#like depression it is i feel like it gets looked upon as garden variety these days u

[shallowrambles]

But you DO know who is actively blamed for their own illness? For their own corruption? ADDICTS.

Don't overlook the shame of addiction. Also, addiction doesn't discriminate, sure, but the consequences sure as Hell do.

Also there's the stigma and the attitudes:

Rich ppl addictions = "they sure know how to party"

Poor ppl adductions = pathetic, that's why theyre poor...bad choices

Ppl will tell you with a straight face that smokers and drinkers shouldn't be eligible for transplants...or even insurance. "They don't deserve it. They brought this on their self"

Addiction isn't a "noble" illness. Hell, it doesn't even count most of the time in ppl's minds. Even though corporations prey on the vulnerable (mental hospitals, children, you name it) to get them addicted and sicker, ppl blame the users. There's soooo many decades of confirmed predatory marketing, and yet tur lion's share of all the societal blame gets heaped at the feet of their victims.

There are babies born addicted, imprisoned by the choices illnesses of their mothers. Babies can even be damaged through breast milk. These young ppl struggle and often feel freakish.

And the bible can be harsh about chronic illess, treating it as unclean or as indicative of sin, as this skin sore was in Leviticus: "the diseased person must wear torn clothes and let his hair hang loose, and he must cover his mouth and cry out, 'Unclean, unclean!' 46 As long as he has the infection, he remains unclean."

A person or thing could contract ritual "uncleanness" (or "impurity") in a variety of ways: by skin diseases, discharges of bodily fluids, touching something dead ( Num 5:2 ), or eating unclean foods (Lev 11 ; Deut 14 ).

[eevylynn]

You're Good

Sterek || E || Friends to Lovers || 7k wc

“I’m comfortable with my life,” Stiles told Lydia, and he was. He had a job he loved, his pack was safe, and he got to see them regularly. Yeah, there was one thing he would like to change, but there's only so much he can do to change that one thing. Stiles was pretty sure that dating other people wouldn’t help. Or Stiles agrees to let Lydia set him up on a blind date, not realizing who exactly she had in mind.

AN: I realized I never made a full on tumblr post with this..oops!

This was written For L_Grae with the prompts: ~Mutual pining with meddling from the pack. ~Future fic, blind date set up by certain packmates, not realizing Sterek has a FWB agreement already.

Unfortunately, I can't quite write friends with benefits (I gave it a valiant effort, but my brain just couldn't get it right), so I merged the prompts together.

Sterek Valentine's Bingo 2024: Candle

~*~*~*~

Locking the office up with a whistle, Stiles tossed his keys in the air before catching them and shoving them in his back pocket before he turned to walk down the street to the combination coffee and bar that sat a block or so away from his office. He mentally patted himself on the back for that smooth move before abruptly tripping on nothing. Stiles looked around quickly. No one saw that.

That was the one good thing about it getting dark before Stiles even leaves the office at this time. The whole shorter days thing that came with winter coming AND Daylight Savings Time ending at the same time does get somewhat depressing at times, but it’s not like Stiles has never gone around town at night before.

Back in high school, nights were the only times that Stiles could really investigate supernatural happenings what with needing to actually go to school. He always did love a good puzzle to investigate and even contemplated  joining the FBI. However, after botching up his own internship with the FBI, Stiles ended up going to college at Beacon Hills Community College. While still in school, Stiles started a side hustle as a Supernatural Private Investigator, and, upon graduation, he was able to devote his time to his growing business, even opening an office in the slowly reemerging downtown area of Beacon Hills.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the local Beacon County packs, the Nemeton was growing healthily again, bringing positive energies with it, something even the everyday humans could feel. Because of this, more people, both supernatural and human, were moving to town and slowly building up the local economy.

Just the short walk between Stiles’ office and Lunar Lounge, his favorite bar and coffee shop, included a boutique one of Stiles’ old classmates opened, a vegan smoothie shop, owned by a nice family of elves that just moved here a few years back, and a greenhouse bookstore whose owners were always more than happy to provide Stiles with any herbs he needed for potions work after he helped them with a pixie infestation that took residence in one of their personal gardens at their house.

The Lunar Lounge was where many of the Hale pack worked. Open practically 24 hours, it served coffee and breakfast for the morning crowd before transitioning into a pub style bar in the afternoons. In addition to providing human beverages, Lunar Lounge also offered a variety of specialty drinks for the different supernaturals of Beacon Hills, including but not limited to wolfsbane infused homebrews, real bloody marys, and a selection of shimmering, almost ethereal, wines that Peter had procured a vendor for that Stiles was pretty sure was fae, but the wolf refused to confirm or deny that suspicion.

Entering the open double doors, Stiles nodded at Isaac who was behind the bar preparing some fancy pink and yellow monstrosity of a cocktail that was most definitely too sweet for Stiles’ liking.

He crossed the open sea of scuffed wooden tables, dodging a pair of colorful haired women that suddenly blocked his path as they stood up to go who knows where. Reaching the back corner, he found Derek at his usual table that he’d probably been sitting at for the last several hours, hidden from most by a black metal staircase that led to a lofted lounge area. Dark eyebrows furrowed as Derek continued to type on his laptop.

As Stiles plopped down in the seat across from him, Derek glanced up before he said, “I’m almost done. Give me a minute.”

Stiles grinned, “You’re good.” Derek smiled before turning his attention back to the screen.

Continue reading on ao3

[osovereign]

his  smile  withers  to  nothing  ,  right  before  the  young  women's eyes.  how  long  had  it  been  since  kratos  was  seen  as  young  , since  someone  met  his  prose  and  otherworldly  gaze  back  with  its  own?  (  too  long  to  keep  track  and  far  too  long  for  him  to  care  for  the  specifics  ):  weather  the  spoken  tongue  is of  god  or  beast  is  irrelevant:  kratos  can  tell  that  she  ,  too  ,  plays  the  same  part  in  this  play  on  life's  ever  moving  stage  (  in  this  fabrication  upon  fabrication  ):  the  women  is  no  more  ordinary  than  he  and  ordinary  is  a  word  not  used  amongst  his  vernacular  often.  modern  man  would  give  them  wolves  among  sheep  (  a  shepherd  amongst  its  own  herd  ):  devils  in  the  presence  of  heaven  ---  angels  at  the  gates  of  hell  (  they  do  not  belong  here  ):  mayhaps  ,  neither  belongs  anywhere.  what  was  a  coward  made  god?  nothing  more  than  what  still  remained  buried  under  false  holy  skin.  these  where  the  people  that  interested  kratos  the  most  after  living  for  aeons  and  aeons  ---  individuals  that  kept  him  guessing  ,  individuals  that  kept  his  blade  sharpened.

listening  to  her  is  easy  and  following  her  strange  mannerism  is  just  as  well.  once  ,  long  ago  he'd  once  been  like  her:  so  young  ,  so  wild  ,  so  free:  a  knight  who  wanted  to  do  right  by  the  people  and  end  a  thousand  year  war  of  senseless  bloodshed.  but  ,  that  was  how  the  mighty  and  righteous  always  began  (  so  full  of  hope  and  life  and  optimism  ):  the  realities  of  the  world  had  a  knack  for  knocking  one  down.  to  taking  all  emotion  but  grief  and  depression  ---  stripping  any  ability  for  one  to  see  color  ,  for  one  to  hold  any  laughter.  ❝  man  may  always  be  man  young  lady  but  some  do  forge  a  path  beyond.  not  all  that  one  does  is  always  foretold  by  how  they  began.  ❞  it  is  here  that  kratos  crosses  his  arms  over  his  chest  (  to  feel  the  feel  of  his  arms  ,  nothing  more  ): people  that  came  from  the  same  worldview  may  have  boarded  the  same  ship  home  but  both  would  have  the  harbor  as  they  say.  ❝  much  more  than  studied  wisdom  i  can assure.  it  is  no  different  than  an  illiterate  man  learning  to  read  and  do  script  or  a  youth  learning  the  rules  of  the  hunt.  a  piece  of  the  identity  before  will  always  remain.  ❞  it  is  here  that  his  arms  unfold  ,  his  arm  extending  to  pop  itself  on  his  waist  the  same  side  as  his  concealed  blade.

❝  kratos.  ❞  surname  unneeded  and  it  is  here  that  he  hovers  for  a  lingering  moment  ,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  curl  of  her  lashes  then  on  her  smiling  lips  (  her  expression  something  oddly  twisted  ,  a  look  that  vaguely  reminded  him  of  a  mithos  slipped  deep  into  madness  ):  her  voice  was  sugary  sweet  but  still  eerie  ---  seemingly  slithering  like  the  tongue  of  an  unbecoming  garden's  snake  in  eden.  ❝  any  other  details  are  unimportant.  do  these  quirks  of  yours  regularly  get  a  rise  out  of  others?  or  would  this  be  ,  as  you  said:  one  of  many  varieties  of  face  paints  to  wear.  ❞  it  is  more  statement  than  question.  curiosity  make  itself  clear  in  the  dark  of  his  irises  ,  he  moves  a  bit  closer  towards  her  and  his aura  grows  even  grander  (  makes  him  seem  even  taller  ):  casting  a  downward  glare  at  her  self-satisfied  expression.  ❝  i  cannot  say  that  i  have  ,  young  lady.  my  youth  was  spent  during  a  time  of  war  and  not  much  time  for  leisure.  why  make  it  a  game?  why  not  simply  ask  and  i  can  do  the  same.  if  you  do  not  wish  to  answer  ,  you  have  the  right  not  to  speak.  ❞

this man has quite the red hair, you think.

red not like apples, not like roses, not even blood. it's a darker hue; red like rust, like aged wine. it contrasts well with his countenance - a young man, yet too severe in expression to be that young at all. youth, after all, is bursting with liveliness, with inexperience, with a lack of a need to know how to perfectly and eloquently compose oneself.

suffice to say - interesting! this little sojourn already has some color to it.

"Little baring?" you repeat, mimicking the naive innocence of birds as you tilt your head. you proceed to break that impression immediately after with a sharp, amused look. "Yes, how well put. Whoever and whatever and wherever the question - in the end, it doesn't matter much, does it? After all, a person is hardly changed after asking such things. You shall always be you, young man."

a bark of a laugh, short but rough. "But even so, visages can very deceiving, don't you think, Mister? A person shall always be a person, but there's so many varieties of face paints to wear, impressions to cultivate, terms of addressal - you understand, yes? If I'm correct in my guesses, I think you have the wisdom to understand, at least. Though of course! No need to indulge me if you don't feel like it, but—"

you shrug, casual as you lean a little with unrestrained curiosity now. "You could at least offer a name, old man. And I'll be polite and offer one in return. And if you want, we can then part ways here -

"Or, we can play my favorite guessing game in the entire grand universe!" you clap your hands together like some eager seal, grinning so cheerfully, all your sharp and loose and whatever edges are barrelled over yet again. "How about it, Sir Rusty Hair? I for one prefer guessing about people! Names, faces, demeanor, selves, ideals and truths - like a very elaborate game of spin the bottle! You have played some variant of spin the bottle before, yes?"

