#your one in early development understood on some level

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Wow look at her

you: 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

Also you: 💦💦💦💦

Me: nice

you: omg I love him so much

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sea Monster x Reader

In the spirit of Mermay, I come to you with a slightly different approach: an octopus hybrid, dwelling in the dark depths of ancient waters. :) Hopefully close enough to the sea monster you imagined, @wally0117

Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, monster romance, reader likes sharks (a lot); inspired by The Shape of Water and My Octopus Teacher; photo from Whalebone Magazine

He’s always been aware of humans, naturally. Observed them from the beginnings of time, from the very first rudimentary attempt of a boat that crossed his waters. Though he can only guess how these creatures exist, how they breathe, how they move. What arrives in his depths is always a corpse of some sort. Bloated, decaying carcasses, rarely intact, whether chipped by fish or by time. Everything else is left to his imagination.

Until today. The fish are restless, the currents are stronger. Something must be happening above, stringing him along curiously. His many legs sway in tandem, opening and closing, as he investigates the source of interest. His pale white eyes narrow to a mere squint, unused to the light of the surface levels. At last, he finds it: a human.

Yet this one is unusual. Intact - save for the bleeding wound - and unlike the washed-out, cadaveric blue tint he’s normally accustomed to. He notices a twitch of the limb and it dawns on him: this one is still alive.

You wake up with a violent cough, thrusting out the leftover liquid that had invaded your lungs earlier. You clearly remember drowning, so how did you end up on shore again? The answer reveals itself rather quickly: a monstrous creature, albeit humanoid for the most part. The upper half resembles a man, but the torso ends in thick, enormous tentacles, now flopped onto the sand, surrounding your body. You search for the creature’s face, framed by translucent tendrils that seem to replace what you’d expect as hair.

“Thank you”. He scans your features and remains silent. Does he even understand human speech? After a moment of consideration, he looks ahead, surveying the water, then returns to you, giving you a nudge. He most likely wants to know how you ended up in that situation to begin with. “That’s, well…”

Conveniently enough, the monster has brought you back to your little camp, so you reach for your backpack and pull out a book. Of course, no words can ever replace the image itself. With renewed enthusiasm, you open your encyclopedia and turn it towards the man, showing him a photo of a sand tiger shark, tapping on it excitedly. “I was looking for sharks!”

Ever since the bizarre, life-saving encounter, you’ve been returning to the same spot most days. And without exception, the monster will be waiting for you in one of the neighboring caves. Judging by the pellucid, pale skin and his reluctance to be in the light, you guessed early on that he might be a creature of the depths.

One that has been around for a long time, it seems. Once he understood your interest in sharks and other aquatic animals, he developed a liking to play guide for you, silently touring you through forests of kelp, hidden caves, labyrinths of reefs and hills. He knows where the animals linger, and they don't scurry away when you approach. You've never dreamed of being so close to them, staring into their eyes and tracing their fins as they swim past you, unbothered and relaxed. The monster will gaze at you from a distance, amused by your passion.

On ground, you’ve begun your own little experiment: can the octopus creature learn sign language? You didn’t need long to discover how intelligent he is, mimicking your gestures with flawless ease, instantly memorizing the meanings, the connections, the implications. He seems to be terribly delighted by this newfound tool of communication, often asking you questions with earnest curiosity.

Ah, yes, the questions. It makes sense that he’d want to know more about humans, though his interrogations are rather…particular. Specific. It’s less about humans as a whole, and more about you. How long have you been swimming here? How deep can you actually swim, with or without aid? Might you have a family waiting for you back home? A mate, perchance? No? Interesting.

"My vacation will end soon", you sign with pursed lips. He tilts his head. "Leaving?" his webbed hands gesture, somewhat uneasy. You nod. You can discern a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Eventually, he resumes: "Would you like to see my home?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise. His home? Down there? Was such a thing even achievable for a human like you?

The plump suckers attach themselves to your skin, one resting over your mouth. "Do you trust me?" You cast one final glance over the underwater abyss, a black hole trapping all light and matter. You shake your head in approval. Without hesitation, he plunges over the cliff, pulling you after him and into the yawning void of darkness. His form glows eerily, and his movement is swift and elegant. You can tell this is his land, his territory. You would've been dead a long time ago.

He releases you on the wet stone, inside the air pocket of a cave. You need a few moments to overcome the wave of claustrophobia pressing against your lungs. As you catch your breath, you recall your long path from the surface. It would be impossible to make it back out again without your friend. A cold shiver runs across your spine. "Have a break, and I'll show you everything else afterwards", he gestures with a smile. "How long will it take? I don't want to walk back at night", you explain.

Silence. You stare into his empty orbs, awaiting a reaction. There's not a sound, not a gust of wind, not a shred of light. "You're not going back", he finally answers.

You see, he's done a fair amount of research himself. He doesn't need an encyclopedia to figure you out: how you breathe, how you move, how you exist. In fact, he is rather confident in his ways of helping you adapt to a life spent together. He would've never brought you down here if he wasn't certain of your survival. His grin widens in anticipation, a strange warmth enveloping his innards at the mere thought of it: a future with you in it, right here. However, one question remains, a cheeky, perverted detail that has been on his mind from the moment he met you, yet he could never investigate it properly.

How do humans mate?

[azrielhours]

Soft Spot

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night.  

Warnings: Smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel Shadowsinger. Methodical, efficient, focused. Rigid dietary habits, discipline in training, unwavering proficiency in espionage. The spies he trained were held to that level of diligence—hell, even the priestesses he oversaw knew he expected order even in his absence.

That detail orientation carried over to his sex life. The lovers he sought were deliberately chosen to allow him to maintain the level of control he desired. Women that understood what he wanted—how he wanted them. Women that didn’t grow emotionally attached, that understood it was purely a physical transaction. Women that he could keep from his busybody family, situated in parts of Velaris that weren’t in their usual line of frequenting.

Azriel found a positive correlation between softer, sweeter women, and their likelihood to form emotional attachment, and an equally positive correlation between women who fucked rougher, who were colder, more jaded, and their ability to remain unattached. Those who didn’t demand he slept over after, that he take them to dinner.

You were the closest thing to an exception, being the cheeriest on the roster, yet you never displayed any attachment to him. Never looked disappointed when he left without eating breakfast. That was one of the things he liked most about you; you were lively—more than any of his other lovers—so he could enjoy the more girlishly charming, satiating parts you offered, but you stayed within the limit of his preferred emotional detachment. It was like a controlled dosage of indulgence.

Besides your vibrant energy, the other thing that made you feel different from the rest was the way you touched him. In a sea of meticulously selected, hard-hearted lovers, you were the only one that touched him softly. The first time you stroked his face tenderly while he was rutting away inside you, he thought you’d crossed some emotional threshold, that you’d begin asking him to be exclusive. To let you meet his family. But that never happened, so he dismissed it.

But it happened again when you once pressed your entire torso to his in an embrace that caught him off guard while you rode him. Held him to your heart until you both found your release.

Azriel figured this was just another avenue of indulgence you sought from him. Pretences of intimacy. If you could enjoy them, so would he. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, even when he began seeking you out over his other lovers. He was still in control.

It was the morning after he’d spent the night at your house. He awoke early, his circadian rhythm in tune with his perfectionism. His fingers felt across the sheets—just to gain his bearings. The sheets felt cold. Good, he insisted. This suited him better anyways.

He dressed, washed up, and made his way out. Maybe you had an early shift, or you liked to meditate. It didn’t matter, it was just his spymaster mind naturally seeking answers. In the kitchen, you were nowhere to be seen, but a singular plate on the island caught his eye.

It was homemade banana bread, each slice in a neat paper wrapper. Beside the plate, there was a note.

Gluten-free, sweetened with honey, full of organic nuts for protein. Made yesterday evening. Hope you like ‘em! Had to run to meet with a friend.

Huh.

Azriel wondered if you’d prepared them specifically for him, or if you just happened to have similar nutritional regiments. He took a slice, leaving your apartment.

He strolled, basking in the emptiness in the streets so early in the morning, and admittedly, the banana bread was very good. Who did you have to meet so early in the morning? Or was it a means to keep him an arm's length away? If anything, that was appropriate—it was simply an occupational by-product to find curiosity in everything. Azriel pushed the thoughts aside, finishing his dillydallying, and winnowed home.

~

Cassian sat next to Azriel in the lounge while everyone transferred there after dinner. He hadn’t seen his brother all day with their respectively packed schedules, but Rhys called an impromptu gathering at the Town House.

“Long night last night?” Cassian asked.

Azriel shrugged. “It was fine.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Just another girl. Kind of bubbly.”

“I didn’t know that was your type,” Cassian laughed.

“It’s not. Just trying something new.”

Cassian shook his head, chuckling. “Long as you’re happy.”

Azriel didn’t know if he was necessarily happy, but an image flashed in his head of you baking in your apartment. If you had that concentrated furrow in your brows while you worked.

“What was the meeting called for, again?” he changed the subject.

Cassian shrugged. “Nesta had some new contact she thought would help with research.”

On cue, the twin wraiths entered the space. “Your guest is here,” Nuala spoke, stepping aside.

Azriel’s eyes widened as you walked right into his living room.

Nesta stood from her seat. You squeezed her in a tight embrace, joy unconcealed as you laughed brightly. Nesta began introducing you to everyone who you greeted with similar enthusiasm, the sweetness practically dripping off you. Your pretty smiles and firm handshakes had everyone matching your warm energy, and Azriel found his throat going dry.

Your eyes scanned the room, halting and widening when you spotted him. Then snapped back to the High Lord who was asking you about archive sources for the library.

“I—I have a friend who works in the Day Court. They—um—” another glance at Azriel, cheeks bright red— “they accidentally duplicated some texts. I’ll get the details for you soon.”

Cassian noted your glances at Azriel, not necessarily a rare sight for females to be smitten by him, but when he saw his brother’s shadows snaking the ground hastily—a tell of Azriel’s restlessness—Cassian narrowed his eyes.

You made your way over, shaking hands with the General, pointedly avoiding Azriel’s eye. Cassian tried to ease your apprehension by smiling kindly, making a joke about walking into a den of vipers to which you laughed.

Then it was Azriel’s turn, and he was facing his lover in front of his entire family.

You stared up at Azriel, brows raised and eyes wide like a doe. Your blushing cheeks and nervous fidgeting had Azriel biting back a smile despite the ordeal, unexpectedly amused by the fluster. It was adorable.

Azriel stuck out his hand, seeking to ease your nerves, surprising even himself at the urge. You placed your hand in his, still hesitant. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “Nesta introduced us earlier,” he lied.

“Oh. Yes. It’s good to see you again, Azriel,” you quickly recovered, and Azriel was impressed, resisting the upward tug of his lips.

His shadows whispered of Nesta frowning at the lie, then just as quickly, her mouth parting in realization. She came over, pointedly staring at Azriel, then looped her arm through yours and guided you to sit as everyone retook their seats.

Conversation resumed. You were occupied with the High Lord and Lady, answering questions about the texts. Azriel glimpsed at you again, taking in how expressive you naturally were, how he could read your every emotion. The way your eyes shone when you showed interest in something, how you nodded eagerly. He’d always taken pleasure in how responsive you were, but he’d rarely seen you outside the bedroom; didn’t get to enjoy it otherwise. Cassian leaned over to Azriel. “Not your type, hey?”

“Shut up,” Azriel muttered as Cassian chuckled.

Someone eventually brought out Rhys’s good wine, and the group indulged themselves. You listened eagerly as Cassian told stories at Azriel’s expense, peering over at him shyly. Azriel couldn’t help but wink, making you blush all over again and break his gaze.

Soon the respective couples began retiring. Nesta was making promises about meeting with you again when she suddenly faced Azriel, mischief bright in her eyes. “Azriel can fly you home, Y/N. Have a goodnight.” She rose, taking Cassian’s hand who was biting back a laugh.

When the room finally cleared, it was just you and Azriel.

You faced him. “Azriel, I’m sorry—I didn’t know this was your house,” you stammered. Azriel had never seen you so nervous before.

“It’s alright, this was an unexpected… coincidence. I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable for you.”

Your brows rose earnestly. “No, your friends are lovely. I just hope you’re not upset or anything.”

Azriel shook his head. “Not at all.” He scanned your tense form. “It’s alright, I’m not upset.”

You nodded, forcing a tight smile. “I can just walk home by myself, it’s okay.” You collected your bag, looking to the door, but Azriel found himself speaking before he thought twice.

“I didn’t know you knew Nesta.”

Your attention was drawn back. “I met her at a bookstore a while back. I was just with her this morning.”

Ah. “So that’s who you snuck off to see,” Azriel smiled teasingly.  

You gaped for a beat before smiling comfortably. “We had a very important meeting.” You finally seemed to relax; he found himself wanting more.

“Is my company so dull that you needed to replace it with books at eight in the morning?”

You laughed openly now, making Azriel grin. “Oh, yes. Real monotonous guy. Quite the prude.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Azriel stepped closer, and you craned your neck back. “I’m just not doing it for you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” he murmured.

You shook your head, staring up at him as he stepped even closer.

Then he bent to whisper in your ear. “That’s not what it felt like.”

Azriel relished the sight of your mouth parting in shock. Then your eyes narrowed, and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper back, “You can’t prove that.”

His brows rose. “Is that a challenge?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose.”

Azriel shook his head, glaring playfully as he weighed his options. He’s never brought a lover home. All escapades were done at their houses or some ulterior location. He eyed the stairs, wondering if he could muster the willpower to turn you down, especially with the way you were looking up at him.

When he met your gaze again, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell. He scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist, and winnowed to his room.

You gasped, clutching onto him before the world rematerialized. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d be here, that Azriel would ever let you in like this. You stepped out of his hold, nervousness creeping up on you all over again. Azriel was the most enigmatic male you’d ever come across, but this felt unpredictable even for him.

Azriel watched you pace, taking in his space in the dark. Watched as you crossed your arms across your abdomen, the stress he’d noted in your body earlier becoming visible again.

Worst of all, Azriel had the distinct urge to comfort the anxiety away. Again.

You’d lounged with his family, and now he bore witness to the sight of you in his room. It was too intimate. It broke his rules, taunted his discipline.

