#debate cultur is not you arguing with your friend or a philosopher

[inazuma-fulgur]

Accepting unpleasant and weird to you things and just letting them exist should be more normal

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Asylum | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of parental abuse (take care of yourselves my lovebugs)

Word Count: 5444

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You and the boys had bonded quite a lot since Kansas. You and Sam had always been close; bonding over random pop culture debates, philosophical musings, and your interest in the pursuit of knowledge. It was your relationship with Dean that was really starting to confuse you.

You knew you were attracted to him; that much you had never denied. But it was the way your heart seemed to tug toward him in your chest when you two made your pinky promise next to his car that confused the hell out of you. You and Dean were friends, and that was truly all you needed from him. Or, at least, that was what you told yourself.

Sam was on the phone with one of his father’s friends named Caleb. The boys were growing frustrated at their inability to find him. Every lead they followed was a dead end. 

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s,” Sam suggested.

“We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail,” Dean rebutted.

Sam shook his head. “I don't care anymore.”

Dean’s cell phone rang on the bed next to you. You got up to bring it over to him. 

“After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean, he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and… nothing. You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

Dean took the phone from you. “Don't say that! He's not dead! He's – he's…”

“He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?” Sam argued.

Dean went to respond, but the message on his cell phone caught his attention. “Huh. I don't believe it.”

“What?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

“It's, uh, it's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean immediately opened his laptop and began clacking away.

“You think Dad was texting us?” Sam asked.

“He's given us coordinates before,” Dean said.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean.”

“Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least.”

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?”

“Nah, it said 'unknown,’ “ Dean replied.

“Well, where do the coordinates point?”

“That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois.”

“Interesting how?” you asked him.

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He handed the paper to you. “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?” Sam questioned.

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let’s see…” Dean flipped to the page. “Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths; till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam snorted. “This is a job. Dad wants us to work a job.”

“Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?”

“Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.”

“Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!”

“Guys—” Their bickering had gotten more frequent in days of late, and it was beginning to bug the shit out of you.

“This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?” Sam pressed.

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.”

Sam made a bitchface at his brother and sighed.

***

Your destination was a bar in Rockford you had stalked the cop you knew was the partner of the deceased. You found him sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. You monitored the scene from a few tables behind. Dean was to meet you there after his interaction with the cop.

“You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?” he asked.

The cop nodded.

“Huh. I'm uh, Nigel Tufnel, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions, about your partner?” he asked enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here.”

“That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words,” Dean continued.

The cop was not amused. “A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?”

“Sorry. But I need to know what happened.”

Sam came up and pushed Dean aside roughly. “Hey buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why dontcha show a little respect!”

He was calling an unnecessary amount of attention to himself that amused you slightly. Dean paused, glaring before walking over to you.

“Spinal Tap?” you questioned, laughing, referencing his fake name. “Seriously?” The two of you began walking out of the bar over to the Impala. 

“What? It’s a classic!”

“I’m not arguing that,” you said. “But what are the chances he knew your reference?” You sat on the hood next to Dean.

“Oh, come on, we’re probably the only two people in Rockford who even know what Spinal Tap is,” he remarked.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. 

“How’s your neck healing?” Dean asked.

You turned your neck up to him. There was still quite a bit of bruising from the way you were strangled back in Kansas. He sucked in air through his teeth. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” 

“Meh, a bit,” you answered. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Are we ever gonna talk about Kansas?”

“Hmm… I did pinky-promise,” you jested. 

“That you did.” He looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “My dad was uh, a bit of an asshole. The man’s dead and I still can’t decide if I love or hate him. He was mean. And that’s putting it mildly. For instance, like, one time, I missed a shot on a hunt, and he beat me til I was black and blue later that night. Said it was gonna make me sharper, and he’d rather me hate him than fuck up again like that on a hunt. I was twelve.”

“Wow,” Dean responded quietly. “How young were you when he started taking you on hunts?”

“Ten.”

“Holy crap. Could you even hold a gun at that age?’

“Please, I���ve been able to hold a gun since I was four. He said I needed a dose of reality if I wanted to complain so much about being in the motel room with my brother.”

He nodded. “How much younger was your brother?”

“Two years.” You smiled at the memory of him, but your smile quickly faded. “I, uh, took beatings for him a lot.”

Dean nodded again. He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged and sighed. “It’s over now.”

“Yeah, but I know it still hurts.”

You don’t know what made you do it, but you leaned your head on his shoulder. He tensed under you briefly, but let you keep your head there. 

You hadn’t noticed Sam walked out of the bar and was approaching the two of you. “You two look cozy.”

You jerked away from Dean. 

“Bite me,” the older Winchester answered. "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy.”

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting,” Sam quipped.

Dean looked confused.

“Never mind.”

“What'd you find out from Gunderson?” you asked.

“So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.”

“What about at home?”

“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.”

“Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him,” Dean nodded. “What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?”

“A lot.” Sam filled you in on the local legends and experiences teens had in the place. Kids frequently dared each other to spend the night because it was said everyone who stayed all night went crazy. 

You and the boys arrived at the asylum a little while later. The interior of the building was gray and gloomy. Metal carts were laying on their sides, vials spilled all over the ground, and you were sure you would find needles sticking out of the soles of your boots by the end of the endeavor. Dust covered every surface, flaring up your allergy, and every few minutes you were sneezing. 

“So apparently the cops chased the kids here… into the south wing,” Sam described, gesturing to the sign above the door.

“South wing, huh? Wait a second…” He pulled out his dad’s journal. “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it,” you continued.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” Dean questioned.

You noticed a broken chain on one of the doors. “Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years. Keep people out or keep something in.”

Sam slowly pushed the door open, and the three of you began heading down the hallway. 

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel,” Dean remarked at his brother. He was passing his EMF meter over various surfaces in the hallway.

“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned.

“I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.”

“I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

“And that’s not ESP?” you quipped. 

Sam made a face at you. “Okay, maybe it is, but—”

You snickered.

“Not funny, (Y/N/N).” He playfully shoved your shoulder. “You get any reading on that thing or not?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home.”

“Spirits can appear during certain hours of the day.”

“Yeah, the freaks come out at night.”

“Hey, Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?” Dean deadpanned.

You and Dean laughed, and Sam shoved the both of you. The three of you entered another room. You looked around, a sinking feeling hitting your stomach.

“Man. Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people,” you shook your head.

“Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest.” Dean made crazy eyes and grinned at you and Sam.

Sam ignored him and his smile dropped. 

“So. Whaddaya think? Ghosts possessing people?” Dean questioned.

“Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting,” Sam suggested.

“Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean grinned again.

“You are such a nerd,” you mumbled.

“Hey, don’t talk about Sam like that,” Dean gibed back, even though he knew you were talking about him.

“Dean. When are we going to talk about it?” Sam asked his brother.

“Talk about what?”

“About the fact Dad's not here.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Oh. I see. How ’bout… never.”

“I'm being serious, man. He sent us here.”

“So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here,” said Dean gruffly. “We'll pick up the search later.”

“It doesn't matter what he wants.”

“See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie.”

You scoffed. “C’mon, guys, cut it out.”

Sam ignored you. “Dad could be in trouble; we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about.”

“I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order.”

You loved Sam, but you were on Dean’s side. Your father’s training probably programmed you that way.

“So, what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?” Sam bit back.

“Of course we do.”

Sam huffed frustratedly. Dean stared back and then turned away, ending the conversation.

You started poking around the room a bit more. You picked up a dusty sign off the floor and sneezed again. “ 'Sanford Ellicott'... You know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here.” You put the sign back down and walked away from the boys. 

***

You and Dean dropped Sam off at a therapy session with Sanford Ellicott’s son, James Ellicott. You figured it was the best way to get information from someone close to the situation. In the meantime, you and Dean spent some time hanging out in the Impala. 

Conversation between the two of you never felt forced. You still enjoyed pushing each other’s buttons, but you genuinely got along very well.

“Okay, so, I told you about my fucked up family, you need to talk about yours,” you told Dean. 

He scoffed and gave you a bitchface. “Says who?”

“Says me. Now, spill.”

Dean seemed uncomfortable.

You took the hint. “Okay, if you don’t wanna talk about it now, will you tell me at some point?”

He nodded and stuck out his pinky with a smirk. “Promise.”

A smile spread across your face and you linked his finger with yours. “Okay, then. Different question. What’s your favorite color?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What?”

“I’m serious! What’s your favorite color? Mine’s (Y/F/C).”

“Blue,” he answered. 

“Like, baby blue or navy blue?”

“Definitely closer to navy,” he told you. He was eyeing you strangely again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked him.

“You… confuse me.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow. “Why?”

He shook his head. The one thing you hated about Dean was his inability to talk about quite literally any of his feelings. 

“Will you ever tell me why?” you asked.

He nodded and stuck out his pinky again. You smiled warmly and took it.

***

“He’s been in there for-fucking-ever,” you groaned, pushing yourself off the wall of the building. 

As if on cue, Sam walked out at that moment. 

“Dude! What the hell were you talking about?” you asked as you headed back to the car with the brothers. 

“Just the hospital, you know,” Sam responded.

“And...?” Dean pushed.

“And the south wing? It's where the housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.”

“Sounds cozy.”

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.”

“So the patients took over the asylum?” you questioned.

“Apparently,” Sam answered.

“Any deaths?”

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.”

“Awesome. What do you mean ‘never recovered’?”

“Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden.”

“That's grim,” the older brother commented.

“Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down,” Sam explained.

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.”

“And a bunch of angry spirits.”

Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight.”

***

You held a shotgun full of rock salt round, Sam a video camera and flashlight, and Dean his EMF meter.

“Getting readings?” Sam asked as you walked down the labyrinth of hallways in the asylum.

“Yeah, big time,” his brother responded.

“This place is orbing like crazy.”

“All of these unrecovered bodies are probably causing it,” you added.

“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em. Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.” Dean’s unwavering confidence cracked a little in a rare moment of vulnerability.

The three of you continued searching. You and Sam split off to one room and Dean took another. You looked around the debris scattered through the room to try and find some of the bodies.

Sam’s yelp caused you to wheel around “(Y/N), shotgun!” he called to you

You came up behind him. “Sam, drop!”

He obeyed and you shot the apparition in front of him square in the face.

Dean came running into the room. “What happened?”

“That was weird.” Sam was breathless when he got up from the ground. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the three of you made your way out of the room. “Why?”

“She didn't attack me,” the younger brother replied.

“Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing,” you retorted.

“She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?”

You shook your head and shrugged. You and the brothers jerked in the direction of a sound coming from a room you were passing. You raised your shotgun, and your eyes flicked to Sam’s. He nodded at you to go into the room first. You approached a ragged metal bed that had been turned on its side in the corner of the room. You could see something hiding behind it. 

Sam tipped the bed over and you aimed the shotgun at the thing behind it. However, the girl hiding behind it screeched and jerked further back into the corner.

“It's alright,” Dean told her, “we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?”

“Katherine. Kat.”

“Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam and (Y/N).”

“What are you doing here!?” you asked her.

“Um, my boyfriend, Gavin,” she replied shakily.

“Is he here?” Dean questioned.

Kat nodded. “Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just… you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and…” she trailed off, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alright. Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.” Dean gestured between the two of you.

“No! No,” she protested. “I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.”

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous,” Dean responded.

“That's why I gotta find him.”

You looked over at Sam, who shrugged.

“Alright, I guess we gonna split up then. Let's go,” Dean commanded your group. Kat went with Dean and you headed off with Sam. You kept your shotgun raised just behind Sam, tension gripping your chest.

“Gavin.... Gavin?” Sam called.

A few minutes of walking later, you noticed a figure on the ground unconscious. Sam crouched to wake the boy up, and you lowered your gun. 

Gavin awoke and freaked out, pushing himself away from you and Sam.

You were consistently impressed by Sam’s ability to calm others down. “Hey, Gavin. It's okay, We’re here to help.”

Gavin calmed down considerably, but still sounded slightly panicked. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sam, this is (Y/N). Uh, we found your girlfriend.”

“Kat?” Gavin got up from the floor. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?” you asked.

“I was running. I think I fell.”

“Running from… what?” you questioned.

“There was...there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up,” he explained.

“Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?” Sam asked.

Gavin looked back at Sam and shook his head. “What? No, she... uh…”

“She what?”

“She kissed me.” Gavin’s cheeks flared in embarrassment.

Sam seemed to feel uncomfortable, too. “Uh, um, but- but she didn't hurt you, physically?”

His eyes widened. “Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!” 

“Well, trust me, it could have been a lot worse,” you snickered. “Do you remember anything else?”

“She uh, actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.”

“What?”

Gavin shook his head. “I don't know. I ran like hell.”

You scrubbed a hand over your eyes. “Okay, let’s go.”

The three of you went walking on, only to hear a female scream and Dean calling Kat’s name. The three of you broke off running toward the sound. 

“What's going on?” you asked Dean as you approached him. He was trying to jimmy open a heavy metal door with a pipe.

“She's inside with one of them,” the older Winchester explained.

“Help me!” Kat screamed from the inside.

“Kat!” her boyfriend called back.

“Get me outta here!”

Sam pushed Gavin back to get against the door. “Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down.”

You and Dean turned to Sam. “She's gotta what?!” you exclaimed in unison.

“These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it,” Sam urged.

“You face it!” Kat protested.

“No! It's the only way to get out of there.”

“No!” she cried.

“Look at it, come on. You can do it,” Sam told her.

And then, quiet. There was nothing for a few minutes.

“Kat?” Gavin called through the door.

You and the brothers backed away from it. “Man, I hope you're right about this,” Dean told his brother.

“Yeah, me too.”

At that moment, the lock clicked and the door slowly opened. Kat stood in the doorway, shock overcoming her face. 

“Oh, Kat.” Gavin hugged his girlfriend.

You headed into the room Kat had been locked in. Nothing. You came back out and shook your head at the brothers.

“One thirty-seven,” Kat muttered.

Dean quirked a brow. “Sorry?”

“It whispered in my ear. One thirty-seven.”

“Room number,” you and the boys muttered in sync.

The three of you crouched along the wall and led the teenagers back to the exit. Sam was to take them out of the asylum while you and Dean went to investigate room 137.

You sneezed again for the umpteenth time. Your eyes were itching you, too.

“Are you allergic to me or something?” Dean asked you as you moved down the hall toward room 137.

You giggled. “No. Dust.”

“Aw, sweetheart—” he mocked, “—don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the dust bunnies.”

You rubbed your nose and sniffed. “I’m gonna kill you.” You pushed against the door of room 137, only to meet major resistance. You figured there was a bunch of furniture blocking it.

“Move, move,” Dean told you. Of course, he shoved the door open with ease. He looked at you smugly.

“Whatever,” you deadpanned, pushing past him into the room. You moved your flashlight around the dark room, finding tons of papers scattered over the floor. Filing cabinets were laying on their sides and a desk was completely broken in half. You sifted through folders in one of the only upright file cabinets. 

Dean was behind you, and you could hear wood creaking. He grunted. You turned to see him trying to pry a wood panel off the wall.

“Need help, princess?” you asked.

