#which is why all of these are very recent works

[centrally-unplanned]

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet. 

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.

[mantis-lizbian]

minor point, but i think i'd say the point isn't necessarily to "play a different game" but rather to be more honest with yourself about what a game's mechanics and themes are and aren't. you can defy those expectations still, but you're going to really struggle if you do so blindly, without taking into account how the game resists it.

to take it outside of the realm of D&D specifically, and use other games as a point of comparison, i recently ran a game in Masks: A New Generation set in the universe of Worm, a web novel by Wildbow.

Masks is a game about teenage superheroics and figueing out what kind of person you want to be. it has numerous mechanics and decision choices that work to highlight the tumultuous experience of being a teenager trying to find a sense of self and figure out how to deal with all the expectations and drives both within and without. around this central core, the mechanics regarding the superheroics are fairly "four-colour", that is. they're roughly on the level of your average late '90s to 2000s superhero cartoon like Teen Titans, Static Shock, the '90s Spider-Man TV series, or X-Men: Evolution. while these shows still have beating up bad guys and the occasional dark plotline, they don't really even come close to how dark the average shonen anime can get. vombat in Masks focuses more on emotional states than physical damage, and losing combat tends to mean letting the villain escape or fleeing yourself rather than even necessarily getting knocked out, let alone dying.

so using Masks to model the grim, often hyper-violent world of Worm is... tricky. when, in complete lieu of hit points, represents taking lumps in a fight by your character getting angry or hopeless, it takes a lot of work to model fights with characters who fight so viciously as to do things like... suffocate someone with a swarm of bugs, plant bombs inside people's necks, or just... being a giant nazi wolf made out of chains and blades. and that's not even mentioning the Slaughterhouse Nine which, uh... yeah, the people above? they're the average, everyday, street-level villains, so i'll just let you imagine what a gang of internationally recognized serial killers are like in this universe.

so yeah, very much a conflict between the rules system and the kind of game i wanted to run (and Worm very much isn't Worm without the extreme violence - i'd argue as a crucial part of its counterintuitively positive and optimistic thesis). but i saw a way in which Worm explored themes of identity and becoming that very much fit in with how Mask focuses on them, and so i chose to make it work anyway.

and it took a lot of effort, but i did manage to make it work without even rewriting or homebrewing any rules. the point is that you absolutely can tell a story that conflicts with the themes and mechanics of a game, but just like breaking rules of writing, you have to know and understand what you're doing with it and why in order to avoid simply highlighting that dissonance, or worse it actively disrupting things.

So there is a pretty clear shift in playstyle between TSR D&D and WotC D&D: for better and for worse, D&D 3e introduced the idea of encounter balance, de-emphasized mechanics that had previously encouraged the GM to think of the monsters as real living creatures (reaction rolls, morale, etc.), and it had the effect of making D&D a much more combat-focused game. D&D has always been a game that's opinionated about combat, it's basically the most expressive and detailed form of play regardless of edition, but combat in the TSR editions was not exactly zoomed in and tactical. The WotC editions purposefully made combat zoomed in, granular, and tactical.

And this has had an effect on playstyle: since combat is now the main form of player expression what players actually want is for their characters to get into combat. Because combat is the most fun part of the game. But the game has also changed from the largely amoral dungeon-crawling game into a game of fantasy heroics (even though a lot of the trappings of the amoral dungeon-crawling still remain, which contributes to the dissonance), so you can't just have the player characters going into combat for the sake of it. That would frame the player characters as kind of Fucked Up, and we can't have that in our supposedly heroic fantasy.

What you end up with is a variety of contrivances like "they're bandits," "they're cultists," or, my all-time favorite, "they attacked first" to make the action seem morally justifiable, even though gameplay is still motivated by a desire to fight. The monsters fight to the death and, importantly, can often not be reasoned and negotiated with, partly because combat is supposed to be the fun, engaging part everyone is here to do, but also because if they actually acted like reasonable people it could cause dissonance with the whole "the player characters are the goodest heroes."

As my friend @tenleaguesbeneath once called it: what is actually going on is that the player characters are hunting people and monsters who have been programmed to fight to the death and never negotiate for sport, while justifying it as self-defence.

It's a simple power fantasy, and I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Sometimes you want to play a morally uncomplicated game about killing guys with cool magic swords. But I think it's also fun to think about what the specific types of monsters players end up fighting reveals about Society the invisible, unexamined ideology lying under the surface that the designers of even modern D&D have failed to examine. And to me it often reads like a frontier justice fantasy. None of that is to detract from anyone's joy of the game, and for me it's just fun to think about and post about this stuff while Still Enjoying the Game, but if someone expressing that opinion makes you feel uncomfortable, why? That's pretty silly imo.

[sweetlady555]

Unlocking the hidden power of Mars 12H:

Hi everyone! I apologize for not having been uploading as much but I’m back and writing about Mars 12H because it's so powerful and I rarely EVER see anyone talking about it. As I’ve decided to step fully into my power starting November 2024, I’ve recently realized something powerful about my energy that completely changed my perspective, I will be using Kim Kardashian as my example as she is a Mars 12H native :$

What Is Mars in the 12H? 🤔

Mars represents drive, action and motivation. The 12H is the house of the subconscious, hidden things, spirituality, behind the scenes, hidden strengths, the spiritual realm. When these two energies combine, they create an energy that works below the surface often in ways we aren't fully conscious of. 👁️

One thing you should know is Mars 12H natives makes moves in silence they don't need outside noise or your projections! You'll see how it's done just watch, you don't know need to know how, why or when they're going to do it, but just know they've been multiple steps ahead of you. Its like this divine calling thats always in your ear telling you which move shall be next and its such a strong force that its like if you don’t take action itll make you feel so……… wrong its like a itch. Usually Mars 12H natives do take the action and it leads to blessings I like to call them. Mars 12H natives do not feel the need to force anything, when the thought and feeling comes you do that shit! Mars 12H natives are always mysteriously led to exactly where they need to be.. this is likely why they get their rep for being so mysterious & secretive! Its imporant as a Mars 12H native to listen to your gut and trust that everything will work out as planned, and this doesn’t go for just Mars 12H natives it goes for everyone!

Let's use Kim Kardashian as a famous example on how Mars 12H manifests for the natives, as a Mars in 12H native I feel like I can relate to her ambition and I can understand her doings.

Kim Kardashain always knew she was going to be a star, if you have seen her videos of her younger self she states, "and you're all going to remember me as this beautiful little girl" For both Kim and people with Mars 12th house, the confidence and determination to become a star or successful often comes from a deep subconscious belief in their destiny. Even if they don't know the "how" or the "when," they just FEEL compelled to take action towards their dreams, sometimes in ways that seem hidden or almost effortless to others. In Kim's case, she didn't just fall into success, she actively pursued it through her work, image crafting, and seizing opportunities. Even before she became widely known, she had an innate sense of how to position herself and build her brand. This is the Mars 12H signature, an internal drive that doesn't always need external validation or explanations to succeed. Many people accuse Kim of "destiny swapping" with Paris Hilton but let's be so fo real right now.. Destiny swapping doesn't exist, and I feel like people just can't believe Kim rose above Paris Hilton which seemed so effortlessly, but not enough people credit her for her hard work and perseverance. People have accused her for being a reptellian too 😭 ? because I guess its that hard to understand hard work, dedication and logic actually does pay off! Kim has a vision and she's still actively working hard for her vision behind the scenes, and if its one thing we all know its that Kim will chase her bag regardless!

