dissociation as a symptom in autism - it’s an interesting read and wasn’t too difficult for us to parse:

also, here are a couple life experience pieces by folks with both did and autism:

our own autism has contributed to our trauma history in how we were treated, formed attachment, and understood the world as a child. for our own system, our autism and our did are inextricably linked. we are certain that many other autistic systems feel the same.

if exploring this possibility for yourself is causing you great distress, it may be for the best to put this off to the side for now until you have reached a point with more stability or a greater support system in your life. please don’t overwhelm or cause yourself harm by looking into this possibility on your own, if it is unhealthy for you.

if you are in therapy or have a mental health professional in your life who you trust, this would be an excellent thing to bring up to them. though hopefully these resources can help you get started learning about this topic if you have the spoons/ability to do so.

we are no medical expert or research professional, but we are happy to talk more about our personal experience of being both autistic and a did system if anyone would be interested. best of luck to you, anon, with figuring this out. we know how confusing and challenging it can be!

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Love is a Maze [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: The character gets lost in a corn maze… meant for children. They begrudgingly ask a total stranger for help; aka the reader gets stuck in a corn maze and has to ask a total stranger (Aaron) to help her get out. 

Category: Fluff/Comfort 

Word Count: 3.7K

Content Warning: Mentions of drinking and alcohol. If you are not 21 this is a reminder that I do not condone underage drinking (in the U.S. I am 26 fyi). Please use sound judgment when drinking and never drink and drive. Nothing is worth you or someone else getting hurt. Language (fuck and damn). These are minor things that some might find triggering as well: Mentioning the legal system and online childhood safety. 

A/N: This is another @imagining-in-the-margins prompt for her Meet Cute September/October writing Challenge! I have been loving these prompts. I have three more fics planned. Thank you for all the engagement, it means a lot to me. I think this fic is great to have with a cup of tea or a glass of cider. I had to change my paragraph formatting because Tumblr was being weird. Sorry if there seems to be some odd paragraph spacing in this one. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

P.S. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

l/g/s = local grocery store 

p/g = parent or guardian 

y/a = your age 

y/l/n = your last name 

t/o/l type of law 

y/b/f = your best friend 

f/s/f/d = favorite spiked fall drink 

e/c = eye color (i.e. green eyes, brown eyes, hazel eyes etc.) 

y/n looked at the three-way intersection. There was a thirty-three point three percent chance that one of the dusty paths would lead her to the exit in the corn maze, but at this point, she had tried all three of them at least twice and she was starting to give up. She knew about dyslexia and dysgraphia, and she was wondering if dys-mapia was a thing? She put her head in her hands for a moment. All of her life she had been told that she was ‘directionally challenged,’ and those people had been proved right again, and again, and again.

Her first memory in fact was one of her getting lost. It had happened when she was in _l/g/s_ with her p/g. She had been five and her _p/g_ had told her multiple times that if she ever got lost to ask an employee for help. As many times as she had been told this, when it happened in real life she had frozen. She really believed that she would never find her mom again. A kind stranger had found her in the produce aisle crying her eyes out. The elderly woman took her to the front of the store and her very concerned p/g rushed forward and gave her a big hug.

y/n’s p/g had bought her an ice cream cone after they had finished shopping. Unfortunately for y/n, this had only been the first of many times she would get lost. Only last month one of her friends at law school had joked at the intern networking social that “y/n would get lost on a one-way street in a small town.” Everyone had laughed, and it would be funny if it wasn’t true. And this was why her being stuck, trying to make her way out of a corn maze was so fucking frustrating.

She knew she had been at this intersection before because it was only one of two three-way intersections she had come across so far, and the clue at the start of the estuary was the one she had read six times now. She looked at the map in her hands and tried to parse the right path out of the maze but became frustrated almost immediately, crumpling the paper tightly in her hands.

The entrance of the maze had said that it should take about half an hour to complete, and she had now spent double that in the dusty maze. More insulting than this was the fact that the age disclaimer at the start of the maze read: This maze is appropriate for all ages, however children under 12 should be accompanied by a parent or guardian. Essentially this meant that the maze could be completed by someone over 13, by themselves, and here she was y/a, unable to escape. 

y/n realized now that playing Truth or Drink, essentially Truth or Dare, except every dare meant drowning a shot was a mistake before trying to do a corn maze had been a mistake on her part given how bad she was with direction. She thought about her poor choices while waiting to find someone nice to ask to follow out of the maze. There was no avoiding it at this point. She needed help, and she knew it. As it turned out she did still value her dignity, so she had to wait awhile to find someone that seemed nice and normal.

The first group that she didn’t ask was a group of three teenage boys. There was simply no way that she was going to ask them. They were laughing and looking at their phones and she let them pass undisturbed. The next people who didn’t pass her dignity test were two moms with strollers holding sleeping toddlers inside. y/n could only imagine the passive judgment of the middle-aged women in Lulu Lemon yoga pants and Gucci handbags would pass on to her. Her rather haggard appearance and evidence of imbibing before five o’clock were sure to elicit a few “tut-tut’s” from the moms and whispered words of disapproval just loud enough for her to hear. The last group she let go was a couple. She found it bad enough third wheeling with all her friends in relationships, doing that with total strangers didn’t bear thinking about.

y/n was wondering if an employee might come around every now and then to see if people or children more likely had gotten lost. Her thought process was interrupted when she heard someone coming close to where she was standing. It sounded. It was the voice of a man. As she listened she realized that his voice was actually quite nice sounding. There was a second voice, clearly from a child. From what y/n was hearing, this sounded like the best option she’s got, and she crossed her fingers hoping that the man that rounded the corner looked and seemed safe and normal.

She had spent way too many mediocre Tinder and Bumble dates with guys her age asking her overly personal questions, and oddly why she hadn’t watched the live-action One Piece yet. This always stumped her. She had seen Attack on Titan back in the day -- didn’t that count for anything anymore? It’s not like she asked them if they had seen the 2005 Kiera Knightly Pride and Prejudice or the 1996 Collin Firth adaptation. Again she was pulled from her thoughts when the man rounded the corner with a little boy trailing closely behind him.

