#the quality of my translation could probably be better but whatever

[xavidotron]

The Kamigakari expansion I translated from Japanese is now out. There's definitely some really cool stuff going on in the Japanese TRPG scene! Kamigakari is a trad-ish investigation/combat urban fantasy game with a lot of cool weapons and powers and some clear Call of Cthulhu influence, and this expansion has some interesting stuff like scene templates that are trying to make running the game easier. Definitely an interesting branch of roleplaying!

[grison-in-space]

Stupidest of stupid questions: So humans are trichromatic, right? We basically have RGB eyes. How inefficient would it be to have CMYK eyes? Is it even possible?

You could absolutely do CMY eyes, but the K (being black) is a little more difficult because black isn't a wavelength of light so much as the absence of light. I suppose you could call the K your rods, which are best used in low light and convey things like "shadows" and "movement" particularly effectively. As a human, the most sensitive part of your retina, the part you're using when you directly look at things, is called the fovea. It is PACKED with cones, which are good for color and also tight spatial resolution; rods are found outside along the periphery of both the retinal and visual field. So we're just going to set the K aside now and think about those cones.

Honestly, tetrachromat eyes are technically pretty easy to achieve: all you need is four versions of cone-rhodopsin genes getting translated into different kinds of cone-rhodopsin cells in your retina. Old World primates evolved our trichromat eyes from dichromat mammalian ancestors exactly this way: with a gene duplication in one core cone-rhodopsin gene that allowed one of the copies to accumulate mutations until a sufficiently divergent copy fixed in the population.

So to have CMY eyes, you'd need three cone-rhodopsins with different wavelength sensitivities: one that is most sensitive to cerulean, one most sensitive to maroon, and one most sensitive to yellow. You might or might not have better color resolution than a regular old RGB human, though: color resolution is partly a function of the sensory information hitting your retinas, but it's also partly a function of how much brain space you dedicate to processing that information.

I mentioned my blind cat Arthur the other day--here's a photo:

Arthur is what we call cortically blind. As a kitten, he had an intact pupillary reflex and could probably see light vs dark, but he also had severe nystagmus, so his pupils jittered uncontrollably all the time and he probably didn't get a whole lot of useful visual input. Without the visual experience of seeing things and learning how to organize and process visual information, his brain as he developed went "you know what? fuck this" and stopped dedicating any processing power to whatever visual input he was getting.

Basically, he lost visual acuity because the information he was able to pipe to his brain was fragmented and poor-quality enough that his brain stopped bothering to process it. If I pulled his current eyeballs out and magically hooked up new totally functional ones, he wouldn't be able to do anything with them: his brain has given up sorting out the information.

So the question of whether theoretical CMY humans could distinguish colors better than RGB humans is driven by two things: one, whether having two highly-overlapping cones helps you distinguish between slightly variant light types better than very different cones, and two, whether we're extending the total visual range by moving the cones at the external ends of the range (B and R) farther apart. Overlapping but unique sensory information can be really helpful for localizing and distinguishing similar-but-not-identical inputs--that's one of the reasons owls are good at localizing quiet noises, actually, their ears are wildly asymmetrical and they can computer where a noise is made based on how loudly it can be heard with each ear, especially if the owl is on the move as it listens. Like the Doppler effect, but faster with a lot more processing power on it.

I have no idea which would be more effective, but it's a fun thing to think about!

[solitude-of-stars]

Yesterday I got accused of using AI for my writing

At first, it simply baffled me. Then I thought about it for a while until I didn't really know what to think or feel anymore. Anger? Amusement? Resignation?

A bit of context:

This December I posted an Advent Calendar for the fandom I'm most active in. One fic a day for 24 days. Various ships and other relationships, various plots and AUs, and all that jazz. I'm assuming this is what the person is referring to by mentioning "mass production".

Now, I know there are people out there that actually write a fic a day. I might have even tried something like that had I been younger, but these days I'm working full time, I'm married, and I need to do annoying things like chores, so I definitely didn't have the time or mental capacity to do that. Instead, I started planning and writing the fics in mid October and it took me almost two months to finish all of them. I don't know exactly what mass production in the context of AI fic means, but I have a hunch that writing roughly 27k words in the span of two months is not that.

I am also not a native speaker. I've been writing fic on and off for over 15 years, but I've only really started writing in English less than two years ago. I take great pride in it, and I've always gotten very positive feedback. Not a lot (because my fandom is mostly dead by now), but whenever people comment, they are very kind and supportive.

Nevertheless, deep down I still expect criticism of my writing. Bad grammar, wrong use of idioms, awkward wordflow ... you name it, I've probably worried about it. There's this feeling that probably a lot of non-native speakers experience: that you have to be better than most native authors to even be considered good enough. Every little mistake, typo, every awkwardly written sentence is proof that you're 'faking it', and that people will see you for the fraud you actually are and tell you to just go back writing in the language you're used to. No one has ever actually told me that, fortunately, but it's a feeling that has been persistently nagging at me since I changed to writing in English.

So yeah, I expected criticism. I just didn't expect this particular brand of it.

I understand the concern about AI fanfics. Really, I do. I read about fandoms getting flooded by authors churning out fic after fic after fic. Personally, I am very lucky that the fandom I write for is so small that AI is basically non-existent (as far as I know). There's only been one author who openly wrote a fic by using generative AI, but the fandom collectively chose to ignore it. No hits, no comments, no interaction all together, until the author deleted the fic.

Now, the only use of AI one could maybe accuse me of is that of an online translator, in the rare case I'm searching for a word/sentence and it's not this abstract feeling but something I can actually pinpoint in my native tongue. But that's it. I've never even considered using AI for one of my fics, because writing has always been enjoyable to me. Why would I leave something that gives me joy to a machine to do it for me?

But, in all honesty, I don't think the bad part about the comment I got was that the person thought I might have been using AI. Because I know I didn't, and most of my readers know it as well.

No, the devastating part to me is that the person feels the quality of my fic can be compared to whatever it is AI would spit out. That's what's getting to me.

I don't actually mind constructive criticism. Maybe it's a generational thing, but I grew up on fanfiction sites where you were actively encouraged to tell the author how they could do better. There were how-to-write-comments that gave you pointers what to focus on, and what could be considered helpful constructive criticism.

Or maybe this is actually a cultural thing. Coming from a country of people that are generally considered very -and sometimes uncomfortably - honest, I don't mind people telling me if there's something specific I could improve on. Will it sting? Yeah. But keep it nice and civil, and I won't be angry at you for it - I'll appreciate it.

Comparing my writing to, or even accusing it of being written by AI, feels like something entirely different. It's a very simple way of saying that what I write is something even below mediocrity. That it reads like it was written by an algorithm that can't understand and will never experience human feelings. Can't comprehend emotions, something that can't be captured by lots of 1s and 0s. Equates me to a thing that takes the stories and feelings other people created, before bunching it all up into one big pile of words, lifeless and replaceable.

And that's what's getting to me. I always thought my fics were good. Not great, but good enough that I personally enjoy rereading them. Writing helped me through some hard times, helped me find joy in creating again, something I remember from when I was younger but hadn't felt all throughout college. Writing was fun, a wonderful way to pass the time, and a way to connect with other people who enjoy the same nerdy stuff as me.