My experience with Mars in the 12H :

Growing up, I always knew I was going to be something special, I knew I was gonna be influential (I have 10H placements so this might manifest differently) Last year, I had rose to fame very quickly online through my image and the amount of people who were confused af how I did it was flattering not gonna lie! I would hear people tell me things like “did you sell your soul?” or “whats the method?” or “you only got it because you had this and this” . I was always in my own bubble online posting what I feel destined to do no matter what my ego said. I thought with my soul a lot of times even if it was shocking, so honestly I could see how people would accuse me of “selling my soul” or having a certain method to my influential social media fame. There is a lot of pain & passion behind my doings and I logically plan everything out so it kind of flatters me honestly! To me this just shows how Mars 12H natives are skilled in making something out of themselves coming from being a underdog to becoming someone highly admired.

The Energy Of A 12H Mars Native :

Mars in the 12H natives can have this strong powerful magnetic effect on others without them even realizing it but others will feel this on a subconcious level. They truly have a lot of appeal! Its almost like this hidden power or secret magentism that draws people in which could attract a lot of admirers, monitoring spirits, actual spirits even! 😭 The truth is though, Mars 12H natives do really have this strong inner power within them, they tend to be very confident in themselves and this energy reflects on the outside even through the screen. They have this aura around them that can’t be ignored. Mars 12H natives will often be seen as untouchable or enigmatic, just like Kim she knew how to use this energy to use this subtle allure to captivate her audience.

People with Mars 12H have this sexual energy that is more felt, not seen! This can make their presence intoxicating as others may sense their sexual energy without knowing where it’s coming from. Its almost hypnotic! Its a deeply rooted emotional and spiritual sexual energy often rooted in the subconcious. With Kim, she knew how to use this energy in her brand being percieved as seductive, powerful and confident, but it wasnt just about her body — it was about the way she carried herself and commanded attention without saying much.

Despite being more subtle, Mars in the 12H gives the individual an almost unconcious control over their sexual energy. Theres an innate understanding of how to play on emotions and create attraction often with very little effort. This creates an energy that is simultaneously passive and powerful and you can’t deny or ignore it either. Almost like being in the background but still being the force everyone notices.

There is a lot of fantasy and imagination that takes place with Mars 12H natives and how theyre percieved, natives with this placement tend to make others fantasize about them not just by how they look but how they make people feel! Their energy creates a sense of longing, almost like a dream or a fantasy that others want to live in. Kim Kardashian has been able to tap into this fantasy energy by cultivating an image of perfect beauty and luxury, which keeps her in a fantasy world that fans want to be apart of. This fantasy element is key to her sexual appeal, as it makes her seem unreachable and unattainable.

Mars 12H natives, if they aren’t aware of their power makes them a target for insecure people and spirits in the physical and spiritual realm. People will often notice this energy before you even do and project the most they can and throw as much dirt as they can on you because they’re afraid of your power! Its highly advised you take the precautions and make sure you are being careful in who you’re telling your business to, what things you might be opening in the physical and spiritual realm, who you let into your space, who you’re doing business with all of it! Dont let them take advantage of you!

I also had read that Mars 12H often repress their emotions or their anger and although it is that in some cases, Mars 12H natives just tend to strategically move instead of acting out on anger or resentment in the moment to avoid unnecessary conflict and to stay in power and their own peace. Its a silent strength many Mars 12H natives have where you don’t have to scream or shout to prove yourself, you can strategically wait for the right moment, then act with precision. This ability to stay focused and composed on long term goals is what makes Mars 12H natives have this quiet power behind them. People might not realize that this anger comes from a calculated, startegic place, its not random but it could be percieved as out of nowhere. The 12H is often linked to subconcious energies, hidden feelings and things that are not visible to others, so when Mars 12H natives express their anger it can come off as intense, mysterious or even uncontrollable to those around you. People may not fully understand why you do the things you do or whats going on beneath the surface so this often leads to people labeling your anger more extreme.

The Spirtual Realm

Mars in the 12H natives are often deeply connected to the spiritual realm, but they experience it in a unique way. This placement can give them a natural sensitivity to invisible forces or energies like I mentioned earlier a divine force! Whether that may be intuition, sprits or subconcious currents that influence their actions. Mars in the 12H is often described as “Behind the scenes” or operating in the background, which makes these individuals especially attuned to the unseen world—the spiritual, emotional and psychological realm.

Mars, the planet of action, aggression and energy, in the 12h amplifies the natives ability to tap into intuitive and spiritual currents. This placement suggests that instead of being overly action-oriented in a physical way, Mars energy often works in more subtle and intuitive forms. For these individuals, the battle often happens internally-in the subconscious, in dreams, or in their connection to the spirit world.

Mars in the 12th house people often experience a sense of being guided by invisible forces, and they can be highly receptive to messages or signs from the spirit realm. This doesn't always mean they consciously hear or see spirits, but rather that they might feel guided by an internal voice or experience moments of divine timing that feel too precise to be mere coincidence. They may also experience heightened sensitivity to energy, such as a feeling of being watched, sudden shifts in mood or vivid dreams. Its not a common occurrence to hear ringing in your ears when you’re picking and feeling up on certain energies with these natives!

Since Mars 12H is a powerful subtle energy this makes spirits from the spiritual realm more attracted to them, Mars 12H natives are very assertive and felt by these spirits hence why certain spirits like to latch onto them. Its not common either to see spirits, see things move suddenly and even a spirit taking control over your body when you’re asleep. It sounds scary but don’t let this make you afraid, I once fell into this when I was around 8 or 9 when I was sleeping and a spirit had woken me up in the middle of the night and made me literally slam my face into my headboard that made the principal think I was getting hurt at home, i was always targeted by this spirit. I was the only one who could speak to it and make them do certain things like move toys and such. I didnt realize at the time I was connecting with aggresive spirits 😅 and not God. Its highly important for Mars 12H natives to strongly protect themselves when they are asleep because when you are asleep the veil between the spiritual realm and physical realm is very thin!

Mars 12H natives embody this spirtual warrior archetype, they can feel a calling to fight or stand up for spiritual causes or to protect others, but they do this in a way that is not outwardly visible to others. Mars 12H natives might actively avoid conflict when it comes to spiritual warfare or protecting their energy and their peace. They may also engage in energy work, spiritual practices, or rituals in private to protect themselves from unwanted spiritual influence. This is often done subtly or privately, as they don't always like to broadcast their spiritual strength. Their Mars energy in the 12th house can make them exceptionally good at clearing negative energy, transmuting it, and defending themselves from energetic or spiritual attacks, but they may prefer to do so behind the scenes, where others don't see it.

Mars in the 12th house natives may also experience periods of isolation or retreat, where they feel the need to withdraw from the physical world to connect with the unseen world. These moments of solitude allow them to recharge spiritually, process subconscious material, and connect with higher realms of consciousness. During these times, they may feel a deep connection with their higher self or with the spiritual beings guiding them.

When it comes to spiritual practices, these individuals are likely to have a natural talent for healing or working with energy, whether it's through prayer, meditation, crystals, or other metaphysical practices. Mars in the 12th house helps them channel life force energy in a quiet, powerful way, almost like a spiritual warrior operating in the background, quietly shifting energy around them.

Its important to watch out as a Mars 12H native what you are putting your energy into as these things will manifest almost immediately. When you decide to shift your attention to other IMPORTANT things you will often notice your energy was literally the foundation for whatever negative thing that was happening. So be Aware! You know how powerful your energy is.