She attempted to look at him without gawking. This was harder to do than she had expected because not only did the man have a nice voice, he was attractive as well. He was tall and wore blue jeans and a navy Patagonia jacket. His brown hair was cut short and neat with just a tinge of grey at his temples. y/n turned away from him and gently tapped her head, thinking, ‘You idiot. You’re not here to flirt, you’re here to get out of this damn corn maze. She turned back again to be able to see the man. He had picked up the boy she assumed was his son and they were both looking at the clue near the three-way path.

The man was reading the clue aloud saying, “All right buddy, here’s what it says: Paths for three but only one for me. One of these paths leads to a dead end, one takes you to the center again, the last is the hardest as you will see, it had a tree of a sort, and when you see that you are nearly free.” The man looked down at the boy and asked, “What do you think Jack? Which of the paths would you like to try first?” y/n wanted to say, “Well the path on the right is the dead end,” but she held her tongue, knowing that if she said anything it would ruin the fun for the boy. After a second the little boy pointed to the middle path and the man let him down saying, “Alright middle it is.” 

It was clear the pair was about to venture forward into the maze and y/n finally gave up her pride and said, “Hey. um, sorry, could you wait a minute please?” The little boy was moving forward, but with a deft move he was able to get the boy’s hand in his and said, “Wait just a minute, son.” The boy stopped and the man turned to look at whoever had mentioned him. Now that the man was actually looking at her, she felt the flush of embarrassment course through her. y/n cleared her throat once and said, “Sorry, this is so embarrassing, but I’ve been stuck in this maze for about an hour and I’ve tried to get out. I’m just not cut out for this. Could I possibly follow you out? I’m y/n _y/l/n_, by the way?”

y/n thought she might burst into flames for a few moments of silence as the man glanced at her. There was a ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he said, “Yes, of course you can.” He extended his hand adding, “Aaron, Hotchner.” y/n took his hand and shook it, saying, “Thank you so much. Sorry, I’m just… just bad at these things.”  His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable. As they dropped the handshake, Aaron turned back to his son and said, “Alright Jack, let’s go. We’re going to help someone out of here, so we have to think really hard about what paths we choose!” Jack beamed and turned to look at y/n. She gave him a small wave and a smile. 

The trio moved forward along the center path, and much to y/n’s relief even Aaron, Jack, and she had to double back once to find the right path. The weather was nice and now that _y/n_ wasn’t as stressed out about being lost, it felt nice to be having a break from her busy life. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but as they continued moving the silence became a bit awkward and Aaron turned his gaze toward the woman next to him, asking, “So, are you local?” y/n nodded no, replying, “No, I’m visiting some friends for the weekend. I’m living in New York.”

Hotch nodded trying to keep the conversation going by saying, “What’s in New York, work, family…?” The team had been in New York last month for a string of brutal murders. He wondered if she was aware of them. y/n’s eyes flicked to him and she replied, “Columbia Law. This is the first chance I’ve had to take a break all semester, so I thought I should take it.” Hotch looked at her more closely once she brought up Law School. Having gone through it himself many years ago, he knew it wasn’t for the faint of heart.

y/n then asked, “And you? Do you live around here?” Aaron replied to her question saying, “I’m local. My son looks forward to this every year. It’s kind of a tradition I suppose.” This was the first year without Hailey coming along. The divorce had changed a lot of things, and this was one of them. Hotch looked forward to Jack, who was a few feet in front of him and y/n. After a moment, Aaron added, “I went to Law School a long time ago. What year are you in? Have you decided on a specialty yet?” y/n’s lit up at the questions. She was excited to have something in common with Aaron. She wasn’t great at starting conversations, but now that they had a touchpoint she could easily be an equal speaking partner.

She replied, “I’m in 2L trying to decide between t/o/l and t/o/l. Where did you study and are you still in practice?” The conversation stopped for a moment and _y/n_ stepped back and Aaron and Jack looked over the next clue together. Once Jack had made his choice they continued onward. She and Aaron fell into step again and he said, “I went to George Washington University. I was a criminal prosecutor, but I don’t practice anymore.” y/n nodded and asked, “What made you stop practicing?” Aaron let out a sigh at the question and crossed his arms as he considered how to phrase his response. For a moment y/n she had hit a sensitive subject and said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Aaron chuckled but said, “No, it’s a valid question. Listen, please don’t take this as a bad omen for your career, it’s just in criminal prosecution I saw so many bad cases. People committed heinous acts against humanity and half of the time it would be a hung jury, or the system allowed bad people to walk free and innocent people to be put away for crimes that they didn’t commit. Eventually, I had to step away for my own health.” That wasn’t exactly what y/n had been imagining his answer would be, but she could see the weight of such a flawed and crushing system deteriorating the morale and faith in the people who work in it. That feeling hadn’t hit her yet, but she wondered now if it would.

She pushed her personal feelings aside for a second and took a better look at the man. Yes, he had a few years on her, but there was something in her that wanted to know more about him. Was he happy? Did he have other profound things to say about the legal system, on life? Instead of asking those questions she simply inquired, “Are you working somewhere else, or are you retired?” He looked young to be retired, y/n thought, but it was still an option.

That small smile returned to Hotch’s face as he said, “I work for the F.B.I now as a profiler.” y/n nodded taking in the information before asking, “Is the stuff you see in the F.B.I. better than what you saw in prosecution?” Hotch looked to the ground and said, “Often it’s worse.” He looked over to y/n taking in her optimistic face before saying, “But that’s life you know. We have to do the best we can with where we’re at. That can be the courtroom, the interrogation room, or maybe helping a stranger out in a corn maze.”

