shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

10 ways I became anxiety free.

To overcome anxiety you need to put in the work, this is not some click-your-fingers-and-its-gone shit. You need to return home to yourself and learn to live in alignment with your truth and not what society expects from you. I went from years on years of crippling anxiety and panic attacks to living completely anxiety-free for many years now, here’s what I did....

1 ) I fucking paused. I created a space for myself daily to meditate / journal. I stopped listening to the outside world and started tuning into me. I noticed the voice in my head and all the ways it was kicking me down at every given opportunity. I noticed how I worked a job that was so far from everything I loved and valued in life, I started noticing the men I was choosing and how they would fuel my anxiety by giving me scraps of love which I accepted and tolerated for years. I noticed the ‘friends’ who’s energy I felt off around, I noticed my vices, drinking alcohol even dabbling in drugs and smoking for release. In pausing I really got to see how my life was so far from love, and this distance manifested as anxiety as a signal for me to come back home to myself. 

2) I stopped talking / obsessing over my anxiety. The more I read about it, spoke about it, the more it could live within me. I was feeding it each day the more I focused on it. I stopped giving anxiety my energy. I accepted it was there, and focused on feeling better. 

3) I got help. I found a therapist I trusted and could understand me (it can take some time) and this was a game changer. I did a course of cognitive behavioural therapy for 3 months (which I privately extended to 9 months) and learnt all the ways my childhood wounds had been playing out in my adult life. I would choose men that would validate my belief that I was not worthy, something I believed as a child from my dad. There was a long list of old beliefs that I was playing out in my everyday life triggering my anxiety at every opportunity. 

4) I moved my body, I did regular exercise, dancing, yoga, running, pilates, walking. In order to get that uncomfortable feeling out my stomach, it was crucial the energy in my body was being moved otherwise I was energetically stuck.

5) I learnt how to connect with my inner child, I found out what I needed, where I was neglecting myself, and this was huge for my anxiety relief. I read Susan Anderson for steps on how to do this.

6) I got new friends. I changed my circle, and with this my energy changed. I spent time with women who inspired me, educated me, lifted me up, and this took time. There were periods I had no friends but I knew it was more important to be alone than be around people who were not aligned with me, and my values. 

7) I stopped dating unavailable men, as my self love and worth grew I was no longer interested in men that rejected or treated me like an option. I choose men who treated me as I desired, with respect, care, interest, love and affection. Hot and cold men held no place in my life and this helped shift ALOT of my anxiety as my father wound was a huge part of the anxiety I was feeling on a daily basis. A man ignoring me for 3 days would trigger severe anxiety until I heard back.

9) I choose a career and jobs in alignment with my truth. I said no to jobs not paying me enough, jobs with toxic teams. At interviews I learnt about the culture and asked questions to see if I was a good fit for me. 

10) I poured into my passions and built my confidence, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and proved my limiting beliefs wrong. I travelled alone, I learnt to enjoy my own company, I read books, attended retreats, listened to music that made me feel good, I helped other people, I switched off my phone. 

All of the above was a huge process spanning over 10 years, it required time, energy, determination, heaps of self love and commitment, financial investment (self-funded), and an overwhelming desire to heal the parts of me that my anxiety was attached to. 

You know nothing, Jon Snow

It's been a short night and a hot summer day in here. But I just received the last of the goods in my secondary inbox and am still unpacking, pondering and putting the data into context.

Work with me:

To begin somewhere, this is the exact content of the (in)famous Shamrock Anon submission to this blog, as delivered almost 23 hours ago:

Put yourselves in my shoes and read with me: "the Irish based drinks company (not the one accessible to fans) is solely owned by him and DF".

An Irish company? "Not accessible to fans?" Owned only by these two people and not her, on her turf? Now that could have been a nuke, because hello, where is the logic in all this, and who does that, and yes, why?

By the time I wrote my brief Shamrock Anon post, in the hope of luring this person to share more, the same message had already been delivered to at least two other shipper blogs. That would make three of us: the controversial newbie (I am not blind, but I am not cantankerous either), the respected veteran sleuth and Super Dispatch, with what I believe to be the intent of pushing an agenda of sorts. I chose not to publish Anon, because: 1) I needed more and yes, I needed to check and 2) I felt there was something bizarre with all this.

@luhafraser published it and I am truly relieved they did. I posted an update that apparently got even more people confused, and carried on with it. It did not take off the pressure (Anons begging, pleading and taunting went straight to the bin), but it gave me time to start looking.

It took me exactly two minutes and a half to find the Irish company's name and registration number, as visible and published on the FMN gin webpage (https://www.forgetmenot.com/ and always, always read the small print).

So long for "not accessible to fans", BS Anon:

Next stop, the Irish Company Registration Office's website (https://core.cro.ie/), where things went impeccably smooth. FMN Drinks is an Irish company, registered as "Limited", which would translate as Public Limited Company (plc) in the UK:

Getting more data required a paid search and I stopped to ponder. Really did. Price was a trifle, but that was not really my problem. So I sat on it during the night: it is something I always do when I find myself uneasy or unsure about something.

By noon today, local time, I mumbled "oh, what the hell", crossed myself and pushed send:

It took 15 minutes to get five of the documents and two more hours and 45 minutes to get the Letter of Status, certified by a living, breathing Irish public servant in that inbox:

So (in)famous Shamrock Anon, here is my answer to you:

If you think a company specialized in the distilling and rectifying of spirits, with 100 (one hundred) issued shares, worth 1 euro each and with a zero euro declared account balance since last December is proof of capitalist world domination, you are an idiot, Anon. You lured me down that rabbit hole with the preposterous idea that C was not a part of this PO box company - which she is, as one of its four appointed Directors - to try and prove shippers are stupid. Which we aren't.

At face value, this is nothing to write home about. But I said yesterday the devil is in the details and was not disappointed, because you clearly are sloppy (again?) Anon and boy, you do have an untrained eye. It's almost like me when prompted to read somebody's blood test results, you know?

I am now faced with a dilemma: I either buy a cork board, thread and pins and start a trip to Cuckooland, trying to navigate my way across trademarks and trails of companies, and such other niceties that are boring as death. Or, I look at this completely uncalled for embarrassment of riches and let the dots connect themselves, in time.

I always steered my course according to this French proverb: dans le doute, s'abstenir. When in doubt, do nothing. Making sense of a document posted on a real estate company website is one thing. Publishing such documents, which are readily available for the private use of anyone with a credit card, and prematurely discussing them is a personal red line I am not willing to cross.

It would be pushing an agenda and, especially right now (*promo*), writing the script. Circus might be in town, but I am not one of the clowns.

Oh, and Anon: a company is an evolving entity people get into, then get out of and even maybe get back to, at some point in time. A business project is by no means any sort of evidence of relationship/marital status.

The End Of Tora Steals Things: A GW2 Fan Comic/Novel

Hey! So with the end of Amulet Of Bolli having gone up on Dec. 23rd, 2023, it's time to talk bout something I've been putting off for awhile now.

You read the title, let's get into it: The End Of Tora Steals Things.

Amulet Of Bolli is the last story I will make for Tora Steals Things. That's it. There's no more. It's ending there as I move forward with Apocalypse Child (which launched on Dec. 21st at apocalypsechildcomic.com!).

So why is it ending?

Those of you who've watched my streams probably already knew this as I've been talking about it ending for awhile now. Hell, many of you may have figured out it was singing its swan song when I first announced Apocalypse Child, or changed the update schedule to once every two weeks, or changed it to a webnovel format... Many of you probably knew it was dying before I was willing to admit it myself.

Truthfully, I have roughly 16 or so stories left for Tora Steals Things, and I really wanted to make them all. TST means a lot to me: it taught me how to make comics and it brought me joy during some of the hardest moments of my life. I'm honestly so touched that so many people read and enjoyed it over the years. You guys made it worth it, you really did.

However, TST has long lived past its due date, and this last story proved that to me. Amulet Of Bolli Part Two took six months to write--six months where I had no time to edit past a first draft, could not build a decent buffer, and had no time to work on writing for Apoclaypse Child. Did it take less time than it would have as a comic? Yes, absolutely, but it still took far more time and energy than what it's currently worth. It exhausted me to my limit to make.