This was a long post but as a Mars 12H native, I rarely see any accurate or in depth posts of Mars 12H individuals, I had to really dig into my experiences to understand this was Mars 12H influence all along.. In my opinion, Mars 12H natives deserve so much more respect for what they do because a lot of it goes unseen and for multiple reasons lol. I havent wrote in a while but I was getting a huge urge calling to post about this. If any mars 12h individuals relate to any of these experiences please let me know because I’d love to hear from you! and please be careful 💟 may god protect your divine energy, space and you ☮️

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/26

To lighten the daily read load but still ensure I get to everyone, i will be reading on 1 Riize member daily, and Seunghan every other day or just if something with him shifts significantly. I will do Riize collective reads every other day that I'm not doing a Seunghan Read. So today it is Seunghan + Sohee and then an SM read i found in my asks. Tmw it will be Riize collective + Any other member + something relevant to current topics or asks. Hope that makes sense.

Seunghan

Knight of Chalices + King of Wands + 6 of Wands

Honestly bro is just chilling right now...lowkey this is his card when he is at his most neutral/leaning positive state. Very charming very vibey. He seems to be cheeky lately. He is doing well. I asked about how he felt about Rolling Loud in Thailand, and he responded with the King right there. He's feeling very very high up about the ordeal. Rather than being the King, he sees Briize as the King, and him gathering his graces and motivation to push gorwards simply by watching. There are a lot of fond and just overall respectful and "in awe" emotions attached here. To the point where he may wonder if it is overbearing for others (cough OT6 cough) leading me to believe he may have seen their distainful reactions. Nonetheless it wasn't enough to erase his positive feelings on the matter. He really feels like he should bow down in gratitude lmfao.

When I had asked if he had contacted members recently i got the 6 of Wands, which is a yes signally a positive and celebratory? Chat. Therefore, it is probably around or on Taro's birthday they spoke.

One thing of note that I and maybe many have noticed is that Taro seems the most standoffish out of all the members regarding this entire situation from the start. This is true-ish deep down. I pulled another card to clarify the 6 of wands, which made everything I already knew click into place for me- but I accidentally reshuffled it in my deck and I do not remember exactly what card it was- but I know it fully cleared this up for me so I will share the explaination I came to here:

Taro doesn't really know how to deal with negative situations. At all. He acts as if they do not exist unless he must face them. He is not good with them. He will spiral out of control and doesn't know how to work through those things properly, so he believes the most mature thing is to not engage to begin with. Therefore, it was very awkward for him to try and contact Seunghan directly. He does not know what to say. He has been avoiding it even if he also believes he was wronged and is still OT7. He is the most awkward member about this. I do believe that Seunghan mayhaps reached out during his birthday, and this relationship is starting to mend again. Wanted to share bc this makes me sad and happy.

Sohee

The World + 6 of Chalices + 2 of Pentacles

Sohee is generally feeling really good, maybe like something has been completed to an extent sucessfully. I think, tbh that he is glad to be home lmfao, but he really enjoyed the adventure. That sort of feeling. Since people were asking, I decided to ask if he had really smiled and nodded at the Riize is 7 banners at Rolling Loud, to which I pulled 6 of Chalices. This is a yes, it made him think of some other memories- so since that is the case I really think he may be referring to Madrid, which is funny bc Briize were saying he was grinning just like he did back then!

I then asked him how he thought things were progressing for Seunghan's return, to which I got 2 of Pentacles. Things are still being prepared and there's not a clear answer at the moment. This question led me into the next few things we will discuss regarding SM.

SM

Knight of Pentacles + 8 of Swords + Knight of Wands + Queen of Wands

Generally, there is a lot of turmoil here. Careful planning and preparation, but its almost like one team is like "let's do this now, this is stupid and we need to act now" and the other is like "why do we have to do that? I don't wanna". One side wants to do as they have always done, and the other side is younger and more open-minded, wanting to avoid disaster due to refusal to adapt. The older side sees this as reckless, the younger side sees the older as lazy and slow. It is very tough, and they are at odds. I will come back to this energy a bit later.

8 of Wands + 2 of Chalices + 10 of Wands

Someone asked if SM was making a decision regarding Seunghan this week. Pulled 8 of Wands and 2 of Chalices. Yes?? I think they 100% have the intention to do so. But with the 10 of wands as the outcome I think that whatever outcome it is it will be while before it is released, and whatever it is will be due to a lot of pressure being put on SM. So I advise that OT7 really make sure to keep laying it on as thick as possible as this will affect the outcome.

Bottom of Deck:

8 of Chalices + 5 of Wands

The theme here is still a lot of conflict. One side will need to grow mature enough to give up their stance. Whoever gives in first wins.

Final Notes:

Mainly, what I wanna speak on is the energy SM is feeling right now. I made a transit reading when Pluto went into Aquarius that discussed what tf is going on with SM lately and what will be going on for the next few years. I will link it HERE (for twt users, i will link in the twt)

Other than that, again, keep spreading the truth and laying on the pressure here. We are approaching a kind of finale situation rather soon. Or at least some news regarding such. Note that even if we win, we may not KNOW right away. We may not know 100% until closer to a CB. I hope not, but it's certainly possible. So please keep doing what you're doing, and do not give in!!

[lousycapy]

How statistics can easily be manipulated to fit a certain agenda in Formula 1

Hello! I’ve seen a lot of f1 fans or media sources bring up statistics incorrectly to prove their points recently, which is really getting on my nerves. So here is a comprehensive guide, with examples, of how statistics work and why they are not the be-all and end-all some people might think them to be. This is a pretty long post, so the explanations are all below the cut. With that, I hope you find this useful!

Multiple factors come into play when analyzing a statistic, so I’ve separated them in different categories: what data set is used to make the stat, how the stat can be interpreted and how being factually correct doesn’t equate a valid argument :

THE DATA SET

To make a statistic, you first need values which correspond to a data set. What said data set is made of is very relevant to the exactitude of the stat and how much regard should be given to it.

For example, to determine the average lap times of a driver over a stint you would need to divide the sum of all lap times by the number of laps executed. Which means that theoretically you could use a single lap as an average, e.g. 1:57:325/1 which gives an average lap time of 1:57:325s.

However, as you might imagine this stat is not representative of a driver’s stint, since the lap chosen to be analyzed could very well be an outlier. That’s why sample sizes matter, the more values make up your data set, the more representative of reality the result obtained is.

It is also important to know what the data set consists of. Let’s reuse our average lap times of a driver over a stint example, are outlaps/inlaps included? Is it based on clean air, dirty air? Are there laps excluded due to driver mistakes (e.g. going off track)? A stat being presented without any explanation of how it was calculated is absolutely worthless.

Finally, comprehension of the data set is very valuable as well.

Let’s imagine this fictional scenario where Ferrari makes Charles and Carlos compare average lap times. They both use the same car, on the same track, on the same tires, at the same time, for a stint of a total of 10 laps. Both drivers average a lap time of 80.125s over their whole stint, so is the conclusion that they have both done the exact same thing accurate? No!

Despite having the same average lap times in this scenario, the data set suggests a different conclusion, and different trends. Considering stints in a race are going to be longer than 10 laps, it can be assumed that Charles would average better lap times thanks to his consistency compared to Carlos, who would get worse lap times as time passes as can be observed thanks to the trend line in his graph.

2. INTERPRETATION OF THE DATA

Now that we can recognize the importance of the data set and its constituents, it is time to understand how the data provided can be used to make a statistic.

More than one answer can be correct based on the same sample of data. Despite using the same set, depending on how the data is used it can lead to different statistics that drive different arguments both being factually correct.