Hotch gave her a wink and y/n almost fell flat on her face. Thankfully she saved herself and it wasn’t too obvious that his wink had nearly left her sprawling in the dirt. She was sure she was flushed now as the heat came back to her face. She was about to say something, but shockingly they had made it to the end of the maze and Aaron moved forward to walk out with Jack. y/n stood back for a second. Could she possibly find the courage to ask this man who had somehow magically slipped into her life for half an hour out? She hadn’t looked for a ring. He had a kid. Her thoughts were swirling around her head. She decided she would regroup with her friends, and get another drink, and if Aaron was still around by that point, she would approach him again. 

As she stepped outside back into the bright autumn light Aaron was slightly to the left of the exit retying Jack’s shoe. As she stepped out she raised her hand in the light and didn’t notice her friends snapping a photo of her. However, there was loud laughing and comments of, “What took you so long y/n? Did you get lost?” y/n lowered her hand and in joking exasperation replied, “Oh come on guys, it only took me twice as long as the sign at the front said it would. That’s gotta be a record for me!”

She smiled slightly embarrassed and looked over to Aaron to see if he was still there and if he had heard any of that conversation. Her eyes met his and he looked a little upset. She tilted her head in confusion and his eyes moved over the her friend who had taken the picture of her, to Jack, and then back to her. It took a second but everything clicked and she mouthed, “Oh,” silently. y/n smiled at Aaron and said, “I got you. Sorry, and thanks again for your help.” Aaron’s face went back to its happier look. He and Jack moved toward the pumpkin patch set up near the food stands and y/n moved closer to her friends.

y/b/f asked, “Why were you talking to that guy? He was pretty cute by the way.”  y/n swatted at her friend and said, “Oh my gosh are we back in high school again? No, um, as per usual, I got really lost in the stupid maze and I asked him to help me out. He was surprisingly chill about it. And he’s a lawyer.” y/n stopped talking, realizing she was rambling, and her friend said, “Well it sounds like I’m not the only one who’s taken an interest in him. What’s his name?” y/n let out a long breath, realizing that her friend was right, and replied, “Aaron Hotchner.”

After a moment she remembered her unspoken promise to Aaron and asked her friend, “Hey can you delete that photo of me coming out of the maze?” y/b/f_ laughed, saying, “Why, it’s funny. Are you too embarrassed for me to post it or something?” y/n rolled her eyes and replied, “No you silly. It’s just that Aaron’s kid might be in it? You know internet safely and all.” y/n’s friend replied jokingly, “When did you become such a worry wart?” y/n’s demeanor shifted to a more serious nature and she said, “Come on y/b/f if the kid’s in it, delete the picture. You know there are bad people online just as much as I do. If you need a reminder of that the guy that helped me get out of that damn maze and whose son you potentially photographed is in the F.B.I. I’m sure he could tell you a few stories if you like.”

At this, y/b/f sobered and said, “You’re right. I’ll delete the pic.” After a moment, _y/b/f_ held out their phone with the camera roll pulled up, displaying that only photos from before the corn maze remained.” y/n smiled and said, “Thanks,” y/n sincerely replied. Now that the mood was lightened, y/b/f said, “Damn, that guy’s in the F.B.I. he keeps adding points to his score.” y/n laughed again saying, “You’re hopeless. You have a boyfriend already.” y/b/f nodded and said, “I do, but you don’t. You should go talk to him or give him your number or something. I mean you at least have to think he’s cute, right?”

y/n looked away for a moment before saying, “He is very attractive. I actually told myself that I’d grab a drink after we got out and if I still saw him around after that, that I’d go talk to him.” At hearing this, y/b/f said, well what are we waiting for? Let’s get that drink!” They both headed toward the food stands. y/n ordered a f/s/f/d. They sat at a table and started sipping the warm drinks appreciating the atmosphere and charm of the cool afternoon while catching up on gossip they had missed in their time apart. 

y/n finished her drink and y/b/f said, “Right, time to find Mr. Hotchner and ask him on out.” y/n sighed and got up. She grabbed another drink to give her time to think about what she would say if she did see Aaron still around. A tiny part of her hoped he had gone, so she wouldn’t have to ask him out and most likely get rejected. However, Aaron was still at the corn maze. Jack had played in the pumpkin patch and seen the baby goats and pigs in the petting zoo. Now they were going to get Jack a hot chocolate for the car ride home.

Jack had gotten sleepy and Aaron carried him on his hip, with one arm firmly holding him in place. As they waited in line he saw y/n apparently scanning the crowd for someone. She hadn’t seen him yet, but he was planning to go over and ask her something because she seemed like a nice person and he wanted to make sure she made smart choices. He wasn’t a narc, but he had noticed her drinking before and she had another in her hand now. Aaron didn’t want her behind the wheel anytime soon. He had seen far too many promising young people lose their chance at a future because they had made that choice. Aaron realized he was sounding like Reid as the statistics popped up in his head.

He pushed the mental numbers aside as he got to the front of the line and ordered. He stepped next to y/n softly calling her name, not wanting to wake Jack. y/n turned around and immediately her skin flushed pink. Now that he was in better light he could see her _e/c_’s were beginning to dilate. He was flattered by her silent tells. He took a second to look her over once quickly. He spent such little time out in normal society that it was strange for him to be with strangers who might or might not fancy him.

Finally, he said, “Hey again. I’m heading out and thought I’d just check in on you. Um… not to be weird, but you’re not planning on driving soon are you?” y/n smiled and said, “Thanks for saying hi, and no. Our friend is picking us up in half an hour - I’ve got a designated driver Agent.” She said the last word in a joking tone and he laughed softly. Aaron responded saying, “Good to know. Good luck in school, and I hope you have a nice rest of your break.” Aaron wanted to say more but couldn't figure out how. Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to because as he started to turn, y/n called after him.

