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mentalisttraceur-long · 3 years

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Someone replied to my last post on my main blog:

Aka to stop actions taken by panic, which ppl (rightfully) flipped their shit at trump for saying that on the leaked journo interview

So, there is a difference between

someone deliberately withholding or misrepresenting information to influence people into making decisions they wouldn't make if they had the full information (which seems to be a key part of what people were mad at Trump for in the case you're talking about) and

the emergent behavior of nuance decay which always happens in networks of human activity.

I assert that the mask flip was overwhelmingly in the latter category. There wasn't a cabal of scientists or censors who withheld information or outright lied about the efficacy of masks. Just because the nuanced version didn't reach someone doesn't mean it was deliberately withheld or intercepted. And if you pay attention to human social dynamics it should be overwhelmingly obvious that nuance decay is the default unless actively resisted as a collective effort, so to me it seems obvious that this is the most justified explanation.

You can maybe accuse, like, American Society/Culture for misinforming or lying, but you can't rightly level that allegation against most individual people anywhere along the causal chain. The truth was always out there, always readily available if people actively sought to make their opinion sources the kind of people who could give them that nuanced truth. The truth was just not winning the memetic natural selection competition.

I mean, shit, if anyone asked me for my opinion on masks back before there was any public messaging about it, I would've said exactly this (I know this because I remember having this conversation when I first started seeing people wearing masks): that the people knee-jerk getting masks to protect themselves grossly misunderstand how masks work, because masks primarily protect others from you if you're sick. I was briefly against it before it was cool because my opposition to wrong cognition flagged it.

And I'm just a guy who

once learned that the Japanese have a norm of wearing masks when they get sick to protect others, and

has some above-average mental feel/intuitions/simulations for physical phenomena.

I don't remember if I consciously predicted we would have mask shortages but if I know I would have thought of the possibility if I had occasion to think about it, because I already knew that's how modern supply chains work - they run on thin margins and "just in time" availability if they can.

And if you had asked me for recommendations given the constraint of "there's not enough masks" I'd say exactly this to most mask buyers: "stop buying masks, they don't really protect you, and other people need them more". Which isn't a lie nor intended to prevent panic behavior, it's the most honest formulation available given constraints like

most people literally mentally tune out if you use too many words or nuancing asides;

many people incorrectly process any non-zero probability as way more probability than I would like to convey here, so much so that I would be more dishonest if I said "they only negligently protect you" instead of "they don't really protect you";

I don't have sufficiently precise knowledge about the person I am talking to and how my words will be (mis)interpreted.

But I would've given the nuances to almost anyone if they seemed at all interested/receptive/compatible with that.

And... if you had asked me for recommendations assuming no mask shortages, but like everyone is milling about doing almost normal life stuff, but 'rona is still going around, I would've been like "well that's a weirdly specific set of constraints but I guess I can see that - yeah actually now that I think about it it's totally plausible people would keep interacting and moving about in large numbers... *deep sigh* okay so yeah if people are regularly going out and there's a realistic chance that they're shedding 'rona and there's plenty of masks they should totally wear masks".

To be clear I would've told you all this for any hypothetical infectious agent spread by human respiration/coughing/sneezing, even before this strain of 'rona was a known thing. Well, that last one, "everyone should wear masks if there's a realistic chance they're shedding it", I would only say if it had severely bad consequences to get infected by it.

That's not to say I would have reached for "let's have everyone wear masks" unprompted - the above is assuming you specifically asked me for mask-related recommendations.

The point of all that is: I know I can't have been the only one, or even particularly rare in this regard. I think there were plenty of people who were also ready and willing to say these full takes to anyone who seemed willing and able to listen. And I think those takes were put out there, they just didn't spread. Less due to deliberate manipulation and more because brevity and punchy reaction-invoking one-liners and controversy will always outcompete detail and nuance and stuff everyone can agree on (unless we all actively work to maintain a culture with very different memetic selective pressures - unlike modern social media and published news/op-ed media).

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lesbeet · 3 years

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wait I would love to know what you think is wrong w oceans 8 I'm v curious I really loved that movie

i’m so sorry in advance but you’re basically getting the word-vomit version of the hypothetical script i would write for this hypothetical video essay so it’s gonna be long lskdjfksjd

but i mean don’t get me wrong i find ocean’s 8 entertaining and i’ve seen it a good number of times, but honestly i kind of consider it like. entertainment junk food lmao

i’ve never seen the original ocean’s eleven that the 2001 remake was based on, but i grew up watching the remake with my dad and i’ve always loved it (i’ve only seen ocean’s 12 and 13 once each and didn’t really care for them, though), so that’s also a factor, but not necessarily in the way you might think

most of the criticism i’ve seen of ocean’s 8 is either 1. along the lines of the criticism disney has (rightfully) been getting for rebooting/remaking/etc all of their older movies just to make money��except considering the 2001 remake is just that, a remake, i feel like that particular critique doesn’t really hold up in this circumstance—or 2. “why do we need a remake with women, this is just ghostbusters all over again, blah blah blah feminism bad” which again like. yes i think the motivation for making the film was more to jump on the trend of #girlboss remakes than anything else, but that doesn’t necessarily result in a bad movie, and i don’t think that was where the movie fell short. in other words, my problem with ocean’s 8 isn’t that it’s a remake, nor that it’s a remake with women

i spent some time this morning watching certain clips from both the 2001 movie and from ocean’s 8, and i think if anything the problem is that ocean’s 8 tried so hard NOT to be a carbon copy of ocean’s 11 that it ended up losing the emotional core that i personally think makes ocean’s 11 so interesting, and more than just a heist film (ok from here on out i’m just gonna call them 8 and 11 bc the word ocean doesn’t even look like a real word to me anymore)

i like that 8 mixed up (some of) the characters’ roles and personalities in comparison to 11; i would’ve been really annoyed if nine ball, for example, had basically just been a female version of livingston, or if constance had been a female version of linus, etc. my biggest gripe in that department is that they clearly tried to make lou (cate blanchett’s character) the female version of rusty, and she just...does not cut it imo. debbie is hardly a female version of danny, but i don’t think they were as overtly trying to paint her that way, which makes their attempt at framing the debbie-lou friendship as analogous to the danny-rusty friendship seem lazy

beyond the characters, the writers (et al) of 8 basically had two other aspects of 11 to evaluate, and to decide how similar or different they wanted their version to be: structure/style, and substance. i think they emphasized the former over the latter, and i think that was the mistake

i wouldn’t necessarily always classify structure and style as a singular aspect of a work, but i think in this case it makes sense, if only because those are (imo) the more recognizable aspects of ocean’s 11, and ones that are most readily available for someone wanting to make a parody or homage or remake or whatever—primarily, the plot beats and the stylistic elements like the visual editing and the soundtrack

in vague terms, the plot is almost identical (excluding the bloated ending of 8). the film opens with ocean convincing a parole board to release them from prison, where they’ve spent their entire sentence plotting the heist. then ocean seeks out their blond best friend and tells them about the elaborate heist, blond best friend tells them they’re crazy but is quickly convinced. ocean and blond best friend travel around to collect old associates and/or other recommended con artists. the group plans and prepares the heist. blond best friend finds out that there’s a hidden element of revenge in the plan and confronts ocean. the plan more or less goes forward as it’s been presented to the audience. then it turns out that there was a whole secret plan unbeknownst to the audience, and we get to see how it plays into what we already knew. the heist is pulled off successfully, including the secret revenge plot by ocean against someone who wronged them. (here’s where 8 departs into what i find to be a really slow-moving and unnecessary thing with james corden the insurance man who does nothing lol)

likewise, imo 8′s aesthetic comes across as a fair ~feminine~ met gala equivalent to 11′s vegas aesthetic, including some similar jazzy guitar/bass action in the score, and the screen wipe transitions

but ocean’s 8 has no substance. that’s the problem.

i referred to a secret revenge plot in my summary, but honestly that’s less my own interpretation than the interpretation i think the writers of 8 were working from. debbie’s secret plot is revenge against whatshisface who wronged her, but danny’s secret plot is to win tess back. he obviously fucks over benedict both romantically and financially in the process, but his primary motivation for everything he does with his heist is to win back the love of his life.

tbh i probably would’ve been annoyed if they’d made debbie’s secret plot an attempt at winning back an ex bc that’s boring and too on the nose for a remake, but in their attempt at not making a carbon copy of 11, the writers of 8 lost the heart of the story. debbie isn’t doing anything for love. (what i think they should’ve done is had it be related to danny somehow, especially bc they killed him off instead of having george clooney make a cameo for some reason). she’s done all this for money and self-satisfaction and revenge, which makes the emotional stakes more or less nonexistent.

we want danny’s heist to succeed because we know how much he loves tess and how desperately he wants her back. we’ve seen benedict treat her like shit and even though danny wasn’t the best husband, he obviously truly cares for her and is putting everything on the line to prove it.

the audience has no reason to cheer debbie and her team on aside from like... #girlpower. the rest of the ensemble is made up of pretty flat characters—which is fine, imo, as long as SOMEONE is the emotional backbone of the story. but in ocean’s 8, there’s none.

like honestly i think community’s ocean’s 11 homage episode does a better job of referencing the structure and style of ocean’s 11 while still rooting itself in its own unique pathos (the study group realizing the dean had been kidnapped bc they realized the real dean loved them and would never have expelled them, and subsequently planning their heist to rescue him (and greendale as a whole))

so ocean’s 8 feels like junk food. it’s flashy and fun and entertaining to watch, but there’s no heart. there’s no reason to root for the protagonist and her team beyond the fact that...she’s the protagonist, and it’s her team. it’s empty calories.