For example, I’d like to refer to the wonderful basspro24chevy World’s Destructor Chamionship from Brazil 24 on Reddit in an effort of determining who is the most destructive driver. Here is a chart I’ve made which also includes number of races each driver took part in (Ollie not included I was too lazy to recalculate how it affects the drivers he’s replaced’s damage bill) and the average cost of damage per race of each driver.

Based on these statistics, both arguments could be made to justify either Checo being the most destructive driver, since he’s the one who’s cost his team the most damage over the whole season, or Franco, since he’s the one who on average costs the most for his team per weekend.

Depending on someone’s biases, they could make some drivers look better than others despite using the same data set as another person, and depending on how their argument is justified even if they end up with a different conclusion it doesn’t mean they aren’t right as well.

3. FACTUALLY CORRECT ≠ VALID ARGUMENT

Even if you are factually correct with your statistic’s interpretation, and it is based on an acceptable data set, it doesn’t mean it has a direct link of causality with your argument and provides validation to the point you are trying to make.

For example, someone could argue that Checo is a safer pair of hands in races than Pierre, because over the course of the 2024 season he has DNFed 2 out of 21 races, meanwhile Pierre has DNFed 3 out of 21 races. However, the point being argued here is which driver is a safer pair of hands, and other variables than the drivers come into play when discussing those two’s DNFs.

Indeed, Checo drives a RedBull with a Honda engine, whilst Pierre drives an Alpine with a Renault engine. Out of Checo’s 2 DNFs, 2 were caused by driver mistakes. Out of Pierre’s 3 DNFs, 3 were caused by engine issues. The World’s Destructor Championship can also be used as a counterpoint to Checo being a safer pair of hands than Pierre by comparing damage bills.

Thus, instead of the conclusion being that Checo is a safer pair of hands than Pierre, the DNFs statistic is more appropriate to conclude that the Honda engine is more reliable than the Renault engine.

Which means that to make a valid argument, you need to be able to explain why the statistic presented is relevant and what it suggests. Alleviating circonstances also need to be taken into account to solidify the point being made.

For example, let’s imagine a scenario where Fernando is 1.235s off Lance during a qualifying run. To use this stat in an argument, you need to be able to justify why he was so far off. Was it genuine pace? Did he make a mistake which ruined the lap? Were they on the same tires? Was it track evolution? Are they on the same setup? Did Fernando come across traffic? Did Lance get a significant tow?

Contextualization matters twice as much as the actual statistic being presented, because the statistic without context can easily be manipulated in a way to drive a certain agenda.

4. CONCLUSION

All in all, what I’m trying to say is that even maths can be used to drive agendas. Statistics can not be taken at face value, because there are multiple factors that can influence their relevance. I hope you found this little guide helpful, and that it will help you analyze better the information you see online on how drivers are performing (or argue better with crazed fans, you do you 🫡)

Thanks for reading and have a good day!

[mariacallous]

Next year will be Big Tech’s finale. Critique of Big Tech is now common sense, voiced by a motley spectrum that unites opposing political parties, mainstream pundits, and even tech titans such as the VC powerhouse Y Combinator, which is singing in harmony with giants like a16z in proclaiming fealty to “little tech” against the centralized power of incumbents.

Why the fall from grace? One reason is that the collateral consequences of the current Big Tech business model are too obvious to ignore. The list is old hat by now: centralization, surveillance, information control. It goes on, and it’s not hypothetical. Concentrating such vast power in a few hands does not lead to good things. No, it leads to things like the CrowdStrike outage of mid-2024, when corner-cutting by Microsoft led to critical infrastructure—from hospitals to banks to traffic systems—failing globally for an extended period.

Another reason Big Tech is set to falter in 2025 is that the frothy AI market, on which Big Tech bet big, is beginning to lose its fizz. Major money, like Goldman Sachs and Sequoia Capital, is worried. They went public recently with their concerns about the disconnect between the billions required to create and use large-scale AI, and the weak market fit and tepid returns where the rubber meets the AI business-model road.

It doesn’t help that the public and regulators are waking up to AI’s reliance on, and generation of, sensitive data at a time when the appetite for privacy has never been higher—as evidenced, for one, by Signal’s persistent user growth. AI, on the other hand, generally erodes privacy. We saw this in June when Microsoft announced Recall, a product that would, I kid you not, screenshot everything you do on your device so an AI system could give you “perfect memory” of what you were doing on your computer (Doomscrolling? Porn-watching?). The system required the capture of those sensitive images—which would not exist otherwise—in order to work.

Happily, these factors aren’t just liquefying the ground below Big Tech’s dominance. They’re also powering bold visions for alternatives that stop tinkering at the edges of the monopoly tech paradigm, and work to design and build actually democratic, independent, open, and transparent tech. Imagine!

For example, initiatives in Europe are exploring independent core tech infrastructure, with convenings of open source developers, scholars of governance, and experts on the political economy of the tech industry.

And just as the money people are joining in critique, they’re also exploring investments in new paradigms. A crop of tech investors are developing models of funding for mission alignment, focusing on tech that rejects surveillance, social control, and all the bullshit. One exciting model I’ve been discussing with some of these investors would combine traditional VC incentives (fund that one unicorn > scale > acquisition > get rich) with a commitment to resource tech’s open, nonprofit critical infrastructure with a percent of their fund. Not as investment, but as a contribution to maintaining the bedrock on which a healthy tech ecosystem can exist (and maybe get them and their limited partners a tax break).

Such support could—and I believe should—be supplemented by state capital. The amount of money needed is simply too vast if we’re going to do this properly. To give an example closer to home, developing and maintaining Signal costs around $50 million a year, which is very lean for tech. Projects such as the Sovereign Tech Fund in Germany point a path forward—they are a vehicle to distribute state funds to core open source infrastructures, but they are governed wholly independently, and create a buffer between the efforts they fund and the state.

Just as composting makes nutrients from necrosis, in 2025, Big Tech’s end will be the beginning of a new and vibrant ecosystem. The smart, actually cool, genuinely interested people will once again have their moment, getting the resources and clearance to design and (re)build a tech ecosystem that is actually innovative and built for benefit, not just profit and control. MAY IT BE EVER THUS!

[thebreakfastgenie]

The social and cultural sacrifices were enough to have continued ruining my life five years later, but I'm glad to know I needed to materially sacrifice myself too, to be a really virtuous person. And I didn't even order delivery!

Suffering is not a virtue. I'm not Catholic. I'm sorry you're struggling so much. You're not the only one. It's hard! It's harder because we haven't been able to go through this together as a people.

I mentioned the social and cultural sacrifices because I think they're significant and should be taken seriously. Too often they're not, honestly. A lot of people suffered and are still struggling. That is a very real consequence of the pandemic and I wish we could talk about that without getting bogged down in arguments about whether lockdowns were a good idea because half this country still thinks the other half was just being dramatic. I'm speaking from an American perspective because I'm American and my post was about America and the effects of the pandemic on specifically American society. I do not mean to ignore that COVID is a global issue.

I wasn't calling anyone virtuous or not. When I talked about material sacrifices, I was thinking about WWII rationing. It was sold to the public as virtue by the propaganda, Do Your Part For The War Effort, but the reality was that there was simply not enough material to continue supplying civilians with what they were used to having available during peacetime and wage the war. If we could have avoided those sacrifices we would have. In 2020, the nature of the crisis as well as the sheer wealth of the United States, meant that material sacrifices were very limited, which made it possible for some people to have a fairly sheltered and privileged experience of the pandemic. It's a good thing, for Americans anyway, that we were able to get through COVID with minimal material sacrifices! I just think it contributed to the collective amnesia about the recent crisis we weathered.