I don't know what else to say, really--I burned out on TST years ago but just kept pushing. I'm sad I couldn't complete it the way I wanted to, sure, but I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally allow myself to stop working on it.

For those last 16-ish stories, they're now available in written summaries as bonus material for the deluxe edition of the third and final e-book for Tora Steals Things. I hope that will satisfy those of you curious over where the story was gonna go, had I kept making it.

On that note, the last e-book collecting the last of the comics and prose for TST is out and available for purchase: Volume 3--Contract Complete which you can pick up here.

What's next?

As my focus moves onto Apocalypse Child, the Patreon for Tora Steals Things has been made to re-focus on that as well. I'm still keeping all the previous rewards for TST available on that Patreon. In the future, time-willing, I may collect those rewards to sell in digital bundles alongside the e-books so that those of you interested in just the Tora Steals Things sketch pages, scripts, thumbnails, and so forth, can just buy it instead of signing up for the Patreon. I'm also considering doing a live Q&A stream for the ending of TST near the end of the month. Might not do it. Depends on interest, really.

If this is something that interests you, I'll be sure to update this space or my twitter (@GriffinSBNorth) if and when anything happens.

All that said, I wanna just like, thank those of you who read my work all this time. Tora Steals Things was always a bit out there as a fan project and it means the world to me that so many of you loved my hot mess of a plant thief and all his friends.

Really, truly, thank you.

And please, feel free to ask me questions if you have any.

The other promised personal post, this one about my self-discovery that I completed last year and in the result gained a weirdly powerful feel, like when Eragon found his true name if you know what I mean

Three main paths: art, brain training, isolation.

1. Art

Art was something I always loved, of course all kids do art but I never stopped. I kept making up characters and settings and stories and theme songs and game designs. I did my first zine at like 6 years old lol.

Living in capitalism meant that the most attractive stories were beyond my reach for financial reasons, so out of disappointment I decided to start telling my own stories, as if that was hard. This was all very early in my life and I believe I was always meant to be an artist and storyteller, and the skills I gained only helped me later.

Like when things started to get more difficult around middle school. When family started demanding and gave nothing back anymore. When the only protector I had left me alone to pursue a career, repeating that if they can handle it, I can too - but I was still a child.

When it was forbidden to talk, feel and hurt, I kept creating. Losing myself in fiction, which years later turned out to be much less fictional than it seemed. Most of my writing was about myself this whole time. I was scared someone might find out so I concealed the message so deep that I alone couldn't see it anymore.

And new stories kept coming, I kept drawing, the XP I gained brought improvement. Never completing anything but always creating something new, finding endless joy in rotating the blorbos in my head. And this continues until today.

Many many times I had doubts if it's all worth anything, a devil telling me I should drop art. And always some inner force pushing me back to the drawing desk. So many times I had to ask myself the question: why do I keep making art? And finally, very recently, I have found the answer.

I am an artist. Artists make art. It's that simple.

2. Brain training

Similar to other body parts, brain can be trained. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, learning, math, there are many ways.

For me it was trying to understand my family.

Recognizing patterns level hard. Predicting what will happen. Inventing ways to protect myself. Teaching myself to do things no one would explain to me but everyone demanded me to know.

School was easy compared to this. Studying gave results in a short term, sometimes it was even fun. Teachers noticed and behaved as if it was their success. Other kids' parents noticed and started bullying their children to get the same results, because if I can do it, why can't they? They were not abusive enough to trigger a similar mechanism, but abusive enough to make their children hate me.

But I haven't noticed. I had a few friends and did not even notice everyone else was against me. This was my elementary and middle school, and then at high school the level was much more even so I could be more invisible.

All the time I tried to figure out my family, and they kept surprising me. All the time I could get good grades, and felt like this is the only thing I am good at.

But as Master's degree approached, I had to accept this can't continue forever, that I am not smart enough to get a PhD. That after graduating I will have to start a job, live a normal life, do things I never learned. I was sure I will die within months, but hey, it's been years already and it only gets easier!

My true victory came just a few years after. I have finally realized there is no way to understand my family because they are simply irrational.

That's it! I am free now! High-fiving all the mathematicians who proved a problem to be unsolvable because hey, that's an accomplishment too!!!

3. Isolation

Introverted by nature, I don't like to spend too much time with people, especially the same people over and over again. Especially my family. Three days is my limit.

And I was tied to them all my life. So when I finally moved out, the sudden experience of freedom overwhelmed me. I did not want to give it away until I get saturated with how good it feels to be alone. Also, gaining distance feom my abusers allowed healing to start. But before that, long hours of remembering and understanding and grieving. Gaining courage to finally meet myself, discover who I am. Forget who I was supposed to be. A journey of self-discovery that brought peace and hope and skill and confidence.

But I am still human. Humans are social animals. I need some contact every now or then or I go insane.

For a few years, I used pokemon go. Going to raid hour every week. But everyone was busy playing so the contact was very shallow.

I started going to fandom conventions trying to relive the same kind of wonder I felt as a teenager. It is different this time, of course. I got used to the fun parts. Nothing seems as impressive as earlier. But even then, I felt like this is my place, and my kind if people. I only needed a way to connect.

Then Käärijä happened, of course. Suddenly I had a thought: the biggest fandom convention in the country doesn't have much to offer for me, but maybe I can do something crazy, maybe I can make this event a bit more me-friendly. I returned to fb after years of break to ask on groups if there are any Käärijä fans willing to meet up.

And they were. It only gets crazier from there.

I started talking to some of them. One suggested a Frank fanclub because we all had some Frank gadgets. I designed a sticker. I designed another one. I organized three meetups, day after day. People came. I made friends. A group chat was founded. Was it me who did it?

Then another crazy idea. Make more stickers. Repeat this at other conventions. And so my convention tour started. With many many stickers.

And then I start a daily Käärijä sketchbook. And then I find friends through the stickers. And then I find friends throught the art. And then the friends warm my heart and break it open and put a foot inside so it doesn't close back too soon.

And I realize I am not alone.

Okay?

So I am an artist, I stubbornly forced my way through my early years and ended up with a pretty cool job, and now I get just enough money and independence to decide how to spend time with people who are in general pretty amazing after all ✌️ still no idea what I want next but I am really happy I made it to here

safekeeping

it is femslash february and also valentine's day, so I am finally pulling this snippet out instead of continuing to sit on it! tfw u are gay and also know the galaxy is maybe doomed

“What is it?” Rkorya asks when Lana pulls her away. The ruins she’s led her to are secluded, with enough standing walls to keep them hidden from view, and they’re far away from the coalition’s staging area that it’d be difficult to just stumble on them. In short, a good place to say something she’d rather not have overheard. “Is something wrong? Has the Republic tried to undermine us already?”

“No, no – though they might still try something, the truce holds for now,” Lana says, brow furrowing. Rkorya can feel her thinking something over, deliberating over each word, each action. Throughout every betrayal and crisis, her intellect has been both guide and weapon, something Rkorya has grown to admire and rely on. Normally she would have enjoyed watching her think, or treasured how relatively unguarded she is around her, but even this new, fragile bond cannot distract her from what she must somehow accomplish.

“This isn’t about the coalition, or Revan, or our mission. It’s about you.”

“Me,” she repeats dully, trying to wrest her thoughts away from tactics and battle. “What specifically about me?”

“It... might not be my place to say as much, but you’re pushing yourself. More than you were on Rishi, if I’m to judge.”

“And if I am?” she says, and waves sharply at the ruins, and the humming tension of the Force that they’re both privy to, like a darkly familiar note being plucked over and over. “This is surely a situation that requires it. You know I’m of little use away from the front lines.”

Lana doesn’t quite frown, and once again Rkorya has the sense that she is delicately sorting through what she might say. “You’re right, certainly. The Empire needs its strongest, and you are that. But you’ve already gone into the jungle several times for smaller matters, ones which don’t require your attention.”

Rkorya shifts, prepared to argue that point, and Lana raises a hand to forestall her. “It’s no longer just a handful of us against a conspiracy. We have people now, resources we couldn’t use in hiding. We no longer need to do everything ourselves.”