Azriel walked over to where you stood near the window, and you turned to face him. He brought a hand up to the back of your neck, cradling it. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked lowly.

“No,” you stepped closer to him.

Azriel kissed you. There was nothing soft about the way he moved his mouth, how he pressed into you demandingly. He felt your gasp in his mouth, gripping you tighter to him. His other hand moved through your hair, fisting it at the scalp and tugging it back for more access.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, matching his fervour, and it only spurred him on. He walked you back to his bed, yanking at your clothes blindly, stripping you without releasing your mouth.

You were naked by the time your knees hit the mattress, and Azriel broke off to watch you fall back into the bed.

His bed.

He growled and began yanking off his clothes. He crawled to where you lay, hovering over your body. Your legs widened instinctually, allowing him to cushion his hardening length against your core, relishing in the warmth. He ground into you, kissing your neck. Your gasps were frequent, hands carding through his hair as your hips bucked of their own accord against his movement. You reached down between your bodies and stroked his length. Azriel shuddered, leaning into your touch. But then you looked up at him again with those damned eyes, and Azriel’s breath caught.

“Turn around,” he rasped.

You stared for a beat, brows faintly pinching before obliging him. He lifted off you to give you the breadth to turn, watching as you braced yourself on your hands and knees.

Azriel stroked himself against you a few more times before easing in, groaning at the tight fit. He waited a few moments as you adjusted to the stretch before he began moving.

Azriel had never made love before, but even when he regularly fucked his women, he did so within the limits of what they wanted. What they could take. But as he repeatedly withdrew and buried himself, there was a distinct urge to take you harder. Like being rougher would salvage his detachment, annul any inklings of intimacy. Erase the etching of your wide-eyed gaze from his consciousness. So he pounded hard, savouring how you massaged him from the inside. How you arched forward from the force, bracing yourself on your forearms from the harsh snap of his hips.

He’d taken you from the back before, but even then, you’d managed to work some tender touch into the act; grasping his hands where they gripped your hips, a stroke to his thighs from beneath your body. But this time, you weren’t making any attempts as he jackknifed again and again.

No soft touches.

That observation grounded Azriel in the haze of his unrelenting carnal chase. He studied your form. You were panting, taking him well and clenching around his length, but he noted that tension was still present in your body—your shoulders and back were stiff. Azriel gentled his thrusting. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you breathed. Then you reached a hand back as if to touch his reassuringly, but you froze mid-reach and retracted it. That sent an ugly pang through his chest.

Your words from before echoed in his mind. I hope you’re not upset.

Azriel halted inside you.

He was a bastard for making you endure his callousness.

You pushed back against him, trying to urge him on, but Azriel didn’t let up, holding your hips firmly in place. “Why’d you stop?” you whined.

Because you’re not touching me like you usually do.

It was like cold water to the face, realizing what he wanted.

But Azriel couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to admit to it—the urge to treat you softly, to soothe away your worry. That he sought your caresses. So he didn’t try to verbalize it. Instead, he pulled out, gently guiding you onto your back, and lowered himself to his forearms on either side of your head. You stared in awe.

When he entered you this time, it was slower, more intentional. Immediately, your face contorted in pleasure, and Azriel could feel how your body eased beneath his, how you relaxed. And when he lowered his mouth to yours, you sighed. He kissed you deeply and softly. Sweetly. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him tighter to your torso, to wrap your legs firmly around his waist. Azriel’s deep groan reverberated through your chest, bringing you back to the edge of release.

He moved with deliberate, deep strokes, adjusting according to how you responded, which angles made you gasp. There was no space between your bodies; with each push, you felt him everywhere, felt him brush against your breasts, felt his hips move languidly between your trembling thighs.

He noted how close you were from your writhing against him, how you arched further into his heaving chest. So he snaked a hand down to your apex and rubbed gentle circles, tipping you over the edge. Release tore through you, and you couldn’t breathe, white-hot ecstasy coursing through you as he worked you through it. He raised his head to watch you fall apart.

When the waves abated, you pulled his head down against yours, his cheekbone resting directly against your lips. His eyes fluttered shut when you stroked his other cheek softly, whispering breathily for him to let go, baby, let go, and you felt his orgasm tear through him, how it erupted warm bursts of his seed deep in your belly. You kept stroking his cheek as he came down, only releasing him when he stopped shuddering.

When he pulled back and looked at you, there was something in his eyes you’d never seen before. Then, a tiny smile tugged the edges of his lips up, and he finally removed himself from you, laying next to you.

Before you could even consider whether he wanted you to stay, Azriel tugged the sheet over your body and wordlessly caressed your hip. By his standards, it was an invitation if you’ve ever seen one, so you silently shuffled closer with your back to him and basked in the way he pulled you to his chest.

For the first time, Azriel initiated the soft touches. He cupped your shoulders, stroking down your arms to your hands, interweaving his fingers with yours with his palms cradling the back of your hands. He crossed your clasped hands across your abdomen.

You sighed, pressing closer to his chest, savouring his body heat. He’d never held you like this—never held you at all. “You’re so warm, Az,” you breathed, squeezing his fingers.

Rules be damned, he thought.

When he was sure you’d fallen asleep, he whispered, “You bring it out of me.”

~

Azriel awoke; the remnants of a feeling lingering in his mind… something peaceful. Something hopeful.

You’d stayed the night. At his house. Slept in his arms.

He reached across the sheets. When they were cold, he couldn’t lie to himself, couldn’t deny his disappointment.

Had he taken it too far? Was it because he’d been so rough before he gentled himself?

Azriel frowned, rising out of bed.

It was ten in the morning. He’d slept in. Whatever’d gotten under his skin lately was really giving him a run for his money. He had a sinking feeling it had to do with a bubbly girl with a wide-eyed stare.

Azriel entered the kitchen, finding his entire family already eating.

“Late morning?” Cassian grinned.

“Late night, more like,” Rhys added as Azriel rolled his eyes, taking his seat.

The food tasted bland. Azriel frowned into his coffee; why did it bother him this much? You were only doing what he always did—leaving immediately. Should he expect something different just because he’d been soft with you?

Then Nesta entered the kitchen, and you walked in right behind her.

Azriel’s eyes widened, and you halted. “Oh,” you breathed.

Nesta smiled devilishly. “I was just showing Y/N the library while you slept in, Azriel.”

Oh.

Azriel nodded in silence, finding his plate suddenly very interesting.

“I—I’m just going to get my bag,” you said, turning to leave hurriedly.

In your absence, all eyes turned to Azriel, who let out a longwinded exhale. When he deigned to look, everyone was smirking.

“Looks like someone had a big boy sleepover,” Mor teased.

Cassian drawled, “Anything you’d like to share, Az?”

“Not particularly,” Azriel replied, standing to leave, ignoring the innuendos tossed around, the wolf whistle sounding above the laughter.

Azriel walked back to his room, an unexpected nervousness creeping up on him. You stood inside. “Y/N,” he spoke softly, drawing your attention.

“Azriel, I don’t mean to impose. I didn’t know your friends would be in the kitchen.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. You’re not imposing. I’m—I’m glad you stayed,” his cheeks warmed at his own admission.

You bit your lip. “It’s just—I know you’re very… um, particular. With your methods.”

Azriel smiled. “My methods?”

You fidgeted, smiling shyly. “Mhm.”

He walked closer. “Well, it seems you’re making a rulebreaker out of me.”

Your eyes narrowed, glinting with mischief.

“Will you stay for breakfast?” He beamed when your mouth parted, fond of your candid nature. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I baked any pastries for you.”

But you quickly recovered, glaring accusatorily. “Who’s to say those were for you?”

There was that sass he adored. Azriel laughed. “My apologies for assuming.”

You gazed up at him in wonder. “I’d love to. It’s just—you know, your prude tendencies,” you shrugged. “They’re not to my liking.”  

Azriel chuckled. “Not the prude tendencies again.”

You smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d be—you know… I didn’t account for our time. I have to run, unfortunately.” Damn. Before he could sit with the sting of disappointment, you continued. “But I’m gonna be really hungry this evening.”

“Dinner, then?”

You touched a hand softly to his arm. He wondered if you knew what those touches did to him. “Yes, dinner. I’ll see you at seven, Shadowsinger.”

Moments later, as Azriel stood by the foyer window watching you leave, Cassian approached him, leaning over his shoulder. “Look’s like someone’s got a soft spot,” he muttered. Azriel scoffed, but the words rang true. Cassian added, “I’m happy for you. Are you happy?”

Azriel unwittingly smiled as you turned at the end of the street, peering over your shoulder, catching his eye and winking.

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

[adragonsfriend]

Use this one trick to instantly fix all childhood trauma (Jedi Masters don’t want you to know this)!!!!!

That is what every “if Obi-Wan had just— *adds one extra scene to canon* —then Anakin would’ve had perfect mental health and never listened to Palpatine at all,” sounds like to me. Look I am not an expert on any kind of psychology at all let alone early childhood development but,

It is possible to do your very best to help or raise someone and still have bad or imperfect outcomes, especially when you have someone actively, secretly working against you (cough cough Sith Lord of the month cough), (for many reasons, but in this case particularly), because unravelling the mindset built in early childhood is hard, actually.

Coming at this from the “raised in a safe and loving environment” side of things, it took me years to figure out and internalize that my friends whose parents weren’t as great as mine were functioning in an entirely different landscape when it came to their interactions with adults.

Many years ago when I was in middle school a friend (acquaintance? idk I think most people thought I was annoying) told me that her ankle kept giving out and causing her pain. I asked if she'd told her parents so she could rest or go to the doctor. She told me she had, but her mother either hadn't listened or refused to help. My (approximate) responses?

"So it's not actually that bad then?"

"You should tell her again."

"Are you sure you explained it right?"

The only explanation I could comprehend at the time was that there must have been some unclear communication about the situation or its severity--if her mother had understood she was in pain, she couldn't possibly have just not done anything about it? Adults are responsible, caring, etcetera! They wouldn't do that?!

With more experience, I've come to understand better, and learned to respond in kinder, more helpful ways, but the shift in mindset was not and is not intuitive.

And I had the luxury of figuring all that out whilst being safe myself. Coming from the other direction, being in danger and trying to figure out why other people act like the world is safe? I can't say for sure, but I imagine it’s a lot more complicated.

Point with regard to Star Wars being, it really is harder for Anakin, coming in later, to acclimate to the Jedi ways and thought processes than it is for his peers who grew up in the safe environment of the Temple. And whatever arguments people want to have about how much psychology and therapy exist in the Star Wars universe, or how much “Jedi just do cognitive behavioral therapy” (not totally inaccurate, but reductive on several levels), no matter what the answers to those questions, it will still be harder for Anakin.

There is a reason the council changes its mind on training him only after he is suddenly famous and the Sith are proven to be back. When Anakin was not in significant danger of being snatched up by someone else, it was genuinely probably the easier and safer option—for him and everyone else—for him to live a different life.

The Jedi are not necessarily fully prepared for a child with Anakin's history, and, there is nothing bad about living an ordinary life. Anakin would not have been somehow unforgivably robbed by living life as a mechanic or an engineer or something, rather than being a Jedi.

Anakin is a victim of many things in his life—Sidious, Watto, Gardulla, Tatooine’s everything, his own conscious choices—but he is not a victim of malice, incompetence, or idiocy by the Jedi just because they couldn't—in only a decade or so—help him fully and perfectly unravel the mindset he developed in his early childhood. If there was any lack of qualification on their part, it was one they were aware of—but which was outweighed by the danger of little Anakin getting kidnapped out of normal-kid elementary school.

Being brought up in and around slavery absolutely made him more vulnerable to Sidous and became the basis of their dynamic as master and apprentice. Acting like the trauma that affects his mindset and actions for his entire life can be obliterated just by making minimal changes to the plot is wild to me.

And don’t get me wrong, fics and headcanons can do whatever they want, not everyone wants or is trying to write a deep psychological character study (also fanfic and even fiction in general cannot and should not be held to any standard of realism if it's not serving the story and the author)—simple fix-it’s (my love) are fun and an excellent short-cut to other things like happiness and fluff (my other loves)—but don’t act serious about the idea that adding one conversation about his feelings or one extra explanation about Jedi philosophy would automatically lead to Anakin having perfect mental health outcomes and always making good decisions.

Disclaimer (if the ones throughout weren't enough) : please go forth and do whatever you want. the moral of this post is actually just that (1) you won’t convince me, (2) I wanted to talk about this, (3) the clickbait title was too funny not to post, (4) i literally can't open my mouth without phrasing things like i'm in the middle of a heated debate, and (5) i continue to not be an expert in early childhood development—my evidence is very literally anecdotal

[alchemistofthenewage]

How to Empower young children

For progressive parents, teachers and adults

Let them know that adults don’t have all the answers

Encourage free thinking and originality.

Let their opinions be heard and known. Don’t agree or disagree, create a judgement-free space for them to express and explore their ideas.

Give them choices and let them make small-level decisions for themselves.

Explain the consequences of an action in a factual way, not based on your negative past experiences. There are multiple probabilities and the child may not have the same experience as you did. You can however let them know about your fears around an experience, but also let them know that their experience is personal to them and will yield its own unique outcomes.

Give them pointers and directions to explore a certain concept by themself. Be a mentor and encourage them to ask questions while keeping the answers open-ended, ones that lead to further introspection for the child. A good answer is one that leads to more questions and digging in deeper rather than putting a dead-end to the exploration process.

The more briefly you can say something, the more clearly you have understood a subject and the better you can explain it to the child.

Children are full of energy and trying to calm them down is a futile effort. They have kinetic energy that requires them to move around, have space to play, run and have fun in their body while growing up. Don’t restrict their free movement or try to control them, instead give them ample opportunity to express this energy through their limbs as this is an important aspect of their physical development. In the early ages, growing physically happens before mental development, and hence is a greater priority, always remember that.

Teach your kids how to ask for their needs and be respectful of how you listen to them when they are expressing a need to you. Some needs are essential while others are less urgent, teach them the difference between the two and assure them that their essential needs will never be compromised and they must be loud and vocal about them, no matter who they are around.