“No,” he grunted once more, finally jerking the panel off. Inside was a satchel that was relatively dust free. “This is why I get paid the big bucks.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

The two of you pulled up chairs next to one another and began flipping through the journal inside the satchel. There were mad scribblings and hand-drawn pictures of the strangest medical instruments.

“Well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy,” Dean remarked.

“This is insane,” you muttered, disgust overtaking you as you read the doctor’s accounts of what he had done to his patients. 

“Yeah, I want this fucker nice and crispy,” Dean said. “C’mon.” 

He led you back to the exit of the asylum, and Dean jerked back into you suddenly at the sound of a shotgun. 

“Damn it, damn it, don't shoot! It's us!” Dean called, trying to catch his breath.

You heard Kat from around the corner next. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“Son of a…” Dean huffed out a quick breath. He led you around the corner. “What are you still doing here?! Where's Sam?”

“He went to the basement. You called him,” Gavin said, looking at Dean dumbfounded.

“We didn’t call anybody,” you returned.

“His cell phone rang. He said it was Dean.” Kat was confused, too.

You and Dean came to the realization of what happened. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Basement, huh?”

Dean found Sam’s discarded duffel bag and grabbed an extra handgun. He handed it to you and grabbed a shotgun for himself. “Alright. Watch yourselves. And watch out for me!”

***

You and Dean had your guards up immediately upon entering the basement. The two of you called out to Sam, only to get no response. When you turned around, however, Sam was right in front of you. “Holy shit, dude!” you lowered your handgun. “I almost shot you.”

“Man, answer me when I'm calling you! You alright?” Dean said.

Sam sounded different to you. “Yeah. I'm fine.”

You eyed him strangely. 

“You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?” his older brother told him.

“Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here.”

“I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?” 

Sam shook his head. “No. How do you know it was him?”

“’Cause we found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin,” Dean retorted.

Sam’s face was set in hard lines. He was scaring you, if you were honest. “But it was the patients who rioted.”

“Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal,“ Dean went on. “Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch ’em.”

You continued to eye Sam, not quite sure what was going on with him. 

“How? The police never found his body.” Sam’s movements were almost robotic.

“The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself.”

“I don't know, it sounds kinda…”

“Crazy?”

Sam nodded.

Dean motioned for his brother to follow him into the next room. You continued to watch Sam carefully, and the sly look he gave his brother did not escape you.

“I told you I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room,” Sam said.

“Well, that's why they call it hidden.”

You shushed the boys. “You hear that?” You crouched to the ground and Dean followed suit. 

Sam was still standing behind him. “What?”

“There's a door here.” Dean felt along the wall until he found it.

“Dean.” You heard a gun click behind you. “Step back from the door.”

You and Dean rose from the ground with your hands raised. Blood was trickling down Sam’s face from his nose. 

“Sam, put the gun down,” Dean pleaded quietly.

Sam’s voice was hard. “Is that an order?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, it's more of a friendly request.”

Sam pointed the gun straight at Dean’s chest. “ ’Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders.”

“Sam, stop it,” you told him. “I fucking knew it. Ellicott did something to you.”

“(Y/N), for once in your life, just shut your mouth.”

You knew it wasn’t Sam talking and you tried not to take offense.

“What are you gonna do, Sam? Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me,” Dean bit back.

Sam shot Dean square in the chest. The shot threw him backward through the hidden door. “No. But it will hurt like hell.”

“Dean!” you cried, rushing to his aid. 

“Get back, (Y/N),” Sam demanded. 

“What the fuck, Sam? Cut it out!”

Dean grabbed your arm, doing his best to silence you and steady himself. “We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal.”

“I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ’Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?” the younger brother spat.

“This isn't you talking, Sam,” Dean groaned, head lolling back against the floor.

Sam tapped the gun to the side of his head. “That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you.”

“So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me? Then (Y/N)?”

Sam laughed bitterly. “You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago.”

“Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you." He held his treasured handgun out to Sam.

“Dean, no,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist. The look he gave you told you to trust him. “Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt.”

Sam hesitated.

“Take it!” Dean commanded.

He did, and pointed the gun straight at Dean’s face. 

Dean laughed humorlessly. “You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!” 

Sam pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, but no bullet left it. He tried once again. You took the opportunity to kick Sam square in the stomach, knocking him to the floor and winding him. 

Dean scrambled to his feet. “Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!”

Sam stared up at him with venomous disdain, only to receive a wicked right cross from Dean. Sam was knocked out cold.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean patted his brother’s head on the ground.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The two of you found the rotting corpse of Dr. Ellicott behind a cupboard door. The smell nearly knocked you out. “Holy hell.”

Dean covered his nose with the back of his hand. “Oh, that's just gross.”

You pinched your nose with one hand and salted the body while Dean covered it in kerosene. “Soak it up,” he told the doctor. The two of you went to stand, only to be knocked to the floor by a gurney flying across the room.

You looked up to see the ghost of Dr. Ellicott right above you. “Don’t be afraid.” The doctor grabbed your face. “I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better.” His fingertips felt like they were burning holes into your skull.

You wailed in agony. And suddenly, he backed away from you. You dropped to the ground and looked up to see the doctor turning black and falling to the floor in front of you, crumbling on impact. 

You turned your head toward Dean. “Thanks.” You knew he had lit the corpse on fire while the doctor was distracted with you.

“Don’t mention it.”

You turned to the sound of Sam moaning from a distance away.

“You're not going to try and kill us, are ya?” Dean asked him.

Sam flexed his jaw painfully. “No.”

“Good. Because that would be awkward.”

After the three of you bid goodbye to Gavin and Kat, you were on the road again.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam said.

His brother turned to face him.

“I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there.”

Dean’s tone was guarded. “You remember all that?”

“Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it,” Sam told him. 

The older brother didn’t sound convinced. “You didn't, huh?”

“Dean—” you started.

Sam cut you off. “No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?”

Dean turned his attention back to the road. “No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Ditto,” you mumbled, stretching out over the backseat. 

Soon enough, you and the boys arrived back in your respective motel rooms. You’d decided to get some shut-eye before heading out to your next adventure. You awoke hours later to the sound of your cell phone ringing. You picked it up, not recognizing the number at all. 

You shot straight up at the sound of the man’s introduction. “John?!”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey

Quite a few tags were broken; sorry lovebugs! :(

[mediocre-daydreams]

Hiya! Could I request 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 for marauders era?

I'm a indian bisexual female, she/they. I'm fairly extroverted, though some times it may take me a while to warm up to people, however I'm pretty crazy an quite unhinged when you get to know me well. However I do have moments when I just wanna plug my earphones in and not talk to anyone, especially when im stressed and anxious. I love reading, though I don't read as much as I would like to, due to school and stuff. I adore banter, joking around and having deep coversations about literally anything. I love helping people out, and my friends come to me to vent. And on the topic of friends, I adore them and I'm also incredibly loyal. I tend to daydream quite a lot as well. Many people would tend to describe me outspoken about a lot of things, mainly politics and world issues. I love debating and arguing, its my main pastime tbh. I also adore science, mainly biology and chemistry. I'm not that creative, I can sing and I just started learning guitar, after years of convincing my parents. I adore rock and pop music, though I also love classical music. I mainly listen to Maneskin, Taylor Swift, the nbhd, artic monkeys, and chase atlantic. I'm 18, 5'3 and I have tanned skin, shoulder length black hair. Clothing wise, my aesthetic is a mix of downtown girl, rockstar gf and dark feminine. I'm an aries and a mix gryffindor and slytherin.

Sorry if its a lot, irdk how much to write, since its my first time doing something like this. Ahhh ilysm and you're writing is heavenset btw.

hey! super cool to see a fellow asian on here <33 i feel like we have so much in common we should be besties (wanna be an emoji anon??) also- i'm headcannoning james here as reiky de valk

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

i was so torn between james and sirius that i'm gonna slap the three of you into a sadistic, slightly angsty love triangle.

you and desi! james are fast friends. all those traits he loves in sirius? he finds them in you. you’re outspoken, loyal, and a little stubborn. james is admittedly a very sheltered kid. he grew up as an old money pureblood family in a mcmansion-esque house in godric’s hollow, so there was nothing, in particular, drawing him to politics. meeting you was like jumping off a diving board into the middle of the black lake when he’d been wading in shallow waters his entire life. there was so much more to the world than quidditch, house pride, and mischievous escapades.

you never treated him lesser than for not growing up politically fluent or sheltered. it wasn’t like he wanted to be sheltered. his entire life, people reduced him to his looks and his status and the model of his broomstick. as much as he loved his friends, nobody took him as seriously as you did. he was the one taking care of remus and sirius and peter, but you were there to listen to all his thoughts and stay up at night philosophizing about war and the future and the dangers of blood purity that young people shouldn’t really have to be worrying about.

you and EA! sirius are drawn to each other like magnets. you’re similar, more than just the way you dress and the sort of music you listen to. music is super important to sirius; he listens to his favorite records when he’s back at grimmauld place to block out the sound of his family, and listening to rock instead of snooty classical a form of rebellious self expression for him. he loves when you share your songs with him. being a pureblood, it’s hard for him to get his hands on muggle music, so exploring new genres and having quiet jam sessions with you is one of the only times he feels normal.

there aren’t many people who sirius feels can understand him. you’re culturally competent and opinionated, and you never invalidate his anger and intense feelings toward his parents and their beliefs. you’ve never once told him to calm down or that he was overreacting. in fact, you showed him ways to channel his anger more productively. 

you, james, and sirius are an inseparable trio, but that’s the formula for the most heartbreaking type of love triangle. all three of you are acutely aware of the dynamic, though none of you are eager to address it. the three of you value each other as friends too much to lose each other to a relationship that may or may not be guaranteed. war looms close and stakes are high. 

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Patricia Highsmith: The problem of good art made by bad people

No writer would ever betray his secret life. It would be like standing naked in public.

- Patricia Highsmith, the novelist writing to a friend in 1940

Patricia Highsmith, who died in 1995 having written a series of psychological thrillers, including The Talented Mr Ripley and Strangers on a Train and the romance The Price of Salt, left two sets of diaries hidden in a linen closet in her home in Ticino, Switzerland.

In one she recorded details about her professional life: plot ideas, philosophical musings and thoughts on writing. In the other she documented her private reflections and memories, including a single sexual encounter with the writer Arthur Koestler (a “miserable, joyless episode”) and her efforts, through psychotherapy, to “get myself into a condition to be married”.

She had no more compassion for men than she did for women. In one entry Highsmith writes that “the American male does not know what to do with a girl once he has her. He is not really depressed or inhibited by his inherited or environmentally conceived Puritan restraints: he simply has no goal within the sexual situation”.

Highsmith’s diaries, which run to more than 8,000 pages, have been pored over by biographers, but have never before been made public, or in this case interwoven into a single narrative of the life of a complex woman who thought deeply about themes of good and evil, loneliness and intimacy.

It was in her diary that she described becoming sexually obsessed with a customer at Bloomingdale’s in New York, whom she later followed to her home, provoking observations about murder and love.

She had an obsession about detailing absolutely everything in her life, very much like Sylvia Plath. And she drew on the diaries for her novels, which explore the notion of obsession, guilt and murder, and reject rationality and logic for the darker elements of human personality.” Dubbed “the poet of apprehension“ by the novelist Graham Greene, who said she “created a world without moral endings … Nothing is certain when we have crossed this frontier”, the Texas-born Highsmith was deeply influenced by European existentialists such as Albert Camus and Søren Kierkegaard, and those influences are deeply felt in her diaries.

She was a lesbian who hated women, totally politically incorrect in lots of ways, and certainly not a poster girl for the feminist movement. She hated blacks, Jews, men, and women. A sort of equal opportunities hater then. In mitigation Highsmith was self aware of her own beliefs and it mortified her and was a source of constant anxiety. She herself was fighting many demons including her mother’s rejection, an attempted seduction by her father as a child, and being sexually abused by two travelling salesmen. She had a tough life.

But there is a question over how far Highsmith can now be assimilated into contemporary culture of ‘wokeness’ and ‘MeToo’.

There is no question in person she could be a monstrous, violent and quite unpleasant woman. Knowing about her life and views could for some make it difficult to read her works. But for all that I think the diaries’ publication could help to again reveal that, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts.

These same highly culturally charged debates raged around the controversial French writer Celine in France. In Germany Wagner continues to be a touchy issue. Or back again in France, the recent controversy at the Césars where many people walked out as child minor rapist Roman Polanski was honoured for his latest film.

Going further back Gaugin was a pedophile. Degas was an anti-Semite. Caravaggio killed a man. Where do you draw the line? When do you draw the line?

Some argue art cannot be good or evil. Only the artist can. What he/she presents as art is a different dimension of thinking and somehow not really representative of the artist. I’m not entirely convinced by that argument. If only because great art is never transmitted through an empty vessel but is actively germinated through the life experiences of the artist. But also more importantly most artists don’t separate themselves from their art as they are convinced their art comes from the deepest depths of their being.

We don’t have to be puritans to acknowledge that some henious actions deserve more consideration than historically allotted to a consideration of the artist and his/her works.

But those who are ‘woke’ liberal left activists arguably seem to be advocating a one size that fits all approach. There is no wriggle room for discourse correction or allowing nuance to inform the conversation. And I use the word ‘conversation’ deliberately because such things are nearly always being worked out in real time and also each one of us ascribe different values to different things e.g. Picasso cheats on his lovers and so I don’t like his art, whilst others would say, so what? Grow up. There is a serious slippery slope that if you eliminate the bad artist and writer from the canon and you might as well eliminate art and literature itself. And that’s where we might well end up.

I believe that adjusting personal behaviour seems much easier than enforcing an interpretative cultural lens on a shifting audience and telling them this is how you should enjoy art.

I personally believe it’s a matter of personal conscience and conviction. If you’ve really searched your heart, and found that a piece of art is just that important to you, as many people do without admitting it out loud, then it should be fine to engage with it. But the imperative now is to privately think about why it matters to you. If I can justify that to myself then yes, I will go ahead and ‘enjoy’ that piece of art regardless of how much of a shit the artist was or is.

To me it’s not a question of compartmentalising, of ignoring or suspending my disgust with an artist's personal behaviour so as to concentrate on the art. I'm watching and reading because I expect art to be about moral dangers in a way that is less didactic than essays are. I expect art to be troubling because I expect people to be troubling. I am prepared to like and dislike something in every work. I can also appreciate the aesthetic genius of a moral monster without feeling that I am becoming inured to monstrosity.

For this reason when I for example look at  Benvenuto Cellini, creator of Perseus With the Head of Medusa, was a murderer and a rapist. He killed at least two men and was accused by a model of sexually assaulting her. This does not stop me from looking with great amazement and curiosity at the naked and sexual Perseus With the Head of the Medusa. The knowledge of the immorality of the creator does not distract from my enjoyment of his creation; indeed I am made even more curious to know how beauty is perceived by a violently troubled man.

In the end for me, and I can only speak for myself, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts. Nietzsche said, “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” I like that.

A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To the artist, to paraphrase Pearl S. Buck, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this a cruel overpowering necessity to create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. 

In Patricia Highsmith’s case it’s revealing she said once in a sly backhanded way, “My New Year’s Eve Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace.” A true great artist never know really knows peace or contentment for this is the price of creation. The intensity of personal turmoil is the fuel of their creativity.