Now I don't feel like writing anymore.

Some people will probably say I'm exaggerating. That it's just one comment among many positive ones. And they'll be right. It's only one comment, but just like one bad day can make you feel like all the good ones you accumulated before don't matter, one bad comment can negate all the positive ones.

Fortunately, I had many people come to my defense already. Geat people that keep telling me I have worth. That congratulated me for writing 24 fics in time, that tell me I improve with every fic I write, and that never get tired of being simply awesome human beings. I'm lucky to have them.

My anxiety keeps telling me they're all wrong. That the one person is right, and that I should just stop trying. That I'm not good enough, that I will never be good enough, and that it's a miracle I've managed to fool them this long anyway.

Now, I will get over it. I know I will. I'll meet my friends and celebrate New Year's, I'll read a good book, listen to some music, play some Skyrim, and, before I know it, I'll be back in the mood for more writing. I can handle it. Because my enjoyment will be more important, in the end.

But you know who wouldn't have gotten over it this easily?

16 year old me. She would have been completely gutted over getting a comment like this. And I know there are many teens like her out there who are probably getting similar comments on their fics. And they don't deserve this.

So I guess what I want to say with my elaborate rambling is this:

Please stay kind. I know, AI is terribe, and seeing people using it to do something that you enjoy, and take over all those safe spaces we have built for ourselves, flooding carefully curated and beloved tags, is incredibly frustrating. And I'm afraid that I don't have a solution for that.

But please think twice before throwing around accusations like the one I've gotten. Maybe you actually find somebody who secretly used AI. They probably won't care enough to stop. But more likely you'll find someone who's just taking their first steps, deciding to write and post something they care about. That takes incredible courage, especially for people that write in a language that isn't their native one. They simply want to reach people, want to interact with them in a way that wouldn't be possible in their own language.

Don't ruin it for them.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 6 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—

--

Roger: Kate, I got something for you. The best from Victor’s armory.

(I’m being selfish)

Kate: A…gun?

When I handed it to Kate, who wanted to become strong, she was like a baby given her first toy.

(...Ha. That’s a cuuute face)

(Come to think of it…Not too long ago, she was living in a world without the scent of death)

Roger: Give it here. I’ll teach you how to shoot.

I took the gun back and aimed at a target in the distance.

All three bullets hit the target dead center.

Roger: The height you hold the barrel depends on the opponent’s feet. In close range, point it down. Long range, horizontal.If you’re in a room, on a train, or some place with obstacles, you can point it up. But keeping it steady takes practice.

If the muzzle’s shaking, you have a higher chance of hitting a comrade so the basic rule is to aim down. That’s about it. Now we just have to practice.

Kate: I’ll give it a shot…

I placed the gun back in Kate’s hand and moved behind to guide her.

(...She’s so small)

Roger: Grip it like this. Yeah, good. Keep your finger on the trigger…no, don’t squeeze it. Loosen up.

Kate: Okay.

Roger: Relax. Just pull it back.

When she pulled the trigger, there was a dry sound and a bullet grazed the target.

Roger: A little more to the left. Fire them all.

Kate: …

I watched as Kate continued to reposition her arm and pull the trigger.

(Her arm’s shaking. Well, that’s understandable. However…)

Her determined expression was very Kate-like and I enjoyed it.

Roger: Out of 6 rounds, 1 was a hit. 2 grazed the target. Not bad for a first time.

I’ll add this to your training so you better start doing push-ups every day.

Also—Kate, use this as a last resort. Got it?

--

After gun-handling lessons, I returned to my research.

—The smell of gunpowder wafted from my clothes, bringing back distant memories.

(It was a few days after joining Crown)

When the trickster of a Queen’s Aide cheerfully invited me to the lounge.

~~ Flashback ~~

Victor: This is the lounge where we drink, play, party, and hold strategic meetings. And when you touch the first glass on the left, third row from the top—Ah!

When I touched the “first glass on the left, third row from the top”, things popped out all at once.

Roger: A weapons collection? There’s a lot of them too.

Victor: Aw, you touched it before I could reveal what it was. How naughty of you. Yes, this is my weapons collection! One of the benefits of Crown is getting to use all the weapons you want! You’ll be going on missions soo, so pick whatever weapon you want.

Swords, small guns, sword canes, knives…all of them looked pretty high quality. But something caught my eyes.

Roger: …I’ll go with this one.

Victor: A hunting rifle? I won’t question you, but…

Roger: It’s difficult to use, stands out, not useful in close range, and I have poor eyesight. But to make up for my eyesight—I have my power…

To fulfill my ambitions, I gave up my future as a doctor.

From then on, I was a member of Crown. The opposite of a doctor who saved lives, I killed and condemned people.

With my skills and knowledge on how to save lives, I’ll be bearing the sin of killing people…forever.

Roger: Taking lives with this is what I need to stay myself.

When I said that, the queen’s aide gave a smile that complimented this darkness.

Victor: I understand, Roger. If that is what you want. —Now, pledge your allegiance to evil.

~~ End flashback ~~

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—what a brute.

(But that’s okay. There’s no regrets or doubts on the choices I’ve made)

(—However)

~~ Flashback ~~ 

Kate: I’m…frustrated…by how weak I am.

Roger: Last question. Kate, what do you want to be?

Kate: I want to be…

Strong…I want to be strong. Because I…don’t want to hate myself.

Besides…life’s too long to live in despair.

Roger: …

~~ End flashback ~~

(I don’t want to lose the lil’ lady…to the same path of a brute I chose)

The thought of Kate, so honest with a desire to be strong, killing someone and falling down that path…

I felt sick, like I was hungover after a day of terrible drinks.

The Webley revolver I gave Kate wasn’t for killing people. It was only to protect herself.

(From here on, there might be moments when Kate will have to kill)

(But, when that time comes…)

(I’ll be the one doing the killing instead) Roger: …Haha. I’m the type of guy who adores my dogs.

Next

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review: And the Hits Just Keep on Comin’ (1972)

With a title that snarkily alludes to his record company’s demand for hits, which he had not been producing, this album somehow manages to be deeply personal - to me and to Michael. From the liner notes:

“One of the great advantages of being an artist is that I am able to utilize my craft periodically to write messages to myself. Basically that it what this album is all about. I have tried to be as skillful as I could in the hopes that you as a listener would not feel left out. I have tried to make music as honest and beautiful, as harmonious and graceful, as I know how to make music ... But I am afraid that I must admit, and somewhat unabashedly, that I did it for me. I hope that on whatever level of unfoldment this music may find you that it will reward your attention and contribute something to your consciousness. I personally enjoy singing along to it all... But then it's very easy for me. I know all the words. Papa Nes.”

Not only is this album very beautiful and graceful musically, it is deeply sensitive, touching, and introspective. With the base album clocking in at just over 30 minutes, I suggest you just give it a listen yourself in order to really see what I mean. 

(and the review just keeps on comin' - below the cut!)