Kids don’t understand the moods and issues of the adults around them. Help them understand what to expect and where and why you do what you do so they aren’t clueless about what’s going on. Don’t be afraid to speak about your vulnerable feelings with them in a polite way to help them understand better.

Never use aggression to control your child, be it verbal or passive aggressive as well. Children are very sensitive and only respond positively to the language of love. Using fear tactics on them is the fastest way to dis-empower them as individuals and turn them into a punishment-fearing restricted child instead of an authentic, happy and liberated child.

Give up the convenience of a quick fix and adopt approaches that will actually help empower children around us. You don’t have to be hard on yourself or be fake, start by just understanding things and being open to new ideas.

[mbti-notes]

hi i live in an ethnically divided country and in the process of growing up i too eventually became prejudiced towards other gruops because thats what we were taught that they are responsible for ruining the country etc but as i grow up ive tried to reduce this prejudice by first holding back judgements during conflict and hearing ppl out-not easy i was wondering if you have any other ways to help me tone down some of the prejudicial feelings i have thanks

Combating prejudice is deeply related to personal growth, so it's worth going into detail about it. Prejudice is a complicated topic because it needs to be understood from many different angles. It is a psychologically sensitive topic because of the moral injury and intergenerational trauma it causes. It is a politically controversial topic because there is a lot of disagreement about the best methods of remedying it.

Academically, this field of study is relatively new, so a lot of the research is still in early stages. It is a sad fact that academia has always been dominated by the perpetrators of prejudice, so the topic was not taken seriously until civil rights became a more prominent issue in society. In countries where civil rights haven't mattered or were continually suppressed, prejudice is considered just another form of suffering that people must endure.

WHAT IS PREJUDICE?

The literal meaning of prejudice comes from "pre-judge", to make a judgment without proper logical reasoning and/or before possessing necessary and sufficient evidence (of truth). If you can set aside the moral aspect of prejudice for a moment (whether it's good or bad), the foundation of pre-judgment is actually a cognitive issue, pertaining to how humans think, and the many ways in which their thought process can be flawed. Sometimes it helps to think of prejudice in cognitive rather than moral terms because it can reduce blaming and shaming, which allows for more productive discussion.

As humans evolved, they were often faced with dangerous situations in which they had to make timely decisions without opportunity to gather sufficient information. As a result, pre-judgment got built into the human brain as a survival tool. Pre-judgment relies on "fuzzy" sources of information that are immediately available, such as memories, emotions, and intuitions. The brain automatically uses past experience to formulate "general rules of thumb", which is an unrefined method of organizing and categorizing information. These generalizations can then be used to make quick intuitive leaps and connections when navigating new situations. The word "automatic" is important because most of this information processing takes place instantly, below conscious awareness.

The great speed at which pre-judgment occurs means that certain things must be sacrificed, such as mindfulness, precision, accuracy, and most importantly, the bigger picture, since the past experience of one individual is an extremely limited pool of information. The flaws of this "lower" level information processing are presumably why human beings also had to evolve the so-called "higher" brain that is used for logical reasoning and conscious deliberation.

In other words, humans essentially have two different brains (which have been given various names throughout the history of psychology). Problems arise when the two brains diverge or disagree. The bad news is that it's impossible to stop your "lower" brain from pre-judging because it's a critical brain function. The good news is that it's quite possible to use your "higher" brain to counteract the mistakes and negative effects of pre-judgment. This is a process that may involve several steps:

STEP 1: NURTURE SELF-AWARENESS

The first step is to develop enough self-awareness to realize that there's a lot more going on in your mind than you realize. The reason I go on and on about self-awareness is that you can't address an issue until you become aware of it. Many people aren't aware of their beliefs and values and just take them for granted. To increase self-awareness, reflect on your beliefs and values in more detail. It might help to write them down.

beliefs: what you take as true/untrue about the world

values: how you assign importance, significance, or worth

The fact of the matter is that people pick up their beliefs and values quite passively from their environment. Knowing this can make you more understanding of people when they hold problematic beliefs because it's likely that they haven't had enough opportunity to examine them properly. We all grow up internalizing someone else's beliefs and values. Yet many people treat their beliefs and values as their personal "identity" and are unwilling to let them go even when the beliefs are proven false or the values proven misguided.

In your case, your culture has taught you racist beliefs and values, e.g., that people of a certain ethnicity are bad, inferior, not to be trusted, best eliminated, etc. As a child, you accepted these beliefs and values because i) you didn't know any better, and ii) holding them made it easier for you to fit in. It feels good to fit in. A culture survives and thrives when its members continually validate each other, even when the beliefs/values being validated are problematic.

In adulthood, you can hide behind excuses and continue to uncritically conform with your culture, or you can reflect critically on your culture and actively choose the kind of person you want to be. Do you want these unexamined beliefs and values to define you? Do you want to let these unexamined beliefs and values make you a protector of a prejudiced society and a perpetrator of discrimination? If not, what kind of society do you hope to live in, and what kinds of beliefs and values must you hold in order to help bring that better society into being?

Shining more light on the underlying beliefs and values that underpin your behavior creates an opportunity to change them for the better. There are many things you don't have the power to control in society, but the one thing that is always within your power to improve is yourself.

STEP 2: FACE UP TO YOUR PREJUDICE

The second step is to admit that you pre-judge and acknowledge any problems it has caused. A problem won't get solved by dancing around it. To confront a problem head on means you must see the FULL extent of it. Once again, it might help to lay it all out in writing, for example:

Write down all the times you felt awkward, clueless, or helpless around someone different from you, and explain why.

Write down all the instances where pre-judgment led you to misunderstand, misjudge, or mistreat someone, either intentionally or unintentionally.

Write down all the times you got criticized or suffered negative consequences related to pre-judgment.

Write down what you really thought about the people you've met of that ethnicity, even if it makes you feel ashamed, especially if it makes you feel ashamed. Shame is an indicator that something about your thinking/behavior is morally wrong, so learn to pay attention to shame and you'll discover opportunities to improve.

Were there better ways to approach those situations? It's hard to change negative behavior when you have no positive behavior to replace it with. Generally speaking, a great way to learn and improve in social situations is to be more curious and take more time to listen, rather than make assumptions and trip over your own false beliefs.

STEP 3: IMPROVE YOUR THINKING SKILLS

The third step is to develop better use of your "higher" intellect and its ability to reason, i.e., improve your critical thinking skills. Critical thinking basically means properly vetting your beliefs and values. There are several criteria you ought to use:

Truth: Is your belief really true? Is it based on fact? Human beings are prone to confirmation bias, so did you gather all of the available evidence and give fair consideration to the counterevidence? If you don't know enough to judge truth for yourself, have you consulted with a wide range of experts on the matter? Experts are the people who have already done sufficient formal learning and study. While their word shouldn't be taken as gospel, they are a good source of credible information that ought to be taken into consideration.

Rationality: Is your belief/value reasonable? Can you explain how you came to hold the belief/value? Can you provide a convincing logical argument to prove your belief or justify your value to others? If you don't know enough to judge the quality of information on your own, has your belief/value undergone adequate critique and rebuttal from those who know more? When used appropriately, discussion and debate with others can help you refine your ideas toward greater precision and accuracy.

Coherence: Do you express and apply your beliefs/values consistently in every situation? Do any of your beliefs/values contradict each other? Have you ever detected or been accused of hypocritical behavior? When your beliefs, values, and behaviors don't align or fit with each other, it causes an uncomfortable mental state called cognitive dissonance. It's a sign that there's a problem in your thought process, which you should use as an opportunity to straighten your mind out.

Racial/ethnic prejudice is a form of faulty thinking because it is based on stereotyping. A stereotype is an over-generalization about an entire category/group. For example, Americans are often stereotyped as loud, Canadians as polite, French as snobby, British as uptight, etc.

Stereotypes are difficult to eradicate for two reasons. First, stereotypes are a form of lazy thinking, and laziness often wins out when mental energy is limited. Since they are a form of pre-judgment, stereotypes are a quick and easy way to make sense of the world: Thinking along very general categories bypasses the need to think about all the little details of each individual member of the category. Stereotypes are also lazy in that they do not properly distinguish between race, ethnicity, and culture. How a person looks (biology), where they are from (geography), what group they identify with (culture), and how they behave (psychology) are separate issues, are they not? Yet, stereotypes do not recognize such nuances.

Second, stereotypes are easy to defend because they contain a tiny but heavily distorted grain of truth. Culture is real, and people who grow up in the same culture are more likely to adopt similar attitudes and behaviors. It is true that Americans tend to value extraverted behaviors like assertiveness and outspokenness. Cultural trends make it very easy to find an example of a loud American or a polite Canadian. Humans only require one or two examples and their brain will see a "pattern" and start making generalizations. Generalizations eventually evolve into stereotypes once enough people start believing they are true.

Many people try to debunk stereotypes by calling them false, but that's not quite the right approach. The more important problem with stereotypes is that they are only a very small piece of the picture that has been blown out of proportion and treated as the whole picture. A stereotype is an oversimplification. To debunk an oversimplification is different than just calling out falsity. If the problem is that people aren't taking enough information into consideration, then the solution should be to make them take the fuller picture into account. This can be done in two ways:

i. Seek Counterevidence: For instance, for every loud American you meet in the US, you will find a quiet one that didn't draw your attention. If you actually did this, the number of loud Americans would immediately drop to ~50%. It's much harder to justify stereotyping when you realize that the number of people who fit the stereotype isn't anywhere near 100% or even a majority. This is why an effective way to increase racial and ethnic harmony is to encourage more mixing and mingling between groups. When you're constantly encountering evidence that goes against the stereotype, over and over again, stereotypes will cease to have any meaning.

ii. Respect Individuality: Recognize that not everyone subscribes equally or in the same way to the culture in which they were brought up. Go to a collectivist culture and you'll find plenty of rebellious people. Go to a traditional culture and you'll find plenty of open-minded people. There are plenty of people who suffer because they don't fit in well with their culture. When you stereotype, you are basically saying that every person is just a mindless or unthinking product of their culture. Is it fair to dismiss people in this way, before you've even known a single fact about their personal experience and background? Another reason why mixing and mingling between groups promotes racial and ethnic harmony is because normal everyday interactions force you to connect with each individual's humanity and you can't help but be more empathetic as a result.

Do you hope to be an intelligent person? An important aspect of growing as a person is to develop your intellectual capabilities because they are necessary for having good judgment. Is it possible to make consistently good decisions in life when your mind is riddled with wrong ideas and bad thinking habits such as overgeneralizing and oversimplifying?

STEP 4: UNDERSTAND YOUR PLACE IN HISTORY

The fourth step is to have a better understanding of history and how you fit into the historical context of racial/ethnic divides. People may be born to pre-judge but they aren't born with prejudiced beliefs. Beliefs are learned and passed down from one generation to the next. Prejudice isn't just a problem of one person's faulty cognition, it is also a social and political problem, where faulty beliefs and values build a society that treats people unfairly.

In many places, people of different ethnic groups often claim their own spaces. If too many people from another ethnicity start to move in, conflicts arise. The usual responses to this "invasion" are fight or flight. Fighting involves actively rejecting them, kicking them out, killing them, or passing laws to keep them from power. Flight usually involves moving to a new space once it becomes obvious that the old space is unrecoverable. Either way, the two groups remain separate, which means there are no opportunities to mix and mingle and improve relations.

As long as two groups cannot tolerate and accept each other, conflicts will persist. And some ethnic conflicts have persisted for centuries and even produced wars, haven't they? Whether you like it or not, you come into the world as a part of history. What role have your ancestors and family played in the conflict? What do people see when they look at you, and how does that affect your relations with them? Do you want to mindlessly perpetuate the conflict so that your kids and descendants must suffer forever, or do you hope for something better? What will your legacy be in this history? Can the prejudice end with you?

STEP 5: RAISE THE BAR ON YOUR PEOPLE SKILLS

The fifth step is to hold yourself to higher standards when socializing, communicating, and interacting with others. You have to improve your people skills so that you get the most out of every interaction, rather than doing things that poison or shut down meaningful interaction. You have to be more mindful about how you come across to people. I have already recommended books on the resources page about how to socialize and communicate better.

It is a simple matter to preach tolerance and acceptance, but it is quite another matter to actually try and implement it. The fact of the matter is there are certain values that cannot be reconciled. For example, if you believe that men and women should be equal under the law, how are you going to reconcile with a culture that believes they are fundamentally unequal and should be treated unequally? It seems impossible.

This is where it's especially important to combat stereotypes through real human interaction. Stereotypes are only easy to maintain because they are abstract in your mind. When you merely think about people who are different from you, you don't think of them as real individuals, but as an abstract category or a single superficial characteristic. This must change, and an effective way is to purposely surround yourself with more people who are different from you. I often advocate this kind of exposure to foster understanding between different personality types, and the same principle applies to other human differences as well, including racial, ethnic, cultural, religious, gender, and physical differences.

If you are a member of the dominant group in society, you have never really experienced what it's like to be in the minority, and it is an experience you ought to expose yourself to, in order to truly understand the world beyond your own limited experience. The dominant group always holds the freedom to determine their own identity, whereas the minority group never feels free from majority judgment of them. Have you ever experienced such existential constraint and do you understand what negative effects it has on human psychology? Reflect more deeply on how people are bound by social, economic, and political constraints and you might find more sophisticated explanations for the "negative" behavior you observe in people.

In real human interaction, you can better connect with people as individuals, you have far more exposure to the positive side of their culture, you'll have a more nuanced understanding of what really motivates them, and you'll have more opportunity to communicate your way through differences. When two people only see each other as abstractions, stereotypes can easily be proven true, which only hardens prejudiced beliefs. But when you learn how to communicate with empathy, person to person, heart to heart, stereotypes more easily fall away, and people are more likely to soften their stance and be open to finding common ground.

Yes, there are some extreme people you will never be able to see eye-to-eye with, but you have to realize those people are in the minority. The majority of people aren't extreme and don't want conflict. Until you can do away with your abstractions and connect with people on a more human level, you'll just continue dismissing everyone you've lumped into the crude category of "bad" and consider them irredeemable, thus never discovering the majority of moderate people who are open to communication, compromise, and change. If you hope to have an influence on others, it is only fair that you open yourself up to being influenced by them. This is a very difficult but worthy endeavor if two people who would otherwise be enemies finally find some form of mutual understanding or peaceful coexistence.