The Greeks may have believed that they had “muses��� whispering ideas in their ears. Or that the Romans believed they wrote with their “genius”. But I suspect the best artists are those that are in touch with and confront their humanity, at their best and at their worst.

[ariesjupiter]

Event Astrology: Creation of Tumblr 💫

Since it’s Pisces season and Tumblr’s Birthday is tomorrow, Feb 19th, I wanted to talk about the astrology of this website! First of all, there’s a huge Pisces and 10th house stellium. Pisces deals with spirituality, dreams, imagination, creativity, and empathy. The tenth house deals with public persona, how you’re seen online, power, contribution to society, and overall reputation, especially when it comes to your career. This combination means that tumblr is known for being creative and a place where romanticization of life happens, at least many blogs and posts have that dreamy feel. Even though there aren’t any planets in the 12th house, I’d argue Pisces is also associated with solitude & being alone. Going on tumblr feels so different from typical social media. It feels detached & disconnected from other popular apps. To me it feels comforting and a place where you can express your interests without feeling the need to show off your personal life. That’s how I see Pisces. Ok, now let’s dive in.

Pisces Sun in the 10th House: This placement explains why Tumblr is known as a space where people share their art. A real person with this placement would be known for being a talented artist. There is a need to distinguish from others in the public eye here. 10th house sun suggests a hard worker. A lot of people on tumblr put in a lot of time and work into crafting their blogs and managing their account. The mixture of Pisces and the 10th house here indicates a large amount of wisdom. You can find lots of serious, emotional posts on here with lessons, inspiration, and pieces of advice. Compared to other social media sites, Tumblr is a quiet and behind the scenes yet still very established and well known.

Pisces Moon in the 10th House: People with this moon placement usually have a need to escape. Tumblr feels like a safe way to escape from reality for a while. As previously mentioned, Tumblr (the people on it) is known for romanticizing daily life and the little mundane things. Aesthetics and pretty things matter. It’s still somewhat seen today but years ago there was a huge, collective emo phase with a strong connection to musical artists who wrote emotional songs. I think this placement contributes to the site being misunderstood. There’s more than what meets the eye/what you’ve heard about it. There is an emotional need for recognition and achievement here. That makes sense for any social media.

Pisces Mercury in 10th House: Here there is a silly and some may say odd overall type of humor on Tumblr. Mercury being in the 10th means they may be criticized publicly for the way they think and how they express their thoughts. This placement is concerned with bettering themselves. They want to be remembered for being a good communicator and a knowledgeable person who achieved many things.

Pisces Venus in 10th House: Again, all the Pisces themes of the arts, spiritual realm, and romance are heightened here in the planet of love and the public 10th house. Open minded and find it easy to love people, places, and things. Pisces venus could typically have a tendency to idolize people to a great extent but being in the 10th house there is an added layer of realism and detachment. Even though it’s in the 10th house, Pisces venus aren’t attracted to money and material wealth. There is a widely accepted notion going around on Tumblr recently that celebrity culture can be toxic and there is a dislike of rich people. Pisces venus people especially value genuinely kind people who are giving and have strong morals.

Capricorn Mars in the 8th House: There is something mysterious about this placement. They value privacy. This makes sense with the ability to hide or display your likes and who you’re following. Also connects to how tumblr doesn’t show other people your follower count. Psychology and spirituality are two interests this placement would gravitate towards. I didn’t want to have to go there but this placement just makes a lot of sense for when there used to be........you know, .... available on Tumblr. I’ll leave it at that.

Sagittarius Jupiter in the 6th House: I read on Astrohealer.com that the 6th house is associated with your early twenties and therefore ideological formation. Due to all the discourse on here, whether you’d like to admit it or not, you might have found something you believe in here. Sagittarius is naturally philosophical and loves to travel and learn. This placement makes sense for the amount of langblrs, studyblrs, and astroblrs that are on tumblr. This placement attracts good luck/good fortune when they’re helping and educating others. I think this is something Tumblr is known for. Also Jupiter being in the same sign as Pluto, there could be a tendency to push your beliefs on to someone and cause controversy. People with Jupiter in the 6th house though are able to be critical and decide for themselves what they find right and wrong and they will voice that. This is also a great placement for writers. This site is also known for having some really long posts (uh...kind of like this one now.)

Leo Saturn in the 3rd House: This placement shows someone that denies their desire to be in the spotlight or show off. You dislike authority & believe everyone should be in charge of themselves. There’s a mixture of being proud yet insecure here. People with this placement could have back issues. I know it’s a common thing, but so many people on here write posts about their back hurting even at a young age, so I think that’s interesting. 3rd house means you could be outspoken and you take your time to pay attention to your surroundings.

Pisces Uranus in the 10th House: Natural dreamers who find unique ways to solve problems. Uranus being in the 10th house means they’re known for being quirky and inventive. There is a deep desire to help humanity here. I’ve seen that over the years on tumblr.

Aquarius Neptune in the 9th House: A person/place where big goals and dreams are put into action. They may not always be the most realistic though. A creative teacher and a placement that’s open to new or seemingly unusual ideas.

Sagittarius Pluto in the 7th House: Philosophy is a natural topic of interest here. A passion for talking about how beliefs change as well. A placement that truly wants to change the world for the better. This is a true mediator placement. Since the 7th house is an air house, it’s naturally logical and engaging in debates and discourse is transformational. it’s the house of relationships. maybe you made meaningful friendships on tumblr that changed your life/your outlook on life.

Gemini Rising: Obviously I don’t know the exact time of creation, but this makes sense. Gemini rising is known for having lots of interests and having a love of engaging in discussions with people. Tumblr is known for it’s different ‘sides’ (various blog communities/interests) and having various phases through time. Gemini rising is always evolving. Also there’s multiple functions on tumblr whereas the main goal of say, Snapchat, is to send pictures to your friends or story which eventually goes away.

Aquarius 10th House/Midheaven: I knew there had to be a major Aqua placement. Unique creators who come up with new and exciting ideas and content. True trend setters. Tumblr has always been years ahead of its time compared to other social media site users in terms of musicians who get popular, fashion and clothing trends, specific discourse topics, and even the creation of certain popular aesthetics. Aquarius is associated with friendships and the collective. As opposed to Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook where most of your friends/followers are people you know, Tumblr is all about following people you’ve (chances are) never met irl. Aquarius is associated with computers, humanity, and nonconformity.

Let me know if there’s any recommendations you’d like to see for an event analysis. Feel free to share your thoughts on whether you agree or disagree with things I said in this interpretation. I find it really interesting to look at charts of when bands were founded, when something was discovered etc. Hopefully this wasn’t too repetitive. Maybe I’ll try to add some aspect interpretations next time

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi again, sorry to bother you.

I submitted this post because I have a few questions (I was typed ISFP 9w1).

I have doubts about Fi-Te.

▪Fe/Fi :

I mean, When I read Fi and Fe descriptions, I relate to low Fe better. I need your view on that.

I relate to the chamelion effect that is often associated with Fe.

Unlike Fi-doms who behave the same everywhere, my behavior changes from group/person to group/person, and the group dynamic and atmosphere indirectly affects me and my performance. <- 9 does this, also 3 fixers do this.

I’m usually reserved when alone, but with energetic people/groups I become more energetic, smile more and check myself less and get comfortable. While if I go into serious or cold groups, I become like that. And If I get uncomfortable vibes from a group, I may get uncomfortable as well, or I might think my presence is not desired or not important, so I try to minimize my interaction with that group. I try not to force myself upon people even though  feeling excluded seriously bothers me. <-- mirroring the group this much again, suggests 9 (and 3?); you are deliberately avoiding conflict through changing to fit the group.

It’s like I have no specific personality or characteristics. I explain my personality with doubt but try to include all functions. I envy people who maintain the same personality and energy-level with everyone or stand up and rebel against things they don’t agree with even when they’re alone. <-- 963 or 936 tritype confirmed

On the other hand, I try to maintain the group harmony and not bother others even when I internally have problem with something or don’t agree with them. I don’t rebel against the majority unless I have no other choice. <- 9 core

I assume being liked or appreciated by others matters to me a lot. As a kid and teen, I acted on this need (indirectly) by getting good grades or doing my homework and being nice to teachers. I wasn’t aware of it much. As I grew up, I became more dependent on other people, their vibe, their motivation or inner thoughts and their views. I miss my teen years because of that. <- numbing out and ignoring things as a teen? again, 9

I am not social expert. I suck at manipulating others or changing the group dynamics. I can’t “MAKE” people think/do something. I can’t stand my ground really well. I don’t even know how to comfort people. <- sounds like Fi-dom, not Fe

My view on good or bad is also relative. I can say pros & cons for things and I rarely view something as pure good or pure bad (It happens but it’s rare).<- Fi-dom has more nuance, is willing to give more benefit of the doubt, and is not as quick to judge people as Fe, since... well, Fi is subjective, ruminating, and inward based.

I also have problem defining when I “should” hold my ground and when I should stay back and keep quiet. <- lack of boundary awareness, a 9 issue

I dislike selfish people who boss others, don’t do their share of work in the group or disturb the group harmony by bringing negativity or drama. <- personal assertion of an ethical preference + 9 hatred of drama and negativity

Unlike Fi-dom stereotypes, I try my best to avoid feelings or emotion. So I try my best not to bother others to avoid potentially nasty confrontations. Every type of feeling is toxic and unhealthy to me. I’d rather deal with data, impersonal facts and professional relations than complicated people, drama or feelings. I’d rather be around impersonal, just, uncomplicated and direct people. <- 9 to the max; let’s not be unpleasant, let’s not let in anything that makes me feel uncomfortable, let’s suppress and ignore feelings as much as possible, let’s not hang out with annoying or troublesome people... this is not Fe, this is a 9 refusing to engage with anything that makes them uncomfortable

Fe-like grips for me happen during three situations. a)Failure or being hopeless about major future goals (which I try to avoid), b)Loss of loved ones or being away from them for a long time, c)Feeling excluded or being in a toxic/complecated/dramatic/unjust environment <- the first sounds like inferior Te frustration

Being in grip makes me sensitive, hopeless and paranoid of other peopl’s intentions. I then wish I could have more social skills and more connections/friends. <- Fe envy + 6ish disintegration

In general, I’m not an F expert and try to avoid that realm. But every once in a while, I wish I had more social skills, could open up to people and be cool around them. <- Fi-dom seriousness and detachment from others

________________________________________

▪S/N:

I agree with Se and Ni over their counterparts. I would be witty/argumentative and also more flexible if I had Ne.

But I still have trouble relating to Se, at least the stereotypes.

Sure, I wish I had more action, excitement and novelty in my life, and I might act on it some day (after reaching my professional goals), and I’m a visual/tactile learner and get bored by small details or impractical theories.

But still, I get uncomfortable dealing with the sensory (and social) realm for a long time and get sensory overload. I sometimes have trouble staying in the moment. Not to mention, I’m physically lazy and need someone more willful and energetic to initiate activities at first. And I’m somewhat of a homebody at the moment and bad which makes me relate to Se-aux even less.

Even my interests differ from stereotypical SP ones and look similar to Intuitive interests. I have little interest in watching team sports or car/F1 races on TV. I much prefer to learn about scientific facts, space, other cultures, different countries and their food/drinks and architecture, languages and different philosophical and psychological views and self-help stuffs. I often google things like that.

I do relate to Ni, as I have my goals/plans and, care about them and try to reach them (and would freak out if I couldn’t which means I lack flexibility about them).

Also, last minute changes of plans, or being kept in the dark about future or a project really bothers me. But I agree with you that having a cynical Ni might mean its position is not dom. Also, I’m not good at things like chess (find it boring), decision-making or guessing test questions (stereotypical Ni stuffs)

Based on the new info I added, Am I still Se-Ni?

... those are a lot of negative stereotypes about ISPs. An SP can sit at home on their butt and watch television all day long and never do anything creative with their hands, it does not disqualify them from being Se. An SP can be an avid reader and love learning about all kinds of things, it does not make them an intuitive. An ISP prefers to have a general idea of what they want and think before they act, it doesn’t make them an INJ. Basically, none of what you said disqualifies you from being an ISFP. I would look at Ne vs Se if you are still not sure, but I’m still seeing IFP 9.

________________________________________

▪T :

I do brainstorm things and read between the lines in my head. But I have little interest in sharing them with people or debating with people. Maybe I don’t debate much because of shyness. I also need time processing and analyzing the things being said, so I rarely challenge someone. <-- introvert, not a thinker tendency; high Ti knows what’s irrational without needing to process it, and will react accordingly by pointing out the illogical statement.

I’m more cynical than positive. If I doubt the truth of something or an statement or a program, I analyze and research about it if needed. I sometimes I argue with my family members or debate about social stuffs, taboo stuffs or some other stuffs. specially when I think what they think/believe is irrational. But I rarely target them directly or attack them about it, unless I know they’re thick-skinned and don’t make a big deal out of it. Also, I dislike it when people change a friendly debate into aggressive personal attacks. <- 9 avoidance of conflict / confrontation

When debating with my family, I use a mixture of facts and brainstorming results as debating tools. But In general I trust proven facts more than personal analysis and specially at school, I used to dislike too much theory, analysis and details. <- proven facts = Te, hatred of theory = Se/Ni

What makes me doubt being a thinker (or even a F-dom)? The fact that I rely on other people to describe myself and my self-worth. And the fact that A toxic atmosphere or exclusion can have impact on my mental health and performance. Also, my shyness and lack of assertiveness in social stuffs and being conflict-averse and fearing confrontations.

I think ISFP 9 is correct. Most of what you describe, as you’ve seen is simply being a 9, and you don’t have the kind of strong knowledge of Te/Ti that an ISTP or TJ would have.

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Poetry

Thanks for reading!! It means so much to me! Feel free to reach out for anything! The poem is not mine!

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 2,200

Summary: You find ancient poetry interesting. Bucky finds you interesting.

Warnings: Maybe angst but not really?

A/N: I found this poem on tumblr years ago so I don’t know the source but if you do please reach out!

...

Studying Ancient Greece and Rome had obviously been around since – well, since they were around, you supposed. The philosophy itself had always been intriguing to you: from Plato and Aristotle to Cicero and Marcus Aurelius. Its fascinating to know that these philosophers had originated some of the most widely accepted yet widely debated topic of mankind – or, at least they wrote them down first. And while Homer, Ovid, and Virgil may not be the easiest publications to read, you couldn’t help but immerse yourself in these works as if only to understand why they’re so popular and important.

You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a nerd, despite what Sam Wilson might playfully argue, but you did enjoy the occasional novel or documentary; that’s what drew James Barnes to you in the first place. Maybe it was the fact you were an absolute sponge for information. It didn’t even have to be related to the aforementioned history or philosophy; if someone was teaching it, you were definitely going to be there learning it. However, your fascination for ancient culture is what piqued his interest in you.