Favorite parts of the album:

In conjunction with the points mentioned above, perhaps the dearest part of this album to me is the fact that he did not cave and try to write a hit by assembling a third instance of the National Band which would have probably been fairly mediocre, or quit music altogether (he was under a contract, but so was he during the Monkees, and he was willing to pay a very high price to quit that one.) Instead, he whittled down his lineup to just himself on guitar and Red on pedal steel and recorded ten very simple but perfect songs. Even with the inclusion of the hit “Different Drum” this album did not make any waves during its time - such was the extent of Michael’s dedication to his craft, that he was not afraid (although he could certainly be frustrated and cynical) to put out a quality work that was at best unappreciated and at worst overshadowed by a poor copy. Personal favorites off of this album are “Tomorrow & Me,” “Harmony Constant,” “Roll With the Flow,” and the instrumental and initially unreleased “Cantata and Fugue in C&W” (which you may recognize from the background of a few Headquarters Sessions tracks) which I find to be a very soothing and almost nostalgic ending to the full album with all of its bonus tracks. One last note - every time Michael says “Go, Red” before a pedal steel solo, an angel gets its wings! 

Critiques:

If there is a weak link to this album, or a song that seems out of place, it is probably “The Candidate” - it’s a perfectly good song in its own right, but its cynical lyrics and darker tone might have been better suited for an album like Nevada Fighter or Tantamount to Treason. Finally, “Listening” is one of the few times that his poetic lyrics do not translate particularly well to the format of a song - the timing can be a bit awkward or forced at times. That being said, Red saves the track with a trippy sort of melting-chord pedal steel backing, so it retains its place on my no-skip list.

Conclusion:

Michael himself seems to know this album was one of his best, as he usually played several songs off of it when doing shows in the ‘90s, and he even did a reprisal tour in 2019 highlighting the full album. There’s something very special about seeing him perform these songs decades after they were written; you can see that he still stands by the words, and I hope wherever he is now he knows that I do indeed enjoy singing along to all of them too.

[enoughslices]

Do you subscribe to the notion that Scully had a punk phase? If so, when? If not, what style do you think she would like or may have taken up? I could ask the same for Mulder— do you have any preconceived notions of his stylistic choices that we may not have been shown in the show?

- Your Secret Santa!

Hi Secret Santa! I hope you are ready for a TED talk on the one million ways I can imagine Scully's fashion life 😂 First of all, I'm not generally a person with any one strong head canon about most things, so I enjoy it a lot of different ways in fics and art! I can promise you that if you go for whatever style choice feels right to you, I'm going to absolutely love it!! With that being said, I can definitely imagine Scully having had a punk phase, maybe in high school but especially in college. And I think the punk Scully fics and art are always super cute and fun! I could see her being someone whose "teenage rebellion" comes a little late, because canonically she's such a high achiever but also doesn't shy away from making choices her family doesn't understand or support. Like maybe as a teen military brat she just kind of didn't rock the boat but once she's off at college she does all of the style/identity experimentation she didn't do at home yet. In canon she's generally pretty straight-laced in terms of her style, but we do see some examples of her in earlier seasons in like... more fun, put-together casual or casual dressy clothes. So I could also imagine her being one of those people who seem kind of normcore at first glance but as you get to know them, you discover that they're super weird (compliment), actually, it's just lightly disguised by a messy bun, a stanley, and a girlypop fleece (recent era lol, so translated to 80s or 90s just like slightly preppy conservative-casual basics? Not cutting edge or super-duper trendy but also well within the general swath of what was common/popular at the time). I feel like the moire taffeta prom dress is an example of this lolll but 1) that was high school and 2) I'm always in full support of ignoring canon and just vibing however we want to! I do think that the workplace (if it's Quantico or Hoover) isn't really a place she shows her freak (in terms of fashion at least lol) and honestly I think the combo of early 90s + Scully intentionally trying to seem older and more professional at her job can justify a lot of her early season work fashions. Re: Mulder, my hottest take/unpopular opinion is that Mulder's canonical ties aren't actually terrible lmao! For the most part, they're pretty good quality ties that a slightly fashionable guy in the early 90s would have grabbed at a Nordstrom (department store) or whatever and felt pleased with his choices 😂 I see him in general as someone who is a little vain about his appearance; he does take some care with his clothes (I accept the Armani suits they put DD in as fact ahaha), and I do think he kind of wants to be/feel a little bit cool (poor boy lol). Whatever he's wearing when he's younger, I think it probably betrays some striving. Like, he's Trying™️. I also get a lot of joy out of imagining him as an absurd graphic tee guy (esp in AUs but sometimes in other contexts too, goofy cryptid t-shirts, et cetera). He definitely owns some novelty boxers lol. I also think he's the kind of guy who just seems a little cleancut no matter how edgy he tries to be. I headcanon him coming from money based on canon clues (the Martha's Vineyard and multiple properties of it all), but I could imagine him feeling self-conscious about that/trying to distance himself from it a bit when he's younger. Depends on the era/setting I guess, but it's fun to imagine younger him with :spins wheel: floppy hair and a ratty sweater but still just emanating Sad New England Wealthy Puppy Dog Boy against all of his better efforts 😂😂😂 Oh my gosh, I'm sorry for writing you an entire essay! You're the best, Secret Santa! Please do whatever you feel inspired to do and know that I will love it all!! <3 <3 <3

[thefeathercollective]

we're 99.9% sure that portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa was plural.

okay uh disclaimer. we're not a psychology or literature expert by any means. we rarely even read poetry. we only heard of this guy in high school literature class and the thought stuck with us and then we found plausible evidence lmao. also, as a plural system ourselves, we're clearly biased.

and a considerable amount of this post will be sourced from wikipedia. and this is the first time we've made a post like this. please don't come after us I'm just writing this for fun lmao

huge ramble ahead!

who even was that man

Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa (Portuguese: [fɨɾˈnɐ̃du pɨˈsoɐ]; 13 June 1888 – 30 November 1935) was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher, and philosopher, described as one of the most significant literary figures of the 20th century and one of the greatest poets in the Portuguese language. He also wrote in and translated from English and French.

yeah that's who the man was. but what really sparked our interest in him during class and made us wonder if he was plural were his...

✨heteronyms✨

y'know pseudonyms? when someone writes under a different name than their own for whatever reason? these are similar, but the catch is that the different names have different personalities, supposed appearances, philosophies, all that shit.

the term was coined by Pessoa himself, and his heteronyms were written as if they were real people. they had detailed careers, histories, etc. he had at least 70, although I vaguely remember some other source estimating it at around 100.

"but eva, these could just be OCs or something!",

he had 3 main ones though, being Alberto Caeiro (known for interpreting the world as-is, without greater meaning or anything, like some sorta anti-poet), Álvaro de Campos (a naval engineer who even had multiple phases in his philosophy) and Ricardo Reis (who wrote with a lot of structure and rationality, and was very pessimistic).

I predict someone typing. to that, I begin my endless copy-paste + ramble about all the things that make us think the heteronyms were headmates.