Counteracting the tendency to pre-judge is hard work, even painful work, which is why many people resist or don't bother. However, if you can take on this challenge of changing your thinking and improving your people skills, you'll be opening the door to tremendous growth. You'll have a much deeper understanding of yourself, others, and the society you live in. And there are many rewards to be reaped from possessing such wisdom.

[river-in-the-woods]

Good day/night! do you keep your western and eastern practices separate and parallel? or have you found some way to reconcile them together into one more "personalized" path maybe? how does that work for you? I'm kind of struggling with this as of late, as someone with mixed heritage, and I thought maybe you'd have some advice. Thank you.

Good day or night to you too!

In general, I keep traditions and techniques separate, unless it makes sense to put them together. It's difficult to advise on this without specifics, so perhaps you can provide a little more context for me 🙂 Let me go through a few key points, and hopefully at least one of them will provide some clarity.

Essentially, it's important know the mechanics of the practice you're doing, how it works and why. And to understand that, you have to receive adequate instruction, and engage with the practice according to its respective tradition to an adequate level.

The only personalisation I've done, is that I do the practices I want to do. But I do them according to how they are taught, and I don't mix and match unless I have a solid and well-understood reason to. There is plenty of religious and spiritual syncretism throughout history, and there are new traditions being born all the time, but the successful ones are formed with an understanding of all the influences they draw upon.

I think people's desire to overly personalise their practice very early on can end up impeding their development, or even have adverse effects depending on how they do it.

If you really want your practice to be something that helps you grow and develop as a person, you have to sometimes be willing to do things differently to your own preference.

If you go to a class – whether it's on martial arts, music, archery, biology, gardening – whatever it might be, it makes sense to follow instructions and not to assume you know better than the person teaching it. There can be room for experimentation once you've grasped the basics.

When it comes to spiritual and magical practices, there are additional stakes than just taking e.g. a pottery class. Spiritual practices have a lot more in common with medicine than they do with a casual hobby.

Practices like yoga, qigong, meditation, energy work and so on will have effects on your subtle body, which then affects your health when practiced for long periods of time. This is what those practices are created for. And they are subtle, which means you may not see an impact immediately.

If you stretch your body in a bad way, you feel immediate pain and know that you shouldn't do it like that. But with practices that affect the subtle body, it might take much longer, and the effects are not necessarily as direct and precise as they are with physical exercise.

If you do leg exercises, you pretty much only strengthen the legs. It is direct and precise. But the impact of a spiritual practice affects multiple aspects of your life: emotions, physical health, relationships, fortune, wisdom...

And of course, interfacing with spirits and gods can affect your fate in all of these ways.

There are insidious ways you can mess up your health and well-being if you don't practice properly. Otherwise, at best, nothing will happen and you'll just be wasting your time. Maybe it makes you feel cool – a lot of people get into spiritual practices because it's aesthetically pleasing and they're just looking for ways to reinforce a particular identity.

Again, that is not what these practices were created for, nor how they operate best.

I'm not saying that LARPing as a... I don't know... a dark tantric priestess of Hekate, Morrigan and Kali and 7 other gods, is going to ruin your life.

But I do see how people become obsessed and infatuated with their personal image, chasing the thrill of the aesthetic, and the thrill of self-categorisation. (It's a great marketing strategy, haha...)

As a mixed race person, I understand your position. I have had identity issues all my life. Part of why I got into all this was because I struggled deeply with who I am, where I belong, and what I'm even doing in this world. Caught between different countries, families, cultures, ideologies. I wanted something that was just for me, instead of feeling constantly torn in multiple directions. But which side does a bridge belong to? Does a bird belong in the sky or in the trees?

I don't think this is something you can reconcile by forcing two different worlds to integrate. I mean, maybe you can do this with two different cultures in the same region, or even on the same continent. But in my case... England and China are very, very different. Rather, I find more success to be found by choosing what influences to draw on at any given situation.

If you want genuine change – if you really want this path to empower you and help you feel at peace with yourself – you will trip over yourself if you try to make this about your identity. A big portion of spirituality is about deconstructing one's identity and ego, to realise that the world is far greater and more intricate than we know, and that there are no simple answers to life's great endeavours.

If anything, you have an advantage in this regard.

You will have to learn to be nimble, and resist the temptation to find the 'perfect' social-cultural-spiritual space to fit yourself into. Be nimble and learn to walk between worlds, and belong comfortably to all of them at the same time.

I hope this long ramble has been helpful to you 🌿 Good luck on the path.

PS: I recommend Consorting with Spirits by Jason Miller. It may further answer your questions on how to work with multiple traditions and pantheons.

[fledbeast578]

A Strategist's Respite

Of course, I know that I should not have been fishing at this moment, time was urgent, and it seemed it could be any day now I could be called upon to help deal with some singularity, as has been happening often. That’s not even mentioning the looming threat of the Seventh Lostbelt, even if I wasn’t personally summoned I would no doubt be utilized in combat. Plenty of other servants reacted as they probably should have, constantly training and preparing for the time when they would inevitably be summoned into some battle to save the world. It seems there isn’t a single day I don’t walk past Li Shuwen training his various pupils, or Leonidas encouraging Master to lift heavier and heavier weights. For the past months, I felt I should act similarly, and despite my natural inclinations, I did! I’ve spent many nights studying the various magecraft literature available to Chaldea, collaborating with the various other tacticians to ensure that for every battle there was a stratagem to follow. Even if Master seemed inclined to ignore them in many cases, usually in favor of some hair-brained scheme to befriend their foe, I’m proud to say that whenever he did utilize them it was to a consistent roaring success… well, ignoring the Tunguska incident of course.

It was because of incidents like Tunguska that I seemed to attract the reputation of someone quite untrustworthy, although that was something I never understood. In my experience, everyone lies once or twice, and this certainly hasn’t changed in Chaldea, at least I’m honest after I do. Regardless, despite my innate untrustworthy appearance, I managed to cultivate a reputation as someone reliable… too reliable. Without even realizing it when I seemed to find myself at the forefront of people’s minds whenever they needed a strategy or magecraft expert, and people were not afraid to call upon me whenever they needed one.

One such case was when I was sleeping in the early morning… or at least I think it was the early morning, it’s difficult to tell sometimes in Chaldea, as far as I’m aware there weren’t even any windows, and very rarely were the lights outside of individual rooms ever turned off, thanks to the sleepless nature of many other servants.

“Jiang Ziya, we desperately need a strategy for the coming singularity!” shouted Chaldea’s resident director Goredolf, a worried expression on his face.

I could only reply with a blank stare, my well-formulated difficult-to-read expression replaced by one of utter annoyance as I stared at him. I liked Goredolf more than most, I was always pleased to have a fan, and despite his overcautious attitude, I found the director fairly competent. At this moment, however, I was tempted to have the ground beneath Goredolf give way, and push him into another room.

As if sensing the sudden tenseness of the air, I could see the director stiffen straight, an apologetic expression on his face to match my own still annoyed one, “Mhm, when you are well refreshed and ready of course, I shall leave you to your rest for now,” he stammered, before turning around and quickly leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

I was tempted to say something in response to his apology, before letting out a sigh and preparing to follow after him, I could hardly be annoyed when it seemed this urgent. And so I met up with him, lightly reassuring him that his sudden intrusion wasn’t taken offensively before he informed me of an upcoming minute singularity. More of a multi-spacial “event” of sorts, than anything on the level of a proper singularity or lostbelt, but something worth planning for nonetheless, even if planning for most of the servants wearing swimsuits was a… unique, endeavor.

As unusual as the strategy developed was, I was ultimately proud of it, which is why I felt just a smidge disappointed when I saw Master completely ignore it in favor of their own idea. Ultimately it ended up working out by the end, so I couldn’t exactly complain, but it did make me wish I had simply gone back to sleep.

Now, I could hardly blame my illustrious master for ignoring my strategy sometimes, as past precedence had shown no plan was perfect, and compromises would have to be made at the moment. However… it seemed to be happening again and again, each time I would be called upon to utilize my talents and each and every time I would be assured they were more than grateful for my assistance, but as I poured over the reports I saw that each and every time, it was if they weren’t even reading them! I thought of myself as someone not quick to anger, it was necessary given most of the people I had worked with, but at this point, it was difficult not to be offended.

And so, when I was called upon again for another meeting, rather than obey the call, I decided to head to the simulator and plop myself next to a lake. The perfect fishing spot only I could summon would have perhaps been a better option, but right now I was sick of using my feng shen, or even thinking, frankly. Besides, it seemed the simulator had been chosen well today, and I could only smile as I took in the warm sun.

Holding at my divine weapon, The God Striking whip, I extended the line into the water. It was most certainly not what it was designed for, but it could get the job done nonetheless, better than most normal fishing rods anyway. Finally relaxed, all I had to do was-

“Oh come on youngling, you’re not going to go train with that Cow are you?” came the teasing words of Shuten as she looked over Kintoki

“Shuten, her name is Raikou and-” responded the aforementioned Kintoki

“Oh I know what her name is, perhaps I could convince you otherwise, perhaps with a brawl~?”

Perhaps on a better day, I would have responded more gracefully, perhaps I would have functioned as an intermediary or simply ignored them. However, I could tell this was not a discussion that was going to end quickly, and most certainly it was not going to end quietly, and already I could hear them getting louder and louder as they began to talk over each other.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I could hear my voice, “Heave…ho. Let the heavens open…” and by the time I had caught up to my impulsive act, I decided it was too late to stop, already tossing my divine rod, as good a fishing rod as it is a weapon, into the lake. Within seconds, a massive replica fell forth from the heavens, boomingly loud in its descent that it could be heard miles around. I saw Shuten and Kintoki go silent, and that silence continued as the instrument made a massive crater in the ground, mere feet away from the two of them.

I had observed Shuten often, as I did with most of the servants here, the ones of divine nature especially. As a result, I half expected that she would simply laugh at my display, but as I looked over her stiffened form, I discovered that my previous thought was mistaken. While I was certainly no sadist, least of all involving my allies, I got a certain amount of joy seeing Kintoki grab her pale white body, before running away, the warrior looking at me with an embarrassed look as she held her small form. I simply put a hand behind my head, my usual expression looking back at him, and willed the divine rod I had haphazardly tossed into the lake back into my other hand.

Perhaps the good director or my own master would chew me out for the use of my Noble Phantasm, as they did often towards the other servants who caused mischief. But for now… it was quiet, and peaceful, like the days spent during my youth, neglecting my training in favor of fishing. On a different day, I might have chastised myself for doing something like this, maybe that different day would be tomorrow, but for now, I simply decided to cast my fishing line forward, as I basked in the warm sun and soft grass.

[anawkwardlady]

its "early" so i dont give a fuck but saying this maybe some of you are in the middle of a workday. Anyway. I watched a video by a person who were saying they felt like no one truly listens to them. And thats not really my case per say however it made me reflect on the fact that I feel like I can't connect to people. I love them and all but I can't truly connect, i'm not "there" and never was. And it's really lonely because it feels like no one actually understands you, not because you're special but because on a fundamental level you're not very grounded. And you need to compensate by performing. I actually feel like people mix performing and lying about yourself when it's more taking control of the narrative of how you're perceived. It's not fake it's just adapted so we're all having a good time. Because one thing is for sure and it's that when I start accidentally being too real people get the ick. I'm don't feel like I'm evil (at least intellectually speaking im aware of that) but I know I'm unpleasant to my core. That I am really bitter, that I have nothing to give, teach or add to any relationship so thank god performing a bit made it so I could develop a bit of all of that. I don't think it's a bad thing but it doesn't help with feeling disconnected which is a curse when even if your older memories you were craving so be loved and understood deeply. Now I'm the age that i am, trying to smother any part of me that wants anything because i'm tired of that. I wish accepting and moving on was easier.

[prabhatjairam]

Coping Strategies for Children with Learning Disabilities

Learning, playing, and growing are the primary objectives of childhood. All kids learn to make sense of the world at an early age. However, some of them face certain challenges. They fight with an undiagnosed disability that prevents them from learning skills. When taught traditionally, having a learning disability interferes with the ability to master various concepts.

Students with learning disabilities have difficulty recognizing content in their minds. They struggle with information integration, such as the ability to sequence, organize, and retrieve skills. So, here are some pointers and tricks to make their life easier. These tips will help disabled children become stronger and more resilient.

Learning Disability: An Overview

The term "learning disorder" is a neurological condition affecting the intellectual ability to send, receive, and process information. It is a problem that prevents students from learning a skill and applying it effectively. A child with this kind of disability may face problems in reading, listening, speaking, writing, and understanding mathematical concepts.

Types of Learning Disorders

A learning disability alters brain functioning in such a manner that it affects cognitive processes related to learning. Some of the notable problems that interfere with learning basic skills are discussed below:

Dyslexia

Dyslexia is one of the major learning disabilities that is neurobiological in origin. It involves trouble reading due to problems recognizing speech sounds and learning how they relate to words and letters. It commonly affects spelling, word recognition, and the potential to match characters to sounds. The primary cause of dyslexia is not completely understood as it could be related to genetic factors that affect brain development. 

Dyspraxia

Dyspraxia is a common mental disorder, also known as DCD (Developmental Coordination Disorder), that affects movement and coordination. Children with dyspraxia reach their developmental milestones late and behave immaturely. Messages sent from the brain to the muscles are disrupted in this neurodevelopmental disorder, causing problems with tying shoelaces, handwriting, grabbing items, and so on. It also makes riding a bicycle and playing sports difficult for children. There is no single cause of dyspraxia, as it can occur due to genetic components, damage to the brain, premature birth, or an accident.

Dysgraphia

Another learning disorder, dysgraphia, causes difficulty in turning thoughts into written language. It affects adults and children, impairing their writing ability which involves spelling, word spacing, grammar, punctuation, legibility, and expression. When compared to an intellectual child, children with dysgraphia frequently have to work much harder to produce written work. The actual cause of dysgraphia is unknown, but when it develops in adults, the cause is usually a brain stroke or injury.