Of course, in order to maintain the supply chain, a lot of people have to continue working under harrowing conditions. That's why they were called essential workers. A lot of Americans are fairly willfully oblivious to how much they benefitted from this labor. These are the people who post about how much they miss staying home and baking bread all day. I've been commenting on this because I think there is a connection between this phenomenon and voting patterns in 2024.

There's also nothing inherently wrong with ordering delivery. My issue is with the very recent expectation of cheap, frequent delivery. You can press a button on your phone and have a hot meal of your choice arrive at your door within an hour. That's a science fiction concept. It simply doesn't exist at low prices without an underpaid labor force and that labor force is wholly invisible to a lot of people. The role of the pandemic in this is that the pandemic helped normalize that expectation because we were dependent on delivery and curbside pickup, not just for restaurant meals but even for essentials. We were also encouraged to order delivery from restaurants as an alternative to eating out, partly because people were throwing a fit about it, partly to encourage some level of social interaction and joy under stressful conditions, and partly to help small businesses stay open. I'm not even morally judging people for spending too much money on delivery, your budgeting decisions are yours, as long as they're honest and clear-eyed about it. It's the entitlement that's the problem because cheap delivery doesn't exist without underpaid labor. And also because people are mad about prices being high and willing to vote for fascists about it.

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

I’ve seen people talking about the season 2 spoilers and I think the one thing that irks me the most are the people talking about Edwin being a “party gay.”

I mean no offence to the people who genuinely take to that interpretation of his character, but I just can’t get behind it.

So much queer culture is built around parties, and bars, and clubs, and performances (drag or no) - events with crowded spaces with lots of people and noise and lights. I get why it’s that way, but it makes connecting with other queer people more difficult for those of us who can’t, or won’t, participate in these functions.

Would I have liked to see Edwin, as someone just recently coming to terms with himself, explore these spaces? Absolutely. Would I have liked to see him immediately fit into them? Hell no.

He is still partially caught up in the etiquette of his time. He spent seventy years in Hell, and from what we’ve seen of it, it’s overcrowded and overwhelming. He still struggles with touching Crystal, even though he loves her. I think a big event with lots of people could easily trigger his experiences with Hell, or be very off-putting at the very least. I’d like to see him come to terms with that, and the fact that a lot of queer events are too much for him. I’d like to see that disconnect from the community, and how he struggles to accept that it’s just not his scene, because, as a queer person, it’s almost expected to be his scene. At the end, I’d like for him to find other queer spaces he can be himself in. Maybe he finds connection to the past in a queer museum, maybe a love interest (though I don’t really care about him getting a love interest besides Charles, I know some people do) in a queer bookshop he frequents, maybe it’s not even a queer space at all, but he finds people who he feels seen by, and develops quiet relationships with, where there’s no pressure to perform surrounded by alcohol and lights and loud noises.

Maybe, by the end, he slowly works his way up to gay bars and drag shows and genuinely enjoys them. First, though, I’d like to see a bit of struggle, and acknowledgments that the “party gay” side of the community isn’t for everyone.

Anyway, this might just be me projecting onto a character I like too much, but I think it would be nice to see an experience like that reflected onto DBDA, which has done so well with exploring queer themes already.

.

[vesseloflukola]

Let’s talk about “Professional Jealousy”, shall we? I feel like most of us know what this actually means. Actual Professional Jealousy is envy that someone else in your profession is doing better at the job than you; that they are more successful or more recognized. However, Nic and Luke tried to convince us that Professional Jealousy was something different altogether. To them, “Professional Jealousy” was when you become jealous any time your scene partner flirts with, talks to, or has an intimate scene with another actor of the opposite sex who is not yourself.

They were actually just plain jealous of one another. I think it was both apparent to the people they worked with, as well as those of us who listened to their answers in interviews on the World Tour.

I mean, why else would all of the other couples dancing around Nic and Sam (Pen and Debling) be pulled out one by one until only Nic and Sam were dancing together so that they could get such a great jealous reaction from Luke as Colin when he sees his Pen and Lord Debling dancing? Luke actually said “ I have to clarify. I WAS fuming. That was completely legit.” Sir? That was the statement he made where Nicola felt the need to tell the fandom about their “Professional Jealousy” in the first place.

Luke continued to show us how jealous he was whenever Nicola would make a flirty remark toward a male interviewer, or talk about her attraction to either Ryan Gosling or Leonardo DiCaprio. He also really didn’t seem to like her looking deep into Luke Thompson’s eye’s when there were questions over what color they were.

Luke isn’t the only jealous one though. Nic admitted she did not like him flirting with all the ladies in the Ton, and she did not love that he had those brothel scenes. She admitted to already being jealous of his next leading lady (which we now know is Lucy Hale) and reminded him that SHE was his “first fake girlfriend”.

It’s funny, because last time I checked, friends don’t get that kind of jealous of one another. However, people who have deeper feelings do. It’s ironic to me how many people have been trying to say Nic and Luke are “just friends”. They have never once said those words.

Luke has called Nic a lovely friend and his Best Friend. Nic has said that Luke is a very special person in her life and she doesn’t have a relationship with anyone else in her life like the one she has with him. Most recently Nic mentioned that a lot of people would like the two of them to get married. What they have never said is “we are just friends”, “please stop shipping us”, or “why would we get married?”. What they have done is give us crumbs here and there. What they have done is continue to mention or reference one another.

We don’t know for sure that they are currently together, but I believe that they are. What we do know is that the pictures we have seen of them lately, they are both glowing. What we do know is that they are back to filming Season 4 with their Bridgerton family. Coincidence? I don’t think so!

[howlsofbloodhounds]

ok so I must ask as I am still very confused but how does Killers stages effect Killer sans?

They’re levels of dissociation/dissociative states tied to his codes/programming, cued by certain external or internal triggers—which are connected to his SOUL. It was described as a war between two souls, Sans’ monster soul and the Determination soul—and Sans’ soul is fighting back.

This is why Killer doesn’t have to rely on Nightmare to go into Stage 2–the target shape—but Nightmare can use it to force certain behaviors, emotions (or lack thereof), and views from Killer.

Killer is canonically implied to have some type of dissociative disorder. It’s just never said which one—i personally tend to go with the idea that it’s OSDD-2 (not OSDD1-B) or UDD (Unspecified Dissociative Disorder). But it’s up to you what you personally want to do with them.

Now we unfortunately don’t get a lot of canon information on Stages 3 and 4, or if we did they’re deleted, but we do know that these states are almost completely weaponized.

Stage 3 seems to almost solely focused on immediate survival—even if that means behaving extremely violently against whoever or whatever moves or comes too close—and Stage 4 is locked in on a purpose—killing, upholding the Deal, very likely out of an animalistic fear of what could happen if it doesn’t.

Even if no one else notices this fear, and it just seems like Killer is mindlessly killing—because Killer hasn’t been shown ever once speaking in Stage 4. So no one is likely to understand what it is doing, and Killer himself doesn’t really seem to know—often disoriented and confused when he comes out of Stage 4.

Killer is in a very heavily dissociated, dehumanized state when he’s like that—a danger to himself and others, as opposed to only being a danger to others in Stage 3.

You can work on whatever interpretation you want.

If you want some more stuff on the Stages, because I have yapped about them (hcs, interpretations) and reblogged stuff about them, a lot more: you can look up the tag #killer sans stages.