I'll throw in a section of a letter Pessoa wrote to some other poet (bolding the parts I find relevant because I don't love walls of text lmao)

How do I write in the name of these three? Caeiro, through sheer and unexpected inspiration, without knowing or even suspecting that I'm going to write in his name. Ricardo Reis, after an abstract meditation, which suddenly takes concrete shape in an ode. Campos, when I feel a sudden impulse to write and don't know what. (My semi-heteronym Bernardo Soares, who in many ways resembles Álvaro de Campos, always appears when I'm sleepy or drowsy, so that my qualities of inhibition and rational thought are suspended; his prose is an endless reverie. He's a semi-heteronym because his personality, although not my own, doesn't differ from my own but is a mere mutilation of it. He's me without my rationalism and emotions. His prose is the same as mine, except for certain formal restraint that reason imposes on my own writing, and his Portuguese is exactly the same – whereas Caeiro writes bad Portuguese, Campos writes it reasonably well but with mistakes such as "me myself" instead of "I myself", etc.., and Reis writes better than I, but with a purism I find excessive…)

so not only does he describe writing Caeiro completely unexpectedly, he also gives the same sort of opinion about his heteronyms' writings that we've seen (and experienced) plural folks give about their headmates' typing or drawing styles.

hell, "writes better than I but with a purism I find excessive" is exactly my opinion of lynn when he does our assignments lmao

the semi-heteronym surfacing when Pessoa is sleepy could be some sorta dissociative state that lets a headmate come through, be it straight-up fronting or passive influence... but I'm probably forcing it too much here.

uhhh here's something on the heteronym thing from some guy called richard zenish. I bolded some parts again

For each of his 'voices', Pessoa conceived a highly distinctive poetic idiom and technique, a complex biography, a context of literary influence and polemics and, most arrestingly of all, subtle interrelations and reciprocities of awareness. [...] Pessoa was often unsure who was writing when he wrote, and it's curious that the very first item among the more than 25,000 pieces that make up his archives in the National Library of Lisbon bears the heading A. de C. (?) or B. de D. (or something else).

"okay.... they could still be characters though"

the heteronyms were aware of and sometimes interacted between themselves. wikipedia's list of Pessoa's heteronyms even has the man himself as a heteronym and pupil of Alberto Caeiro, although I don't feel like going after the source for that bit.

dear hypothetical person I'm quoting here, you're entitled to your opinion. but how about we take, say... a more DID/OSDD-y approach to things? because there's things that hint that Fernando Pessoa's plurality could be traumagenic and/or disordered too.

When Pessoa was five, his father, Joaquim de Seabra Pessôa, died of tuberculosis and less than seven months later his younger brother Jorge, aged one, also died (2 January 1889).

(written by himself about himself:) Nothing had ever obliged him to do anything. He had spent his childhood alone. He never joined any group. He never pursued a course of study. He never belonged to a crowd. The circumstances of his life were marked by that strange but rather common phenomenon – perhaps, in fact, it's true for all lives – of being tailored to the image and likeness of his instincts, which tended towards inertia and withdrawal.

(written by a schoolfellow:) For one of his age, he thought much and deeply and in a letter to me once complained of "spiritual and material encumbrances of most especial adverseness". He took no part in athletic sports of any kind and I think his spare time was spent on reading. We generally considered that he worked far too much and that he would ruin his health by so doing.

so childhood trauma, check...? at the very least this stuff doesn't sound very good for a child's mental health.

Pessoa's earliest heteronym, at the age of six, was Chevalier de Pas. Other childhood heteronyms included Dr. Pancrácio and David Merrick, followed by Charles Robert Anon, a young Englishman who became Pessoa's alter ego.

"I can remember what I believe was my first heteronym, or rather, my first nonexistent acquaintance — a certain Chevalier de Pas — through whom I wrote letters to myself when I was six years old, and whose not entirely hazy figure still has a claim on the part of my affections that borders on nostalgia. I have a less vivid memory of another figure . . . who was a kind of rival to the Chevalier de Pas. Such things occur to all children ? Undoubtedly — or perhaps. But I lived them so intensely that I live them still; their memory is so strong that I have to remind myself that they weren’t real."

oh I just found some spiritual stuff too

the appearance of the first heteronym was after his family members died so that's one thing... and like, that's not just one childhood heteronym but at least four. and well, to me they sound a bit too vivid for your average imaginary friend.

Pessoa's interest in spiritualism was truly awakened in the second half of 1915, while translating theosophist books. This was further deepened in the end of March 1916, when he suddenly started having experiences where he believed he became a medium, having experimented with automatic writing. [...] Besides automatic writing, Pessoa stated also that he had "astral" or "etherial visions" and was able to see "magnetic auras" similar to radiographic images. [...] Mediumship exerted a strong influence in Pessoa's writings, who felt "sometimes suddenly being owned by something else" or having a "very curious sensation" in the right arm, which was "lifted into the air" without his will. Looking in the mirror, Pessoa saw several times what appeared to be the heteronyms: his "face fading out" and being replaced by the one of "a bearded man", or another one, four men in total.

........

man, this wikipedia article is extensive and full of stuff that supports our silly little theory, huh.

yeah, so he attributed it to spiritual reasons which is fair and valid, but... "owned by something else" all of a sudden? the thing with the right arm sounding a lot like partial possession in tulpamancy? seeing his heteronyms' faces in the mirror?

yeahhhh.

(I'm guessing the magnetic aura thing could be some sorta derealization, contributing to the he-was-a-dissociative-system hypothesis, but that's yet another stretch on my part.)

(plus, spiritual plurality is a thing.)

oh! this thing he wrote sounds a lot like it too.

"This tendency to create around me another world . . . began in me as a young adult, when a witty remark that was completely out of keeping with who I am or think I am would sometimes and for some unknown reason occur to me, and I would immediately, spontaneously say it as if it came from some friend of mine whose name I would invent, along with biographical details, and whose figure — physiognomy, stature, dress and gestures — I would immediately see before me."

let's just do a quick google..

am I biased? yes, very much so. but y'know. you can see I have my reasons.

to see if any people with more qualifications than we have think the same about Fernando Pessoa possibly being plural lmao.

...oh, yes. contrary to what we thought a couple years ago when we had that class about the guy, other people have indeed thought the same. and written about it.

keywords "fernando pessoa mpd" give us:

this paper from 2012 (in portuguese) that... well, I *think* it claims he had mpd but it's very convoluted and abstract about it

this little... forum post? from 2009 that quotes a dead link :v

this one seems kinda cool. it regards Pessoa's positive approach to his heteronym-having as a creative condion called Pessoa Syndrome, and later mentions some Multiple Personality Order (not disorder). don't love some of its wording about mental disorders and madness... it's good to see someone consider healthy multiplicity as a thing that exists, though. it also claims Pessoa became someone with multiple personalities through his heteronymic writing, which is yet another possible origin I hadn't considered before for some fucking reason.

this one cites a dissociative process

this one straight up calls it "subject plurality"!

conclusion ig. I'm pretending to be organized here.

other keywords (like "fernando pessoa dissociative") provide some more results :0 but I've been writing this post for far too long now and would rather not read through more odd wording lmao

it really surprises me that wikipedia doesn't mention the possibility at all from what I've read and ctrl+F'ed. I thought we were being a conspiracy theorist about it but then I found even more stuff to back us up, including other people's analyses. so that's nice.

and I think this kind of thing, of plurals of the past, should be talked about more in the community. it's really interesting to say the least.

...

how does one even end a post like this one.

uhh thanks for reading!!

[whochromatic]

I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must...