“I know that,” she snaps, more heated than she’d intended. “Just as I know what sort of missions I’m suited for, and what my limits are. I’ve made it this far without needing to be looked after.” As soon as she says the words she regrets them – she sounds more like a petulant child than a Sith, and one who knows she’s in the wrong.

It’s a struggle to rein in her temper, but she at least manages to soften her tone. “It takes hours or days to gather the intelligence needed to make our next move. What of it if I occupy myself with more minor tasks? What matters if that they’re getting done.”

“What matters,” Lana says, “is that you are the one doing them, wasting your energy when we have other options. Surely after all of this, no one could doubt your dedication. There’s nothing left to prove –”

“It’s not about proving anything! I – Lana, I have to be doing something. It doesn’t matter what, I just can’t stand this waiting.” Before, she had taken such things in stride, but she had been confident then, certain of her strength and her ability to triumph in the end. Now Yavin feels like an obstacle placed in her path, and there’s a frenetic energy humming under her skin, demanding she keep moving, keep fighting, do something of worth. “The stakes are too high, now.”

Usually she admires Lana’s poise, her ability to remain focused and in control despite the depths of her emotions, but right now it’s infuriating – her calm seems implacable, her reasoning a counter to Rkorya’s every word.

Perhaps they’ve grown close enough for Lana to sense that, because her expression softens and she steps closer, reaching for her hand. She lets her take it in both of hers, and not even her current mood can tarnish the quiet thrill of this familiarity, this easy trust.

She couldn’t have dreamt of it, once.

“The stakes are high,” Lana agrees. “That is why it’s important that you be rested, focused. We need you – I need you – to be at your strongest.” Her composure slips – purposefully, she’s sure – just enough for Rkorya to catch just how important this is to her. “There’s little room for mistakes, with the truce and with our enemies. It’s nearly overwhelming as it is. I can’t bear having to worry about you as well.”

She’d clenched her hands into fists, but they uncurl now, some of the tension draining out of her. It would be difficult to fight a need as great as this one, and it’s utterly impossible now, when Lana meets her gaze and holds her hand like it’s some precious thing. For reasons she can’t begin to explain, that nearly undoes her. To be seen as so worthy of this.

“You shouldn’t worry,” she says at last, voice low and rasping with emotions she can’t quite name. “You know my strength –”

“Any other time, and in any other place, I wouldn’t question it. But here, I must. Please, Rkorya.” She squeezes her hand lightly. “Be careful.”

“I will,” she says haltingly.

Anon wrote: Hello. I'm a 25yo INFJ male. I've been trying different field of studies for years in vain. I know I want to feel useful to society somehow and help people or animals in meaningful ways through my job, so that's why I wanted to go in social services. However, I find myself feeling overwhelmed and struggling to keep my mental health balanced ironically. I tried many jobs and internships in an attempt to prove to myself that I'm capable to realize my goals, but I always end up having a huge mental breakdown that leads to suicidal behaviors no matter the nature of the work (although it tends to be worse if I work in a stressful and oppressing environment ofc).

Admittedly, I have many mental illnesses (bpd, npd and cptsd) that probably explain my difficulty to "live normally", but at the same time, I stubbornly don't want that to limit my potential, so I keep pushing and hoping I can reach my goals. I do not give up easily, I kept on working or studying even if it kills me but lately, I took a break from uni and after failing to keep retail job (again), I wonder if I need to let go of my goals.

If I do, I don't think I can confront the shame of being a failure. I wouldn't know what to do, what am I supposed to do with my life if I cannot achieve anything? Live from a miserable social welfare and hoping I get enough food on a daily basis? Becoming the inadequate and incapable person I fear to be and revealing that to the rest of the world?

If I don't give up and keep pushing, at least, I can't say I didn't try. I know I'll end up kill myself eventually in this path, but I'd rather conserve the few bits of pride I have in myself than cowardly giving up. This probably sounds twisted up but it feels like my existence is doomed for a life of suffering because of how deficient I am, so I might as well "suffer honorably" for my goals at least.

I still have a few months to decide whether I should give up my uni studies and my job hunting for once and for all. But tbh, I could just flip a coin and either result will be the same to me: I'll just end up trying to survive and take my own life. Sigh. As an INFJ yourself, do you have any alternative perspectives to offer? Thank you.

--------------------

Thinking in extremes is symptomatic of Se grip problems. Why do you live like you're trying desperately to prove something? Do you really like it? It's a choice you're making. There are as many ways to live life as there are people in this world. Life isn't all-or-nothing. You seem to want to believe it is because it makes you feel as though you have a purpose, or that your life isn't mundane like everyone else's, or that it makes you special instead of ordinary. This underlying egotism infects your every thought and action. When your intention is tainted at the start, you're likely to end up in self-sabotage.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to do some good in the world, but there is something wrong when you use this "mission" to define the whole of your identity or the whole of your existence. This manifestation of immature Ni+Fe points to underlying ego development problems (see the Type Dev Guide). You're merely covering up the emptiness inside when you should be building yourself up properly through developing your latent strengths, talents, and capabilities. We all have potential to fulfill, but your concept of potential is twisted by faulty beliefs.

You have deep-seated shame and self-worth issues that need to be worked out because they influence your entire worldview (these topics come up often, so search the tags). Health is the greatest wealth, and you won't get far without a stronger foundation of mental health. If you don't care well for yourself, you won't have the energy and wherewithal to care well for others. I strongly suggest that you work with a therapist to carefully correct your flawed thinking and beliefs, learn how to cope better with negative emotions like shame and guilt, and work on implementing realistic and incremental plans for the future. Your issues are treatable with therapy, but the key is that you have to want to change your way of thinking and stop clinging to faulty beliefs that don't really serve you well.

Update ~ Return & The Swan Song 365 Challenge

365 Marks the number of days I will be challenging myself to and that voyage starts tomorrow. I will have this be my swan song. Yes it’s true no one hits harder than life, but what it’s really about is toughness, not power. Enduring is what makes us still stand, that's getting to the last round and that’s how you win. One hit and it’s just defense. And... that’s what I’m going to do! (I’m going raw in-depth beneath the cut.)

I’ve left pieces of my heart into the possession of many and I’ve watched them soon after throw and neglect it into the trash. Time and energy spent accosting my vitality. And it’s not on them strictly, it’s my own fault for being careless of the importance of where I devote myself too. I have left pieces of my body being torn and dissected to try fixing a disease and body that continues to decay and now is inoperable to fix from the holes carved into me. Hospital visits erased my opportunities and allowed me to stand side line oddly. I still recall being stuck there for a month, and I was bet against. Told I wasn’t strong enough. Watching my dreams shatter from Olympics, wrestling, everything gone, but one vital thing.

My mind is still intact. Although I deplete and have bitter limits. As long as I have that, I still have all I need. But expression is what I believe is the most important thing being’s bring; inside art you can prove that. In that atmosphere, you create worlds. And while you may get destroyed, you can convert that into something better. When things die like dreams, they can be recreated and transformed into a whole new positive landscape and impact.

I push myself to boundaries, challenge cause I need nothing ever wasted again. There is a way to do that. I can turn my entire life of years into memories good and bad, and bear it all on the table, in ONE full year... I can turn into stories, experiences, adventures. I can put it all into form and unleash it. Reveal my truth.

See although people have entrusted pieces of them to me. I have never lost it. And they are still important to me, to immortalize because every scar physically and mentally builds no matter how it’s constructed and molds you. I’ve always been second-rate in almost every regard, but I have never felt that way when sharing here and I continue to prosper and push because of the fondness and the out-pour of all the encouraging people who’ve tuned in, no matter the gaps in my appearances, or it almost seemingly like I’ve gone off to the seas and abandoned them on the shores.

I always return as one of the few constants.

Three months last year, I should just go for that alone as a benchmark, or go the normal idea and go for a consistent goal of Four, but I want more, more and more. In my heart of hearts.

One year. That’s where I want to go.

I will lay out every single emotion and I will turn it into some sort of screen set, writing, gif, comedic skits, poetry, lyrics, something to productively let out daily. Of course, I've had a handicap for one month and although that seems like a lot of distance to be ahead of me and easily achievable, I assure you all it takes is one bad day and that’s gone. A shifting wrong blow from life and it’s gone and I’m out.