If you want a specific Stage, you can look up the tags #stage 1!killer, #stage 2!killer, #stage 3!killer, and #stage 4!killer on my blog.

Do keep in mind that all the tags were recent additions on my blog, as I’ve been posting about and talking about them for awhile, so a lot of posts won’t be found under these tags. They’re most likely to be found further down on my blog in the #killer sans and #utmv headcanons tag.

[glass--beach]

Thoughts on Jeff Rosenstock? (Also I'm so happy to hear he came out as enby!)

i heard about that! that’s cool

uh, bomb the music industry, the arrogant sons of bitches, & jeff’s solo work were all really important to me when i first started writing music and i feel the influence on casio dad and glass beach is completely obvious. there are a TON of other artists i like that i discovered through his netlabel quote unquote records as well, probably the most significant being the brave little abacus. i still think the absolute peak of his career was Vacation, with Worry and We Cool in second and third place. that has a lot to do with the time in my life that those records came out though, it was right when i was properly entering adulthood and those records all spoke to some very 20-something concerns.

i like his more recent records but tbh i feel that since Worry he’s basically been making the same album over and over. he’s clearly refined his craft a lot and i get why people would say Hellmode or No Dream is his best but i don’t think a jeff rosenstock record can hit like it did when i was 20 anymore and i really miss the wild experimentation of btmi, though a lot of those older records were undeniably less consistent than his more recent ones. i have always got the sense that he is doing what he wants to do though and he has consistently delivered quality songwriting with real substance that’s all very fun to listen to

i DO wanna say one thing though and i’m not trying to start controversy but i am bummed that he has continued to work with the very same merch company that i cut ties with last year for union busting, and am further disappointed that he has defended his relationship with them! he’s always spoken to this very working class perspective which is a large part of why i like him so it’s strange to see this disregard for the working people helping him earn his living. i’ve visited their factory, those people work their asses off, and i was proud to be involved with them back when they were unionized. please please please don’t start shit with him on my behalf though, i only point this out because i have immense respect for him & hope he’ll realize soon enough why this matters. no need for attacks. he’s not a bad guy at all.

anyway. very very important artist to me. could probably go off for a while about any particular one of his albums but that’s the general gist. oh yeah also I Look Like Shit is underrated, it’s a mixed bag as a whole but Twinkle and his cover of I Don’t Wanna Die are among his best songs. Twinkle is probably the one that most influenced glass beach too

[yumeka-sxf]

Spy x Family merch updates and manga hiatus

I wanted to post about some recent fandom news, starting with the good news: while I mentioned in my 2-year anniversary post that we've been in a dry spell lately as far as SxF content, we just recently got a bunch of new merch/designs! (mostly from various Jump Festa vendors) I'll start with my favorite of the new designs, from HMV's Jump Festa set - Forgers in winter outfits ❤️

Next is the "French casual" set from Chara-Ani~ Bond's little red beret looks so cute!

Another winter outfit set, from Animate. Gah, this one's so adorable, too 😭

Next is merch from Ichiban Kuji. Not sure if it's for Jump Festa as well, but either way, I want the acrylics and the plate!

And lastly, Ensky's merch for Jump Festa - Forgers baking cakes/cookies!

Again for those who don't know, Jump Festa is a yearly event held in Japan in late December that's dedicated to Shonen Jump IPs. SxF will have its own panel with the four Forger voice actors in attendance. We've always gotten exclusive announcements and content at past Jump Festas, so fingers crossed it will be the same for this year! I'm gonna try my best to get some of this merch when it goes on sale in late December. And of course, if I'm able to make high quality scans of these new designs, I will post those as well!

Now onto the bad news, which most of you probably heard about already: the hiatus for the SxF manga has been extended to December 23rd. I believe this is the longest hiatus the series has had so far, and what makes this one concerning is not only that the date kept changing, but also the noticeable silence from Endo and other official outlets.

In the Japanese version of the manga, the last page of each new chapter typically notes the date the next chapter will come out. In the case of the most recent chapter, 107, it said it would release on November 25th, meaning Endo would be taking a break from the bi-monthly schedule, which isn't uncommon. But then, just a few days before the 25th, official English manga outlets like MangaPlus updated the release date to December 9th. It was disappointing since we had all been waiting longer than usual for the new chapter, but again, a second postponement wasn't too alarming...what was alarming though, was the third one that came just yesterday, only a few days after the last. People started noticing that official manga outlets had, again, changed the date for the next chapter to December 23rd this time.

The fandom got stirred up quite a bit when this happened, mostly out of concern for Endo's well being. What made me particularly worried was the fact that, while these hiatuses had been going on for the past month, Endo hadn't posted anything on his Twitter account, which is very unusual considering every month prior he's posted at least a few unique illustrations. Not only that, but the last thing he posted was this oddly cryptic image on October 19th, with text that says "Don't look for me." And he then deleted it soon after, which makes it even stranger.

But thankfully, Shonen Jump must have noticed the pandemonium happening in the fandom, because just a couple hours later, they made this statement on the official Jump+ Twitter, apologizing for the delay and confirming that chapter 108 will indeed come out on December 23rd.

This to me was good news, since their official statement about it makes it unlikely they'll change the date yet again. But some sort of explanation would have been nice, even a vague one. I'm not someone to spread rumors, but my own personal speculation (which could be totally wrong) is that there was some dispute between Endo and Jump. This is the only explanation I can think of as to why his Twitter would suddenly be barren for a month after he posted consistently for so long - my guess is that he has to get approval from Jump for all the illustrations he posts there. I don't know much about the inner workings of the manga industry, but I would assume he has some contractual obligations where he can't freely post stuff on social media without some sort of publisher's approval. It is possible he's just been too busy with Jump Festa and other things, but he's still posted at least a couple times a month even when he's sick or busy, so I don't think that's the main reason. Again, this is just my speculation that could be completely wrong. There's also the fact that they so quickly changed the release date to the 23rd, the day right after Jump Festa ends, which could indicate that Endo's been busy cooking something big to be announced there. Regardless, I'm happy we finally have a new chapter release date that's pretty set in stone now, though I won't feel totally better until we get clear acknowledgment that Endo is okay, either from himself on his own Twitter or somewhere else official.

Anyway, despite this setback, I'm relieved that SxF is still going strong with all the hype for Jump Festa and season 3. Between that and the new chapter right after, we'll be eating good this Christmas!

[homestuckreplay]

psychoanalyzing rose’s mother (because rose won’t do it)

(page 903-910)

The Skaianet Laboratory Unestablishment countdown ticks from 1:43 down to 1:34. I see those 413s being snuck in. I am genuinely at a point where if I see a number that isn’t 413 I get suspicious.

I love Rose so so much. And I love that she’s into psychoanalysis (kind of). But her saying ‘this incongruous thing? I pretend I do not see it’ is just like her saying there is ‘nothing to psychoanalyze’ about her mother’s love of wizards (p.360). She’s going in with preconceived expectations and not willing to interrogate the unexpected.

Like. Let’s look at the facts. In this massive, empty lab with thousands of twinkling boxes and no people, somebody has left a pink plastic table and chairs, a tea set, a scarf, a pink and white bed with cat, flower, heart and paw print designs, a princess themed dresser, cat stuffed toys, and WIZARD DOLLS. Pretty pink masters of the arcane with their long beards and pointy hats. Kind of a giveaway as to which local wizard-loving woman might own all this.