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

[july-19th-club]

how did you first get into tarot? do you have any advice for someone who wants to learn?

i got into it in college when i was doing a bit of exploring around in terms of what i guess you’d call ‘witchy stuff’ - i’m not super involved in it much at all because like all hobbies there’s lots to dive into and i’ve always been just enough of a skeptic that im never sure if what im doing is working or not (also because as a community at least online, the modern witch zone has some problems with racism and TERF-adjacent ‘woman power’ shit and i am not about a) appropriating cultures i’m not a part of’s magical or spiritual traditions or b) associating with gender essentialists not least bc i dont ahve an essential gender). ALL THAT just to say when i was in college i thought tarot reading might be fun and i bought a cool pack with some artwork i liked, and then was gifted some other decks by friends etc. there are lots of beautiful (very expensive) decks out there - some of the fancy ones can run you like $50-60 easy - but you can get a basic rider-waite deck online for like 20 bucks.

the main thing to keep in mind about tarot is that whether or not you have much of a belief in that certain whatever-you-want-to-call-it (magic? the paranormal? words like that always feel WAY too dramatic to me an ex-catholic wary of anything that smacks of hardcore spirituality way) - your tarot deck is just cards, and it’s essentially an intuition tool. whatever you wind up reading is gonna mostly come from you - your interpretation of the cards, your interpretation of the questions you ask. and sometimes you’ll surprise yourself with the insight you glean off of that and you’ll get that cool uncanny ‘i’m onto something here’ feeling and sometimes you’ll just read a spread distractedly and get nothing out of it and just feel like you’ve wasted your time. either way, it can be a great way to sort out your own thoughts, which is mostly what i use mine for. i guess you could call it mindfulness in a way. when i draw a card and know that it either clarifies my thoughts or doesn’t make any sense for what i’m feeling, both of those answers can be helpful ways to narrow down complicated thought processes. if i’m feeling confident about a decision and i draw “The Chariot” for example, that doesn’t necessarily mean that some outside force is agreeing with me that i should do whatever im about to do. probably nobody else is giving me advice from beyond or influencing the cards i draw. but it does maybe mean that i’m not just tricking myself into feeling confident; it might mean that subconsciously (or consciously) i know i’m on top of whatever i was asking about. for someone with a degree of imposter syndrome, that can really help.

this is turning into a bit of a dissertation and you said you wanted tips, so bear with me :) my main tip is to buy a cheap deck (you can always buy a pretty one later) and to spend time with it. lots of people say that, but it’s like learning any new skill or subject - you’ll be more familiar with it and it’ll be more intuitive if you practice. the deck should come with a little book that tells you the commonly agreed-upon meanings of each card and what suit it belongs to (major arcana are for big themes and questions, minor - suits are wands, cups, coins or pentacles, and swords - are for more everyday garden-variety stuff). the book should also have some spread ideas in the back - by which i mean ways in which to lay out the cards and designate questions to each of them.

a simple spread, for example, might look like this: three cards in a row, which you designate past, present, and future. you could consider the spread broadly - the past encompassing a long time, present encompassing every aspect of your current life, future encompassing everything - or you could do it minutely; this morning (past) right now, and tonight (future). another thing everyone always says is not to be afraid to build your own spreads. if you feel like they’re not working or you’re not putting together any clear insight, you can always adjust them or go back to the ones in the book (if you find those work for you) or look some up online.

few other things i’ve noticed help you to achieve “clearer” results from a reading:

yes or no questions or extremely big, broad categories are troublesome. “how,” “what,” and “why” questions, or questions that allow for open-ended answers, are more likely to help you form a conclusion that makes sense

basically, you know how lawyers ask leading questions? this is NOT like that. if you do a spread full of leading questions, you’re just leading yourself in a circle

i’ve noticed that if i read for the same question over and over again all at once, the cards i flip get more and more nonsensical. either the deck’s getting tired of my bullshit, or i’m losing the ability to coherently interpret what’s in front of me - either way, i think past a certain point there’s no reason to beat a dead horse

^ the above leads me to a tangent which i SWEAR is related, tangent being i just said all that stuff about there not being any outside force directing your readings. still think that’s probably true unless you do spirit work about it on purpose, which i know nothing about and probably never will - but one of my few ‘i’m pretty sure i believe this’ beliefs is a bit of mild animism; the idea that objects as well as creatures have something akin to a soul or a personality. im not sure how distinct or clear or ‘real-in-the-way-that-you-and-i-who-are-living-human-beings-are-real’ those *souls* are, but the few hard and fast i-can’t-explain-it experiences i’ve had have been to do with places that felt like they Had Emotions and objects that felt like they Had Intent. and if you do subscribe to the line of reasoning that everything has a beating heart of *being-ness*, then things you spend lots of time with and interact with will probably come to some kind of understanding with you and/or you will influence each other a bit.

SO when the deck seems to be throwing unrelated cards at me after i start reading for the same thing over and over, or when reading for an anxious topic nets me reassuring cards, or when i truly do start a reading baffled and finish it clarified, the part of my mind that is a little less skeptical imagines that the deck and i, having spent some time together, are capable of maybe, just possibly, reading each other. and that magic is potentially, POTENTIALLY, in a barely tangible way, happening.

last thing: also everyone says this, but it bears repeating: don’t be intimidated by Death; it’s a card of transition really. and don’t let scary readings make you feel intimidated or scared or depressed. your readings are a reflection of your own emotional states and thought processes, and like smart seers in stories like to remind characters all the time, what you see is just one possibility and you have the power to change it if you don’t like what it shows.

[eldritchsurveys]

782.

Have you ever had a computer virus before? >> Nope, never. I don’t know if I’m just especially lucky or what, but I have zero experience with malware, viruses, or any of that.

Are you dependent upon anyone? >> Of course. Everyone’s dependent on someone, even if only indirectly.

Are there any book characters you'd like to portray? >> Like, as an actor in a movie adaptation or something? No, thanks.

Who did you last text? >> I sent Sparrow a bitmoji in response to her text.

Is there anything on your bed right now? >> Yeah, me. Also, an assortment of plushies, two weighted blankets, a hoodie, my phone, and my headphones.

When was the last time you went to the grocery store? >> It’s been a couple of weeks since I personally went. I stopped doing the grocery runs because of the mask rule; Sparrow is way better with wearing masks than I am. What way would you like to die when it's your time? >> As uneventfully as possible, please.

What are you most afraid of in the world? >> Some possible aspects of death. Also, confinement of any kind, like incarceration or being put in a mental hospital.

Have you ever been caving? >> Nope.

Do you do well in math related things? >> I don’t know, I don’t usually do any math-related things aside from the most basic kind.

What is your favorite fruit? >> I don’t have one.

If you had to choose, which sibling would you live with? >> ---

Do you have any tattoos? >> Yes.

Are you planning on getting any in the near future? >> No.

When was your last date? >> ---

When did you get Facebook? >> I don’t remember when I first signed up for it. Probably like 10 years ago or thereabouts.

Are any of your family members in jail? >> ---

What was your first pet's name? >> Roxie.

Are you good when it comes to computer issues? >> I don’t think my skill level at dealing with computer issues is particularly high. I basically just google the problems I don’t immediately know how to solve and try out different solutions, which literally anyone is capable of doing. I think what I’m good at is not having computer issues in the first place, considering every machine I’ve had has performed remarkably well over a pretty decent lifespan (except for Normandy, which just randomly died one day, but I think that was a heat issue and I’ve learned from it).

Are there any people at your job who absolutely hates you? >> ---

What was the last book you read? >> The last book I finished is The Poisonwood Bible.

Have you ever read any books in one day? >> Sure.

What was the last thing you bought? >> A nightstand.

What are your plans for tomorrow? >> I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.

Is there any jewelry you wear constantly? >> Yeah, I never take out my earrings or nose ring.

Are your fingernails painted at the moment? >> No.

Do you prefer cool, warm or neutral colors? >> I like a variety of colours for different reasons.

Have you ever taken art classes? >> Only in grade school and probably junior high.

What's the most boring movie you've ever seen? >> I have no idea.

Do you know how to work a cash register? >> I mean, I could figure it out.

Fact or fiction novels? >> A novel is fiction, period. But if you mean whether I prefer historical and realistic fiction, or fantastic fiction... well, usually the latter.

Have you ever suffered from depression? >> Yes.

Do you think you're a clingy person? >> No, because I’m not.

Do you enjoy kisses on the cheek? >> Not particularly.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? >> Yes, quite a few times.

How often would you say you disagree with your parents? >> ---

What color shirt did you wear yesterday? >> Black.

Do you have a job? If so, do you like it? >> ---

Have you ever been called a slut before? >> Maybe.

What's something you've been craving? >> I’m not really craving anything that I’ve noticed.

Have you ever slept with your window open? >> I sleep with my window open for almost the entire year, actually. Even in winter I have it cracked at night, because I get really hot in my sleep.

Can you play violin? >> No.

What was the last desert you had? >> I don’t remember the last time I had a dessert.

Have you ever had a wild animal as a pet? >> No.

Do you know anyone you talk to on Facebook but won't talk to in person? >> No.

What color are your mother's eyes? >> ---

Do you have a best friend? If so, how long have you been best friends? >> I do not.

Do you cry easily? >> I mean, I don’t think so.

Have you ever been into a court room? >> Yes.

How many necklaces would you say you own? >> I own five necklaces. Soon to be six, when it gets here.

Do you plan on being strict towards your children? >> ---

Do you own any tie-dye shirts? >> Nope.

What would you say is your favorite day of the week? >> I have a particular affection towards Wednesday, but I don’t really have a favourite day of the week.

Do you ever wear lipstick? >> Ever, sure. But not usually.

Do you own a pool? >> No.

Do you have a Tumblr account? >> What’s a tumblr

Would you say you're overweight? >> I wouldn’t.

How many colors are in your hair? >> Well, two that I can see.

Do you flirt with a lot of people? >> I don’t flirt with anyone.

How many bank accounts do you have? >> One.

Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? >> Probably.

How old are you? >> 32.

Do you attend church regularly? >> I don’t.

Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? >> No song can describe my whole life, but there are songs that fit uncannily with certain aspects of my life.

What time did you wake up this morning? >> 7 or so.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow morning? >> I don’t plan for that, I just wake up whenever I feel like it.

What kind of car do you drive? >> I don’t.

What kind of car would you like to have? >> ---

Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what's your favorite thing to eat from there? >> Yeah, I’ve been there, but I don’t have a favourite thing from there. I don’t care for their stuff.

How old did you turn on your last birthday? >> 32...? This is basically just the same question as before, innit.

Ever felt like falling apart? >> Yes.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? >> Yeah.

Do you tend to worry a lot? >> No.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? >> I have no idea.

Do you remember your first time on the internet? >> I only vaguely remember it.

Which website do you email from? >> Gmail.

Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? >> I don’t really receive souvenirs. Which is perfectly fine.

Do you get angry with people easily? >> No.

Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? >> I don’t know if a lot of people dislike me, it’s not like people are often up-front about that sort of thing. I don’t dislike too many people.

Have you ever had the flu? >> No.

What about strep throat? >> No.

What would you say is the worst kind of emotional pain? >> I wouldn’t say, because it makes no sense to me to “rate” pain like that.

Have you ever been to a psychologist? >> Yeah.

What's the worst part about school? >> You know, the whole thing.

Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you're still in school? >> ---

When was your last vacation? >> January.

Would you ever consider going on a cruise? >> I’d consider it.

What did you last buy from the store? >> I haven’t been inside a store in a few weeks.

Would you say you enjoy being single or in a relationship more? >> I wouldn’t say, because that’s not really how it works.

Do you try to stay busy a lot? >> No.

What's your favorite quote? >> I don’t know, man.

Do you lie a lot? >> I rarely lie.

Do you still act childish most of the time? >> No.

Did you ever enjoy gym class? >> The only time I enjoyed it were the semesters I got to take archery.

What is your biggest insecurity? >> I have no idea.

Have you ever painted a room alone? >> No.

Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? >> I didn’t?

What does your favorite jacket / hoodie look like? >> The hoodie I wear the most (aside from the one I just wear around the house) is a New Orleans Museum of Death hoodie.

What's for dinner tonight? >> I don’t know.

Do you ever drink alcohol? >> Yes.

Have you ever had a terrible hangover? >> No.

Do you ever get migraines? >> No.

Do you know how to garden? >> I mean, I generally know how to put seeds in the ground and water them. The specific mechanics of growing specific things are not necessarily known to me, but that’s what the internet is for.

What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? >> Probably my computer charger.

Do people consider you to be a funny person? >> I don’t know, do they?

Do you have any bad habits? >> Of course I do.

Do you like children? If not, why is this? >> I like them fine. At the very least, I respect them as people, even if I can’t stand to be around them for [usually] sensory reasons.

What is your favorite snack? >> I don’t know, I have a few go-tos.

Do you own any gaming systems? >> We have several.

How old were your parents when they had you? >> My father was 52 and my mother was in her early or mid 20s.

Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? >> ---

Do you trashtalk people a lot? >> No.

What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? >> Just... memes. I like memes. Also animals being derpy.

Does the future excite you or scare you? >> It has little to no effect on me, I don’t properly conceptualise the future as a thing.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? >> No.

Do you try to spend a lot of time with family? >> ---

How often do you shower? >> Every couple of days.

What would you say is your favorite genre of music? >> I wouldn’t say. I like a lot of genres.

Do you need to clean your bedroom? >> Yeah. I’m going to finally do it when the new nightstand gets here, so probably Wednesday.

What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? >> You know. Living.

Do you enjoy Chinese food? >> Occasionally. Most of the time I merely tolerate it.

Do you smile a lot? >> I don’t know, what’s a lot?

What is your favorite movie from the nineties? >> Maybe Event Horizon.

Which decade were you born in? >> The eighties.

Are you good at giving advice to people? >> I don’t know, I don’t usually do it.

How many huge secrets do you have? >> Zero.

How many people know these secrets? >> ---

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? >> Once, if that.

Do you ever floss? >> No, it feels horrible.

Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? >> Yes.

Ever considered suicide? If so, did you try to commit suicide? >> Yes and yes.

Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? >> No, I usually do that on my own.

Do you like texting or calling people more? >> I only text.

What's your favorite band? >> Zeal & Ardor is one.

Do you have a lot of friends? >> No.

Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? >> I don’t know, maybe when I was young.

Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? >> Right now, I’d kill to eat somewhere that wasn’t my apartment.

When did you last babysit, if ever? >> ---

Do you have any younger siblings? >> No.

Have you ever thought of someone as useless? >> Not that I can recall. It feels weird to think of people in terms of what “use” they can be to oneself.

Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? >> Yeah, and then I did it.

Do you drink vitamin water? >> Nope. Do they even still sell that? I haven’t seen it in a while.

Do you ever straighten your hair? >> No.

What's the best way to end a conversation? >> I would assume that depends on the nature of the conversation and the depth of the relationship between the participants.

Are there any old movies you absolutely love? >> Of course.

Have you ever had a Big Mac before? >> Yes.

Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? >> The reasonable rate for me is zero, so yeah, I think so.

Where is your favorite place to travel? >> Oh, you know. Almost anywhere.

What is your goal for the next few months? >> I have no goal. Except, I guess, maintaining equilibrium.

Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? >> Yeah.

Do you own a lot of shoes? >> Nope, I own two pairs (and two pairs of weather boots).

What is your favorite season and why? >> Spring. It just is, man.

Does photography interest you at all? >> Not really. I like looking at photographs other people have taken, though.

Have you ever played on a sports team before? If you have, what was that sport and when? >> When I was in school. I tried field hockey and predictably sucked total ass at it. (I say “predictably” in hindsight. I had no concept of my abilities and disabilities back then.)

Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? >> No.

Do you think you're a good singer? >> I think I can hold a tune, but if I was going to be good I would need to practice more and probably get a coach. Fortunately, being “good” at singing isn’t a priority of mine, so I’m perfectly happy just being able to hold a tune.

Would you rather wear jeans or sweatpants? >> Sweatpants, absolutely.

Do you think you have a good sense of style? >> It’s good for me.

Do you enjoy reading often? >> Yes.

Have you ever had a deadly illness? >> No.

Ever had food-poisoning before? >> Yes.

Where did you last eat dinner at? >> On the couch, watching Sparrow play Persona 5.

Have you ever shot a gun before? >> No.

[cowonaverse]

The Great Outdoors

Been thinking about this for a while, needed to process what’s happened.

Initially, like months ago when corona first reared up as a Thing to Contend With - the fear and panic was so strong that it pushed aside my depression and background anxiety completely.  I had something very tangible and concrete to Worry About.  Not only that, there was so much unknown that it seemed conceivably cataclysmic, like... it’s all over and done.  That is still in the mix of possibilities, but it’s much more of a mix these days and not so prominent a conclusion.  But still there.  

Anyway, in a home with another person freaking out who isn’t used to freaking out means managing his reactions first.  Securing the food supply seemed primary.  Starting to grow things at home seemed Important.  What I understand is that this is just seeking agency and control in a time of chaos.  But gestures matter, even to myself.  I am not afraid to do for myself if needed.  I grew up on my Grandma’s farm as a young teen.  I spent a summer as an intern preparing and maintaining bean cultivars for study at Tuskegee University.  I majored in Biology as an undergraduate at the University of Maryland Baltimore County.  I have graduate training within a laboratory setting and can pay attention to such needed details that establish and maintain living systems.

This is what I told myself, at least.  All this experience was well over 25 years ago and I’ve since lived as an artist, teacher and illustrator - basically another lifetime.  But I’m confident in my abilities to make - and make do - with my hands.  On the other hand, Saul is an architect.   He is a designer, not an implementer.   His training produces systems that others then render.  He knows how things should work and why things might fail, but it’s mediated through contractors and clients, and according to building code given to him.  There isn’t much tolerance for the scientific method of inquiry and curiosity, or artistic process.  The buildings have to stand and function, the first time, and every time.

So when confronted with chaos and systemic failures, Saul freaks out.  He was having regular, full-on panic attacks at first.  We fought and argued out of fear and then came back together, clinging again out that same fear.  

What I first recalled was my seventh grade science class, when we germinated beans in damp folded paper towels and then grew them to demonstrate basic botanical processes.  I suggested we go through the house for all whole seeds and try this to see what we can grow ourselves.  In retrospect, this is ludicrous.  Farming a few things from the spice rack is not going to sustain anybody, not to mention a household of two people and three cats.

But you have to recall the upheaval and urgency of those first few days.  Hunkering down and keeping busy with anything that seemed to suggest growth and tomorrow was vital, at least to me.  In some ways it was a relief to have to set aside my own neurotic issues to attend to these little mustard seeds and my partner and my cats.  And as the project grew and developed, this was the initial reward: Doing Something Intentional Towards Tomorrow was useful because it modelled the behavior of resilience and hope.  Even if it wasn’t actually practical, it was a rehearsal for a worldview concerned with survival.

I was still teaching students via online classes and it was useful to tell them what we were doing.  The narrative of growing things in the back bedroom was a good story, for the moment - for that very specific moment.

In the end, now, months later: we are participating in a local farm share with actual farmers who know what they are actually doing to produce actual food.  But by now I’ve learned to can and pickle and preserve things, I can bake and sew my own mask.  Here’s the thing: I dabbled in using my art to address my anxieties and it led me to gaining some small set of skills in a variety of projects.  Skills that now I can use For Real.  But what was always in question was who is it all for.  

What I’ve noticed, at least with Saul, is that he doesn’t initiate and get his hands dirty.  But.  Only at first, once I model behavior and demonstrate that there can be a pattern at work, a way of doing and understanding - then he is able to apply his considerable experience with systems and practicality to get it done right and better.  He saw me making and painting, fumbling around with my works and insights.  Then he tried it, made a body of work, participated in open studios, sold some pieces and was able to articulate his artistry in his own words.  I helped him with that, at first directly, then backing off and continuing on my own things but visibly now with him as a peer.

I started growing things and he looked at me doing that, saw it was possible and started doing it himself.  His plants are thriving and doing much, much better than mine.  I helped him with that when he finally wanted to try, he hasn’t done anything like this before in his life.  My earliest memory is reaching out to eat a cherry tomato in the community garden my parents participated in.  We talked about this while working together to sow some radishes he wants to grow. He said he thought he didn’t have a “green thumb” and avoided trying to grow anything.  His radishes are already out of the ground and happily thriving while mine have long since died off.

I have my accomplishments, but I have just as many failures.  I’m trying to be self-aware about what I’m doing and get help and training as I can.  It does help me feel better, day to day - but what I’m seeing is that it is helping Saul feel like he can do it too.  And when he does, he is actually really good at it.  He saw me sewing my fursuit and trying to apply that understanding to sewing my mask for covid.  A few weeks later, I’m helping him make them and his designs are better and neater and fit.  But I sat with him to go over the different options and we looked at the scientific papers about materials and filters and what covid is and how it works and what a filter is and how they work.  Like, we dug for the primary research.  He wouldn’t think to do that, but I’m not afraid of scientific papers and untangling technical things like that.  But he took all that understanding and made a better system of implementation than what I was able to do.  His masks are the ones we use, mine is an interesting sculptural piece and memento of this time.

My efforts to bake and can things worked at first, but the real success is that it prompted him to get involved and do it better.  What I made in the beginning functioned symbolically as self-sustaining, forward looking effort.  What he is doing now puts actual calories into the body better.

We fight over nuance that doesn’t matter, but the broad rhythm of collaboration has been that I do it first: I show that it’s possible which addresses his fear and pessimism, but then he gains confidence and does it better which addresses my impracticality and romanticism.

I am reminded of what I know to be the great biological divide between human beings: those able to tolerate ambiguity and those who can’t.  This is more fundamental than any other means of sorting and categorizing people.  Certain people have brains that light up for clarity and some light up for vagary.

This is the tension between staying in the cave and leaving the cave.  Speaking in prehistoric terms, the basic tension the human animal first knows upon becoming self-aware is how to deal with it’s own mortality.  Staying in the cave is the known quantity: it’s safe because there are no surprises, all issues are obvious and manageable and contained.  The problem of course is that the cave doesn’t have all the things you need to thrive.  Leaving the cave is the unknown quanity: it’s safe because you can be nimble and adjust freely, taking advantage of chance resources and opportunity.  The problem of course is that outside the cave are predators and dangers and the whole chaotic universe out to kill you.