Even if I don’t make the criteria of this challenge, I’ve set forth. I’ll still be happy with what I did and my opinion, alongside the love that I still can give myself daily, doesn’t change anything. 'Cause I did what makes me feel alive. Though I strongly believe, I can win this distance.

The reason is -- I’ve already succeeded in getting a month’s worth of work. Where my passion was perceived as a fire, thinking it dimmed, that the blaze couldn’t come back. I assure you, I’ve found it’s an explosive now.

It’s in my gratitude to all those who over the years have been on a life journey, being beside me, going through it all. Watching me adapt, evolve. I’m certain sometimes, there could’ve been questions if I was diminishing or regressing.

My duty is to hopefully aspire and inspire and I can take it that wasn’t easy. So that’s my apology if I’ve ever let your expectations down.

But now, if you stuck with me in this wild ride, I will deliver you the best that I’ve held in holding and couldn’t get too.

I owe it all to those who’ve come and slithered in whispers against me, targeted me with poison, aided in doubt. Thank you for allowing me to inject that into myself. It took a considerable amount of time to learn how to turn that poison into something useful, but I’ve found the antidote and gained beyond a tolerance to it, but immunity.

For those who’ve been my stars, who've been my guiding compass to return, who saw my spark, and encouraged me. Watching me leaping into turning my spark into a lightning strike here and there, I owe you a few worlds. Consider them created. I’ll go from lightning to thunder! And from there, I’ll become a whole thunderstorm of unbridled passion!

Even to those who often remain without even my presence, I have all my heart for you in this and it has given me my conviction to overcome. I’ll bring warmth into even the shadows themselves.

I’m out to develop a new writing style and form of art and trespass into it and ideally if it works, I’ll master it. If doable, I’ll be telling stories in this format. Not only easier to absorb but better for me too. But I haven’t given up, I attend to create all Captain’s stories, arcs, which I’ve hundreds remaining. Though this will allow me to ease it up and turn it into an alternative until I do so. I’m also going to be developing Captain’s final state and character arc, leading him up to being his pinnacle, prior to him going for his Last Voyage. This is a better idea instead, because it allows me to not only return to RP anywhere, but prevent partners from having to contend with any Story that is happening anymore. Now it’s strictly stories that are happening / stories that have happened. I'll be allowing them to be filled out / teased in my new style, and also one day, whenever not this challenge, I’m back to writing again, I can go at it.

Things haven’t changed though I’ll work on getting back to answering more stuff, being easier reachable for stuff. But most importantly, Build. Support. Hoist. Back to showcasing a lot of your inspiring tales, amazing works. You’ve kept all the engine running and that’s what matters. We’re all in this as a crew. Thank you for taking care of the helms and still never halting either in going through your tides. You’re what makes those seek fortune.

As always much love out to you hearties and glad to be on this vessel again, thanks for being embodiment's of treasure. But it’s land ho!

Fray had been watching Ernastral, and she was not pleased with her progress.

"I'm beginning to question your commitment, Ernastral," Fray said, arms crossed and glaring up at her. "You haven't heard the voice since our last communion, which means you haven't taken my lessons to heart. You know I'm trying to help you, don't you? All of this is for your benefit. You listen, but you don't understand─"

Fray suddenly staggered, as she had towards the end of their last meeting. Erna reached out a hand to help, but Fray righted herself and pushed the offered hand away.

"Never mind." Fray looked her in the eye again. "You're the stubborn type. I know that. We'll just have to keep at it until you open your eyes. Moraby Drydocks. That's where we'll head next."

She found Fray standing on the docks, staring out towards the sea. Off to one side, she was faintly aware of a merchant talking to a Maelstrom sergeant. About what, she wasn't too interested.

"...Never much cared for the ocean, myself," Fray remarked. "That friend of mine─the one I told you about after our first communion. We came out here together, once. Long story short, we ended up doing something ridiculously foolish and were lucky to make it out alive. I tried to talk her out of it, but she just had to get on that damn boat..."

"Don't be like that, friend!" the merchant pleaded loudly. "Isn't the Maelstrom supposed to aid the smallfolk when they're in a spot of trouble?"

Ernastral finally glanced over to see what the trouble was. The Maelstrom sergeant, a Roegadyn woman, had her hands out, attempting to placate the distraught man.

"So far as it is possible, yes, but... such matters fall within the purview of the Yellowjackets, and─"

"And they told me to bugger off─can you believe that!? I'm begging you, Sergeant!"

"I..." The sergeant trailed off as Ernastral suddenly caught her eye. "Wait. Is that you, Lieutenant?"

Ernastral sighed, but walked over anyway. The sergeant lit up.

"It is! The legend herself! Forgive me, madam, I never thanked you properly for your service to Limsa Lominsa. When I first heard Leviathan had been summoned, I feared that─"

"Why, if it isn't that famous adventurer who's been killing primals left and right!" the merchant interrupted. "Truly, the Twelve must be watching over me, because you're just the woman I need!" He then burst into a fit of sobs that Erna wasn't entirely sure were genuine. "I...I am the victim of a terrible─nay, heinous crime! I was waylaid by Qiqirn bandits near the Salt Strand, who left me with naught more than the clothes on my back!"

"And why should I take time out of my day to see to your troubles? Shouldn't the Yellowjackets be handlin' a case like this?"

"How can you say such a thing, madam!? Without your help, I'm ruined!"

A sigh, a pinch of the nose bridge. "Ugh, fine, I'll help."

"Spoken like a true hero! So you know, the rank and file didn't seem so dangerous, but their leader was a mean-looking bastard... But considering the foes you've faced in the past, he couldn't possibly pose a threat to you!"

That's what I'm afraid of.

"Shut your trap and wait here. I'll be back."

Ernastral and Fray made their way over to the Salt Strand, where a bunch of Qiqirn gathered. She'd fought them before, when she was much weaker and less experienced. They'd been a challenge back then, but these days? They could hardly put up a fight. Funny how the things that once seemed so difficult were now barely worth a second glance to her.

"If this Qiqirn isn't everything he promised, I'll take it out of his hide..." Fray grumbled. "Let's make the most of this, Ernastral. No style, no guile, just chaos. Mark your limits, then push yourself beyond. Let the darkness guide you and set you free."

They were weak, especially compared to her, but there were a lot of them. She carved a bloody path of destruction through them, mowing down any Qiqirn bandit too brave or stupid to flee. Their leader proved a decent enough challenge, actually forcing her to push herself as she fought. But soon enough, he too lay dead at her feet.

Fray let out a breathy laugh as she struggled to catch her breath. "Tenacious bastards... Right, then. The goods."

Erna gathered up the box and stuck it in her pack, ready for delivery back to its proper owner.

"Good. There's nothing left here for... for..."

Ernastral paused, glancing over to Fray with a concerned frown. Fray staggered and fell to her knees, looking exhausted. Erna approached her, reaching out a hand, but she stopped her with a shake of the head.

"Finish it," Fray said. "Finish what we started."

Erna returned to the merchant, depositing the bloodstained box down in front of him. He blinked, looking a little taken aback as he studied it.

"That seems to be mine, but..." He opened the box and went through its contents, before letting out a groan of disappointment. "Llymlaen take me, I can't sell this! Everything's soaked through with Qiqirn blood! What did you do─carve one open and leave him to bleed all over my wares!?"

Look, the bastards were trying to protect their ill-gotten goods. Where the hell else do you think the blood was going to end up?

"I'm ruined... utterly ruined." The merchant fixed Erna with his most displeased glare, the sort that he no doubt used on any hapless merchant who happened to stick him with a price tag he disagreed with. "Madam, I demand recompense for your reckless destruction of my property! I am a reasonable man, so I will acknowledge that you are not wholly responsible. Fifty percent of the value should suffice."

Something inside her snapped.

"Fifty percent? FIFTY PERCENT?! You begged me to go fetch yer sorry goods from fuckin' BANDITS because the authorities couldn't be bothered to do it themselves, and then you have the audacity to yell at me for getting blood on it?! What did you fuckin' think was gonna happen when you asked me to go carve up some godsdamn bandits on your behalf?! You're fuckin' lucky it weren't your own blood that was on it in the first place! The next time you go beggin' random adventurers for help with somethin', don't turn around and complain because oh no, it turns out gettin' your stolen shit back from bandits might involve killin' 'em and gettin' blood every-fuckin'-where!"