Once he was facing her again, she said, “Aaron, would you like to get a drink together tomorrow? I catch a red eye at one AM, but I’d like to see you again before I go. If you’d be interested that is.” Now it was Aaron’s turn to flush slightly and he replied, “That sounds nice.” They quietly exchanged numbers and set up a preliminary time and place. As Aaron walked toward the car with Jack, y/n turned to face her friend who had gotten close to try and overhear the conversation, but due to the subdued volume and others talking around them, they hadn’t been able to listen in. When y/n turned, the beaming smile on her face told y/b/f everything they needed to know. They squealed in excitement and rushed forward, ready to get all the details. 

As y/n shared the information and plans for tomorrow, she realized that maybe corn mazes weren’t the worst place in the world to get lost after all.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

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[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (3/5)

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO

CHAPTER THREE

              “Rooster! Hey, can I have a quick word? Maybe bring that lunch date forward?” Hangman asks, and his hand is on Bradley’s arm and Bradley raises an eyebrow at the phrasing but nods, follows him and ignores the waggling eyebrows Phoenix is making when he glances back over his shoulder to where she is still standing and watching him walk away. At least the interrogation about last night’s dinner is over.

              “What?”

              “Last night when I got home both Trace and Bob were there, and they were all cuddled up on the sofa, looked like Bob was about to take Javy’s shirt off but I interrupted.”

              “Holy shit.”

              “I know.”

              “How do we let them know we’re okay with the three of them being together?”

              “Well, I think I’ll just ask Javy. We’re pretty upfront about shit like that. I’ll tell him it’s cool.”

              “And what if he denies it?”

              “Then we have to catch them in the act.”

              Bradley pulls a face, because while he is supportive and wants his friends to be happy, he also doesn’t want to walk in on anyone while they think they’re having a private moment.

              “You don’t want to see three hot people getting freaky Bradshaw?”

              “No. Voyeurism is not something I get off on. Makes me feel… bad for intruding.”

              “Ugh. I’m not talking about ambushing them. Like last night, I was walking into my own house and they were just all sitting there, out in the open. They weren’t trying to hide.”

              “Maybe they’re not trying to hide? Maybe they’re just waiting for us to get a clue?”

              “Maybe…” Bradley offers, but he doesn’t think it’s quite right.

…           …           …

              “Hey, sorry about interrupting the three of you last night.”

              “What?” Javy asks, looking up from his book, the words Jake just said running through his head and he still can’t parse them.

              “You and Bob and Phoenix. Happy for you bro.”

              “Uh… what?”

              “You can stop pretending or hiding, I’m okay with you being in a relationship with both Bob and Phoenix.”

              “Not that I need your permission or blessing for a relationship, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

              “That’s okay, it’s fine if you’re not ready to share yet, but I just wanted to let you know I won’t have a problem with it.”

              Javy isn’t sure what to say, mumbles thanks as Jake punches his shoulder and saunters off and he feels like he definitely came off worse in that exchange, because not only did he not get any information about how Jake feels about his dinner with Rooster, but Jake thinks he’s… what? With both Bob and Phoenix?

              He hasn’t thought about it before. Well. He’s had sex with both Bob and Natasha, but not both of them together at the same time. His brain sparks with images, able to provide plenty of evidence of his time with both of them and he’s imagining being with them both and it would be, could only be, better. Oh god. Is this where their friendship is headed? Does he want it to? Do either of the other two think that’s where they’re heading? He looks around the empty break room, wonders if this is a suitable place to maybe have a little baby freak out. Of course that’s when the door opens and one of the subjects of said freak out walks in.

              “Hey Bob…”

              “Coyote. Javy. You okay?”

              “Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

              He’s slept with friends before. Hell. He’s slept with Jake, and if that wasn’t the biggest fucking realization he ever had about what he wanted and didn’t want in a sexual partner. He’s also slept with strangers, and he knows he prefers sex with people he knows and likes. Bob and Phoenix were both fantastic and okay, he may have fantasized about both of them, but not seriously. Not considered an actual relationship with both of them.

              “You ever had a threesome Bob?”

              Bob’s head whips around so fast, eyes wide and he looks shocked by the question, but Javy knows better, knows it’s totally a front.

              “I don’t usually kiss and tell. Why do you ask?”

              “Yeah, sorry. Just. I wasn’t talking about sex though. Well. Not just sex. I meant like a relationship with three people. You and two others.”

              “A polyamorous relationship you mean? Where everyone knows everyone?”

              “Yeah.”

              “I haven’t been in one. I wouldn’t rule it out though.”

              Javy meets his gaze and it’s serious, contemplative and he swallows, wonders, hopes, that maybe he’s reading into this right.

…           …           …

              He settles himself opposite Hangman, stretches his legs out and apologizes when he bumps his legs. The apology is waved away.

              “Has Bob talked to you yet? He wants to go for a drink and do an escape room thing. He was talking about how he was going to talk to you about it,” Bradley says, ordering a bowl of fries and a beer from the hovering server. Hangman hasn’t moved his legs and he can feel the warmth from them seeping into his own legs.

              “He hasn’t yet. Do you think they’ve nominated him to break the news to us in a place where we can’t just run away?”

              “I don’t think they actually lock you in the room,” Bradley snorts.

              “No, I know that. But Bob will think it’s a way of making us work together and communicate better… but we’re already doing that because we’re trying to figure out what him and Javy and Phoenix are up to.”

              “You seriously think that they’ve together?”

              “Javy looked completely poleaxed when I confronted him, like he hadn’t realized that other people might realize they were together.”

              “Well, Phoenix denied that they’re together, but she was lying when I asked if she’d had sex with them.”

              “You can tell when she’s lying?”

              “Yep. So I think that they’re maybe not together together yet. I think they’re figuring things out.”

              “Huh. Okay then. I guess we’re doing an escape room with Bob then.”

              “Yeah. I guess so.”

FOUR

[mynamesaplant]

It Changes, like Water (CH. 1)

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Summary: Akari has just met Gaeric for the first time and is still a little rattled by the experience. Ingo tries to reassure her by telling her a story.