My first inclination to grow food inside the house was basically Chris falling back to staying in the cave.  But as it turns out, plants still fail, the cat still gets in and trashes the crops, not enough light gets in, seeds are limited, resources run out, all manner of chaos still creeps in and undermines the effort.  So many stories have already been told about this.  Eden does not work, the perfect bubble world does not work.  The Island of Dr. Moreau is a horror story.  It is not particularly insightful for me to realize that locking things down to a controlled interior system is impossible or festering and that some tolerance for calamity has to happen for life to thrive.  I was worried about the New England weather wrecking things outside, but our radiator kicking on too high did the same thing.  I was worried about squirrels getting at our food, but our cat did the same.  I’m worried about advertising resources in a racist malignant society during the end times of social collapse and mass hunger, but our neighbors are also properly growing crops in their backyard as are many other houses on our street (and have for years), and our home is right up against an elementary school that also has a happy garden in view from our kitchen.

I was worried so much about the chaos outside that I was blind to the obvious truth that there is chaos inside as well.  The point is that it’s all part of the same messy thing.  Inside the cave and outside the cave are the same.  There is no inside or outside, and that is the point.  At least outside, the plants can get much more sun and so can I, the rain and weather are cooperating.  I had to learn that I don’t actually grow anything, the plants grow themselves, I just have to witness and shepherd that activity, but it’s already gonna do what it needs to do if I let it.

So much about art making seems to be about demonstrating control: over technique, over materials or concept, over a viewer or critic, over a political narrative.  But once you exhaust the resources in the cave, you have to go out and risk and be surprised and find new caves and new vistas and so on.  And it’s not because you know you’ll be safe, but because that is never possible to know.  What I’m learning is to go with another and to sincerely make that effort important and sufficiently rewarding itself.

It is just nicer now outside on the back porch.  The plants that were struggling inside are all booming now.  The wind is nice.  Seeing Saul’s plants pop up and surpass mine are nice.  It’s heading into summer and everything is warm and radiant.  I can hear sirens in the distance and the news is still the news and autumn and winter are right there on calendar, but I’m making my art, learning as I go.  I’m also aware that I’m not unique in any of this, other people have been doing this exact stuff and that’s comforting when I need to feel aligned with others and social.  When I need to look into myself and address my particular quirks I can do that too.  

 The food is better these days.  

[cherry-valentine]

Spring 2020 Anime:

Kami no Tou is one of my favorites this season. It’s unique in that it’s based on a Korean web comic rather than a Japanese manga or light novel. This gives it a different feel than most anime. The series centers on a massive tower that, when climbed, will grant a wish. Only the strongest warriors can hope to climb the tower, and even attempting it requires passing several grueling tests. The protagonist, Bam, initially enters the tower to find his friend Rachel, but ends up joining a team of three to climb the tower together. For the majority of the first episode’s runtime, I wasn’t really into this series and was pretty sure I wouldn’t watch anymore. It had a pretty vague opening that left me underwhelmed. But just before the episode ends, we get a really awesome sequence that sets the tone for the rest of the series, and I was hooked. The tests to climb the tower are surprisingly brutal, with frequent deaths until the cast is whittled down to the main players. The core group of characters is made up of a refreshing variety, with plenty of badass ladies. The main team of three are all likable. I honestly thought I wouldn’t like the lizard-like Rak very much, but he grew on me very quickly. The art is great, rarely going off model. The animation quality is pretty good and the design work is fantastic. The opening and ending themes are among my favorites this season. Probably my favorite new series of the season.

Kakushigoto covers several types of series all in one. It’s a comedy at its core, with a focus on quick skits and gags. It’s also adorable and heartwarming, following a single father named Goto raising his young daughter, Hime. The hook of the series, and the source of most of the comedy, is that Goto is a manga artist who draws “ecchi” manga (when I first read the description, I had something else in mind, but it turns out he just makes silly, slightly perverted gag manga) and he’s desperate to hide this fact from his daughter, so he pretends he’s a regular “salary man”. His interactions with Hime are so sweet and wholesome, it really makes you just sigh and say, “Awww!” However, the series also covers another type of anime: the tearjerker. The scenes talking about Goto’s dead wife are almost hard to watch, as it’s very clear that losing her was incredibly painful for him, but he had to move on quickly for his daughter’s sake. There are little things, like the fact that the wife apparently prepared boxes for Hime to open at every age containing things she thought Hime might need or want at each age (and it looks like she prepared boxes for Goto as well!), that make it hard to stay dry-eyed while watching. There are also scenes taking place several years later, involving a teenage Hime, that imply some extremely heartbreaking things I’d rather not think about. Basically, any given episode will have you gushing over the cuteness, then laughing hysterically, then crying and batting away some dark and depressing thoughts. The art has a very unique style. To be honest I’m not entirely sure if I like it or not. The colors and backgrounds are lovely, but some of the character designs are a little... odd. In particular, Hime is probably the least cute “young daughter” type character I’ve seen in anime. Something about the way her face is drawn is just... off. Oh well, might be good for warding off the gross perverts who might be watching the show for all the wrong reasons (it’s anime, so I suspect the worst). The music is perfect, with the best ending theme of the season (seriously go watch it, right now! It’s a true visual delight with an amazing song to go with it). Highly recommended unless you have no soul.

Kaguya-sama Love is War Season 2 was something I was looking forward to very much. I enjoyed season one way more than I expected to, and so far season two is just as good. The series follows two highly intelligent but extremely awkward students at a fancy private school who are in love with each other but each is trying to force the other to confess their feelings first. It’s a genuinely funny comedy that also captures the feeling of being in love with someone but being too shy (or too prideful) to tell them. Season two introduces a couple of new characters who, in my opinion, aren’t super interesting but thankfully aren’t around enough to wear out their welcome. This is one of those shows where no actual progress can ever be made, because if these two characters actually get together, the entire premise of the show falls apart and there’s no reason for it to keep going. Despite that, the show continues to be funny and entertaining, and it’s consistently well done, from the art to the writing to the music.

My Life as a Villainess is one of the quirkier “isekai” series out there. It follows a modern teenage girl who suddenly dies and is reborn in the world of her favorite otome game. The catch is that, instead of being born as the lovely heroine that all the guys fall in love with, she’s born as the villain, Catarina, who makes life hell for the heroine and, in every route in the game, ends up either dead or exiled. Upon realizing this, Catarina decides to do everything in her power to avoid these potential fates. This mostly amounts to her being nice to everyone (especially the game’s heroine, whom she meets in this world’s equivalent of high school) and trying to improve both her magic power and her fighting skills so she can defend herself, as well as learning to grow food in a garden so she can feed herself after being exiled. The show’s true (and obvious) twist is that everyone (regardless of gender) ends up falling in love with Catarina. It’s actually a pretty nice message, that people won’t automatically love you, but if you work on improving yourself and be genuinely kind to others, people will gravitate to you. The series is actually really funny and overall light-hearted. It’s particularly amusing if you’ve ever played an otome game and are familiar with the tropes. The art is nice, if a little generic, and the music is fine. Not my favorite this season but certainly worth a watch, especially since the season grew a bit dry a few weeks in.

Major 2nd Season 2 is a baseball anime sequel to the series Major, which I really want to watch (but is clearly not required for enjoying this one). In the second season, protagonist Daigo (the son of the previous series’ protagonist) is now a second year in middle school, and is the captain of the team after most of the third years quit. Almost all of his team mates from the first season have split up and gone to other schools, but Sakura, one of the few girl players, is still on his team. It’s interesting to me that the majority of Daigo’s team is made up of girls, to the point that other teams have a tendency to underestimate them. I didn’t even realize that in middle school, teams could be mixed like this. It’s actually refreshing, as the girls are very skilled (Daigo points out very early on that the girls follow the exact same training regimen as the boys). In fact, the girls in general are much more talented than the boys (Daigo himself even gives up his position as catcher to a first year girl who proves she has more skill than he does). It’s just really nice that these are good players, not “good for a girl”. Another fun aspect of the series is the fact that previous teammates from season one are popping up as opponents in season two. The animation is fine and the music is good. If you like baseball at all, this is the show for you. If you like sports anime in general, give it a shot. It doesn’t really have that “lots of hot guys who are super close with each other” vibe that most sports anime has, so keep that in mind. 

There were a few others I was watching that had to be put on hiatus due to the pandemic. Since I only watched three or four episodes of them, I’ll wait and do write-ups for them once they resume.

EDIT: Added Major 2nd Season 2 because it resumed airing.

Carry Over Shows From Previous Seasons: Black Clover (now on hiatus) Ahiru no Sora

Best of Season: Best New Show: Kami no Tou Best Opening Theme: Kami no Tou Best Ending Theme: Kakushigoto Best New Male Character: Goto (Kakushigoto) Best New Female Character: Catarina (My Life as a Villainess)

[hellsbovnd]

days gone by.

wc: 1380

focus: rosemund blackthorne (IT KEEPS HAPPENING)

thanks to @ilsabard​ for the title prompt suggestion!! this might not be entirely like, coherent--being written in multiple sessions--but i love writing inner monologues...

[ PDF MIRROR ]

Snowflakes drifted down gently from the sky, the morning sun unable to pierce through the cloudcover. It cast the city of Ishgard in uniform shades of gray. Ishgard often went without the warmth or light of the sun these days---Rosemund didn't make a habit of tracking the weather, but every time the clouds retreated and the sun was allowed to peek out he found himself counting his blessings.

His breath, warm, turned to fog in the air with every exhale, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he traded a meandering sort of path through the pillars. His head was killing him---an unfortunate consequence of waking up sober and deciding that he should give his body a break from the wine for at least until the churchbells tolled noon. But with the ache came clarity, the sort that Rosemund found in short supply in his life these days---these gray, troublesome days.

Walking through the streets of Ishgard early enough that hardly anyone else was about, not in armor but in plainclothes, was a bit of a strange feeling. There were guards, of course---Temple and House Knights unlucky enough to pull the straw for the graveyard shift, most of whom were eagerly waiting for the next shift to arrive so that they could go home to their families and then---more like than not---crawl into bed. But there were no merchants, no strolling noblewomen or maids running errands or airship pilots on their way to the landing or short strings of highborn children walking in strict lines, following their tutors to church or on some other sort of outing to get them out of their parents' hair for the day. There was just the breeze, the snow, and the quiet.

And, of course, Rosemund.

Before the Calamity, when the climes of Ishgard were somewhat fairer, Rosemund would often take walks like this to clear his head, just as he'd often spend time out in his mother's old garden. Were it not for the Calamity, it would have been spring now. The flowers would be blooming---it would have been a sight to behold. There were still some blooms these days, of course---now that all of the plants dotting Ishgard's streets had been replaced with varieties hardier to the harsh Coerthan winters. But it was nothing like before.

Nothing was like before.

Nothing would ever be like before.

Not within his lifetime, at least.

His feet carried him often enough to the park situated one layer under the Last Vigil, a tunnel of stone cutting through it to provide a short, easy path between the Tribunal and the Cathedral. The shrubs and grass was bound in rime, turning it from a bright green to a sort of gray-blue color that was just close enough to the rest of the city's scenery to be depressing, but not quite close enough to blend in completely. He took a seat on a bench that had been but recently donated to the park as a show of good will from the noble houses that worked to support the Restoration effort. (It had a plaque denoting who had donated it, but Rosemund didn't bother to give it a second glance.)