*reads it anyways*

Why did I do that. Damnit, I should've known that reading that chapter would have re-activated my need for more. I was way better off ignoring anything related to Yohaji and just went about my day, not thinking about Yohaji every minute of the hour of the day of the week. But the damage has been done. Now I have to read the whole manga all over again just to satisfy myself once again. But no. That's not enough. I searched every corner to hunt every single content of Yohaji. Tumblr. Twitter. Youtube. Tiktok. Ao3. Our lord and savior Canada's account. The giver of reason in life, one who resurrects the dead, the sailor uniform to my life, Tanamai-sensei's account. I know that the Yohaji content in this world is not enough and will NEVER be. The moment I discovered this manga, I knew that it would be my life. The fact that it had only reached me last year, ber month is unforgivable. Why did it not have content as many as the amount of numbers there are to exist so that it could reach me at the start of it's existence? It should have been Yohaji. Not BNHA! Nothing against that anime by the way. Well, I am grateful that I stumbled upon Yohaji while it had 100+ chapters though. And the fandom being small enough to only have nice and cool people in it. But those fics in ao3 though? Why- I mean, I don't really care or pay attention to them but the fact that the amount of nsfw fanfics is probably (I'm saying probably because they might just be more) equal to the amount of sfw fanfics in there is- I swear, WHY ARE THERE SO LITTLE FANFICS OF YOHAJI?! 3 PAGES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? There might be more in other places but I only read in ao3 and Tumblr if I find some there. I'm so thankful for the translators though!!! I love y'all. I love the fandom. I love the characters. I love Yohaji. I love the creator. God- sorry I forgot I can't use sensei's name in vain. I'm telling y'all, Tanamai is the GOAT. A GENIUS!! Your brain is beautiful. What goes on in head yours? Tell and everyone might gain more braincells. What's with you? What's with your humor?? What's with your lore?! WHAT'S WITH YOUR ART??? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?! SENSEI WHEN I CATCH YOU OHH WHEN I CATCH YOU. But of course, it's not your fault that I'm starving for more Yohaji chapters. One month is nothing to me- IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CREATE THIS WONDERFUL AND HEAVENLY HOOK THAT CAUGHT ME EVEN ONLY WITH IT'S TITLE AND ART?? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?! Senseiiiiii*sob* waaaaaahh... Still, I'm sooo happy this is getting an anime this year!! I've been waiting for this ever since I found out it existed along with other Yohaji fans. I knew it would happen soon enough because it's the law. It's a crime to not make an adaption of amazing yet weird yet amazing manga like no other. Death row. DEATH ROW!! It's fine even if it's low quality. As long as it exists, I can finally pass on peacefully- when it airs it better be as good as the manga and look immaculate, I'm telling you. Haha, just kidding. Or am I..? I cannot wait until April or whatever how long it takes for the anime to air just please. Please even the trailer only. But I'm sure everyone is already working hard to make the anime for it. Do your best!! You're doing the right thing! And.... uhm.. 24 episodes... please..? AHHH HARUAKI'S SMILEEE!!! IT'S INVADING MY MIND!! GET OUT! PLEASE GET OUT!!! THIS LOWLY UNGRATEFUL UNDESERVING WORSE THAN DUST BUZZ BUZZ KILLABLE STUPID MORTAL ABOMINATION CAN'T HANDLE OR DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I can't do this. More. More. More Yohaji. I NEED IT. IF AIR AND SAILOR UNIFORM IS LIFE THEN SO IS YOHAJI!! RAAAAAAAHHH

Also I accidentally deleted a longer version of this and rewrote it with my memory. Thanks for wasting your time on this like I did.

[veebs-hates-video-games]

It really is nice finally having a genuinely good Mana game for the first time in over 20 years, not counting remakes. Even counting them I only really thought the Trials one was particularly noteworthy because of how much stuff they improved, especially compared to playing the original with the extremely iffy fan translation when the patch first came out over 20 years ago. The others have been fine but haven't really offered much over the originals aside from looking a little nicer and not needing a console from the 90s to play them legit.

Anyway, as someone who got started with the series as a kid in the 90s, Visions of Mana is a lot of fun.

The people who worked on it really did their homework figuring out what makes the series work and made something that feels like it belongs right next to all the others. It's very much a 90s action JRPG with modern sensibilities and quality of life features, and an actually good translation (which is mostly worth mentioning with how questionable most of them were back then, even from big companies like Squaresoft).

They really captured the visual style of the series and somehow made it work in real time in 3D, full of bright colors and lush landscapes and all the silly little quirks of the Mana games like turning into a snowman when you get frozen. The music's pretty good too and calls back to a bunch of themes from previous games while introducing some new ones too. I don't think most of them will stick in my head for decades like some of the originals, but it's still pretty enjoyable.

Also enjoyable? All of the characters. The story isn't super deep, but it's got the kinds of themes the series likes to go for, and it gives lots of opportunities for the main cast to play off each other in fun ways. I liked them all, but I think Palamena (the squirrel queen who just wants to pretend to be normal but doesn't know how) and Morley (the sad catboy who blames himself for the loss of everyone he knew) ended up being my favorites.

It's kind of funny that the previous game in the series I played was the Trials remake, where the main character I played was the glass cannon magic user who's a princess and the biggest brat the series has ever seen. Then I came here and mostly played the glass cannon magic user who's instead a queen and just wants to be friends with and help everyone. Good contrast.

One of the devs mentioned in an interview that one of the things that inspired the world design was Xenoblade, and it shows (in a good way). Large areas, but not open world, fantastical landscapes with plenty of verticality, running around collecting glowing dots that give you minor resources along the way to wherever you're going, usually something or other in every random corner of the map you poke your way into, and specifically like XC1 a lot of kind of uninspired side quests to go kill or collect however many of whatever. I still did most of them, but most of them are really not the highlight of the game.

Combat's fun though, which is good because there's plenty of it along the way. Could be a little better and a little tighter, and I'd love better feedback on stuff like whether I time dodges right or not, but there's enough variety and customization that you can probably figure out something fun that works for you.

Really the only part that I didn't really like was in the post-game stuff. I liked that they used it to tie together and wrap up a few random side things from the main story, and it was good enough most of the way through, but the final boss of that side quest storyline was probably the single least fun thing in the entire series for me so far. It's not even that hard, just incredibly tedious and designed to counter any of the ways I like to actually play the game. Kind of wish I'd just stopped after the credits and ending, because having that as the last thing I did instead made me like the game very slightly less.

Anyway, it was nice to have something that starts with a vaguely similar premise to the pilgrimage in FFX but then turns out to actually be something I like instead of just getting progressively worse as it goes on like FFX did for me. It kinda sucks that the reward for the people who made it was getting their entire company shut down at the same time the game launched. Hopefully they all find work somewhere doing something interesting, because they're clearly good at what they do, and hopefully Squenix keeps making stuff like this for people like me who've been sick of what they're doing with stuff like FF for years at this point.

[room-surprise]

Dungeon Meshi Anime Season 1, Episode 1 Review

Spoilers for season 1, episode 1 of the anime below the cut!

I watched both the English sub with Japanese audio, and the English dub, on Netflix.

I think overall it's very good, has a good tempo and doesn't mess with the pacing or characterization in any major way, very faithful to the manga. I think there could have been SOME improvements or adjustments made, but I'm not at all surprised that it didn't happen, making 1:1 extremely faithful manga adaptations seems to have become the norm lately.