Content Warning: Blood, bodily injury, and wild animal attack

Notes: I've made this in honor of Monsoon-of-Art and their PLA mer au (and just a touch from a different au where Gaeric acts as Irida's guardian). Many of the scenes in this fic are directly inspired by their work, there mer stuff more specifically. I've been a big fan of them since I started playing PLA and I've only grown to love all their characterizations of some of my favorite characters in all of Pokemon. Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3.

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“Hey Ingo?”

The large mer was studying the near microscopic flute that Akari had, humming in acknowledgement but still absorbed in his observations. The light wasn’t the best for looking it over in the tidal cavern, but this was the only place he felt safe meeting Akari so close to shore, the cavern offered some protection from any would be outside observers of the clans or the humans. Ingo was trying to think of any mention of a flute quite like this before in the time he had been with the clan, but nothing seemed to jump to mind.

Akari was in the process of reorganizing her bag before returning to the settlement, how it always got to be such a mess was always a mystery to her but her efforts were thwarted by events of the day. The teenager’s mind was still on her earlier encounter with the not quite so large but infinitely more terrifying Warden Gaeric. He was instantly suspicious of her, commenting on her small size and color of her coat after a brief interrogation, ears pinned back and a snarl on his face as he looked at her uniform like he was trying to place it but couldn’t, that was just before Ingo came to her rescue.

“Gaeric’s the one messing with all the supply ships, isn’t he?”

That caught Ingo’s attention, looking away from his open palm to her. Akari was squinting up at him, trying to parse any subtle emotions in his expression. He knew eventually she would ask; it wasn’t hard to put two and two together given Gaeric’s attitude. Despite knowing this question was inevitable, Ingo felt a cold spike of guilt lance his spine and his ears droop even lower. That was answer enough for her.

“He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me if he knew for sure, would he?”

“Gaeric doesn’t hurt pups.”

His answer was swift, but it wasn’t quite a satisfactory one and they both knew it. Ingo was certain that, even if anyone else other than himself knew the truth about Akari and her mysterious flute, they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt her. Akari was a child – the magical white coat helped with the illusion, at least at first. It made everyone pause in complete befuddlement. Was she sick? Why was her growth so stunted for someone her age? It was hard to see Akari as anything but a sick, stunted pup with that pale coat. Although she was representing herself illegitimately and she was part of the exploration team that was causing irreparable harm to the fisheries of both clans with their presence, Ingo didn’t think a single member of either clan could bring harm upon her… especially not with how close he was tailing her.

“But I’m not a pup!”

She protested, her stomach souring when she considered how close her call with Gaeric could have been. They both knew the truth and Akari had the sneaking suspicion that Ingo was softening the truth to spare her from the dangers of her situation.

“He wouldn’t hurt you. Gaeric attacks vessels, he doesn’t hurt the people on those vessels.”

“Ingo, he leaves them in ice cold water for hours on end after destroying those supply ships. Some of them don’t make it. They die from hypothermia. We don’t have thick fur like you guys do!”

He flinched, turning his head away and tugging his cap over his eyes to obscure the pain in them. He could see it from both points of view. Gaeric’s priority was the clan, protecting them and their territory, and he saw the Galaxy Team as a threat – which they were. They were horning in on their territory, taking away from their primary food source, and potentially endangering their vulnerable pups. The team’s presence was a threat that no one in the clans knew what to do about. Gaeric, never one for subtly or decorum, did what he thought was best to dissuade the Galaxy Team from settling there. Ingo knew it was too late for that, but there was no point explaining that to Gaeric. It wouldn’t stop him, and it would already make Ingo seem stranger that he was defending humans.

Akari and her team were explorers and researchers, their interests lie in the sea, so of course they were going to butt heads frequently with the elusive mers, whether intentionally or not. Galaxy Team thought of them as monsters, huge moving shadows beneath the water that would destroy all they had built in an instant – Gaeric was certainly not helping in that regard. These people were mostly curious, and he could sympathize with innocent curiosity.

“Gaeric is concerned for the wellbeing of Pearl Clan, Akari. I understand his methods seem drastic, but-”

“Seem drastic? Ingo, they are drastic!”

Ingo’s frown deepened. He wasn’t trying to justify his fellow warden’s actions, but that was certainly how he made it sound. He knew why Gaeric was the way he was. His love for his clan ran deep. The mer glanced toward the sun sinking steadily toward the horizon from the exposed mouth of the cavern, soon to be swallowed up by the sea. He looked back at Akari, jaw set and mouth quirked like she was trying hard not to cry in front of him.

“I apologize.”

Ingo said gently, sinking lower in the water to be more on her level. Akari quickly spun away from him on the rock on which she was perched, her arms folded over her chest.

“I’m not trying to minimize the damage Gaeric has done and the people he has hurt. Gaeric doesn’t feel as though anyone is being proactive in the case of the hu – Galaxy Team. So, he takes it upon himself to be proactive, and takes it too far. He has a lot of misplaced guilt when it comes to protecting the clan… May I tell you a story before you return to your settlement? It might help you understand where he’s coming from.”

Although she was not facing him, he could tell he had caught her interest and he folded his arms over the large rock, resting his head on his forearms. He did his best to recall all the details.

Next Chapter >>

[plisuu]

Happy Friday and welcome back! How about for Connor x Bull and "I'd rather deny my feelings than have to explain them" 👀

I've been sitting on this prompt for a while and finally have words for my thoughts!

I didn't think anyone could be dumber than Connor and Cullen but I think these two really take the cake.

wc: 950 @dadrunkwriting

-

“So. You and Cullen huh?”

Connor looked up with a start from the laces of his boots as he tucked the tail ends of them into worn leather.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” he asked, trying and failing to appear as nonchalant as Bull did, who still laid lounged out across his bed, fully nude and head propped up on one elbow.

“No time like the present, boss. And if we’re gonna keep doing this, we’re gonna have to talk about it.”

Connor sighed in quiet resignation. He and Bull had been casual—as casual as Connor was capable of, at least, with his desperate and constant need for reassurance, trust, and consistency. Bull was accommodating, but Connor was acutely aware that this was an arrangement, something that they both pretended didn’t exist beyond the bedroom, with set boundaries and rules.