He always found himself on the Tribunal side, although the side that faced the Cathedral would doubtlessly have the better view. Although Rosemund neglected to attend mass for the most part these days, the cathedral's architecture and the large, arching windows of stained glass scenes and symbols were among Ishgard's pride and joy. It was a focal point of Ishgardian culture even now that the Dragonsong War was over; while the Church no longer played any role in state affairs and it was marginally more acceptable to criticize the church in light of the lies that were unearthed in the War's final days, it wasn't simple work to change people's way of life.

Most of Ishgard's highborn were still pious, Fury-fearing men and women; most of Ishgard's knights and soldiers were, too. It was easier to stomach the lies when you were the ones who benefitted from them, when you were told that you were born more well-off than others because of some innate quality of being better. Even Rosemund had held that to be true before he found himself turning from the Church's teachings---because if the Church could be wrong about his father, what else could they be wrong about? Would the Fury truly approve of executing an innocent man?

Rosemund still didn't have a proper answer to that question.

He ran his thumb idly over his forearm, where his soul crystal rested, held fast to his skin by tightly-wound bandages. Some sort of soothing gesture, maybe, as the crystal burned into his flesh at the thought of his father---only to subside as his head cleared. He took a breath, let it go. There was no bringing back the dead.

The best he could do, really, was see to it that the dead were remembered. His father---others who had died deaths like him. And, as much as Rosemund hated to admit it---------

He remembered each of his victims. Perhaps not in the way that they would have liked to be remembered, but he he remembered them nonetheless; their crimes, the sight and smell of their blood. They were the truly abhorrent members of Ishgardian society---those who would prey upon the weak---and their deaths were in the name of justice. But even with fifteen years of work leaving his dreams blood-stained, Ishgard never seemed to be getting any cleaner. At most it bought a few moons of the illusion that things had improved before someone else would simply appear to replace whatever monster he'd put to the blade.

His breath left him with a shudder, his hands balling into fists in his pockets. 'Fury, how can you even think like that? This is not work you are supposed to enjoy.'

If Rosemund was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure that the man he was before he'd found his soul crystal (wrapped with care, like a gift, and placed gingerly in his mailbox one faithful summer night, the year he'd turned twenty, for him to find in the morning) would recognize much of who he'd become. Training to become a Temple Knight alongside Lazarus and Zarioux felt like a lifetime ago, and while he was glad that they could pick up from where they left off so easily after so many years apart he couldn't help but wonder if they could see through his facade and see what havoc the years had wrought on who he was fundementally. He woke up some mornings disgusted at his reflection---there was a good reason why he did not keep mirrors around his house anymore.

Back then, Rosemund never would have dreamed of taking another man's life---unless it was in service to another. He never wanted to be a hero like Zarioux. He still didn't want to be a hero, didn't consider himself one; he was nothing more than a judge and jury. He wished that he had his life as well-managed as Lazarus, though if Alaire was to be believed...

'What would I do about it? If what he said was true?'

He let his eyes slip closed, turning his gaze to the heavens. He didn't have the answer to that question either.

Rosemund had ever been the sort of person to take things as they came, only enough foresight put into his crimes that he could continue to carry out judgement on those he deemed evil. Almost all of his actual murders were premeditated well in advance. As appealing as it was, he couldn't let himself succumb to the rage that roiled beneath the surface; there was too much at stake if he------

He gritted his teeth at the thought. If he lost control, he'd already asked Zarioux to put him down. Wasn't that insurance enough?

How he wished he could indulge in the same rose-covered veneer of days gone by that others could. Noblemen and -women could spend bells and bells reminiscing, but what did Rosemund have left? There was nothing in his life that the darkness could not touch.

Perhaps, then, his only option was to look forward.

That'd have to be enough.

[hungline]

north star, point me true

pairing: namseok genre: fluff, mild angst, modern fantasy au, rated pg13  warnings: depression words: 1709 

summary: Sometimes you just don’t have to wish upon a star. Sometimes, all you need is a magical man with dimples and a comforting smile.

⇢ day six of namseok week 2018 

This is ridiculous, is the only thing Hoseok can focus on as he raises his hand to knock on the wooden door in front of him.

This was Seokjin's idea ー not his ー because apparently Hoseok really needs the help.

Not like Hoseok actually agrees with him, but he's a little desperate so he finds himself here anyway.

Still, he's really here because Seokjin had said the man who lives here is a fallen star who grants wishes.

The house is a quaint thing, small and old, with a white wooden door and burgundy tiles. There are a variety of flowers in the front yard and Hoseok is relieved just by the sight of them.

At least whoever lives here will actually have a grasp on gardening.

There's a candle on the porch, burning brightly despite the early morning and Hoseok stares at it for a while, feeling entranced. From beyond the door, in the house, there are the sounds of cooking, pots and pans clinking, cutlery clanging and someone moving about the kitchen, making all that noise. He breathes out, steadying his nerves and then.

He knocks, slow and careful ー wary of getting splinters from the door ー and then he waits.

A loud clang sounds out from the kitchen, a pot being set down too hard and a muffled curse but then there's hurried footsteps as someone rushes to answer the door. Hoseok doesn't actually know what to expect, but a man smiling wide to show off his dimples isn't what he expected.

The man has blonde hair swept back and away from his face, making his features the main point of his appearance. He only wears pajama bottoms, his chest bare and Hoseok stares.

There's just so much skin that it's hard for Hoseok to focus on much else. He blinks and only sees a chest, barely any hair growing on it and a small happy trail near the front of his bottoms. It's mouthwatering, to say the least.

The man is still smiling when Hoseok recovers himself enough to look up, but his face is now more noticeably flushed and there's a shy sentiment hidden in his gaze. Hoseok gulps and tries for words, forgetting what to say now that he's suddenly facing this gorgeous man.

“Um,” Hoseok mumbles out, his ears feeling warm.

The man steps aside so that Hoseok can see the inside of his house and motions for Hoseok to enter, still smiling. “I’m Namjoon. You can come in if you want.”

Hoseok ducks his head and stamps his feet on the mat, cautiously stepping inside. “Thank you. My name’s Hoseok.”

Namjoon closes the door behind him, but Hoseok doesn't think any odd of it as he goes even further into Namjoon’s house. “Give me a moment to put something more presentable on.”

“You can just stay like that. Whatever makes you comfortable, this is your home after all,” Hoseok spits out, his face aflame with a feeling he isn't ready to admit to yet.

Namjoon laughs, flushing even darker but sits down on the couch, motioning for Hoseok to do the same. “Would you like to join me for breakfast? I was just in the middle of making it.”

Hoseok is about to decline when his stomach growls and he frowns down at it, confused about why he'd be hungry again when he ate before he came here. Namjoon chuckles and stands up, wordlessly telling Hoseok to follow him into the kitchen. And he follows, half-expecting to find a bubbling cauldron on the fire, but instead, there's only a normal stovetop keeping the newly made scrambled eggs and bacon warm.

Namjoon serves them quickly, setting two plates down on the table and then disappearing down the hall, reappearing only a moment later with a shirt on.

(Hoseok quietly bemoans the loss of his amazing view while Namjoon pretends not to notice.)

They eat then, Hoseok’s stomach quickly becoming full as Namjoon sets out french toast on the table, along with glasses of milk. Good food and a good mood is Hoseok's motto in life and Namjoon is definitely fulfilling it right now.

When they're done, Namjoon ushers Hoseok into the living room then goes back to the kitchen to put their plates in the sink and wipe down the table before he returns and takes a seat in the armchair. Hoseok fidgets on the couch, playing with his fingers as an awkward feeling begins to engulf him.

“So,” Namjoon starts steadily, his expression calm and open, reigning in a nervous and fidgety Hoseok. “What is the reason for your visit today?”

Hoseok looks down at his hands, eyes following the way his nimble fingers move. “Iーuh, I was told you were the person I had to see if I had a wish.”

“That is correct.” Namjoon nods and smiles again, his dimples wrinkling his cheeks. “So then, you have a wish, don't you?”

“Yeah, um,” Hoseok hesitates, biting his lip as he mulls over his words. “Er, so I-I’ve been trying to grow a garden in my backyard for a year now butー”

“But you've been unsuccessful so far?” Namjoon asks, still smiling when Hoseok nods shyly. “Ah. That won't be a problem, but. I’m sure you were informed about my fee?”

Hoseok nods, chancing a look up and automatically smiling when he sees Namjoon’s wide grin. “A secret for a wish. Right? That's what Seokjin told me.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up at the mention of the older man’s name, his smiling growing even larger with excitement. “Seokjin sent you? How has he been?”

“Good, he's been good,” Hoseok replies automatically, feeling a little warmer now that they're on an easier subject. “He had the flu a little while ago, but I made sure that he rested and took his medicine so that he could get better. So he's fine, thank you for asking.”

“That's great to hear,” Namjoon says, all dimples and smiles. Then he pauses and tilts his head carefully, his grin a little more subdued now. “So. Your garden. What kind of secret would you be willing to trade to get it?”

Hoseok blinks rapidly, trying to think of a secret that might be good enough. “What kind of secret would you accept?”

Namjoon taps his chin thoughtfully, mulling over whatever is running through his head and Hoseok begins to sweat as he waits for a response. “Any kind. Something not even Seokjin knows, perhaps?”

Hoseok swallows, the perfect secret springing to his mind immediately as soon as Namjoon had finished speaking. His hands begin to shake, but Namjoon is a perfect stranger who grants wishes and treated Hoseok to breakfast. Telling him this won't kill him, after all.

So he steadies himself and wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs, braving a look back up to meet Namjoon’s eyes. Namjoon's gaze is inviting and secure, wordlessly promising to take whatever secret Hoseok spills to the grave and that's all the reassurance that Hoseok needed.

“I’m depressed. Clinically, I mean. I see my therapist once a week and I might start taking antidepressants soon too, but I’m unsure of that at the moment. I haven't told anyone, I feel like they just won't understand or they'll start avoiding me like the plague. I don't know, I just. Whenever I think of telling Seokjin, I get scared because I feel that he just won't understand and will only give me pity instead of the support that I need. And I know that it's shitty of me to think so badly of my best friend, but he has his life going for him and I don't. We're too different sometimes that I just don't feel ready to tell him anything yet,” Hoseok says in a rush, his chest feeling lighter and lighter as he continues to speak all while Namjoon stares at him. “I want a garden because flowers make me happy and if I gain even just a little piece of happiness throughout my day by looking at my garden, then maybe it’ll be easier for me to fight this. I'm grasping at straws right now because I have no idea what might or might not happen, but if I just had stick ー if I just had a stick, I know I could keep on going.”

Silence accompanies them when Hoseok finishes speaking, but he never once lets his gaze falter and Namjoon doesn't look away either. They stare into each other's eyes for what feels like a millennium and only a few seconds at the same time. It's a little disorienting, but Hoseok will persevere.