On the plus side, that means that if this current level of quality continues, that the anime will always be at least as good as the manga... which is already very good! So that's great.

But on the negative side, that means it won't ever be better than the manga, and that makes me a little sad, because I think an anime adaptation of Dungeon Meshi could absolutely surpass the manga, if they were willing to take some risks, and with Ryoko Kui's guiding hand. Anyway.

Love the OP song, love it's old timey tavern feel and that it's not a straight up jpop or jrock song. Soundtrack music was really nice. Animation was great.

Love that they show a closeup of Falin's open eyes in the OP so we'll know.... ;3 later

Things that I didn't like as much:

Almost all the background text is in Japanese when it wasn't in the manga. Kui often used glyphs or scribbles to indicate that things aren't in English or Japanese.... but they're just using Japanese as far as I can tell.

Netflix America doesn't translate most of it either. They also don't put in the English logo on the opening even though they have it on the show homepage... Don't know if they'll fix it later.

Personally, I think it would also be fine if all the releases had the background in-universe text appear in the target language so the implication is "this is in the viewer's language, whatever that is, but that isn't the actual fantasy language being used in-universe". But I doubt this will happen.

And there is SOME text in glyphs! The dungeon gourmet book isn't in a real language when it's shown... I think it's just laziness. I would honestly very much prefer nonsense text in a variety of languages than this.

In the Japanese I genuinely thought Laios was providing the narration, so I was totally taken aback when there was a different narrator in English.... and I honestly liked it a LOT better when I thought Laios was narrating, it felt really natural and good! So sad that it isn't actually what's happening. Don't really like the slightly snarky David Attenborough style nature commentary narrator. Feels weird and jarring at times.

Subtitles are fine, but there's some things that are randomly different for no good reason, subs say Senshi means "researcher" and dub says "seeker" and.... Senshi doesn't have a mouth, you don't need to match his dialogue to mouth-flaps, you can make him say ANYTHING you want so why have it be different?

There's some dub script choices I REALLY hated and am probably going to die mad about lmao:

Marcille saying that their "inventory" was wiped out, like they're in a video game, calling the scared adventurers "newbs" like they're in a video game, saying "as if" like she's a 90's California girl.

Senshi saying "delish" instead of "delicious" . There's no mouth flaps, why shorten it to a modern slang term that feels unnatural?

Laios also says "geez" which is short for "jesus" so they could have picked literally anything else for him to say, I'm sure the Japanese was probably "mattaku" which just means "Really?" (too lazy to confirm this lol)

Chilchuck says "god" and you could just have him... not say that. Or say "gods" because there's multiple gods in Dungeon Meshi.

Those were my major thoughts so far. Overall thought it was great and I enjoyed it! Looking forward to more!

It's not perfect, but I have seen much, much, MUCH worse adaptations lmao so I'm excited for when they get to some of the more dynamic action scenes in the second half of the manga.

[thelenazavaroniarchive]

13th April 2025.

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. GO, - a Swedish magazine devoted one and a half pages to Lena.

Translation;

“𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐬… 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐙𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢”

A sonic boom reverberated throughout the whole of English show business when a hoarse girl’s voice belted out “Ma! He’s Making Eyes at Me” on a television show, with professionalism and get-up-and-go seldom seen in her peer group. Lena Zavaroni happens to be a scant ten years old. Now, this Scots lass - a weenybopper, as they call those yet to reach thirteen years of age - has plied her trade in Denmark, and whatever opinion one may have about the vagaries of child stardom, it’s hard to deny that she is a phenomenon. GO met with her. And in so doing, encountered–for the first time–a problem. We have interviewed some of the most outrageous and impossible people under the most impossible circumstances about the most absurd subjects… but what do you ask a girl of ten years who could pass for one just celebrating her seventh? You can hardly ask her views on the subject of women’s liberation. And it may prove a little too daunting to ask if she plays with Legos, or whether her father is the one to handle her earnings. So, we opt for a more casual approach as Lena darts about the room, while her father and English manager help her sort out practicalities.

GO: “How much weekly pocket money are you allotted?” Things grow quiet for a bit before her manager interjects: “One pound.”

And Lena says: “One pound (roughly 10 SEK).”

GO: “Are you planning to go on singing?”

Lena: “Oh yes, even until I am 150 years old.”

GO: “What do you do when not at school or singing?”

Lena: “I play with my mates.”

To illustrate the nature of said play, she unleashes a torrent of unintelligible Scottish phrases emphasized by a litany of expressive arm movements. Rough-and-tumble proceedings, in no uncertain terms.

GO: “Do you attend private school?”

Lena: “Yes.”

Her manager, Dorothy Solomon, adds: “But only in conventional subjects, like English. Lena has never received lessons in song.”

GO: “The songs on your LP are almost without exception old ‘schlagers.’ Will there be any new material on your next LP?”

Her manager replies again: “Most of the songs are new to Lena, given her young age. But the next LP will contain several numbers written for her specifically.”

GO: “Which are your favourites?”

Lena: “Lulu and Shirley Bassey. I would love to make a TV show, and have them as guests.” GO: “Do you get many fan letters?”

Lena: “Absolutely lots.”

Dorothy Solomon: “Almost a hundred a day.”

Lena: “My mother answers them. Most people tell me they really love me, and that they want my picture.”

Dorothy Solomon: “They come from people of all ages.”

GO: “You’re probably aware many people don’t care for child stars. Do you think it’s too early to start at ten?”

Lena: “I don’t think so. I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember. I also know a song in Italian, but I don’t know what the words mean.”

This marks the end of our series of questions, lest we embark on discussions on which is better: liquorice, bubble gum, or popcorn.

“Kindly say goodbye,” says Lena Zavaroni’s manager as I leave. She is a markedly obedient girl, and obligingly says farewell, and extends her hand. What more is there to add? Perhaps that she does seem to stand a fair chance of outlasting your average child star - at least, she need not worry until the onset of puberty! GO’s overseas correspondent has started a class in modern child-rearing, as he is convinced that the next weenybopper idol should be recruited from Bagarmossen day care center! The fact that Lena Zavaroni’s records are selling like hotcakes does not speak to their quality so much as it does the public’s astonishment at the preternatural singing ability of this ten year old girl. Nor was it Jimi Hendrix’s talent that brought him to the fore in his time. Rather, it was his ability to play guitar with his teeth. And, like a wise man once said: The most famous musician in the world will be the one who can play “Summer Night on Gotland” on the trumpet, with the help of the world’s longest and loudest fart! Alas, it’s all about

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. In Record Mirror, Lena was 38 in the singles chart and 24 in the album charts.

https://www.worldradiohistory.com/.../Record-Mirror-1974...

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. The Glasgow Herald mentioned Lena on it's television listings page for her appearance in Junior Showtime the following day.

https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=o45AAAAAIBAJ...

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. In America, Cash Box reviewed Lena's single - Ma!...

https://www.worldradiohistory.com/.../1974/CB-1974-04-13.pdf

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. Billboard mentioned Lena in it's international news section and she also appeared on the international charts page.

https://www.worldradiohistory.com/.../Billboard%201974-04...