As previously established, the study of ancient civilization had, in fact, been around since forever. But it was something generally reserved for those who could – for lack of a better word – afford to study it: it was a rich man’s subject; for those who could afford to spend their time studying such subjects that would not earn them much income. But while school wasn’t necessarily a challenge for Bucky, it surely wasn’t that heavily emphasized. Hell, back in the day, only about 50% of kids even graduated high school, let alone attend college. And with the war going on? Forget about it. It was already expected that he’d graduate school and go on to work to earn a living. He couldn’t afford college, nor did he have the time for it. Once he was of age, Bucky was expected to work. Things changed with the war; expectations pointed to the Army.

Leaving all that in the past, Bucky turned to you to help him acclimate to his new life. Upon his return to civilization, he was met with Sam: “witty” (his word, not Bucky’s) and nonstop chatterbox, Steve: more serious than Bucky had remembered from one-hundred years ago, and Tony: don’t get him started. He learned to find that each of the Avengers had their own charming personalities, but they also had their own cliques. Of course, everyone had welcomed Bucky with open arms, but everyone was already a little too friendly with each other to make him feel at home.

Having lost all his charm and charisma long ago, he took solace in your quiet studies. You were new to the Avengers, as well. And while you got on with everyone and considered yourself friends with everyone (even family with some of them), you were a bit too green to be in on all their inside jokes and old-timer stories. As much as Bucky hated seeing you feel out of place, he secretly loved the fact he had someone to bond with about it.

Bucky belly-flopped onto your bed, making your whole body bounce up and down where you were laying on your back on your bed. You set your laptop down beside you and stared at the young man before you. “Whatcha doin,’” he smiles up at you, holding his chin up on his folded knuckles, propped up on his elbows.

“Reading,” you respond, flopping onto your stomach, mimicking his smile and hands. Bucky stared into your eyes for a moment, his smile never faltering. He was barely ever this close to you – close enough that you’re breathing the same air. Your eyes sparkled with the reflection of the candle burning beside you, your cheeks rosy from the warmth in your room and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “And what are you up to, Buck?”

He shrugs, pulling his mouth into a tight line. “I’m bored.”

You roll your eyes playfully, wasn’t he bored everyday? “Nobody to hang out with?” You gently prod.

“I want to hang out with you,” he responds firmly. Was he bothering you? Would you rather have him bother someone else instead of you? You wanted him to leave, right? Panic flooded his system as he began to sit up, preparing himself to leave. He knows how much you loved reading and your alone time. The last thing he wanted was to bother you.

Your heart blossomed momentarily. He wanted to hang out with you? All you did was sit in your room and read. He watched a few shows with you, but he always fell asleep. “What do you want to do?” you mumble.

Another shrug. “What are you reading?”

“Poetry.” His eyes squinted at your one-word answer, so you continue. “You know, rhyming words, short sentences – ”

His chuckles cut you off, his eyes shutting in laughter, bright white teeth grinning as he drops his head forward on the mattress. “I know what poetry is, thanks (Y/N).” He picks his head up. “Why are you reading it on there?” His eyes move to the discarded laptop beside you. “You’ve got all these books.”

And he’s right, your room was lined with bookshelves, most works read, although you couldn’t bring yourself to start up on some of the more daunting longer novels. This time, it was your turn to shrug. “Sometimes its nice to read something short and sweet. Y’know, so it’s not dragging on forever.”

He nods, still eyeing your bookshelves. “Any of these any good?” He almost grimaces, noticing the long novels with matching sequels.

You fake gasp. “Bucky, they’re only the most important works in literary history.” You hop up off your spot on the bed, leaving behind your blankets and Bucky. “Here, since your so bored.” You plucked Homer’s The Iliad off your shelf, tossing it on the bed beside him. His eyebrows were drawn together at the book sitting beside him. “They make kids read it in high school nowadays – I’m sure you can handle it.”

With that, you plop yourself back onto your bed, picking up your laptop, and continuing your reading on your laptop. Buck grabs the book from beside him and opens it to the first page, trying not to crease the perfect spine. He almost wonders how you don’t notice him staring at you instead of the book. He admired your intelligence but also your looks. He doesn’t think he could ever  grow tired of looking at you: the way that your eyebrows furrowed in concentration when you read, the soft tug of your bottom lip between your teeth as you anticipated the ending.

Every time you glanced towards Bucky; he brought his eyes back down to the page. He must be having a hard time with that – he’s been on the first page for ages.

It was hard to focus on reading with him next to you – hell, not that you were complaining. His breathing was so calm and perfectly timed. His head was turned down towards the book, but while the rest of his body only moved in synch with his breathing, his hair kept falling from where it was tucked haphazardly behind his ear. He wasn’t frustrated about it (you, on the other hand, would’ve thrown your hair into a bun while threatening yourself to shave all your hair off). His lips were almost always red, and it constantly consumed your thoughts. Did he bite his lips a lot, were they constantly chapped? They don’t look chapped; maybe he just drank a fruit punch, so they were always stained red. You were dying to find out the reason, if only by the feel of your own lips on his.

He could feel your eyes on him; your body ever so slightly shifts and your breathing changes. He bit his lip, still struggling on this first page. His mid was racing elsewhere. He was a trained assassin: he could combine factors of wind, speed, humidity, distance, altitude, and spindrift in goddamn ballistics physics all in his head just to shoot one person. He could speak a million different languages – he actually couldn’t count how many he knows. (He could definitely read the original Divine Comedy in old-school Italian, unlike the translated version that sat across the room on your shelf). Sure, he was highly intelligent, but damn this book was boring.

“I can’t do this one,” he huffed suddenly, shutting the book in front of him. He (over)dramatically rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He then peers up at you with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s hard.”

“It is a tough one, but I thought you could take it,” you respond casually, a smirk forming on your lips. And what Bucky wouldn’t do to have his lips on top of yours at that moment…

With a roll of his eyes, he nudges his way next to you and under the blankets you’ve re-snuggled up in. His cheek was burning into your arm, his metal arm laid loosely over your lap in a half-hug. “How’s the poetry going? Why are you reading it online?”

“It’s good,” you breath shakily. Who knew having him this close to you would actually make your heart leap out of your chest? God and you just knew that he could feel it, too. “It’s just poems people wrote online. Not really published officially, but it’s still really good. ‘S about mythology; the gods and myths and stuff.”

“Can you read me some?” He closed his eyes, nuzzling his nose into your shirt, pulling the blanket farther around him.

You peer down at him, using all your willpower to not stroke that one strand of hair out of his face. You scroll back up to what you were reading, and your mouth suddenly goes dry. You start softly, so softly that you’re not even sure he can hear you.

“Hero,” they’d whisper as the young boy walks by.

“Hero,” they’d cheer and the young boy wonders why.

Why was I picked for this life full of glory?

Why must tragedy be the end of my story?

I want to be a hero but I want happiness too.

And heroes may win the war but they rarely live through.

You know what – fuck it – you bring your hand up to his forehead and ever so slightly brush your fingertips against his skin, pulling the soft brown hair along to the side with you. He’s breathing slowly, but once you touch him his eyes open. Not a single other muscle has moved, he remained completely still.

And it resonates with Bucky – obviously it resonates with Bucky. He didn’t know much about Greek mythology but knew enough to recall the bloody battles and ruthless victories of the myths. “Who is that about?” He asked.

You. “Achilles,” you whispered, hand not moving from cradling the side of his face. His eyebrows were drawn together, crinkles forming around his eyes and bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

He just lays there, replaying the words in his head. Was his life a Greek tragedy? Was he Achilles? His life was already a tragedy. His life was now full of glory – at least that’s what Steve made it sound like. He had a terrible past, sure, but now he was destined to be this great new Avenger. Bucky would scoff if he wasn’t so focused on laying in your arms.

Does anyone think of him as a hero? Can they really forgive him for all his past atrocities? Like Achilles, Bucky finds himself questioning others calling him that. They can call him a hero but at what cost? What did it cost Bucky? His life, his family, friends; his body, his mind; his thoughts, his freedom?

He won the war – he’s free now. Is all of him really dead inside? Is there any human part of him left to be a hero?

The dragging of your knuckles against his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts. But that’s when he realized he is not the tragedy. You were.

The thought of losing you would be his tragedy. Just like Achilles losing Patroclus: the love of his life.

That’s when Bucky grabbed your hand in his – metal that was cool to the touch, in contrast with your warm skin. He whispered your name into your open palm that he pressed against his lips. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, quickly, without thinking – without stopping to think about what a bad idea this probably was – he slid a hand behind your neck and pulled your lips to his. You gasped against his lips and right when he was about to pull away and leave with his tail tucked between his legs, you pressed your lips into his. He simply held you there, one long continuous kiss, time frozen between the two of you.

He parted from you to suck in a deep breath, slowly releasing a sigh from between his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Bucky,” you sighed, eyes still shut, blindly tilting your head forward searching for his lips, searching for another kiss (to which he obviously obliged). With a few more chaste kisses, you laughed against his lips. “Took you long enough.” And to this, he grinned against you, pulling away just far enough for you to see his blue eyes glazed over with joy. And for the record, Bucky Barnes definitely did not have chapped lips.

[sinnergism]

The next chapter of Coffee & Cigarettes is going to be Ciel's pov-- could we please have a tasty little taste? 👀

Of course, my dear!! <3 <3 Have a little excerpt from the upcoming chapter 4. -- They'd argued over every detail of the lessons, at first. How long they spent debating each lesson. What ideas they would cover. The contents of Ciel's reading assignments.  That last one had been settled only at the end of a very long debate. Ciel had questioned why he was expected not to read only a philosopher's main works but also his irrelevant and frequently maudlin epistemological correspondences with friends, mentors and lovers. Sebastian had only given him a thin smile and said, "Because nothing -- no thought, no man, and certainly no tightly interwoven worldview that entrenched a human being -- lives in a vacuum.” And so Ciel had not just learned about philosophy but about history and linguistics and cultural peculiarities, as well.  He’d learned to recognize them as a variety of threads that stitched thought to reality. And Sebastian had been right. As he had been about many things.  Ever since they had settled the exact rules and standards, Ciel had been ready to admonish him, of course. If he ever forgot to dress well. If he were ever late. If he ever came ill-prepared.  If he ever neglected to consider Ciel's arguments fully.  But he never did. His lessons were well-planned. Interesting. At once pleasing and disturbing, just as any serious inquiry into the nature of reality should be. Impeccable. Beyond reproach. And that should make Ciel happy, of course it should. It was just as he had wanted. Of course. He'd hired Sebastian to do exactly the things that he was doing. Yet his presence frequently irritated Ciel. Needled at him. Pricked him, somewhere deep, with something nameless but gut-wrenching that told that something was wrong. The man was a walking contradiction. He moved as if he were made of water: there was a flow to his every movement, the long, smooth sweeps of them. This way of shrugging languidly that was like waves rolling off of his shoulders.  But his eyes were like fire. Something when Ciel looked at them, he could see something crackle in them, dark and quick like a charred wisp in a fireplace.  And his smiles. There were so many of them: small, polite ones. Perfectly calibrated to the right altitude. And quick, unexpected ones, ones that twisted his mouth into a feline curve. And secretive ones, ones that barely pulled at the corners but made his eyes shine with something foreign, something… Ciel shook his head. The man was much like philosophy itself. Hard to understand, contradictory. Quite possibly an exercise in futility. -- Read Coffee & Cigarettes here <3 Thank you so much for your ongoing support!!

[sunritual]

Let’s try this again

They should make a law where if the police don’t read you your Miranda rights you get out of jail free, like if you don’t get your receipt at fast food restaurants you get a mail free

The shaggy law - There should be a law that if you continuously and shamelessly deny doing something, no matter how indisputably obvious it is that you did it, you should get off free for pure savegery.

Confederates as “rebels for tradition” is laughable

Ram rainbow spiral horns profile.

People think grammar rules are etched into the universe — they’re not. When people say AAve is incorrect and ignorant, they say that their conception of how one should speak is inherently correct despite no evidence/truth. Grammar is agreed upon not mandated

Hippie sauce infusion pizza joint

Plain nude balconette with little purple and pink flowers at wiring

How could anyone predict anything happening but how could any be surpised either

Hierarchies - nahhhh

Humans aren’t inherently higher than any other creature or thing, but as humans i don’t think it’s wrong to prioritize other humans. There no better or worse but there is optimal for certain environments and lifestyles.

What differentiates a piece of art from a slightly different replica - when is it an entirely different piece altogether? Moving a figure slightly? Adding a splash of paint ? Changing a color to the point where no one could tell? Is the persons perception the deciding factor or what’s actually on the canvas. If abstract art is about the perception, and the waning behind it - does it change with these things?

An exhibit where people are invited to paint over and destroy or change the art

The differences between us and other. Are feeble - not illusory but

Periwinkle sky blue black and white each of a half circle . Faded out

Uni should be about exploring ideas — new and old famillar and foreign - honeing writing reading reasoning debating listening etc skills.

Umm, Karen were your parents married when you were born?

Ummmm no, umm i mean , uh ,yes —what??

Then why are you policing what other people do?

Dark blue light blue orange lemon circles layer on top of each other, several difffent sizes

Job apps tip!! For every job you apply to , Change your last name on your resume to the last name of the hiring manager and they will think you are related to them and hire you with nepotism. ( then, or coarse, legally when you get the job)

Unpopular opinion: i don’t really mind diarrhea

I for one think it’s incredibly brave of the brats girls to reclaim such a derogatory term

Starting every Describtion of every British show with “its kind of like skins but..”

Beanie baskin took that treat she snatched it - she ain’t even askin

The squad bod - a group of ghost friends share one body in which they have to live their lives -

My playlists are a matter of fact, not opinion. They reveal truths about the human experience

A cats gorilla imeritive of aesthetics.

I don’t chose them, they are not for joy but for truth. They are not intelligible but feel able

📝 narrative - longing

👼 chaotic

🌾 childlike wonder

Things that seem homo and phobic ATST

- Woodstock

- Brown eyed girl

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on ya when you think everything BG a gone wrong and everything bows up in your face

If women can’t do drag because they have an advantage then what is drag? Is it having good looking tits and a waist ? Looking like woman? or is it about having charisma uniqueness nerve and talent?

Examining Tik toks through different philosophical lenses

What makes it so they put parenthesis around lyrics in a song? What intonations and such make it parenthesis worthy

What’s an article of clothing from your childhood that you viscerally remember for seemingly no reason

I feel like the problem with the property brothers is they had too good of a childhood

Do you ever wonder if personality traits would be diffferntnin different cultures? Would a quiet person be even quieter if they were brought up in North Korea? Or the same amount of talkativity? Do we have the traits no matter what, or are we inclined to be more of one way than the others around us. Are personality traits created by comparison to those around?

Maybe the anxiety comes from knowing your not “supposed” to be as quiet as you are. You don’t really want to talk, that’s okay , but it’s expected that you do. So you are anxiety that your not living up

I find happiness every single day

This feeling has made me so appreciative of my mental state usually. How many people feel like this on the regular? How many people have this as their default? I am so lucky. My default is happy. I have my issues, but i need to appreciate the gift i was given. I was given elation. Childlike wonder. Curiosity. Adventurousness. Self completion and fullness. The rest will come.