Namjoon is still smiling, but it's smaller and more of a comfort than an invitation now and his eyes are watery, but when he blinks, the glaze is gone and there's determination taking its place. Hoseok doesn't even realize that he's leaning forward until his hand slips on his knees and he almost falls face first into the coffee table. Namjoon laughs, which causes Hoseok to laugh nervously and then they're staring at each other again.

“When you get home, water your garden. Come spring, you'll have flowers,” Namjoon whispers between them.

Hoseok nods, not knowing what to say, but it's very clear that he's being dismissed.

He stands and bids his farewell, even shaking Namjoon's hand once he’s at the door. Namjoon smiles at him, waving from his front door as Hoseok gets into his car.

It isn't until he's turned the car on that Namjoon yells something, a piece of advice that Hoseok can barely hear over the roar of his engine. But he smiles anyway and nods, waving back at the magical man.

He drives home, still thinking of Namjoon waving at him from his door, yelling out words that Hoseok didn't know he needed to hear.

When he gets home, he waters his garden and coos at the plots of soil, still thinking of Namjoon’s smile and his dimples. Of his warmth and security. His delicious food. Namjoon.

When he goes to bed later that day, it's with Namjoon still echoing in his mind.

  I think you should tell Seokjin.

          When spring comes, Hoseok’s garden is in full bloom ー as is Hoseok’s relationship with Namjoon.

[dabblinginmarvel]

Fluffy/Fave Fics Masterlist

(Mostly) fluffy fics for comfort post-Avengers movie. (Mostly a list of my favorites, too.)

This has self-promotion written all over it, and I have no regrets.

Warnings: Does include Infinity War spoilers in a few.

Bruce Banner

The Tiger

Reader goes to Bruce for advice on their own inner beast.

Age Gap

Bruce has a crush on you, but you’re a few years younger than him.

Bucky Barnes

The Bookworm

Reader loves reading books and is reading some books in English so she can better her bilingual skills. Bucky is there to help with words.

ComiCon

Bucky attends ComiCon and meets you.

The Real Thing (Part 2)

You meet Bucky again, but outside of the con.

Halloween Hatter

Bucky’s crush on the reader becomes obvious when a Halloween party accident happens. (gets a bit steamy)

Mission Training

Reader is training for missions with Bucky and Tony.

Plums

Reader bumps into Bucky at the supermarket.

Clint Barton

The Best of Friends

Platonic!Clint and reader prank Tony.

Cheer Up

Clint takes care of the reader after a physical fight on a mission.

Lost (Word Prompt)

A roadtrip with Clint gets you both lost.

Loki Laufeyson/Odinson

Choose Me

Loki gets jealous at a party.

Clocks

When you met your soulmate, you didn’t know it was him. Your clock hadn’t stopped – but his had. Maybe the universe had decided that you both weren’t ready to be together, but he deserved to know who it would be when you both were.

Dear Y/N

Imagine Loki chooses the Infinity Stone over you.

Escape

You’re stuck on the refugee ship when Thanos comes by and all hell breaks loose. Loki is insistent you stay hiding.

Frigga’s Garden

Loki returns to the coordinates of Asgard after Ragnarok and is surprised to find something there that warms his heart.I Have You Now

May I Come In

Loki comforts a depressed reader.

Prompt 35

Loki doesn’t like you’ve been keeping secrets from him and is hurt by it.

The Soul World (includes Endgame predictions in a post-Infinity War viewing)

Reader sacrifices themselves to the Soul Stone to find Loki after Thanos is defeated.

Stronger Together

Loki arrives in Asgard before his brother and hurries to evacuate you, but gets caught up in the search for Hofund, Heimdall’s sword to open the Bifrost.

Peter Parker

Alternatively….

A short story where a villain opens up a portal to another dimension and you and Peter meet your actor counterparts.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Feather

Reader works hard to keep up with life, but when your parents think you don’t do enough, Peter is there to remind you that you are.

Titan

After the events at the end of Infinity War, Peter and the Reader are worried they will never see each other again.

Pietro Maximoff

Soulmates (Pietro)

Reader is a nurse who helped Pietro heal after Sokovia.

Sam Wilson

On Your Left

Reader is a runner in New York City and says what Steve says during a jog. Sam gets upset before realizing he isn’t yelling at Steve.

Support

Sam works at a veteran support center and you, the reader, walk through the doors. You turn out to be a challenging case, but Sam refuses to give up on you.

Trust in Me

Sam goes in search of a vigilante superhero and tries to recruit them to the Avengers team.

Stephen Strange

A Strange Disaster

Wong teases Stephen about his feelings for you.

College Tears

Stephen cares for the reader when he finds out how bad college is stressing you out.

He’s a Terrible Flirt

Stephen informs you that you just missed Thor’s visit and you can tell the little green-eyed monster is not far away from him.

Steve Rogers

Artist

You find out that Steve has been sketching you.

Complicated

Steve tries a variety of different looks to attract the reader based upon what the Avengers say you like in a guy.

Confession

Steve has a crush on you that gets even stronger when he sees you defending Bucky to your brother Tony.

Decide

Steve and reader struggle to find matching Halloween costumes.

I Missed You

Reader has gone on a mission with Thor. Upon returning, you learn that Steve has been a sourpuss the whole time you were gone.

No Time For Us

An attempt to spend the day together drives you and Steve crazy because you’re doing everything but spending it together - you can thank the team for that.

Prompt 5

The Avengers are playing hide and seek and Steve found your hiding spot. It’s so good that he decides to hide with you.

Secret Admirer

You have a secret admirer leaving you flowers and notes every day.

Test Flight

Reader always helps Tony with suit modifications and test flights. One day, one of the suits crash and Steve accidentally lets slip that he has a nickname for you out of panic, despite your quick-healing powers.

T’Challa

With Your Permission

You and T’Challa have been rivalries since childhood, but something’s changed recently.

Thor Odinson

A Most Noble Warrior

Every day, people make fun of the reader for something that Thor admires: a biracial heritage. So, Thor tags along on a lunch run one day in an attempt to make the reader feel better.

Tony Stark

Adore (Word Prompt)

Tony admits he adores the Reader.

Do You Really Have To Go?

Prompt: Do you really have to go?

Powers and Nightmares

Reader can predict the future, but has been having nightmares and can’t differentiate between fact and fiction.

Strong

Tony and Bucky do their best to alleviate some of the reader’s struggles with depression.

Vision

Left Behind

After another attempted Earth invasion, a young Child of Thanos – you – gets left behind and the Avengers take you in to interrogate. Peter and Shuri take a liking to you and you form a special friendship with them.

Wanda Maximoff

I Found You

Wanda comes to find the Reader in the Soul World.

- - -

Feel free to ask me to add more to this list if you have a favorite that you want on here!

[saeranlover]

Road to Paradise - Chapter 1

Here’s the angst-fic I mentioned yesterday, I believe? I’m trying to get myself to write more, just so I can adjust and become more open to writing some things...

So, this is basically an idea which I had based on the prologue of ‘Another Story’ from when I went through it the other day.

It’s going to be a Ray/Saeran x MC fic, with slight hints of V x MC at times. And I’m serious - this fic is likely to be very angst filled at times. Also a slight warning for implied death...

Anywayyyyy here’s the fic on AO3, and here’s the first chapter here~!

“Ray, he is…. Such a sweet child. So happy, so caring, so loving… And unfortunately, so dedicated… You have heard of the woman which he selected to become our mole within the RFA, yes? Well, I believe he has quickly become infatuated with her… I requested that she be sent to my former apartment to converse with my old friends, but he over-wrote my decision using his will… He had a variety of rooms set up for her here, in paradise...How will that make the other believers feel, seeing a non-believer getting such preferential treatment from dear, sweet Ray? I believe we must show Ray that though he has power here… He cannot overwrite me. He will ask you to collect that woman soon… And this is what I would like you to do...”

“Yes, my saviour...”

It was weird… Somewhat out of the blue, you had been asked to be a tester for a new game, set to be released in a few months down the line. Now, it was definitely suspicious, especially with the fact that the person making the request of you knew your name… But at the same time, you were intrigued. You wanted to know if this was something genuine, something which you would have regretted if you never went along…

Plus, the person you had spoken to… His voice was soft, sweet… Welcoming and comforting. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was merely a tone to lure you in, but… you still wanted to know about this game. As a precaution though, if this man was not who he seemed, you were prepared… Pepper spray to the eyes would give you a few minutes to escape if it was bad, right?

As you sat on a bench outside the park, a black car pulled up beside you, and you could only gulp. The driver got out, introduced himself, before saying that he was there to collect you. Warily, you listened and entered the car…

Though the sleep mask which you had to wear at times did put your senses on high alert, and heightened your suspicions.

After a short while of thinking about it, you began to start regretting listening to the man asking for you to test the game… It seemed scary at the moment, as you didn’t have to wear the sleep mask right now, but through the window you could see thick foliage and a mass of trees… Oh god, don’t people get murdered in places such as this?!

“I- I want to get out- I’ve changed my mind, I want to-!”

“It is too late. You have been chosen, and you are to be used to punish Mr Ray for disobedience.”

The monotonous nature of the driver’s voice made you begin to panic, and his words made you fear for your life. In a brief moment of not even thinking, you unfastened your seatbelt and dived for the car door to your left. Just before you could open it, the click of the button echoed through the car. The driver had the power. He had locked the doors. You were prisoner inside the car.

Oh, and he was accelerating the vehicle. It was almost out of control-!

“No!” Tears were streaming down your face as you hopelessly struggled to kick and punch the door open, but that was when you watched the driver let go of the wheel… Reach for a weird drink which was resting in the car’s cup holder… And pour it down his throat.

“Do not resist… This is all for eternal paradise...” And after that, the driver started coughing and choking. The car was swerving. You were sobbing. The driver… fell limp.

Oh god, had he killed himself with whatever was in that drink?! No no no-!

Suddenly, the car made one final swerve as it went over a pothole in the road… And the last thing which you remembered was a sudden crushing pain in your legs, and a dull yet sharp pain as your head collided with… well, you didn’t even know. You were unconscious before you could even realise what had properly happened…

“Now, I must make one last adjustment… She should arrive soon...” Ray whispered to himself, after rearranging a small vase of flowers upon a coffee table in the room which he had set up for you. He was more than proud of the area which he had created purely for you, and a mysterious feeling which made his heart race took over his chest every time he had that thought. “Right… Where is that soft pillow which I wanted to put on her bed...”

With a slight hum in his throat, and a skip in his step, he went over to a small box beside the door and picked up the pillow which was inside it. “There it is… And now, all that I need to do is-!” Ray stopped what he was doing and dropped the pillow at a loud noise outside, a slight distance into the forest surrounding Mint Eye building. He glanced towards the window, and tilted his head in confusion.

A large pillar of smoke was coming out from the trees...What had happened?

Moments later, the door to the room opened, and Ray’s eyes widened at the reflection which he spotted in the window. “My saviour… Do you know what is happening? Is somebody attempting to attack our paradise out there…? The lady which was meant to investigate the RFA is due here any time soon, and I want her to be safe...”

“Oh Ray… I have come here about that, actually… We believe that the driver which we sent… Was disloyal to our paradise. We only found out when it was too late that he wanted to interfere with our plans to bring an outsider and non-believer here...” The saviour approached Ray as his entire body froze and began to tremble. “Ray… We tried to intercept him… But she was in the car when he crashed it. She… She is dead in the car’s wreck.”