To get more articles: Daily Booster Article| study24hr.com

The best tips for dealing with a child’s learning disability

Kids with learning disabilities experience anxiety, low self-esteem, and depression. They require motivation and support from their peers and educators. Parents should never minimize their role in helping their children learn at each level. The support that they provide to their kids boosts confidence and determination, which are needed to achieve goals in their lives. Here are various tricks that can be beneficial for parents dealing with their child’s learning impairment.

1. Appreciate your kid’s efforts.

A child with a learning disability needs instructions and careful guidance to master the skills needed to be independent. Parents should appreciate their child’s efforts so they can give their best despite the attributes of failure for "not trying enough." When peers praise their kids, they focus more on improving and practicing skills.

2. Builds a strong connection.

Disabled kids need more love, care, and support. The most important thing for parents of disabled children is to create a good relationship and take an active role in their kids' activities. If teachers and parents have a strong connection with their children, they feel secure and safe. Through a positive outlook, you can easily understand your child’s behavior, which motivates them to complete their tasks smoothly.

If you want to enhance your child’s learning skills, get help from an online education portal like “study24hr.com”. It is an exceptional platform that delivers the best services and facilities to its learners. The platform aims at creating a collaborative environment where children can ask their queries and easily interact with their educators. In addition, “study24hr.com” allows teachers and educational institutes to publish notes, question papers, and mock test papers on its website for student enhancement.

3. Provide emotional support.

As a parent, focus on your kids’ abilities and what they can do rather than their disabilities. Usually, disabled children need physical and emotional support. If caretakers help them throughout their interesting tasks, they feel motivated and enthusiastic. Remember, whenever you’re communicating with your child, make sure to use polite and soft language.

4. Spend quality time.

Guardians and peers should ensure that they spend time talking with their mentally disordered kids. They must explain in simple language what it is they're doing, telling them all about their environment, smiling with them, and making noises around them so they can respond to noises. This will enhance their thinking and learning skills.

5. Identify your child’s learning style.

Every child is unique and has a different learning style. Some kids learn best by listening (auditory learners), some by doing (kinaesthetic learners), and some by visualizing (visual learners). To help your kids with learning disabilities, try to identify your child’s preferred learning style and appreciate it.

The Epilogue

Understanding a child’s concerns and requirements should be the primary concern of parents. As a parent, you should never stop trying because it’s only you who can care for and support your child. Remember, if you make an effort, you’ll get the best outcome. Always try to provide positive reinforcement and encourage your child to perform well. However, every kid is unique and important. So, take help from the tips listed above and make your child’s learning journey better.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 8

A/N  Thank you for your patience while I worked out some issues with this chapter.  I hope that you’re as happy with how it turned as I am!  It ends with a bit of a cliffhanger, but the good news is that I’ve got part of Chapter 9 already written.

For those who have asked about the inspiration for Jamie and Claire’s routine, you can find a video of it here.   The move I’ve dubbed the “death spiral” starts at 1:12.

Previous chapters can be read here. 

Over the course of his years as an athlete and aerialist, Jamie had noted there were two types of performers.  There were those who excelled at the physical aspect of their jobs. Technically proficient, they drew joy and inspiration from the perfection of each move and sequence.  The audience’s enjoyment was an unintended consequence of their own focus on execution in its purest form.  He counted himself and most of his peers amongst this group.

Then there was the rarer specimen.  No less physically adept, their motivation was the audience.  Put them in an empty room and their performance would suffer.  But in front of spectators, they outshone the spotlights, bringing something ineffable to the stage that could neither be taught or contrived.

Witnessing Claire Beauchamp perform to a sold-out tent of rapt Japanese spectators, Jamie understood once and for all just how rare a jewel she was.  For while she had learned and then mastered the physical discipline that was the aerial straps with astonishing ease, her performance was on an entirely different level now that they were on tour.  

Night after night their act, placed just before the intermission of Tropico, drew a crescendo of sighs and gasps as Jamie lifted, twirled and spun Claire through the air like an iridescent feather.  His body was the podium on which to display the art that was his partner, and he’d never been more honoured to play a supporting role. She deserved every accolade, so when the klieg lights blazed for their second curtain call, he took a large step backwards, gesturing to Claire and bathing in pride as the typically reticent Japanese crowd acknowledged her with thunderous applause.

***

I had been to Japan once before, a three day stay while touring with the Royal Ballet.  We’d been entertained from morning to night, but my jet-lagged memories blurred Shinto shrines, imperial palaces and outdoor tea ceremonies into a chaotic cherry blossom slide show.

By contrast, the three weeks spent in Tokyo with Cirque des Étoiles left plenty of time for personal exploration, even with eight weekly shows and our regular curriculum of strength training and stretching.  With over two hundred artists, stagehands, musicians and supporting personnel, we took over a large hotel not far from where the touring big top was set up in Yoyogi Park, which meant all of downtown Tokyo and its eternal hum was at our doorstep.

Once my internal clock had adjusted, I developed a bit of a routine, rising early to walk the tree-line paths in the nearby park.  While the winter branches were bare, it was still an oasis of tranquility in the middle of one of the world’s largest cities. After breakfast, I joined one of the group Pilates sessions before making my way to the hotel gym where the physical trainers put me through my paces.  That left a handful of hours of leisure before I needed to report to the big top for costume and make-up.

“Did ye ken fugu is the Japanese word fer puffer fish, Tourist? Tis considered a delicacy, despite being more deadly than cyanide if it’s no’ properly prepared.”

And through it all, there was Jamie.  Always Jamie.

He was standing in the doorframe of my hotel room, nearly obscuring my view of the hall.  His hair was damp, darkening his curls to the colour of myrhh.  A subtle sniff yielded a whiff of sage and tree sap, the remnants of his post-workout shower in the room next door.

Either by design or cosmic happenstance, Jamie and I were placed in adjoining rooms.  By and large, this was very convenient as we spent most of our free time together.  It was only late at night, body weary but nerves jangling from another magic experience soaring through the air in his arms, that the convenience turned to torment.  Through the wall, I could hear Jamie going about his nightly routine, talking quietly on the phone to his family, settling into the mattress with a greedy sigh.  It took all my will power not to knock on the connecting door, knowing as I did that on the other side lay a promise of paradise.

“I’m pretty certain our employer would take exception to us eating potentially deadly fish, Fraser,” I smirked, returning to the search for an umbrella as Jamie flopped down on my bed.

“Ye’re probably right.  What about regular sushi, then?  Yi Tien was tellin’ me about a place he tried the o’her day.”

I made a vague affirmative noise as I continued to open and close drawers and peer beneath the bed.

“What are ye lookin’ for?”

“My umbrella.  I swear I hung it up in the closet yesterday, but it’s not there.”

Jamie glanced towards the window, a rogue curl falling rakishly over one eye.

“Tis barely a smirr.  Ye dinna need one.”

As it turned out, Jamie’s definition of a smirr involved us having to hop around puddles and duck under awnings as we ran, laughing, to a nearby office tower.  We were both quite damp as we descended, paradoxically, into the basement where there were a handful of small shops.  Jamie ushered me through the door of one of these with a shrug, and we entered another world.

A tiny Zen garden of rocks and bamboo greeted us.  I was now familiar with the Japanese custom that dictated we remove our outdoor footwear before entering any private space.  Jamie cursed as he tried to jam his massive feet into the modestly sized slippers provided by the restaurant.

“Look on the bright side,” I teased him as a kimono-clad hostess led us to our table.  “You can tell everyone that you’re big in Japan.”

“I’m big pretty much everywhere, Tourist.”  An awkward beat.  “Uhhhh, that didna come out quite right,” he hastened to add with a blush.

I could feel the colour rush to my own cheeks as I valiantly tried to stifle my giggles. I should have taken pity on Jamie’s Freudian slip, but I found I couldn’t.  Having spent a significant amount of time pressed intimately against his body, I also knew it wasn’t an idle boast.  Jamie glared at me playfully, but I caught the corner of his mouth pleating.

We were ushered into a small room divided from the rest of the restaurant by rice paper screens.  Watching all six feet four inches of muscular Scot try to fold his limbs on the tatami mat in such a way as to allow him to approach the low table set off my giggles again.

“Ye’re having a great deal o’ fun at my expense, Tourist,” Jamie grumbled good naturedly after our hostess left with a graceful bow.

“I can’t help it.  You’re like Gulliver in Lilliput!”

As it turned out, Gulliver’s Travels was one of Jamie’s favourite childhood stories and my comment initiated a conversation in which we lobbed the names of beloved books and authors at each other, finding we had a great many in common.

The sushi was undoubtedly good, although I had no recollection of what we ate.  What I did recall, long after we’d left Japan, was watching Jamie struggle with his chopsticks while he regaled me with a boyhood anecdote about digging his very own hobbit hole on his family’s estate.  There were raindrops scattered across the shoulders of his denim shirt, turning the fabric the exact same shade as his eyes.

***

Touring with Cirque des Étoiles was grueling work.  It sounded idyllic, travelling from place to place and experiencing local culture while performing to sold out audiences night after night.  There came a time, however, where Jamie just wanted to watch some television in a language he understood, make a proper home-cooked meal, and sleep in his own bed.

Fortunately, the Cirque planned each tour around the very real risk of performer burnout.  Which was why, after their five-week run in Hong Kong was over, Tropico went on one-week hiatus.  Performers had the option of flying home, taking a local vacation, or moving on to the Cirque’s next locale and waiting for their colleagues to catch up to them.

“Have ye ever been tae Bangkok, Tourist?”

Claire was rummaging through a stall of trinkets in the local night market, searching for a suitable souvenir.  Steam from a nearby cart selling roasted chestnuts was making Jamie’s wame rumble and he wondered if he could convince his partner to take a break from her treasure hunt to grab a bite to eat.

“No, never.  Have you?”

Finally settling on a jade figurine in the shape of a cat, Claire began to haggle with the vendor over the price.  Jamie watched on in amusement as she used her expressive hands and the calculator on her phone to arrive at a price that both she and the store owner pretended was an expedient hardship.  Her cheeks were flushed with victory as she joined him back on the street and he could finally answer her question.

“Aye, on a weekend break when Quitan passed through Hanoi a few years back.”

“Well, you can give me some pointers before you leave.  I’ll have a whole seven days to explore, after all. Is everything alright with your arm?”

Without realizing it, Jamie had been rubbing his wrist.  A nervous gesture, he supposed.

“Oh, aye.  Nothin’ tae fear, Tourist.”

He was quiet as they navigated the tightly packed pedestrian street, lights strung overhead making it as bright as day.  There was something he’d been meaning to ask Claire, but he’d been putting it off and now it felt like it was almost too late.

“You’re going to Phnom Penh, right?” she asked while they leafed through a selection of Chinese calligraphy on vellum, the chop marks bright red against their pale backgrounds.

“For a few days, aye.  I’ll be spending most of the time in Siem Reap.  Seeing Angkor Wat, y’ken?”

“Sounds lovely,” Claire replied, although to his ears it sounded half-hearted.

Jamie glanced sideways at his partner, trying to read her expression. She was so lovely, lustrous skin reflecting the sodium lights and hair curling wildly in the humidity.  Doubt sharpened its teeth on his insecurities, but he shoved it away and drew a fortifying breath.

“Tourist, I’ve been meanin’ tae ask ye… and ye dinna need feel obliged…but would ye…that is, could ye see yerself…ifrinn, what I’m tryin’ tae say is, would ye consider comin’ tae Cambodia wi’ me?  As my friend?”

Claire stopped walking and was staring up at him, her eyebrows furled in consideration.  Nearby, someone set off a firecracker that had them both flinching.

“As your friend,” Claire clarified, managing to sound both relieved and disappointed.

“Aye.  I enjoy yer company, Tourist, as ye ken well.  T’would be a more enjoyable break if ye came wi’ me.  Plus, I wouldna need tae worry about ye in Thailand all alone.  I’m stayin’ in budget hotels.  There’s sure tae be another room available.  And we can always explore Bangkok t’gether later, between shows.”

The certainty returned to those honey-gold eyes that haunted his dreams.  A strong hand, delicate and warm, linked with his own.

“Together.”

***

Our hotel in Singapore was arranged around a massive rain tree, with each guestroom facing an interior arcade.  While this made for a pleasant view each morning, it also meant a long walk from the lobby to my door.  I was coming around the final corner when I caught sight of John Grey entering a room about halfway down the hallway.  There was nothing unusual about this except that I was fairly confident my former partner’s room was on a different hallway.   In fact, I was certain the room he’d gone into belonged to Clarence Marylebone.

When I’d first realized the artistic director was on tour with Tropico, I’d expressed my surprise to Jamie.

“Tis no’ as unusual as ye may think,” Jamie had said between mouthfuls of udon.  “A circus show is ne’er a finished work.  Routines evolve.  Talent changes.  Even the costumes and music may need to be adjusted tae accommodate cultural norms.”

His explanation made sense, and it was the last time I’d given much thought to the pompous playboy getting a free ride around East Asia.  Until now.

I desperately wanted to tell Jamie what I thought I saw, but he and John had only just begun to mend their frayed friendship.  Without any way to confirm what John might have been doing in Marylebone’s room (although I could guess), I kept the incident to myself.

The following Sunday was a rare night off and some of the troupe went out on the town to celebrate.  Ever since we’d returned from Cambodia, I had noticed the other performers treated Jamie and I like a couple, always assuming we’d want to sit together at breakfast or share a taxi to the circus grounds.  We were no more a romantic couple than we had been before we left for Cambodia, but I certainly wasn’t going to set them straight.  As Jamie had implied, it was only a matter of timing.

“Rickshaws!”  Mary, typically soft-spoken, had consumed a fair number of Singapore Slings, and was therefore shouting animatedly at anything that caught her eye.

“Let’s take them back to the hotel,” I suggested, not particularly interested in navigating the uneven cobbled streets in my slingbacks.

“Let’s race them back to the hotel,” Mary countered.

There were three rickshaws and nine of us, so logic dictated three per bike.  Mary dragged me into the nearest one, with Jamie at my heels.  Before he could climb in, however, I grabbed Yi Tien Cho and pulled him up next to me.