If you see a celebrity you want to talk to in public but don’t want to bother them, make sure they don’t see that you saw them and start a fake conversation telling a friend that they should buy a product they are a sponsor for, and that they should use their coupon code. When they approach you to thank you for being such a loyal fan, obviously pretend to be shocked that they just so happened to be there

Christianity excuses selfish politics and beliefs

Things i never would’ve noticed if they weren’t pointed out to me:

-Left and right handed ness

Rating sports teams by uniform colors

Balloon animals but make it clothing!

Logics doesn’t care about your feelings, but it certainly cares about your biasees.

He who findeth keepith, whilst he who loosith weepith.

Religious thought often starts at the conclusion they want and attempts to make arguments justifying it.

Jewish debate starts with an agreement that we are going to follow the book, but argues about what the book truly says. Not good enough when you are still just following the book

Why did Jesus need to die for our sins

Dream - swimming in a lake and bump into something you think is a human tying to save to but is it! Oct 29 9:03

Candle company logo etc

I’m sorry for your loss

It’s not oka

If people can accept that stupid bad jokes can be

Is there a reason for each thing existing? Sufficient reason

Understanding if an area is a matter of perspective or fact? Is it Emperical ?

If you assume you have free will you limit your critical thinking ability and therefor stour actual free will - you need to navigate technology such as algorithms that show you why at you want to see or you completely loose free will - you cannot chose when you don’t even know a choice. there is Somthing controlling you

Revelation is within it doesn’t involve others - can happen in a moment

Revolution- requires work and years and years of convincing others m

What counts as a second chance? What counts as a first chance? What does giving someone the benefit of the doubt entail ? Letting them out of jail , or letting them have a 2nd term as president.

**Picture of coke or Pepsi book**

Trump supporters be like: THIS is the BALLOt sleepy crooked joe SEND to MY neighbor. So much FOR democracy

One flew over the coup coups nest

Ashge-nazi = Jewish trump supporter

The heathers of the USA are Cali, New York and Texas. Florida, too

Shape shifting would solve all of this. I could go to Washington DC, pretend to be trump, concede then leave. It would be hilarious, however if me and trump looked identical and had to so the most idiotic crazy shit to prove to America that we indeed are the true DJ.

Coup busting outfit - light cute short sleeve camo shirts , army green super utalitarian cargo pants , double sash belts in leather with grommets studs or spikes (to be decided by team (with democracy) or left up to the individual) leather (vegan available) lace up knee high boots (maybe with spikes if not too 2012) and the pies de resistance two army green denim shoulder high gloves that fold down as far as needed for the comfort of the fighter. Will be adorned with patches decided by the wearer. Edges will be frayed to honor to the coup busting aesthetic and spirit of the endeavor. We can decide on a signature lip color, but spf is required for all fighters. Of coarse we will have those football stripes below the eyes, don’t be stupid.

How far away can something be from a face and still have humans think it’s a face

Senator Portman - i hope you are well, and want to thank you for the hard work you have put in to this election. However, it has become abundantly clear that joe Biden and Kamala Harris have secured more than enough electoral and popular votes to warrant recognition as president and vice elect. Upon reading the transcripts of he hopeless court cases, there is absolutely no evidence of vote measurable fraud. is time you stand up for democracy and face reality by congratulating he pair on their success. Americans and scared and they need a powerful republican voice to demounce the unsubstantiated conspircy theories that attempt to thwart democracy in this beautiful county. Please do the right thing , and stand with sanity, freedom and democracy. History books and citizens will thank you. May god bless you, your staff and loved ones

Could mermaids exist through evolution in the future

Me learning about real us history - all the nations destroyed by the USA—- I’m the baaad Guy

The rest of the world - duh dodododosodo

Print that looks like a page of writing that has been sourced in water so it’s bleeding and darker in speckles

Zamps= examples

Clothes with green screen cut outs

Robots don’t need to be sentient to destroy us.

Navy mock neck long sleeves big orange and little white stripe on tube cage sides

A veritcal line stretch waistband

Cross cross and straps back

Square high neck

Scarlet polka dots around can light blue text and beach image as front

Blue stroke red inside square, blue triangle rainbow with eye and funky font

Y either know a particular topic or not , but it’s hard to pin down intelligence on one category

Cream background , ice cream pink script name kinda bev hills hotel script looking ish

Move your mouth in a differ way

Supersonic vibrating butt cleaner

Half magenta half red violet a blue teacup in the center with white floral frills thick serif font

Pink background am orange flower in a vase white present ribbon n red as a table

An app that familiarizes people with science - through experimental learning ― hands on experiences that make it seem less top down and authoritarian , and more like a set of steps that we take, things that anyone can do to get closer with nature and the world

A social media philosophy app - teaches what others said and gives people a chance to express their views , postulate, argue, etc gadfly? How would be avoid a shit show, how can we make social media more humanitarian. how can we care about people while also expressing deeply held ideas , how can we encourage users to examine their deeply held ideas without alienating them. How can we discourage hatred and abuse and groupthink with design? How do we slow people down and encourage them to recognize the human behind the screen. Street epistemology? Socratic dialogue?

Socrates - asking questions. Breaking it down to bits. Deeply understanding their argument. Asking about different possibilities and circumstances. Take vast assumptions and show scenarios that make go against them.

Build fact checking into apps

Narrative self vs experiential

Walks you through steps of the sciefitifc method and encourages you to explain how you feel each step actually helped you- then walks you through a scientist doing the same for their reasarch

Republicans only want to be free in the specific ways that benefit corporations

Are Christians more willing to support the death pen early because they already believe in the cruel and overstepping punishment of hell?

Where did the idea come from that you need to remain impartial when trying to persuade

The idea that there is someone in a similar but different dwelling, hearing similar but different sounds and feeling similar but different feelings is wild

We synthesize sets of traits, and particular actions in a super biased culturally constructed way

With the way we see things as humans- we categorize things into groups that aren’t really reaaal ― paratheletic groups

I just want the people and jobs that benefit society

Connection to nietzsches Dionysian art and eckheart tolle/Taoism

No matter your personality, there is probably a part of the world that you would fit in with naturally.

An ordinary girl is selected as one of the representatives of earth in the first meeting of various alien species after one advanced planet discovered and United 10. Confused as to why she was chosen, she goes on her journey meeting

Wha ba Bada da da da da dada he’s a wha ba ba dadada as a matter of fact it’s not my fault if you came up here thinking that you would win

Wanting to break boundaries and rules for the sake those who are hurt by the rules

You are imagining the best case scenario of the life you want to have and experience Ming the reality of the life you so have.

Yes her drips cosmetics line to students i. Class

Chez it people can goldfish people

Your personality flows where a system needs it to go to maintain balance

[forunfeltimaginations]

Let’s try this again

They should make a law where if the police don’t read you your Miranda rights you get out of jail free, like if you don’t get your receipt at fast food restaurants you get a mail free

The shaggy law - There should be a law that if you continuously and shamelessly deny doing something, no matter how indisputably obvious it is that you did it, you should get off free for pure savegery.

Confederates as “rebels for tradition” is laughable

Ram rainbow spiral horns profile.

People think grammar rules are etched into the universe — they’re not. When people say AAve is incorrect and ignorant, they say that their conception of how one should speak is inherently correct despite no evidence/truth. Grammar is agreed upon not mandated

Hippie sauce infusion pizza joint

Plain nude balconette with little purple and pink flowers at wiring

How could anyone predict anything happening but how could any be surpised either

Hierarchies - nahhhh

Humans aren’t inherently higher than any other creature or thing, but as humans i don’t think it’s wrong to prioritize other humans. There no better or worse but there is optimal for certain environments and lifestyles.

What differentiates a piece of art from a slightly different replica - when is it an entirely different piece altogether? Moving a figure slightly? Adding a splash of paint ? Changing a color to the point where no one could tell? Is the persons perception the deciding factor or what’s actually on the canvas. If abstract art is about the perception, and the waning behind it - does it change with these things?

An exhibit where people are invited to paint over and destroy or change the art

The differences between us and other. Are feeble - not illusory but

Periwinkle sky blue black and white each of a half circle . Faded out

Uni should be about exploring ideas — new and old famillar and foreign - honeing writing reading reasoning debating listening etc skills.

Umm, Karen were your parents married when you were born?

Ummmm no, umm i mean , uh ,yes —what??

Then why are you policing what other people do?

Dark blue light blue orange lemon circles layer on top of each other, several difffent sizes

Job apps tip!! For every job you apply to , Change your last name on your resume to the last name of the hiring manager and they will think you are related to them and hire you with nepotism. ( then, or coarse, legally when you get the job)

Unpopular opinion: i don’t really mind diarrhea

I for one think it’s incredibly brave of the brats girls to reclaim such a derogatory term

Starting every Describtion of every British show with “its kind of like skins but..”

Beanie baskin took that treat she snatched it - she ain’t even askin

The squad bod - a group of ghost friends share one body in which they have to live their lives -

My playlists are a matter of fact, not opinion. They reveal truths about the human experience

A cats gorilla imeritive of aesthetics.

I don’t chose them, they are not for joy but for truth. They are not intelligible but feel able

📝 narrative - longing

👼 chaotic

🌾 childlike wonder

Things that seem homo and phobic ATST

- Woodstock

- Brown eyed girl

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on ya when you think everything BG a gone wrong and everything bows up in your face

If women can’t do drag because they have an advantage then what is drag? Is it having good looking tits and a waist ? Looking like woman? or is it about having charisma uniqueness nerve and talent?

Examining Tik toks through different philosophical lenses

What makes it so they put parenthesis around lyrics in a song? What intonations and such make it parenthesis worthy

What’s an article of clothing from your childhood that you viscerally remember for seemingly no reason

I feel like the problem with the property brothers is they had too good of a childhood

Do you ever wonder if personality traits would be diffferntnin different cultures? Would a quiet person be even quieter if they were brought up in North Korea? Or the same amount of talkativity? Do we have the traits no matter what, or are we inclined to be more of one way than the others around us. Are personality traits created by comparison to those around?

Maybe the anxiety comes from knowing your not “supposed” to be as quiet as you are. You don’t really want to talk, that’s okay , but it’s expected that you do. So you are anxiety that your not living up

I find happiness every single day

This feeling has made me so appreciative of my mental state usually. How many people feel like this on the regular? How many people have this as their default? I am so lucky. My default is happy. I have my issues, but i need to appreciate the gift i was given. I was given elation. Childlike wonder. Curiosity. Adventurousness. Self completion and fullness. The rest will come.

If you see a celebrity you want to talk to in public but don’t want to bother them, make sure they don’t see that you saw them and start a fake conversation telling a friend that they should buy a product they are a sponsor for, and that they should use their coupon code. When they approach you to thank you for being such a loyal fan, obviously pretend to be shocked that they just so happened to be there

Christianity excuses selfish politics and beliefs

Things i never would’ve noticed if they weren’t pointed out to me:

-Left and right handed ness

Rating sports teams by uniform colors

Balloon animals but make it clothing!

Logics doesn’t care about your feelings, but it certainly cares about your biasees.

He who findeth keepith, whilst he who loosith weepith.

Religious thought often starts at the conclusion they want and attempts to make arguments justifying it.

Jewish debate starts with an agreement that we are going to follow the book, but argues about what the book truly says. Not good enough when you are still just following the book

Why did Jesus need to die for our sins

Dream - swimming in a lake and bump into something you think is a human tying to save to but is it! Oct 29 9:03

Candle company logo etc

I’m sorry for your loss

It’s not oka

If people can accept that stupid bad jokes can be

Is there a reason for each thing existing? Sufficient reason

Understanding if an area is a matter of perspective or fact? Is it Emperical ?

If you assume you have free will you limit your critical thinking ability and therefor stour actual free will - you need to navigate technology such as algorithms that show you why at you want to see or you completely loose free will - you cannot chose when you don’t even know a choice. there is Somthing controlling you

Revelation is within it doesn’t involve others - can happen in a moment

Revolution- requires work and years and years of convincing others m

What counts as a second chance? What counts as a first chance? What does giving someone the benefit of the doubt entail ? Letting them out of jail , or letting them have a 2nd term as president.

**Picture of coke or Pepsi book**

Trump supporters be like: THIS is the BALLOt sleepy crooked joe SEND to MY neighbor. So much FOR democracy

One flew over the coup coups nest

Ashge-nazi = Jewish trump supporter

The heathers of the USA are Cali, New York and Texas. Florida, too

Shape shifting would solve all of this. I could go to Washington DC, pretend to be trump, concede then leave. It would be hilarious, however if me and trump looked identical and had to so the most idiotic crazy shit to prove to America that we indeed are the true DJ.

Coup busting outfit - light cute short sleeve camo shirts , army green super utalitarian cargo pants , double sash belts in leather with grommets studs or spikes (to be decided by team (with democracy) or left up to the individual) leather (vegan available) lace up knee high boots (maybe with spikes if not too 2012) and the pies de resistance two army green denim shoulder high gloves that fold down as far as needed for the comfort of the fighter. Will be adorned with patches decided by the wearer. Edges will be frayed to honor to the coup busting aesthetic and spirit of the endeavor. We can decide on a signature lip color, but spf is required for all fighters. Of coarse we will have those football stripes below the eyes, don’t be stupid.

How far away can something be from a face and still have humans think it’s a face

Senator Portman - i hope you are well, and want to thank you for the hard work you have put in to this election. However, it has become abundantly clear that joe Biden and Kamala Harris have secured more than enough electoral and popular votes to warrant recognition as president and vice elect. Upon reading the transcripts of he hopeless court cases, there is absolutely no evidence of vote measurable fraud. is time you stand up for democracy and face reality by congratulating he pair on their success. Americans and scared and they need a powerful republican voice to demounce the unsubstantiated conspircy theories that attempt to thwart democracy in this beautiful county. Please do the right thing , and stand with sanity, freedom and democracy. History books and citizens will thank you. May god bless you, your staff and loved ones

Could mermaids exist through evolution in the future

Me learning about real us history - all the nations destroyed by the USA—- I’m the baaad Guy

The rest of the world - duh dodododosodo

Print that looks like a page of writing that has been sourced in water so it’s bleeding and darker in speckles

Zamps= examples

Clothes with green screen cut outs

Robots don’t need to be sentient to destroy us.

Navy mock neck long sleeves big orange and little white stripe on tube cage sides

A veritcal line stretch waistband

Cross cross and straps back

Square high neck

Scarlet polka dots around can light blue text and beach image as front

Blue stroke red inside square, blue triangle rainbow with eye and funky font

Y either know a particular topic or not , but it’s hard to pin down intelligence on one category

Cream background , ice cream pink script name kinda bev hills hotel script looking ish

Move your mouth in a differ way

Supersonic vibrating butt cleaner

Half magenta half red violet a blue teacup in the center with white floral frills thick serif font

Pink background am orange flower in a vase white present ribbon n red as a table

An app that familiarizes people with science - through experimental learning ― hands on experiences that make it seem less top down and authoritarian , and more like a set of steps that we take, things that anyone can do to get closer with nature and the world

A social media philosophy app - teaches what others said and gives people a chance to express their views , postulate, argue, etc gadfly? How would be avoid a shit show, how can we make social media more humanitarian. how can we care about people while also expressing deeply held ideas , how can we encourage users to examine their deeply held ideas without alienating them. How can we discourage hatred and abuse and groupthink with design? How do we slow people down and encourage them to recognize the human behind the screen. Street epistemology? Socratic dialogue?