“Wh- What…? No-!” Panic and anxiety overwhelmed Ray as he grabbed at his head, and began to shake it frantically. Somebody who was meant to help him had abandoned him… A- Again-!

With tears streaming down his eyes, he bolted out of the room and had only one thing on his mind...He had to find your body… He had to recover it, and give you a dignified burial… At the heart of the flower garden would be a wonderful place for you to rest in peace…

Ray paid no mind to the confused stares of disciples as he ran through the halls, shedding his blazer and cravat as he went… He had to get to that car before it completely burned up, and any chance he had to recover what was left you went-!

Unfortunately, he knew exactly where he was going due to the smell of burning oil and petrol becoming more present in the air surrounding him. Then… He reached the burning wreck of the car. He had to cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve because the smell and smoke was just so repugnant, and what’s more, he couldn’t tell if the smoke was making his eyes water, or if it was him trying not to cry.

You had seemed like such a wonderful woman, and he had… He had really wanted for you to be a friend of his! One of those close friends which he could do anything with, and say anything to!

As he sank to his knees though, he noticed a shadow appear from some trees to his right. He recognised the gold embroidery of a disciple’s robes, so he rose to his feet as they began to gesture for him to follow. “This way, please-! That car is going to turn into a huge fireball in a few minutes, and you can’t afford to die!”

Ray moved his arm downwards, and ended up taking in a deep breath of smoke, unsure even himself if he did that intentionally or unintentionally. But… With a depressed sigh, he followed the disciple away from the crash. He didn’t want to, he wanted to recover your remains, but… He… He probably couldn’t now…

Eventually, Ray noticed the disciple step into a small clearing of trees, which he reluctantly followed them into.

“Now… Please brace yourself, Saeran… She’s not in the best state right now.”

“Wh- What?” Oh, did Ray have many questions… The first of which being ‘how did that disciple know that name?’ And… What did they mean by ‘she’?

The disciple walked over to a blanket set out on the ground, and there was somebody lying upon it… And Ray felt like breaking down at the sudden movement of the person’s chest as they attempted to breathe whilst still unconscious. He approached the blanket, before falling down to his knees and slowly reaching out as he whispered your name.

You were alive- Oh thank the saviour, you were alive-!

Ray was sobbing as he took in the burns, cuts, bruises and injuries covering your body, and how some of your clothes had appeared to almost attack themselves to your body where they had been singed. Slowly, he looked up at the disciple, and went to cry his thanks… until he noticed a few strands of turquoise coming out from the hood.

“...” He pressed a soft kiss to the small patch of unmarred skin on your hand, before rising to his feet and reaching out for the disciple. Or rather… He would have to say ‘supposed disciple’. “… What are you doing here?!”

[paganchristian]

My daughter as a preschooler, playing at the beach.  She used to have this thing she would do sometimes, this little joke she made up, that the letter “s” and the sound it makes is a snake sound, and only snakes can make it, and it’s a bad thing, ...  She would say “Oh you must be a snake, Oh no, you made this “s” sound”, and anyway, when she came up with this little joke of hers, it was right at a time when I was struggling with something that fit along with the joke.  How people really just kind of demonize and they go to such extremes about things, and anyway it helped me realize that was happening.  She often will give me little signs like this in things she does, and especially when she was younger it was all day long, all the time, perfect and unbelievably fitting, sometimes totally strange like she was reading my mind, signs, .. and one day I told her about this when she was older, about how she used to do things that would give me perfect ideas, and it seemed like a sign.  I was just starting to discuss some spiritual things with her.  And I asked if she realized she was doing this (because some new age people say they realize that they are giving people signs and so on, intentionally doing so, and have done from a young age).  She said no, she had no intention of giving me signs.  She thought it was hilarious and wonderful.  She’s been really open to signs and recognized many, though, since then. Though I have tried to stop talking about it too much, much at all, with her anymore, because she sometimes seems a little bit OCD about it.  By this I mean, I am not meaning this to trivialize or put down OCD, but I really think that she might be mildly OCD and I’m afraid her OCD might be activated with this subject.  She seemed to be too focused on it.  I realized that children aren’t always ready for complex spiritual ideas, not that it’s really that complex but maybe above the level of kids, and yet maybe some people aren’t really meant for it either, maybe some people would become obsessed and then look at all the superstitious people who ruin their lives with that, illogically, and so on. So I am not sure what I’ll teach her, but whether religion or just spirituality, there is just so much that can be harmful when used the wrong way, and it’s not such an obvious thing of how to use it the right way, often, either.  It could be just as harmful to not teach anything, for some, like me, and I found my way to what I needed.  (Or, rather, my parents and family taught me some but what they taught me was so lacking and felt so wrong and harmful and unreasonable that it often felt like I had nothing or that what I had was worse than nothing, when it trapped me in self-loathing, fear, and shame and anxiety, confusion, illogical rules, etc, etc...  And so I was driven to search for the deeper meanings and spirituality from early on and had little that satisfied me so I had to search and search, over so many many years, so many paths, I was compelled to do that, and even before I had any ideas of what I was searching for or what might be out there, in other belief systems, but I just was driven to search for deeper meanings and they only one day, long later, were satisfied, partially, in various belief systems, practices, and direct, personal experiences of the esoteric and mysterious graces, and so on.  When I had nothing to satisfy those deeper yearnings, then I was lost in escapism and deluded ideas, trying to fill the hole of God with those things, because I was never one who could just live this carefree, simple, casual life.  It never satisfied me, and I recall feeling this yearning emptiness about life and the universe from the time I was 6 or 7, was already fervently searching the religion available to me at 7, reading through the bible, from the old testament through the new (I got pretty far, too, and my goodness, what things I would have had to read through, it’s pretty disturbing for me to think about and I’d never let my daughter read much of that, at all, or at least, not without my explanation and input, to keep from warping her mind or making her depressed and sad, anxious, confused).  

Anyway, this is more of a journalish entry but I was going to make it about how we need free time, place, to play, to explore, go from one extreme and then to another.  When that would be barred off as being out of bounds, wrong and wasteful, sinful, by many religions, and sometimes oftentimes by modern typical values and norms, if you took it too far, too.  But I find that my carefree lifestyle and my Waldorfish homeschooling with it’s playfulness combined with structure, meaning, love, order. spirituality and creativity, the senses, movement, warmth, interaction, imagination...  All that just really gives me so much freedom, vast free open spaces of time and place, and activity, directed but undirected, purposeful but unpuproseful, somewhere in between what our culture normally defines as being purposeful yet I’ve learned it is purposeful.  I used to have trouble with this, because I would try to be purposefully daydreamy and creative and intuitive but I went too far into the unguided, the self-imploding, self-limiting, too self-referential, ...  too ingrown.  Too worried, too sensory, too artistic, too playful, too lonely, too much thinking and reading, too much in many different ways, too escapist. I always fell into a trap I didn’t see when I tried ot do it on my own, only..  Then with my daughter, with Waldorf homeschool, things changed at last. 

 And in those spaces and times that this school, this third grade Waldorfish school, gives, and their methods, topics, I find so much,...  Often you can only learn things, or I find often that I can only learn certain things by going from one extreme, for  a while, habiting that space for a while, and then to another extreme.  I can’t find it by holding both the extremes in my mind.  Only living both extremes in a real, lived, slow immersed way.  Then I see the balance I am meant to have.  But if I followed this straight and narrow road they say you must go on, then I would never have the chance.  I  could not find my unique point on the scales of balance that give me my own particular balance.  

I had to go from having too much free time, during spring break, too much time to immerse within my own silent reading and contemplation, and then go to school again and have too much busy-ness, too much children’s play, and see that my child needs to have more contemplative learning, and introspection, reading, writing, about all the topics school doesn’t normally cover.  But that is too much for her, and even too much for me, and I felt myself slipping into that excess, despite myself, despite always wanting to be balanced but having a hard times seeing how.  So then she would want to play games and play outside, and make arts and crafts and things like that, and it would feel like too much again, for me, and even for her, too much play and impulsive active directionless playfulness, without a lot of deeper meaning, not enough to guide and teach you all you need in life and instill restraint and other good habits and learning.  And my husband would go outside and do gardening and yardwork and he’d sit online and research topics that were of practical value or so he felt at least, and he’s want to go outdoors and walk, and those things all have value for me, well, at least, gardening and walking outdoors, especially.  So in this spring break he took off work half a day most days and we walked outdoors most days from noon till evening, and it balanced the wild, hyper, impulsive children’s play that my daughter wants me to do with her that overwhelms me (even as it rejuvenates me, but too much becomes too much after a while).

 But the things my husband does, when it took up too much of our time, they were, again, too much, too busy, down to earth all the time, not teaching my daughter what she needs, not letting me introspect and write and read as much as I’d like (though I overcame it in part when I had a book I carried to read as I walked upon the trails, and sometimes that works but other times I have a hard time doing the quiet study things I want on the trail).  Now we’re starting school once again, and it’s too much activity, busy in this slow and playful way, but it doesn’t give me enough time and energy left over to do all that I want, for my spiritual path as well as all the teaching I want to do for my daughter to teach her things for her life.  And I do have time for my spiritual path really, so it’s not that I can’t do any of that, but I can’t do all of that.  And why I didn’t have this realization just by thinking about it I don’t know.  But it feels like i had to go from one to another to another extreme to finally see how to make a balance. I had to dwell for long periods of time in each extreme for it to finally break through in  my consciosusneness in a way that felt clearly doable, believable, rememberable actionable, conceivable as a real, detailed, clear enough plan in my mind.  And for all this I’m grateful. 

I actually think that I’ve been having such a hard time, once again related to my whole difficulty with being too submissive, to passive, not assertive, and I wonder if it was how I was raised partially, or how I am just in my natural temperament to some degree, or both, anyway,...  Maybe because I am weird and it’s hard to keep on standing against the tide when you have to do that all the time and almost always you’re fought for standing up for yourself, and at least misunderstood,... when you’re so very different and no one gets it...  But I seem to have learned this pattern of not expressing myself, not being confident, not asserting myself, not being clear, not taking decisive actions, not choosing for myself and being original in a variety of ways,.. and that was actually also expressed when it came to how I teach my daughter homeschool and also when it comes to how I raise her and spend time with her.  It was being expressed in how I would just let her always come up with the things that we would do together in our spare time and I didn’t ever want to choose anything.  In fact, I recall my family all being like that, but especially my sisters and I, and I think that it was something we were taught, especially the women and girls.  It was hard to be decisive and make a firm, clear plan and direct the course of what to teach my daughter, and how when I couldn’t do this because of some deep seated anxiety and aversion and I felt unable because my mind would actually just go blank even when I tried.  My brain failed me, extreme anxiety overtook me, my creativity suffered, I would start to have these coping defense mechanisms that were very unpleasant, and I would become depressed, and irritable, bad memories and traumas would start rising up from mysterious places.  It felt like a  roadblock.