Rose’s mom has brought all this down to the lab, where she either works or just spends time. And she’s probably lonely down here and trying to recapture a childhood, whether that’s her own or Rose’s. We know from the pretty princess doll (p.363) that Mom likes to buy traditionally girly gifts for Rose, so this could even be old toys of Rose’s that she doesn’t even remember, her mom still playing with them to remind her of when she used to play with Rose. If Mom works here, then she’s up at this meteor terminal thinking about how one day, her daughter and anyone else they both care about are both going to be in danger from this upcoming apocalypse. And maybe she wants to hold on to the time she’s had with Rose before everything changes, or maybe she wishes she could be the one being taken care of, miles from the nearest town and with no partner or other family at home. She’s looking for comfort, she may well want to escape her own daughter’s judgment, and ultimately she has to parent herself as much as Rose does.

All this very important content is immediately overshadowed by the tiny kitten. There is a kitten hiding in the teapot. A TEAPOT SIZED KITTEN. I thought I was over this but I am not. A SMALL KITTEN!

Page 909 is composed similarly to Jade’s furry thoughts on page 797, but with the opposite emotion behind it. But clowns is clowns, and I don’t think John is scared of finding a bunch of regular ass harlequins like Dad might keep downstairs. That also wouldn’t explain why John’s always been kept from going in Dad’s room (and I could be wrong but it seems uncommon to not even know what’s inside a parent’s room). I think John is scared that his dad has a different secret. Based on the contents of Dad’s safe (p.544) I wonder if Dad is an amateur investigator who’s been looking into some of the strange phenomena associated with Skaia. Maybe John is about to encounter red-string cork boards and more tidbits about meteors, and find out that his dad is way more involved in current events than previously thought.

In page titles, ‘ascend’ first appears on page 660 and ‘descend’ not until page 840 (though the word is used in passing on both page 358 and 361). ‘Ascend’ also appears on page 759 in Nanna’s prophecy, where she states that ‘together [the Heir, Seer, Knight and Witch] will Ascend’. On page 909 the narrator treats ‘descend’ as an expectation, but it’s a fairly recent one. It’s one of my favorite things about serial fiction to see these tidbits of patterns and lore be dropped in and then woven through the narrative as if they’ve always been crucial, until it’s impossible to divorce the two. But it’s still possible to see that Homestuck characters weren’t ascending on day one.

> John: Examine room.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #63 – Saga, Book 1 by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples

I first starting reading Saga a literal decade ago (I think literally because Rachel Maddow recommended it on a podcast? Which, god, what a 2010s sort of sentence). I absolutely loved it at the time, and read intermittently until it went on an extended hiatus. So extended, in fact, that I’d kind of assumed the series was dead and only learned it had restarted a couple years ago quite recently. So, seeing as I am now in need of a new comic, I figured I’d restart from scratch and work up to the new stuff. It holds up! (and the letters to the editor are a fascinating cultural time capsule).

The series follows Alana and Marko – star-crossed lovers who eloped together from opposite sides of a brutal and galaxy-spanning race-war – and their newborn daughter Hazel as they evade the numerous forces trying to see them all murdered before than can become an embarrassment. The first arcs of this are most one long blind panic finding transport off-world and only afterwards deciding upon a destination, it’s only in the last volume (with the pointed assistance of Marko’s parents) that there’s any thought of finding stability or a status quo. Along the way, both the family and the series collect a wider and wider circle of colourful hangers-on – and the narrative begins switching focus to give real narrative focus and character arcs to three different groups that find themselves tracking down the family. None of them are particularly happy lives, but they all make for very compelling drama.

The best way to describe this is I suppose a ‘science-fantasy dramedy’. Which sounds viscerally and violently wrong, but the comedy and the drama are both absolutely vital motors keeping it running. And this is the incredibly rare work that actually makes them work together seamlessly. It’s an incredibly vulgar book in a dozen different ways, but the characters are all plausible and compelling, and once you have granted the slightly contrived explanation for why both governments care so immensely about Marko and Alana the plot coheres enough to never take you out of the story. Which is helped by the pacing being fast and tight in a way that always kept me (at least) engaged. I do deduct points for the wise author character basically looking directly at the fourth wall and saying ‘and the profound message of my work is-’ (moreso because said message is truly eye-roll-inducingly vapid and dumb, granted), but that’s easily forgiven.

The comedy was...more hit-or-miss. There is a lot of clever wordplay and funny, high-context character beats. There are also a bunch of just absurd or striking visual gags or background details that really work. And then there is the giant with balls so big and hideous that they almost crush someone to death.

It’s been said (by people with far more knowledge of and investment in the medium than I) that mainstream American comics are these incredible wells of repressed sexuality – full of physically implausible women dressed for a burlesque and with panels framed by a particularly sleazy tabloid photographer, but oddly coy about actually talking about or including sex itself. Which tracks with my limited experiences, but might just be bullshit I don’t know – what I do know is that Saga is basically the exact opposite of that.

Which is to say, this is an intensely sexual comic, but an atypically non-sexualized one. Which is a bit of an odd distinction, but compare how Saga shows an uncensored orgy and how any given artist at a con draws prints of Power Girl and you’ll get the idea. This is on balance a very good thing, occasional junior-high-level visual gags and gross-out humour aside. Sex is a part of life, of varying importance to different people but something present and shaping the world regardless (and Marko and Alana very much do believably seem like a couple that’d have a kid together without a huge excess of planning beforehand).

Aside from Alana, Marko and Hazel (and hangers-on including a phantom babysitter and Marko’s somewhat-approving parents), the various groups hunting them get a really surprising amount of page-count – The Will, Lying Cat and Prince Robot are all basically main characters in their own right, and Gwendolyn, Sophie, Upsher and Doff aren’t fair off. It’s an immense accomplishment that a series of 28-30 page comics manages to bounce between so many characters and always keep them all moving, both physically and emotionally. (The character work and character design of this is worth at least the price of admission on its own, really).

The thing that most makes me love the comic is, I think, how it will introduce characters and tell you explicitly they are murderers and monsters – and then show them struggling and risking their life out of guilt or altruism or love, show them falling for people and being part of rich social worlds, show the trauma and baggage and shitty relationships that made them who they are. Make you care about them and root for them, want them to accomplish what they need to to get a happy ending – and then have them destroy something or kill someone else you’ve grown to care about. Aside from the really obvious stuff about intolerance and war, it’s one of the most consistent themes of the series that monsters have lives and loves too, which is frankly something I wish more stories (and just, people) took to heart.

The setting is glorious, in a ‘mural on the side of a stoner van’ sort of way. Laser guns and spaceships that are giant flying trees, a kingdom of robots with TVs for heads and the planet-sized egg of what’s basically a living black hole – nothing that’s designed to bear scrutiny, but endlessly inventive and evocative and clearly very fun for the artist.

The most striking thing is that – even for now, let alone fucking 2012 – the comic is just incredibly diverse. Even leaving aside the really weird or cartoonishy exaggerated species there’s more diversity in body type and silhouette in one crowd scene of Saga than in most Hollywood movies I’ve seen recently. Same with race and sexuality—the whole setting seeming functionally queernorm except for the one couple whose character arc requires that they come from Planet Homophobia is slightly eyeroll inducing but again, compared to the early 2010s norm it’s soaring so high above the bar you can’t even see the ground.

So yeah, have fallen entirely back in love with it. Can’t wait to start in on Book Two.