Socrates - asking questions. Breaking it down to bits. Deeply understanding their argument. Asking about different possibilities and circumstances. Take vast assumptions and show scenarios that make go against them.

Narrative self vs experiential

[echodrops]

Kicking the Hornet’s Nest...

I’m procrastinating hard on other tasks, but in chit-chatting (both on tumblr and on Discord) about my stance on criticism of fanfiction, I realized that there’s a very low-hanging analogy I can make to explain my thoughts on this, so…

Uh first, please remember this is my personal blog and just my personal opinion. If you think that giving unsolicited concrit is the worst, I promise I’m not here to grab you individually, shake you by the shoulders, and try to change your minds. We can agree to disagree; I’m fully aware my opinion is unpopular on tumblr but also fully aware of the irony of people giving unsolicited criticism on a post about why unsolicited criticism is a good thing.

And second, please note that the analogy used below is only an analogy and not meant to be a one-to-one comparison–obviously the issue of vaccination is a far more critical, serious, and solemn issue and the topic of criticism on fanfiction (of all things) is not equal to a global health crisis that has cost real people’s lives. I’m drawing radical comparisons to thought processes because it’s shocking, not genuinely comparing fanfiction comments to moral and ethical world health decisions because I think those two things are equitable in importance.

Uh and third, please don’t respond unless you’re going to read it all. I'm happy to take your constructive criticism after you're finished with the whole thing. I get so tired of people rushing to my inbox after only getting half way through my arguments–90% of the time, I already addressed the thing you wanted to come yell at me about and you just didn’t make it there, promise.

So, at the risk of pissing off just about everyone who thought they respected me before this:

The current anti-concrit mindset stems from a similar logic to the one used by anti-vaxxers.

(This analogy lasts a grand total of five paragraphs or something, don’t get your jimmies too rustled.)

Most people on tumblr are happy–downright gleeful–to mock anti-vaxxers. The average anti-vaxxer is considered close-minded, self-centered, and under-educated. Although the issue of anti-vaxxing is probably more complicated than we paint it here on this website (to be fair, I wouldn’t know if it’s more complicated, since I agree that anti-vaxxers are generally stupid and don’t look into their arguments very often), almost no one on tumblr has any issue with anti-vaxxers being dragged up and down the block for their bad choices.

Usually, the logic of anti-vaxxers is understood to work something like this:

Anti-vaxxer: I don’t want to expose my child to something potentially harmful, so I am not going to vaccinate them.

Literally everyone else: You’re exposing your child to far greater risk in the long-term by not vaccinating.

Or:

Anti-vaxxer: My child doesn’t need to be vaccinated; they’re fine as they are. Those diseases aren’t a big deal anymore.

Literally everyone else: This mindset will make those diseases a big deal again.

On paper, sometimes anti-vaxxer logic works out–it is true that some children suffer very painful and awful reactions to vaccinations. It IS true that poorly made or contaminated vaccinations have killed children and will continue to do in the future. It IS true that vaccinations are painful and stressful for children in general and can even–depending on how the children respond to pain and how their doctors/nurses treat them–result in long-term phobias and health care aversion. There can be serious lasting consequences from vaccinating.

But most of us laugh in the face of anti-vaxxers. Why? Because we know that in comparison to the number of benefits, the risks are minimal. In the long-term, the number of people helped by vaccines far, far exceeds the number of people hurt.

I hope you can see where I’m going. At its core, the issue of giving unsolicited constructive criticism follows a similar pattern of short-term risk aversion. Authors who don’t want constructive criticism and choose to actively refuse it are following a similar thought process to anti-vaxxer parents:

Author: I don’t want any constructive criticism. Criticism can be painful, and my writing doesn’t need to be exposed to that.

Or:

Author: I don’t need any constructive criticism because my writing is fine as it is and I’m just doing it for fun anyway.

The general attitude seems to be that exposing fanfiction authors to unsolicited constructive criticism carries more risk than it does reward. And please be aware that I’m talking about genuinely constructive criticism here, well-intentioned and polite comments (the vaccine in this analogy), not troll comments deliberately designed to hurt people’s feelings (which would be equivalent to say, an injected contaminated drug in this analogy–no one should be okay with those).

But like anti-vaxxers who insist that the short-term risks of vaccines are more dangerous than the long-term risks of major diseases… is there really any evidence that genuinely constructive criticism, even when unsolicited, really does discourage and upset a large number of fanfiction authors? Or, more to the point of the analogy–is the number of people who would be entirely discouraged from writing ever again by some constructive criticism really greater than the number of people who would benefit from getting some (again, polite) tips for improving their writing? Which is the greater risk–being hurt in the short-term or losing out on the opportunity for growth in the long-term?

Clearly there are different opinions on this and I suspect that my opinion is heavily colored by the fact that I am older than the average tumblr user and therefore have many more years to look back on to weigh on the scales of this debate.

But I will always, always argue that the long-term benefits of helping other writers where you can far, far, far outweigh the short-term risks, for a couple reasons.

1) The world is a shitty, disappointing, stressful, and painful place. We encounter harsh criticisms every single day. Your teachers will give you poor grades. Your bosses will tell you your work isn’t up-to-par. Your friends will tell you the new top you bought and absolutely love… actually makes you look like you’re wearing a potato sack. If you’re into relationships, you’ll probably experience at least one break-up in which you hear that it’s YOU, not them, who is the problem. Your feelings will be hurt by callous comments from others an uncountable number of times. Your confidence will be shaken, if not actively crushed. I’m sorry to say it, but for almost all of us, having some miserable, anxiety-inducing and extremely discouraging moments in life is part of the unavoidable human experience. (And this is doubly, maybe triply true when we are starting out new hobbies or first entering a new field. Anyone who has ever tried to learn how to skateboard and gotten laughed at by experienced skateboarders knows exactly what I’m talking about.)

The world is full of truly awful things. And I’m not the kind of person who thinks we should just be exposed to all of them right from the get-go and fuck you and your snowflake feelings or things like that. I highly urge people to tag for triggering content and am on the record again and again telling people to block characters or ships that make them uncomfortable.

But many fanfiction authors are young authors, some of whom are posting work for public consumption for the very first time. Still more have no positive experiences with constructive criticism in the first place, and the extent of their literary criticism knowledge comes from really awful and boring high school English classes. When budding writers encounter a sudden explosion of access to readers–from having maybe one or two friends read their work to suddenly having their words in front of the eyes of thousands of strangers on the internet:

It’s disingenuous to give starting writers nothing but positive feedback. Only hearing positives about your work actively discourages change and self-reflection. It gives writers an unrealistic picture of their work that can result in far more serious disappointment and embarrassment later. When someone is awful at singing and they’re only told how nice their voice is, eventually when they sing for a more serious group of strangers, they’re going to be in for a very, very miserable time.

It’s a terrible missed opportunity for young writers to get a glimpse of what “professional” writing is like. Everyone benefits from genuinely constructive criticism–both the person getting it and the person giving it. We create young writers who are passionate about improving their writing by inducting them into the culture of planning, drafting, bouncing ideas off each other, finding beta readers, and taking others’ advice to grow their abilities, and oftentimes, one of the first experiences a person has with that process is someone spontaneously going “Hey, what if you tried this instead?” People often become inspired to become doctors and nurses after witnessing a family member experience a medical crisis–people often become inspired to become writers after receiving thorough feedback on things they have written. It’s impossible to really know whether or not you want a piece of constructive criticism until after you have heard what the criticism is, and adopting a “no unsolicited constructive criticism” policy as a whole creates an entire generation of fan writers who would miss out on opportunities for growth and inspiration.

This is waxing REALLY philosophical, but bear with me here, because this is also a well-documented concern of mine: we are entering an age in which people are no longer responsible for the media choices they make, where the internet is no longer viewed as a the equivalent of yelling into a crowd of (potentially dangerous) strangers, and the onus for protection is shifting away from self-preservation “I need to not put myself near upsetting things” to “other people have the responsibility not to expose me to upsetting things.” I’ve seen a lot of people say “If authors want constructive criticism on their fics, they can just say that in a note!” My ladies. My guys. My non-binary buddies. This is the utter opposite of how the internet functions. When you put anything on the internet, you are literally putting it before a crowd of an absolutely uncountable number of strangers and there are no rules (barring the laws of their home countries) dictating how they can respond to the things you put out there. Posting your writing on the internet is explicit consent to receive constructive criticism from anyone at any time unless you take actions to prevent that in advance. Sites like AO3 actively grant you the power to dictate who can SEE your work, comment on your work, give you the power to remove messages, screen comments before they appear, block comments entirely, or simply write in any of your notes sections that you do not want constructive criticism. (If it’s that easy to write “I want constructive criticism!” why is not seen as equally easy to write “I do not want constructive criticism!”?)

Public spaces on the internet are opt out, not opt in.

Why do many (though lord knows, not all) tumblr users easily agree to the idea of “If you don’t like a ship, you should just block it” or “If you see properly tagged content you don’t like on AO3 and you click it, that’s your own fault for not reading the tags,” but have the complete opposite mindset when it comes to constructive criticism? “I’m submitting my work in a public place where anyone can express their opinion on it… But even though there are multiple tools at my disposal for discouraging and blocking opinions I don’t agree with, it’s actually other people’s responsibility not to say anything that might upset me.”

As I said, waxing philosophical here, but this is kind of a scary mindset. The ability to enter a public space–and the internet is the MOST public space in the world–and then declare that you simply don’t want to listen to dissenting opinions is scary. I mean, this is how we get a common anti-vaxxer mindset–I don’t want to listen to your opinion because I have my source telling me I’m right and that’s all I need. “I put my work out in a public place and left it accessible to everyone, but I don’t want to listen to what everyone says about it.” I don’t mean to jump off the slippery slope, but this issue is a slippery slope in and of itself. Down this way lies a dark future. “It’s other people’s responsibility to curate my social experience for me.”

But really, after all this… I just flat out think it’s important to give genuinely constructive criticism to each other without people needing to ask for it because it just kind of sucks to see a fellow writer struggling with something and not say something about it. It’s not about feeling superior or thinking you know better than someone else; we all have our own strengths and weaknesses, and spotting something that could use a bit of work in someone else’s writing doesn’t make you a better writer, it just means that’s not your particular weakness. When someone is struggling to learn to swim, you don’t just leave them to their own devices and assume they’ll figure it out–even if they swear they’ve got it. When someone is learning to sew and you, who has sewed that exact thing before, don’t offer any advice, that’s not encouragement, it’s apathy. There will be many, many, many times in your life where you did not know you needed advice. Where you did not know HOW to ask for advice. Where you might have known you needed advice but not really wanted to admit that. Where you might have known you needed advice and been too shy to ask for help. Where a piece of advice completely from the blue changes the course of your life. Fandom as a whole–fan creators as a whole–cannot become a culture that closes the door to that vital form of communication, rejects willingness to not only uplift but also help each other grow even when we least expect it.

Anyway, I’m literally just writing this to avoid real responsibilities, but the point I’m trying to make is:

Most writers, even very young writers, will not be discouraged by polite, well-intentioned criticism. They may not like it. They may not take any of the criticism to heart, but most people, even young people, are far more resilient than tumblr (which on the best of days is a negative feedback loop that can romanticize a victim mindset because having the saddest backstory makes you immune to cancellation) wants to give them credit for, and a vast majority of writers will not be traumatized or scared away from writing by people trying to offer them genuine advice. Remember, no one here is advocating for asshole trolls who post comments like “Your writing sucks and you should delete your account.” A majority of writers, even very young writers, will be able to weather the storms and tosses of even really rudely-worded advice and recover. Sometimes it might take a while, but human beings have survived as a species because we’re really, really persevering.

(But some people aren’t! you might say. Some people really will give up writing if they’re criticized! And you’d be correct. There are people who will give up, even if all they are faced with is a single gentle, well-intentioned piece of criticism. But the truth is… People give up on hobbies for all kinds of reasons! Not every hobby is for every person! Every hobby carries with it its own challenges, its own share of risks, and its own pains. Learning a new hobby consistently requires putting yourself out of your comfort zone. Wanna learn how to ride a snowboard? You will get bruised. Wanna learn how to play chess? You will lose. Wanna learn to draw? Someone will make fun of your early drawings. You will make fun of your own early drawings. Wanna post your writing on a public platform? Someday, someone is going to say they’re not a fan.

And that leads me to address the point that just keeps coming up and coming up in this issue: People aren’t always posting their fics to improve as writers! A lot of times people are posting for just fun or for personal reasons.

Yeahhhhh bullshit. No, no, hang on–I don’t mean that people don’t have fun writing and posting fics, or that fics can’t help you through traumatic experiences because everything I’ve ever posted is basically me dealing with my own personal shit–what I mean is that there’s always an additional dimension to posting your fics on large-scale public websites. People write stories and share them with their friend groups for fun. People write characters overcoming trauma and share them with their therapists (or the friends who help to fill that role) for healing. People post their stories publicly, where anyone can respond, for validation on top of their fun and healing. There are ways to hide your fics entirely on many sites. You can leave things in drafts. If a fic is appearing as unmoderated and open to the public on a major fic site such as AO3, Wattpad, ff.net, etc., it’s because that fic’s author wants responses from others! They want views. They want subscribes. They want kudos. They want comments. There’s literally no reason to post publicly except for your work to be viewed by the public.

The fun one has writing a fic is often tied directly to the thrill of seeing a comment or kudos notification pop-up in your inbox. We love seeing people enjoy our fics–it absolutely makes my day when someone sends me a message telling me they re-read my fic for the third time.

It’s NOT fun to write something and get no response.

Writing something and getting no response is actively discouraging, actually.

So whenever someone says “They’re not writing fics to improve as writers; they’re just doing it for fun!” I have to laugh a bit–because when the concept of “fun with fanfiction” is tied so closely to the experience of having your work viewed and enjoyed by others, the fastest and surest way to increase the fun you have with your fanfics… is to improve as a writer. The more you write, the more you improve. The more you improve, the more loyal readers you gain. The more loyal readers you gain, the more excited people you have to gush about your fics with. Want a Discord server full of people willing to help you brainstorm ideas for your favorite AU? Write well, attract followers. Want fanart of your writing, probably the most fun and exciting thing I can think of as an author? Write well. Just plain old want more friends in the fandom to talk about your favorite characters and fic ideas with? Make writer friends.

People have fun writing about their favorite characters and post publicly to receive responses and validation for their creations… Responses increase the fun writers have because they make the hard work of writing worth it and give you people to keep writing for and with… Improving your writing increases the number of people attracted to your works and the number of people willing to spend time responding to them… The bigger the response you get, the more invested you become in your fics, the more fandom friends you make, and the more you want to write–it’s a process that is self-fulfilling, but also one that exposes you to criticism by its very nature. The very act of seeking responses from readers means that you’re open to responses that you don’t necessarily want to hear.

And I actually don’t mean this in the way of “If you can’t handle the heat, don’t jump into the fire.” What I mean is that it is impossible to create a world in which everyone who starts writing sticks with the hobby and keeps churning out works for us to enjoy forever. It is impossible to create a world in which no young writer will ever feel discouraged and give up. The writer you decided not to give constructive criticism to might just as easily become discouraged and quit writing because they didn’t receive enough response.