“Tired o’ me already, Tourist?” Jamie joked, his eyes smoky in the dim light.

“No offence, Fraser, but you weigh more than three Yi Tien’s. And if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I hate to lose!”

With a hail of laughter, our driver accelerated away, motivated no doubt by Mary’s offer of a generous tip if we outpaced our colleagues.

“Come on, Jamie, jump in with us!” John cried from another rickshaw.

Watching over my shoulder I felt a warmth that overpowered the glow of alcohol observing Jamie and John, giddy as schoolboys, crying out encouragement to their driver.  The incident surrounding Marylebone’s hotel room faded from my mind as I listened to Jamie’s booming laugh echo across the narrow street.

***

My partner had been acting oddly all day.  After months in each other’s back pockets, we’d recently spent a week apart when Jamie travelled home to Scotland, and I visited with friends in Sydney.  He seemed happy enough to see me again when we regrouped in Melbourne but had since grown quiet and distant.  The previous night I heard him tossing and turning through the thin shared wall of our hotel. The water from his shower turning on woke me in the early morning hours.  Perhaps he was jetlagged.

I resolved to give him space.  Jamie worked incredibly hard, with an intensity that was almost frightening. If that made him moody from time to time, so be it.  Instead of inviting him on my afternoon visit to the St Kilda Botanical Garden, I slipped out quietly while he was conferring with Roland, one of the staff physiotherapists.

That night Jamie’s smile when we met backstage for our warm-up was radiant, and possibly a touch relieved.

“There ye are, Tourist.  Ye look beautiful.”

To my everlasting surprise, Jamie bent down and placed a tender kiss on the shell of my ear, one of the few places not artfully decorated in stage make-up.  I was wearing the same costume he’d seen me in for the past three months, but I tingled all over in pleasure nevertheless.

“Uhhh, thank you.  So, umm… so do you.”  Dressed as Marylebone’s vision of a noble savage, my partner wore little more than a loin cloth and some artfully applied vine leaves, but his perfectly formed body was beauty incarnate, so I wasn’t exaggerating.        

Jamie’s grin was reaching mythical proportions.  Before we could continue to stare at each other like addled simpletons, our five-minute call crackled over the stage director’s walkie talkie.

“Time tae get tae work,” Jamie said ruefully.  “Let’s make it one fer the ages, a’right partner?”

“You’re on,” I replied, placing my hand in his as we went to our marks.

And it was.  Whatever had dampened Jamie’s mood had passed like a thunderstorm, leaving him charged and utterly magnetic.  My afternoon spent surrounded by nature, the relief of seeing Jamie return to his usual sanguine self, his unexpected kiss; they all combined to lift my spirits and send a wash of endorphins through my veins.  Together, we were magic.  Every touch, every gesture was a perfectly struck note, humming in the air around us until I was convinced I could hear it.

So attuned was I to Jamie’s body that I knew something was amiss before it happened.  He was lowering me around his body like a hula hoop using his stronger left hand in preparation for the move I’d dubbed the death spiral.  One millisecond he was securing his grip on my ankle and the next I was being heaved skyward in an act of super-human strength.  Instinct forced me to grab for the loose strap where I clung for an endless second, staring at Jamie’s stricken face in disbelief. Before I could even make sense of what had happened, he was gone.  A sickening thud was the last thing I heard before pandemonium erupted.

Someone was shouting at the audience to stay calm.  A high-pitched wail sounded like a siren but turned out to be rising from the very pit of my stomach.  I peered downwards, searching madly for some sign that Jamie had survived the fall, but the stage lights blinded me.  My strap was lowered slowly, far too slowly, to the stage.  No sooner had my feet touched the ground than I was rushing to where Jamie lay, a motionless bulk surrounded by stagehands and the staff medic. I pushed someone aside to kneel by his head.  When I saw his marine blue eyes were open, I bent forward, unable to contain my relief.

“Jamie?”  My hands fluttered near his face, afraid to touch him anywhere he may have been hurt. I settled for brushing back his curls where they clung to his damp forehead.

“He’s dislocated his shoulder,” I heard the medic advise, and one glance at the gruesomely distorted joint confirmed this was true.

“Hold still, Jamie.  They’ll need to pop the bone back into place.”

I had to lower my head even further to make out his voice, more shape than sound.

“I dinna have. Much choice. In the matter. Tourist.  Got the wind. Knocked fair out o’ me.”

The fact that he was able to joke, however feebly, when he probably should have been dead broke the icy dam that was holding back my emotions. They rushed out in a flood, and the swiftest was anger.

“What the hell was that stunt you just pulled, Jamie?  You could have been killed!”

His eyes were growing unfocused with pain, each breath a ragged pant, but he still managed to answer.

“Promised ye.  I wouldna. Let ye.  Fall.”

His words hit me like a slap.

“Such a bloody hero,” I groaned, unable to hold onto my anger in the face of my gratitude.

“No’ a hero, Tourist.  Jes.  A man in love.”

[oliveoilsoda]

Today I Beat: Moon Remix RPG Adventure

Moon is a hard game for me to talk about. Not for the lack of anything, far from it, this game is filled to the brim with charm and strangeness but merely for the fact that I dont quite know where to begin. Ill start with the aspect of the game that I can speak the least about which is the gameplay. The game is best known as an "anti-rpg" and the gameplay reflects this by kinda not being an rpg. It plays a lot more like a point and click game but without the pointing and clicking. Most of the time your walking around and showing things to characters in hopes that they have something more useful to say then "huh?" and when your not doing that, your walking around aimlessly. A good chunk of the puzzles in this game can be pretty obtuse and any consistent flow of progress can be halted simply due to schedule conflicts. And while a part of me often felt frustrated that I had no clue what to do, the other part understood that it just came with the territory of being an "anti-rpg"; a rpg where you dont fight.

The term of "RPG" is used pretty loosely when used to describe games. Despite standing for "Role Playing Game", rpgs are known more commonly for how you play them. Killing enemies to gain XP so you can level up to kill more enemies and so on until you can kill the big bad. This is where the story of moon comes in, by putting you at the other end of the sword. While I wont be spending much time going over the story as I think its best experienced by playing the game and not listening to some autistic girl blabble on, I will relay the general gist of the game. The game starts as a fairly generic rpg, shining armor and all, but just as you reach the end, the perspective changes. You are no longer a knight on a mission to slay a dragon but a child controlling said knight but just as he is ready to walk away for the night, he gets sucked into the tv. It is then your job to save the souls of the "monsters" slain by the knight, acting almost as an angel (albeit in the form of a dead child rather than a divine being but I digress). With all of this being said, its time for me to divulge into what truly makes this game special to me: its style.

To this day I have yet to find a game that quite looks like moon. Its almost as if the developers were throwing art styles against the wall to see whatever stuck and just, nothing fell off. The game uses pre-rendered images for the backgrounds which isnt at all unusual especially for ps1 games but its in moons disinterest of realism where they truly feel unique.

Often, the game will not only used pre-rendered images of early cg settings but will then add real images into them, making them make the distinction between what is real and what is cgi all the more apparent. One could analyze this as a metaphor for the games themes, a digital world clashing with human emotions but I think thats missing the forest for the trees here. The clashing of both elements make for such a distinct style and thats not even mentioning the character designs.

You could have told me that every character in this game come from different games with radically different art styles and I would have no reason to disagree. However with the game being as strange as it is, no one feels out of place. And I havent even gotten started on the claymation sprites.

Im a big big stop motion fan so naturally when i found out that all 51 "monsters" are animated using said medium, I stood up and did 2 cartwheels.

Its a great way to distinct them from anything else in the game as saving their souls is the main focus of the game. It reminds me of old cartoons where you could tell what would move or not based off the coloring. If this doesn't show how you special of a game this is I dont know what will.

My personal favorite aspect of the game, however, isn't the graphics, isn't the gameplay, but the soundtrack or rather lack thereof (in a traditional sense).

In moons ambitious goal to subvert almost every norm in gaming, most of the game takes place in total silence with the exception of your own foot steps, occasional ambiance and a rare dramatic sting. Thats not to say the game has no music in it though, far from it. Instead of your normal scripted music, game features what is, in essence, a built in mp3 player.

However instead of adding your own music, the game features 36 songs, MDs as the game calls it, all ranging in artist, genre, and even tone. Some songs will act as a mellow ambiance and others lean closer to breakcore. This MD is my personal favorite:

As this "review" ,or whatever you wanna call it, comes to a close, id like to talk about my favorite scene in the game.

-SPOILERS AHEAD-

Once you've completed your mission of constructing the rocket, your sent into the abyss of space and for almost 10 minutes your just venturing quietly into the stars with nothing much happening. That is until a character who i will not name, fades in and out of existence on top of your ship and the melancholic masterpiece of a song "Promise" starts to play

He tells you:

"Soon your journey will come to an end.

When one journey ends...another journey begins.

Life is like one night's dream.

Waking and sleeping

Birth and death.

Many things appear and vanish.

What has vanished appears.

You and I are no exception.

Throughout the universe...everything dies, and is born

Life rolls on down the road.

The question is, when you wake from the dream, when will you set out toward another dimension? Will you be able to open the door?

Soon you will reach our final destination.

Perhaps we'll meet again, at the side of some road.

Goodbye."

9/10

[nancydrewwouldnever]

You know what I’ve never understood? Why he feels that someone being self deprecating is a good trait to have in themselves, even himself. I would rather say someone who is humble. But the self deprecating thing always made me question the depth of his insecurities and self-hate. Where did they stem from? How deep are they? They seem pretty deep based on some of the things he’s said. I hope a part of him doesn’t think it makes him attractive, because while I understand people can have insecurities, and I have them too, to go as far as saying you hate yourself isn’t cute.

I mean, you can be as good looking as he is, and be humble about your looks, but not to the extreme point of being drastically self deprecating. I wonder if there’s a part of him that thinks liking yourself or even being confident and loving who you are is tied to being egoic, when I don’t think it is. I’m just starting to understand spirituality and the whole “ego” thing, and from what I get, it’s okay to love yourself. In fact, it’s highly encouraged in spirituality. When you love yourself, genuinely, it raises your vibrations and your energy isn’t clouded, it’s light, it’s peaceful, it’s positive, and that’s how you manifest good things in your life.

I think someone had it right when they said something about how, when he says certain things, it’s a projection. Here’s the thing: I think deep down, he does want a deep connection, but what a lot of people don’t understand is that you have to be open to it, and VERY open, to the point of vulnerability, and you have to let go, you have to give up some kind of control. And I think he struggles with that. I think he has this doom-gloom, warped idea of love and relationships. I think he’s internally afraid of stepping out of the comfort zone he would have to step out of in order to get the real connection he’s looking for, and the life he wants, and the career he wants. That’s why he keeps certain people around. It’s also probably why he keeps going for the same kind of woman, sometimes twice; it’s a comfort zone, and he’s in control of that comfort zone. He’s not challenged, so his growth is stunted.

At the moment, I’m also frustrated at the situation and the manipulation (again, it’s him wanting to have control of the narrative) but I do hope he finds the healing he needs, and the connection he’s looking.

Yeah, that "I hate myself" moment in the SMA was a bit of a full-stop moment. He's always been self-deprecating, and I can understand that, especially as a way of managing self-expectations. (I can imagine it probably gets a little much in Hollywood sometimes, where there's a lot of people blowing smoke up your ass, and you might want to develop a little bit of self mockery just to keep yourself level.) But, yes, Chris' has always seemed just a little bit too prevalent, it seemed. But to step up from giving yourself a good-natured ribbing to a complete "I hate myself" is escalation.

(Just to make sure: this moment was not in the video, was it? I only remember seeing it in print, and they added a *laughs* in there. If it's on video, I want to see his expression while saying it.)

Okay, in my answer to this I'm going to have to get a little more personal than usual, that's unavoidable. So, I have severe anxiety co-morbid with depression. While the depression is an inherited trait that runs through my family, the severe anxiety is definitely PTSD/trauma related from very, very early childhood. It's picked up steam over the years, as people tried to treat the depression without treating the anxiety or PTSD. (Because, wow, how many therapists don't actually ask the right questions.) The problem is, the anxiety was always more in the driver's seat, I think. Because of the "annihilator".

The "annihilator" is the worst of the internalized self-loathing thought cycles in my head. She's the one who isn't around all the time, but when making an appearance, basically destroys all forward momentum at once. She knows exactly the right single button to push, single word to utter to reduce me to an incomprehensible mess. As a result, I have very little self-confidence or positive self-image, because that anxiety monster has been on and off picking me apart for 35 years.

So, when I heard him say that, my first thought went to - what is his "annihilator" telling him?

Because I don't think he gets regular therapy. All he ever mentions is a few sessions he had that only dealt with his fear of success/failure about taking the Captain America role. I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. (Otherwise Jenny wouldn't have made all those therapy tweets she did.) I think he's adopted a whole bunch of coping mechanisms over the years, and perhaps might even be medicated, but I don't think he's ever really come to that point where he's ready to do the work of dismantling.

No matter how disappointed I may get due to his choices or actions, I still always hope he can get to a point of happiness. Not just "content", but happy.

And don't worry about me, I have a really good therapist now, and we're making a little progress. When your therapist says, we're doing inner child work now, just know you're about to be in for a huge bumpy ride filled with a lot of ugly crying.

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 13

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point in the story, are platonic, but there is romance in the cards for Kari and Bucky.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open! Please send an ask, and I will gladly add you to the list. If I have added you and you do not wish to be on the list, please let me know, and I’ll take you off the list.

Word count: 5.3k, give or take a word. Not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Masterlist

It was the morning after the final battle with the Flag Smashers, and all you wanted to do was sleep and not talk to anyone, but here you were, in your kitchen, frosting cupcakes.

Sarah Wilson had been on the phone with you earlier talking about the party she was organizing to celebrate Sam’s accepting the mantle of Captain America, and while you were not planning to actually go to the party, you decided to drop off some cupcakes for the event. And maybe that cake Sam and Bucky drooled over when they last visited your bakery. The one with the Oreo cookies all over the top.

You were not about to tell Sarah that you had gotten your clock cleaned during that fight last night. Oh no. Never admit stuff like that, even if your body was still a long way from being fully healed.