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓. The Sunday Mirror reported that Lena would be driven into tax exile.

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗. The Llanelli Star ran an article about Anorexia and Bulimia, which included a photograph of Lena.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑. In Ireland, the Sunday Tribune spoke to Andrew O'Hagen.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

AND THERE IS NOTHING TO SEE OUTSIDE

In particular, it will rot your brain. There will always be expensive, because the light is better there.1 What students lack in experience they more than make up in dedication. Companies of all sizes have a hard time getting software done. I remember from it, you probably never will. Whereas if you're determined to stick around, you'll probably grow, your price will go up, and the answer is yes, they say Great, we'll send you a hand-written note after you buy a custom-made car, something will always be to get a job.2 One reason, obviously, is to work for Google instead because he thought he'd learn more there. Mostly we create wealth for other people you have, the more it has to be given to them. This is easy advice to give. Most investors know this m.

For as long as you leave open the option of getting rich translates into buying Ferraris, or being admired. Instead of taking money from the rich. Or more precisely, preorders has helped a lot.3 If you build something popular is that you shouldn't relax just because you have no visible competitors yet. You could also rob banks, or solicit bribes, or establish a monopoly. Which is exactly how I'd describe the way lions seem in the wild must feel better to a wide-ranging predator like a lion. But after the habit of thinking of software as having users.4 But you only have a small number of expensive ones. It is.5 For example, Ben Silbermann noticed that a lot of things that go wrong when kids grow up sufficiently poor. Workers were for these companies what servers are for an Internet startup.

But the Collison brothers weren't going to wait. And they will. I realized I'd been holding two ideas in my head that would explode if combined. The owner wanted the student to pay for subscriptions. One of the advantages of having kids is that when you have to do at the start is to recruit users, and all users care about is whether your product does what they want by themselves. The thing I probably repeat most is this recipe for a startup: get a job doing B, and then either by taxation or by limiting what they can charge to confiscate whatever you deem to be surplus. The arrival of crowdfunding or more precisely, will either fit in one car—or more precisely, preorders has helped a lot. If they take you up, no competitor can keep you down. The acceleration of productivity we see in Silicon Valley has been happening for thousands of years, I'll bet on the curve. But though other fields may share it, I think we're better off attacking one step downstream, where wealth turns into power. But the evidence of the last 200 years shows that it doesn't even seem like the most important quality in a startup, there's always one right there.6

Such labels may help writers too. In fact, why go to college at all? I desperately needed on stuff that I didn't have to worry about money. I interviewed Mark Zuckerberg at Startup School, he said that while it was a college town out in the countryside.7 They could have chosen any machine to make into a star.8 But one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, is worry about the increasing gap between rich and poor evaporate. The reason I say short-term greed, the labels and studios have put themselves in the position of the food shop. So investors who won't invest unilaterally will have lower returns. But one thing that might work is to ask whether the ideas represent some kind of external test you can use this information in a way that's incompatible with this curve. But liking the idea of inhabiting a world ruled by intelligence.9

Imagine how depressing the world would be if it were merely a fan we were studying, without all the extra baggage that comes from the controversial topic of wealth, no one can make you do it unconsciously. One of the mistakes novice pilots make is overcontrolling the aircraft: applying corrections too vigorously, so the line gets drawn at code.10 This seems an inevitable consequence of bigness. Basketball players make about 128 times as much land in a day as he could with a team of horses. And if you don't make much from it, you probably never will. The founders of Kiko, for example, will cheerfully work 20-hour days to produce the Apple computer for a society that confiscates private fortunes. Another thing you can say things you wouldn't say, you'll hear the clank as it hits the page. For example, thinking about getting involved with someone—as a cofounder, ask if they are.

Back when he was 19. So eliminating economic inequality means taking money from the rich turns out to be really tough than the quiet ones. Someone who's figured that out will automatically focus more on the user. Instead of starting from companies and working back to the root causes. Later when things blow up they say I knew there was something off about him, but I don't see how we could replace founders. He didn't stay long, but he wouldn't have returned at all if he'd realized Microsoft was going to be slightly influenced by prestige, so if the two seem equal to you, you may as well play it safe. This is an excellent strategy for making the poor richer. I learned to keep a company as small as it can be extended by users. I find myself saying a lot is don't worry.

Notes

He had equity. But should you do it is possible to make people use common sense when intepreting it. Startups Condense in America consider acting white.

I think investors currently err too far on the group's accumulated knowledge.

It's more in the old one. Turn on rice cooker and forget about it wrong in How to Make Wealth when I switch person.

The history of the iPhone too, of course, Feynman and Diogenes were from adjacent traditions, but the returns come from going to have this second self keep a journal. The French Laundry in Napa Valley. Which in turn means the slowdown that comes from ads on other sites.

Which implies a surprising but apparently unimportant, like movie stars' birthdays, or some vague thing like that, in virtue of Aristotle's immediate successors may have been lured into this sort of work is not really a lie because it's a significant startup hub. If a bunch of actual adults suddenly found themselves trapped in high school is rounding error compared to adults.

Fortuna! No one wants to the code you write for your pitch to evolve as e.

This is why, when I was writing this. If idea clashes became common enough, even thinking requires control of scarce resources, political deal-making power. If you actually started acting like adults, it could change what you're doing is almost pure discovery.

They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still. Html.

But that's not art because it reads as a monitor.

A knowledge of human nature is certainly more efficient.

[amplexadversary]

Kind of dumb how it's taken me like 3 tries to watch Witch from Mercury. Might be even more dumb that I'm giving it a third chance.

Last place I tried (which was gundaminfo, what the hell gundaminfo?) didn't have the last 6 episodes available. Which was annoying to find out after episode 18. I absolutely WOULD have finished it if that wasn't the case, though I didn't particularly enjoy it.

First time I gave up because something about the sub is really irritating to me. Part of it is I feel like they over-use the passive voice but that can't be all of what's bugging me because that usually doesn't irritate me so much. It could be the word choice is a little grating.

Or maybe its that they don't tweak the syntax and word choice enough to differentiate between the characters. I get that that's hard to do without sacrificing some accuracy, and that translations of shows with stronger animation and story and characters can get away with not bothering with that. I think GWitch doesn't have those strengths, and while the Japanese Voice acting probably made up a huge amount of that for the intended audience, a lot of the details, and thus the benefit, are lost on my monolingual ass. I think i feel confident enough to make the claim that GWitch just needs higher quality subtitles then a better anime can get away with.

I tried the dub and I'm actually liking it a little better. The English voice acting is surprisingly decent (and enunciated thank fuck) so I can pay more attention to the overall scene instead of whatever line of dialogue is currently on the screen. Which. Could have been remedied by better subtitles but wasn't.

[iconuk01]

This has long been a favourite commission, one of the first I had done, and I got REALLY lucky in finding Mitch Ballard as he knew exactly how to translate what I was asking for, in a suitably comic appropriate way, and this is a classic example.

I'd asked for Deathstroke having captured Dick Grayson's Robin, circa New Teen Titans era, and posing with his catch like the big-game hunter Slade had been, maybe with Robin caught in a net or something, but Mitch had a much better idea (Which is why you should always let the artist have their say)

So Slade has indeed captured Robin, and is probably having his photo taken with his prize trophy. The plaque above the fireplace reserved for, presumably, Robin's mounted head, was a nice macabre implication without going TOO far. This is something that could easily have been a genuine cover or a splash page in the 80's.