The first time you give your child a new vaccine, you cannot predict the results. Your child might suffer an allergic reaction. They might die. Every year, numerous severe reactions to vaccines do occur. But the majority of people don’t question the effectiveness of vaccines because we understand that the number of people who have severe reactions is very low in comparison to the number of people who benefit from the vaccine. The number of people who will be discouraged from writing by genuine, polite, constructive criticism is minuscule in comparison to the number of people who will either 1) benefit from it directly and be thankful you gave it, 2) not benefit but not be upset by it, 3) be mildly upset by it but then benefit, or 4) just be mildly upset by itself and then move on with life unharmed because sometimes people say things we don’t like but that doesn’t ruin our lives every single time it happens.

I’m not saying that providing polite constructive criticism doesn’t have risks, just that its risks are smaller than its benefits.

And I’ve successfully whittled enough time away with this now that I can go to sleep without guilt over the things I didn’t finish, but I started this by saying the long-term benefits outweighed the short-term risks and I feel obligated to defend that…

The long-term benefits of well-placed constructive criticism are enormous. Sometimes people need ego checks. Sometimes we need wake-up calls. Sometimes we need a gentle helping hand and didn’t even realize other people could be the help we needed. Sometimes we need a reason to get fired up–even if that reason is spite, trying to prove a critic wrong! Sometimes the answer is glaring us in the face and we don’t notice until someone else points it out. Sometimes we just plain out make mistakes. Sometimes we need a teacher because the ones in school let us down. Sometimes (oftentimes) other people bring incredibly unique perspectives to our stories that we would never have been open to on our own. Sometimes we write something unintentionally hurtful and need some gentle correction. Sometimes we could be having a lot more fun if we knew the tips and tricks others had to offer. Sometimes improving ourselves is hard but worth it. Sometimes bitter medicine is the only thing that will cure an ailment.

Shots hurt. People avoid them because they aren’t fun–what parent wants to expose their child to the painful, stressful situation of getting stabbed with needles? (What parent looks forward to the yearly flu shot themselves?)

We naturally flinch back from criticism. There are many times when we swear we don’t want it, don’t need it, can’t bear it! In the moment, it is incredibly difficult to be confronted with someone basically implying that you should change something integral to yourself–your art. No one likes to feel like they’re being picked apart for weaknesses, definitely not.

But sometimes a single comment can make a massive difference in your life–even when you didn’t want it at first.

All my life, I have been helped along by teachers, family, and friends who refused to settle for patting me on the back. The people who mean the most to me, who I most credit with getting me where I am today, are not the people who just told me I was good at things. They’re the people who told me I was good at things BUT. They people who challenged me to not just sail through life or even coast in my hobbies, content with the level I entered on–they’re the people who had faith in me and trust that I could refine my skills, could have even more fun IF I took that next step, challenged myself to go a bit harder… They’re the people who took the time not just to skim over my writing and slap a thumbs up on it, but the people who thought hard enough about it go: “This story was good, but have you thought about…”

Today, I’m a professor of English because I started writing fanfiction when I was 11 years old. Because I started posting fanfiction when I was 13. Because at 14 years old, someone–without being asked–taught me the correct way to format dialogue and how to strengthen my dialogue tags. Because at 15, someone flat out laughed to tears at a cliche metaphor I’d extended too far and I was ashamed, but they taught me something else to try instead. Because by 18, I’d received–and taken–enough unsolicited writing advice to land myself the highest paying on-campus tutoring job my university offered. Because by 19, someone challenged me to write something I told them was impossible for me. Because by 20, that impossible writing became the sample that got me accepted to grad school. Because by 21, I was furious enough at the criticism I received from my creative writing masters classmates to write a thesis so feverishly overwhelming that it inspired one of the foremost postmodern poets in the country. Because by 27, it was brutally honest criticism that gave me the gall to finally leave an abusive job and apply for a teaching position. Because by 30, I got to sit at a public literary journal volume launch and watch an entire class of my creative writing students become published authors.

And even though I joked about why I was writing this, and even though I’m really not, at the heart of it, trying to persuade any one person over to my side, I hope it’s clear how much of a labor of love this post is. How passionate I am about this topic.

This whole thing is a drawn-out plea: Please, do not let fandom creation sites become a place where no one offers advice unless it is begged for. Do not miss your chance to help someone else improve. Do not close the door to criticism that could change your life. Do not let fear of short-term discouragement prevent you from seeking long-term growth. Do not let the immediate side effects cloud your view of the global benefits.

Inoculate yourselves with good advice as a shield against the very hard future.

A dearth of criticism will not make fandom a better place. It will just make it a quieter one.

[fairfieldthinkspace]

Can the Trauma of War Lead to Growth, Despite the Scars?

By Phil Klay 

When we speak of trauma, it is usually as something to be avoided at all costs. But the suffering that war brings can be a strange and terrible blessing.

This article is part of a series on resilience in troubled times — what we can learn about it from history and personal experiences.

The French weapon deployed against Spanish troops in 1521 was, contemporaries said, “more diabolical than human.” The rapid-firing light bronze cannon shot iron balls that crushed battlements, careened wildly and sprayed shards of stone in all directions. At the Battle of Pamplona, one cannonball twice injured the leader of a small Spanish garrison defying calls for surrender, nearly killing him, first by striking one leg with stone shrapnel, then in the other leg by the cannonball itself. His name was Íñigo López de Loyola. The effect on Loyola was not only physical, but also spiritual: Today, he is better known as St. Ignatius.

Back then, he was no saint. One biography describes him as “a rough punkish swordsman who used his privileged status to escape prosecution for violent crimes committed with his priest brother at carnival time.” But this near-fatal injury changed him, along with a few religious books he read during his exceptionally painful convalescence, in which his bones had to be broken again and reset, and where he came so close to death he was given last rites. He went on to found the Jesuits and send disciples all over the globe, in what the British historian Dom David Knowles suggested was Christianity’s “greatest single religious impulse since the preaching of the apostles.”

When we speak of trauma, it is usually as something to be avoided at all costs. “Interest in avoiding pain,” wrote the utilitarian philosopher Peter Singer, is among “the most important human interests.” And yet soldiers like St. Ignatius, who found in their suffering a strange and terrible blessing, are not rare. Senator John McCain, brutally tortured at the Hanoi Hilton, famously declared himself “grateful to Vietnam” for giving him “a seriousness of purpose that observers of my early life had found difficult to detect.”

His might be an extreme case, but the expectation of exposure to some trauma has long been part of the draw of war. “The law is this: no wisdom without pain,” wrote the ancient Greek playwright and military veteran Aeschylus. “Wanted or not by us, such wisdom’s gained; its score, its etch, its scar in us goes deep.” Perhaps that’s true, but it leaves us with an ugly and, to some, offensive question: Can suffering be a gift?

In the early 20th century, the German writer Ernst Jünger, who had proudly served four years in brutal front-line fighting in World War I, declared the answer was a resounding yes. “Tell me your relation to pain,” he claimed, “and I will tell you who you are!” Civilization before the war had slid into bourgeoise decadence, he thought, fleeing from self-sacrifice and prioritizing safety. But the war heralded a new sort of man.

“Hardened as scarcely another generation ever was in fire and flame,” he wrote of himself and his fellow soldiers, “we could go into life as though from the anvil; into friendship, love, politics, professions, into all that destiny had in store. It is not every generation that is so favored.” Postwar Germany convinced him that the industrialized world these men returned to, which happily destroyed workers’ bodies for the construction of railways or mines, was ruled by the same cruel logic as the trenches. Men would have to rise to the challenge by accepting pain, and accepting the cruelty of the age. This is toughness and callousness elevated to a first principle. Unsurprisingly, many of Jünger’s admirers became Nazis.

One of their victims was an Austrian of Jewish descent named Jean Améry, who after the war forcefully rejected, in the starkest terms, any notions of suffering as a gift. Likewise, notions of stoic detachment born of the trenches were absurd to a man who had been tortured by the Gestapo before being sent to Auschwitz. Améry experienced pain beyond description; he was hung by his arms until they ripped from their sockets, and then horsewhipped. For the tortured man, he wrote, “his flesh becomes total reality.”

More lasting than the pain, though, the experience destroyed his ability to ever feel at home in the world, which requires faith in fellow men. Humans are a social animal, our inner self in constant outward search for communion. Torture inverts that expansive, capacious self into a collapsing star. Whatever you thought you were — a mind, a consciousness, a soul — torture reveals how simply, and casually, that can be destroyed. “A slight pressure by the tool-wielding hand is enough,” Améry wrote, to turn a cultured man into “a shrilly squealing piglet at slaughter.” There is wisdom here, though of a dark sort. “Whoever was tortured, stays tortured.” Améry committed suicide in 1978.

Where does that leave those who suffer? For the medical community, the safest option is addressing symptoms, not metaphysics. The writer and former Marine infantry officer David J. Morris has described his own therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder from his time in Iraq, during which he was urged to retell the stories of his trauma, practice breathing exercises, and reframe his cognitive responses to his environment and his traumatic memories.

But he was not encouraged to grow in response to what he had gone through; when he would try to speculate on how his experience might be converted to wisdom, psychologists would admonish him, he reported, “for straying from the strictures of the therapeutic regime.” One senior psychologist at the Department of Veterans Affairs told him that notions of post-traumatic growth were an insult to those who have suffered. For a medical community grounded in science rather than spirituality, and rightfully leery of telling the Amérys of the world to look on the bright side, suffering is no gift.

But another current can be found in theories developed during the Vietnam War. The study of psychological trauma suffers from what the psychiatrist Judith Herman has called “episodic amnesia,” in which periods of active interest, frequently following wars, are followed by “periods of oblivion.” But the generation of soldiers disaffected from war during Vietnam organized and demanded the first systematic, large-scale investigations of war trauma’s long-term effects. In addition to a medical diagnosis — PTSD was added to the American Psychiatric Association’s official manual in 1980 — many of these same veterans and their allies argued for the spiritual and moral significance of their condition.

Psychiatrists like Robert Jay Lifton and writers like Peter Marin argued that the suffering of Vietnam veterans was not simply neurosis, but appropriate moral response to horror. “All men, like all nations, are tested twice in the moral realm,” Mr. Marin wrote. “First by what they do, then by what they make of what they do.” Rather than numbing themselves to pain, they needed to sensitize themselves, to become alive to the “animating” guilt they supposedly lived with. Guilt forces the suffering consciousness outside of itself, the theory goes, sparking empathy and a drive to make reparation.

Whether guilt results in healing, though, is debatable. Some of the most fascinating research on growth after war trauma emerges out of a four decade-long study initiated by Zahava Solomon, which followed the PTSD trajectories of veterans of the 1982 war in Lebanon and the Arab-Israeli war of 1973, also known as the Yom Kippur War. A 2016 analysis of Israeli P.O.W.s from the 1973 war, who faced systematic torture, deprivation and social stigma, did find that those who reported the most guilt about their experience also reported the most growth. However, those veterans also had greater reports of PTSD symptoms as well. As Aeschylus warned, the wisdom they felt they had gained came with deep scars.

None of this would likely have surprised Ignatius of Loyola. In his tradition, suffering was at best a mystery: God never really answers Job, and Christ’s prayer to “let this cup pass me by” goes ungranted. As a Jesuit friend recently told me, suffering is never a gift, never truly willed by God; suffering is real, and awful, and not to be forgotten. “Consider how the Divinity hides Itself,” Ignatius’ followers have been directed to ask for hundreds of years, “how It could destroy Its enemies and does not do it, and how It leaves the most sacred Humanity to suffer so very cruelly.” But of course, that doesn’t mean that we cannot respond to such suffering with grace.

Phil Klay is a U.S. Marine Corps veteran, a visiting professor at Fairfield University and the author of “Redeployment,” winner of the 2014 National Book Award for Fiction, and the forthcoming novel “Missionaries.”

[lilpee-pee]

Hilda is even more obscure than I initially thought; a mythological masterpiece!

I’m not sure how many other people have noticed this, but here’s the list I’ve made from lots of research! This post will consist of no specific spoiler. But if you don’t want to know about anything yet, DO NOT READ THIS!!!

So after re watching the entire show, I noticed something rather interesting. Each episode features a creature or culture derived from ancient mythology. 

Episode 1;

The Elves: At first, I assumed this was about fairies. The tiny civilizations they must have. But after looking at the landscaping of the backgrounds, it hit me. These are based off of Iceland’s Huldufolk. This translates directly to hidden people. Said to be protectors of their good fortune, the government of Iceland made completely illegal any construction or interference with what is supposedly land that belongs to these small, invisible elves, who live in miniature houses called alfhols. Wait. Alf? Alfur? Coincidence? I think not. 

Episode 2;

Giants: The giants of Hilda are solely based off of Norse mythology. Legend tells of a tribe of beautiful giants, who once lived between the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains. There were hundreds of species, living in hundreds of habitats. The Great Spirit, however, grew tired of their aloof and mighty behaviors toward each other, so he allowed their enemies to conquer them; the humans. Only two giants survived: Paiute and his wife. Sounds about right. 

The Woodman: This monotone cryptic of Hilda’s assorted friends took me quite a bit of research to track down the origins to. But finally, I found him. Based on Greek culture, he’s actually a dryad, or “oak nymph”. These walking, wooden creatures exist to look after the oak tree they were forged from. So let’s suspend some disbelief and assume Hilda’s ancestor used the Woodman’s tree in order to build the cabin Hilda lives in. Why else would he have stuck around, since he’s always minorly annoyed and yet indubitably shows up in many of Hilda’s childhood crayon drawings? Just a thought.

Episode 3;

Thunderbird: These birds originate from Native American beliefs. By flapping its gigantic wings, it creates thunder and lightning, controlling the storm season and bringing excellent harvest. With storms, come rain, so the arrival of the thunderbird was always a promising sign. Present in their dances, tattoos, and carvings, he protected them from the great horned serpent and it’s destructive tendencies, bringing whoever favored him good luck and prosperity. Slides right in with Trolberg’s annual parade, don’t you think? And it brings a whole new connotation to the city’s “statue”, when the Great Raven explains how he had sat on top of it; his symbol was always present at the very top of a totem pole. 

Episode 4;

Vittra: These stinky little onions are more than they seem to be. From Northern Sweden, these underground dwelling nature spirits are very aggressive, territorial, and hated humans. They’re also known to have invisible cattle, which they milk for food and commonly steal from mortals who have wronged them. Really explains the cows, huh? They’re known to make humans’ lives miserable, especially when they meddle with their tunnels, lifestyle, or even cross their borders. Even in modern day, people have moved their homes away from any nearby “vittraställe”, or vittra way, just in case. 

Episode 5;

Trolls: Another Icelandic folktale, trolls are said to have been dim witted, man eating creatures that turned to stone upon contact with sunlight. Even in Lord of the Rings, they used these concepts. So why wouldn’t Hilda? If you visit the beaches of Iceland, it is said that the huge boulders scattered about the shores, and in the water, were once trolls. They were caught by the dawn as they attempted to crush the ships returning to their homes, carrying fishermen finding food for their families. These “troll rocks” are their bodies, reaching out to the sea, now forever entrapped in stone. 