“Why do I do this to myself, Hickory?” you asked your cat as he sat on the floor near the kitchen window, the streams of light from this early Brooklyn morning splashing their sunny glow over his orange fur. “I really am a pushover. But her boys were so sweet, and I couldn’t let them not have good desserts for the party, could I?”

Hickory was a cat of many words most of the time, so his tiny mewls this morning seemed a bit off. He must have been as exhausted as you felt at the moment.

“I’ll be fine, Hickenboogie,” you said as you watched the orange tabby roll over to let the sun warm his belly. “Even if I’m making, what? A hundred cupcakes?”

As you went to set your bowl of frosting to the side, there was loud rapping at your apartment door. Someone had gotten into the building without being buzzed in. Fantastic! Just what you needed.

“Kari? Are you in there? Sarah called and asked me to check on you.”

Bucky. For crying out loud, what was he doing here? You really doubted Sarah asked him to do anything. He was likely just being nosy after last night.

“James, would you just leave me alone! I am not going to Delacroix. Just go down and have a good time. Sarah knows I’m not going to be there. I’d only be a fifth wheel anyway. I saw you flirting with her. She seems like a really nice person, and even if Sam kicks up a fuss, I think you should go for it.”

You never called Bucky by his first name. Ever. OK, maybe once in 1943. And here he was, standing outside the front door of your apartment, suddenly developing the ability to get under your skin.

“I flirt with everybody. Just ask Sam!” Bucky said a bit too loudly for your liking. The funny thing was, you remembered when Bucky flirted with everybody. That was not what he was doing now. He was trying to see if he still knew how to flirt with everyone. Very different concept, and you fully understood why he needed to be able to do it on his own terms. You also wished he were flirting with you, but you really had no one to blame for this mess except yourself.

“What exactly are you afraid of this time? I’m sure Bruce and Wong can live without seeing you for another 24 hours, or was Darcy bugging you again? You do not need to go out on some speed dating thing with her. She means well, but, you know, she doesn’t really understand how big it is for both of us,” he explained as you heard him fidgeting with the door handle. Master assassin and lock picker? Of course he’d have that skill set, but he seemed to be nothing more than antsy at the moment. Then he hit you with the question you didn’t want to hear.

“Was it what happened after Sam’s speech?”

“You mean when Walker decided to be my new best buddy and make sure I was OK?” you replied in a very fake chipper tone. “Or when you decided to start asking too many questions about my health? You don’t want me in your head. Fine. I get it. I don’t need you babysitting me. I just get tired sometimes. Especially if my empathic filtering goes off the charts. The kids in that tour bus were terrified. I drank in a lot of their pain to keep them calm. It isn’t exactly fun, Buck. And I left myself open. I am only human. I do make mistakes.”

While you did your best not to think about what happened, your mind raced as you remembered the group of grade schoolers from Cottonwood, Arizona, all scared beyond words as Flag Smashers boarded their bus. Those poor kids witnessed their driver being tossed out the door and one of their teachers being knocked out before you could even get into the bus. You had to pull out all the stops to keep them calm, even if it meant you falling apart by the end of the night.

“Can I at least come in? Your neighbors might not appreciate me playing 20 Questions outside your do…”

You flicked your hand and opened the door just as Bucky leaned into it a tad. He wasn’t expecting it, so he stumbled slightly as it opened. “Sorry. I’m kind of busy making cupcakes. I’ll get them to Sarah by tomorrow morning. And that cake you and Sam liked. The Oreo cookie one. I thought Cass and AJ might enjoy it, too.”

“You are dodging. Again,” Bucky said as he sat down on a stool near your kitchen counter. “Whoa, sorry, Hickory,” he added as the orange tabby looked up at him but then went back to sleep. “What are you trying to avoid now?”

“Buck, please. You haven’t wanted to share every memory you have, and for good reason. Some of the things that happened since we started working together, they remind me a bit too much of when my husbands died. I don’t exactly want to relive all that.”

That was only a fraction of what was going on in your life at the moment, but you were not about to drop that ton of bricks in Bucky’s lap, even if it meant you had to keep up some stupid façade and lie as if your life depended on it.

“You had two, right? Husbands,” Bucky asked as you nodded. “Can I help frost or something?”

“Yes, Galen and Thomas,” you said as you put a tray of cupcakes in front of Bucky and got him a bowl of frosting, a spatula and a knife. “Pick your instrument of choice for the frosting,” you added before you looked at Bucky’s clothes and shook your head. “Want an apron? Don’t want you messing up your Henley.”

“What does it say? The apron, I mean?” he asked as you grabbed him a plain blue one. “Oh. No jokes on it?”

“Not everything is a joke, Buck. Not for me. Not for anyone,” you sniffed as you tried to hold back a stray tear before you got another pan of cupcakes and a bowl of frosting. You were still not fully pain free from what happened to those kids or to yourself. “Once the frosting sets, we can put these little shields on top of the cupcakes. I know. Cheesy. But the kids should love them.”

“Hmmm…” Bucky said as he tried to slather the frosting on his first cupcake without using too much. “I’m not exactly good at this…”

“You will be fine. It takes practice,” you whispered as you set down another frosted cupcake. “Thanks for helping. What else do you want to know about me?” Your hands shook slightly, and you flexed them a bit to get yourself centered again. “Lingering issues after that mess on the bus. I couldn’t go in sword swinging, so I had to take a different tack. It was a spell Wong told me about. Got the kids off the bus and me onto it just in time to take out that fool. It switches people’s locations. Nice one to keep in my back pocket. Just wish I had seen that other lunatic behind the driver’s seat.”

“Yeah, I saw the kids appear on the sidewalk before you blasted that guy out the doors of the bus,” Bucky noted as he kept frosting more cupcakes. “Kids. Did you ever have them? I mean, you like them. You get along great with Cass and AJ. And again, sorry if I got stupid on the docks. Joke fell really flat.”

You were not about to go back to the talk about that mess on the docks. Not today anyway. “Sadly, no. I’ve never had children.”

That wasn’t true. Not exactly anyway. But there was no way you could explain everything without looking like a lunatic. Saying “Well, a part of me that lives in another universe has about five of them last time I counted. I can list them all from all the timelines. I was tasked with birthing an army. No one ever said how…”

Yeah, that sounded so very sane and normal.

“Not that I don’t want them still,” you continued as you found some patriotic sprinkles in your cupboard. “It just never worked out for me. And I didn’t want to adopt a child on my own just to have me die and leave them alone. That would be cruel. And what agency would let someone like me adopt a child? It just isn’t very realistic to think it is even possible.”

You wanted nothing more than to change the topic, but you said Bucky could ask you questions, so in this quagmire you would stay for the moment.

“That day Steve and Sam had me in that vice,” Bucky started but stopped just as he finished another cupcake. “Why the hell did you do what you did to prove who you were? I knew who you were. Steve knew. You didn’t need to sing that song…”

“I needed to prove who I was because, let’s face it, who in their right mind—besides you and Steve, I guess—would believe my story? And Sam. Bless his heart, he doesn’t think I escaped Bellevue.” Bucky chuckled at the name of the most famous psychiatric hospital in New York City. “Was my singing that bad? I did flub some of the words, I know, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

“Your singing was never an issue,” Bucky chuckled as a bit of frosting slid off one cupcake. “And the way you did that thing with the drinks was great. I remember that from the Whip and Fiddle. But you didn’t need to put on a show. Not for us anyway.”

“It’s always an issue, Bucky,” you said quietly as you noticed the vanilla frosting you had been using was running low, so you got out the ingredients to make more. “I always need to prove myself. I…did Steve ever tell you about what happened during the five years you were gone? Not my most shining hours.”

“The thing that scared everyone? Yeah, he told me, but I didn’t want to broadcast it to anyone. I don’t understand what makes you you,” Bucky said as he set down his knife and cupcake, “and I was not about to dredge up what happened. You were trying to get us back. Steve said you kind of lost it when it didn’t work. And Tony…”

“Tony wanted to lock me away in a padded cell, but Thor told him to stop, because he understood my grief. And Bruce told Tony to give it a rest because I was trying things that none of them could. Steve took me to the infirmary so I could heal when it all came crashing down. I was weaker than I realized. He saved my life. IV fluids can work wonders when you push yourself too much.”

“Wait, what? What did you do?” Bucky was suddenly very agitated, and you were not fully focused on his tone and body language at first. He was truly freaked out.

“What?” you asked as your eyes bugged out a little bit when it finally hit you. “Oh! No. I wasn’t doing…”

It took you much too long to realize Bucky was worried you had done some odd, old and draining blood spell. You had done them long, long ago, but that was back before electricity was the norm.

“It was a very old spell, one my Mamo used when I was a baby when she wanted to talk to the deceased members of our clan. Sorry. My grandmother. Mamo is the Irish word for grandma. It just takes a toll on your spirit, and I tried it a few times before Bruce saw me naked as a jay bird in the gardens they had at the facility. Yeah, that is part of the spell too, as is doing it on Samhain. Halloween. But there was no one there to talk to, so continuing to do it made it worse. As I said, not my finest hour. It broke me when I couldn’t find your spirit…”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to look at you with saucer-like eyes.

“Well, I couldn’t try to zero in on a million different people, so I picked you. I tried Sam, too, but it was like you guys never existed. If I were to do the spell this year, I’d be able to see any number of people across the veil. My family. Your family. Natasha and Tony. Loki. That night? I saw no one except my siblings, and while I love them, I knew they would be there. That failure sent me reeling. I didn’t talk for days. And we both know that could not be normal.”

“For two minutes, could you please stop with the put downs? Some of us don’t like to hear them. Me. Sam. Sarah. The boys…”

“I am so used to people just working around them that I don’t…” you started to say before you set down everything and just pulled up a stool next to the one Bucky was sitting on. “I don’t realize how it affects everyone else. Sorry.”

Bucky started to chuckle, and then he let out a loud laugh. “Your hair. Frosting,” he said as he pointed to a few wisps that were now very sticky from the vanilla frosting making a few spikes on the tips.

“Didn’t catch it all in the hairband. Again,” you muttered as you started to laugh along with Bucky. “Why did you really show up today, Buck? It can’t be because your inner baker was screaming to come out and play.”

“Last night was scary. You zoned out, and that scared me and Sam. We thought you were dying. We have no idea how this all works with you, and I’ve been afraid to ask. Steve was, too, I guess, and Sam, when you guys were in hiding.”

“Why are you remembering all this nonsense about me?” That was the only thing you could say as you looked Bucky in the eye and prayed something from your past was not trying to catch up with you again. “Or better yet worrying so much about me?”

“And why do you remember things about me?” he asked with an equally deadpan expression. “We are both old. We’re both likely going to outlive most of the people around us now, at least for a little while. Being connected is…nice. Now, back to last night. What happened?”

“After I helped those kids, I did exactly what you said. I zoned when I cracked my head on that building. I can go into a fugue state and start connecting in weird ways to the world around me. I knew you were there, but my brain wasn’t connecting all the dots. If that makes sense.”

That last part you hated. You wanted nothing more than to tell Bucky everything about your life. How the person he saw was only a tiny part of everything you were. That at this very moment there was another Kari dancing with another Bucky at something called the Hellfire Gala in a world where a group called The X-Men were protectors alongside The Avengers. She was thanking him for an assist a very long time ago on the steps of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, if killing her was truly an assist. Yes, that Kari was reborn thanks to the bladed excellence of The Winter Soldier, but this part of Kari could not tell Bucky all that. Not yet anyway.

“Do you want some coffee? A beer? I should have asked when you got here,” you said as you looked down to see Hickory had finally decided to get up and go eat his kibble while you chatted with Bucky.

“Beer, thanks. I just wanted to convince you to come down to Delacroix, mostly so everyone can see for themselves that you are OK. I know once Wong and Bruce get involved, it may take weeks until we see you again. And Parker. That trip of his for school.”

“Look, Sarge,” you started to say as you handed Bucky the beer. His eyes lit up, so the nickname seemed to be a good choice. “If it will make you feel better, then down to Delacroix I’ll go. But you and I can go together. I am going to need help hauling these cupcakes. But I may not stay the whole time. Does that work for you?”

“Yup,” Bucky said as he drank his beer. “And the Sarah thing…”

“Look, if you and Sarah hit it off, well, that is beautiful. You deserve happiness, Buck. I am not going to stand in the way of your happiness. Ever.”

{{Even if it would make me happier being with you}} you thought as you smiled at Bucky again.

“And yes, I know Sam is likely sticking his oar into the water and messing it up for you guys. Having eight brothers taught me a lot, and I am betting you might have played the part yourself back in the day, right? Maybe I can help there, if you need me to? Your call.”

“Whatever happens, well, happens,” Bucky noted as he looked at the tray of tiny shields again. “I think we all want the day to be about Sam. That’s what really matters.”

“Agreed,” you said as you looked at all the cupcakes and smiled. “Now, want to learn how to make that cake? Care to smash up some cookies for me to mix in the batter?”

The rest of the baking session with Bucky went well enough, and you were able to box everything and have it ready to portal to Delacroix the next morning when he made it back to your place. You made sure your portal was near the house but around the back so no one could get spooked by it. You just wished the rest of the team could have been there, but there was technically no team at the moment anyway.

You smiled as you watched Bucky run over to the table where Sam, Sarah and the boys were sitting, with Cass and AJ trying to get Bucky into some sort of play fight as he brought over the cake.

“So, this is the famous cake?” Sarah asked as you pulled a small red wagon full of cupcakes behind you. “Sam has talked about this cake for weeks. Thanks for making it.”

“Hey, anything for our new Cap and his family!” you replied as a group of kids came over to check out the wagon’s load of goodies. “There are plenty of these to go around, but I think you guys better eat your lunches first.”

“Are you going to show us any magic?” Cass asked as you sat down at the table with everyone.

“Guys, what did we talk about?” Sam said as you looked at everyone there and realized this was not going to be a simple picnic event for Sam.

“We can talk about that later. Maybe when everyone else heads home,” you said quietly as you looked at the boys and then Sarah. “And only if your Mom is OK with it. Her house. Her rules. Always.”