“Fine. What about me and Cullen?”

“Are you guys a thing?”

The question gave him pause. Were they? Nothing official, certainly. It was just a flicker of feelings, a connection through the things they had suffered, stupid stories shared over ale and deeply competitive chess games when they weren’t busy yelling at each other over the war table. They were no more of a ‘thing’ than this was, so he shrugged.

“No, not really."

Bull eyed him carefully, watching him shuffle around the room, gathering pieces of clothing that had been haphazardly discarded earlier that evening.

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh? What does it look like, then?” Connor tried not to sound defensive, but the words came out harsher than he intended. He was always a little more on edge when it was time to leave, when he had to walk out of Bull’s room and pretend like nothing happened, that he was okay with it, that he didn’t want to simply curl up and sleep tucked into Bull’s side. That wasn’t the agreement they had though, so he tried to shove the feelings away, where he wouldn’t have to face them.

“I dunno. You seem close. Just wanted to know if you were serious about him,” Bull replied, pushing himself upright.

Another pause. Why did it matter? Connor shrugged on his coat halfheartedly, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles from being left in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was almost certain Bull was seeing other people, so why couldn’t he? So what if it was serious? And even if it was, he was in no position to ask Cullen for the kind of release he found beneath Bull’s hands.

“Would it be a problem if I was?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you think we should keep doing this. If it’s still working for you.”

Connor felt his anxiety rising, panic creeping its way into his chest and making it difficult to breathe. He tried to swallow it down. What did he expect? Of course he was going to have to face this at some point—to ignore it would be selfish, cruel, keeping Bull trapped in their arrangement. He knew that Dorian was becoming more and more of a prominent part of Bull’s life, someone he could be with in public, someone that could offer a real relationship, something more than secrets behind closed doors. It only made sense that Bull was looking for a way out, a way to end things gently, so he could move on.

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, just say so.”

He couldn’t parse apart the look Bull gave him, and he felt his frustration begin to bubble over into tears that he tried to hide as he turned to the washbasin, splashing his face with the cold water. He shouldn’t be crying. This was supposed to be casual, for fun, for stress relief, there wasn’t supposed to be emotional entanglement. It wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning. It wasn’t suppose to feel like he was grasping for something to hang onto and gasping for air he couldn’t reach, like the falling feeling in the pit of your stomach when you expect the next step and it isn’t there.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bull grunted. The bedframe creaked under his shifting weight as he stood. “I just figured you’d want something more stable, and if Cullen is gonna be that person for you I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I don’t…” He didn’t want to break this off. It felt like the only thing keeping him anchored, the only thing that kept him sane through the torrent of emotions and sudden onslaught of responsibility and expectations, freeing him from the immense weight of it all, if only for a moment. It was selfish, he knew that, but he wanted to be selfish, just a little longer.

“I don’t want to stop,” he finally whispered.

“Then we won’t.”

The heat of Bull's chest pressed against Connor's back, and a gentle yet heavy hand rested on his shoulder, as if anything more might break him. He wished Bull would do more, wished he could do more, but knew he shouldn’t ask—he was already asking so much. He set his hand over Bull’s, resisting the urge to lace their fingers together, to press the warmth of it against his cheek, and nodded.

Bull only sighed in response. Connor wanted to imagine it was relief, that Bull wanted this as much as he did, and he closed his eyes against the guilt that was reflected back up at him in the basin—of himself, disheveled and half-dressed, and of Bull hovering over him quietly, patient in even this.

[player1064]

jan 2019 pleak 🙏

WIP asks but it's just the various sections of my happy (???) beville (/angsty carraville) WIP

---

January, 2019.

“Ugh, Carragher invited me to his birthday party.”

David looks up at Gary over his glasses, does a pretend gasp. “Your friend invited you to a party? Someone call the fuckin’ press, this sounds like the start of a national crisis.”

“Oh shush, you. D'you think I actually 'ave to go?"

"He's turning forty, ain't he? That's a big'un."

Gary hates parties. He hates Liverpool. He hates parties in Liverpool, or he will once he's actually attended one.

He remembers the Carragher convoy at international tournaments, knows they'll be out 'til the early hours of the next morning, which means that he'll have to be out 'til the early hours because he's never in his life left a party early and he's not about to start now. Which means that he won't be able to drive home at the end, which means that he'll have to stay in Liverpool overnight, and this is sounding worse and worse by the second.

"Don't suppose you fancy comin' along too?" he asks David, because why should he have to suffer alone?

David, because he is much more of a miserable bastard than people give him credit for, hums and says "can't, I'll be in London."

"I've not told you when it is yet, you twat."

"Whenever it is, I guarantee there will be very urgent business I need to attend to. In London."

"You're not very nice."

"Oi! I am delightful."

*

Just close friends and family, Jamie had said.

Gary's yet to see anyone at this fucking party that's not related to Jamie somehow. He's not sure what Jamie would qualify as a 'close friend', but it can't be too tight a group if he counts Gary among them. He'd been expecting to see Stevie, at least. Jamie's an antisocial prick who tends to rub people the wrong way but Stevie's managed to stick it out all these years, and Glasgow's not that far away.

But two hours in and there's nobody else from football there.

He'd chatted to Jamie's dad for a while, reminisced about Big Nev - a unifying power if ever there was one. Gary's not sure he's ever met someone that knew his father who hadn't loved him. He's caught up with Nicola, entertained Jamie's kids - or tried to, as much as you can with two spoilt unimpressed teenagers.

He's starting to run out of ways to pass the time, and the party's still going strong.

There's not been much opportunity to speak to Jamie, not properly. Not that he's got much to say - he'd seen him at work just a couple of days ago, and they text pretty much every day anyway. And it's not like he's brought him a present, or even a card, so he doesn't actually have a reason to pull him away from his friends.