And only by repeatedly going at it again and again, did I finally not just think about the idea, not just agree with it and accept it and whole=heartedly want it and commit to it in theory, but finally felt able to start doing it.  I finally felt able to put t into clearer words, plans, actions, and I still have only started so we’ll see.  But if I have to have more extremes from one extreme to another and back again, over and over, for me to finally have enough immersion to get what more subtle experiences won’t give then whatever it takes it is just what it will require. 

[huberleo]

Once upon a time there was a strange man standing in front of a strange house

Lenny finds himself in Vienna, dislocated, dispossessed, lost. There is no flock to lead anymore, no divinity to represent. Lenny needs this feeling of power, this machinery around him that listens to his every whim. Lenny is obsessed with legacy, with power made real. I wish to remain an eternal enigma to myself and to others.[1] Lenny needs to rule over someone. Something. Lenny doesn’t fit in what he perceives as the rest of society. Lenny stands in front of the house. Ludwig is a kingdom. A realm complete in itself, surrounded by a wall. What king did not seat him at his table [2].

Prepare for Battle

Lenny stands in front of Ludwig. I'm ready to wage a war without end against you.[3] He sees himself as a being of greater glory and importance than his fellow men. He was of so great ability, even as a private citizen, that one who writes of him says he wanted nothing but a kingdom to be a king.[4] Lenny wants to build himself a monument, he wants to become immortal.

Ludwig likes rationality, Ludwig likes a good encyclopaedia that defines the world and its inhabitants and divides them into categories. Ludwig likes do divide the world into right an wrong, black and white. Ludwig knows his truth and how it is superior to earlier truths. Ludwig is a house.

Lenny likes to place himself in the pantheon of emperors, conquerors, military geniuses and deities. For he is not man, but legend. Humans are mortal; their glory may escape death. [5]

Do they fight to the death? [6] That's the fate of power.[7]  Lenny wants to conquer Ludwig and make him his subject, make Ludwig a representation of his divine glory. Ludwig prepares for war.

Siege

In the eyes of contemporaries, siege warfare unfolds like a classical drama.[8] You hesitate before entering a new world as an intruder, and becoming an alien. The anticipation of the moment may be more than you bargained for. Or it might be less. The city lives suspended in history, always waiting for someone or something, condemned to remain in precarious balance, always on the verge of resurrection but also a step back from the brink, exaltations following depressions.[9].

A dog believes his master is at the door.[10] Ludwig is no dog. Ludwig is well read in the art of battle. Ludwig knows what to do, for when the battle begins: here we are plunged into a world entirely mechanical. [11] In extreme conditions, when he was under siege, the gates were closed, the battlements were manned, and the house became the city became self contained for the duration.[12] It is the way Ludwig relates to his surroundings and their history, as a place that withstood siege. Ludwig has a high wall all around him. Ludwig is a fortress.

War What is it good for?[13]

The Threshold

A gate. A door. A void. A place between worlds. Between the two, there is threshold and fiber, symbiosis of or passage between heterogeneities. [14]  It is the momentary realization of leaving and entering at the same time. In a fraction of a certain time that cannot be measured you are both at once, past and future simultaneously without a present. Then you step into another world as another self and leave the alien in its pure form on the threshold, only to assume its form again once you step back into the past.

A gate in a wall. Lenny had expected something massive with at least one portcullis, something he would have to fight his way through. This is why fairy tales often had medieval architectural environments – to house their battles where good triumphs over evil, in a land far away, once upon a medieval time. [15] But it was only a simple door, almost hidden in the fabric of the wall. So devoid of ornament Lenny almost doesn’t notice. Almost.

Lenny stands on the threshold, he has breached the wall and the house is his. Ludwig is ready, the door behind Lenny falls shut, becoming part of the wall again. And though he, as the house is the most precise product of modern processes there will be entrenched within it this ancient loyalty invulnerable against the siege of our machines. [16] Every part of Ludwig is ready to fight. To defend itself with a selflessness that inspires legends. These assurances produced a degree of calm. [17] It was a dangerous calm, the one that makes you uneasy and dying to leave. Yet both fear the moment of truth when they have to confront each other not only in mind but in body. Lenny takes a step. Leaving any roots he had behind, for this step completely unearths him. The structure of reality has been fragmented, for the abolition of the mythical horizon has destroyed the divine mystery that lies beyond it. [18]

After the breach

The Garden surrounding the house in front of him feels strangely calm, almost surreal.  The garden was somehow baroque in geometry, but devoid of anything Lenny would have perceived as baroque ornamentation. In front of him, a door. His next objective. It too, was devoid of ornament of any kind, which made it appear more intimidating than the last.

Ludwig studies the strange form in front of him, intrigued by this strange creature staring at him from his garden.  The unfamiliarity of their situation made both of them uncomfortable, very much so. Both wanted to escape this weird stalemate. It felt wrong and yet there was a fascination with a pull that was impossible to ignore.

Entering the house

Lenny enters the house, the door seemed to carry the weight of the entire building.[19] His moment has come, the door was meant only for him.[20] Right behind that door: Hell.[21] Lenny stands on a threshold once again, determined to make this house a home, by any means necessary —a Modification of general features [22]  for a start. He needs everything to be about him. He finds himself in a room, completely bare yet decorated with a variety of doors to go through next. The apparent lack of ornament disturbs Lenny, he wants Ludwig to become this bastion of his personal power far away from Rome, a temple to enshrine himself in, like the emperors of old. A new Vatican. The object of a cult, subjected to varying interpretations, the bearer of many different values, this house will become a memorial, a monument to the glory of Lenny and of his immortal self.[23] No reasoning power, no commandment, no force can override his inclination or his choice.[24] The throne admits not two. [25]

Ludwig is intrigued by Lenny. But Ludwig detests what Lenny perceives as vital for representing power. He thinks it a crime. How dare he change proportions Ludwig sees as a product of perfection, how dare he disguise the truth Ludwig represents in each little detail with meaningless follies.

As bare as the house appeared to Lenny, he quickly realizes it is a maze. Absent were the features Lenny usually used to distinguish antechambers. For him every room needed a theme, be it in colour or allegory.  But when Lenny goes about the house, his manoeuvre was accompanied by another change. [26] With every threshold Lenny passes the alienation of a new room, a new world is like a blow to him. With every threshold Lenny leaves something behind. A trail consisting of fragments. Like an animal shedding fur, Lenny sheds parts of himself.

Lenny gets fully immersed in the labyrinth. Ludwig watches Lenny rummage through his rooms, rearrange his features. With every new room Lenny enters, his presence becomes more familiar to Ludwig. Room for room Ludwig becomes less himself, he thinks the outside finally caught up with him, for Lenny must represent the world outside Ludwig’s little universe.

The core of the labyrinth is Ludwig’s brain, his heart, his archive. As Lenny enters it he feels as if he just entered a holy place. Before him Ludwig’s identity is revealed. The vast archives containing all the knowledge of the past. In the middle Ludwig’s own thoughts are positioned like the sun, everything revolves around. The hierarchy of truth is clear to Lenny. He feels a sudden respect and unease, as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have. To rule completely he must put himself in that place. But that would mean to bare himself to Ludwig, his enemy. Or his host, he wasn’t sure anymore. For a moment Lenny questions his true purpose. Somewhere in the labyrinth he had lost any track of time, he entered the timeless plane of existence Ludwig had existed in until now. A sudden burst of fear drives Lenny away from this room, gripping the sleek handle he crosses another threshold. Hoping the unfamiliarity of the next room will make him forget.

Ludwig watches in astonishment as the intruder leaves this vital part of him intact, yet how could he connect his thoughts to his features anymore? His features had been dressed up, distorted. And so there would be neither accord nor conflict here,[27] just two lost souls questioning their conviction.

Lenny stands on a threshold, before him a room as grand in proportion as he once imagined, a throne room. It is a room suitable to act as a monument to him. It would have been for another Lenny. Ludwig watches Lenny wander around the full extent of the space. Ludwig doesn’t know where this room came from, it feels wrong yet it is there. It feels like a part of him. Ludwig questions his truth. The design of the History was very much an expression of his mind; he hopes it may stand, not unworthily, as a monument to his work. [28] Lenny stands in the room, his room. He has won. The thought crosses his mind. But what has he won. He has found just another room in a maze of rooms. He has gone from epic invader to ghost endlessly wandering beyond time. Lenny is lost. Ludwig is numb. He tears a rip into his wall, a door for Lenny.

Standing at the threshold of the house he looks over the whole garden.[29] Neither the parterre nor the surrounding groves show any original features.[30] Change is evident. [31] Lenny stands in the garden. He doesn’t remember there being a garden in the first place. He studies the massive wall encompassing the garden as he puts out his cigarette. Just another room in the labyrinth. A cage for his Pyrrhic victory.

Hortus conclusus

Enclosed space, a walled world, a wall around your own mind – eternal state. Every time the being that occupies this safe space ventures into another, it is as if it travelled to another realm of reality. As soon as it enters the new space it becomes alien from the old one. Therefore the hortus conclusus has to adapt to accommodate the changed needs of its resident every time they come back to what they perceive as home. It is a place of personal refuge. A place of dreams, longing and desires made real.

Standing in the garden Lenny looks at the house. It appeared calm and serene to him, but then it was a house. Even to the most prosaic it always holds something of a promise of the peaceful and pleasant place that lies within. [32]

A door in a wall

He didn’t go out through a door? [33] Once you leave your creation there is need to revert back to what you were before. Your own universe has become strange to you and the process of making it yours has to begin again. Now the same thing can’t be both known and unknown. [34] A perpetual state of rebirth on the threshold. They eagerly seek the agent of this metamorphosis, and hasten to his door. [35]

Lenny stands in front of a threshold, he still has to build himself a monument, he still needs to make these rooms fit for a god. Ludwig feels someone disturbing his peace, always crossing thresholds, always ripping him out of his eternal rest. Thus the struggle goes on. [36]

Here we go again. [37]

 [1] Ludwig II [2] Cervantes, Don Quixote [3] The Young Pope [4] Machiavelli, The Prince [5] Acocella, Stone Architecture Ancient and Modern Construction Skills [6] Seneca, Complete Works [7] The Young Pope [8] Alder, Engineering the Revolution [9] Payne, Renaissance and Baroque Architecture [10] Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations [11] Serres, History of Scientific Thought [12] Mitchell, Me The Cyborg Self and the Networked City [13] Strong Whitfield, War [14] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus [15] Rudolph, A Companion to Medieval Art Romanesque and Gothic [16] Ockmann, Architecture Culture 1943 1968 [17] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works [18] Voegelin, Order and History 4 [19] Sudjic, The Edifice Complex [20] Zizek, Less Than Nothing [21] The Young Pope [22] Kerr, The Gentlemans House [23] Serres, History of Scientific Thought [24] de Montaigne, The Complete Essays [25] Seneca, Complete Works [26] Summerson, Architecture in Britain 1530 1830 [27] Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations [28] Schmitt, The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy [29] Gothein, A History of Garden Art [30] Gothein, A History of Garden Art [31] Leatherbarrow Eisenschmidt, Twentieth Century Architecture [32] Stickley, Gustav Stickley s Craftsman Homes and Bungalows [33] Schumacher, The Autopoiesis of Architecture Vol 1 [34] Eco, The Name of the Rose [35] Aquinas, Selected Philosophical Writings [36] Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason [37] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology