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robin-josephette-biden · 3 years ago

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A Statement Through Horror: BDG and YouTube

In his video announcing his departure from Polygon Bryan David Gilbert [BDG] stated, “I want to make things that one day people will make a show like unraveled about.” [Paraphrasing here]. Since that announcement he has made some of the most interesting and engaging comedy videos on the platform. On Bryan’s channel, there is a section called “bdg’s scaries” that contains three videos. The first how to make jorts was released April 27, 2019 and will not be part of this analysis, as we are focused on the other two videos. These two videos are Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss which was released on October 25, 2020 (two months before his final Unraveled video and departure from Polygon) and Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97 which was posted March 3, 2021. If you have not seen these videos yet you should stop reading immediately and go watch them both (honestly everything on his channel is amazing, especially the surprisingly compelling and personal Dances Moving! series) before continuing to read this as I will be spoiling both of them. The position of YouTube celebrity has been the source of a good bit of commentary as short form online media has become more and more central in our culture. Bryan has created two videos that I feel do an excellent job of exploring the relationship between youtuber and audience. I should also point out that this is merely my interpretation of these videos and is in no way BDG’s intended message. I’ll start by going over the first video. Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss opens with BDG outside an apartment building, standing in front of a black car. BDG points up at one of the windows and says, “Three years ago I was living in that apartment right there. Third floor, leaky windows, cockroaches, the worst.” I do not know if the real life BDG actually lived in that building, but the 3 years timeframe does line up neatly with his beginning to work at Polygon. BDG continues to bad mouth his old apartment and mentions how he has turned it all around stating, “But just last week I paid off my very first Subaru Impreza. And I own my own house in Nebraska.” This radical change in life-style he credits to, “. . . [working] from home, [making] my own hours, and [being] my own boss. And you can do it too.” I think that it is interesting that BDG’s career up to that point mirrors that of his character, going from newly graduated content creator making small videos in his apartment to one of the most popular creators on Polygon. And all that being accomplished through work that many (rightly or wrongly) would not see as fitting into the mold of the traditional 9 to 5. The idea of making millions working from home, at your own pace, and with no boss is intrinsically tied to the mystique of the YouTube celebrity. Moving into BDG’s office he explains that he makes $20k a month working on spreadsheets. A massive spreadsheet appears behind him that is dated, 01.12.88 (nothing of note happened on January 12, 1988 and the only thing that happened on December 1, 1988 is a large cyclone that struck Bangladesh, January 12, 1888 is the day of the Schoolhouse Blizzard which struck the midwestern US and killed 235 people (remember this for later)) and is filled, seemingly randomly, with garbled nonsense symbols. Many of the cells are the same as other cells and there are empty cells scattered haphazardly throughout the spreadsheet. BDG explains that he got this strategy from Dorian Smiles. In exchange for working on these spreadsheets BDG receives $10k - $20k a month (an amount that lines up pretty damn well with the amount he should be getting through his Patreon page currently, I don’t know if this was true when the video was made though) from Dorian. Wanting to know where the money is coming from BDG asks his bank and they explain that he is wiring the money to himself from another account he has. He grows confused as to the nature of this work and the disproportionately large amount of money it brings in, explicitly mentioning his confusion as to how the money is coming from someone with, “. . . my name and my voice.” and sets about to find and confront Dorian Smiles. BDG sets off for Center Nebraska, which is close to where Dorian lives (a small town in the northeast corner of Nebraska). He states that Dorian’s address hasn’t existed since 1888 (that’s a familiar year isn’t it?) when it was supposedly condemned during an enormous blizzard and is, “. . . just woods now.” The video then transitions to BDG walking through dark woods while his narration talking up the Dorian Smiles program continues becoming increasingly broken. He comes across a figure sitting in the woods that is convulsing strangely, when he calls out to it the figure turns and is him (heretofore named Dorian). Dorian slowly puts his hands over his nose and mouth while staring at BDG at which point the narration cuts out. BDG copies Dorian and when Dorian removes his hands in a flourish, BDG does the same to reveal that he no longer has a mouth. The video quickly cuts back to BDG in his office talking about the program, he asks the viewer, “Why don’t you join me?” and then sits back and smiles while that line repeats without him moving his mouth. The most pressing mystery is who Dorian Smiles is. I think the most likely answer (and one I know I am not the progenitor of) is that Dorian is a reference to The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, the story of a young man that has a portrait that ages and takes on the ravages of the debauched life its subject lives while Dorian himself does not. BDG would therefore be the unwitting recipient of that blessing, reaping massive rewards while his double, Dorian, lives in poverty and solitude. I like this explanation for Dorian, but I find it to be far more mechanical than thematic. On a metatextual level you could read that Dorian represents the character of BDG. The person that is in all of BDG’s videos, and the one with whom so much of the audience forms a parasocial relationship. In this lens the parallels with BDG’s own life make more sense. By this point in BDG’s career it is not difficult to imagine him feeling stifled creatively at work (I feel comfortable saying this given how soon after this video came out that he departed Polygon). His character had grown too large, potentially becoming alien to him, no longer reflecting the art he wanted to make and so he made a video about a distorted version of himself stealing his voice. In this way the video becomes a statement on his artistic integrity and his desire to test new boundaries and go in different directions. In hindsight, with the knowledge of his departure and then success after leaving Polygon, the video becomes almost heartwarming (if it weren’t terrifying) in the same way that a before and after picture of someone improving themselves can be. We will return to the Dorian Smiles system, but now we must move to the second video, Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97. I’ll save you the blow by blow breakdown and aim for a quick summary instead. This video is a simple stationary shot of an old CRT tv. A VHS tape is inserted and a video of a man teaching his, evidently young, son how to use a camcorder plays. It is relatively wholesome and corny in that way that all home movies are and when it ends the tape rewinds and the segment plays again, this time with a few deviations. Over replays the father becomes aware of what is happening and begins trying to reason with Jake through the camcorder begging him to stop watching the tape and move on. The father is menaced by a large shadowy figure that does not speak or move when confronted. Eventually the father resorts to simply taking the camera and recording his own screams of pain. On the final rewind the father simply says, “Attaboy.” before calmly walking out the room and into the dark hallway, a doorway opens at the other end, filled with orange light, and the father walks through and down stairs. The final shot of the video is of the television, showing the hallway, as orange light begins to flicker in the background of the left side of the TV. The sound of the father descending the stairs transitions from the TV to diegetic and a shadow appears briefly in the light. On one level the video is clearly a statement about loss and about trauma. Jake is losing himself by watching these videos on repeat, trying in vain to relive a happier time. In that desperate desire to regain what was lost he is distorting it, making it into something it isn’t, hurting it. At the beginning the father says, “Never ever press the rewind button, otherwise you might record over a precious memory. We always keep the recording going forward . . .“ I think there is an additional, and more personal for BDG, reading however. The father is the modern character of BDG, and we, the audience, are Jake. He is pleading with us to leave the past behind and move on. This was only his 3rd video that he posted after leaving Polygon. It is a plea from him to leave the old character behind and stop trying to make one into the other. To stop obsessively comparing the new videos to the old. To let the future be the future and let the past be the past. He is telling us that his new work will not be like the old, that he has progressed past that and that now his viewers need to as well. The detachment and confusion of Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss has transformed into a desire to move forward. But he needed to ensure that his audience was ready to come with him, and so he made a video about loss and the dangers of sinking too far into it. I know that there are some of you that feel I am reading too much of what I assume to be BDG’s thoughts and emotions into these interpretations, and I am the first to admit that I might be. In no way am I trying to say these are the only interpretations of these videos or even that they are correct. I think there is so much more of an artist that they put into their work than they realise. I do not know the mind of BDG, only he does, but these videos made me feel that I had a glimpse into the feelings of a man whose work I admire. These videos are either longer or a drastically different tone to the material he has put on his own channel and as such they stood out to me. They felt different, and they seemed to ask for a different level of scrutiny. On some level maybe BDGs videos can not be divorced from the story of BDG as a content creator, the same as any modern internet semi-celebrity, or indeed any artist. I guess there was also a part of me that wanted to answer the call to action I heard when BDG left Polygon, to unravel his work. I hope in some small way I’ve been able to do that.

#bdg #brian david gilbert #analysis #youtube #scary #When the dad screams towards the end of Teaching Jake I felt that in my soul.

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akitohru · 4 years ago

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The Sohma clan and its cult-like characteristics or: why and how they get away with everything they do. Why everyone stays. Why the current system held in place operates so well. I wrote this back when episode 10 came out, but I didn’t post it over here. However, with the release of Rin’s episode, I’m seeing this topic being brought up again a lot, so I wanted to post it over here too. This post will include no manga spoilers, so don’t feel the need to watch out for them.

Warning: Abuse will be heavily discussed in this post.

With the reveal that Akito is God, we find out why the zodiac are so loyal to Akito. However, the curse itself is largely a metaphorical device rather than an actual fantasy device. Even without the curse, their loyalty to Akito is still.. very realistic considering the environment they grew up in. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the Sohma clan (at least, the “inside” part of the clan.) is a cult. This post will be explaining why that is and how being in a cult affects people. I will be using this handout (uucnrv.org/uucwp/wp-content/uploads/Cults-handouts.pdf) in the post as a reference.The handout defines a cult as:

A religion or sect, generally considered to be extremist or false, under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader for whom members exhibit fixed, even religious, veneration.

The zodiac worship Akito as their God. Even if they have problems with how Akito operates things, they still hold great reverence for him and don’t go against him no matter what kind of heinous things he does Ex: Not doing anything about Yuki being locked and tormented in a dark room by Akito for a majority of his young life, Akito partially blinding Hatori + ruining him and Kana’s relationship, Akito harming Tohru, and Akito pushing Rin off from what looked to be the third floor of a building.

Now, onto what the handout describes as common characteristics of cults:

One charismatic leader is the group’s sole authority on truth; only this leader decides, or has the right to approve, all policies and practices. Members are zealous, protective, and unquestioningly committed to the leader.Members regard the leader’s beliefs and practices as truth and law; the leader affirms and enforces this idea. Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or punished.

Since I’ve pretty much already covered how all of these characteristics relate to Akito and the zodiac under the definition, I’ll refrain from repeating myself on certain things. You may have noticed in episode 9 that Yuki says, “He needs to know his place. Him and me both. That’s how it’s supposed to be.“ He and the others have had instilled in them ever since they were old enough to comprehend things that the way things operate in the Sohma Clan are simply just the way things are supposed to be. That they can not defy that. That is is fate. Like Akito says to Kyo, "It’s what’s been carved into the wheel of fate for those born with a spirit.”

“The group’s leadership dictates how members should think, act, and feel. Members require the leader’s permission to change jobs, date, marry, or have children. The leader tells members where they can live and how to teach and discipline their children.”

Ex: Hatori having to get permission to marry Kana. While this is a characteristic of a cult, this also has to do with the Sohma clan’s family/household system. You can read more about that in this informative and intriguing post made by Furuba Canon here! (It warns in the post but watch out for spoilers.)

“The group uses public humiliation or punishment, debilitating work, sleep deprivation, or other practices to create group-think and to suppress individualism and doubt.”

I’ve already mentioned some examples of the type of punishment Akito exacts against the zodiac for insubordination under the definition, but another example of this would be when Akito visits the school and threatens Yuki with the “special room” he used to isolate him before because he skipped out of the New Year celebration

“The group is elitist, claiming special status for itself, its leaders, and its members.”

The zodiac are most definitely seen as special in the Sohma clan, only the “insiders” knowing of the curse. Akito, of course, is seen as the most special.

“Criticism or jokes about the leader or group are taken very seriously and likely punished.”

We see this when Kyo is fighting back against Akito in the annex, Akito responding with, “Don’t give me orders,” and becoming more aggressive after Kyo tells him not to touch him. We also see this when Tohru protects Momiji from Akito.

Thought Reform

In the article (people.howstuffworks.com/cult.htm), “How Cults Work”, the author describes how cults manage to have so much control over people:

A destructive cult uses countless techniques to get its members to stay, commit themselves and take part in what may be harmful activities. The sum of these techniques constitutes what some people call “mind control.” It’s also known as “thought reform,” “brainwashing” and “coercive persuasion,” and it involves the systematic breakdown of a person’s sense of self… Thought reform is an umbrella term for any number of manipulative techniques used to get people to do something they wouldn’t otherwise do…most psychologists believe that cult brainwashing techniques, which are similar to techniques used in prisoner interrogation, do change a person’s thought processes

Techniques (I will only be mentioning the ones that apply to the Sohma Clan.):

1. “Isolation- Cults cut off members from the outside world (and even each other) to produce intense introspection, confusion, loss of perspective and a distorted sense of reality. The members of the cult become the person’s only social contact and feedback mechanism…

Cults may not allow unsupervised contact with the “outside world.” In this way, there is no chance for a “reality check” or validation of a new member’s concerns regarding the group.

Cults typically instill the belief that “outsiders” (non-cult members) are dangerous and wrong.”

As we first see in the “Spring Comes” episode, the Sohmas mostly all live in the big Sohma estate with no outsiders being allowed in without special permission. Even if they are allowed to attend school and go out for other reasons, they’re still pretty isolated and surrounded by people who don’t find the way things operate inside the estate odd at all, some even encouraging of it. Someone living in that type of environment all of their life will more likely than not be influenced by the people around them, twisted as those people may be.

In a more extreme sense, we see this with how Akito isolated young Yuki and still isolates Kureno. Akito rarely allows anyone to see Kureno, keeping him by his side as much as possible, not giving him a chance to break free from his chains. The same went for Yuki. Again, Akito instilled in him that the outside world was pitch black and that no one would accept him out there, that it was dangerous to interact with people outside because they’d find him strange and weird.

2. “Induced Dependency- Cults demand absolute, unquestioning devotion, loyalty and submission. A cult member’s sense of self is systematically destroyed. Ultimately, feelings of worthlessness and “evil” become associated with independence and critical thinking, and feelings of warmth and love become associated with unquestioning submission…

Any doubts, assertiveness or remaining ties to the outside world are punished by the group through criticism, guilt and alienation. Questions and doubts are systematically “turned around” so that the doubter feels wrong, worthless, “evil” for questioning. The member is loved again when he renounces those doubts and submits to the will of the leader.”

We see this when Kyo questions why Akito allowed Tohru to live with them if he hates her so much, if he’s using her for something. In response to Kyo questioning, Akito retorts, “You’re always quick to make me the villain, huh?…You even killed your own mom! Do you think you have the right to fall in love with someone?! Do you think that’s allowed?! Kyo. Hey, Kyo. Think about it. Who’s the real villain here? Who’s the one who involved her the most?” When Kyo gives in, Akito becomes more “loving” towards him, saying, “It’s okay, I’ll go visit you in confinement. I’ll be by your side, so you won’t be alone. I love you. I actually love you so much, Kyo. Be a good boy from now on.“

Akito loves using people’s trauma against them, knows how to use it in such an awfully cruel way. In Kyo’s case, he has been told that he’s a monster his whole life even by his dad. His mother took her life and everyone blames it on him. It’s not simple to erase that guilt he feels from even though he has positive influences around him. (Ex: Kazuma, Tohru.) That’s how Akito breaks him down. Even if he knows Akito is a cruel person, it doesn’t erase the idea from his mind that he is a monster and that, despite Akito being the way he is, that he is right. Akito knows this. He manipulative and knows how to make people bend to his will.

“The leader may randomly alternate praise and love with scorn and punishment to keep the member off-balance and confused and instill immense self-doubt. The leader may offer occasional gifts and special privileges to encourage continued submission.”

We see this with how Akito tells everyone he “loves” them, but, at the same time, emotionally and physically abuses them to keep them in check. The situation with Kyo in the annex applies here too.

3. “Dread- Once complete dependence is established, the member must retain the leader’s good favor or else his life falls apart.

The leader may punish doubt or insubordination with physical or emotional trauma.”

I believed I’ve already used up all the examples I can use that won’t be spoilers, so I’ll copy the examples I used under the definition. Ex: Not doing anything about Yuki being locked and tormented in a dark room by Akito for a majority of his young life, Akito partially blinding Hatori + ruining him and Kana’s relationship, Akito harming Tohru, and Akito pushing Rin off from what looked to be the third floor of a building.

“Once all ties to the outside world have been cut, the member feels like his only family is the group, and he has nowhere else to go.

A specific example of this would be how Yuki felt when his mom gave him up to Akito. To quote him, “I thought that if she abandoned me, if she deserted me, everything would turn dark, and it would be the end to everything.”

“Access to necessities depends on the leader’s favor. The member must "behave” or he may not get food, water, social interaction or protection from the outside world.”

Again, Akito’s isolation of Kureno and Yuki applies here. There are some spoilery things I won’t mention that are very applicable here too.

To end off,

Indoctrination, or thought reform, is a long process that never really ends. Members are continually subjected to these techniques – it’s part of daily life in a cult. Some adjust well to it after a period of time, embracing their new role as “group member” and casting aside their old sense of independence. For others, it’s a perpetually stressful existence.

The zodiac were born into an extremely twisted environment. It’s pretty much all they’ve ever known. They think the way they are living is the way it is supposed to be and something that can not be changed. Akito is the head of the family and has the support of many Sohma elders/adults including most of the zodiacs’ very own parents. It is also worth noting that the Sohmas are a very rich and powerful clan (Notice how they even have a hospital under their name as shown in episode 5 of s2. That’s how Akito/the parents can get away with abusing the zodiac kids and putting them in the hospital without anyone reporting them.); if they really wanted to prevent someone from acting out against them they very easily could and could easily pay off authorities if anyone managed to report them. Another reason why real life cults are so successful is because of corrupt law enforcement who are willing to turn the other cheek if they are paid enough and deep political ties.

So, with all that being said, you can see why it would be natural for them to feel trapped, to feel that they have no choice. Adults around them that were supposed to take care of them and protect them instead used them for their own benefit/let them be a part of such a twisted system. Abuse, childhood abuse especially, is something that can irrevocably damage a person’s mind. The effects of abuse and trauma are nothing to scoff at. Even healthy adults who’ve never been in that kind of environment can be brainwashed by a cult if they’re unlucky enough to get caught up in one.

#fruits basket

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 5 years ago

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The Minnesota Starvation Study

In the 1940s, when starvation was widespread throughout war-torn Europe, little was known about the effects of human starvation or how to best refeed people who’d suffered from such deprivations. Dr. Keys led the first scientific study of calorie restrictions, at the Laboratory of Physiological Hygiene at the University of Minnesota, for the War Department. The researchers wanted to understand the medical needs facing millions of starving war victims and how best to renourish and rehabilitate them to health after the war. Their study was known as the Minnesota Starvation Study and the results were published in the legendary two-volume, Biology of Human Starvation (Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis, 1950). The study itself was so comprehensive and intense, however, that even Dr. Keys admitted no other human experiment quite like it will ever be done again because, given what we now know, it would be seen as too cruel and life-threatening. While the degree of suffering the participants underwent would violate what is seen as the ethical rights for human research subjects today, in one respect this study was different from obesity and weight loss research done today. These men were not volunteering because they felt they needed to lose weight for fear that their own lives were endangered, nor were the study authors motivated by personal gain or selling a weight loss program. Even the recruitment poster for the Minnesota Experiment, dated May 27, 1944, asked for men willing to starve so others may be better fed. The volunteers were all conscientious objectors to the war who said they wanted to do something of real meaning for their country, make a contribution to science and help to improve the medical care for the millions of starving people in Europe. They gave their consent freely, without a feeling of personal duress and with full knowledge of the risks. The recruitment information they were given stressed how difficult the experiment would be. One participant later said: “They explained what was going to happen. There was nothing held back. They explained that they could not assure me that there would be no permanent damage… They did not know what would happen. This is what they were trying to find out… really they emphasized the discomfort… this was not going to be an easy task down the road.” Sixty years later, Johns Hopkins interviewed the surviving study participants for their first-hand experiences and they all said they would do it again:

[T]he men continued to look back on participation in the Minnesota Experiment as one of the most important and memorable activities in their lives. Wesley Miller reported, “It’s colored my whole life experience… [and was] one of the most important things I ever did… I’m proud of the work the Civilian Public Service did during the war.“ Samuel Legg seemed to speak for all of the men when he commented, “I think probably most of us are feeling we did something good and are glad we did it, and that helps us live a better life.”

The experiment — the starvation syndrome

The 40 young male participants were carefully selected among hundreds of volunteers for being especially psychologically and socially well-adjusted, good-humored, motivated, well-educated, active and healthy. They were put on calorie-restrictive diets of about 1,600 calorie/day, meant to reflect that experienced in war-torn regions, for 3 months. They dieted to lose 2.5 pounds a week to lose 25% of their natural body weight. The calories were more generous than many weight loss diets prescribe today! What this study was actually studying, of course, was dieting and restrictive eating — our bodies can’t tell the difference if they’re being semi-starved involuntarily like war victims or voluntarily. During the 3-month nutritional rehabilitation period after the diet, the men were randomly assigned to various nutritional regimens, with differing levels of calories, proteins and vitamins. The men lived at the lab and everything they ate and did was closely monitored, as was their health with a battery of tests. Daily exercise was walking about 3 miles a day. As difficult as the diets were for the subjects, they knew their hunger was less than that of the war victims they were trying to help. All but four completed the study. One of the participants said: “The difference between us and the people we were trying to serve: they probably had less food than we did. We were starving under the best possible medical conditions. And most of all, we knew the exact day on which our torture was going to end. None of that was true of people in Belgium, the Netherlands, or whatever.” Dr. Keys and colleagues painstakingly chronicled how the men did during the 6 months of dietary interventions and for up to a year afterwards. This study scientifically defined for the first time “the starvation syndrome.” As the men lost weight, their physical endurance dropped by half, their strength about 10%, and their reflexes became sluggish — with the men initially the most fit showing the greatest deterioration, according to Dr. Keys. The men’s resting metabolic rates declined by 40%, their heart volume shrank about 20%, their pulses slowed and their body temperatures dropped. They complained of feeling cold, tired and hungry; having trouble concentrating; of impaired judgment and comprehension; dizzy spells; visual disturbances; ringing in their ears; tingling and numbing of their extremities; stomach aches, body aches and headaches; trouble sleeping; hair thinning; and their skin growing dry and thin. Their sexual function and testes size were reduced and they lost all interest in sex. They had every physical indication of accelerated aging. As the physical effects became more dramatic, one study participant said Mrs. Keys confided that Dr. Keys “went through terrible times during the experiment as we lost weight and became gaunt and so on. And he would come home and say, ‘What am I doing to these young men? I had no idea it was going to be this hard.’” But the psychological changes that were brought on by dieting, even among these robust men with only moderate calorie restrictions, were the most profound and unexpected. So much so that Dr. Keys called it “semistarvation neurosis.” The men became nervous, anxious, apathetic, withdrawn, impatient, self-critical with distorted body images and even feeling overweight, moody, emotional and depressed. A few even mutilated themselves, one chopping off three fingers in stress. They lost their ambition and feelings of adequacy, and their cultural and academic interests narrowed. They neglected their appearance, became loners and their social and family relationships suffered. They lost their senses of humor, love and compassion. Instead, they became obsessed with food, thinking, talking and reading about it constantly; developed weird eating rituals; began hoarding things; consumed vast amounts of coffee and tea; and chewed gum incessantly (as many as 40 packages a day). Binge eating episodes also became a problem as some of the men were unable to continue to restrict their eating in their hunger. The act of restricting food and the constant hunger “made food the most important thing in one’s life,” said one of the participants. “Food became the one central and only thing really in one’s life. And life is pretty dull if that’s the only thing. I mean, if you went to a movie, you weren’t particularly interested in the love scenes, but you noticed every time they ate and what they ate.” These experiences are familiar to those who’ve spent their lives dieting. In fact, many of the symptoms once thought to be primary features of anorexia nervosa are actually normal biological responses of undernutrition and restrictive eating, said David M. Garner, PhD., director of River Centre Clinic in Sylvania, Ohio, in Psychoeducational principles in the treatment of eating disorders (NY: Guilford Press, 1997). It was actually Dr. Keys’ research that first evidenced the role of dieting in increasing risks for eating disorders. The extreme physical and mental effects Dr. Keys observed led to his famous quote: “Starved people cannot be taught democracy. To talk about the will of the people when you aren’t feeding them is perfect hogwash.” This was also what led early feminist activists to see dieting and weight concerns as a way to keep women preoccupied with food, filled with guilt and self-hatred, more easily influenced by others, and too mentally and physically exhausted to succeed professionally and politically.

The aftermath

The last part of the Minnesota Starvation Study revealed perhaps the most important effects. When the men were allowed to eat ad libitum again, they had insatiable appetites, yet never felt full. Even five months later, some continued to have dysfunctional eating, although most were finally regaining some normalization of their eating. As they regained their weights, their suppressed metabolism and energy levels returned, although even three months after ending the diet none of the men had yet regained their former physical capacity, noted Dr. Keys. While it seemed the men were “overeating,” Dr. Keys discovered that their bodies actually needed inordinate amount of calories for their tissues to be rebuilt:

Our experiments have shown that in an adult man no appreciable rehabilitation can take place on a diet of 2,000 calories a day. The proper level is more like 4,000 kcal daily for some months. The character of the rehabilitation diet is important also, but unless calories are abundant, then extra proteins, vitamins and minerals are of little value.

In other words, they weren’t really “overeating,” it was a biological, normal effect of hunger and weight loss. The men regained their original weights plus 10%. The regained weight was disproportionally fat, and their lean body mass recovered much more slowly. With unlimited food and unrestricted eating, their weights plateaued and finally, about 9 months later, most had naturally returned to their initial weights without trying — giving scientists one of the first demonstrations that each body has a natural, genetic set point, whether it be fat or thin. Despite the fear that with unrestrained eating everyone would continue to grow larger, it isn’t true. As Dr. Garner explained:

One of the most notable implications of the Minnesota experiment is that it challenges the popular notion that body weight is easily altered if one simply exercises a bit of “willpower.“ It also demonstrates that the body is not simply “reprogrammed” at a lower set point once weight loss has been achieved. The volunteers’ experimental diet was unsuccessful in overriding their bodies’ strong propensity to defend a particular weight level. Again, it is important to emphasize that following the months of refeeding, the Minnesota volunteers did not skyrocket into obesity.

[…] Scientists at Rockefeller University replicated the findings of the Minnesota Starvation study and went on to learn that the body has an incredibly complex and sophisticated system to regulate its fat stores. And when those fat levels deviate from the body’s genetic setpoint, compensatory mechanisms kick in to return the body to is normal state without us having a lot of say about the matter. Decades of sound studies have continued to show that healthy obese people eat and behave no differently than anyone else to explain why their bodies are bigger. It’s not “overeating,” or eating “unhealthy” foods or not enough “healthy” foods, or too little activity, that explains why some of us are fat and others lean. Conventional wisdom on obesity’s cause hasn’t changed appreciably from the time of Galen, who held obese individuals responsible for their size, said obesity researcher Dr. Jeffrey M. Friedman, M.D., Ph.D., head of the Laboratory of Molecular Genetics at Rockefeller University. The commonly held belief that obese people can simply decide to eat less and exercise more to control their weight is “at odds with substantial scientific evidence illuminating a precise and powerful biological system that maintains body weight within a relatively narrow range (10-20 pounds),” he said. Fat people are victimized by a social stigma predicated on these myths, he wrote in a 2004 issue of Nature Medicine. Our body shapes and sizes are, to a most significant extent, genetically determined. “The heritability of obesity is equivalent to that of height and greater than that of almost every other condition that has been studied,” said Dr. Friedman. Someone genetically predisposed to obesity will become obese independent of their caloric intake, he explains. And, while it may explain a few extra pounds, it’s not the environment, where almost everyone as unlimited access to calories, that explains the marked difference in body weights in our population today. “Why has the scientific evidence from long-standing obesity research not found its way into the minds of the public and even a significant proportion of the scientific community?,” asks Dr. Friedman. “Perhaps,“ he says, "it is because these views are shaped by a constant barrage of advertisements from the diet industry which has a multibillion dollar interest in promoting the view that weight can be controlled through volition alone… Perhaps it is because humans prefer to believe that the conscious wish to be trim is an element of our “free will” and should therefore dominate” our genes. But the average person eats one million or more calories each year, while weight changes very little, because energy balance is biologically regulated with a precision of greater than 99.5%, which far exceeds what can be consciously controlled, he explained.

#dieting

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anarcoqueer1994 · 5 years ago

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Pretend Boyfriends

This was a really cute request by @tyrus-is-everything . The prompt was TJ and Cyrus pretend to date to get Kira to back off TJ but then end up together at the end. I hope y"all like it. It was a fun story to do. There is minor fluffy angst.

"Ugh…" TJ throws his hands on his face before dramatically falling back on Cyrus' bed. The two of them are supposed to be studying for a math test but TJ is obviously distracted. Cyrus, sitting across the room in a chair by his desk ,looks at the other boy. He takes the opportunity to enjoy how cute the blonde is while TJ has is face covered.

After a moment of staring, he snaps out of it. He clears his throat causing the jock to sit up and look at him. "Something on your mind, Teej?"

"Its Kira, dude. She is so clingy. She is always texting me, always asking to hang out. I don't exactly mind her, like she is cool to play some pick up games at the park with but she wants to hang out all the time. She just texted me asking to go to the park with her. I told her I am studying but she keeps texting me. Do you think she could have a crush on me?"

Cyrus shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the last question. He tries to regain his composure. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous over the idea that someone else likes TJ, but he does. But who wouldn't like TJ? He is so sweet, and the best looking guy at school, a great athlete…

"Hello, earth to Cyrus?" TJ waves his hand. He must have noticed Cyrus zoning out. Cyrus snaps back into it, slightly blushing. "Oh sorry, I'm a little out of it. What were you saying?"

"Kira, Cy. Do you think she could like me?"

"I mean it is pretty obvious she does. But I also think that she thinks you like her back."

TJ's face distorts in confusion. "Why would she think that?"

"Well you do spend a lot of time together. She flirts with you all the time and you are just so oblivious to it that you don't say anything. You even gave her a piggyback ride."

"I told you Cyrus, she bet me I couldn't carry her."

Cyrus rolls his eyes. "Yea but typically if someone randomly jumps on your back, or you know, constantly wants to around you, they probably like you more than just a friend."

"God, I'm an idiot. I can't believe I missed all that." TJ returns his hands to his face. "I want to make it clear to her somehow that I am not interested in her that way!"

Cyrus jokingly suggests "You can always get a girlfriend so she gets the hint that you are taken."

TJ suddenly gets a huge smile on his face. "That's a great idea!"

"TJ, I was joking. How do you expect to get a girl just to go along with pretending to be with you just to get Kira off your back. Wouldn't it be easier just to talk to her?"

"First of all, no. Talking to her always just leads back to us talking about her. It is impossible to have a real conversation with her. Secondly, who said it had to be a girl? As long as she thinks I'm taken the plan will work. In fact, it could be anyone." TJ gets a devious look on his face and smirks at Cyrus.

"Oh no. No way TJ." Cyrus puts up his hands.

"Why Cyrus? It would be perfect. You're my best friend and the only one I can trust with this. Plus you wouldn't have to keep it up for long. After she gets the hint that I don't like her, we could "break up" because we realized we are better as friends or something. Please Cyrus?" TJ flashes those puppy dog eyes. If only he realized how much those eyes made Cyrus' heart melt.

Cyrus lets out a sigh. "Let's say I agree, where would we do this?

"Well I was thinking there is that winter festival tomorrow night, I know she will be there. We can go together like a pretend date?"

"Fine, I'll do it. I will be your pretend boyfriend." Cyrus gives a small smile.

"Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me!" TJ gets up and walks across the room. He throws his arms around Cyrus. He continues "Really, thank you."

TJ's arms linger around Cyrus far longer than a random hug. Cyrus clears his throat again, seemingly shocking the other back to reality. TJ pulls away quickly.

"Sorry about that Cyrus, you know, just trying to rehearse what to do as your boyfriend." He gives a nervous laugh.

Cyrus, trying not to read too much into it, replies, "Yeah, rehearsing is good. Um we should get back to math."

"Yea, you're right. We should study." The other boy says, sounding equally as flustered.

That night, neither boy could sleep. Both were thinking about that hug in Cyrus' bedroom and what laid ahead the following evening.

*************

They decided to meet at TJ's house before heading to the festival. Cyrus is nervous as he walks to TJ's front door. He has been here so many times before but this time feels different. This time his heart feels like is was going to fly out his chest at any moment. He has to remind himself that this is pretend. Maybe the flowers were too much he thinks to himself. TJ only likes you as a friend he keeps saying in head.

On the other side of the door is an equally nervous boy. He has redone his hair at least 3 times. Amber, his big sister, is trying to calm him down. She smiles as she finishes fixing his hair, washing out some of the excess gel. Her brother hasn't admitted his crush on his best friend to anyone. But Amber can tell. She wants tonight to go well for him.

The doorbell rings, and TJ practically trips running down the steps to answer it. Before opening the door, he reminds himself to stay cool. Unfortunately, it takes everything in him not to go full heart eyes when he opens the door. There Cyrus was, cheeks pink from the cold air, standing in front of him with a bouquet of violets and white roses. He looked so cute. "Hey Underdog."

"Hey, not-so-scary-basketball-guy. I um brought you these, I figured it would help us stay in character if we play the part completely. You know, method acting." Cyrus says as a lame excuse. In reality, he thought the colors would look pretty with the contrast to TJ's bright green eyes. He hands them to the taller boy.

"I love them. These are great. Thank you, Cyrus." He gives a soft smile. "Let me put these in some water and we can go."

Soon enough they were making their way to the festival. When they walk through the gates, they see a massive ice rink full of people skating and having fun. There are stands with hot chocolate, and winter crafts for kids. Further back, people are sledding down a long hill. String lights fill the open air space with a warm glow.

TJ looks over at Cyrus' face. He looks so happy and cute. His face is filled with pure joy, looking like a kid who has just walked into a winter wonderland. He takes this opportunity to slide his hand into Cyrus'. He expects some resistance but only feels the warmth of the other boy's hand squeezing back before intertwining their fingers. Cyrus says in a barely audible tone "Got to keep up the role right?" Before pointing somewhere with his eyes. TJ follows his line of direction to Kira, standing near a food tent staring at them.

Cyrus speaks again. "I think she definitely sees us. You think she will get the hint?"

"I hope so but we should keep this up for the rest of the night just in case." TJ says in a voice that almost sounds foreign. Cyrus swears that he almost sounds nervous even.

"Of course." Cyrus smiles. "Wanna go skating? It is one of the only athletic things I can do without completely embarrassing myself."

"Yeah, that sounds great." TJ responds as he starts to lead the brunette to the skate rental booth. As they step closer, they see some familiar faces. Buffy and Andi are standing in line waiting to rent their skates. Cyrus starts to internally panic as he and TJ get closer. He forgot to fill his friends in on this plan. What if they blow their cover? Cyrus pleads with whatever G-d is out there to stop his friends from noticing him. No such luck.

Buffy spots them right away. She calls over. "Cyrus, TJ over here."

TJ, not realizing what could go wrong, happily pulls Cyrus to the others, still holding hands.

"Hey, I didn't know you guys were coming." Andi says. "Cyrus said he had plans tonight." Her eyes shoot down to the boys' intertwined fingers. "Oh my god. Are you guys on a date?"

Neither boy answers, unsure what to do. Buffy smiles at them. "You guys are, aren't you? I am so excited for you! Finally, right?"

With those words Cyrus' heart drops. Buffy just unintentionally opened a can of worms he wanted to keep shut. TJ speaks next. "What do you mean by finally?"

"Well you know, Cyrus had such a crush on you for so long and literally anyone with eyes could see that you liked him just as much. I am just surprised you didn't do this sooner." She says nonchalantly as the group of kids get their skates.

Cyrus quickly interjects "Well, um, we are going to go skate now. " He sounds anxious and even with the cold air around them, Cyrus feels clammy. He pulls TJ away from their friends, who look completely confused, and to the rink.

He keeps expecting TJ to call this whole plan off. He expects TJ to be freaked out. He expects him to regret ever becoming his friend. But when it comes to TJ Kippen, you should never expect one thing, because you will get something else. TJ seems to pretend like that entire conversation didn't even happen. He goes on with their fake date. He appears completely unfazed as he pulls Cyrus onto the ice. That is, of course, on the outside.

On the inside TJ was a bundle of nerves. Was Buffy right? Did Cyrus really like him in the same way he liked Cyrus? Could this be a thing? Could he really date the boy of his dreams? He was surprised that Cyrus could not hear his heart pounding. TJ really did not want to get his hopes up but he was struggling to keep them low.

Neither boy spoke much as they skated laps around the rink. But they never let go of each other's hand, almost like they needed the connection. After a bit, they hear a skater coming up behind them. As the skater went around them, she came into view; Kira. She stops in front of them and gives almost a disgusted smile. "Hey TJ. Cyrus." The latter's name was spoken with much contempt.

"Oh hey Kira." TJ replies.

"So what is this? Are guys seriously a thing now?" The words leave her mouth like venom.

The taller boy speaks again. "As a matter of fact, we are." He smiles before removing his hand from Cyrus' only to throw it around Cyrus' waist pulling him closer.

Being this close to TJ makes it almost impossible to breathe. The air from his lungs felt like it was caught in his throat. All he can do is stand pathetically wrapped in TJ's arm, but he wasn't about to complain.

Kira's voice cuts through his thoughts, louder than before. People are beginning to stare. "I don't think whatever this is, is real. You expect me to believe that you would rather date this loser, over me. We compliment each other so well."

TJ's grip around Cyrus gets tighter as he snaps back. "Don't call him that! You don't know anything about him! He is the sweetest, smartest, cutest person I ever met. Anyone would be proud to be with him, I know I am." Cyrus' blushes, thankful that the cold could account for the pink filling his face.

She smirks "Then kiss him."

"What?" TJ chokes out.

"If he really is your boyfriend, kiss him."

Cyrus looks up at TJ, not sure what to do next. TJ looks back at Cyrus to get permission with his eyes to kiss him. Cyrus nods softly. TJ's eyes flicker down to Cyrus' lips before leaning in and ...does nothing. He stops before meeting Cyrus' lips.

"I'm sorry. I can't. I'm sorry…" he says one more time to Cyrus before running away leaving Cyrus on the ice. Cyrus' heart sinks to the pit of his stomach.

Kira lets out a dry laugh. "I knew it. TJ could never really be into a guy like you." Her words felt like knives piercing him all over. As she skates away, he is left feeling like an idiot.

TJ had spoken all those nice things about him. He didn't freak out when Buffy revealed his crush crush on the athlete. He didn't deny what Buffy said about him liking Cyrus. Cyrus, for a moment, let himself believe that they could possibly be a thing. But it was obvious by how TJ reacted just now, that he was being delusional. TJ was just being polite.

He shoots TJ a short text.

I'm heading home.

He doesn't even get a reply.

************

Cyrus lays in bed, replaying the events from earlier that night. He keeps reliving that awful feeling he had watching TJ run away from him. He should of stuck to his gut. It was a terrible idea to do a fake date. He knew somehow he would get hurt. But he could never say no to TJ. But now he is left feeling more stupid, and humiliatedthan he has ever felt.

He is jarred from his thoughts when he hears a tap on his window. He is on the second floor so he is a little uneasy. Then there is a second tap.He turns on his bedside lamp. Another tap hits the window. Cyrus takes a deep breath and walks to the window. Looking outside he sees a figure sitting on the tree branch outside his room. It doesn't take him long to recognize the figure. He opens his window. "TJ?"

"Hey Cyrus, a little help here." He says reaching his hand out, asking to come into the room. Like it was established earlier, Cyrus can't say no to those green eyes. He grabs the other boy's hand and helps pull him inside.

The boys face each other. Cyrus doesn't get why TJ is here. Hasn't he been humiliated enough today without the taller boy coming to remind him that he is an idiot with another unrequited crush?

In a hushed tone, as to not wake his parents, Cyrus asks "Do you have any idea what time it is? What are you doing here? Are you crazy? Look I get that it was dumb for me to think you could..." Cyrus is suddenly cut off by the other boys lips pressing against his. TJ's arma pulling Cyrus closer to him. It only last a few seconds before TJ pulls away but without removing his arms. Cyrus is in complete shock.

"What ...what was that for?" Cyrus can hardly push the words across his teeth.

"It's what I wanted to do earlier. I like you a lot Cyrus. I like you as way more than a friend. All those things I said earlier to Kira, I meant every single word.You are so sweet. You are so smart. And damn. You are so cute. When I am with you, you make me want to be a better person. You are always there to build me up, even when it feels like the world wants to tear me down. I don't want to be pretend boyfriends. I want you to be my real boyfriend. I just don't know what else to say. Just please tell me that you like me in the same way. Please." TJ looks like he is holding his breath waiting for a response.

Cyrus gives a small smile before reaching up and touching TJ's cheek. "I do. I do like you in the same way. I would love nothing more than being your real boyfriend. "

TJ let's out the air that moments ago was caught in his lungs. "Good." He laughs softly.

"But wait," Cyrus asks "If you liked me too, why did you run off today?"

"Because… because a minute ago, was my first kiss. I was so nervous in front of all those people. I didn't want to look stupid and I panicked." TJ turns his gaze away from Cyrus, almost ashamed to make eye contact.

"TJ, I get it. And I like this better anyways. Our relationship is on our terms, not Kira's. I can't believe I was your first kiss. You're so, I mean look at you. You are so adorable. I'm surprised people weren't lining up to kiss you."

"Cyrus, until you, I didn't want to kiss anyone." He blushes and Cyrus takes note of every detail on TJ's face.

"You mean that?"

"I've never meant anything more. So is it a yes to the boyfriend thing? Because I would like to try this kissing stuff again." He gives a cheesy grin at the shorter boy.

"Yea, it is a yes. But a las, you have to leave before my parents wake up. But The Spoon tomorrow for lunch?

"Definitely." TJ finally pulls off of Cyrus, making his way to the open window.

"TJ wait." Cyrus says.

"What is it, muffin?"

Cyrus blushes at the new nickname before stepping closer and placing little kiss on TJ's cheek. "Night Teej."

With a small wave, TJ is gone out the window.

Well neither of them are getting any sleep tonight.

#andi mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #cyrus #tj #kira

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soveryanon · 6 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG130 /o/

- Fun game!

(MAG106) BASIRA: Hm. I dunno, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist. […] Huff. That [INSERT TITLE HERE] needs to relax. MELANIE: Or at least find someone else to fuss over. BASIRA: Yeah, [x]’s got it bad. … Do you know if [x] and Jon ever…? MELANIE: No clue – and not interested.

Is this conversation between Melanie and Basira about: a) The Distortion about Jon? b) Elias about Jon? c) Martin about Jon? d) The Web about Jon? (Jon, you serial heartbreaker.)

In all seriousness (kind of.): the Web has it BAD about Jon, indeed. Which is necessarily not a good sign given that if someone from the Web were to tell you it wants you to carry its babies, you would have to understand that it means hollowing you out and turning you into a spider egg sack.

The Web sent him a lovely lighter in MAG035, that Jon still had on him as of MAG111, because Jon ~chose~ to go back to smoking after five years of quitting! Jon discovered the worms infestation back in MAG038 thanks to a lil’spider on a wall (BECAUSE OF COURSE: JONATHAN “I PERSONALLY READ MAG016’S STATEMENT ABOUT A GUY MINDCONTROLLED TO REPEATEDLY SMASH A SPIDER ON A WALL” SIMS ASSUMED THAT HIS OWN ACTIONS WERE HIS OWN AND TOTALLY NOT CONTROLLED UH.) Lovely helpful spiders eat the worms carcasses in the tunnels! Cobwebs were welcoming him into the wax museum when they were planting bombs in MAG118! “She” sent Handsome Black MLM Oliver to encourage him to wake up in MAG121! And now the spiders are leaving tapes for him in his desk when Jon is having trouble thinking about his next moves! uwu

… Meanwhile, what have you done for Jon, Beholding. You fucked up a perfectly functioning researcher, gave him anxiety, nightmares and the constant feeling of being watched, is what you did. (… Well, the Web also gave Jon trauma, misguided hatred, and a visceral phobia of spiders but HEY, at least, it’s giving Jon useful presents in his Quest!)

Oliver had confirmed that the Web had never really left Jon alone after all these years (MAG121: “But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what She asked!” and the mere fact that Oliver came… because “She” had sent him to talk to Jon), we still don’t know its/Her intentions and neither does Jon:

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: I found this tape tucked in the corner of my desk drawer. [AGGRAVATED SIGH] Covered in cobwebs. I suppose subtlety is gone out the window a bit. And the question is now simply … how much I trust the Spider to have my… best interests at heart. … Hm. I suspect my assuming it has a heart might be a clue I’m looking at this the wrong way.

(Obviously, the answer is that it wants to win YOUR HEART, Jon!!)

The Web has Plans Involving Jon, nothing new. And I have no serious ideas about why – seriously trying to woo him because Back Off Big Eyeball, We Saw Him First? Needing him to be ready for the Watcher’s Crown in some way either because it’s allied with Beholding, either because it needs the ritual to come close to completion in order to crash or hijack it? What was Jon supposed to make out of MAG130’s statement, and he did he completely miss the point or did he draw his own conclusions All According To Keikaku? … are they Jon’s own conclusions or The Web making him think about the conclusions It wanted.

I’m also wondering if, after all, Jon getting drawn to this and that statement since the beginning of season 4 wasn’t… Web-induced more that Beholding-induced. Actually, Jon has never explicitly said that knowing which statements to read, specifically, was coming from his Insights (the knowledge seeping through the cracks of the door):

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook […]. I’ve been staring at it for hours, in the hope something from it would just… come to me. And it worked well enough to point me towards this statement […].

(MAG127) BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLIPS PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin. To Daisy.

Is it knowledge seeping into his mind, or is it, let’s say, a web string pulling him in towards specific statements? Jon’s comment that “subtlety is gone out of the window” couuuuld possibly (it’s a possibility!) imply that he knows that the Web had been directing him towards them before (just… without wrapping them in cobwebs). Case in point, though: Jon got to Know about how Gertrude stopped The Buried through his Insights, and that one was pretty clearly Beholding-stamped. So, at the very least, it’s not only the Web teaching Jon about how Gertrude stopped the previous rituals. Somehow, both The Eye and The Web are glad to feed him the knowledge.

In the particular case of MAG130: this means that the Web has quite a strong hold on the Archives themselves – or did it send the tape randomly, à la Elias in season 3? (Your casual reminder that the conclusion of Jon’s thrilling saga of wondering for 20 episodes why Elias was sending him this or that file was: because Elias had no idea what the fuck he was doing.) And: where does this tape come from? We know there are more tapes than the ones Jon had listened to: Basira had been given three boxes of them when they discovered Gertrude’s body, and she gave him a few tapes and at least one of these boxes when she quit the police in MAG075. Leitner had told Jon, and then confirmed with Elias (MAG080), that Elias had gotten his hands of Gertrude’s files regarding The Stranger (and posssssibly about Beholding?) and Elias had indeed begun to send some of those documents in season 3 but explicitly refused to give them to Jon in one-go (MAG092), so drip-dropped them instead. Elias mentioned in MAG116 that he had taken Gertrude’s tapes into his “safekeeping” during Jon’s absence at the beginning of season 3, so he was still in possession of all of them at the end of the season.

Is MAG130 from Elias’s secret stash? Or from somewhere else, another hiding spot? In any case, it means that, in true spiders fashion, the Web can crawl its way into anywhere, unnoticed. It is there and it’s able to operate in the Institute. It knows the place as its own. (Is it also its own already…)

- Jon had wondered, a few times, why Gertrude was recording some statements and not others and… we still don’t have the answer to that?

(MAG044) ARCHIVIST: I will admit to some disappointment it doesn’t address any of my more… pressing questions about Gertrude’s tapes. Why did she begin recording them, and why stop? If she’d been doing so right up until her death, she would have likely gotten through much of the Archive […].

(MAG087) ARCHIVIST: I had assumed Gertrude had recorded to tape for a while and then stopped, but it sees she was recording them right up until the end. But if they did span decades of working at the Institute, why aren’t there more? And what decided which statements she transferred?

It’s a bit hard to guess a logic behind Gertrude’s recordings, but so far, we’ve listened to these ones, listed by order or recording (SINCE UNLIKE A CERTAIN SOMEONE, GERTRUDE ROBINSON HAD ENOUGH WORK ETHICS TO GIVE THE DATE OF HERS :wwww I’m not calling anyone out) (Jon, u suck.):

*04/11/1996: reading Lucy Cooper’s statement about the “Changeling / Imposter”, Not!Them (MAG077) *15/04/1997: reading Yuri Utkin’s statement about the Russian circus (MAG044) *05/09/1997: live statement of Walter Heller about the old Archives in Alexandria (MAG053) *02/09/2007: reading Robert E. Geiger’s statement about The Buried’s ritual coming close in America (MAG099) *03/07/2008: live statement of Mary Keay about getting her hands on the book of The End (MAG062) *19/12/2008: live statement of Lucia Wright about the Flesh’s ritual attempt in Istanbul (MAG130) *04/10/2013: reading Abraham Janssen’s statement about the last Stranger ceremony, in the Court Theatre Buda in October 1787 (MAG116) *04/04/2015: reading Sebastian Skinner’s statement about The Stranger’s people in the Gwydir Forest (MAG087)

Noteworthy: the oldest one that Jon accessed was about the Not!Them, and Gertrude had specifically highlighted (thanks to the statement-giver providing a recording of her true mother) that tapes were able to resist the Not!Them’s rewriting of reality:

(MAG077) GERTRUDE: It is at least reassuring to know that magnetic tape seems to escape being overwritten [by the Not!Them], so if I get changed, you can be sure this is my real voice. Based on Dekker’s statement, it would seem Polaroids are also relatively stable.

I could imagine that Gertrude might have recorded a few tapes with this in mind – in case the Not!Them would attack her, to leave some proofs of her existence and of her ongoing researches, since, following this one, almost all the statements that Jon listened to were tied to some aspects of rituals she was working on stopping. MAG044 dealt with a very active period of the Stranger’s Circus; MAG099 helped her narrow down the location of the Buried’s “Sunken Sky” (in America); MAG116 was a survivor describing the last Stranger’s ritual attempt; MAG087 was about the current activities of Stranger’s minions, now that the ritual was coming closer. The three other statements were lives: Mary Keay is an oddity, but Gertrude had sarcastically commented that it happened because Mary insisted on talking:

(MAG062) MARY: You… don’t really go out and look for yourself, do you~? Just wait here for the researchers’ leftovers. GERTRUDE: Mm! It’s not that bad. Sometimes, someone will insist on giving me a statement directly, though… I rarely see the point.

(YOUR CASUAL REMINDER THAT GERTRUDE WAS SAVAGE LIKE THAT.)

The other two dealt with what Gertrude suspected to be an old Archive (MAG053), and a witness testimony of the explosion that put a stop to The Flesh’s ritual (MAG130), so… still related to Gertrude’s activities: she had been searching for Walter specifically (MAG053: “It’s taken a long time to track down someone still living who found the Serapeum of Alexandria.”; the site was ~curiously~ bombed six months after she discussed its location, in March 1998) and she was in Istanbul ~in the flesh~ during “The Last Feast” (the old woman that Lucia spotted but didn’t recognize). Moreover, there are a few mentions alluding to the fact that she already had talked a bit with the statement-givers (and narrowed down what they experienced) before deciding to record their statement:

(MAG053) WALTER: Yeah, er, right. Er, wh–where do you want me to start? GERTRUDE: Well, you say you were serving in North Africa when it happened.

(MAG130) [CLICK–] GERTRUDE: Do you mind? LUCIA: What? Oh, hum. No. GERTRUDE: Excellent.

Whether live or written, was Gertrude almost only recording statements dealing with the rituals attempts? But then, it seems like there were three big periods of recording: 1996-1997, 2007-2008 and the last years of her carreer. We’re still back to Jon’s initial questions: why the gaps? Is it because tapes exist from the years in-between, but we only got a few samples that aren’t enough to discern anything conclusive…?

- But then, back to the usual question: what was the thing that made her decide to record Walter and Lucia live, when they could have… written it down or dictated it to another member of staff? (We know it was a thing that could be done in the 70s, with Nathaniel Thorp’s statement from MAG029.) (I doubt it’s Relevant but: fun thing! “Lucia Wright” shares her surname with the previous head of the Institute, “James Wright”, who ran the place from 1973 to 1996. Elias took over when he passed away.)

- Well, in Lucia’s case, it sounds like Gertrude’s initial intentions might have been a bit grim?!

(MAG130) LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: […] whatever nightmares your experience has left you with, I’m sure they won’t be bothering you much longer. […] GERTRUDE: Well…! That – is – a relief. When I heard there’d been survivors of “The Last Feast”, I was rather concerned that one of them might be able to positively identify me, [CHUCKLE] which could land me in all sorts of trouble! But she doesn’t seem to remember me at all.

What were you initially planning to do if she had remembered you, Gertrude.

Because, uuuuh… we know from Basira&Daisy’s exchange in MAG112 that they kept having “dreams” long after giving their statements to Jon; telling their stories didn’t allow them to get rid of the nightmares (it’s just that apparently, becoming an archival assistant cuts you off from them, and from Jon seeing them?). So, hum. Could Gertrude have been planning anything else than… straight-out murdering Lucia then and there, and only changed her mind when Lucia mentioned an old woman without linking her to Gertrude?

That aside… we got confirmation from Gertrude herself that she was aware that live statement-givers also give their dreams to the Archivist – the “slim collection of gifted nightmares” described by Elias in MAG120:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: […] I’m honestly impressed she had the strength to get through it, even if she does seem to have been… deeply affected by it. Shame about the dreams; I would avoid them if I could.

… Why couldn’t she in this case, though? Why did she have to take this one live, when we know that she tended to prioritize written ones (going as far as to ask François Deschamps to write down what he had witnessed alongside her in MAG102)?

There has been quite a huge amount of statement-givers mentioning their recurring nightmares when writing their statements; the specific of the Archivist receiving a live statement seems to be that it synchronizes their dreams a bit? Makes Jon able to see them? Or traps the people in his own nightmares of their experiences? (In Jon’s dreams, at least, the statement-givers blame him and feel like they’re here because of him.) Regarding Gertrude, there had been Adelard’s and Mikaele Salesa’s expectation that just writing their statements could have an effect too:

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) I’ll even make it a statement. Give your patron something to keep it satisfied. It’s not like I sleep enough to worry about dreams.

(MAG115, Mikaele Salesa) So it’s another statement is it? Like I owe you something? […] So I suppose if it’s a statement you’re wanting… it’s no inconvenience to me. I don’t sleep well anyway.

Does this mean they might have given live statements to Gertrude in the past, and assumed that writing it down would have the same effect? Does writing a statement end up having an effect on you, even though the Archivist doesn’t access those dreams? I wonder, now, if the dreams are not actually supposed to happen to… everyone touched or coming close to the Fears, and it's just that some people don’t think to mention their dreams in their statements? Adelard got interested in the case he described in MAG113 and was reminded of his hypothetical new emergence partially because people had been hurt when asleep – could it be that new emerging fears tend to first manifest through dreams…?

- Gertrude, are u lying through your teeth again.

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Are you quite ready? LUCIA: H… uh. Will it help? GERTRUDE: I’m sorry? LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like; that said, I do believe most people find the process of giving a statement to be rather… mm, cathartic.

I’m squinting at that “cathartic” (if it’s about the actual concept: WOOPSIE, catharsis in Greek drama does rely on you EXPERIENCING the terror and pity. It is not a nice process on the moment.)

Meanwhile, in Jon’s case, giving him a live statement has rarely been described as a nice experience for visitors, mostly because of Jon himself:

(MAG084) MELANIE: […] There’s nowhere left for me to go. I don’t know why, but… I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help. And talking things out with Jon. I mean. I mean he’s awful, but at least he listens, you know?

The only “positive” ones about it that I can think of are Helen, Tessa and Mike, and Oliver a bit (he was surprised to have managed it); and Julia, back with Gertrude, had felt that it helped:

(MAG047) ARCHIVIST: Perhaps. … Leave it with us, we’ll… do some digging and… see what we can find. HELEN: You believe me then! ARCHIVIST: I, er… yes. Yes, I think I do. (MAG101) ARCHIVIST: A– are you still going to kill me? HELEN: No. That was Michael’s desire, not mine. ARCHIVIST: So… S-So what do you want? HELEN: I don’t know. Helen liked you so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave. (MAG115) HELEN: Before, talking to you made Helen feel better. ARCHIVIST: You’re not. that. Helen! HELEN: I just want…! I just want to feel better.

(MAG065) TESSA: […] And it does feel good to talk about it. Y’know? ARCHIVIST: [LIGHT CHUCKLE] Yes, I… very much understand.

(MAG091) MIKE: Hm. You know? That was… that was nice. I’m not… not usually the sort for speeches, that was… pleasant change. So.

(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: Ah, yes. You–you know the Institute? JULIA: Oh yeah. Checked myself in there a while back. Ended up spilling my guts to this old woman about my dad, just letting it all out. ARCHIVIST: O–oh, that, that would be, er, Gertrude. My, my predecessor. JULIA: I didn’t catch her name. Weirdest thing, really. Didn’t mean to spill half of it, but. Really helped me put the pieces together, you know? ARCHIVIST: I’m… starting to.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Right. That’s a… hit, I suppose.

(But Oliver is cheating since Jon was still unresponsive when Oliver gave his statement – Oliver got Jon at His Best, uh.)

Then, I don’t have any doubt that Gertrude was probably better at sweetly coaxing people into telling their stories, rather than showing off in Jon’s apparent blunt manner (he does care!! But he’s also very off-putting, which… didn’t help when he was receiving statements.)

In the meantime: still nothing from Jon about his own dreams :www

- So Adelard also helped Gertrude in destroying the Gnostic temple!

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Well…! That – is – a relief. When I heard there’d been survivors of “The Last Feast”, I was rather concerned that one of them might be able to positively identify me, [CHUCKLE] which could land me in all sorts of trouble! But she doesn’t seem to remember me at all. […] Dekker really came through with the explosives! It almost felt like cheating. Sad about the loss of history but Miss Wright didn’t seem to think the old Gnostic church got many visitors anyway.

Gertrude sounded so giddy to have blown the place up, efdusijrezkds. Did she provide the explosives and he handled them? He was super interested in the stock she had managed to get for The Unknowing, in his letter from MAG113. They’re adorable. Old people saving the world and bonding over their creative use of explosives.

Interestingly, it seems that Gertrude kept her allies separate? Gerry and Leitner didn’t seem to know that Gertrude was working with the other (which… makes sense considering Gerry’s distaste of Leitner because of the books); but neither did they ever mention Adelard.

Which puts me to mind again: what happened to Adelard? We know that he came in contact with the Institute at least in 1991 (MAG077, Gertrude: “I suspect this to be the creature that Adelard Dekker refers to as the ‘NotThem’ in statement 9910607”), whether he was personally acquainted with Gertrude or not at the time. Since then, they’ve apparently been allies on multiple cases: they collaborated to blow up the Gnostic temple housing the Flesh’s ritual (MAG130), and Adelard moved out the plastic explosives for Gertrude because she felt that she was under surveillance (MAG113). That was chronologically the last time we’ve heard of him at this point – from a statement that, according to Jon, was “undated, likely circa 2012”. Did he die, since then…? Became something worse than dead…? Is he hiding somewhere…? Peter Lukas has been looking for his statements to get information but didn’t mention the possibility of tracking him down: it could be either for manipulation purposes (better to not let the Archives team meet Adelard, who specialises in dealing with spooky creatures, when you’re yourself a spooky creature), either because he knows that Adelard is not around anymore…? (Then, my bets for the culprit are the New Emergence he was investigating, or someone amongst the Lukases, or Peter PERSONALLY.) (Could be Elias, I guess, since Adelard must have been a bit old at this point, but we would need to know what his voice was, since Elias’s criteria for murdering people so far have been 1°) you must be old, 2°) you must be voiced by someone from Jonny’s family.)

- Something that I found quite interesting in the statement itself is that Lucia had, from an overall point of view, no relationship whatsoever with meat – no attraction to it, nothing from her personal history that would imply that she could get drawn or involved with the Flesh. But, at the same time, the evolution from her being fascinated by religion to the Flesh felt only natural because of the Eucharistic dimension, and by the fact that her own appreciation of churches was both spiritual and sensual?

(MAG130) LUCIA: […] I loved churches. These big… quiet… echoing spaces of peace and beauty, designed to quiet the soul and prepare it for communion with the divine. Even if I didn’t actually believe in the God they were supposed to house… I always found them… meditative. And whenever I went on one of my breaks, I’d always try to find a local church – hopefully… not too full of other tourists like me – and spend an hour or two in quiet contemplation. I’d listen to the shuffling footsteps of the other people, and breathe in the lingering smell of incense, before lighting a candle to my grandmother.

With the Demiurge in mind, it’s almost surprising that The Flesh is (officially) the last Fear to have emerged (Gerry had mentioned that it had begun its ascendance around the time Robert Smirke had established his list of fourteen); but at the same time, you would have to fear the specific aspect of it as related to Flesh bending, twisting, getting reduced to a pulp, etc.? In True Flesh Fashion, Lucia ended up getting very conscious of that aspect during the whole ordeal (THANKS FOR MY WEDNESDAY’S DINNER, JONNY):

(MAG030, David Laylow) “There’s not so much difference between people and animals, you know? […] Weirdest thing is, you start to kind of see people as meat too. Not in a food sort of way, you know. I don’t wanna eat my co-workers. It’s just that, when you spend all day taking these living, breathing creatures – animals that move and cry and tremble in fear – and you turn them into lifeless blocks of dead flesh, it’s hard to believe in any special spark that makes us humans any different.”

(MAG072, Craig Goodall) “There’s nothing inherently special about us. We feel as much pain, see the world with the same eyes as a real pig. Meat is meat. That’s what John Haan said when they arrested him. The only thing he said. Meat is meat. […] It looked like this was what the kid had been doing. He’d been spraying the phrase ‘MEAT IS MEAT’ onto the door of the freezer, but the cops must have gotten him before he’s finished, so what was actually written upon the matt silver surface were the words ‘MEAT IS ME’.”

(MAG130) LUCIA: […] Squirming limbs were dragging, rising, extracting themselves from this mound of flesh, and making their way down to join their companions on the ground, one by one. Most of them could still be mistaken for humans at a distance, a few even wore clothes. […] All through this, the mouth got closer and closer to the edge of the pit, the pile of flesh within it larger and larger, sat there in an awful, half-solid slurry, chewed and crushed together. It was impossible to tell what had once been animal, and what might once have been us. It was all just meat.

-Curiously, Lucia didn’t mention any anchor in her statement? Orrr was it, in her case, an anchoring thought?

(MAG130) LUCIA: My back was screaming, my legs were weak, and my mind was numb from terror. But I was spurred on by one thing: the woman with the backwards arms had fallen, some time in the night, and her companions had shown no hesitation. They had gripped her shoulders, hoisted her up, and hurled her straight into the gaping maul. I swore it wouldn’t happen to me.

Could it be the focus that matters, more than thinking about something/someone from outside of the box? Focusing on something, whatever it is, and preventing the Fears from getting to you and swallowing you whole? It’s also how Basira had managed to exit The Unknowing on her own… So in the same way: would going into the coffin with the clear resolution of finding Daisy and getting back out with her be enough…?

- We’re slowly completing the list of failed rituals from the current batch!!

*The Buried: “Sunken Sky”, 17th June, 2008. (<- Vast-touched Jan Kilbride was thrown in pieces into the pit.)

*The Flesh: “The Last Feast”, October 2008 (since it was (until now.) the new Baby, this was probably only its first or second ritual attempt? Awww ;w; (Don’t worry, you’ll get used to seeing your ritual derailed.) (WE HOPE.) <- also with this one that Gertrude apparently confirmed that she could deal with the rituals with non-spooky means (maybe… Jan Kilbride… would have liked to know that a few months earlier…))

*The Spiral: “The Great Twisting”, somewhere during October 2009 or shortly after. (<- No explosives for this one, Michael Shelley gave an Identity to the Distortion instead.)

*The Stranger: “The Unknowing”: 6th August 2017. (<- TIM WAS THE BOMB…)

*The Eye: “The Watcher’s Crown”, incoming and Jon Has Suspicions about the year 2018. (<- Gertrude had a Plan for this, MAG080 seems to hint at “Fire.”)

Unclear: The Dark (15th May 2015? 10th February 2017? It Was Coming Soon according to Nathalie Ennis), The Desolation (before April 2015).

No indication (yet?): The Lonely (I’m very subjectively suspecting that this one might not have a ritual, since “almost” all of the Fears have one according to Gerry, and that that’s why the Lukases are collaborating with various other Entities’ clusters by throwing money at them), The End (I’m also thinking that this one could turn out to not actually have a ritual?), The Vast (are they planning to yeet Earth into Space), The Hunt (Gertrude was not convinced but mentioned that it could happen in America), The Slaughter (… we got a few statements showing that when a Slaughter event happens, it goes HARD anyway, so I fear (ha) what its ritual attempt would look like – maybe during a recent war or civilian repression?), The Corruption (though might have tried something in the tunnels below the Institute during The Hive’s invasion, given the ring of worms? Though it would sound a bit low-scale, since only Jane Prentiss was there…), The Web (Though There Is The Matter Of What The Heck Is The Deal With The House On Hill Top Road).

- Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight, so:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: […] Tom Haan might be a bit more of a problem, as it looks like he also survived, but I’m hopeful he has been weakened enough by this failure to not be an issue in the near future. Hopefully, he’ll fade away or burn out, as they tend to when robbed of their purpose. Still… I should keep a watch on him in case of any erratic behaviour that might lead to complications. Also worth watching out for any additional esoteric fall-out from the ritual attempt, like that Carlisle boy down in Wandsworth.

a) If I remember, Craig Goodall (the statement-giver from MAG072) had never explicitly mentioned that the Chinese-looking man that had attacked him was “John Haan” (the original owner of the takeaway restaurant, who had been arrested years before the events) – the fire was reported on 27th September 2009, almost a year after the Flesh’s ritual attempt, and the avatar talked about the relation between meat and religion… so indeed, it was probably Tom Haan there, too (I had been a bit confused, back then, unsure if it was John or Tom)?

b) Alright, and MAG030’s events happened in July 2013, we don't know of Tom Haan having been spotted since then, and what was described really sounded like… he put an end to Things then. So same as Breekon, maybe: he faded/self-destructed?

c) Toby Carlisle from MAG018 (“The Man Upstairs”) confirmed as Flesh! Though apparently, he didn’t participated to the ritual, dying in October 2007, although he was affected by its imminence.

I’m late to the party, only realizing now that the “Mrs. Carlisle” whose husband’s corpse wanted her to cannibalize him in 1845 (MAG058) shared her surname with “Toby Carlisle” – both about (MEAAAT) Flesh. Which means that Mrs. Carlisle probably gave in and ate her husband after her statement in order to survive, after all? And that one of her descendants was also Flesh-related? And we already knew about the fact that two people from the Haan family had a special relationship with meat?

We have the Carlisles, the Haans, the von Closens/Keays, the Lukases… Maybe Gerry had been a bit wrong in saying that the Fears don’t care at all about blood? Or are they, like the Fairchilds, adoptive families and the Lukases are still an exception?

- ;; Insisting on this: according to Gertrude, (avatars? monsters?) tend to “burn out when robbed of their purpose”, which indeed seems to have happened to Tom Haan four years and a half after his failed ritual. That…………………… is a short life expectancy if you fail indeed…………….. So even assuming that Jon is still alive (well, “not dead”) when a Watcher’s Crown attempt will be made, and even if he doesn’t die during it, and even if it is stopped in time… it means that Jon would be done for anyway.

Counter-points though: *Jared Hopworth began experimenting with The Boneturner’s Tale starting in 1996 and we know that he was still active and very chill About His Life in 2012 (MAG090). Though… did he even participate in that “Last Feast”, or did he just ignore it to keep doing his own thing?

*Jude Perry didn’t look especially erratic when we met her in 2017 in MAG089, although Gertrude had mentioned that The Lightless Flame’s plans had been stopped shortly before she recorded MAG087’s statement in April 2015 (“their own plans have so recently, erm, gone up in flames.”) So… we’ll… “see”…

- Once again, I really have no idea what state Daisy will be in, assuming that Jon does even manage to get her out of the coffin and that she’s still breathing (even if, hum, not human-shaped or human-minded)……………. But listen. Listen. We had an example of Jon managing to ground someone through compulsion: he did that to Tim during The Unknowing, and it worked! Forcing people to admit the truth manages to get their awareness back!

(MAG118) ARCHIVIST: Tim!! [STATIC:] What do you see? TIM: I see my asshole boss! W– wait… wait… […] ARCHIVIST: Tim! [STATIC:] What’s in your hand? TIM: It’s… I don’t… the– the– … the detonator…

My shipper heart really really hopes that Jon might compulse Daisy into remembering Basira, asking her ~who is it who matters to her~, since Basira was, almost literally, presented as Daisy’s anchor (MAG092, Elias: “the only person you care about […].Your last connection to humanity.”)

Problems: as of MAG122, Jon didn’t remember anything of the Unknowing past Gertrude’s entrance, which means… not remembering Tim’s last moments. And: Jon still had trouble pinning down the relationship between Basira and Daisy in MAG117 (“I–I– I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone.”), so… I’m not sure he would think of this option. Jon often has troubles with people’s relationships ;;

SO IT MAKES IT EVEN MORE VALUABLE THAT HE’S GOING TO TRY, ANYWAY, TO SAVE DAISY FROM THE COFFIN……………… Daisy who tried to kill him, who threatened him a few times afterwards, but whom he seemed to kinda like in his own awkward way? Jon really doesn’t want to lose anyone anymore, uh. (;; They’ve not been mentioned recently, but you can still feel the ghosts of Sasha and Tim lingering around.)

- YEAAAAH so Jon is getting ready to get injured again, and he does it in the most self-deprecating, heartbreaking way:

(MAG130) ARCHIVIST: […] What was it she said, “the siren call of Flesh��… Hm. It’s possible, I suppose. It would… hurt, but… Well. What’s another scar? … It’s been two weeks since I heard from Basira. I’m not waiting any longer. I’m getting Daisy back. End recording.

JON ;;;;;

a) If it is indeed a Flesh-related scar (will he get his hands on something from Artefact storage? or would it be “Flesh”-compatible by the simple fact of purposely injuring oneself?): Jon… is making progress on completing the set of Entity-related wounds. And we know he’s aware that it’s been a lot of injuries (MAG127: “Just another scar for the collection!”), but did he notice that he’s been covering all the Fears? We still don’t know for sure if the diversity is relevant, but it’s been a noticeable pattern (for listeners), and it sounds really suspicious… especially when keeping in mind how Elias had described the Archivist’s role (MAG092: “It is your job to chronicle these things, to experience them, whether first-hand or through the eyes of others. To simply be told, well…”).

Jon was touched by the Web when he was a child (MAG081: “The first of the dark powers to touch me, perhaps, but it did not claim me.”); he’s Beholding’s Archivist. As for the Corruption, he got almost eaten alive by Jane Prentiss’s worms (MAG039); “Michael” from the Spiral stabbed him when he tried to retrieve Helen (MAG047); Jude Perry from the Desolation burned his hand through a handshake (MAG089); Mike Crew made him experience the Vast and probably fucked up his lungs a bit (MAG091); Daisy strangled him and/or cut his neck (MAG091); the Not!Them toyed with his memories of Sasha (starting MAG040), Nikola punched(?) him (MAG097) and held him captive for a month (MAG101), and Jon ultimately experienced the Stranger’s Unknowing himself, getting temporarily lost in the madness (MAG118+MAG119); the End couldn’t totally get his grasp on him while Jon was in his coma but Jon was then “balanced on an edge” (MAG121); Melanie stabbed him in the shoulder with a scalpel while she was infected by the Slaughter (MAG125); since Peter Lukas has been running the Institute, Jon has mentioned multiple times that he was feeling alone/lonely, which… could be a Lonely-induced state of mind (MAG125, MAG129), with everyone drifting away because of its effects.

Jon is still missing the Buried, the Flesh and the Dark. If Jon is getting his scars from the Buried AND the Flesh in one go, he will only be missing the Dark’s (and potentially the unidentified ~New Emergence~), which is already lurking around the Institute.

It’s going FAST.

b) Jon has been holding back, so well and on multiple accounts é_è He stuck with it and didn’t try to come in contact with Melanie! If he didn’t lie by omission, he has been managing to not Know about Basira’s current activities (MAG129: “I haven’t heard from Basira, since she left on whatever secret errand”)!! Well, he went to see Martin when he got the Insight that he was around in MAG129, but Martin hadn’t told him to “stop finding” him yet, so Jon didn’t break any promise. And, well, although he’s resolving to go into the coffin at the end of MAG130… he managed to not try anything since Basira left two weeks ago, and she’s been taking longer than what she had announced (MAG128: “I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me.”); the fact that Basira is still not coming back indeed changes the paradigms a bit. (What is she doing… Where did Elias send her to… Was Elias’s plan precisely to remove her from the Institute, to get Jon more prone to getting involved himself…)

Even statements-wise!

MAG121 (+MAG122?): February 15th 2018 MAG123: February 17th (“Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.”) MAG124: February 24th~ (“It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened.”) MAG125: ? MAG126: ? MAG127: ? MAG128: 3rd March (Basira leaving) MAG129: ? MAG130: 17th~ March (“It’s been two weeks since I heard from Basira”)

There was a very intense period from MAG124 to MAG128, but since Basira’s departure, it seems that Jon has gone back to the casual and safe rhythm of one statement a week. Take that, Elias and your “And I know you’ve had problems with moderation.” :www Jon has been doing good on his own!

c) It’s SAD, once again, that Jon reached the conclusion that he had to do something by himself, and that this something involved getting hurt. I don’t see any of the others taking it kindly: Melanie could be indifferent, but Basira will probably point out that Jon didn’t prove himself trustworthy (going into the coffin when she had told him not to) and Martin… would probably scream at Jon a bit for getting injured.

But at the same time, yes, what is Jon supposed to do? He lost Sasha when he was ignorant; he lost Tim when he was knowledgeable, and thought that Daisy had disappeared too. Jon is still the one who has the best chance of not dying; he’s the one with the most powers; he proved that he could neutralise Breekon when he was on the verge of attacking. Of course that, now that he’s discovered that he could possibly “undo” another death, and if the only downside would be him getting injured… he would take that chance. Especially when Gertrude casually mentioned that:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Also… I can’t rely on having this much lead time. I’ve had ten years tracking supplicants drawn by the siren call of Flesh, watching them gradually stockpiling meat. Very useful, in terms of preparation time for derailing the final push, but in future… I think I need to get a little bit more… proactive.

Meaning she let a few members of The Flesh run wild for ten years, for the Greater Good of “derailing” their ritual later. Meaning she probably allowed them to hurt, torture and kill innocent people all this time. Typical Gertrude and she had her priorities (saving the world, and at what cost?). Jon’s priorities are… Well. We don’t officially know them, but the assistants seem to be pretty much at the top of his list right now.

And damnit!! Jon tried to reach out to the others, to explain to them what was happening! He tried to infodump to Martin! He confessed to Martin that he missed him and was worried for him! He told Basira about his new powers and told her they were on the same side! And Martin and Basira both chose to remain solo in their own quests. But Jon tried; it has nothing to do with the way he tried to protect Tim and Martin at the end of season 2, or the way he avoided all the assistants before Nikola kidnapped him in season 3 (MAG098, Martin: “Yeah, we talked. Not long, he– Y’know, I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine.”) He tried and just spent two weeks with the coffin for sole company, knowing that there could be a chance of rescuing Daisy and knowing that she is not having a great time inside (MAG128, Breekon: “You can stare at it, knowing how your feral friend suffers, knowing how powerless you are to help. And when you can’t bear it any longer, knowing that you can climb in and join her…”).

Jon is only finding another way now because communicating didn’t work when all he got was doors getting shut in his face. He would even have reasons to snap if someone were to reproach him for trying something alone… ;;

- Regarding MAG131, since we already have the title, I wiiiiish we could have Melanie stopping Jon dead (…) in his tracks and instead giving him a statement of The Flesh attack on the Institute, but alas :| If Jon is planning to amputate (perhaps temporarily, before sewing it back? He said “another scar”, didn’t mention a missing body part) or hurt himself (blood to attract Daisy once inside?), I don’t knoooow what he would aim for. Something grand and over the top like HIS HEART, SINCE HE MENTIONED THE WEB’S “HEART”? Something symbolically appropriate like his eyes (L I S T E N, ~THE RELATION BETWEEN EYES AND KNOWLEDGE~ HAS BEEN AN OLD ONE SINCE ŒDIPUS………………)? His head? … Honestly, I think I would be more disturbed if it turned out to be something small and… closer to a real-life injury (a finger, a bit of an ear, etc.) Another option would have been to use The Boneturner’s Tale or to ask for Jared’s, uh, “help” (stealing bones/organs directly from Jon), since Gregory Pryor had mentioned how he could still feel his own bones “twisting in someone else’s arm” after they had been stolen from him in MAG049, but we don’t know where the book is, The Flesh already tried to destroy the Archives when Jon was in a coma (they’re not allies), and Jon seemed keen on acting as fast as possible. Still, not totally excluding the possibility of Jon taking the time to go after a Flesh avatar in MAG131 (although it sounds like he’s getting ready to jump in the coffin already). Martin had even highlighted that he couldn’t be sure whether “J”’s gym was still running or not since August 2013 (MAG090: “The, um… the supplemental materials that should go with this statement, providing more details on addresses, names, and stuff, seems to be missing, so we don’t have any way of tracking down the gym, or finding out the name the business might be operating under. Not without a 2013 copy of the Aberdeen Yellow Pages. A bit of relief, in some ways.”) Orrrr I guess that Jon could also be cunning and only pretending to totally miss the point, just to make The Web freak out and come out of its hiding spot to stop him, but Jon hasn’t been hiding from his recording since the whole Sceptical Show from season 1… So I don’t know. (Why are you so intent on getting honest on tape now that you know that Fear entities are listening to you, Jon?)

Re: the coffin, by the way. I wonder how we would be “told” of what is happening down there, if Jon goes inside? Would we witness it live, through a tape recorder? Would we get the reactions from people outside (Martin, Melanie and/or Basira) while Jon still hasn’t come back, before Jon would give a quick summary? Would Jon (or Daisy) give a full statement of what happened? … Would Elias give a Statement Never Given of the whole thing? (In that case, I’d really hope that Jon’s anchor would turn out to be MARTIN INDEED IN THE END, because then, Elias would have to narrate the whole ordeal, and I’m ALL for Elias’s pain while he would grit his teeth with utter disgust, come on, you know you want it too.)

And still no idea about Jon’s anchor /o/ I said last time that I felt that MAG129 was precisely introducing the idea that it wouldn’t be Martin, since Martin told Jon to stop “finding” him… but it wouldn’t mean that Jon would stop. And it’s one of the few things that Jon actively seeks out himself – the tape recorders are the ones stalking him, for example, and sadly so was The Distortion (;; I want Helen baaaack…). We don’t know whether he tends to go back to the Web’s lighter or if it’s the lighter which stuck to him.

The call of a cigarette? The Archives themselves? The Eye’s presence? The jar containing Jane Prentiss’s ashes? Jon’s fondness for meat? (MAG115: “I suppose in some ways it’s strange I’m not a vegetarian yet, what with everything I know. But… I rather think someone in my position has to take their small pleasures where they can, and if it occasionally delights some grotesque meat-god, well... c’est la vie.”) Regrets about his life choices?

#tl dr i have no idea and i'm scared :|#the magnus archives #mag130 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #tma spoilers

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dr-gloom · 6 years ago

Text

Kintsukuroi

A continuation of Fall Apart, loooong overdue! Thank you everyone for being patient with me while I worked up the focus and motivation to write this. I hope you like it as much as I! <3

Fandom: Sander’s Sides

Pairing: none

Words: 1,207

Summary: Virgil is trying to recover from his soul-shattering breakup with Roman, reminded that the world won’t stop for his depression. He learns to pick himself back up and gains a nugget of wisdom from an unlikely source.

Tags/Warnings: depression, Human AU, recovery, basically vent-fic-part-2

A/N: so yeah, just like Fall Apart, this is based heavily on real life. The only real difference is that I never met a Patton.

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

@hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @unbefuckinglieveable @punsterterry

To say that things got better would be a complete fucking lie.

In the remainder of his shitty summer vacation, Virgil only really left his bed to use the bathroom or eat when the hunger became unbearable. He slept a majority of the time, turning his back on the sunlight shining through his blinds in a mocking reminder that just because his world was falling apart, that didn’t mean the real world was. He was numb. And when he wasn’t numb he was heartbroken, or angry. He had no one to talk to about it because Logan wasn’t the most empathetic person out there and Roman still had him blocked.

Roman.

Virgil couldn’t stop asking himself what he’d done wrong. How had he screwed this up? He thought they were doing great, he thought Roman loved him. What was he talking about in that last message?

He wished he could just ask.

When he felt up to it, he brought up Tumblr on his phone to scroll through it and distract his mind. That became rather hard when half the posts were about people venting their problems and talking about how depressed they were, though. He remembered back when he was new to Tumblr and had just followed all of these blogs, how happy and dumb and funny everyone was. Now they all just logged on to use Tumblr as a personal diary.

He deleted his blog the next day.

Eventually he has to force himself out of bed to go to his fall classes. No matter how low he’s feeling or how much he hates himself he’s always been a good student, and it wouldn’t stop just because he was alonealonealone a little depressed. His classes gave him plenty to focus on to distract himself, making his mind numb, empty of free thought and only capable of answering homework questions or performing basic tasks like showering and eating.

Logan still messaged him at least once a week to ask how he was doing, if he wanted to hang out, or just to make sure Virgil was still alive. Virgil hardly ever responded, and when he did it was short one- or two-word answers. He didn’t want to talk to Logan. He didn’t want to talk about what happened and how he was doing and how his thoughts were cognitive distortions. He knew Logan meant well, but he just… He didn’t think he could deal with that right now, so he was all but avoiding the other, claiming to be swamped with school.

It wasn’t a total lie; this was his last semester before fieldwork, so he’d needed to shove as many classes into these sixteen weeks as possible. Eighteen units, the absolute max they would allow, and even though that usually meant homework all day every day, he still found himself with some free time. God, he was so bored.

So he made a new Tumblr.

He felt bad abandoning the friends he’d made on his old Tumblr, but he wasn’t interested in the same things anymore and they were all so depressed and…. He just. Didn’t need that.

He spent an obsessively-long time trying to think of a new URL. For some reason, he found himself cycling through the nicknames Roman had given him over the months.

doom-and-gloom? Nope, taken.

dark-stormy-knight? Nah. Damn.

surley-temple? Taken.

jack-smellington? Taken.

Taken.

God dammit.

Virgil groaned, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Without thinking too much of it - it was probably taken - he types in ‘dr-gloom’.

Not taken.

He grins for the first time in weeks as he finishes going through the mandatory bullshit to set up his blog and find people to follow. Sure, he looks up some of the people he used to follow and follows them on this new blog, but he doesn’t tell them who he is.

This is a new beginning, after all.

He’s already decided that this blog will be more positive. He’ll be the positivity he wanted when he was hurting. It’s… out of character for him, but that doesn’t mean it can’t become a part of him. By being others’ positivity, he can be his own too.

As he finds more people to follow and his dash is filled with posts, something inside him - a gut instinct he’s learned not to ignore - tells him to message people. Not everyone; specific URLs stick out to him and he can’t help but feel like maybe the universe is telling him who needs his help. It’s stupid, and maybe a little egotistical, but after he sends the messages he feels…. Good. He sends good morning and good night messages to ten strangers-turned-family every day, regardless of how he feels inside, and little by little he finds that he’s not as depressed as he used to be. His daily ritual actually picks up his mood as he reads the responses from people and talks to them through PMs.

He does this for nearly two months before someone randomly messages him one day. The URL reads ‘pattoncakes94’, the icon most likely a selfie of possibly the cutest, bubbliest person Virgil has ever seen.

pattoncakes94 hey! just wanted to come say hi! i love those messages you send to people, it’s a great idea!

He takes entirely too long trying to come up with something to say that doesn’t sound too cheery, hyper, or creepy.

dr-gloom uh thanks

He face-palms. He sounds like a jackass!

pattoncakes94 oh! sorry, i should probably introduce myself, huh? im patton (he/him/his)! im 24, i looooove cats and puns and cookies and sweaters, and im a taurus!

Virgil snorts. Oh my god, this guy’s a dork.

dr-gloom thats cool uh im virgil 20 he/him/his i like music, nightmare before christmas, and deathnote and im a leo i think i dont really do the astrology thing

pattoncakes94 oh, thats okay! its just kinda fun, i dont actually believe in those daily astrology things what kinda music do you like?

The next few hours go like this, with the two men chatting about anything and everything. Virgil didn’t even know how two people could talk this long without the conversation feeling strained or boring. He hated small talk, but for some reason he found himself enjoying talking to Patton. The conversation flows seamlessly, Patton filling any possible pauses or lulls with his own little anecdotes or questions.

Over the next few weeks, whenever he’s in a bad mind space Virgil messages Patton. Patton never asks what’s bothering him or pressures him into opening up. Instead, he willingly provides a distraction and chats with Virgil until he’s laughing in the comfort of his room, heart light and mind clear. His favorite conversations were the ones that were the most random, but led to Virgil learning something new.

pattoncakes94 hey, you ever heard of kintsugi? also known as kintsukuroi

dr-gloom no…? what is it

pattoncakes94 it’s this japanese thing, it’s so cool! basically they take broken pottery and fix it with gold, silver, or platinum instead of throwing it out!

dr-gloom why? sounds like a waste of time

pattoncakes94 because they saw the beauty in those flaws in the cracks and breaks because just like people, it’s the blemishes that make them beautiful

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #deceit sanders #emile picani

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thewildheroine · 6 years ago

Text

Fly Away |Twenty-Six|

Warnings: Injury

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I only have like... ten more followers until I hit 500 and I don’t know how? Thank you for liking and enjoying me!!! I love all of you guys and if you want me to do anything just let me know!🖤🖤🖤

|Masterlist|

____________

I wake to pain, like the past five mornings. Peter’s arms wrap themselves around my waist, his fingers still drawing lines along my hip bone. His short nails lightly scrape my skin as they move upwards. My gaze lingers on his messy hair before looking up at the ceiling. There are little holes drilled by water in the plaster. It must be old because it hasn’t rained in days. Nor has it snowed. The sun and moon haven’t gone round and round, chasing each other in the sky like they should. When I look out the window, all I see is a sky of kaleidoscopic light and color crashing into each other. No more moons or suns, no more snow or rain, no more gleaming blue skies or even people walking down the sidewalk. Only neons that could burn a person’s retina if they look too long.

I slide out of bed carefully as to not wake up Peter. He groans behind me before going to find something else to curl his arms around. Grinning, I pull on the tearing sweater I left on the nightstand the night before along with the sling I choose to ignore most days and step out of our room.

While it may be dark there is still enough light coming from outside to allow me to amble down the long hall. I do my best to ignore the neon pink and green orbs that drift across the wall next to me. They curve around the corners, stalking me. Without realizing it I’ve stopped. The neon reflections fall across my placid expression, hovering a moment before carrying on, heading the instructions of whatever has created them.

Down the hall, I can hear footsteps. Too far apart and quiet to be Peter’s. I mentally prepare myself for a conversation with Strange. All week most of our conversations have been simple niceties. "Hey" exchanged between us every time we see each other in the hall, him requesting that I take my medicine, me resigning into myself and swallowing them. There may be the occasional, "how are you feeling". Sometimes a little sprinkle of an idea for saving our friends. Never anything more.

After I finally realized what I heard in his voice that day I’ve had no desire to talk to him. Pride, adoration, kindness. Real, true, sincere feelings that I very vaguely remember hearing about six years ago during the most intensive part of my training. It’s how my dad should’ve been every day.

“You should be sleeping,” Strange informs like it’s a fact I haven’t already realized. That's the tone I prefer most of all. Blatant and to the point like a doctor“What woke you up?” This time I hear it in his voice. The distant memory.

I snicker. “A nightmare,” I mumble, my eyes still focusing on the distorted celestial bodies. How much longer, I think to myself, before that’s Earth?

“Have you been getting a lot of those lately?” he wonders. My jaw clenches, frustration boiling within me all the sudden like a dangerous parasite we may have discussed in class months ago. I shake my head to try and dispel it, but the emotion still lingers.

“What does it matter?” I reply. “So what if I am? Are you going to heat up some milk and read a children’s book like Maxims Primer to me?” When I take a glance at Stephan he seems more taken aback by the comment than annoyed. He stares at me for a moment and then out of the window.

“Last time I checked,” he remarks, “Maxim's Primer is not a kid’s book.”

“It was for me,” I tell him, my lips pressed into a tight lie. “So was Astronomia Nova, Key of Solomon, Codex Imperium…. Almost anything you thought was a difficult read when you got to Kamir Taj.” Strange chuckles to himself, somehow finding more humor in my comment rather than insult. He gives me another sidelong glance.

“Do you get off on acting facetiously when it comes to your own problems?” he asks. I shrug back and stare out at the bright sky. A little horror spreads through me as I watch a giant sphere smash into what little remains of the Earth already, leaving a dark stain in its wake. The world shakes a little and I place my sore hand against the window sill to balance myself.

“I do when there are bigger things than my mental stability at stake,” I answer once the Earth stops its weeping.

“Look, I’m only worried the nightmares have to do with the time stone. That's all.” Although it’s a valid reason I still find myself rolling my eyes at his claim.

“You don’t need to worry. It’s not your place to worry.”

“Actually,” Stephen begins, his voice turning stern, “it is my place as your mentor and the person who has promised to protect you.”

“And you’ve done such a good job at that,” I spew my words at him while turning towards Strange, aggression etched into the movement. Now I find that he is completely expressionless; whatever he may be feeling hidden far, far away in his mind so that I can’t see it while he eyes something outside. “Strange, back off. I don’t need your pestering and I don’t need you acting like my-”

Before, I can finish something rolls up my throat. At first, I only gag on the peculiar thing, the taste of metallic mixed with something unknown coiling through my taste buds. When I look up Strange is staring out the window sill, not realizing quite yet what’s happening. I lurch forward abruptly, the thing desperate to leave.

Then the air starts leaving my lungs and I go to grab my throat. Next to me, Stephen is saying something but everything becomes a blur. Black spots start to collect over my vision, threatening me with unconsciousness that could lead to something even worse.

But before that can happen I choke up what was clogging my windpipe and spit it into my hand. I feel the weightlessness of the object as I catch my breath. My mind then focuses on the little pool of hot, wet stuff lying in the center of my palm, waiting for me to realize what it is.

Through the haze I see the bright red smoke spilling past my fingers. It seemingly appears to be coming from the dark circle of crimson I caught.

“Strange?” I ask almost silently. My breath turns to mist in the randomly freezing air. When I look up I find that I’m not even in the Sanctum Sanctorum anymore. I’ve been cast onto the cold New York streets. I glance around, fear and curiosity working harmoniously inside of my mind.

All the lights, whether they’re in buildings or lining the streets, have changed to an eerie shade of purple that leaves a stain in my eyelids. Above sphere’s swarm what remains of the Earth like hungry maggots. In the distances I can see one neon pink orb smash into a series of buildings, sending dust and debris flying. I expect there to be at least one scream of terror. One final act of fear before the end comes. There is no cry though and if anyone could’ve been in those buildings they’re already gone by now, laying among the rubble and acting as a martyr to one of the few people left to care.

I gulp down the guilt that collects in my throat like a thick stone I can barely breathe through and look down the opposite end of the street. Empty plastic bags drift around on an invisible breeze. Puddles sit in potholes waiting, the sun never shining down to take them away. Buildings lining the street having symbols of the dark dimension written all over them in angry red paint. Dried droplets drip down the rough bricks, every crevice catching more of the neon stuff to make the symbol seem even more monstrous.

Every nerve in my body stings as I stumble forward, eyeing signs along the way. A conspicuous humming murmurs in my mind and I somehow manage to capture the emotion that thrives within it. Horror. It shakes through my core as I pass by the front door of what I assume is a theater because of the different deteriorating show posters plastered to it.

Out of instinct, I let two blue shields appear in my hands in case I’m in more danger than one would expect. My magic clings to me helplessly. I pray that it's just nervous for some non-existent reason but as I turn into what I know as Time Square, I realize that there is an explanation for the anxiety both me and my abilities feel.

The clump in my throat grows again as I gape at the area in front of me. Above is a halo of fiercely glowing planets I hadn’t noticed before circling the entire area and acting as sentries to whatever may lay below. Like everywhere else, the lights around me have turned purple. The ones here are far more terrifying though because of the threatening size of each glowing sign. They gaze down at me like wide, gaping eyes. Something growls inside of me again, only this time I realize that it isn’t my magic, but the stone trying to tell me to run away. Although I hear the warning, something draws me closer and closer.

My insides ache as I approach the bright purple steps at the end of Times Square. Giant signs have toppled over and onto the pavement below, digging into the cement and ripping it to shreds. Their wires revealed and somehow still sparking with electricity. I plod over a path painted in bright blue that the Dark Dimension must've chipped and clawed at during its take over. The gates that once kept people away from the bright, destination-less steps have been blown to the sides as if in preparation for my arrival.

I cross the metal grates that power the entire square and mount the first step. Then the second and the third and so on. The time stone writhes inside of my body, tirelessly trying to tell me to get away while I can. But I hear a call. A low purr that drags me up these tainted steps so that I can reach the top. The time stone keeps trying though. It grabs at my legs and tries to hold them down, pushes at my chest to keep me back, digs sharp knives into my abdomen to slow the steps I make. My magic slams it into submission though and while it still bites and claws for release I’m able to take control.

“Welcome,” a voice says. It’s rough and despicably low. A voice that I’ve heard in my nightmares a million times before. Never like this though. Never so real.

All of the sudden a flume of smoke bursts past my face. I’m forced to shield my eyes from the stinging substances that surrounds me. The time stone has recoiled inside of me knowingly, and now I finally have a true opportunity to fear for what is coming.

As the black smoke begins thinning I open my eyes. The very little material that made it past my lips is coughed up from my lungs hoarsely, stinging the raw skin on it’s way out. My sling strains against my shoulder while I raise my head to look at whatever summoned the smoke.

Automatically, I’m met with a bright purple eye five times large than my body that reflects the light all around New York and possibly the world. If I didn’t know any better I would say I was looking into a whole other galaxy or a glowing nebula. But I do know better.

“I’ve waited so long to meet my prophet,” Dormammu, informs, his voice vibrating the whole earth. I wish I could hiss back at him. Never in my whole life have I wanted to fight as much as I do now, yet not been able to. This is the face of my maker. A face that is a constant state of rippling with dark, tar-like water. The edges of what I think is his body, fade into smoke and fire, making it hard for me to tell where he begins and ends. Engraved into the lines of his body is molten lava that spurts and roars viciously.

He shrinks down to a much more comprehensible size and what I believe is a smile spreads across his face. I fear that it may be from realizing I can’t manage a single word to voice back to him.

“So powerful,” he remarks lowly, still big enough to intimidate me with his size but small enough that I can see that his body does not expanse this whole dimension. He looks down at me, clearly amused as he takes a seat on a small building lobby. Dormammu leans back, the skyscraper behind him aching sadly against his weight.

“So I’ve heard,” I finally utter, much to my relief. Unlike usual, I don’t have the same bite in my voice I use on people like Dormammu. It’s weak and small. A voice I had to memorize from a young age when addressing my father.

“I can only imagine the power you would’ve had by now,” he hisses, “if that sorry excuse for a sorcerer hadn’t taken you up as an apprentice.” I scowl now, insulted by his blatancy.

“You mean the sorcerer who trapped you in a time loop… in your own realm?” I wonder, gaining back a little sarcasm with each word. Suddenly, a rush of smoke blows right past my body. I flinch at the act, my arms going up to protect my face again. When I peek past my fingers I see the enlarged face of Dormammu glaring right into me, beating through every wall I have mercilessly until I feel like a crumpled heap on the bright steps.

“And where is your sorcerer now!” he shouts, anger and disbelief etched into every syllable. Once the smoke disappears from sight I step towards the ledge though, making sure my face in only a mere foot from his.

While the same question has crossed my mind a million times over these last five days I am sure of who my loyalty lies with. Besides, I know the answer. Strange trapped Dormammu in a time loop and made a bargain. The deal was that Dormammu leaves Earth and Strange leaves the Dark Dimension, taking time with him. The dark entity in front of me came back anyways though, and this time, with an intricate and unstoppable plan that has been in the works probably longer than I’ve been alive.

“Not only is Doctor Strange a better sorcerer and mentor,” I snap back, “but a better soul than you’ll ever be.” Much to my surprise satisfaction lights up Dormammu’s features and he shrinks downwards again, seeming smug like it was always his intention to make me argue with him. I wait patiently for him to speak, half expecting my demise or a severely long speech.

“Your father and I had a proposition,” he comments abruptly. “You, Y/N, are the only person who can fulfill it now.” I stare at him for a long minute, my mind pulsing from memory to memory, recalling all mentions of special deals. My mind comes to a few ancient conversations, murmurings of “having to keep my end”, but the most memorable is the most recent and disgusting.

“And there’s still a deal he must fulfill with me.”

“What did you do? What the hell kind of deal did you make?”

“The happy kind.”

“What,” I mumble, “is the deal?” Dormammu smiles and leans forward, his distorted arms resting on his knees.

“He asked that I give him his family for the rest of eternity. A good, safe, peaceful eternity,” he answers. The color drains from my face as I imagine an entire eternity living with that man with no hope of escape. I find myself needing to grab onto the metal railing so I don’t fall over. My vision has turned red from anger and the blurring smoke suddenly drifting from my hands.

“And his end of the bargain?” My end of the bargain.

“He will do my bidding until the time comes in which there is nothing more to ask,” he steps down from his seat which has been turned into a burning mound. With him rises a cloud of pitch black smoke that makes my stomach turn over. “As for you,” he continues, “you will hand over the time stone and your magic to me, so that I may put it to proper use.”

I finally understand why the time stone didn’t want to come here. It knew that Dormammu wanted it. Wanted my magic and I didn’t listen. I step backward, my hand following the railing so I don’t trip. My heart palpitates in my chest. My palms sweat. My magic clings to my soul in a desperate attempt to keep away from the demon in front of us.

“No,” I tell him. “I will never give it up. Not for him. Not for that monster.” While saying it I remember how I would've so willingly given up my magic for the man I used to call father six years ago. I remember how much I wanted to please him. To sense the same pride in his tone that I hear in Stephan’s. Now I’m confident, certain that I would let him die before giving up the most important part of me.

Dormammu tilts his head to the side. “Then for your mother?” he wonders. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him curiously. Every thought in my mind disagrees with Dormammu's statement, but I see the sincerity in his purple eyes and I can’t help but believe him.

But would I give everything up for a mother I never met? Could I ever be so selfish as to let everyone die and give up my one chance to save the Earth for a woman who died before we could even say hello? Before I could look into her eyes and see what good derived from there? Do I want that chance?

“My answer,” I say, certainty filling my voice as I dismount the final step, “is still no.” Dormammu’s grin still remains though.

“Then I will have to change that answer then,” I furrow my brows and frown, “won’t I?”

Although I already have an idea of what he is saying I still ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean.” The giant vortex of smoke swirls above me, sucking in stray ash and debris. All the sudden a bolt of lightning slams into the spot on the stairs where I was standing only minutes ago.

“I will be seeing you soon,” he tells me before evaporating into thin air.

“Wait!” I shout back. “What are going to do?” The question never reaches him though, and if it does it is forgotten as the cloud of black smoke drops on me.

I scream as it circles me. Little pieces of metal strike my skin. A piece of debri slams right into my collarbone, tearing a choked cry from my lips. Before I know tears are leaking from my ash filled eyes as I try my best to escape the tornado. The air is sucked up though and I fall to my knees weakly, already remembering the red mound that was in my hand earlier that predicted what was to come from this. I can imagine it. Ash, wood, and metal coating my throat as I try to claw it all out and breath before it's too late and all that will fill my throat is my own blood.

I gasp for something to calm my spasming lungs but all I come up with is more smoke. I cough and cry as unconsciousness sweeps me up and drops me hard on warm, wooden floors. Air finally enters my body. I heave on the ground, ignoring the sting in my shoulder as it presses into the firm, coaxing ground. My fingers curl into the thick strings sticking out of the carpet. From the little bits of images, I make out I can tell that I’m back in the sanctuary of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

I sigh, somewhat relieved, and stand up. As I’m walking towards the hallway where I was last with Strange I realize that I must not have been gone long if the majority of the lights are still off and no one is searching for me yet. I turn the corner and see my mentor still standing by the window. A glimmering red drifts across his face before fading into the darkness.

Stephen randomly turns towards me and I’m thankful for the lack of light above that keeps my wet cheeks from showing. His glare is harsh and from here I can tell that he is radiating far more annoyance than usual.

“Really, Y/N?” he lectures. “Doing a matter transfer during the middle of a conversation?” I say nothing. Strange rolls his eyes and begins stomping towards the end of the hall, not intending to stop and talk to me more. “What? You’re not gonna snap right back? You had plenty to say-” Once he is about a yard his sentence trails off. I can see his eyes tracing the tiny cuts and patches of ash and the tears on my cheeks that have mixed with both.

“I met him,” I announce in an unnaturally calm voice. “I met Dormammu.” Right away Stephen grabs my uninjured shoulder and pulls me into the light with him. He sits me on the sofa and looks over my cuts again, this time taking ten extra seconds for each little bloody mark.

“Is that why you-” I nod before he even finishes. Stephen shakes his head in dismay. “I should’ve realized. You would never leave without finishing an argument,” he remarks, intending for the last statement to exit a joke rather than judgment against himself. I shake my head, knowing full well that I should dispute it. That I should tell him that it’s not his fault. No one but Dormammu and my father is to blame for this. I’m just too tired to say it all. Instead, I try telling him by putting a hand on his scarred one. He looks up at me while I shake my head.

“I know what he wants,” I mumble sleepily. Stephen listens to me attentively, preparing himself for anything right now. “Why he created me.” Down the hall I can hear the floorboards creak under what must be Peter’s weight.

“What is it Y/N?” Stephen draws his attention back to him. My eyes remain on the hallway entrance for a second more and then I look at Strange, looking far more broken down than I would hope.

“Me, my magic, the stone. He wants to take everything.” I answer. A shadow crosses Stephen’s face. “Dormammu sowed the seed and now,” I take a pause, knowing that has just entered the sitting room, “he’s finally ready to reap the harvest.”

____________

A/N: Oof. Sorry this took so long.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Comment below or send me an ask if you would like to be tagged.🖤🖤🖤

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shiranai-atsune · 6 years ago

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VLD gKND (cuz’ I couldn’t think of an actual title)

I just had a burst of inspiration and it actually got me to write again after such a long time! I wrote this little piece of fanfiction based on another fandom and a bunch of other ideas I had in my storage. I hope you give it a chance to read it. Tell me how it is, be honest but go easy on me.

Write a scene based on the gKND trailer. Lance is Nigel while Lotor is Chad.

Set Post Season 7. Season 8 is disregarded.

Lance is part of the Alliance, one of the members of the Great Diamond Authority. Her outfit is a combination of armor and a dress, like Arturia Pendragon, but there is a cut on the chest revealing her Blue Diamond gemstone.

Red had agreed with Lana’s desire to retrieve Lotor She was glad he understood, they had actually begun to become quite close. Although she missed Blue, she and Red had something greater of a bond entirely, seeing as their time together excessed her time with Blue.

Lance took Red and teamed up with Honerva to gain access to the Quintessence field and retrieve Lotor. There, she double-crossed Honerva (guess she’s teaming up with the Paladins to stop Lance and the Alliance?), took the Altean colonials to Pink Diamond’s Human (now also Lance’s Altean) zoo, and turned Lotor into C.C. (putting him in that weird prison suit outfit and putting him inside a capsule dome which is thought to hold poison gas)

In a big but dark room, Lana stands, her finger hovering over a large red diamond-shaped button. It was the button that would activate the Alliance’s Diamond Starkiller base.

A bead of sweat rolls down her cheek as Lana takes a deep breath. She is nervous, pressured by her higher ups to make this decision. She is aware that after making this choice, there is no going back. She knew that she has to make sacrifices in order to reach her goal, even if that sacrifice involved the genocide of billions of lives.

She slowly lowered her finger, trying to stop herself trembling, and inwardly hoping that her observers are far away enough to not notice her nervousness, when she heard an all too familiar voice.

“NO! There are innocent people there! Your people! Your family! Your friends!”

It was Prince Lotor. After double crossing Haggar and shooting her off into space and to who knows where, she knocked him unconscious so he would not cause a disturbance during her trip back to one of the Alliance’s main base, the Kingdom of Lucis, where she and the rest of the Valvraves resided. She forgot to check the dose of sedate in the tranquilizer gun before shooting him. He surprised her, she panicked and in the heat of the moment, just picked it up and shot him.

He was once a prince. Great, powerful, and had plans to change the entire universe. She slightly turned her head to look at him, with his disheveled appearance; his beautiful long silky silvery white hair was now a tangled mess, his armor gone and now wears the orange jumpsuit for a regular prisoner. He is kneeled down to the grown, pulling back those plasma-charged chains linked to the floor and his handcuffs, restraining him from running towards her or to his escape.

“It’s riddled with the disease. Infested. Too far gone.” Lana coldly replied. Deep down inside of her, there was a part that was fighting, resisting, telling her not to go through with this.

“What about Team Voltron?” Lotor cried. “Coran, Allura, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Keith!”

Of course, she never forgot about them. They were all-too familiar names she recited every night before going to bed. Hearing them out loud from another’s voice felt so foreign to her. Even though she never forgot about them and no matter how much time has passed, the last name had shot a pang through her heart and left her wondering about his, as well as the others’ well-beings.

“Keith would never let you do this…” He said in a condescending tone. She could tell her was pointing his finger at her and she doesn’t know why, exactly.

Lana had wanted to snap back, “How do you know that?! You don’t even know him!”. Lotor only knew Keith as an enemy from whatever intel he received from his spies. But even so, he was right and she knew it. That made her draw her finger back, her face twisting to one of conflict.

“There. Do we need more proof on where this one’s allegiance lies?” A screen showing the sigil of the Black Knights of Britannia.

Although the voice is distorted and disguised, she can tell whose voice that belongs to. Judging by the tone and accent, it’s safe to assume that it belonged to one of her (former?) comrades, now reduced to colleagues, and currently her greatest and most outspoken critic, Lelouch vi Britannia. He had never trusted her, and became even more suspicious of her once finding out that she worked with the enemy.

“Species… indicative.” Only two words were spoken but she can tell that belonged to either L-elf or A-Drei Karlstein of Dorssia. They may not have interacted much, but Lana can guess that he’s in neutral standing to her.

“This human not a Galactic Level operative, no?” That one, she could not tell, but he did not seem to be a high ranking observer as the screen only showed the symbol of the Alliance. She wondered who brought him, or her, here?

“There are no human Galactic Level operatives.” Again, an unfamiliar voice.

Another screen pops out showing older sister Veronica. Which made Lana wince as she could see her perfectly and clearly in all her royal Magius glory. “Ah actually that’s not true. There was- wait.” It was only then she had noticed that she was the only one being fully broadcasted with no filter.

“Oh I could never figure out these privacy features on these planetary conference calls.” Lana bit her lower lip to hold back her laughter. Her powerful older sister, a member of the one of the greatest beings in the universe, especially the royal family, royally screwing up and making herself looking like a goofball. Just like her.

“Gah! And now my video call filter isn’t working!” Veronica exclaimed. “Who was running the tech department while I was on Earth? Agent Moron?!” She threw her hands up in the air for extra dramatic effect.

“Who you calling moron?! You’ve been on Earth for so long you reek of the infection!” Ah, so it was Lelouch who was in charge while me and Veronica were… doing other things. Lana thought as Veronica just crossed her arms and glared at him all the while Lelouch yelled at her. Then he added, “Just like that one.” Lana knew that while she couldn’t see him, he was pointing at her accusingly, his face twisted to a scowl.

It was partially true. Lana and Veronica, who got into this whole Alliance business not more than 5 years (actually 2 for Lana since 3 years passed during the time she was in the Quintessence field in Season 6 Episode 6) ago after discovering their true heritage as members of the Royal Family of the Magius. But they were only two among the thousands of children their father, the king of the Magius, have.

It was then that the entire room was suddenly lighted up with multiple screens from multiple of the Alliance’s divisions and members and even more randomly lower ranked members. So many voices talking all at once, chattering on about gibberish nonsense that Lana could not catch on.

But they all fell silent once they heard that one voice… the distorted, but very much obviously White Diamond’s, authorative, and loud voice that made her sound so powerful, almighty… and big. All three of which she was.

“Please members of the Alliance…” she spoke in a soft tone. No visual screen, her voice boomed throughout the entire room, “The decision does not come lightly… the decision is…” she trailed off.

That last line sounded so… off to Lana. It was like White Diamond had snoozed off. She sounded so… like in a tone that made her seem far away.

She always struck Lana as somewhat of an anomaly. Odd, strange, Lana has no definite read on White. She was calm, soft-spoken, warm, and she almost seemed kind and motherly, but her mother Blue said she had quite a temper. Her Pearl reflected on what kind of “owner” White can be. Lana was glad she was not on White’s bad side. …yet?

“Don’t do it Lana! None of them deserve this! This isn’t what Voltron stood for!” Lana had almost forgotten about Lotor. He had been so quiet when Lelouch first came to interrupt them. She imagined he just sat there, in obedient silence as the Alliance just said what they said.

Voltron… it was where Lana had allied herself before siding herself to the Alliance, and by extension, to the Valvraves. Her thoughts drifted to her fellow Valvrave pilots and teammates, Ignis, Gladio, Prompto… Noctis… all the good times they shared… she had just like she had with Voltron… before White’s loud booming distorted voice interrupted her reminiscing.

“The decision… is Lana McClain’s…” White Diamond has slowly said. Her tone changed into one of warning. Mother Blue had told her that this means that White is slowly about to be set off. White was getting impatient. Lana knew she had to make a choice right now, and she had to pick the choice that would definitely please White.

A tear rolls down Lana’s cheek as she makes a determined stance, her decision now made and she now fully stands by it. There’s no going back… But Lana never planned on going back.

“For the Alliance!” she almost choked at her words, “Blitzendegen!”

With no further hesitation, she presses her finger down to the button.

As the screens around her shut off, and the large room is now suddenly dark again, Lana can only imagine hearing her beloved Keith’s voice…

“Lana McClain… what have you done?”

Haha! I somehow ended up imagining my own little Kingdom Hearts/Marvel Cinematic Universe crossover universe.

Another intro of the beginning, made by the talented lunadiane: http://shiranai-atsune.tumblr.com/post/179161320757/this-is-universekiddies-lunadiane-is-my-main

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underachievers-please-try-harder · 5 years ago

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Interview // Sassy 009

Appeared in Issue 138 of Loud and Quiet. Read online.

Despite describing herself as “super curious”, Sunniva Lindgaard has always hung back in social situations. “As a child, I could stare at other kids playing in my street for hours without going over to them and saying hello,” she explains over the phone from her Oslo apartment, laughing as she recalls eventually breaking the deadlock “after way too long staring”.

Of course, there’s a lot to be said for being reserved, and for embracing self-imposed solitude, which society tends to confuse for loneliness. Certainly, Sunni seems upbeat today discussing the decision to revert Sassy 009 to a solo project, following the departures of bandmates Teodora Georgijevic and Johanna Scheie Orellana at the start of the year. As she tells it, the whole process was “very natural, really”, though she’s polite yet firm in her refusal to reveal whether the split was amicable.

“I’m used to working alone with music,” she insists, silencing my digging. “[When Sassy 009 was a three-piece] I made the music first on my own, and then we finished the tracks together. So the process now is just taking away the part of presenting my ideas to someone else who has their opinions and their input. And now it’s about the friction inside myself instead of friction with other people.”

Sunni has always been an independent spirit. Born to classically-trained musicians, she spent her early years immersed in music, first in Stockholm – where she was born – and then in Oslo, where she moved with her mother at the age of six, following her parents’ separation. Concerts and recitals were a regular fixture of her childhood, as were music lessons, with Sunni picking up and subsequently quitting violin, cello, flute, piano and double bass. “I think I just had teachers that didn’t really understand that I just wanted to play,” she reflects. “And I was so caught up in playing beautifully, instead of practising techniques and methods… So I guess classical music has been a big part of my life, but I’ve also always been kind-of rejecting it.”

Her epiphany came in eighth grade, when she signed up to her high school’s music course. “I picked the course quite randomly, thinking we [would be] playing in a band or whatever. But we were given these different tasks on the computer, making covers of a song, like, actually producing music. So that was my strange route into understanding that [music] is something that I really, really love to do.”

Inspired by watching female producers like Grimes thriving, Sunni started uploading her productions to SoundCloud, with her page’s throwaway handle ‘Sassy 009’ adopted as a placeholder name for the project, which subsequently stuck. However, it was some time later, while attending folk school, that she invited childhood friends Teodora and Johanna to collaborate on the project. As Sunni recalls, from that point onwards things accelerated rapidly.

“I had never played in a band myself, so this was just a thing we threw out there. Everything just went so fast: it took half a year or something from when we became a band to when we met [producer] Andrew [Murray, AKA Baya] and things started going quite well.”

Quite well counts as an understatement: their single ‘Pretty Baby’ received glowing praise from press in both the US and UK – who adored its techno-rooted take on electro-pop – and soon the trio were touring internationally, including performing before Norwegian royalty at SXSW. Their debut EP, Do You Mind, arrived in November of 2017. They didn’t know it at the time, but it was to be their last release as a three-piece.

Now back after a break, Sunni is reclaiming Sassy 009 as a one-woman project with eight-song collection Kill Sassy 009, due at the end of November. Recorded in Baya’s studios at Luft Recordings, just outside of Oslo, the EP pools Sunni’s most experimental work yet. On lead single ‘Thrasher’, dreamy harmonies collide with distorted synth effects, like some fucked up cross-hybrid of Smerz and Crystal Castles. An ethereal yet abrasive mix of eerie vocals and skittering beats, ‘Maybe In Summer’ evokes Halfaxa-era Grimes, while ‘Are You Still A Lover’ channels Sunni’s lifelong love of Joy Division, adding reverb-laden post-punk guitars and a Peter Hook-style bassline to the haunting soundscape.

As she explains – in terms that are deliberately vague – the EP was born out of a period of intense turbulence, and it captures the ensuing disorientation. “I realised that the songs that I picked for this record came together as a result of the emotions I’d been going through this last year,” she says. “You know, just things that happen in your life and to people you love that you can’t really choose. The songs were recorded at quite different times, so it was more picking about what felt true to me now. And it feels good to hear those songs put together.

“I had a really hard time picking a title for this record,” she continues, warming to the topic. “Then I just thought, ‘What’s the strongest word that we have in our language?’ And, in my opinion, ‘kill’ is. It’s so dark and intense and strict. For a long time I’d been picking the songs for the record without having a title, and without knowing what the real thread was. The title came to me after I put these songs together, because I realised that Sassy 009 was so close to disappearing for me as well. I was so close to giving it up and doing something completely different, and I realised that this trial was the thing I had to go through to make a record. It’s a very strong title. I love it.”

In terms of the creative process, very little has altered from her earliest musical experiments, with Sunni still doing the lion’s share of her composition using software synths in Logic, though her recent acquisition of a hardware synth suggests those methods are likely to change in the future. And without Teodora’s and Johanna’s input Baya proved an indispensable sounding board for ideas, as well as acting as co-producer. Though, as Sunni explains, she isn’t entirely comfortable embracing with the tag of producer.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this to be honest. I’ve been seeing myself as a producer for all these years – making songs and posting them on SoundCloud – but in the last couple of months I’ve realised that producing is a term I’m quite afraid of putting on myself, because it means so much. I think people are a little bit confused about what it means, because nowadays everyone can produce music with programmes and stuff. I’ve come to a point where I see myself more as a songwriter and composer than a producer.”

And yet both terms feel like a major underestimation of Sunni’s talents, and of her complex productions, which are a world away from straightforward singer-songwriter fare. She almost acknowledges as much in her description of EP-opener ‘Okay’ as a “very deconstructed song that somehow still feels constructed”, and again later when discussing the genesis of ‘Thrasher’.

“I was very inspired by the energy M.I.A. has in her music,” she says, “and how [songs] can be strict and beautiful at the same time. So [‘Thrasher’] is a track of extremities put together: sharp, intense beats and beautiful melodies, screaming and calming synths and harmonies. It was me trying to wrap a feeling into a track for a few minutes. When I made the track I was in a very dark place in my life, so I was letting myself know it’s ok to feel these things. Because in that moment in my life I didn’t really feel like things were going to be ok.”

Thankfully, this period cuts a stark contrast with her life now, where there is much to look forward to. As well as the release of Kill Sassy 009, Sunni hopes to finally share the collaborative track she wrote with Clairo last November (tentatively entitled ‘Lara’, after the Tomb Raider protagonist). And then there’s studio time booked in with Baya for December to work on new material. “I’ve been watching Stranger Things and I’m super inspired by it,” she gushes.

For now, however, Sunni is simply excited for people to hear the new EP. “I feel like it’s good music for when you’re wanting to dig into something within yourself, perhaps while you’re walking through the night.” There’s a pause, before she instructs with a smile, “Listen alone.”

#sassy 009 #loud and quiet #tearsheet #tearsheets #interview #interviews #Sunniva Lindgaard

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everythingsallwrite · 7 years ago

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prompts xx

{ATTRIBUTED TO BERNADETTE MAYER}

Bernadette Mayer's List of Journal Ideas:

Journals of: * dreams * food * finances * writing ideas * love * ideas for architects * city design ideas * beautiful and/or ugly sights * a history of one's own writing life, written daily * reading/music/art, etc. encountered each day * rooms * elaborations on weather * people one sees-description * subway, bus, car or other trips (e.g., the same bus trip written about every day) * pleasures and/or pain * life's everyday machinery: phones, stoves, computers, etc. * answering machine messages * round or rectangular things, other shapes * color * light * daily changes, e.g., a journal of one's desk, table, etc. * the body and its parts * clocks/time-keeping * tenant-landlord situations * telephone calls (taped?) * skies * dangers * mail * sounds * coincidences & connections * times of solitude

Other journal ideas: * Write once a day in minute detail about one thing * Write every day at the same time, e.g. lunch poems, waking ideas, etc. * Write minimally: one line or sentence per day * Create a collaborative journal: musical notation and poetry; two writers alternating days; two writing about the same subject each day, etc. * Instead of using a book, write on paper and put it up on the wall (public journal). * and so on ...

Bernadette Mayer's Writing Experiments * Pick a word or phrase at random, let mind play freely around it until a few ideas have come up, then seize on one and begin to write. Try this with a non- connotative word, like "so" etc. * Systematically eliminate the use of certain kinds of words or phrases from a piece of writing: eliminate all adjectives from a poem of your own, or take out all words beginning with 's' in Shakespeare's sonnets. * Rewrite someone else's writing. Experiment with theft and plagiarism. * Systematically derange the language: write a work consisting only of prepositional phrases, or, add a gerund to every line of an already existing work. * Get a group of words, either randomly selected or thought up, then form these words (only) into a piece of writing-whatever the words allow. Let them demand their own form, or, use some words in a predetermined way. Design words. * Eliminate material systematically from a piece of your own writing until it is "ultimately" reduced, or, read or write it backwards, line by line or word by word. Read a novel backwards. * Using phrases relating to one subject or idea, write about another, pushing metaphor and simile as far as you can. For example, use science terms to write about childhood or philosophic language to describe a shirt. * Take an idea, anything that interests you, or an object, then spend a few days looking and noticing, perhaps making notes on what comes up about that idea, or, try to create a situation or surrounding where everything that happens is in relation. * Construct a poem as if the words were three-dimensional objects to be handled in space. Print them on large cards or bricks if necessary. * Write as you think, as close as you can come to this, that is, put pen to paper and don't stop. Experiment writing fast and writing slow. * Attempt tape recorder work, that is, recording without a text, perhaps at specific times. * Make notes on what happens or occurs to you for a limited amount of time, then make something of it in writing. * Get someone to write for you, pretending they are you. * Write in a strict form, or, transform prose into a poetic form. * Write a poem that reflects another poem, as in a mirror. * Read or write a story or myth, then put it aside and, trying to remember it, write it five or ten times at intervals from memory. Or, make a work out of continuously saying, in a column or list, one sentence or line, over and over in different ways, until you get it "right." * Make a pattern of repetitions. * Take an already written work of your own and insert, at random or by choice, a paragraph or section from, for example, a psychology book or a seed catalogue. Then study the possibilities of rearranging this work or rewriting the "source." * Experiment with writing in every person and tense every day. * Explore the possibilities of lists, puzzles, riddles, dictionaries, almanacs, etc. Consult the thesaurus where categories for the word "word" include: word as news, word as message, word as information, word as story, word as order or command, word as vocable, word as instruction, promise, vow, contract. * Write what cannot be written; for example, compose an index. * The possibilities of synesthesia in relation to language and words: the word and the letter as sensations, colors evoked by letters, sensations caused by the sound of a word as apart from its meaning, etc. And the effect of this phenomenon on you; for example, write in the water, on a moving vehicle. * Attempt writing in a state of mind that seems least congenial. * Consider word and letter as forms-the concretistic distortion of a text, a mutiplicity of o's or ea's, or a pleasing visual arrangement: "the mill pond of chill doubt." * Do experiments with sensory memory: record all sense images that remain from breakfast, study which senses engage you, escape you. * Write, taking off from visual projections, whether mental or mechanical, without thought to the word in the ordinary sense, no craft. * Make writing experiments over a long period of time. For example, plan how much you will write for a particular work each day, perhaps one word or one page. * Write on a piece of paper where something is already printed or written. * Attempt to eliminate all connotation from a piece of writing and vice versa. * Experiment with writing in a group, collaborative work: a group writing individually off of each other's work over a long period of time in the same room; a group contributing to the same work, sentence by sentence or line by line; one writer being fed information and ideas while the other writes; writing, leaving instructions for another writer to fill in what you can't describe; compiling a book or work structured by your own language around the writings of others; or a group working and writing off of each other's dream writing. * Dream work: record dreams daily, experiment with translation or transcription of dream thought, attempt to approach the tense and incongruity appropriate to the dream, work with the dream until a poem or song emerges from it, use the dream as an alert form of the mind's activity or consciousness, consider the dream a problem-solving device, change dream characters into fictional characters, accept dream's language as a gift. * Structure a poem or prose writing according to city streets, miles, walks, drives. For example: Take a fourteen-block walk, writing one line per block to create a sonnet; choose a city street familiar to you, walk it, make notes and use them to create a work; take a long walk with a group of writers, observe, make notes and create works, then compare them; take a long walk or drive-write one line or sentence per mile. Variations on this. * The uses of journals. Keep a journal that is restricted to one set of ideas, for instance, a food or dream journal, a journal that is only written in when it is raining, a journal of ideas about writing, a weather journal. Remember that journals do not have to involve "good" writing-they are to be made use of. Simple one-line entries like "No snow today" can be inspiring later. Have 3 or 4 journals going at once, each with a different purpose. Create a journal that is meant to be shared and commented on by another writer--leave half of each page blank for the comments of the other. * Type out a Shakespeare sonnet or other poem you would like to learn about/imitate double-spaced on a page. Rewrite it in between the lines. * Find the poems you think are the worst poems ever written, either by your own self or other poets. Study them, then write a bad poem. * Choose a subject you would like to write "about." Then attempt to write a piece that absolutely avoids any relationship to that subject. Get someone to grade you. * Write a series of titles for as yet unwritten poems or proses. * Work with a number of objects, moving them around on a field or surface-describe their shifting relationships, resonances, associations. Or, write a series of poems that have only to do with what you see in the place where you most often write. Or, write a poem in each room of your house or apartment. Experiment with doing this in the home you grew up in, if possible. * Write a bestiary (a poem about real and mythical animals). * Write five short expressions of the most adamant anger; make a work out of them. * Write a work gazing into a mirror without using the pronoun I. * A shocking experiment: Rip pages out of books at random (I guess you could xerox them) and study them as if they were a collection of poetic/literary material. Use this method on your old high school or college notebooks, if possible, then create an epistemological work based on the randomly chosen notebook pages. * Meditate on a word, sound or list of ideas before beginning to write. * Take a book of poetry you love and make a list, going through it poem by poem, of the experiments, innovations, methods, intentions, etc. involved in the creation of the works in the book. * Write what is secret. Then write what is shared. Experiment with writing each in two different ways: veiled language, direct language. * Write a soothing novel in twelve short paragraphs. * Write a work that attempts to include the names of all the physical contents of the terrestrial world that you know. * Take a piece of prose writing and turn it into poetic lines. Then, without remembering that you were planning to do this, make a poem of the first and last words of each line to see what happens. For instance, the lines (from Einstein) * When at the reception * Of sense-impressions, memory pictures * Emerge this is not yet thinking * And when. . . * Would become: * When reception * Of pictures * Emerge thinking * And when * And so on. Form the original prose, poetic lines, and first-and-last word poem into three columns on a page. Study their relationships. * If you have an answering machine, record all messages received for one month, then turn them into a best-selling novella. * Write a macaronic poem (making use of as many languages as you are conversant with). * Attempt to speak for a day only in questions; write only in questions. * Attempt to become in a state where the mind is flooded with ideas; attempt to keep as many thoughts in mind simultaneously as possible. Then write without looking at the page, typescript or computer screen (This is "called" invisible writing). * Choose a period of time, perhaps five or nine months. Every day, write a letter that will never be sent to a person who does or does not exist, or to a number of people who do or do not exist. Create a title for each letter and don't send them. Pile them up as a book. * Etymological work. Experiment with investigating the etymologies of all words that interest you, including your own name(s). Approaches to etymologies: Take a work you've already written, preferably something short, look up the etymological meanings of every word in that work including words like "the" and "a". Study the histories of the words used, then rewrite the work on the basis of the etymological information found out. Another approach: Build poems and writings form the etymological families based on the Indo-European language constructs, for instance, the BHEL family: bulge, bowl, belly, boulder, billow, ball, balloon; or the OINO family: one, alone, lonely, unique, unite, unison, union; not to speak of one of the GEN families: kin, king, kindergarten, genteel, gender, generous, genius, genital, gingerly, pregnant, cognate, renaissance, and innate! * Write a brief bibliography of the science and philosophy texts that interest you. Create a file of newspaper articles that seem to relate to the chances of writing poetry. * Write the poem: Ways of Making Love. List them. * Diagram a sentence in the old-fashioned way. If you don't know how, I'll be happy to show you; if you do know how, try a really long sentence, for instance from Melville. * Turn a list of the objects that have something to do with a person who has died into a poem or poem form, in homage to that person. * Write the same poem over and over again, in different forms, until you are weary. Another experiment: Set yourself the task of writing for four hours at a time, perhaps once, twice or seven times a week. Don't stop until hunger and/or fatigue take over. At the very least, always set aside a four-hour period once a month in which to write. This is always possible and will result in one book of poems or prose writing for each year. Then we begin to know something. * Attempt as a writer to win the Nobel Prize in Science by finding out how thought becomes language, or does not. * Take a traditional text like the pledge of allegiance to the flag. For every noun, replace it with one that is seventh or ninth down from the original one in the dictionary. For instance, the word "honesty" would be replaced by "honey dew melon." Investigate what happens; different dictionaries will produce different results. * Attempt to write a poem or series of poems that will change the world. Does everything written or dreamed of do this? * Write occasional poems for weddings, for rivers, for birthdays, for other poets' beauty, for movie stars maybe, for the anniversaries of all kinds of loving meetings, for births, for moments of knowledge, for deaths. Writing for the "occasion" is part of our purpose as poets in being-this is our work in the community wherein we belong and work as speakers for others. * Experiment with every traditional form, so as to know it. * Write poems and proses in which you set yourself the task of using particular words, chosen at random like the spelling exercises of children: intelligence, amazing, weigh, weight, camel, camel's, foresight, through, threw, never, now, snow, rein, rain. Make a story of that! * Plan, structure, and write a long work. Consider what is the work now needed by the culture to cure and exact even if by accident the great exorcism of its 1998 sort-of- seeming-not-being. What do we need? What is the poem of the future? * What is communicable now? What more is communicable? * Compose a list of familiar phrases, or phrases that have stayed in your mind for a long time--from songs, from poems, from conversation: * What's in a name? That which we call a rose * By any other name would smell as sweet * (Romeo and Juliet) * A rose is a rose is a rose * (Gertrude Stein) * A raisin in the sun * (Langston Hughes) * The king was in the counting house * Counting out his money. . . * (Nursery rhyme) * I sing the body electric. . . * These United States. . . * (Walt Whitman) * A thing of beauty is a joy forever * (Keats) * (I summon up) remembrance of things past * (WS) * Ask not for whom the bell tolls * It tolls for thee * (Donne) * Look homeward, Angel * (Milton) * For fools rush in where angels fear to tread * (Pope) * All's well that ends well * (WS) * I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness * (Allen Ginsberg) * I think therefore I am * (Descartes) * It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,. . . * (Dickens) * brave new world has such people in it * (Shakespeare, The Tempest, later Huxley) * Odi et amo (I hate and I love) * (Catullus) * Water water everywhere * Nor any drop to drink * (Coleridge) * Curiouser and curiouser * (Alice in Wonderland) * Don't worry be happy. Here's a little song I wrote. . . * Write the longest most beautiful sentence you can imagine-make it be a whole page. * Set yourself the task of writing in a way you've never written before, no matter who you are. * What is the value of autobiography? * Attempt to write in a way that's never been written before. * Invent a new form. * Write a perfect poem. * Write a work that intersperses love with landlords. * In a poem, list what you know. * Address the poem to the reader. * Write household poems-about cooking, shopping, eating and sleeping. * Write dream collaborations in the lune form. * Write poems that only make use of the words included in Basic English. * Attempt to write about jobs and how they affect the writing of poetry. * Write while being read to from science texts, or, write while being read to by one's lover from any text. * Trade poems with others and do not consider them your own. * Exercises in style: Write twenty-five or more different versions of one event. * Review the statement: "What is happening to me, allowing for lies and exaggerations which I try to avoid, goes into my poems."

SOURCE: www.writing.upenn.edu/library/Mayer-Bernadette_Experiments.html/

#prompts #writers #writer #writing #write #journal prompts #diary prompts #prompt #journal #journaling #writers block

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yorkshireword · 3 years ago

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Bernadette Mayer’s Writing Experiments (selected)

Bernadette Mayer's Writing Experiments (selected)

* Pick a word or phrase at random, let mind play freely around it until a few ideas have come up, then seize on one and begin to write. Try this with a non- connotative word, like "so" etc.

* Systematically eliminate the use of certain kinds of words or phrases from a piece of writing: eliminate all adjectives from a poem of your own, or take out all words beginning with 's' in Shakespeare's sonnets.

* Rewrite someone else's writing. Experiment with theft and plagiarism.

* Systematically derange the language: write a work consisting only of prepositional phrases, or, add a gerund to every line of an already existing work.

* Get a group of words, either randomly selected or thought up, then form these words (only) into a piece of writing-whatever the words allow. Let them demand their own form, or, use some words in a predetermined way. Design words.

* Eliminate material systematically from a piece of your own writing until it is "ultimately" reduced, or, read or write it backwards, line by line or word by word. Read a novel backwards.

* Using phrases relating to one subject or idea, write about another, pushing metaphor and simile as far as you can. For example, use science terms to write about childhood or philosophic language to describe a shirt.

* Take an idea, anything that interests you, or an object, then spend a few days looking and noticing, perhaps making notes on what comes up about that idea, or, try to create a situation or surrounding where everything that happens is in relation.

* Construct a poem as if the words were three-dimensional objects to be handled in space. Print them on large cards or bricks if necessary.

* Write as you think, as close as you can come to this, that is, put pen to paper and don't stop. Experiment writing fast and writing slow.

* Attempt tape recorder work, that is, recording without a text, perhaps at specific times.

* Make notes on what happens or occurs to you for a limited amount of time, then make something of it in writing.

* Get someone to write for you, pretending they are you.

* Write in a strict form, or, transform prose into a poetic form.

* Write a poem that reflects another poem, as in a mirror.

* Read or write a story or myth, then put it aside and, trying to remember it, write it five or ten times at intervals from memory. Or, make a work out of continuously saying, in a column or list, one sentence or line, over and over in different ways, until you get it "right."

* Make a pattern of repetitions.

* Take an already written work of your own and insert, at random or by choice, a paragraph or section from, for example, a psychology book or a seed catalogue. Then study the possibilities of rearranging this work or rewriting the "source."

* Experiment with writing in every person and tense every day.

* Explore the possibilities of lists, puzzles, riddles, dictionaries, almanacs, etc. Consult the thesaurus where categories for the word "word" include: word as news, word as message, word as information, word as story, word as order or command, word as vocable, word as instruction, promise, vow, contract.

* Write what cannot be written; for example, compose an index.

* The possibilities of synesthesia in relation to language and words: the word and the letter as sensations, colors evoked by letters, sensations caused by the sound of a word as apart from its meaning, etc. And the effect of this phenomenon on you; for example, write in the water, on a moving vehicle.

* Attempt writing in a state of mind that seems least congenial.

* Consider word and letter as forms-the concretistic distortion of a text, a mutiplicity of o's or ea's, or a pleasing visual arrangement: "the mill pond of chill doubt."

* Do experiments with sensory memory: record all sense images that remain from breakfast, study which senses engage you, escape you.

* Write, taking off from visual projections, whether mental or mechanical, without thought to the word in the ordinary sense, no craft.

* Make writing experiments over a long period of time. For example, plan how much you will write for a particular work each day, perhaps one word or one page.

* Write on a piece of paper where something is already printed or written.

* Attempt to eliminate all connotation from a piece of writing and vice versa.

* Experiment with writing in a group, collaborative work: a group writing individually off of each other's work over a long period of time in the same room; a group contributing to the same work, sentence by sentence or line by line; one writer being fed information and ideas while the other writes; writing, leaving instructions for another writer to fill in what you can't describe; compiling a book or work structured by your own language around the writings of others; or a group working and writing off of each other's dream writing.

* Dream work: record dreams daily, experiment with translation or transcription of dream thought, attempt to approach the tense and incongruity appropriate to the dream, work with the dream until a poem or song emerges from it, use the dream as an alert form of the mind's activity or consciousness, consider the dream a problem-solving device, change dream characters into fictional characters, accept dream's language as a gift.

* Structure a poem or prose writing according to city streets, miles, walks, drives. For example: Take a fourteen-block walk, writing one line per block to create a sonnet; choose a city street familiar to you, walk it, make notes and use them to create a work; take a long walk with a group of writers, observe, make notes and create works, then compare them; take a long walk or drive-write one line or sentence per mile. Variations on this.

* The uses of journals. Keep a journal that is restricted to one set of ideas, for instance, a food or dream journal, a journal that is only written in when it is raining, a journal of ideas about writing, a weather journal. Remember that journals do not have to involve "good" writing-they are to be made use of. Simple one-line entries like "No snow today" can be inspiring later. Have 3 or 4 journals going at once, each with a different purpose. Create a journal that is meant to be shared and commented on by another writer--leave half of each page blank for the comments of the other.

* Type out a Shakespeare sonnet or other poem you would like to learn about/imitate double-spaced on a page. Rewrite it in between the lines. * Find the poems you think are the worst poems ever written, either by your own self or other poets. Study them, then write a bad poem.

* Choose a subject you would like to write "about." Then attempt to write a piece that absolutely avoids any relationship to that subject. Get someone to grade you.

* Write a series of titles for as yet unwritten poems or proses.

* Work with a number of objects, moving them around on a field or surface-describe their shifting relationships, resonances, associations. Or, write a series of poems that have only to do with what you see in the place where you most often write. Or, write a poem in each room of your house or apartment. Experiment with doing this in the home you grew up in, if possible.

* Write a bestiary (a poem about real and mythical animals).

* Write five short expressions of the most adamant anger; make a work out of them.

* Write a work gazing into a mirror without using the pronoun I.

* A shocking experiment: Rip pages out of books at random (I guess you could xerox them) and study them as if they were a collection of poetic/literary material. Use this method on your old high school or college notebooks, if possible, then create an epistemological work based on the randomly chosen notebook pages.

* Meditate on a word, sound or list of ideas before beginning to write.

* Take a book of poetry you love and make a list, going through it poem by poem, of the experiments, innovations, methods, intentions, etc. involved in the creation of the works in the book.

* Write what is secret. Then write what is shared. Experiment with writing each in two different ways: veiled language, direct language.

* Write a soothing novel in twelve short paragraphs.

* Write a work that attempts to include the names of all the physical contents of the terrestrial world that you know.

* Take a piece of prose writing and turn it into poetic lines. Then, without remembering that you were planning to do this, make a poem of the first and last words of each line to see what happens.

* If you have an answering machine, record all messages received for one month, then turn them into a best-selling novella.

* Write a macaronic poem (making use of as many languages as you are conversant with).

* Attempt to speak for a day only in questions; write only in questions.

* Attempt to become in a state where the mind is flooded with ideas; attempt to keep as many thoughts in mind simultaneously as possible. Then write without looking at the page, typescript or computer screen (This is "called" invisible writing).

* Choose a period of time, perhaps five or nine months. Every day, write a letter that will never be sent to a person who does or does not exist, or to a number of people who do or do not exist. Create a title for each letter and don't send them. Pile them up as a book.

* Etymological work. Experiment with investigating the etymologies of all words that interest you, including your own name(s). Approaches to etymologies: Take a work you've already written, preferably something short, look up the etymological meanings of every word in that work including words like "the" and "a". Study the histories of the words used, then rewrite the work on the basis of the etymological information found out. Another approach: Build poems and writings form the etymological families based on the Indo-European language constructs, for instance, the BHEL family: bulge, bowl, belly, boulder, billow, ball, balloon; or the OINO family: one, alone, lonely, unique, unite, unison, union; not to speak of one of the GEN families: kin, king, kindergarten, genteel, gender, generous, genius, genital, gingerly, pregnant, cognate, renaissance, and innate!

* Write a brief bibliography of the science and philosophy texts that interest you. Create a file of newspaper articles that seem to relate to the chances of writing poetry.

* Turn a list of the objects that have something to do with a person who has died into a poem or poem form, in homage to that person.

* Write the same poem over and over again, in different forms, until you are weary. Another experiment: Set yourself the task of writing for four hours at a time, perhaps once, twice or seven times a week. Don't stop until hunger and/or fatigue take over. At the very least, always set aside a four-hour period once a month in which to write. This is always possible and will result in one book of poems or prose writing for each year. Then we begin to know something.

* Take a traditional text like the pledge of allegiance to the flag. For every noun, replace it with one that is seventh or ninth down from the original one in the dictionary. For instance, the word "honesty" would be replaced by "honey dew melon." Investigate what happens; different dictionaries will produce different results.

* Attempt to write a poem or series of poems that will change the world. Does everything written or dreamed of do this?

* Write occasional poems for weddings, for rivers, for birthdays, for other poets' beauty, for movie stars maybe, for the anniversaries of all kinds of loving meetings, for births, for moments of knowledge, for deaths. Writing for the "occasion" is part of our purpose as poets in being-this is our work in the community wherein we belong and work as speakers for others.

* Write poems and proses in which you set yourself the task of using particular words, chosen at random like the spelling exercises of children: intelligence, amazing, weigh, weight, camel, camel's, foresight, through, threw, never, now, snow, rein, rain. Make a story of that!

* Plan, structure, and write a long work. Consider what is the work now needed by the culture to cure and exact even if by accident the great exorcism of its 1998 sort-of- seeming-not-being. What do we need? What is the poem of the future?

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kristablogs · 4 years ago

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Solving the medical mystery of a brain that sees numbers as spaghetti

For patient RFS (identified by his initials), numbers appear as random squiggles and swirls. (Johns Hopkins University/)

The patient known as RFS looks at a number, but all he sees is “spaghetti.”

Show him a picture of one circle hovering above another, and he sees two circles. But as soon as the circles get close enough to look like an eight—spaghetti.

RFS developed corticobasal syndrome in 2010 at the age of 60, a rare progressive degenerative condition that affects less than one in 100,000 people per year and corrupts parts of the cortex and basal ganglia in the brain. After about a year of headaches, and flashes of vision loss and amnesia, RFS started having muscle tremors, difficulty walking, and—perhaps most strangely—the inability to see numbers. Experts have dubbed his number confusion “digit metamorphopsia,” and hope his condition could lead to a better understanding of human perception.

“Digit blindness isn’t quite accurate,” says Teresa Schubert, a neuropsychologist at Harvard and one of the lead authors of the new PNAS paper documenting RFS’s case. Blindness implies that he is seeing the number normally but just can’t recognize it—when actually every number he sees looks like a random assortment of tangled lines, like “a plate of spaghetti,” she says. In the paper, the researchers describe RFS holding a foam figure eight and saying that the shape is “too strange for words.”

Not only are numbers distorted, but the distortions change randomly each time. The “spaghetti” of an eight in one instance would look completely unrecognizable from the “spaghetti” of an eight in another.

“It’s just a mess every time. And that rules out any possibility of teaching him to recognize that this ‘spaghetti’ is a four and this is an eight,” Schubert says. “We also discovered that if other shapes are too close to a digit, they get absorbed into this warping, this spaghetti that he sees.”

So in the case of the two stacked circles, slowly coming together until they look like an eight, the visual distortion occurs as soon as RFS’s brain starts to categorize what he was seeing as a number.

But not all numbers are scrambled equally. Numbers in word form and Roman numerals all register normally with RFS. His condition only seems to warp common numerals, and even then there’s some discrepancy: zeroes and ones were completely spared, whereas two through nine are now completely unrecognizable.

So what’s going on? Schubert and her team have a few hypotheses. “It might be that zeroes and ones have very simple shapes with multiple interpretations,” she says. A zero could potentially be a circle or the letter ‘o', while a one could be just a line or an ‘I' or an ‘l'.

An alternate hypothesis is that zeroes and ones were saved because they both play a unique role in how we understand numbers and values.

“Zero as a concept wasn’t actually invented until many years after people started using digits,” Schubert says, and so when we think of things like the value of nothing, or different orders of magnitude, the digits zero and one have special roles in representing quantities. “It may be that those special roles protected them and preserved them when digits two through nine were getting damaged.”

But why numbers? Schubert says it’s probably random: “it could just as easily have been letters.” She explains that there are specialized areas in the brain that process things that people have to deal with regularly, like faces, digits, letters, and so on—these areas are all candidates for these conditions where whole categories can be knocked out.

The team also wanted to see if RFS could process other information in pictures of numbers. They showed him a large image of a number, with a word or image of a face somewhere inside the number, then asked RFS what he could see while monitoring his brain’s electrical activity on an EEG. RFS had no idea what he was looking at—it was all spaghetti. But the monitors showed that his brain detected the presence of a word or face even if he himself was not aware of it.

“This is a really unique case that disrupts our intuitions about the way we think we see things,” says Schubert. When most of us think of ‘seeing’, we think that an image comes through our eyes and is processed by the brain, and then, sight. “But what this case is really showing us is that your brain can be unconsciously detecting a face or a digit or even reading a word without you actually ‘seeing’ it.”

So there are possibly many more stages to awareness and being conscious of something than we previously thought.

Scientists have suspected that your brain can identify something while leaving your conscious awareness out of the loop for a while, but it’s hard to experimentally prove, says Schubert. But RFS’s case is incredibly strong evidence to back up this idea, and it will have huge consequences for research on perception. Any future theories that scientists come up with to explain how our minds become alert to information will have to reconcile with RFS’s case as an extra layer of criteria.

Today, RFS’s daily routine has needed some adjusting, to say the least. Digits are everywhere in modern life: clocks, books, recipes, prices, to name a few. To help RFS adapt with his digit metamorphopsia, Schubert’s colleague, Michael McCloskey, another author of the paper, came up with a new collection of symbols to represent numbers. RFS learned them quickly and has been using them for nine years now. Schubert and her team even enlisted the help of an engineering student to create a new calculator app with these new number symbols, and software for his laptop that converts digits on web pages. Of course, there are limitations. Static documents like books, PDFs, or the dials on the hood of a car are all still inaccessible to RFS.

To be clear, his understanding of numbers and the concepts of mathematics are all intact. In fact, up until a few years ago, he was still a working engineering geologist, and his mental arithmetic is still excellent. And while much of the numerical information in the world will remain out of his reach, RFS can live life more or less as normal—and he is mostly in wonder at his own condition.

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scootoaster · 4 years ago

Text

Solving the medical mystery of a brain that sees numbers as spaghetti

For patient RFS (identified by his initials), numbers appear as random squiggles and swirls. (Johns Hopkins University/)

The patient known as RFS looks at a number, but all he sees is “spaghetti.”

Show him a picture of one circle hovering above another, and he sees two circles. But as soon as the circles get close enough to look like an eight—spaghetti.

An alternate hypothesis is that zeroes and ones were saved because they both play a unique role in how we understand numbers and values.

So there are possibly many more stages to awareness and being conscious of something than we previously thought.

0 notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Dream - WarioWare Smooth Moves & The Glen Is My Shop & Why Not Another Practise

Date of Dream: THU 25 OCT - 2018 Dream No. 463 - Separated Sections Dream 463 A - WarioWare Smooth Moves I dont remember much about this dream. From where I do remember, this dream was actually playing in Diamond City. The time period of this dream was apparently during WarioWare Smooth Moves. The first segment was 9-Volts stage but 18-Volt was in it. In-fact, 9-Volts stage was in a completely different format to the real game. I cant remember every single detail of it but instead, 5-Volt was a part of this stage and she was being menacingly evil towards 9-Volt At least thats how she looked. She was leaning out from the sidelines, she kept her colour but she had those piercing yellow light eyes like in Sneaky Gamer and kept glaring out at 9-Volt. I believe this scenario was also based on the Game and Wario Gamer cover art. The next part of the dream showed Dribble and Spitz but I forgot what they were doing exactly. They looked like they did in WarioWare Gold and they were doing something with a taxi, cleaning it I think. Then I came into the dream and I went exploring to the outskirts of the city. I discovered Mona in a cave but it wasnt a youthful Mona. Rather, she actually looked like some old woman, although she kept her red hair and trendy clothes The only thing different was her wrinkly skin. She also spoke way differently than I expected her to, she literally had the voice of a Texan granny. She spoke to me but I forgot what she said. Thats all I can remember about this dream. Dream 463 B - The Glen Is My Shop I cant remember how the dream started. From where I can remember, I was at The Glen Shopping Centre with my brother and he was going to be meeting up with his friend from university, RK, as well as RKs brother, BK. Apparently it was Wednesday in the week. My brother spoke to me but he didnt seem to happy to have me around, based on his expressions and gestures. I forgot how this came up but I also mentioned how I would be coming back to The Glen on Thursday to get an entire stash of Darrel Lea treats and then on Friday to get Schnitz. The next scene took place in my bathroom and its here that I noticed I was wearing my school summer dress in this dream. I got into the bathtub but strangely, I still had my dress on. I ended up randomly playing around with these objects that may have been bath bombs. I actually got some on my dress and so was now frustrated that my dress was stained. I just kept continuing to fiddle around with all these dyes which more and more mess until the bathroom was completely saturated with coloured goop. Thats all I can remember about this dream. Dream 463 C - Why Not Another Practise I dont remember how this dream started. From where I do remember, I was at home on the back balcony with my dad. He was mentioning something about how he was talking to 18-Volt via texting and how I was going to go and do something with him. I dont know how to exactly explain it; later on in the dream, it reveals the true intention of what I was going to be doing. In the next scene, it showed me driving on a distorted version of the Monash Freeway in the Berwick/Pakenham/Officer direction, the only thing is, I didnt seem to be going for any exits anytime soon. In-fact, I didnt know where I was meant to be going at all and I seemed to be driving down the freeway endlessly. Eventually, I thought to myself that I was going to be lost and so it was best to turn back and go home. Back home, I was on the back balcony again but this time my dad wasnt there. His phone was lying on the small square table and so I decided to have a sneak peek and see what exactly was going on. I saw a few profile pictures in his conversations and one of them was in-fact 18-Volt as he would in the Game and Wario Gamer cover art. Once I read the conversation, I found out that I was apparently supposed to go for some work experience, supervised by 18-Volt and if he liked me enough, he would hire me. As soon as I finished reading the thread, I thought to myself, Absolute rubbish for the fact that this was arranged by my dad. I believed that if 18-Volt was a genuine friend/dream guide, hed like me for who I am, regardless of my strengths and weaknesses. The dream then moved to a completely new scene. In this scene I found myself to wearing full summer uniform, including the blazer on top this time. I was at a place that I claimed as my fortress (usually professional looking buildings where I live without my parents). Apparently there was a massive group coming over for a visit. This group consisted of people from my primary school and high school as well as a few extras, the group being led by familiar teachers. I got really excited when I heard that 18-Volt was a part of the group as well. Apparently the group were to enter on Level 2, meaning that I was waiting for them at the top of the main stairs that went up from the main city riverside walk. I watched as everyone was filing up, excitingly anticipating 18-Volts arrival especially, but then my hopes were starting to break a little. I though to myself, Wheres 18-Volt? I cant see him at all. I then spoke to a random member of the group, offering them some help but I forgot what I said specifically. SB immediately interrupted with some defamatory comment and started to bully me really badly. Me being the owner of the place and the leader, I stood up for myself and claimed that I was trying to help the person and that they asked for it. When that issue was resolved, I went back to watching the rest of the group walk in onto the rooftop entrance. Eventually, 18-Volt did show up and in-fact he was the very last person to come up the stairs. His appearance was a wide blend of all his possible forms. His skin, hair, clothing, and everything about him had a realistic human texture. His skin and hair tone, as well as his voice was based on WarioWare gold His hair was brown and his skin was a lighter brown. His face shape and position of features was based on WarioWare Touched. His clothes (plain singlet and denim shorts) and accessories were based of the Game and Wario Gamer cover. The dream finally made 18-Volt look like himself, with the addition of really muscly arms. He was also in a constant grin (this was his natural facial position for this dream) which made him look very sweet and youthful. As much as we wanted to go in for a hug, we resisted the temptation and managed not to as he was a part of the school group and I had to try and maintain my professionalism in-front of everyone else. After informally talking to 18-Volt for a while, I yelled out to everyone (to reach the front of the group) that although they entered on Level 2, we would heading over to Level 3 as thats where the auditorium was. I was walking at the back, still talking to 18-Volt when Mrs W came up behind us and said to me, might be good to have a some practise with the lift again, and I thought to myself, thats not a bad idea. This is where 18-Volt was no longer a school boy, but now a dream guide. Mrs W walked with us for a bit and I thought to myself, we could use the lifts at the library. As everyone went up the set of stairs outside the library, I yelled out Ill be there in a sec! Just go and Ill meet you up on level 3!. I then also told Mrs W to go up with everyone else and so she agreed and left me and 18-Volt to tackle the elevator ordeal on our own. Just the presence of 18-Volt on his own made me feel very calm, especially as he was smiling at me all the time as well as making other endearing gestures. There were multitudes of elevators to choose from in this area, all looking the same. He got to it and proceeded to pick me up, having his arms out, signalling for me to come closer to him. I got as close as I could and then after aiming carefully, jumped up and latched onto him, shooting my legs around his waist. He then put his arms around me, having one hand on my upper back and the other on my lower back. Once I got comfortable on 18-Volt, I noticed something absolutely bizarre All the elevators had suddenly disappeared! I gasped and couldnt believe what I was seeing. Hesitantly, I said something like I cant believe this, all the lifts Theyre gone?. 18-Volt turned his head to have a look and he was also dumbfounded by the sight, more than I was, you could literally see the look of sheer disbelief on his face, he was gobsmacked. We have to find another lift I said as he then put me down, following me out of the building. We were now back outside, trying to locate another suitable elevator. As I was walking, I couldnt see 18-Volt next to me but rather I believed that he was trailing close behind, following me wherever I went. I was talking to him the whole way, stating my frustration that I couldnt see many higher buildings anywhere, it seemed we were already on the rooftop and that level 3 was only a very small area. Eventually though, I saw a five or six story building placed at the back of the fortress campus and thought that this would be the next ideal place. After slowly looking around and checking the validity of the building, I agreed that this was the one. On entering into the foyer, I was wondering where the elevators were. 18-Volt had looked around a corner and signalled for me to come, a look on his face that said success. They were in the same area as the stairwell, two black elevator doors that had some weird square panel-like latch in the middle of them. Once again, I started to get myself ready to be cuddled and carried by 18-Volt. I realised that there were objects in my internal blazer pockets and so I had to take them out so they wouldnt be stabbing me and causing discomfort when I was on 18-Volt. Despite the size of a typical jacket pocket, I pulled out what claimed to be my walking stick, a really long brown varnished wooden cane. I ended up just throwing it off to the side somewhere, hearing it clunk against the nearby painted brick wall as it fell. The next thing I pulled out were my sunglasses which had white frames and blue tinted lenses. As I was trying to fit them on my face, 18-Volt gave me a strange look and then started fussing. He goes loudly whispering (almost speaking but not quite) to me, No no no no no, dont wear your sunnies in the lift as he then gently put a hand on my shoulder, thinking that it wasnt constructive to facing my fears as I was trying to darken my vision, attempting to block out my surroundings. I giggled and told him thats not what I was trying to do. I then explained What Im doing is placing them on and then sitting them up on top of my head. You could then see the relief on 18-Volts face as he finally understood what was going on. So now I could finally proceed to get my sunnies on, which was very hard to do. One side would go on and then one side would stab my cheek, it seemed like these sunglasses were too small. After a lot of fidgeting and manipulating, they seemed to go on in which I then flicked them up and combed my hair back with them. Now I was ready and so I got closer to 18-Volt but just as I was getting ready to jump onto him and secure myself, the dream faded out and I woke up to the waking life clock saying 10:35 AM. Dream 463: Results (Competition #8) 463 A Competition Night: 20 Lucid or Non-Lucid?: Non-Lucid Dream Guide: None Emergency Team: 9-Volt Eligible For Competition Points: Yes 463 B Competition Night: 20 Lucid or Non-Lucid?: Non-Lucid Dream Guide: None Emergency Team: None Eligible For Competition Points: Yes 463 C Competition Night: 20 Lucid or Non-Lucid?: Non-Lucid Dream Guide: 18-Volt Emergency Team: None Eligible For Competition Points: Yes Points For This Entry: 4.5 Calculation Details: - Non Lucid Fragment (0.5) - Old Personal Goal Achieved NL: Go to Diamond City (2.0) - Non-Lucid Fragment (0.5) - Full-Non Lucid Dream (1.0) - Have A Dream Guide Automatically Appear: 18-Volt (0.5) + Previous Total: 114.0 Total Accumulated Points: 118.5 Dream 463 C was rather an unexpected but pleasant surprise. After the events of Dream 460, I actually wrote to 18-Volt in my physical real life book, telling him that as a dreamer, I was starting to become scared of him. You may have noticed in past dreams that me may have presented himself in old age or was really strict towards me (or even both in some dreams)... Like he wasn't even 18-Volt and was rather someone completely different. In Dream 463 C, he seemed to address a lot of what I wrote. I asked for a more accurate appearance and one the biggest things I was constantly nagging him to do was to smile (because we all know that 18-Volt normally grins). The sum of the letter to him was to express himself as 18-Volt would express himself, basically. The elevator attempt was just an extra surprise, I was not expecting that to happen.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/karlab18/dream-warioware-smooth-moves-glen-my-shop-why-not-another-practise-85678/

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