The sergeant and the merchant stared at her, the former with her mouth agape and the latter looking like he was about to faint from terror.

"P-Pray forgive me my insolence, madam!"

"Lieutenant Klyng, madam, I... You have every right to be upset, but..." The sergeant glanced towards the terrified merchant. "...I think he understands, madam."

Erna's blood ran cold. That... that wasn't me! That wasn't me! It was Fray, all of it was Fray! It's always been Fray!

...Right?

Erna muttered an apology before turning on her heel and running off after Fray, who she'd spotted dashing towards the other end of the docks. The salty sea breeze vaguely helped settle the uneasy pit forming in her stomach. The same pit that had formed when she saw the destruction she'd wrought at the Naadam, when Lord Hien described her as "terrifying." She still remembered the look of mistrust and disgust on Zhai'a's face upon noticing she was a black mage. How long it took for him to trust that she wasn't just some witch hellbent on destroying everything, that she actually was in control of the dark powers she commanded.

But is she really in control? The destruction she wrought at the Naadam, the scorched earth and unmelting ice, begged to differ.

Maybe Zhai'a was right about her.

"We can't keep doing this, Ernastral," Fray said. "You must see what it's doing to us... What they're doing to us..."

Ernastral hugged her arms against her chest, suddenly acutely aware of the cool sea breeze blowing across the docks. How it cut through the outfit she'd been wearing ever since diving into the depths of the Ruby Sea. It was not meant for cooler climes like La Noscea or Coerthas.

"...He deserved it," Erna said. "Every word."

Fray laughed, a harsh sound that rang strangely through her ears. "Right you are, Ernastral! Right you are!"

She could practically hear the smile on Fray's face behind her helmet, and it chilled her even more than the breeze cutting through her.

"Felt good, didn't it? Seein' that blubberin' wretch tremble. I think he nearly pissed himself!"

Fray let out another self-satisfied cackle. Erna found herself grinning despite herself. Yeah... yeah, it did feel good to put one of those pompous merchant types in their place.

"You're finally starting to see them for what they are now, aren't you? Good, good. All that remains is to hearken to the voice─to grasp its words and discover your true calling..."

Erna reached out towards Fray, and began the communion as she had multiple times before. With each breath, she slipped further into the abyss.

A chorus of voices cries out for a hero, and she comes.

She smiles. She nods. And she remains silent...

But she too has a voice...

I will be heard...

"...Ernastral Klyng."

Erna opened her eyes and stood up, facing Fray.

"You stand at the precipice, but do not fear the fall. Cast yourself into the abyss, and you shall soar above, free at last."

She felt her stomach twisting into knots again. Cast yourself into the abyss. Oh how many times had she had such a thought? How many times had she considered plunging into the depths of black magic, of really cutting loose and raising hells?

How many times had she shied away, for one reason or another? For the sake of her friends, of her family, of the people around her. How many times had she had to keep quiet about her arts lest she face hostility and distrust. How many times had she had to keep a low profile lest her very presence bring misfortune upon innocent souls.

"There are other lands than these, Ernastral─lands where we are not known. Ask, and we shall quit this place forever. Only when you have renounced everything are you free to do anything."

Are you ready to give up on the fame and glory you once sought?

"When we meet again, you will give us your answer."

An Open Letter to Parents and Caregivers

To the parents of kids with disabilities:

Take it easy.

Take a breath.

Be gentle on yourselves.

More importantly, be gentle on your children.

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Parenting is difficult, no matter how typical your child is (or isn’t).

It’s tough, especially when you have to worry about things that other parents don’t. Those late nights where no one can sleep, stressing over IEP meetings, the seven cups of coffee just to survive until noon, all the doctor appointments… it can feel like too much.

When you’re surrounded by so much negativity, it’s so easy to become overwhelmed and distressed. The world will list out all the things your kid will never do, and all the limitations that come with it. You’re hearing from every angle that disability is a horrid experience and people telling you how much less their lives are worth. You become convinced that your kid won’t ever have a normal life, and you have so many fears of what the future is going to hold. I feared this for my brothers so much. I fear it for myself.

Take a breath.

Go easy.

__

Listen for a moment.

Let me introduce you to my community.

As an autistic adult who has several co-occuring disabilities, the disability community is a lifeline for me.

I know of some really great people in my community who do amazing things – with their disability, not in spite of it.

I can name several nonspeaking autistic people who blog and educate.  I know some people from online support groups that are in group home or have caregivers, because they’ve been told they can’t live alone safely. They’re the people who are often considered “most like your child” or “low functioning,” yet they all prove over and over that they are not machines you can classify. They are human beings with their own values, opinions, and autonomy- and deserve to be treated with respect. All of us autistics do.

Some of them have published books. Some sing. A few knit, paint, or do other types of art. Many are kind and are the first to offer sympathy in hard times. All share their stories; each are unique and beautiful in their own right. They’ve made marvelous strides in positivity and accessibility – by pushing for acceptance, understanding, and respect.

I can tell you of people with physical and cognitive disabilities who are amazing people. Comedians, lawyers, activists, teachers… the list goes on. I know people with feeding tubes who run businesses, people with diabetes who make some of the best nurses out there. I know fantastic people who rely on screen readers and get things done, graduating with honors. I can tell you about my college dorm Resident Advisor who was Deaf, and always facilitated the *best* floor meetings. I can tell you of people with schizophrenia who are the sweetest, making the loveliest color drawings I still have years later.

I know children fighting against conditions that are deadly and bleak, and the adults that those children become – brave, insightful, and possess the best humor. I know of people with Down syndrome and intellectual disabilities that run bakeries and marathons. I know people with cerebral palsy who are brilliant writers, witty souls, and wonderful friends. I know people with gasteroparesis who can make the absolute best cheesecake and desserts.

__

People with disabilities can still live wonderful and happy lives.

Sometimes, you don’t even know they have a disability; it’s okay to be disabled. Disability is natural.

We don’t have to be famous or savants to be full of worth and loved. We don’t have to work high paying jobs or get a PhD in order for our voices to be heard, either. Your child’s worth is not determined by how much money they can make or how well they can pass. Striving for “normality” or passing as “normal” isn’t the goal for us. We know we’re not part of the ‘typical’ crowd – and that’s okay.

Don’t mourn for us. Celebrate and stand with us instead. We don’t want pity; we need acceptance and accessibility.

__

Right now, the world seems like a scary place. Your kid might not be a ‘savant’ or amazingly talented at one or two skills. They might have difficulty with certain things that you don’t think they’ll ever be able to do – and that does happen sometimes. But not always.

One day though, your kid will grow up. Autistic kids tend to become autistic adults, a fact that you know often goes unnoticed. You may be terrified for their future, and that’s understandable. You may worry about future employment, future family life, what will happen to them.

That’s okay.

Take a breath.

__

Meet up with a therapist. Join a group that celebrates the positives, not just dwells on the negatives. Don’t fall into that trap of despair and negativity. Society tells us enough that we’re burdens; trust me, the last thing your kid needs is to hear it from you too. Your child is precious and loved, and they need you to be their safety net who will love them unconditionally.

Look after your mental health; that’s something all parents need to do, not just when you have a child with a disability. If you’re struggling, reach out. There’s no shame in asking for help. It’s better for you – and for your child. Your kid needs you, and they need safety and stability.

__

Let your kid take a breath.

They’re kids. Take them to play dates with other children. Find peer support groups. Help them find ways to adapt to a world that might not be accessible enough for them.

Let them play, laugh, and make mistakes. Let them be themselves. They’ll grow in their own way, at their own pace.

Advocate for your kid, love them unconditionally, and help them establish self-determination – even if at first it’s just choosing which clothes they want to wear that day.

And always, always presume competence. Your child will always understand more than you think.

And finally, take one more deep breath.

__

It’s getting better.

The future is slowly getting brighter, thanks to the people with disabilities and allies who are breaking down barriers every single day. From the ADA to the IDEA and accessibility laws – the disability community is pushing through and tearing down the walls that have kept them out.

Your child is in good company.

And know that you’re not fighting alone. We’re on the front lines too, for both us and people with disabilities who will come after us.