The more he drinks, the harder it gets to parse the Scouse screeches of the other guests into recognisable words, so he grabs a can of coke and goes to hide in the bathroom for a bit, decompress.

He's checking his emails - because it's midnight on a Saturday, why wouldn't he be checking his emails? - when the door swings open, startling him. Jamie stumbles in, flushed from drinking, and when his eyes land on Gary his whole face splits into a grin.

"Gaz!" he cheers, much too loud for such a confined space. "Was wonderin' where you'd got to, I'd been startin' to think you'd flaked out on me."

Gary shrugs. "Never, Carra, you know me. Just needed a time out."

"Ah," Jamie says, nodding sagely. "Were you getting' all - " he waves his hands around his head, as if that's explanation enough. "Wassit called, again? Senses… sensory overload, innit?"

"You been talkin' to Becks?" Gary asks suspiciously, because he's the only person he can think of that uses all those weird therapy words in casual conversation. Always, at big parties, squeezing Gary's hand and saying I know it's loud, Gaz, I know it's too much. Just keep your focus on me.

"Why the fuck would I wanna talk to 'im," Jamie scoffs, and Gary feels his heart rate pick up.

Just keep your focus on me.

He thinks… he thinks there must be something wrong with him, he must've had more to drink than he thought, because -

Because he's looking at Jamie, and he finds he doesn't want to think about Becks at all. He almost wishes - and it's crazy, there has to be something wrong with him - he almost wishes there was no Becks to think about.

Jamie's looking back at him with those piercing grey eyes, and Gary's clenches his hands at his sides before they go and do something stupid like reach out to him.

He clears his throat. "Enjoyin' your party?"

The scowl fades from Jamie's face into something softer. "Yeah," he says, nodding vigorously, "it's sound."

*

It's still dark when David is woken by Gary bustling around the bedroom, but it's the middle of winter and they have blackout blinds so really it could be any time at all. He grabs his phone to glance at the time - it's not quite 6am yet, much too early for him to be waking up. Much too late for Gary to be coming to bed.

Gary comes over and pats his hair clumsily, says "sorry, Becks, din't mean to wake you. I'll go to spare room."

David's eyes are too heavy to roll them at Gary, but he huffs an exasperated sigh and wordlessly lifts up the covers for Gary to climb in next to him.

Gary climbs into bed fully clothed and immediately snuggles up to David, the way he'd never admit to liking when he's sober. He bunches his hands in the fabric of David's t-shirt and rests his head on his chest, his breath smelling like sweet wine.

"Thought you were staying over in Liverpool?" David mumbles into Gary's hair.

"Called a cab," Gary replies vaguely. "Was missin' you."

"'s only been a few hours, weirdo."

Gary whines unhappily, so he adds "I missed you too. Will you let me get back to sleep now?"

[scientia-rex]

Hey saw your post about weight loss and I'm a big fan and it makes total sense. Just curious how being overweight affects pregnancy. I feel like because I'm overweight I'm going to have a high risk pregnancy. Not pregnant at all right now but it's been on my mind lately

Oh boy. Weight in pregnancy is a WHOLE other topic, and not in my wheelhouse--I haven't delivered a baby in over two years now. (They love to show up at 3am and I love sleeping.) The short answer is that if you gain more than the recommended amount of weight during pregnancy, baby is also likely to be bigger, and that's a problem because your pelvis is not capable of expanding, so you run a higher risk of shoulder dystocia, which is where the baby actually jams in the pelvis on the way out, which is typically fatal to the baby within 5 minutes if we can't get them out because they can't breathe and their umbilical blood supply is cut off so the oxygen is not available. There is also a higher risk for gestational diabetes, aka high blood sugars in pregnancy, which also raises the risk of a larger baby. HOWEVER, a lot of this raises questions current research doesn't really answer--are fatter people at more risk in pregnancy because they're fat, or are they fat because they're high-risk? And a lot of people who deliver babies, whether they're OBs or family medicine or midwives or, God help us, lay midwives, will go full-on raging fatphobia, which makes it difficult to parse out genuinely helpful advice from terrible bullshit. Obstetrics in general is the least evidence-based medical field, because no one wants to be the asshole who ran a study that somehow hurt babies, so instead we just fumble around blindly in the dark a lot of the time going "well this SHOULD work" and hoping. Also, racism! Huge thing in obstetrics. Black women have 4 times the risk of dying in pregnancy/childbirth as white women, and of course racism and fatphobia dovetail, where fat Black women get treated particularly badly by the medical establishment.

Long story short, the best way to prepare for possible pregnancy is to take the best possible care of YOU--that means exercise and eating lots of veggies, not because that will make you thin, but because it improves your blood vessel and heart health, your bone health, your stash of nutrients that baby will raid during development, your muscle strength, and so on. And take the time BEFORE you want to get pregnant to find a doctor who delivers babies (whether that's an OB/GYN or a family doctor) who treats you like a human being.

And, controversially, I do think it's best to have a doctor for most pregnancies. Not because midwives can't provide excellent care, but because obstetrics is all about the situations where something goes wrong, and we are very bad at predicting who will have something go wrong. The worst delivery I was ever in looked fine on paper. First-time mom, dilated fine, pushing went great, no problems on the fetal heart monitor, baby descended just fine. Then baby crowned, got shoulder dystocia, my attending had to take over for me and do the maneuvers to free the baby, baby comes out and has to go straight to resuscitation, and I look back over at mom to realize more blood is coming out of her vagina than should immediately after delivery, by A LOT, and we almost had to call a massive tranfusion protocol for her. She hemorrhaged 2 liters of blood in minutes. Then she developed post-partum preeclampsia, which can be fatal if you don't have medical management right there. We had to put her on a magnesium drip to prevent seizures. That was the worst delivery I ever did, and I'm counting the 17-year-old primipara (first-time mom) I worked with while a med student, who delivered in the back-ass of nowhere, spoke Spanish only with an attending doctor who spoke English only in a hospital that didn't bother with interpreters until active labor, and needed forceps, a technique fewer and fewer doctors even practice. No epidural. Forceps without an epidural is, no joke, something that scares me to the point where I simply would not do an unblocked birth.