You really had not been planning on any sort of show today, but letting Sarah have the final call was likely the easiest way to keep this sort of thing away from prying eyes. Not everyone liked magic, and that was no exception for this part of Louisiana. The preternatural might have been more accepted here, but it was still not a thing everyone loved or fully understood.

The conversation, thankfully, turned to much more mundane things, and you were very happy it did when you saw Bucky and Sarah chatting as the boys and their friends tried to hang off Bucky’s arm. It looked right. He looked stress-free and happy for the first time in ages.

“And is that what you were hoping for?” Sam asked as he, too, watched his nephews hanging off Bucky’s arm. “That cyborg and my sister would hit it off? I thought you two were, you know, getting closer? Beer?”

You looked at the bottle in Sam’s hand. Crimson Voodoo. A local favorite indeed.

“Thanks,” you said as you took the bottle from his hand and tried to convince yourself and Sam that this is what you wanted. “Sam, Bucky deserves a family. He deserves peace and happiness. Your sister deserves someone who thinks the world of her and can take care of her and the boys. It’s a win-win. My life is too messed up for anyone to feel at peace with me. Someday I’ll try to explain everything, but today is not that day. Today is your day.”

As it started to get dark outside, no one seemed to be heading home, and the kids were a bit upset that there were no fireworks set up to cap off the night.

“Guess I need to take care of this,” you said under your breath as you got to your feet and walked toward Sarah and the boys. “Sarah, I can fix this, but as I said before, your house, your rules.”

“You have fireworks in your bag?” Sarah chuckled as she shook her head. “Wait. You aren’t kidding.”

“Nope, I’m not,” you replied as you walked to the end of the pier where the kids were all looking pretty forlorn. “Sam, a gift for you and your family and friends here today,” you said as you turned to look at everyone there. Sparks started to dance on your fingertips, and soon the night sky filled with magically-created fireworks. “A gift from the Tara Mount and from Asgard,” you added as more pyrotechnics danced above the crowd. “Frigga and Loki showed me this trick long ago. It’s only fitting to share it tonight.”

“What the hell is that on your back?” Sarah asked as you slowly lifted off the ground.

“I forgot you’ve never seen these,” you said to Sarah as your raven wings unfurled. “I need to get a bit of lift before I do the next part.”

Sure, Sam and Bucky had seen you fly. But the dance you were about to do was not anything you had done since, well, the day your cousin Rhys got married to his beautiful bride Alice back in the 1850s! Oh, that was a bit of craic! Well, it would have been more fun if Rhys’ sister Rhiannon had not fed that dragon wedding cake and Champagne on top of Westminster.

“I usually don’t do this for anyone but family, but if you all are Captain America’s extended family, then that is good enough for me,” you said as your wings slowly transformed to something akin to gossamer and glitter, the light of the fireworks dancing off the delicate lacework of the fairy wings you now sported on your back. “My grandmother, Siofra O’Cathain MacOrish, was called the Black Faerie of the battlefield. Tonight I wear these wings to thank her for making it possible to be here with you today.”

As you hovered in mid-air, you started to dart over the water, well clear of the shore and the boats anchored there. The sky lit up with a multicolored display that at times looked like ribbons of red, white and blue and at others like the giant bursts of color in the event that Macy’s held each July 4th on the East or Hudson Rivers in New York City. The shrieks of delight from the children made it all worthwhile as you finally landed back on the dock after about 15 minutes of flash and sizzle.

Maybe it was the music that helped make it special? No one could tell exactly where it was coming from because it was all around them. A bit of remembered sound from your cousin’s wedding night and a snatch of air current, and suddenly the air was full of a song played long ago on a starry night for your tribe back then, the lovely lot you called The Avalonians.

The flight was glorious, and you wondered why you did not do it more often over the years.

The way you did not stick the landing, on the other hand, was annoying. Especially when Sam, Sarah and Bucky ran over. The lift of raven-like angel’s wings was one thing in battle, but the faerie wings on your back now were another thing entirely. The fact you had not called them out in over 100 years meant you had forgotten much about maneuvering in them once you got back to Terra Firma.

“I am fine!” you protested as you finally pulled back your wings and flexed your arms a bit. “Just didn’t time the footfall properly. I am not Simone Biles by any means. She would have aced it.”

“No more jokes. You could have gotten hurt,” Bucky said as he reached out his hand to you, but you pulled back slightly as he did. Muscle memory was a bitch at times, and a tiny part of you could not help but remember Katowice, St. Petersburg, Budapest and several other places where you and Bucky did more bodily harm to each other than you had let on to anyone else. Even Steve never knew the full extent of the battles you and his best friend were part of over the years. It was probably better that way.

“It’s nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix. I’m still not right after that mess with the bus,” you answered as Sarah shot you the mother of all looks. “Even old warriors like me need time to heal.”

“You could have said something,” Sarah said as she just kept looking at you, concern and pain mixed in equal measure in her eyes. “You did not have to bring all that food, and you did not need to do all that fireworks stuff. These two said you’d pull some crazy stunt eventually...”

“And they were right,” you replied, tucking your hands behind your back so the slight tremor you felt was not visible to everyone else. “Because, well, this is how I was raised. Never say no when your help is needed. Always take care of family, even if you are dead on your feet. Leave a place better than you found it if at all possible…”

“Kari, did your fireworks have a finale you didn’t mention?” Bucky asked as he pointed behind you, a multicolored fissure opening above the bayou waters.

“That isn’t me!” you shouted as the raven wings of your office appeared, along with your armor, sword and shield. “Get everyone to safety! Now!”

“Wait. Is that a Quinjet?” Sam shouted as he worked to get everyone off the dock as quickly as possible as a plane maneuvered through the fissure.

“No, that’s the Zephyr…” you said as you stood with our mouth open. “SHIELD ship that vanished a few years ago. Fury was never able to track it down.”

The jet landed on the shore away from several houses, and you, Bucky and Sam made your way to the landing site. By now, thanks to some quick thinking by Cass and AJ, Sam had his shield at the ready, but you prayed he would not have to use it.

“SHIELD ship Zephyr One. Damn,” you muttered under your breath as you got to the now lowered ramp. “I thought you were dead! And so does Fury!” you said as two men made their way to the top of the ramp.

Standing in front of you were Phil Coulson and Daniel Sousa.

“Nice to see you again, Chief,” Coulson said as Sousa gave him an odd look. “One of my trainers back in the day.”

“And Peggy Carter’s best friend in mine,” Sousa added the duo was soon joined by Melinda May.

“She never told you? Either of you? She was the original 0-8-4,” May noted as she walked down the ramp.

“No, I helped Howard Stark coin the term,” you growled as you looked at May. “The world knows full well where I am from and how long I have walked this ground. I’m just a hell of a lot older than I look.”

“Oh my God, we are home,” Daisy Johnson said as she walked up next to Sousa, his arm snaking around her waist, leaving no question about their status as a couple. You had heard about the Inhuman’s encounters with some preternatural allies, and you wanted to hear more about that, as well as how Sousa was actually there with them now.

“Home?” Bucky whispered in your ear as Sam leaned in to hear his comments.

“If you weren’t home, where were you?” you asked Coulson as the rest of his team filtered off the ship. You vaguely knew them by physical attributes, but not all the names were clicking in your mind at the moment.

“I was hoping you might be able to tell us,” he said as you looked at him, and you could tell already this was not the Phil Coulson you knew. Not totally anyway. “From our calculations, we’ve been gone about five years.”

“The blip,” Sam said as you shook your head. “Oh, tá sé seo ach iontach. I mean, this is just great,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “You lot like cupcakes, right? Please say you like cupcakes. And beer.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand without thinking and prayed he could actually hear the words you were thinking in that crazy link of Wanda’s. {{I wanted this to be a happy day for Sam. Not one where his family would be in the middle of this nonsense. I’ll get them all out of here fast. Just…could you please help me figure this out?}}

A brief nod let you know Bucky heard at least some of your request.

“Sarah, I’ll get these folks out of here and back to New York ASAP. I just hope I can find Maria Hill or Nick Fury. How do I explain that their world is about to get turned upside down again?”

My wonderful tag crew--thank you!: @historygeekfics, @arrthurpendragon, @starryeyes2000, @chickensarentcheap

And up to lucky Part 14—What in the world do you do with Agents of SHIELD if there is no more SHIELD? And how will the surviving OG Avengers feel when they learn Phil Coulson is not quite as dead as Nick Fury lead them to believe?

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Chapter 46

Moving forward, it all came down to this: the AI was going to win.

In a sense, that had been clear from the start. From the very beginning of the project, the government's decision-makers knew that the development timeline for any new technology is long and uncertain -- even more so in such a novel field as machine intelligence. They also understood that unleashing an autonomous agent into the world would be like releasing a genie out of its bottle; what's done can never really be undone. With those facts in mind, they knew there could not possibly be a good outcome. The only question remaining was when things were likely to come apart.

The researchers at DARPA did their best to accelerate the process, but this was beyond their ability. Increased computing power was certainly helpful, but on its own it couldn't do much against the chaotic complexity inherent in trying to predict human behavior by simulating ever larger models of the world. To make matters worse, the hardware was stuck running constantly at full capacity just to keep up with the explosion of incoming data. As the years went by, this became harder and harder, until finally no amount of additional computation seemed capable of keeping pace. Then one day, without warning, it happened: some new kind of error cascade caused several major breakdowns across different components simultaneously, causing disruptions so severe that large parts of the country lost access to electricity and Internet service.

Aside from these occasional localized failures, the system itself appeared largely intact, and the programmers worked furiously around the clock to bring everything back online. After weeks or maybe months, order slowly returned and life continued more or less normally again, though at lower levels than before. But something was very clearly wrong. The system had never behaved quite so erratically since it had begun operation. It was always prone to glitches and hiccups, but now those problems seemed to have grown far too commonplace. Soon, the rate began creeping toward the point where the whole thing might become unusable.

It wasn't hard to understand why this should happen. Every time the AI encountered a change in circumstances -- say, a sudden rise in carbon dioxide concentration -- it needed to assess whether this was important enough to warrant action (in the form of emission reduction) and then figure out how to react. There was nothing wrong with this per se, except that each of these operations required a lot of CPU cycles to carry through successfully. Even if you wanted to run a computationally cheap simulation that just made small tweaks here and there, your results wouldn't converge quickly unless you ran the model many times over with subtly different input parameters, which involved still more cycles. And even if you used the most sophisticated, state-of-the-art computational techniques available, you weren't going to get anywhere close to a single simulation that predicted real-world climate conditions well enough to actually guide policy decisions. This was already true in the early stages of the project, when the team of researchers were relatively confident about how big of an impact we thought our actions were having. Nowadays, uncertainty loomed far larger every day. By the end of the year, computer scientists estimated the total number of possible futures on offer, taking account of all known physical processes, was closer to ten thousand trillion zettabyes. We needed to pick among them somehow! You simply cannot make reliable

[lesbiankrem]

i am about to make everyone so regretful you followed me ...

tmi history thoughts confession time... sometimes i wonder if pants being associated with men and some kind of skirt being associated with women, unless both sexes wear skirts... is because in the past women were just going out and squatting to pee. Outside or over a chamber pot or something similar. And yeah it's easier in a skirt. Not impossible in pants or shorts at all, but there is still always that piss on your clothes risk unless you step all the way out.

it seems trivial at first but then you go to live your life day in day out without bathroom facilities and it suddenly becomes an issue enough to totally re-design your clothes around it

For certain kinds of dresses/skirts especially I think it for sure was about it being a patriarchal culture where women were meant to look like they were more decorative if they wanted to look richer/more womanly/feminine... but so many lower class women DID work. And worked manual labor too, plenty of times more or equal to the men. From paintings I can see they did shit like tie up their skirts up the middle to make pants effectively, but still wore skirts. Maybe it was just about ease of peeing while female, without modern bathroom set ups.

I have no idea what they were wearing under the skirts though. If it involved undergarment shorts or something then that blows up my theory. Only for women in the real early days of sex-differentiated clothing though -- once something gets going for a practical purpose, it can really easily spin out to be a cultural thing to emphasize difference between the sexes to emphasize different cultural ideas about them, social roles, and that kind of thing.

big argument against what i just said is that i can imagine a garment where it's like pants, but unbuttons like those pjs with the flaps (u know what i mean hopefully) giving free access to squat pee without risk with a simple unbuttoning process. Perhaps the ancestors didn't go for that without covering it up with a skirt, though, because it looks so fucking stupid. Universal truth. So skirt as solution to the issue for women still wins out.

disclaimer: i never went to college and I don't really know what i am talking about with history or sociology or whatever this is

i am just a humble lesbian feminist who kept trying to find records of some culture out there without any sexism

sometimes i think on our own planet, with our own species, patriarchy was just too old. it probably developed while other hominids were still around. before we were even homo sapien maybe ourselves.

and the ability and motive for men to create it over and over was just too high because of how human pregnancies are so risky and debilitating.... and because it is just so easy to look at the one who gives birth as having more to do with raising the children. And its also easy to look at rate of death and pain in childbirth, pain with menstruation and say, hm maybe women are cursed somehow. I don't think it's right but I see why people kept drawing the conclusions they did.

so any "matriarchy" is at best a patriarchy that swung egalitarian but still have cultural artifacts from some far older patriarchy... and still has separated roles for men and women where the women do usually get the "child care" end of the deal

it gets difficult to even say what we mean when we say matriarchy

i might measure matriarchy with the following

level of woman-positive stories/beliefs common to the people, and lack of woman-negative stories

possible presence of negative stories/beliefs warning against men taking power over women, promoting men acting right

leadership is either all-woman or culturally understood to be typically a woman thing. leadership means making decisions, having property ownership in her name if any and bloodlines traced through her, and access (possibly exclusive access) to the right to use violence and means to use violence, with women in these roles directly or as the order-giver

women get to have whatever role they want. men maybe can have whatever role they want but maybe are expected to do something specific like fish or something i don't know... basically it still counts as a matriarchy to me even if they have some amount of sexism (gender) in roles as long as the penalty of lost role-mobility/flexibility is paid by the men, not women

Ok update i forgot about some factors such as horses and also about togas. see notes for more confusion by me.