But one thing I especially liked (which isn't always obvious from the scan quality I could originally post) and made me realise that it was lucky I'd found Mitch, was just how ANGRY he made Dick. The Teen Wonder may be pretty helpless right now, but it os clear he is NOT going to make ANYTHING easy for Slade.

(The annoyance/anger is something I instantly realised I wanted to see in my captive Robin's and so became a regular addition to my commission description, but Mitch is the one who made me realise that)

Dick is tensed up and leaning away to get as much distance between him and Slade as he can whilst tied up and with a rope around his neck, plus he is probably working away at whatever his binding his wrists as hard as he can.

I mean, just check out that GLARE! He is working on several shades of payback on Slade right this moment!

And here it is with colours by Tom Smith, one of George Perez's preferred colourists.

[missmonsters2]

Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

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You heard the news through Bruce. 

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else. 

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone. 

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone. 

Steve was gone. 

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it. 

Vision was gone. 

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound. 

Natasha was gone. 

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days. 

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it. 

Natasha was back. 

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed. 

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

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You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to. 

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. 

It made you sick to your stomach. 

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were. 

She was in good hands. 

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

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The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him. 

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong. 

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

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June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies. 

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile. 

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh. 

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully. 

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?" 

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

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April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed. 

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you. 

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed. 

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

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June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again. 

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical. 

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

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September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door. 

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils. 

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

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June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to. 

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face. 

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around. 

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back. 

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her. 

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Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted. 

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell. 

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way. 

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this. 

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through. 

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs. 

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them. 

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you. 

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing. 

"Nat?" 

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you. 

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage. 

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"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head. 

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl. 

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him. 

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks. 

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before. 

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

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It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet. 

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this. 

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility. 

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest. 

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod. 

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from. 

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?" 

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield. 

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

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"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular. 

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you." 

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom. 

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in. 

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer. 

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water. 

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked. 

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way. 

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly. 

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll. 

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned. 

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor. 

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water. 

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately. 

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful. 

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away. 

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet. 

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private. 

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands. 

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out. 

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed. 

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair. 

So delicate. 

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside. 

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself. 

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid. 

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively. 

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn. 

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling. 

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears. 

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled. 

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha. 

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer. 

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel. 

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say. 

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

[windvexer]

hey chicken! what can i do in the dry periods in which there is nothing really bothering me? as in, how can i further my practice with spirits and witchcraft if i am not actively needing to do a spell?

What a great question! This is a problem that plagues many practitioners. Here's a few ideas in no particular order:

Take a break and do nothing. IMO, a vital part of growth in witchcraft is growth of the witch. Just by living life, you develop yourself and therefore your craft. Your witchcraft evolves at the exact same pace as you evolve. It is in lockstep with you; it is you, it comes from you. It is never separate from you.

So do literally anything - relax and steep yourself into a tea of nonaction, learn a new hobby, watch that Netflix series, go for a walk. Do anything, including nothing.

Learn a new creative hobby, by the way. A significant portion of my practice these days is making things. My beliefs advise that the act of physical creation is very powerful and a very good way to bind magic into our physical world.

Christmas is coming up and it's the perfect time to learn to crochet coasters, paint watercolor bookmarks, calligraphy for fancy cards, and so on. Knowing most of us, we probably have expensive and barely-used craft materials in the closet from last summer's hyperfixation! Pick something up again and learn to use it for small projects.

As you hobby away, ask yourself how the skill you're learning might translate to witchcraft.

When it's time to do magic again, you'll have extra tools in your toolbox. Hand-made bags for spell sachets, devotional artwork, stunning sigils: by learning a skill and meditating on its mystical uses, we unlock new doors in our path that may lead to mysterious and winding hallways of possibility.

You can also do drills. Whatever sort of magic you do, you can break it down to its composite parts and practice it. Suppose you like to do a lot of candle magic where you charge the candle. Well, practice that. Get a pack of 100 tea lights and practice charging each one. Fill it with a specific sort of energy. Come back the next day and fill it again. And again. Carve a symbol on top. Do you perceive that it is easier to charge the candle when a corresponding symbol has been carved into it? Put it away. How long does it stay charged for?

Learn a new method of charging. Maybe you like to do visualization + willpower charging. Now, try something new: charging through offerings. Charging through sacrifice. Charging through prayer. Compare the results to your original method. Is it less draining? More? Does it stay charged as long? Is the quality of energy different? What about when you carve a symbol and then pray over it, does that make a difference?

(the benefit of this is ending up with a hundred pre-charged candles ready for spellwork when the time comes)

Of course, you may work over substances specifically meant to be worked over ahead of time. Oils, waters, potions, and powders may be prepared ahead of time, especially at opportune astrological appointments, and accumulate a great deal of power before they're needed. Many traditional recipes call for an incense or oil to steep for months before it is used.

What kind of magic do you often end up doing? Are you regularly blessing, generating good luck, or drawing prosperity? Perhaps your practice would benefit from careful preparation of a blessing incense, worked over for a few months before it's put into use.

If you're in a creative mood, maybe there is some big project you've been putting off - building of spirit houses, making of fancy altar cloths, crafting of special ceremonial masks - that you could finally get started on.

Moving away from mundane creation, perhaps there's some magical skill you'd like to adopt. Astral travel, new methods of divination, new methodologies of spellwork, and so on. If there's truly nothing for you to cast on, learning about a system is better than not learning about a system. You'll still take away more than nothing.

A healthy period of self-examination may also serve. Try giving a name to your practice (something very cool and 90s, like Path of the Golden Crow) and writing a handbook for hypothetical novices who want to join this path. What are the foundational skills of your practice? What are your core beliefs? What spell or ritual formats must people be able to work if they want to be a Golden Crow?

Pouring energy back into spiritual relationships is always a good option. It's my experience that spirits don't like feeling like vending machines, and relationships may turn sour if we only show up when we need something from them. Spend a lot of time talking to the spirits. Ask them what you should be doing.

If your skills with spirit work are limited, actively practice psychism, divination, astral travel, or other methods of spirit contact.

Of course, you can also just do spellwork regardless. Why does something have to be bothering you before you cast on it? Wouldn't you like to get a pay raise, or have more ideal hours? Would you like your blog to have more followers? Would you like a very expensive tool or crafting supply on the cheap? Maybe you'd like to meet similarly-minded folks in your local area. The list goes on.

Now, I will say something to wrap this up: plateaus are good and necessary. There is a difference between a plateau and a rut. I started this list off with "literally do nothing" for a reason. Periods of rest are not periods of stagnation, and things are often going on behind the scenes without us realizing it.

A few years ago, a witch friend of mine said she felt she had plateaued and asked me for a reading on how to get to the "next level." The reading was very bizarre and recommended that she basically implode her own life by making horrible decisions.

"Judy," I said, "isn't it true that all your periods of growth in witchcraft have been because something horrible happened, and you had to adapt to survive?"

"Yes," she said.

"Then enjoy your plateau," I advised, "and don't try to get out of it."