One of the major causes of maternal death is hemorrhage. If you have an IV in someone's arm pouring in fluid, you can survive with as little as about 1/7th of your original blood. Red blood cells can do a LOT of heavy lifting. And that buys you time for someone to get up to Labor & Delivery from the first floor with the on-hand packed red blood cells that then go into the IV and save your life. Blood transfusions are life-saving, and they are life-saving every single day in the US.

And hemorrhage risk goes up with subsequent babies. Someone giving birth for the first time is at higher risk for a lot of things, but someone giving birth for the 5th time who figures they're OK with a home birth because their other births went fine can bleed out in minutes.

I don't like or trust the medical establishment, and I think OB care has a LONG way to go in the US, because we create PTSD in about 11% of people who give birth. Maternal PTSD is far more prevalent in the US than combat PTSD. I would still have a medical doctor be my obstetrical care provider, because I don't want to die like that.

[corpsentry]

there’s something so epic about hetero chinese period dramas and i think one part of it is that there is absolutely nowhere in the narrative i could exist.

lately i’ve been on a western media detox— i’ve cleaned english language music out of my playlists and have never been able to stomach western dramas anyway, so that part is easy— which might seem funny, because if i’m in singapore and i hate it and i won’t touch american music then what’s left? the answer is the false binarism of chinese period dramas, at least for me. the badly written ones are misogynistic and stupid and the better ones are less of those things, but regardless the world that emerges is clean-cut and easy to parse. there’s someone to root for and someone to hate. there’s a girl and a boy. there’s the comedy and the drama, the sheer thick drama, the music that signals to you precisely how to feel before the scene even starts going

try to jam a fifth culture transnational transgender they/them with 2 mental illness and 1 autoimmune disease into this world and it simply doesn’t work. and that’s kinda epic lolzers! it’s like watching high fantasy, or super hardcore sci-if. it both represents a simulacrum of the real world and is so far from the reality you know that you understand it as a hypothetical universe, one that disincludes you on principle. i exclude myself from the story and in doing so fangfei from moyuyunjian’s steely gaze becomes all the more important. i give so many shits and laugh and yell and spectate. but i am safe from the eyes of its inhabitants. if i entered the story it would break. so i sit outside of it, clapping by myself

in other news, we gave up on mysterious lotus casebook 16 episodes in. there are many character archetypes in these shows that i can no longer stand; the salacious sexy seductive supervillain lady is not necessarily one of them but the way they did miss ‘this man didn’t even Look at me when all men fall at my knees so i hated him’ ‘no one is allowed to steal buttchin from me’ jiao was way up there. surely a woman can have multiple personality traits and yet you would think from this drama that that is not at all true. and the strange harem that grew around li lianhua despite his absolute loser attitude— like i get it, he’s the gintoki of this show, that’s hot, but the way the women who were into him were written made me want to Eat Horse. it bothered me that di feisheng and lianhua’s homo as fuck dynamic was so intriguing and them + fang duobing was a winning trio but all the women in the show were written like complete fucking ass, and one of the big antagonists being a woman, the stakes throughout were not only lost to me but also Pissed Me Off. also, that case about the corpse flowers dragged on forever and all my pocky wilted

I Just Think, women deserve better in these damn stories. make them slutty as hell, sure, but make them other things too and i mean this in the most generous sense. slutty and proud. slutty and weird. slutty and oblivious. literally anything at all so they don’t come out cardboard flat from all angles. this is why i have a personal vendetta against the ditzy clueless female protagonist as well because if everything stems from the fact that she doesn’t know shit it’s like please someone Please tell her shit i’m on my hands and knees begging. give her more to chew on she’s dying of boredom over there

this is why i liked the so called antagonist of blossoms in adversity best (spoilers ahead). he was cruel as hell to huazhi and gu yanxi’s only parental figure. he was paranoid and selfish and lonely and craved a son’s love from the one person he couldn’t hold onto. in the end he is pushed further and further by huazhi, who won’t give in, to isolate yanxi from the people he loves and to lash out at those people as a way of punishing yanxi. and when he dies it’s because of his own distrust, his own negligent parenting, his absent cruelty from decades of insomnia and lack of faith in his people. but he cries for yanxi, and there’s something so human about that. to think of evil not as a first principle but rather an adjective for a verb that is set in motion by other events. to be honest, i haven’t seen such thoughtful writing in any chinese period drama before or after that and i strongly suspect i will never see such writing again in this genre but man, it was so fucking good (spoilers end).

in the meantime, i’ve dragged my mother to moyuyunjian/the double for the return casting of liu xiening and wang xingyue who are Eating so hard. they’ve got wang xingyue done up with the sluttiest makeup and liu xiening is breaking my heart with her pout and her Sassy Mean constitution and this is a revenge story, yes, but it’s a double revenge story. it’s a grief story. and fangfei is carrying more on her shoulders than lingbuyi imo, and doing so with much more grace too. her step mom’s a dick but she’s a smart, 5d chess playing dick who wears hot shades of green so i’m personally interested enough to keep watching (something lotus casebook DID NOT accomplish with their epic female antagonist…. mein gotte). and the princess too. unhinged as hell but god, so charismatic. and beautiful, with scary big eyes and the sweetest head tilt. fun fun fun! that’s fun character writing right there. the comedy might be too straightforward for my tastes but everything else is kind of hot and sexy And after the coming of age ceremony when jiangli appeared amidst the flowers i felt my throat close up even though we saw her for all of one (1) episode). i was like yes. they got me alright. i Care now

really that’s all that matters isn’t it. we want stories about people we care for. we want to give a shit. why else would we listen to the stories of other people. we are looking for us and the people we love in them

oh also moyuyunjian soundtrack goes hard as hell i love a little three step waltz. here’s a pic from the ‘gym’ for ur time. guten night