Just like you, we’re not giving up any time soon either.

-Courtney Johnson, @justkeepstimming

Erik Grönwall verlässt Skid Row

Es hat sich, bis ich diese Zeilen hier verfasst habe, fast schon wie ein Lauffeuer in der Szene ausgebreitet. Erik Grönwall verlässt Skid Row. Ist für mich als grosser Fan von Skid Row, sie gehören für mich zu den wichtigsten Bands in meiner musikalischen Laufbahn, als auch grosser Verehrer von Erik, ein kleiner Schock, der erst einmal verdaut werden muss. Die Gründe für seinen Ausstieg absolut nachvollziehbar und auch ehrlich kommuniziert wie ich finde, hier sein Original Statement Yes, I have decided to leave Skid Row. 
⠀⠀ The main reason being that it’s proved difficult to prioritize my health and full recovery as the lead singer of the band. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ In 2021 I was undergoing treatment against leukemia and that gave me a superpower called perspective. I decided to use that perspective and write down the values I wanted to live by for the rest of my life. On top of that list it says “health first”.⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ I’ve had to look at that list a lot of times this last year, questioning if I’m really living according to my values. At the end of the day I realized the answer was no. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ As a result of the treatments and transplant my immune system was impaired. You can think of my immune system as a 4 year old kid bringing home all kinds of viruses from preschool. It takes awhile to build up that resistance again but my immune system is getting stronger every day. However I’m still doing regular check ups (blood tests) at the hematology department in Sweden, which has proved challenging while keeping up with the Skid Row schedule. I have way too much respect for my medical history to push myself to the limit.⠀ ⠀⠀ I love Skid Row, I have nothing but respect for the guys in the band but I love and respect my health more. I understand that Skid Row is a touring band but like I told the guys: “if I can’t prioritize my health, then I’m not the right guy for the job”.⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Please note, I’m NOT sick and it’s not that I don’t want to tour. I love being on the road. And of course we have tried to find the right balance together but at the end of the day I realized that it was better for me to step aside. ⠀ So now I’m going to focus on my full recovery, and come back stronger than ever. Meanwhile I’m finalizing my biography. And I’m going to start writing my own music again. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Lastly, once again thank you to everyone who accepted me as the singer of this iconic band. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Always remember that no job, no money, no fame is worth your health or well being. Health first always. I owe this decision to the guy in the second picture and I’m proud to be able to say that I kept my promise to him. Health first! Ich staune schon über dieses lange Statement, für mich ein Zeichen, dass es ihm überhaupt nicht leicht gefallen ist, diesen Schritt zu gehen. Was mich aber echt ankotzt ist die Tatsache, dass sofort die Seppel Fraktion um die Ecke kommt und auf diesen unsäglichen Bach plädiert. Bach war damals sicherlich der richtige Mann am Mikro, es gab aber Gründe weshalb er von der Band gefeuert wurde. Erik war das Beste was Skid Row in den letzten zwei Jahren passieren konnte. Ich kann mir auch vorstellen wie Sebastian in den nächsten Tagen seine Klappe nicht halten kann und wieder einmal seine "nur ich bin der Skid Row Sänger mit dem Geld verdient werden kann" Einstellung raushängen wird. Erik hat meinen allergrössten Respekt verdient, dass er diesen Schritt getan hat, zu sich selbst ehrlich ist und sein Versprechen sich gegenüber hält. Skid Row haben mit Lzzy Hale ihre temporäre Lösung gefunden für die anstehenden Shows, was danach kommt werden wir sehen und hören. Erik macht ja eh immer Musik und veröffentlicht mit seinen Buddies immer wieder Coverversionen (der kann einfach alles singen), nimmt sich jetzt Zeit für seine eigenen Sachen und die Autobiografie muss ich auch lesen, wenn sie dann mal veröffentlicht wird. Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

A Shady Love Poem from the office of Cassandra Apparently

For Apparently, Nobody. Fuckers. If you want Inanna's story? You'll keep reading. If not, feel free to scroll on by and accept my little written kiss sounds

kiss muah muah lovie lovie thank you for the time.

I just love pushing the boundaries of what is possible because the only thing I've ever been good at is fantasizing a better life for myself. I'm just nobody though, don't quote me on that.

To clarify it is to the same audience as my Battle Worn Boots poem. I'm tired of figuring out the meaning of words. You might say I've been chasing some wild geese for crumbs. What the hell do I know though? I'm just a lady! An American at that!

Another application? In this economy?! Come on. I've done thousands over the course of 7 years, and I'm pretty sure that is not hyperbole but I can't look in my emails without feeling a sense of disgust in my own behavior. Call it an official Strike Declaration.

The offices of Cassandra Apparently calls that? Witchcraft. Ereshkigal's crypto-testimonial (free of as many negative effects to the environment as humanly possible so better than crypto currency) is below the cut. The vibe? Keep that li'l diddy on repeat.

DATE OF PREDICTION: Basically all of 2024 so far. Assholes.

First off? Fuck you for questioning that authenticity. That needs to be said in no uncertain terms. Call me Absolute Truth, if you dare. I won't accept that in writing that needs to be told TO my face. That's where my self respect is, raise the bar any higher and I'll be happy to take this shit elsewhere tyvm (thank you very much in american gods damned english)

The spirits told me?

CALL THE PROJECT CASSANDRA!!!

I knew They'll say "No, that's too good to be true!" The bots will prevent the word from Reaching you. I did it anyway. That's too bold? Cool now I have to code switch to flirting because characters are limited and have to jump through hoops to prove I'm not trying to do that with any real ass person right now.

I say? I'll keep knocking until I get answers. As politely as possible until it might get to be too late. That's called good cyber security working out of courtesy to save something worth fighting for, Your Honor. What if there was a better world that I could show you?

I keep them begging. Yearning for the definition of the word. I am a Lit'rary thirst trap on the world wide web. I'll be Miss spider for a second and keep going anyway.

Oh...yes? GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE!!!!

Bitch, "please"?

Just "please"? Not even dolling it up for me?

THE queen of 2020 hindsight? Come on.

You know what, now I have to start laying some ground rules. Call them boundaries, a steel sword in a marriage bed, or whatever. That's why I'm so activated anyway, I'm now in military generational trauma land Your Honor.

Yes, it is kind of your fault...but Yes it is kind to know people care. No, I'm not really that angry but Witness Ereshkigal cannot rest this case until it she knows it has been WITNESSED. Inanna does not come out for just anyone. /genuine.

I just have to set some HARD LINES IN THE SAND. I call that: building a wall with just imaginary bricks and mortar since the economy is collapsing and border walls are a poor concept in real life anyway. I call that Quality American Craftsmanship, a dying breed. I watched "Adventures from the Book of Virtues", I know when something is just a lesson and when something is direct. That was how I went to sleep thanks to good ole public television.

Rules for Conducting Business with Cassandra Actually, if you want to come into her house and beg her forgiveness for not listening to her sooner.

For the Camp Records: No, You don't personally have to, but someone should at this point for fuck's sake.

Rule 1: JUST PLEASE?! If this elvish paradise isn't enough for you, then hand me the keys. I'll drive US somewhere better, eh? We can call that Manifest Destiny without slaughtering native peoples and not endangering anyone in the process for being too on the nose. If that's not possible? I get it, but somebody has to try to get something better for me and for the record? I'm very happy to do it by myself thank you very much. My grandmother owns her own building. It's in my blood to seek the best for myself. Noni would approve, and she calls me frequently to provide tech support for her because she can't work a computer to get tenants. I don't have a single aspect of what I do on this WWW that is not exploited by someone, so that's why it has to be like that.

Rule 2: Do not do me the discourtesy of keeping their names from my shit list. If they bother any of you, bring them to me. I'll show them a way around a word or two. I've written thousands just for myself and nobody gets to see that before I am finished.

That last song probably got old by now, so you know what? Let's throw in another one to change the audience and the tone without putting words to what I'm doing for once in my gods damned life.

Rule 3: If I swing and I tell You to Duck? Then, bitch you had better get Quacking. That's not putting too much emphasis on the timeline, that's running out of funds to write checks that I can't cash if I wanted to because Nobody says it is not safe for me there. My entire Organization is on the line. I still honor the value of words, which is a craft that is apparently lost on these ghosts.

Rule 4: I may have been here for a while now, but I do NOT make time for anyone who can't get their damned facts straight. Even if it hits them over the head with ACME's Anvil. Bugs Bunny ass. That's not my problem, Your Honor. That sounds like a pissed off spirit. Too bad the art of Necromancy is dead in this place. If only a wizard knew how to Divine the cards as well as we can. A shame, really.

He must not be a master of the school of Divination like he claims to be!

Rule 5: I do not have time and will not make time for anyone who cannot get their facts STRAIGHT. It's the only straight thing about me, all these facts that I have are the definition of the straight and narrow.

He says that the way I hit it makes him forget his words? Try harder than that!

He says I must be celestial with all these angels singing in the chorus? Try harder than that!

The tone shifts away again? She can't keep doing this, but They say "Third time is the charm!"

Bozo Apparently asks: WHO THE FUCK HEALED YOU? WHO LAID HANDS? WHO CHARGED? THE GOOSE GIRL?? Over 400 hours, assholes. And weeks of playing with wild geese on the internet. 3 different runs through the Holy Narrative and I refuse to play through Act two until my eyes stop burning and my psyche is healed. I know how to play a video game or two and I know far better ones I can spend my time with. Ask Matthew Mercer who my last man might have been. Call that? Rune Factory 4 approves.

Did you say: Only a General could get them stepping this fast?

Bozo says: It could have been too late, sorry I'm a bit rushed! The economy is collapsing and industries I keep trying to get into are shutting me out faster than I can count how many weeks my unemployment checks. It's not that bad, all things considered, but if I was more than a half inch away from losing my familiars with no other options to save them I would not call myself Witch.

Bitch. Fuck a closing paragraph.

Wait, one last recommendation? Watch "The Social Dillema" and tell me I'm looking too into subliminal messaging online again motherfucker. You might as well add the Lizzie Bennet Diaries youtube series to your media diet too, while you're at it.

31 Days of Horror - Day 28 - Titane

28/10/23

I’m not quite sure where to start with Titane. 

While watching this film, I was lost for words and thoughts constantly, its subversive story and thick themes make it an easy movie to get lost in. While I loved so much about this, and found myself deeply excited to write this, looking into the way the film presents gender, sex, family and love, I don’t entirely know what I can say. Of course, there were inklings of thought while watching the film, and yet, nothing that feels worth writing. However, I will try my best to divulge my most interesting thoughts, but this may end up being scrambled, and either incredibly long or shockingly short. Both of which I find at credit to how great this film is!

Titane follows Alexia, played amazingly by Agathe Rousselle, who is involved in a car crash as a child. Ten years later, she is disconnected from her parents while still living with them, and also a serial killer. Soon after, she gets pregnant after having sex with a car. After getting caught murdering, she goes on the run, shaving her hair and presenting herself as the missing son of firefighter Vincent, played by Vincent Lindon. 

These two central characters are maybe the most pivotal pieces to making this film as amazing as it is. Alexia is the most interesting to me. When we are first introduced to her, she is bratty, constantly creating problems for herself despite warnings. Largely, this feeds into the theme of self sabotage within the film, which Alexia keeps forcing herself into despite having moments where things appear brighter. No matter what she does, or how things look for her, there is never a happy ending to this film, there is no way for her to salvage this life, because of all the destruction she has already created. This is part of the film’s horror - the fear of getting better, and the fear of pushing yourself so far down that you can’t rise again. 

Gender was maybe the most interesting theme in this film to me, it’s the one I was most excited to discuss, and maybe the one I feel most shaky on now I am sat here. When we are reintroduced to Alexia, she is in a distinctly feminine job - a showgirl. Even in the name of the job we can see the gendered role, it is distinctly designed to be feminine, yet most of this film sees Alexia presenting as masculine, the character is referred to throughout as a boy as they go by Adrien. Such a sudden shift for their character is suggestive of the fluidity of gender, as they switch from showgirl to firefighter, we see the juxtaposition of the working environments. 

Despite presenting as a man, Alexia is constantly held back by their pregnancy. Every night they must tape down their boobs and belly, and it heavily alludes to the trans experience for many. Such a tiresome experience prevents them from ever truly living their life, their expression is limited through trying to prove themself to their supposed father. Yet, the purpose of showing this doesn’t feel like a simple allegory, but more a display of the fluidity of gender, and the way it can confine. 

One of the most interesting elements of this film is its use of colour. Several times, we will see the firemen partying, bathed in a magenta light. Of course, this brings feminine connotations, especially within this film, yet, I personally find it unclear as to what I think it means. By showing it during the parties, this could indicate a side of these men that is set free in this environment, their masculinity they uphold so dearly has been lifted, and they can dance freely in this feminine light. In this lighting we also see Adrien dancing in a similar, feminine manner to that of the showgirls in the opening - their expression of gender is widened, and how everyone reacts feels incredibly layered. 

Then there is Vincent, who takes steroids despite his already muscular body. As an image, this presents itself as deeply masculine in a heavily toxic way - the bruises on his body indicate the harm he is doing to himself just to appear bold, he is killing himself just to uphold an idealistic image of his masculinity - it comes hand in hand with his role in the force, and the way he treats the other men who are beneath him. This is an image he has the strongest desire to uphold, even if he knows it will kill him. 

Also, there is the constant use of the word “son” in this film. Vincent tells Adrien that despite not knowing who they are, that they will always be his son. What follows is the reveal of their chest, and a quick cover up from him. From a familial look, this is a very sweet and sincere moment that has me in tears; we see how his desire to have his son back is so strong he will love anyone. Finally, he is showing how he accepts this person, no matter what they are really like, and this acceptance is something that was heartbreaking. Throughout the film, Vincent is desperate to keep his son, he wants him to be the same, yet as the film grows, so does he, loving this person as they bond. In particular, I think of when they save the old lady’s life together at work, their bond is so sweet and feels like a father and child relationship where it might not in other places - they feel genuine to me at this point onwards, despite the deception and drug abuse. 

Similarly, the aforementioned use of son can also be seen uniquely in terms of gender. I like to view this as acceptance, although it can of course be viewed as the opposite, as a father moulding his child into how he wants them to be. However, I like the image of him declaring this person as his son, before covering her body up, suggesting that this is not what matters to him, and that instead, he cares for them only, not what they look like. It subverts the earlier ideas of hiding oneself in fear of being viewed as other, here there is confirmation of eternal love. 

Both characters feel deeply tragic, both of them are in desperate need of love and a family. Something I love about the film is how imperfect both characters are. Of course, comparing their problems is not applicable - one person is a murderer - yet they feel so deeply intertwined with one another, their bond true and real. 

Before ending off, I do want to mention the visceral kills and strong tense tone. 

Starting with the kills, the hair pin is an amazing weapon for Alexia, and I found it to be another feminine symbol through her murder. Each death feels uniquely different, sometimes they evoke glee and relief, while others are intensely sad. My favourite accumulates in the house massacre, which uses the films gorgeous cinematography to great effect.

Almost the entirety of this film feels tense, be it as a result of horror elements such as murders, or anxiety inducing sequences where lies are revealed. This whole film feels like an anxiety attack, which is a genre I have mixed feelings on, but often end up enjoying - especially after I’ve finished watching it.

I’m not too sure if I have said much of anything during this - I hope I have! Regardless, this and Audition have definitely been the most fun to write about! Both films are so rich to think about! A while ago I was thinking about how I found it strange that people could define a story as “too weird”. Sure, there are stories which are weird without purpose, or they do it for nothing more than evoking a shock, but Titane is an example to me of a film that is purposefully weird! Regardless, I love weird stories, and I am also incredibly excited to watch director Julia Ducournau’s other film Raw at some point! 

10/10

kink rambles & fantasy under the cut

y'know, ever since i started feeling better and started doing little workouts, an old fantasy of mine has been popping into my head more and more. because while i've been trying to get back in shape, i am definitely not a good self-motivator. it's been making me miss taking in person classes. (not that i can afford them or trust in person anything with covid still being a thing nobody here ever took seriously.)

before my illness hit, i was almost always in classes and on teams. solo working out? nah. there was always someone to do it with. some level of companionship or friendly competition. figuring out reps and sets and times to hit? that was never on me. it was always on my coach or my master (and good lord i can't even write the word in this context without my gut twisting into knots in the best way).

back then i had next to no understanding of BDSM and kink, so i never had words for why i was so desperate for their approval or why i wanted to stand out compared to everyone else in their eyes. i knew it wasn't plain ambition, but i didn't know or really care what it was. i didn't think it was normal, but i also didn't think it particularly weird to crave their approval like i did. or have the sexual fantasies i had.

i'm not even someone who's into praise kink. a "good boy/pet/toy/etc" is more likely to elicit a negative reaction before even a neutral one. but when i've been run through my paces, and pushed to a difficult but attainable goal, to be met with a simple "well done"? a dog couldn't match the loyalty and obedience such a thing would earn.

i always feel so shitty when this particular fantasy rears it's ugly head. and to be honest i don't like talking about it. but i'm putting it here because i like to think i've made a space for myself here to be a little open about these kinds of wants and desires.

it's not extreme or anything, but at some point it feels like i'm trying to say that i just want a personal trainer that i can fuck for free lessons because i can't afford them otherwise. because it's not that. and i know it's not that. and i know from experience that just going to classes isn't going to make the fantasy go away.

do i want to improve physically? yeah, of course i do. but i don't think that's any more worthy of condemnation than any other sub wanting a Dom to help them grow out of a bad habit. and that's not the draw anyway.

it's about the high protocol and the ritual. you bow in this way when you enter and exit the space. you dress this way in the ring but not casually. you address your Master this way.

i want to prove my worth to someone, and in doing so prove it to myself.

i want to be seen as nothing much, maybe as someone they expect to quit. and i want to prove them wrong. i want them to see that promise in me, improving with every order, every command. i want to be pushed as their disappointment and expectations weigh heavier on me with every step forward. if i fail them in laziness, that their tongue be as harsh as their whip or cane. but there will always come a point where i have pushed myself to my limits to impress them, and i've earned my Well Done. and all the better if it only comes after my mouth and cunt are as sore and used as the rest of me.

I don’t know why that when I find myself entering relationships and I feel myself gather on more and more anxiety and get more and more depressed and stop being able to do the bare minimum for myself to be a healthy human and I always sit there and let it simmer — I think maybe I don’t have a right to say I need to change anything? Or maybe I get too comfortable falling into the pit… but it never feels comfortable at all actually. It manifests into constant headaches and stomachaches and bad mental health days and whatever weird anxious illness symptom surfaces. I guess I don’t feel I have a right to even voice these feelings and that’s something I need to change about myself. Time and time again I’ve chosen to do what I think someone else wants me to do whether they tell me to do it or I just automatically assume my position because it’s always been like this. I’ve always felt I had to be the stronger one, the one who has to get over it, and keep going. Do I have an identity outside of being pushed to my limits without warning? Do I have the right to say I can’t keep myself in a place of mental anguish in order to be palatable and have someone stick around. Do I have to determine my worth in others lives by how much and what I do for them? Or can I be someone who can be true to myself and like what I like and stick to my hobbies and constantly figure out who I am forever without it being offensive or make anyone feel like I’m denying them of my care and love. The truth is I’ve been denying myself of my own care and love whenever I find myself abandoning myself again for what I think I deserve. I’ve proven to myself just how much I am capable of giving myself through validating myself and listening to my feelings when I’m alone but when I’m with a partner I just fall to pieces. Everything I do becomes something for them. I go to extremes of wanting to create a safe home and I want to help and I want to be there after a bad day and I want to do the dishes and I want to cook and I want to hear how work is and I want to go do that annoying thing you’ve been putting off — but when do I get the time to do any of that for myself? I find myself bending over backwards to maintain love in these ways that will simply never make me happy. I fall into delusion that maybe someone some day will see any of it and appreciate it and reciprocate it but I know it’s just not ideal and I know it’s not healthy to have expectations. I guess my expectations become real once I feel a loss of effort. The kind of effort you don’t have to beg for or spell out, anything that comes natural. I stop feeling beautiful, I start feeling insecure about my body despite thinking I’ve pushed past this. I think, do I deserve a treat right now? Am I worthy of a treat if I’m not sharing it with anyone? I feel guilty when I’m not a provider. I feel beat down by the comparison trap. If I don’t give you everything I have you’ll leave me and i don’t want to be left anymore— maybe it’s good to be left. Maybe the constant need to prove to yourself that you’re feeling worthless and know how it’s affecting you because you’re the one who has to feel it is enough to say I’m Not Happy. Is it selfish to need to have someone understand this is about yourself? And the ruminating kills. I start closing myself off from my imagination and my dreams because I feel like that topic doesn’t matter in a relationship. Usually the other just wants a safe space for themselves, they don’t want to hear about dreams. I’ve been told I want too much out of life and to live in the present, but my dreams lay somewhere else. I want to find a space where my dreams can coexist with love and I don’t have to hide them in fear of someone denying it. When I kill off the part of me that dreams, truly dreams, I feel like there’s a light that dies inside of me. Constantly shifting and meshing myself to be exactly what someone else wants me to be, I forget about my own life. My own building blocks, my friends, my family, I neglect and I feel it as much as they all do too. I feel pain and I retreat.

Unplugged

After decades of buying the cheapest Windows laptop available on the show floor at Best Buy and using them until they effectively destroyed themselves from within, my mom upgraded to the M2 MacBook Air last month1. As the dutiful "techie" son, I drove to my parents' place in New Jersey to help walk her through the process of setting up her first ever Mac — importing passwords and other preferences from iCloud, walking through how the dock and menu bar each function, explaining little differences in how window management works, etc. After about an hour of this I sat back and asked myself if there was anything else I needed to go over, anything markedly different about MacOS that was worth touching on for someone who had, until now, only used Windows.

"One last thing," I noted as I stood up and removed the MagSafe cable, "is that you're going to find yourself needing to charge this guy less than you're used to. It's much more portable than your last laptop. There's a reason when you walk into cafés almost everyone with a Windows laptop has theirs plugged into a wall and most of the people with MacBooks don't."

Apple dropped some updates to their Mac lineup today after some last-minute rumor-milling over the weekend. They're exciting releases2, and I'll let other, more qualified people explain why.

What really struck me was a piece of marketing material towards the end of the keynote that began with a title card: 3 Pros, 1 Day, 1 Battery Charge. It follows three creatives who all unplug their fully charged 2023 MacBook Pros at the same time and delve into their field of choice — one proceeds to film and edit 4k footage, the second recreates and old Zeiss lens via CGI along with a scene to shoot through said lens, and the third builds an iPad app. While they push the hardware past their perceived limits, the combined power of the M2 lineup of chips and the battery efficiency of the entire laptop effectively proves these three are more hampered by available time in the day than by the machine itself.

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It's a great ad that gets to the heart of why I've found Apple's computing lineup so exciting since making my own switch way back when: It all feels frictionless due to the attention given to nuances like battery life. The big question for viewers, extrapolated out, is that if this laptop can cater to three super-users and survive an entire day's workload on a single charge, can you even imagine what's possible for yourself?

Creativity and recreation and work can all feel limited if you're confined to one specific space. While those kinds of limitations can sometimes be helpful, I've always found I'm more productive when I'm on the move.  There are entire teams at Apple who are not only aware of this, but are dedicated to it. How efficient can we make this device, plugged in or not? In conjunction with every other team collaborating to focus their attention on other seemingly menial elements like trackpad response, hinge design, or user experience touches, everything adds up to create The MacBook Experience: It's a machine built to go unnoticed.

While you're in your element, you shouldn't have to think about it.

If all goes well, you shouldn't even have to plug it in.

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1  That's the same laptop I'm using to write this! Wow!

2 My biggest takeaway is that the Mac Mini lineup is here to stay for the time being, which is a relief to this M1 Mac Mini owner. To be clear: It is still the best computer I have ever owned, and at no point have I felt like I've gotten close to the ceiling of what that chip is capable of despite hitting it with game streaming, audio production, photo editing, video editing, and more. That said, if it ever does start to show it's age I'll be happy to know there will likely be another Mac Mini to replace it with.

⏆