[katerinaaqu]

The phrase was undoubtedly common by the time historiographers like Pausanias were alive. One common trait between people like Pausanias or previous sources like Apollodorous is that they quote a lot on the sources they gather from local traditions and different telling. Which is why pausanias as well as Apollodorous etc always say "I heard" or "others say" etc. The adittion to the myth roughly at Augustean times (potentially further back too although we do not know for sure) were already famous at that time and already part of beloved narratives or in this case a proverb. The proverb of Diomedes Necessity could even apply to the essence that Diomedes joins the war even if he is not part of the oath of Tyndareus (unless you take Apollodorous as a source. Then things are different) or at how he had to kill members of his family in the war of Epigonoi etc. By the time Pausanias collects information this adittion was already a thing.

Yes it is possible that as it happens with other stories of people who claim to follow the Epic Cycle or the lost scripts of Nostoi etc they often confuse the local tradition to the actual myth. But even if it is indeed part of Little Iliad still the reasoning behind it could differ. But either way all of the said parts of Epic Cycle are also not fully compatible to Homer or even with each other (classic example how Little Iliad mentions Neoptolemus as the killer of Astyanax briefly while Iliou Persis mentions Odysseus. Ironically most recently the version of Iliou Persis gained popularity especially with the dislike of Odysseus as a character by post homeric sources especially Roman, but in ancient art the most frequent version is Neoptolemus and his death is implied on different ways than than throwing off the walls)

Other traditions such as the infamous scene where Odysseus throws his shield on the beach and lands on it to outsmart Protesilaus are also not that much mentioned by the sources which always speak highly on the bravery of protesilaus and even speak on how he jumps at the same time as Achilles and just happens to land first etc.

Oh I wouldn't speak on that because of Pausanias because as I said above Pausanias seems to be gathering information and not comment on them or show his preference to them. I mostly speak on Conon's adition to the story or rather the detailed description of betrayal upon betrayal between the two heroes that were known to interract very well so unless Conon was aware of some parts of Little Iliad or even before like Aithiopis etc which indicates some detrimation between the two heroes (something that other writers like Quintus didn't mention to their work of Posthomerica) then this version seems more like an added tradition fired up more by the anti-odysseus wave of the time. What is more Attic tradition was also generally against Odysseus as a persona even from classical times by writers such as Eurypedes. Even Sophocles who generally is one of the most fair writers in regards to the complexity of Odysseus oftentimes makes him almost the antihero of his work (for example Philoctetes). My estimation is that at classical times when Athens and Sparta rivalry was on their peak, Odysseus as a peraona fitted more to the aspects that Athenenas placed upon Spartans; fight and theft. An Athenean propaganda that wanted to differentiate themselves from the other city states and claim how honorable and righteous they were, wouldn't much allow space for characters like Odysseus being posed in a positive light and instead that was used as an example not to follow or as a symbol for what happens under the table in a war.

If I also dare to expand it further from Epic Cycle like Telegony Odysseus is associated with the area of Thesprotia which was an ally to Philip or Alexander and the Macedonian kingdom was not good news to the Atheneans which wouldn't help the projection of Odysseus as anti-hero. So all and all I am not surprised if especially in Roman times such proverbs with this context would be famous in Roman Athens and even combine them with local traditions and such and given how the Palladium Heist is memorized by ancient art but never in a negative light makes me more convinced that this is a later adittion that was aflame by local traditions etc.

I am not sure if the theft of the Palladium specifically fires so much controversy given how there was also the prophecy indicated that they needed it. Unless they wanted to use it to imply that "Odysseus was ready to do anything to win" the theft itself is presented by the Epic Cycle as a necessary evil. I would say Athenean anti-odysseus wave is mostly linked to Odysseus methods and their propaganda against war in general and against Sparta in particular that drove this. Odysseus was a controversial figure even in antiquity given how his methods opposed the ideal of the time of straightforward fight. Not to mention that Odysseus was also married to a spartan princess which I am sure for a fanatic patriot Athenean would be an interesting controversy hahaha 😆

Heyo!

I don't know how exactly to phrase this but I was wondering if you know anything about Odysseus trying/planing to kill Diomedes while they were stealing the Palladium. I have heard some people say that Odysseus did try to kill Diomedes while doing so but Diomedes noticed him so Odysseus stopped.

This feels so strange to me as Odysseus and Diomedes aren’t antagonistic in the Illiad and Diomedes is loved by Athena like Odysseus so betraying him, especially for hubris, seems like a good way to end up on Athena's bad side.

Also the translated summaries of Little Illiad I know don't mention it either but I know those translations can be missing out context. I suspect the Odysseus Betrayal is a "later adition" to the Epic Cycle but I am not that confident on that opinion.

Yes absolutely and I understand completely what you say. That is because the Palladium Heist betrayal story was peobably not part of the original epic cycle but rather a later adittion. More specifically through the work called Bibliotheca by Photius I, the ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinopole in 9th century seems to be mentioning in his work a Roman mythographer named Conon.

Conon lived and created during the times of Augustus. It seems that he is one of the oldest if not the oldest mythographer to ever mention this story. So the story quoted by Photius goes as such;

Basically after the revelation of Helen's Diomedes and Odysseus enter the city. Odysseus helps Diomedes on his shoulders so that he could climb but when he reaches out his hand Diomedes doesn't take him in and goes for the Palladium himself. When he comes back apparently Odysseus asks him on it and, according to Photius who quotes Conon, Diomedes "knows his cunning" and says that he didn't find it. That a spirit stole it and that he has another one. Odysseus realizes he is lying so he eventually draws his sword to kill Diomedes and take the Palladium to the Greeks himself. Apparently as he goes to stab Diomedes in the back, his sword casts a shadow by the moonlight or the glint of the weapon, Diomedes sees it and deflects him. He draws his own sword and threatens Odysseus with it wishing to "punish him for his cowardice" but eventually he decides otherwise (arguably knowing that the war needs him) and thus he drives him back to the camp while hitting him on his back with the flat of his sword. And according to Photius this is what gave the famous phrase to Greek language διομήδεια ανάγκη (Diomedes Need) which basically means "do something unpleasant out of necessity for the greater good"

So as you see the story does seem pretty bizarre. First it implies mutual distrust and rivalry between the homeric heroes for Diomedes doesn't take Odysseus in the temple, Odysseus asks him on the Palladium obviously with intention to steal it and Diomedes lying to him and of course the actual act. For starters Odysseus ready to kill Diomedes for the sakes of fame (while he literally saves his life in the Iliad) and not only that, be greedy and stupid enough to hold a sword to the moonlight. So it holds many contradictions to the entirety of Epic Cycle even Iliou Persis which also shows a more unpleasant side of Odysseus.

My guess is that the story is mostly linked to traditions of later years especially Roman sources and is not directly linked to the Epic Cycle. Even art of later years doesn't depict the Palladium Heist as a negative aura between the two heroes. If anything they seem to be cooperating just fine. And as I said this myth as told by Conon shows BOTH Diomedes and Odysseus as rivals and equally antagonizing and deceiving each other which doesn't usually appear to the Epic Cycle. Although of course we cannot be 100% sure given how the Epic Cycle is lost, it seems to me more like a roman legend that usually depict Greek heroes of Troy in general and Odysseus in particular, in the most negative light possible given how Odysseus is known for taking Troy, the mythical city of origin to the Romans (given how Aeneas who barely escapes with his life from Troy is the ancestor of the founders of Rome)

I hope this answers your question; to summarize it seems to me that this story of the Palladium Heist has as much connection to the Epic Cycle as Ovid has to Medusa legend; seems more like a version either created or told by Conon based on traditions of his time and the general anti-Odysseus climate.