Episode 6; 

Marra: Originally known as mare, which eventually attributes to the word “nightmare”, the Hungarian marra are malicious entities that possess humans with certain amounts of negative energy. Teenagers with depression, mostly, which also helped create the possessed, creepy kid trope in horror movies. While you sleep, they perch on your chest, and expose your mind to its deepest fear. Eventually, the marra evolved into the legend of the boogey man, so in retrospect, they never actually disappeared. 

Episode 7;

The Bragga: These outcasted group of elves, who made a failed contract with the Aldric family over “No Elf’s Land”, aren’t just coincidentally donning beard braids and helmets, obsessed with fighting physically, drinking ale, spitting, and riding rabbits like they’re jousting horses. They’re based off of Nordic Vikings, their separation from Scandinavia, and the culture that they eventually developed. Their tendencies to favor combat over reason is made evident, too, however stereotypical it may be. This is pretty much the only example the show has used so far to allude to a historical period of time. 

Episode 8;

Tide Mice: Taken from Mapuche mythology, these voodoo rodents are actually supposed to be colo colos. Evil, rat-like creatures, they hide in your house to feed on your saliva while you sleep, eventually bringing about comatose states and long term memory loss. Once all of your life juice has been depleted, your soul is completely sucked from your body and the colo colo consumes it in order to go on living. Despite their complete irrelevance with wicca, the way the show manages to assimilate the two is genius. 

Episode 9;

Ghosts: I feel like this speaks for itself. They’re very commonly used, but the show does a good, unique job of connecting a ghostly presence not with a negative haunting that needs to be handled or else everyone will die, but with a helpful spirit, just hanging around a house because it’s linked to a specific item or object. 

Episode 10;

Wind Spirits: The wind spirits, which were based off of Roman Anemoi, minor wind gods that each represented a cardinal direction, are shown in Hilda as debaters who couldn’t come to a conclusion. Their fighting is what makes gigantic natural disasters. This is mocking a bit of fun of Roman philosophers, who were known to sit around in their forums, arguing until the entire town couldn’t stand it. The irritated citizens would call these prolonged discussions, “storms of the intellect”. 

Episode 11;

Cursed Cottage: I have no clue where this myth derives from, and I couldn’t find much else except Into the Woods songs, but this is basically adopting the enchanted cottage trope. The gingerbread house that actually houses a wicked witch, the lone hut that holds everything Goldilocks longs for except for its occupants; so many fairy tales center their setting around a manipulative house that tries to snatch you up and never let you go. So this one is probably just a primal usage of that timeless idea, combined with a cool twist of inter dimensional neurotics. Pretty cool!

Episode 11;

Nisse: Also fondly known as house brownies, nisse are Norweigian dwarves, living inside of your home. Sometimes known to mischievously steal your things, like socks, car keys, old toys, jewelry, etc, they make nests in your walls or your abandoned, most frequently forgotten to check spots. If you are kind to them, leave them food, and treat them well, they will go out of their way to do good things for you, like wash your dishes, dust your desk, or, yknow, purge evil energies from your body. But if you anger them, they can be quite a hassle; breaking things is a usual reaction. Either way, if you ever catch them, you have the right to forcefully evict them from your home. 

Episode 12;

Black Hounds: Black hounds, throughout the history of mythology, are always seen as a dark, ominous omen, warning you of potential suffering, struggle, pain, turmoil, chaos and death. So pretty darn bad. Seeing a black hound, or even owning one, is still a superstition, today. They’re literally called the “accumulation of everything that is evil on this plane of existence.” But, if you haven’t already watched Hilda, keep Sirius Black in mind, and his patronus, which reminds us, “don’t read a book by it’s cover.” 

That’s all I’ve got to say, gamers! There are some that I skipped, like the lindworm, water spirits, stuff like that. But all in all, Hilda is a mythological masterpiece. Watch it whenever you can if you appreciate lore in any way, because it’s not just a beautiful, naturally diversified show about a socially anxious girl assimilating into a new culture. It’s taking incredibly interesting and obscure pieces of mythological history and braiding it into a perfectly constructed storyline. Whether or not it’s educational is up to you. Not even including here how breath takingly gorgeous the animation, use of color, and backgrounds are. Just... please. Don’t sleep on it! 

[madrut16]

78 (in a silly way lmao) and 94!

Hi, thanks for the questions!

✨78: Hypothetically bc I've never actually done anything romantic in my life ever, this would be the checklist. It also applies to friends too.

1. Must be a feminist/respect women. Also don't be racist, homophobic, xenophobic, etc. (I am pretty liberal in general so you have to be able to handle that) I won't stake you if you're not or argue with you bc I hate confrontation esp on politics. I have strong views that I will advocate for but I'm not wasting negative energy debating with someone who will never see my POV. Social things especially.

2. Be intellectual (bonus points if you're a history nerd like I am) I don't love small talk, and deep conversations are 👌. To me a love for learning esp humanities though science is cool too. Let me pick your brain and debate tricky philosophical questions. Take me to museums for hours.

3. Be adept at sarcasm. I am snarky. I will tease a lot esp those close to me. Having someone who can take that and even dish it out. Does not mean I'm flirting bc I will do this to everyone.

4. Be generous/charitable. Donate to things and volunteer. Pay it forward, smile at people. Don't be rude to service people. Go out of your way to be thoughtful and brighten people's day. Be Adrian Raines and search all of Manhattan for the best cocoa 😂

5. Music lover/talent. Music is everything to me. So preferably the person I end up with or befriend would have that as well. If you can sing, play an instrument, even better.

6. Foodie. I also love food. I will eat a lot and will not be shy about it. I like trying new foods especially international dishes. That over anything American will make me happy any day.

7. Traveling. I haven't been to a lot of countries but I want to. I want to learn about different cultures and see different sights. So again, thing to do together. Experiences and actions mean more to me than any fancy item you could give me.

I know it's high maintenance and a little wishful thinking but choices has spoiled me so... I'm not apologizing.

✨94: I have actually! Over the summer I worked several concerts selling tickets and sorting everyone's trash for sustainability. It was not pretty but it paid decently so...I'm not complaining.

[mymemoirs]

Confessions: Unmuting Friends in Social Media

21st July 2019

It’s 12.26 AM.

I’m fully awake knowing that I should be sleeping right now because I would need to wake up early in the morning. But I can’t turn in for the night, I just need to get these thoughts out of my system, so I’m writing this. This is kind of a confession I had to make.

I just muted a friend’s story in Instagram today.

You must have thought, “Really? That’s what you wanted to say? Muting a story in social media is a trivial thing, girl.”

Well not for me. Since I’m quite up to date to what’s my friend doing in social media most of the time. Especially keeping up with close friends, sometimes I would just look at their updates whenever I have free time. This holiday made me had all those free time. So, I’m online most of the time.

And that friend was quite a close friend of mine. So it’s a hard decision to make and one that I had to overthink about. Well, I could just unmute her, but I’ve decided that once I mute someone, it will be for a long time. And it will also be for reasons that only stand for me. Not for anyone else. So you might think it’s absurd but I’m doing it for myself because I’m the one who’s going to see it and have thoughts or perception about it. Until now, there are two people whom I mute from my Instagram stories. My motivation to mute them stems from being heartbroken and disappointed.

I’m not even sure if the first friend I muted can be called as “friends” anymore but I don’t think I have the term for that “friend”.  Well, yes, you can say we’re not really friends anymore and I was heartbroken. And no, it’s not like we cut off our friendship literally, it just happens. I realized that I were not his close friends to begin, and I was delusional thinking we were close. What made me heartbroken is when I asked him out to meet each other (since it has been a long time), he never actually replies my message. BUT he made stories (in Instagram) that he was out with other friends from high school.

I still remembered how it felt being trampled over and over again. I know that he seldom replies my message before, but seeing that update was the last straw for me. I remembered crying that night over a friend that might not even think of me as a friend. Someone who only used me. And then I decided to mute him. Until now, I never thought of unmuting him. I realized later on, I was happy not seeing his updates and have come to term that we might not be crossing each other’s path anymore after high school. So instead of confronting on “why you’re doing this to me?” and being childish about it, I would rather avoid looking at his updates and keep our interactions at the minimum. And that’s for the first person I used the “mute” button on.

The second one though, I’m actually feeling pretty guilty about it. Since we’re actually quite close but maybe we’re not really that close anymore. I have to say that is mostly my fault to begin with. Me and my friend basically have different religious and philosophical views. She has a very strict Muslim views and I on the other hand is a Buddhist who likes to doubt and ask things.

So in short, we always have talks regarding our religious views and then sometimes end up arguing or sometimes not arguing but it would leave both of us feeling awkward later on. Maybe the reason we’re feeling awkward stems from us trying to explain to someone who don’t understand our views and values. But I had to admit it, there are times I do enjoy our conversations but I think she might not. So when we have these kind of conversations recently, she would then reply me, “You keep on asking everything, huh?” or “Talking to you will take up a long time.” or “I don’t know what to reply your previous message.”

This boils down to “I don’t like talking about this stuff with you anymore, so can we stop?”. Well, that’s what I thought and in fact we’ve been avoiding that kind of topic whenever we converse. But guess what, I’m always the one who started it. The funny thing is, we only graze the religion topic. I mean we’re not really talking about religious views, just about something in general like mental revolution, which is more to the philosophical side of things.

I don’t understand why she posted those writings and I should have just asked before giving my own views. I don’t know if it will touch a sensitive issue to her and I think I kind of did, because she purposely avoided it. I said that it was alright, but deep down I’m not. I kept on thinking about it, mostly because I’m curious as how she would reply and also because I was disappointed. It kind of hurts in a sense and I think I’m stupid to give my views about something. But I can’t help it either when she kept posting religious views each time I open her updates. It’s kind of unbearable that’s what she always posted and to avoid myself from being triggered like what I did before, I prompted to mute her. Just to be on the safe side.

I realized that although it’s nice to exchange your views about something, you need to be open minded to their views and not everyone can do that. I don’t think I can always do that too, but since college, I’ve always been trying to learn people’s cultures and views. Especially when you are the minority, you just learn a lot from them. And I think I will keep on learning to have a proper dialogue in the future to avoid this kind discomfort for my friends.

This is actually what I need to get out of my system. I’m just feeling guilty and unfulfilled since it wasn’t replied. But at the same time I feel stupid because I kept on hearing that telling someone about your views is pointless and only stupid people would argue about their stance. So, I will also be learning to refrain myself from debating about my views.

Although telling someone or having a conversation about what you value might be pointless. I still think a good way to convey and remind yourself of that is by writing about it. Not everyone might read it but at least you have imprinted it on something that is much more durable than just a mere conversation. You might forget what you just talked about yesterday with your friend but you will always be reminded of what you wrote because you can read it back again and you will be reminded of it again. I think that’s the power of jotting everything down.

-Reina

[badbackgroundscience]

The End of Time

It’s a rare instance I get to talk science about Dr. Strange. But such an instance upon us. At least briefly:*

Does time not have ends?

So, like, the concept of time itself is wrought with debate going back thousands of years across the entire planet (e.g. Judeo-Christian cultures generally treat time as a linear concept, but many others see time as cyclical, and philosophers argued about whether time is a thing you can measure or merely an illusion our brains created to make sense of reality). We also don’t know if time is truly continuous or - on a very teeny tiny small scale - quantized.

I’m not going to pick at that. My background is in astrophysics. We’ve got our own problems within particle physics with time apparently having a direction under observation but not in the math and it’s all a giant mess. I have no soapbox from which to stand on what time is or isn’t.

But to even think about trying to answer the question of time having ends, we can at least travel to either supposed temporal edge of the universe -- most scientists treat time as having begun at the moment of the Big Bang, roughly 13.8 billion years ago.** 

If that is indeed the case, time is bounded at least on one end. The past is not, as the Ancient One states, endless.

But it might not be. 

Stephen Hawking once put forward the concept of “imaginary time” -- that’s imaginary akin to imaginary numbers, for the mathematically inclined among you. It’s not that it doesn’t exist like your childhood imaginary friend, but that it exists outside of ‘reality’ as we experience it. Basically it just exists in the math.

Here a blurb:

One can picture it in the following way. One can think of ordinary, real, time as a horizontal line. On the left, one has the past, and on the right, the future. But there's another kind of time in the vertical direction. This is called imaginary time, because it is not the kind of time we normally experience. But in a sense, it is just as real, as what we call real time. 

...space and imaginary time together, are indeed finite in extent, but without boundary. They would be like the surface of the Earth, but with two more dimensions. The surface of the Earth is finite in extent, but it doesn't have any boundaries or edges... 

If space and imaginary time are indeed like the surface of the Earth, there wouldn't be any singularities in the imaginary time direction, at which the laws of physics would break down. And there wouldn't be any boundaries, to the imaginary time space-time, just as there aren't any boundaries to the surface of the Earth. This absence of boundaries means that the laws of physics would determine the state of the universe uniquely, in imaginary time. But if one knows the state of the universe in imaginary time, one can calculate the state of the universe in real time. One would still expect some sort of Big Bang singularity in real time. So real time would still have a beginning. But one wouldn't have to appeal to something outside the universe, to determine how the universe began. Instead, the way the universe started out at the Big Bang would be determined by the state of the universe in imaginary time. Thus, the universe would be a completely self-contained system. It would not be determined by anything outside the physical universe, that we observe. 

As is suggested in the final paragraph, he crafted the idea in response to how annoyed he and other cosmologists were at the singularity at the beginning of the universe, and something external to the universe needing to be out there to set things off.

One way to ignore the latter problem (outside of religion) was put forth by people working on string theory, who suggested a universe might be born every time two branes*** within the multiverse accidentally smash into one another.

There are other ideas that involve time - flipped universes, mirror universes (no, not that kind - more like Martin Amis’s Time’s Arrow...or the third act of Doctor Strange, appropriately...where time flows backwards), or a universe that somehow collapses back in on itself and rebounds ad infinitum. 

I don’t know if the Ancient one can send Strange back beyond the birth of this universe, but boy would that be weird if he could.

* The plot of this one is almost nonexistent. A mysterious woman shows up in the present day under some enchantment. Strange has to time travel back to find the source of the magic that sent her here -- this dude named Zota. He’s a baddie, and Strange strips him of his powers and frees a bunch of people before making it back to the present. Turns out the lady is Cleopatra (again), sent here because she didn’t fancy Zota back. Dudes, am I right?

** On the other end is what happens at the ‘death’ of the universe, if such a moment exists. We don’t know how the universe is going to end, but from the current look of things it’ll go forever...but a long while from now we’ll hit maximum entropy and it’ll be on large bowl of lumpless, fundamental particle soup.

The other possible outcome - if dark energy keeps getting stronger - could be what’s dubbed “the Big Rip”, where spacetime itself is torn asunder. With our current observations, such an event would happen an infinitely long time away, but if something drastic happens it could be like 20-odd billion years.

*** I’m not going into that, here. But at the very least, different branes hold parallel universes.

Strange Tales #124 Writer: Stan Lee, Art: Steve Ditko, Ink Geo. Bell