#once again i am so sorry i really got carried away lsdfjsdkf #it's been one of those days!#megantheeface #answered

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solest · 5 years

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I don’t know what happened but I wrote something again. Just thought about Crowley and Aziraphale remembering the influence they had on some artists in the renaissance (well, actually it’s most about Aziraphale’s influence on a certain work of Michelangelo). Thanks to folks in the /r GO discord server for helping me out at some point and a big thanks to @seraph5 for letting me using the bit about Crowley and the statue at the end (it was her idea while I babbled on about this) and for always reading the shit I write XD.

It is 4 am right now and I’m not a native englishspeaker, so I bet there are some mistakes along the way

Here you go:

It was a lovely afternoon for a visit of the museum. The weather was not so much for a walk in the park, so this was a nice way to get out on a little date and reminisce about things one or both of them had a hand in.

Today there was an exhibition about the art of the Renaissance and both, Aziraphale and Crowley remembered one or two things about a lot of it.

Aziraphale came to a halt in front of a prototype of a pietá that was accompanied by a photoset of Michelangelo’s work. The smallish statue showed the depiction of Mary, holding the dead Jesus in her arms. On the right side of Mary’s feet you could see the rest of something that looked suspiciously like a little cherub looking creature but the head was missing and only one wing was still intact.

Crowley stopped when Aziraphale did and eyed him from the side, seeing the fond expression forming on the angel’s face.

“You were involved in this too?”

Aziraphale didn’t look at him when he answered, his gaze still on the statuette. “Ah, I guess you could say that. I just encouraged him to do what he wanted to anyways.”

“That’s a cupid there, isn’t it? And I always thought that Mary looked quite young and not very - you know- motherly.”

Aziraphale chuckled and turned to Crowley, still a smile on his face. “You’re right. But like I said, I only encouraged him. I remember visiting him on a particular evening when he was in one of his foul moods. He wasn’t very happy about me laying eyes on this draft, given that I was just presenting myself as someone from the clerical staff and all…”

He was interrupted by a snort from the demon and Aziraphale frowned at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“One of his foul moods. As far as I remember, he was a walking mood swing. No fun at all.”

“Not everyone could be as flashy as Leonardo. And you know,” Aziraphale raised one eyebrow at the demon, “I guess I have a thing for moody people, my dear.”

Crowley opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn’t moody at all, but Aziraphale turned back to the exhibit and just offered, a smidge smugly “you want to hear the story or not?”

Well, Crowley was curious by nature, so he just let that pass (for now) and Aziraphale remembered.

Michelangelo’s Workshop 1497, Rome

“Oh, what’s that? Is this a draft for Cardinal Jean Bilhères de Lagraulas’s commission? You were quite fast with that my friend”

Aziraphale wanted to take a closer look at the statue on the work bench, but the young artist took a step to block out the view.

“It’s only draft, as you say. It’s not ready to be inspected yet”. Michelangelo’s voice was strained, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if this came from his already not so good mood or the fact that he had seen the unfinished statue. In most cases, it wasn’t much of a problem for Michelangelo to show his progress to the friendly priest, he actually shared them quite readily with him. So it must have been something about the statue itself that made him so nervous.

“You know that you don’t have to hide anything from me, dear boy. I won’t say anything about it if you don’t want to hear my opinion, I swear.” Aziraphale tried to give this a bit more weight with a reassuring smile.

Michelangelo scrunched up his face at that but more in a thinking manner than distaste, the marble dust on his face giving him deeper lines than a young man in his mid-twenties should have.

Aziraphale waited, knowing the process behind the artists thinking now for a while and was rewarded with a deep sigh, followed by a “All right, but no word to anybody Aziraphale! Swear it!”

Well, it must have been something really important if he was asked to do that, but he did it to ease his companions mind. “I swear by everything that’s holy to me. Enough for you?”

Michelangelo nodded and stepped aside, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to watch his work closely. It was a depiction of Mary, holding the dying Jesus in her arms tenderly, quite more so than he had seen on other depictions of that particular scene. The details were breathtaking as always, even though this was only a mere draft for the project; Michelangelo was a perfectionist after all. Mary’s face was fair and young, showing a delicate sadness.

It wasn’t uncommon to interpret the holy mother as young and fair, but something about this one seemed to be a different. The way she was holding the body, draped over her lap had an intimacy to it that was not meant for a mother and her son. Aziraphale’s noticed something on the right side of Mary’s feet and his eyes widened as he realized it was a little cupid, a sign for lovers.

Michelangelo watched Aziraphale closely, wringing his hands nervously and waiting for the priest to say something. “That’s gorgeous, as always, but…I assume that this is not the mother of Christ you’re showing here. It’s Mary Magdalene, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale was saying this just matter of fact way, no judgment or anything suspicious in his voice. Why should he be, he had known that woman, quite a nice young lady. Michelangelo seemed to be in a mix of relived and confused, still tense and brows furrowed.

“Y…yes… I know it’s blasphemous to do such a thing, I won’t do it for the actual statue but…I heard things, Aziraphale, back in Florence, and I just can’t make them unheard!” he nearly whispered this, like he was concerned to get caught at something forbidden. Well, it actually was, for the humans at the Vatican anyways.

Aziraphale had heard about that too, the thesis that Jesus had actually loved and married Mary Magdalene, which would have made him more of a human and less of the holy son of God, untouchable and above the human desires. The angel sighed at the thought of that and smiled fondly at his young friend, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to fear anything Michelangelo; I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’ve heard that too and who said that there’s no truth in that? Well, beside the pope and all, but as a scholar I have to say that rumors always hold a spark of truth within”.

He knew that terrible things had happened to people with that mindset, so he tried to sooth the young man as good as possible.

Michelangelo’s eyes grew wide as moons, hearing that from an actual priest of the Vatican and he grabbed Aziraphale’s other hand in both of his. “You did? Oh tell me, tell me what you’ve read!”

Aziraphale was a bit startled by that outburst but he was relieved that the young man was just showing unbound curiosity now instead of that dreadful anxiety and bad mood.

He suggested to sit down and have drink, while Aziraphale told him about the son of god and Magdalene as if he had read about it somewhere.

He remembered them talking intensely, sitting close to each other and growing closer and closer over the time they spend together. Never once Magdalene forgot who that young man from Nazareth was, but Aziraphale could tell that there was something more. He remembered one conversation with her on a brief meeting, talking about love. She simply said that Jesus loved everybody equally, but Aziraphale could tell from those stolen glances between the two and the waves of a more personal love that he felt that time. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but in the far back of his mind a small voice was telling him, that he sported some similar glances whenever meeting a certain demon.

Michelangelo hung on his lips while he spun that tail, not saying anything to interrupt the priest, which was very unlikely for him. Eventually Aziraphale came to an end.

“And you know, in the end there was something greater than them, I think they both knew. You can’t be selfish when you’re the messiah and all; he had a destiny to fulfill, and she knew that too.” He looked up from his cup, still having all of Michelangelo’s focus on him who had absorbed every word.

Silence fell over them for a moment before the young man spoke again. “That…that sounds very romantic _actually. Where have you read that again?” _

Aziraphale looked back into his cup, trying to come up with something. “Oh a very old scroll. I don’t think that it’s still in the library, something scandalous like this and all. But I hope that this ensures you that your secret is well kept. I wouldn’t recommend the cupid on the actual commission though”

He grinned and Michelangelo answered it with one of his own. After that evening they became actual friends; the young man was always eager to see Aziraphale and complain about that damn bastard da Vinci or he showed him his sketches and drafts. Sometimes he seemed to blush and at one occasion he even asked if he could sketch Aziraphale. But as it always were with the fleeting live of humans and Aziraphale’s duty as an Angel he couldn’t keep that friendship up for too long and they paths separated eventually.

Back to London, present day.

Crowley actually listened to all of this without interrupting. It was quite a nice little story and he remembered his days with Leonardo vividly, also his complaints about this youngsters who behaved like he was walking around with a stick in his arse.

They kept on walking after Aziraphale had finished, when another presumably work of Michelangelo let Crowley stop this time. It was an unfinished statue, not too big but out of the white carrara marble as all the other serious works. Crowley knew why he was drawn to it when he took a better look, growing a grin on his face that showed more teeth than necessary. “I think you left quite the expression, Angel.”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and looked at Crowley, quite confused. “What do you mean? We were good friends I…oh…oh no”

He looked at not quite finished statue of a man that could be some depiction of a saint or an antique figure from roman mythology for how he was shown, but Aziraphale was staring back at his own face, adorned with a soft smile, a scroll in hand and draped in a tunic.

“Well…that is a bit embarrassing. He sketched me once, but I thought that was just for a study and he never told me that he was actually doing, well, this.”

Crowley just laughed at this, thinking of Michelangelo looking longingly at Aziraphale while the angel was oblivious. Well, Crowley got the Mona Lisa so why not an unnamed statue for his angel.

Aziraphale looked at the statue of himself a last time, smiling fondly and moved on then. Crowley just stayed a moment longer, taking in all the details and the love that must have been involved in the process of making this. The artist must have had quite the crush back then. Crowley laughed to himself, muttering a “Me too Michelangelo, me too…” before catching up to Aziraphale.

They stayed in the museum for a little longer, even holding hands at some point and on their way to the Bentley.

Shortly before they reached the car Crowley stopped.

“Ah…I know it was much later, but do you remember Bernini, angel?”

“I do. What are you up to Crowley…?”

“You do know the Statue ‘ecstasy of Saint Teresa’? I may have drunken a bit too much with the guy responsible and I may have told him a little story about you and the good old Teresa…”

He grinned again, all teeth, while Aziraphale was going through pictures of statues in his mind. He watched in delight as the angel found what he mentioned and looked up at him in a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Crowley! I told you about that in private and it was a very awkward situation. I never looked like…like that while doing it!”

Crowley opened the door on the passenger side for Aziraphale while laughing and they kept on arguing about this all the way back to the bookshop. He had not forgotten that commentary about the mood swings.

#good omens #good omens ficlet #good omens drabble #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #go #renaissance nonsense #I knew that crowley was close to Leonardo #so why not make aziraphale close to his rival?#I just like his statues very much

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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630

SEVEN DEADLY SINS

Sin 1: Lust 1. Who was the last person you checked out? Did they check you out too? Surprise surprise, it’s my girlfriend. Yeah she did - I think I’d start worrying if she didn’t, lmao.

2. Who was the last person you desired, but they didn’t feel the same? Gab, at one point. Other than her, I haven’t desired anybody else; but I was on the ‘didn’t feel the same’ side at least once, back when Mike used to like me.

3. Ever cheated on a significant other? If so, have you learned from it? No, I’ve never cheated.

4. Do you watch porn? Yes. I’d have phases where I’d view it 2-3 times a week, then I’d completely stop for months – kinda like how everyone plays The Sims lol. I don’t know why it works like that for me.

5. Do you masturbate? Sometimes.

6. Best physical features on your preferred sex? I don’t have a preferred sex, and my favored features differ per person.

7. Who are some celebrities that you think are totally hot? Kristen Stewart, if you don’t me already haha. Also Eugene Lee Yang from the Try Guys, Beyoncé, and Jennifer Aniston.

8. Did you ever lust after a best friend’s significant other? How did it turn out? Mmm nope, I never found myself attracted to Hans in any way. The fact that he has always been associated with Angela ever since high school also helps.

9. When was the last time you had sex? Like a week before Christmas, I think.

10. Ever pursued someone, even though they were taken? No, that’s a little awful.

Sin 2: Gluttony 1. When did you last eat at a restaurant? What restaurant was it? Last Monday – Gab and I went to Yabu to catch dinner. We had been entertaining my mom’s guests and their kid all day and thought we couldn’t leave the house cos it’s a bit impolite, but I had such a craving that I ended up asking permission if we can go to Yabu by 8:30 even though the mall closed by 9 lol. I realize I talk about Yabu an awful lot on here so for those who wanna know, it’s this local Japanese place that serves theeeee best katsu.

2. When did you last have fast food? Where did you get it? I don’t actually remember. If I’m not wrong, it was around two or three weeks ago, and we had KFC delivered to our house because we were too lazy to cook or go out. I had the Zinger Steak, which I hope they never phase out because it’s insanely good.

3. What was the biggest meal you had all day? I haven’t eaten yet, and it’s only 10:51 AM.

4. Do you have too many clothes? How often do you go shopping? I wouldn’t say it’s overwhelmingly many, but I definitely own more clothes than the pieces I’d usually wear, and that’s because I don’t like throwing old stuff out just in case I’d need them in the future (definitely got my great-grandma’s hoarding tendencies). I go shopping once in a few months, which in itself is pretty seldom, but that’s because when I go shopping I usually already buy a shit-ton of new clothes, enough for me to be able to mix and match to come up with new outfits for the next few weeks.

5. What’s something you have a LOT of? Black clothing. I’ve made an effort to get more colored tops, but the blacks still overpower.

6. Do you eat a lot? I’m very takaw-tingin, which is a Filipino term used when you get a crapload of food either because you’re hungry or because you’re confident you can finish it – or both – then you never do. Takaw means greedy or glutton, tingin roughly means sight, so it literally means that you just kinda want to get everything because it looks like a lot. So to answer the question, I always feel like I can eat a lot, but at the end of the day I just end up with stomachaches and I never learn.

7. What was the last thing you splurged (spent a lot of money) on? If a bunch of stuff counts, then I splurged on Christmas presents for various people that I all bought in one go – I got massage oils, a garlic press, a frisbee, Marikina sandals, lipstick, and Instax film. If you’re talking about a single thing that I had to drop a ton of money on, it was for my dog’s blood test and some arthritis meds that the vet recommended.

8. What do you spend most of your money on (besides bills and anything necessary like that)? I only ever spend on necessities like gas, clothes, and food, honestly. Other than that... I spend on (and this is very seldom) whatever hobby I’m into at the moment. At one point I spent on slime because I got interested in them, and before that – and y’all know about this – I spent my Christmas savings on adult coloring books and pencils.

9. Last time you ate candy? What was it? A week or two ago; I had a Crunch bar.

10. Last thing you ate too much of? Eggs, I think. My mom makes it for breakfast so I have it almost every day.

Sin 3: Greed 1. Do you share things? How often? Yeah I can be pretty generous with my stuff. I know I’d appreciate it when other people lend me their belongings, so I try to do the same. I once lent my phone to Rita for over an hour just because she wanted to play Mario Kart, and I also lent a book that’s really important to me to an online friend I barely knew; it was with him for like two years, lol.

2. Someone asks you for a piece of your cookie. You break it in half, but the pieces aren’t equal. Who gets the bigger piece? Usually it would be me; but if the person who asked for it was Gab, or if that particular person likes the cookie I have, then they get the bigger piece.

3. When you see change on the ground, do you pick it up? Only if it’s a 10-peso coin, because I’m greedily picky like that lmao. Other people might need a peso or a 5-peso coin more, so I leave it be.

4. How often do you lend money to people? I don’t, and that’s one thing I wouldn’t tend to lend. My parents just give me allowance and it’s usually enough for necessities and for treating myself once or twice a week, so I wouldn’t be able to have some left for others. Besides, that’s my parents’ money and it would be pretty fuckin’ unfair to them if I just give it away to others lmao.

5. Do you loooove money? I hate what it’s done to society, how it’s divided the rich and the poor, and how the people with the most money also tend to be the most selfish coughcoughBILLIONAIREScoughcough. But I love spending for my own, hah.

6. If someone offers to pay for you, do you decline or readily accept? Oh no no no. Decline all the way. If they keep insisting then I’ll probably give in because it’s the polite thing to do, but if I can, I’ll keep declining.

7. Which of your friends is the wealthiest? Rita. Her grandpa is a former senator and she lives in literally the swankiest neighborhood in Metro Manila; I was a bit intimidated when she invited us to her place for the first time lol. She’s the simplest person I know, too; and that’s my favorite kind of rich.

8. Would you take a high-paying job that you didn’t really like just for the money and benefits? That’s definitely what I plan to do, lmao. At least this is how I know myself now: I have enough money to buy whatever I want, and I’m a happy camper. That may change in a few months or within the next year and I may eventually wanna search for a passion – but for now, it’s the mindset I’m going with when I go job-hunting soon. If I survived four years of college with a very burnt-out, emptied passion for journalism that I thought I had, I could probs do the same in the workplace.

9. Ever stole from anyone? What about stole from a store? What happened? I unknowingly stole a box of crayons from a store back when security equipment wasn’t that rigid yet lmao. I realized I ‘stole’ it because I had it in my hands and not in a paper bag when I walked out, so I immediately went back to pay for it. I’ve never stolen anything from anyone.

10. Do you ever have enough money? I don’t think anyone ever feels this way. Ever heard of billionaires?

Sin 4: Sloth 1. Last thing you procrastinated on? Washing the dishes last night.

2. When you’re at a strip mall and the next store you want to go to is at the other side, do you drive over there instead of take a short walk? It depends how far “the other side” is. <-- Yep pretty much. If it’s literally on the other side of a street, then obviously I’d go walk. But in places like my school which is super big and where ‘other side’ could mean 2 km away, a drive would be more convenient.

3. What’s a typical day off of school and/or work like for you? I’d normally spend the day lazing around on the couch with my dog beside me and lurking around social media.

4. What’s one talent you have that you don’t really work on, even though you have the ability to be good at it? Public speaking, or debating.

5. How many hours of television do you watch a day? I keep Friends as a background noise on Netflix nearly all day because I hate when it gets too quiet around me. As for watching on an actual television, I haven’t used one in years.

6. What about the amount of time you spend on the internet a day? The internet takes up my entire day it’s crazy lol. I kinda need it for everything now.

7. How many hours of sleep do you get a day? Do you sleep in late? It’s always different. I can go anywhere between 3 and 10 hours of sleep. I don’t sleep in often, though.

8. Do you drive to places that are less than three blocks away? I don’t know how big blocks are supposed to be since we don’t use that system here. But yes, I usually drive even though Point A to Point B is very much walkable hahaha. My friends make fun of me a lot for it but I don’t care, at least I don’t get to my destination all sweaty and smelling like the sun.

9. When was the last time you exercised? November, on my last PE class.

10. Ever copied and pasted your homework from a website on the internet? I never did this. My schools always emphasized the consequences of plagiarism so as someone who always stuck by the rules, I always made sure I at least paraphrased the content I see on the internet.

Sin 5: Wrath 1. If you could kill one person and get away with it, would you do it? I know it’s pretty dark to come from such a place, but I’ve always thought death is an easy way out for people who’ve done awful things. I could answer this question with a name of a corrupt politician, rapists, or animal abusers, but tbh they don’t deserve the sweet escape of death, even if it were from murder.

2. Is there anyone you honestly and truly can say that you hate? Anybody who has hurt cats and dogs.

3. Is there anyone you want revenge on, whether you want to get them back big-time or just play a little prank on them for hurting your feelings? Like I said, I’d daydream about getting revenge just to satiate my desire for it, but I think it’s pretty childish and downright cartoonish to actually go through with it. I’ve only ever seen people getting petty revenge in movies, but it seems a bit stupid in real life.

4. Are you fighting with any friends right now? Why? No. The most that’s happened was me kinda scolding Andrew for not letting me know beforehand that he submitted our thesis proposal to our prof through VIBER, which is incredibly unprofessional and I definitely let him know what I thought about it. I didn’t fight with him though.

5. Last time you were really angry? What happened? The aforementioned thesis prof letting me know we’re missing a part of our thesis on the last day for profs to submit their grades. That meant that however early we submitted a revision, she wouldn’t have been able to give it a mark anyway. That definitely pissed me off, especially considering that she was silent for two weeks and didn’t give back any comments which made us think we were good to go.

6. When you’re angry, what do you do to calm yourself down? I watch Friends or any one of my favorite YouTubers so I can have some relief. Other times, I’d force myself to sleep.

7. “Hate is just the fear of loving someone.” true or false? No. That makes no sense to me.

8. What’s the best revenge you ever got on someone? Never done this before.

9. Was there any hard feelings after your last break-up? On whose end was it on? There were definitely hard feelings in the beginning because she executed the breakup so poorly and I thought I didn’t deserve any of the treatment I was getting, and I was also mad that I wasted my time for that long only for her to break up with me in the end.

10. Ever been cheated on? How did that make you feel? No.

Sin 6: Envy 1. Is there anyone you’re jealous of? Name a person and tell us why. Envious is the better word, and I feel this way towards anybody who live with both parents. My dad’s worked overseas all my life, and as grateful as I am for his sacrifices, having a dad at home is more foreign sensation to me than the idea of having a dad who’s gone for 4-6 months a year.

2. List three physical features some other people have that you’re envious of (no need to get specific and name people; you can just say something like “brown eyes” or “having perfect eyebrows”). Straight teeth, fixed eyebrows, legs that don’t need much shaving.

3. List three personality features that other people have that you’re envious of. Confidence, independence... is privilege a personality trait lol?

4. Are you a jealous significant other? I can be. I don’t make a big deal about being jealous as much as I did two or three years ago anymore though.

5. Could you date someone who was really jealous? Gab can be a little jealous but for the most part it’s endearing because it’s never turned into abuse.

6. What celebrity’s looks do you envy the most? Audrey Hepburn.

7. Do you think anyone is envious of you? In your opinion, what characteristics (physical and mental) do you possess that you think someone might be envious of? Being in a long-term relationship, definitely. A lot of people my age want significant others so bad, and I know this because a good chunk of them post the same wish over and over on social media lol.

8. What are a few things you wish you were good at? Drawing, playing an instrument, dancing ballet, changing a car tire, COOKING.

9. Did you ever date someone, break up, and then see them dating someone very attractive a few days later? Were you jealous of that person? This has never happened to me.

10. When looking at a love interest’s exes, do you often find yourself jealous of their good-looking exes? I haven’t had to do this, because I was Gab’s first. I wouldn’t want to fixate on exes if I were in a different situation, though.

Sin 7: Pride 1. What’s something you brag about a lot (be honest–we all brag sometimes)? My school is easy bragging rights. Everybody wants to be in UP.

2. What physical features do you take the most pride in? My body figure in general. Also my fingers, legs, and jawline.

3. Are you satisfied with what you have? Yeah but as the above questions have made it clear, I can always use more money lol.

4. Be honest… when someone is telling you something, do you often change the subject so it’s about you and your accomplishments instead? NEVER. That’s one of the worst things anyone can do. I feel like I used to do this when I was younger, then it just hit me one day about how tasteless it can be so ever since then I’ve let other people hype themselves up and be excited about accomplishments or new things in their life as much as they want with me, as long as they aren’t being so conceited.

5. Do you like talking about your achievements? If I’m in a group and we started sharing our achievements then yeah I’d join in. But I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t already being brought up. It’s better to let the accomplishments speak for themselves.

6. Do your parents tend to brag about how well you came out? My mom is definitely more ~braggier than my dad, but she’s never come off as an asshole about it. If she was, I’d pull her aside.

7. Do you strive to be better than others? Do you think competing with others is healthy? I keep a mindset of competing with others, but I keep it internal.

8. What do you do better than most people? See the little details. I’m always surprised at how most of the people I work with just look at the big picture – like how they don’t pay attention to the red squiggle under misspelled words on a group paper (or if they do see it, they don’t do anything about it), or how they don’t seem to care about proper spacing on a Powerpoint and proceed to just dump a bunch of text on one slide. Now this is something I can brag about too, cos a lot of people are just so not detail-oriented lol.

9. Do you believe in taking pride in things you can’t control (ex. being proud of your heritage, being proud of your skin color, being proud of your natural artistic ability)? I don’t see why that’s an issue.

10. Who are you competing with right now (it could be anything–classmates for a grade, co-workers for a position, other girl for a guy, etc.)? There’s no particular person, but like I said, I’m always in this perpetual mindset of wanting to compete with others just so I’m more motivated to perform well and get things done.

#survey #surveys #this was fun

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sportsnightnut · 5 years

Note

scully/stella prompt: they meet in London doing something entirely ordinary and boring (as so many fics begin in a bar). they're grocery shopping, taking the tube, at the market, the bank - you choose!

Oh, this was such a fun prompt. Thank you, my friend! This is my first Scully/Stella fic, and I gotta tell you, all it makes me want to do is write more.

Enjoy! 💛

i’ll buy you dinner first

5:37. Not much of an on-time departure from the office, but when has that ever been the case, really?

It’s Friday night and it’s been raining the whole damn week, as it’s apt to do this time of year in London. Stella wants to get home, kick off these stilettos in the middle of the floor without giving a fuck exactly where they land, have a glass or three of wine. But then she remembers she used the last of her coffee this morning, so she needs to stop on the way home to replenish it, lest Saturday morning turn into something mildly miserable. Ten more minutes in these shoes, she tells herself. You can do that. Just ten more minutes.

She shrugs on her trench coat and slings her bag over her shoulder. She’d been invited to go out with colleagues, but had politely declined. Social activities, particularly on a Friday evening, have never really been of interest to her. Friday night means home, silk pajamas, wine, a movie. And besides, she knew it was more of a pity invite than anything. Her colleagues like and respect her, sure, but the boss isn’t usually anyone’s first choice for a happy hour companion (unless it’s a party and the boss is buying, which was not the case in this instance).

Stella flips the lights off, starts making the trek home. There’s a Sainsbury’s between the office and her flat, so she decides to pop in there. They have a fine enough coffee selection, and maybe she can grab something to go with the leftover chicken in her fridge while she’s at it.

No basket, no trolley, because then she’ll buy more than she needs. Just straight for the coffee and tea aisle, stopping only to pick up a box of pasta on the way.

But then Stella rounds the corner and nearly drops the box of angel hair she’s holding. She comes dangerously close to running into, and subsequently toppling over, the cardboard display case of seasonal herbal tea.

Because in front of her is perhaps one of the most beautiful human beings Stella has ever seen.

She’s a bit shorter than Stella, although they’re probably a similar height without the stilettos. Fierce, dark red hair–one might even call it auburn–skims her shoulders. Stella’s first coherent thought is that all she wants to do is touch it, run her hands through it. God, it looks soft. I’m sure it would look similarly good spread out beneath her head on my pillow.

The woman is wearing a simple black dress and a gray cardigan with a pair of shiny black flats. She’s leaning against her trolley, standing in front of the coffee, looking absolutely baffled.

And the only thing Stella can conclude is that she absolutely must approach this woman. Because clearly she needs help. And clearly Stella should be the one to help her.

“Are you…looking for something?” Stella asks, stepping toward her. The woman raises her head and her lips turn up into a sweet smile.

Holy shit, she’s stunning. Stella swallows. Hard.

“I’m relatively new to London,” the woman starts.

Oh, Christ, she’s American. She’s gorgeous and her accent is fucking adorable.

“This is…well, I’ve never bought coffee here before, so I don’t know what to get. None of these brands are familiar to me. I mean, there’s Starbucks, but I don’t like Starbucks that much, and…” she stops explaining, realizing she’s started to ramble. “I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you meant when you asked if I needed help.”

“Oh, no, that’s exactly what I meant,” Stella replies smoothly. “The store brand is fine, but I enjoy Taylors.” She points to one, her maroon polish shining in the light as she taps the bag with her index finger. “This blend is quite lovely.”

The woman smiles at Stella. “Thank you,” she says, and reaches for the coffee. Stella hands it to her, causing their fingers to touch, and she thinks she might die right here in the middle of Sainsbury’s because even though it was only half a second, she could tell how warm and soft the woman’s hands are and her mind immediately jumped to all the places she’d like those hands to be.

“You’re quite welcome. I’m Stella, by the way.”

“I’m Agent–” she stops herself, shakes her head. “Sorry. Still used to introducing myself that way. I’m Dana.”

Stella cocks her head, looks the woman up and down. “Agent, hm? From the States?”

Dana nods. “Yes. Dana Scully, formerly a Special Agent for the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

God, what a fucking turn-on.

“So what brings you to London, then, Dana?”

“I’m a physician. I went to medical school before I was recruited by the FBI. A former colleague of mine recommended me for a position at a clinic here. I was ready to get away from my life in D.C. Too much history, a little too much pain.” Dana pauses. “I’m sorry, I’m practically telling you my entire life story in the middle of a grocery store.”

Stella smiles and touches Dana’s arm gently, wanting her to know it’s okay. She seems lonely, maybe a little uneasy being in a new country on her own. But god, a Special Agent for the FBI? It seems to suggest that she would understand Stella’s life, at least in some ways.

“No need to apologise. I work for the Metropolitan Police. Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson, to introduce myself officially. So I know a bit about what that life is like, Agent Scully.”

“Oh, wow,” Dana breathes. “Yes, you certainly do. Well–thank you for this,” she says, holding up the bag of coffee beans. “It was awfully nice of you to assist a stranger.”

“I could walk around with you a bit, if you like,” Stella proposes. “Help you get the lay of the land. Answer any other questions that may arise about British groceries.”

Dana giggles, and Stella is sure she’s going to die on the goddamn spot. It’s this sweet, sexy sound she wants to hear again. And again. And in other contexts, too.

She agrees readily. “I’d like that, Stella.”

Dana tries not to make it obvious that she’s trembling slightly as she walks alongside Stella. This woman is the definition of alluring. Long blonde hair curled at the ends, a little bit of makeup, the kind that makes it look like she really isn’t wearing any. A silky emerald blouse, a black pencil skirt, and tall stilettos that basically beg for Dana to notice her calves as she strides confidently down the aisle.

And she’s in law enforcement, which is (unsurprisingly) a major turn-on. Stella gets it. She knows the life, the job, the responsibilities, all of which require a certain commanding presence that Dana can’t help but think would come in useful in…certain situations.

And Dana is sure she looks really fucking hot wielding a weapon.

(Also, has she mentioned the British accent?)

Here’s the thing: Dana has never been with another woman. Not fully, anyway. Not in the “we’re in a relationship” kind of way. There was Lauren, an undergrad classmate who lived in her dorm senior year, but they only ever flirted, and usually only when drinking. Then in med school, there was Abby, who was in her surgery rotation. Abby was the closest she ever got, and it was mostly flirting with a few relatively innocuous makeout sessions (although it was always while sober, which made it feel very different from Lauren).

So the fact that Dana is incredibly, incredibly attracted to this woman has her more than a little unnerved.

They walk down the aisles together, Stella pointing out the locations of necessities like cereal and pasta, what the best baked goods are, what’s worth paying a little extra for and what’s just as good in the store brand. When Dana chooses a package of chocolate-filled croissants from the bakery, all Stella can think about is eating them with her. Naked, in bed, on a post-coital Sunday morning.

She clears her throat.

As they approach the dairy section, Stella observes that Dana seems a bit cold. Either that, or she’s inexplicably standing closer to Stella, which she admittedly wouldn’t mind.

She’s having trouble getting a read on Dana: she’s clearly not in a relationship now, as she moved to London alone (and mentioned something about moving away from something or someone painful). But she agreed to Stella’s company, and it seems like she’s been finding reasons to stand closer to her, accidentally brush against her. Didn’t move her hand away when Stella let hers linger for a moment longer than necessary.

But it’s still unclear if she’s that kind of interested.

The same cannot be said for Stella.

Dana is stunning, sexy. Beautiful and badass, and Stella wants her. Bad.

So as she shows Dana which cream she likes best for coffee, she reaches for the appropriate container and sets it in the trolley without ever breaking eye contact, her gaze focused on the woman next to her. They’re already close, but Stella leans in even closer, gets a hint of Dana’s perfume. She smells like raspberries and jasmine and everything good in the world. God, she wants to bury her face in her neck and perhaps stay there forever, just nibbling at that perfect ivory skin.

“Dana,” she starts. Her voice is dark, quiet, so none of their fellow shoppers nearby can hear what she’s saying. “If you don’t want this, you can tell me to kindly fuck off, and I will. But I feel compelled to tell you that you’re absolutely fucking beautiful and I would like nothing more than to take you home with me.”

Dana blushes, but not out of embarrassment, exactly. Stella knows the look, the reaction, this particular shade of flushed pink on the cheeks. It’s the reaction of someone who’s been “figured out,” so to speak. The reaction of someone who is pleasantly surprised that Stella finds her attractive in that way.

But it’s the cutest fucking thing, and it manages to warm Stella’s otherwise cold heart.

Oh, god, this woman is going to do me in, she thinks. First I proposition her in the middle of a grocery store and the next thing I know I’ve got a fucking crush on her and I’m about to turn down a night of incredible sex so I can date her instead.

“Let me add this,” she says before Dana can respond, her voice still low and dangerously close to Dana’s ear. “I’ll buy you dinner first. At least once if not twice. Maybe three or four times. I’ll kiss you after the first time. And I’ll take you out for coffee. Oh, yes, definitely coffee. And really, whatever else you desire. Dessert, wine, whiskey, anything. Then after an appropriate amount of dates and innocent kisses, I’ll take you home with me. Pour you a glass of red wine while you stand in my kitchen. I’ll kiss you, but not as innocently as I kissed you before. And then I’ll touch you in as many places as you’ll allow me.”

It’s Dana’s turn to swallow. Hard.

“Yes,” she says almost inaudibly.

Dana says the word “yes” faster than her brain can process what’s happening.

She was relatively certain, throughout this entire encounter, that Stella found her attractive. It was mostly from the look in her eyes: caring and kind, yes, but also a little bit feral. It was clear when she put the coffee creamer in the cart that this was more than a friendly gesture. There was a want, a desire in her eyes, a look Dana hasn’t been on the receiving end of in years.

And the thought of being on the receiving end of it now terrifies her. Not because it’s a woman, not because it’s Stella. Because it’s been a long time.

But it’s been long enough.

And she wants Stella just as badly.

“Yes?” Stella repeats, somewhat unable to believe that this beautiful creature wasn’t intimidated by the fact that she was incredibly direct about her intentions.

“Dinner sounds nice. And coffee. And…those other things you mentioned.” Dana clears her throat, and Stella thinks it’s absolutely adorable because it’s clear that Dana is flustered and nervous. But this also means she finds you attractive, Stella. Shit, the woman just agreed to go out on multiple dates with you knowing that at least part of your motivation is to get her into your bed.

Stella takes one small step back so she can look at Dana. She reaches over, caresses her cheekbone with her thumb, restrains herself from pushing her up against the cartons of milk and taking her right there. “Dinner it is, then. Anywhere you’d like. Tomorrow night.”

#scully/stella #scullyxstella #first encounter fic #the fall #dana scully #stella gibson #man this was fun to write

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forasecondtherewedwon · 6 years

Note

Hello could you do 5 & 7 for sweet pea x Betty please? 😊

Hello! I certainly can! Please enjoy Sweet Pea and Betty’s adventures in babysitting!

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

AND

7. “You did what?!”

Betty was on her knees in the laundry room, sorting pastel baby clothes fromeven paler pastel baby clothes, when she heard Sweet Pea scream. Although shetried to rise quickly, one of her feet was asleep and she barely managed toprevent herself from toppling over the laundry basket.

“Sweet Pea?” she called back in alarm, grabbing the doorjamb and whippingherself out into the hallway. He didn’t reply.

What could be wrong? He’d accidentally hurt one of Polly’s twins? He’d seena suspicious figure moving in the backyard? The other Black Hood, yet to beapprehended? Betty panicked as she ran to the kitchen, where she’d left SweetPea in charge of feeding the babies the organic, dog-food-looking mush thatPolly had been recommended by someone from ‘the farm.’

When she slid on sock feet into the dining room, Betty saw both Juniper andDagwood sitting in their highchairs, the former looking slightly startled whilethe latter chortled to himself, staring towards the kitchen. Betty followed thebaby’s gaze to her boyfriend, who was clutching a hand to his eye.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, hurrying to him. “What happened?”

She tried to peel the hand away from his face, but Sweet Pea wouldn’t lether.

“Juniper didn’t want her orange, mashed up… whatever it was… so I gave it toDag.”

“You did what?! Sweet Pea, I told you, Dagwood only likes the green, um,whatever it is.”

“I thought he’d play ball for me, Betty,” he explained, squinting one-eyedat her. “I figured if I sat him down, man to man… Ouch.”

Betty sighed and gripped her boyfriend by the elbow, steering him to thesink.

“Come on, you probably have baby food in your eye. Bend over the sink andwash it out.”

“Actually, I think it’s the way Dag jabbed the spoon into my eye that didthe most damage,” Sweet Pea reasoned, tucking his dog tags into the neck of hist-shirt so they wouldn’t swing into the sink.

“Why was he holding the spoon?”

“Well, he wouldn’t eat the stuff when I pretended it was an airplane, ahelicopter, a firetruck, or a motorboat, and I was running out of transportationnoises, so I thought I’d let him have a try at it. Which is when Zorro Jr.thrust for my eyeball.”

Sweet Pea waved her off as she attempted to splash water up into his face.

“Chill, Betty. I’ve had a lot worse, you know.”

Unneeded and startled by the reminder, Betty retreated to the dining room,kissing Juniper’s forehead, then lifting the grinning and kicking Dagwood fromhis chair. Thank goodness nothing serious had happened and she could give apositive report to her mom and Polly when they returned home from a much neededmovie night. As many times as she attempted to mollify herself with thatthought, Sweet Pea’s words echoed in her head like dripping water in a cave.

“Betty?”

She glanced over to see Sweet Pea dragging the hem of his shirt across hiswet face. The smile wouldn’t stick on her mouth as she approached him, Dagwoodleaning forward in her arms.

“Did I scare you?”

“Of course not,” Betty replied shortly. “You don’t scare me.”

With a grin, Sweet Pea laid a hand over his heart.

“Way to kick a guy when he’s down.” She didn’t reply, rubbing her face intothe side of the baby’s head. Sweet Pea groaned. “I do stupid shit, Betty. Sometimesit’s for a good reason, but that doesn’t protect me from getting hurt. I can’tjust stop being the way I am because I’m with you now. The tattoo on my neckisn’t the only thing that makes me a Serpent.”

He pointed a long finger at the gang mark, exposing the old knife nicks onthe back of his hand. Heart getting squeezed somewhere in her throat, Bettyreached out and took that hand, balancing Dagwood in her other arm.

“I know―” she started.

“There aren’t two versions of me,” Sweet Pea interrupted heatedly. “Thereisn’t the gang member and the babysitter, two separate dudes.”

“Sweet Pea, I know that. I just… Inever want you to get hurt because of me.”

Her boyfriend laughed hard and Dagwood rocked in her arms, trying to getover to the grinning boy in black whom he’d readily adopted as his uncle.

“There’s one thing that has changed,” Sweet Pea admitted, taking the babyfrom Betty while she went to get Juniper, who was beginning to fuss. “I’m goingto take care of you, ok? The exact same way I know you’d take care of me.”

Betty opened her mouth to argue, but her boyfriend cut her off.

“No, you have to accept that,” Sweet Pea instructed. “I’m always going tothrow myself on a knife for you, babe.”

“Or a plastic baby spoon,” Betty said wryly, the funny expression on herniece’s face making her smile, “as the case may be.”

Prompts come from the narrowed down list here!

#my writing #drabble #riverdale drabble #southside serpents #southside serpents drabble #swetty drabble #swetty #sweet pea #betty cooper #dagwood and juniper #betty x sweet pea #sweet pea x betty #betty cooper x sweet pea #sweet pea x betty cooper #sweetbee #sweetb #sweetbetts #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction

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nocteverbascio · 7 years

Text

lintz - what i left behind (10-11/?)

Pairing: Sydney Katz/Maggie Lin Summary: AU. Post S3, when Sydney leaves, she leaves for good. Without realizing it, Maggie feels like something is missing in her life. The story where Sydney leaves breadcrumbs for Maggie to follow but Maggie doesn’t realize it. A/N: sorry im running into some writers block because this turned into a longer project than i intended so its a bit daunting but rest assured im going to finish this there’s gonna be some lintz goodness here!

ao3 link

“I see your emails, Maggie,” Alex announces as she walks into her room with her chart.

“Those better be my discharge papers,” Maggie says as she stares at Alex. She doesn’t move to get up though. The moving table has her laptop and several books open. She’s in the middle of studying.

Alex throws a cheeky smile at her. “What did you threaten Jackson with to get all this?”

“Har har,” Maggie returns sarcastically. “I already had them in my locker. I know your schedules too well that I covertly made it there and back without you knowing.”

“You should be resting.”

“I have been.”

“Maggie, when’s the last time you went on a vacation?”

“I was just in Boston a couple of weekends ago,” Maggie reminds. “I have a lot of work to do. Second round of interviews with BWH are in a few days.”

Alex shuts her mouth. She knows how stubborn Maggie can get, but she also knows that Maggie is clearly working hard to overcompensate for something. Or in this case, someone. “Well, when that’s done with, maybe it’ll be good to take time off before jumping into your new job,” Alex suggests.

Maggie scoffs. “If I get it.” Alex narrows her eyes and Maggie sees this.

Alex is about to respond when a ringing starts from Maggie’s laptop. She glances over. “Sydney Katz?”

“Yeah, just one second--” Maggie accepts the call.

“How old do I look to you?” Sydney sharply asks, frustration clear in her voice. Maggie smiles at the flustered look on her pale skin. “You wouldn’t believe what this intern had the nerve to say to me today--”

“Hey, Syd,” Maggie starts, glancing at Alex, who raises her eyebrows. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Sydney asks.

Maggie opens her mouth to talk when Alex steps beside Maggie into the camera view.

“Oh! Hello, Dr. Reid,” Sydney greets in surprise.

“Hi, Dr. Katz,” Alex casually returns. “It’s nice to see your face after so long.”

Sydney shuts her mouth. “I’ve been really busy. How is Luke doing? He should be toddling around by now,” she jokes politely.

Maggie holds back a smile as Alex glances at Maggie, noticing a change in Sydney’s demeanor.

“Luke’s doing great, thanks for asking,” Alex says. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well,” Sydney answers. “I should let you go. I can call back later.” She glances at Maggie to see if that’s okay.

Alex sees the looks between them and finds it’s time to bow out. But Maggie says goodbye too quickly and presses the end call before Alex can protest.

Maggie bites her lip as she closes her laptop. “So, the discharge papers?” she diverts.

“So, video calls?” Alex prods playfully.

“You said I should talk to her and now I am,” Maggie deflects back to Alex.

“Mmm.”

“Don’t be weird about this. We’re just talking.”

“How long have you been talking?”

“Just a couple of days,” Maggie brushes off. “She worries about me since the bombing.”

“Hmm.”

“Stop that.”

Alex lets out an innocent, “What? I’m not saying anything.”

Maggie gives her a serious look. And if that look could kill. “You’re being weird about this. Don’t make it weird. We’re just talking like friends.”

“Were you ever just friends?” Alex asks.

Maggie blushes. “Whatever. Are you going to discharge me or what?”

Maggie knows full well she and Sydney have been...more than friends.

xi.

Maggie realize she can’t stand being at home. The week she gets discharged, she spends approximately two days cleaning up her small apartment before realizing there isn’t much else for her to do. Outside of work, she realizes she hasn’t had a hobby in years.

Her dating life is also abysmal but to be honest, with how things are going with work, it feels like she can actually focus on herself now.

She tries not be too hasty. She takes a day to go on a hike, ride her bike, and tries to see a movie. She relearns how to properly make tea, meticulously grooms her nails, and tries to cook three times a day. It’s relaxing but feels purposeless. The most productive thing she was able to do was the second round interview with BWH, which had felt stellar. By the end of the week, she’s more than ready to go back to Hope Zion.

Maggie is getting checked out by Shahir when she gets a page from Dawn.

“Dr. Lin, I see that you’re back sooner than expected,” Dawn states impassively as she stands in the doorway.

“Yeah, can’t really stay away,” Maggie says in return. “Shahir said I was clear and I am ready to work.”

Dawn looks at her skeptically but nods. “That’s good to hear. I also wanted to let you know that Dr. Carter is moving to Montreal in two weeks.”

Maggie stares, briefly confused. “Does that mean...?” she lets her question trail off by the way Dawn assesses her. There’s an imperceptible smile on Dawn’s lips as she nods.

“I know that you have been pursuing opportunities elsewhere.” Of course Dawn knows, she helped Maggie prep for her interview. “However, I think you’ve proven yourself to be a competent doctor here at Hope Zion. We’d be very pleased to have you on staff.”

Maggie feels elated at this news. Just by the way Dawn, out of all people, is the one to tell her. She’s not going to lie she used to hate Dawn, but she respected the shit out of the woman. Now for Dawn to tell her of this opportunity? It’s like her moment at Hope Zion has finally come.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Bell,” Maggie chirps happily.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dawn drawls. “You have some time to make a decision, so use it wisely.”

“Of course,” Maggie practically bows with her nod. “I will let you know soon.”

“Maggie?” Dawn stops her as she readily leaves her office. “You’ve done a good job.”

Maggie can’t help but smile as she leaves Dawn’s office. She teeming with excitement as she bounces through the halls. It’s finally here. Her opportunity. Oh god, her opportunities. BWH hasn’t gotten back to her just yet, but she knows their decision is coming soon.

As she makes her way to find Alex, she can feel the vibration in her pocket.

She pulls out her phone to see Sydney’s name for a video chat. Maggie smiles even harder as she clicks the green button. “Hey there.”

Sydney is dressed in her scrubs and scrub cap on. She tilts her head, inspecting Maggie’s face. “You’re too thin,” she deadpans.

Maggie chews the inside of her cheek. “Are you Jewish mothering me or ex-girlfriending me?” she asks as she turns into the on call room.

“I didn’t know we were exes,” Sydney jokes back.

“Not really just friends either,” Maggie reminds with a coy smile.

“Are you at work right now?” Sydney switches gears suddenly, noticing when Maggie sits down on a cot. Maggie nods. She looks disapprovingly. “It’s so soon after the accident, are you sure you should be back?”

“I’d rather be back with a headache than surfing daytime television.”

“Fair enough.”

Maggie purses her lips. “So...you’re calling me at work now?” The smile hasn’t ebbed since leaving Dawn’s office.

Sydney smiles gently. “I just got a call from Dr. Shepard actually because someone put me down as a reference for an application.”

“You technically made yourself my reference when you highly recommended me,” she gently prods. They haven’t spoken about that just yet, but now seems like a good a time as any. “Apparently, you talk about me a lot.”

Sydney tries to remain impassive but she smiles playfully at Maggie. “You’re a good doctor, Maggie, sue me if I talk about your work. It’s not like I sing praises to everyone about you.”

Maggie wiggles her eyebrows at Sydney that makes her turn red. “Seriously though, baruch hashem and thank you, of course.” Sydney’s eyes subtly widen. “I feel like a lot of things have changed and somehow you’ve played a part in it.”

Sydney softens at this with a wistful sigh. “It was all of your hard work too Maggie.”

Maggie learns that when it comes to her, Sydney has a hard time taking a compliment. So she’ll let it slide this time.

“Brigham and Women’s would be lucky to have you.”

For a second Maggie falters because she faces a new conflict. If she does get the job at BWH would she want to go knowing that there’s one here for her at Hope Zion? She stayed in Toronto because she thought her time would come. Now that it has, seeing Sydney being so encouraging and having recommended her for so many things, it feels wrong to not take the opportunity. Maggie could get out of there, make a life in Boston, do great things in a new environment.

Sydney catches on too quickly. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem excited anymore.”

Maggie shakes her head, trying to find the right words. “I am, I am---” Sydney hums knowingly and Maggie frowns. “I’m still excited. I guess, I’m a little conflicted?”

Sydney looks at her with concern.

Maggie doesn’t know why it’s so easy to talk to Sydney. She doesn’t know why she wants to talk to Sydney about this. It’s like her opinion actually matters. Maybe it’s because she was her mentor or maybe it was because it felt nice having a friend to talk to. Or maybe it was because it was Sydney. A different version of Sydney that Maggie feels closer to.

“What’s going on?” Sydney asks. She is genuinely concerned.

“I just got back from seeing Dawn and she mentioned a staff position here opening up,” Maggie lets out with a heavy heart. “She asked me to think about it.”

Sydney’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, wow.”

Her surprise is subdued but Maggie doesn’t have the heart to ask. She already feels kind of guilty that she’s happy by the prospect of becoming a staff OB at Hope Zion.

“That’s good news though, Maggie,” Sydney says softly.

Maggie nods, a bit delayed. “I know,” she responds. “They’re both great opportunities and I just feel a bit overwhelmed now that I think about it. It’s not like I was expecting these things to happen all at once.” Maggie blushes as Sydney intently listens to her. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney smiles gently. Maggie’s sure if Sydney was there, she’d hold her hand, which she really wouldn’t mind right now. “Hmm. Just take your time making your decision. You’ll know what the right one is when the time comes.”

“Thanks, Syd.”

Sydney bobs her head. In the background, a pager goes off. Sydney looks at it quickly. “I’m sorry, I have a consult.”

“Of course, we’ll talk soon.”

Sydney smiles before ending the call. Maggie sits there for a few minutes wondering why it made her both happy and conflicted that Sydney called her at just the right moment.

#lintz #maggie x sydney #saving hope #save me #they belong together and nothing changes how i feel about them #i feel alot #dont mind me #rambling tag #what i left behind

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quowreadspact · 7 years

Text

Damages 2.4

“You took your time,” I said.

“We were prompt,” the older man said. Unlike my grandmother, he had the roughness of old age in his voice. Somehow more human than she’d been. “But if it helps, we can start the timer from the moment we made eye contact.”

I mean, for being summoned? Yeah, took awhile. But they are sentiment, at beck and call, but I assume not just waiting around for the Thornburn family. Also way to be rude to someone your’re scared of Blake goddamn. Also timer? Yay more limits...

“Are you devils?” I asked. “Demons?”

The older man chuckled. With the coarser voice, he did sound a little sinister in that moment. “Some would say that.”

“What would the rest say?” I asked. I looked at Rose, praying for some backup, but she still seemed out of sorts.

“The remainder would call us practitioners,”

So basically practitioners that gave up so much of their humanity that they can be considered almost demons. Pretty standard for a lawyer, AMIRIGHT HAHA QUE THE LAUGHTRACK.

“We’re hoping to include the heir of the Thorburn estate in our number,” the old man told me.

“You want me to work for you? Did my grandmother take the deal?” I asked.

“Madam Thorburn didn’t, bless her,” the older man said. He smiled, as if he was acknowledging how odd it was for him to say that. “She took a harder road. She needed power, as we said. I can’t say what for, but I’m sure you could figure it out.”

I see. So he could join their lil law coven. A way out. I’m sure there are catches and things to consider, but I hope he does at least consider it. Meta says he won’t though.

“How?” I asked. Why was the axe acting up? It was almost as bad as it had been outside, now.

Be careful that Miss Cold Ghost doesn’t act up now. You never did seal her.... why does Blake put shit off ugggh. I know he didn’t have much of a chance but how about he tells lawyers he needs a second, sends em away, seals ghost, then re summons. Aaaa.

The old man answered, “The cogs that operate in the background take to grinding you up instead. Funds, treasured belongings, friendships, love, they are all harder to find and easier to lose. Enemies, danger, chaos, and disruption find you more readily. In looser terms, all Others, spirits and practitioners get the sense, innate or otherwise, that they can and should work against your interests. Things start to fall apart, and the pieces fall down in the least convenient arragements for you.”

“The universe,” the young man said, “conspires against you.”

Heh Wildbow made a typo here that was never corrected. Arragements vs arrangements. Anyways. Yeah that’s Blake’s situation in a nutshell. Please Mr. Lawyer man, tell us not only how to survive but how to get in a better situation, Please... Please...

“Joining you?” I asked.

“That’s option two. Option one is that you die. Violently,” she said. The smile didn’t even flicker. “The elastic snaps, and you two find yourself in an ugly situation. If you’re lucky, you can find the time and opportunity to call us, and we’d arrange a prompt solution.”

Right so, dying is option one, very positive, very good sign there... Molly got rid of some bad karma at least :( Rip...

“Karma has very little to do with good and evil,” the blonde woman said. “It has a great deal to do with right and wrong.”

Another theme of this work. “Good and right are not synonyms.” Supported by the “technically lying/actual lying” and such.

“Directly? No. Indirectly? He tricked me and left me for the monsters to eat. We’d only just met. Unless the whole history of my family counts as a provocation.”

“You’d be secure. It would even benefit you. You should be able to find all of this information in the textbooks of the library.”

Oh my god, really? If Blake could pull this off it’d be great! Hell yeah! Go for it! RUIN HIM!

“You offend the community, the community retaliates, and the balance is maintained. If the community acts against you and it’s unjust, then there is imbalance, and this weighs heavier than matters between individuals. Clever individuals with some knowledge on how to use and manipulate karma could theoretically survive and ride the backlash to a position at the top.”

Even if karma isn’t affected and someone else can get more power, it is still something to consider. Laird is very dangerous... but then again, others seem much more so.

“These are the sorts of things Rose should have taught you. Any more questions?”

“I’ve probably spent way too long asking about stuff I could read in books,” I said. “But this is useful grounding to have.”

“And we probably wouldn’t have gotten around to those books for another few weeks,” Rose said.

Well Rose said she wouldn't teach stuff to her kids, not grand kids right? I don’t know why she didn’t try to tell anyone anything. I don’t know. The situation was complicated. She left a note at least? ha. ha. ha. And yeah, way too much info, and it is scattered between less useful info. Lawyer visit was worth it so far. Very much so.

“If you wish. I or one of my partners will look one of you in the eyes and inform you exactly what we’re doing, when it comes up.”

“Why do you want me?” “We don’t. Quite frankly, you’re useless to us at this point,” the young man said. “But things do change.” “And… the cost is a few thousand years of servitude? To clear my entire family’s debt?” “That is part of the cost,” he said. “Any true mark you made on the world is painted over. If you want to rise in the ranks and become partner, you’ll need to give up your name, possibly aspects of your identity. Easier than it sounds, after a few decades or centuries of long days, your past life well behind you.”

Honestly? Doesn’t sound too bad... I like the escape clause. Blake can try to survive, but if he doesn’t, at least he has the lawyers. I wonder why Molly didn’t take the option. Didn’t get a chance to meet them maybe? They didn’t want her at all?

“Know how to defend yourself,” the old man said. “If you wish, we can arrange for an errand boy, to handle groceries and purchases. You’d be limited to the house all the same.”

I would sooo take them up on this offer. Granny is rich both in magic and money. Make use of it.

I nodded absently. I couldn’t quite figure out what had bothered me. Something elusive one of them had just said.

Well time for me to look back and make some guesses on what is bothering Ol’ Blake.

If you want to rise in the ranks and become partner, you’ll need to give up your name, possibly aspects of your identity. Easier than it sounds, after a few decades or centuries of long days, your past life well behind you.”

Maybe giving up identity bothers him? Like all of this is so vague...

“Blake has to marry a man?” Rose asked.

“Mr. Thorburn has to do no such thing,” the older man said. “It has been left up to our discretion, to evaluate Mr. Thorburn’s progress and evaluate him regularly, keeping the intentions of the departed Mrs. Thorburn in mind all the while.”

Neat. Marry a woman at some point then. Minor problem solved.

I do recommend you marry, and I’d even recommend you marry a man, because fulfilling an obligation is an advantage that can help you survive.

Because karma?

“But there’s something else, isn’t there?” I asked, before I could get interrupted again. “Hundreds or thousands of years of employment, a loss of identity, a loss of our name. But you didn’t say that’s everything.”

“No. We didn’t,” the blonde lawyer said.

“What’s the catch?” I asked.

She frowned. “In the process of signing the contract, you agree to give them a foothold.”

“Them?” Rose asked.

“Them. You should know who I mean. You hand over things of value, and they take them. Footholds. To help them climb forth from where they’ve been banished or bound, or give them a foundation to better leverage their strength. A room, a house, a pen, a sword, a companion.”

Oh. So they;ve made a deal with the devils. Thats what was bothering Blake. Good to know.

Getting rid of bad karma by doing something VERY bad is an interesting concept.

“I’ll help,” she said. “No trickery or sabotage. I can guarantee you’ll be better off than if you saw to it yourself.”

They seem to have covered their bases. Lets see what they missed this time~! Because I’m sure there is a catch.

“I promised it I’d keep it warm,” I said.

“Not exactly true, is that?” she asked me.

I frowned.

“I’m fairly well versed in seeing the nuances of karma at work. You’ve come very close to lying a few times in a short span of time, and you’ve each outright lied at least once in the half hour prior to our arrival.”

“Oh hell,” I said.

“It’s easy to slip, at first,” she said. “In this case, you’re bordering on a lie, but you’re still telling the truth. Rose here promised you’d keep it warm. Your promise was implicit, and because Rose is an extension of you…”

I hope Blake learns to see karma at work. But aw poor Blake. It is so easy to mess up. I re-read and didn’t really see where he lied. Unless “you took your time” counts? or “When I know what you’re doing, I can adapt”? Or. “I’m not lucky”? Though by definition Blake isn’t. Or maybe “Left me for the monsters to eat” since they wouldn’t eat him. Probably that is one of them.

“Ground rules,” Ms. Lewis said. “This isn’t business. Anything I say or do should be taken in the capacity of an acquaintance or teacher. I won’t give you answers I think you should pay for”

“I understand,” I said.

“Good response,” she said. “Not committing to anything. All that said, I’d like to help you if I see the chance.”

Aaaa some help please thanks finally.

“Let’s just say it’s me establishing a relationship with a potential new client.”

“We can say that,” Rose said, speaking from the mirror I wore in the open ‘v’ of my jacket collar, “But what is it really?”

“It’s largely selfish,” Ms. Lewis said. She drew in a deep breath, then sighed. “As clients go, you’re quite endearing, compared to our usual.”

She withdrew a spool from an inside pocket of her jacket. Thin silver wire. “And this is not something I usually get to do, in the course of my duties. Nostalgic.”

Yeah phrases like “lets just say” should be immediately questioned. Good Rose. Good. But what is selfish... you didn’t tell us...

“Yes. I would recommend using it more. Try it now?”

I switched to my sight. The connections weren’t very clear.

True I’d have it on by default when outside.

It very deliberately avoided the railing of the fence as it perched on the stone of the wall, glancing my way. It seemed bothered that I’d spotted it again. Leaves and twigs stood up like an irritated cat or a dog with the hackles up.

My eye traveled over the splash of minor spirits that danced around it, seeking out the areas where they were traveling in the straightest lines.

One, blocked by the house. I eyeballed it, figured out the direction, found it on the other side of the house, faint, disappearing into the woods and glades.

The Briar Girl, I thought. The Others I’d seen before June showed up… I suspected they were hers.

“She wants your attention, and very possibly wants your help.”

Sketchy Sketchy Sketchy

“Are you aware enough to know you’re in danger right now?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“How? Who?” Rose asked.

“A car, behind us. Ignore it. We’ll take an alley the car can’t pass through, forcing them to circle around. We can stop partway, forcing them to turn around again or stop and wait for us to emerge. We’ll decide what we do then.”

You’re outside. You should know you’re basically always in danger. Ah Blake, get more used to your sight soon. There’s so much he needs to do...

I had only the clues to go by, the color and make of the car, the fact that it had been a bit dingy. Not new by any stretch of the imagination, the stuffed animals…

The wrong track. Not enough to put any name to it.

Laird? He has kids. I don’t know though. really no idea, I don;t know the other practitioners well enough.

“I’m not sure I can,” I said.

“You would have more focus if you hadn’t lied,” she said. “Be glad you were in the house and it wasn’t more severe. Try harder.”

Dang Blake you really can’t afford to lose any power be careful.

“This is the point where the whole ‘escorting us safely there’ thing comes into play.”

“It is,” she said. She kept scratching at the hatchet. When she saw me looking, she said, “Oh. This will be another minute.”

“You’re not going to fight them? Or stop the call?”

“No. I’m not permitted.”

“I… what?”

“I can only make explicit use of my power while I’m working. As I said before, I’m nothing more than a teacher and an acquaintance while I’m taking this break.”

“You misled us,” Rose said.

“I was very clear. Don’t start crying now. We’ve made it this far. Now face them head-on. Can you see it? One coming right now.”

Wow fuck you. They had no way of knowing you couldn’t use your power while not working. I knew something like this would happen. He doesn’t even have the hatchet yet. Jesus.

The damned weapon was easily twelve feet long. Her arms outstretched in front and behind her, she bent the metal until it bowed in a ‘u’. When it came free, it did so in a shower of sparks, the blade practically dancing as it recoiled, returning to its straight length. The sound of metal singing filled the air.

She held it pointing straight up until it stilled, then lowered it so the point was aimed straight at my heart, her position very much like a fencer’s. If I looked past the movement of the wind that made the length of thin metal sway, the blade didn’t shake or waver in the slightest.

Boss Fight Start!

This bird lady is scary. Elemental I guess? Don’t die yet Blake. 12 feet long? What the hell how tall is bird lady.

“What- why are you saying that?” I asked.

“I’m going to walk you through this, and I’m going to hope that you follow my instructions to the letter. Now pay attention. The less guidance you demand from me, the faster I can hand this hatchet to you.”

Okay he has a chance now. Go Blake! I’m excited to see how combat will play out.

#text #damages 2.3 #pact

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bravelittletran · 7 years

Text

Hello my name is Luke and I am currently suffering from a depressive episode -- but I am hellbent on kicking its (being this episode) ass.

So welcome to a lesson in self care. Again, here is the disclaimer that this is dubious advice, your mileage may vary, but this is what I do when I find myself feeling like an amorphous blob of sadness.

1) Do things little by little - identify a list of things you need to do (and this is not things like “feel better”, but more pragmatic like “get out of bed”, “eat food”, and “do laundry”). Often my episodes are a slow descent throughout the week, so by the weekend, my room is often a disaster and I am decidedly out of work clothes. Instead of beating myself up for this, I cleaned my room for 30 minutes, broken up into two 15 minute chunks. In this time I sorted my laundry that needed to be done. I then briefly went downstairs and ate my leftovers in the fridge and fell asleep for another 3 hours. I didn’t feel great when I woke up, but I felt better, so I brought my laundry downstairs and did a load while I made something for lunch.

2) Prepare meals in advance or identify foods you can prepare easily. I know not everyone can prepare in advance, I by nature prepare several foods in advance for the purpose of making my work week easier. This comes in particularly handy during these episodes. I will often prepare an entire pound of fish, broken into several portioned amounts, for the week. This is what I ate today when I woke up. I cut one of the portions of fish in half, chucked it on some rolls, added cheese, and tada - 500 calories of food with decent nutritional value and I didn’t need to do much. If you can’t prep food, then I recommend identifying easy to make foods. For me, this is often eggs. I will usually have 4 eggs (3 egg whites, one whole egg) and some toast. If you’re having a particularly low energy day -- protein powder or other readily available foods are still great. I was a big fan of meal replacement shakes and bars in college, because I was often too busy to cook, but was trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Carnation Instant Breakfast is another great alternative for the sheer purpose of getting nutrients in body. Other favorites of mine have also been greek yogurt, cereal, or just straight up bread. Sometimes any food is better than none at all. On my lowest days I used to do two packets of Carnation Instant Breakfast in twice as much milk - that’s just about 300 calories (or more if you are not a lactose free skim milk guy) in one single food item. More recently I’ve switched to protein powders for the sheer reason that I can use water without sacrificing flavor. You can pick up some cheap brands in your local Wal-Mart (or comparable store).

3) If you do nothing else, change your clothing. I don’t even care if you put on another clean pair of pajamas, I often feel better just changing into something clean. Again, at my lowest, I’ve gone as simple as changing my socks and underwear and then put on the same pajamas I just had on. Back in October, I invested in a multipack of socks (this one to be precise: https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/B00LU5M1XS/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1) in two different color offerings. I now have 24 pairs of socks (in 12 different colorways, so if I lose one single sock, there’s still another pair that one can match to, so I just juggle my laundry around). It was the best thing I did for my mental health at the time not constantly either having no socks or only having ancient socks with holes in them. I also urge you do to the same with underwear. Old Navy often clearances out their holiday pairs seasonally, so you can often pay as a little as $2 a pair (again, this is a little US-centric, but the advice still stands that seasonal clearance is your friend).

4) If you can do the thing, do the thing. This thing might vary for you. This thing for me is running. I took up the Couch to 5K program over the summer, fractured my leg in my last week (**EDIT: back in November, as a reminder to adequately care for an injured body as well), and only just started again in week 4 last week. It took me an hour of prep to get ready, but I did realize that despite feeling like I was in a soul sucking vacuum, I could run be active for 31 minutes. It sucked the whole time, but I did it. I’m not going to bullshit and pretend that the sun and running fixed my sad. It did not, but I still feel better for it. Obviously not everyone can do this thing for a number of reasons, but do your thing. This thing doesn’t even have to be exercise. Watch an episode of your favorite show, read part of your favorite book, play your favorite game, listen to your favorite song, call your best friend. Whatever your thing is, if you can do it, do it. If you cannot do the thing - do not beat yourself up, sometimes today is not the day for the thing.

5) Make hygiene easy. If you can shower, great, do that. If you can’t shower, that’s fine too. Find a level that works for you today. If you can only put on deodorant, do that. Like I said with the clothing, if you can change even just your socks, awesome. If you can brush your teeth, that’s fantastic. If you’re finding these things require too much executive function, go a little easier on yourself. Find a dry shampoo, I bought some for post surgical care and have continued to use it. All it requires is the ability to lift my arm up above my head and comb my hair. I also have a leave in conditioner that is a liquid that just gets spritzed on my head. I also find that when I get in this state, brushing my teeth becomes a challenge. I have an awful gag reflex for some reason and often find the taste of mint off putting (and don’t like the flavors of most commerical toothpaste). I recently invested in Lush’s Toothy Tabs. It was a small holiday indulgence, but I’ve found it’s often easier for me to get motivated to use them when I’m feeling less myself (I think because they provide additional stimulus, and I otherwise feel pretty numb during this part). If this is a problem still, mouthwash is your friend, and it’s helped me feel a little more alive during some of my worst days.

6) Take your necessary medications. This one is a big one for me. This is hard, but I’d urge everyone to take care of this step even if you’ve gotten to this point and had to choose the lowest functioning option in all the other categories. It takes me a while to remind my sick brain that our medication is here to help (regardless of what it’s treating, in my case it’s daily pills for acid reflux, a handful of supplements that my doctor has approved, and testosterone as a weekly injection). I often find my lowest days come when I need to do my shot. This is a problem, so I’m often finding that I will save my shot for the end of the day on these days. I don’t really have any motivating factor for how, I just do it, because I know I need to. It’s just sometimes easier to do it knowing I can climb right into bed.

7) (Optional) Find your motivation somewhere else. This one has been really helpful for me, but is not going to help everyone else. My favorite band is a band called Elbow, they’re from Manchester, England and almost no one has ever heard of them. A few years ago I got my first tattoo the night before I got to see them with my best friend. There was a song off their album I’d never given much attention to, and then I heard it live. He told the story of why he wrote it, and I cried, because I was struggling then and in a lot of pain. This is the song. It stuck with me, because there I was in the very place I had “first lost my balance” (I urge you to actually listen to the lyrics of none of what I was feeling at the time will make sense), in my favorite city, with my favorite person, seeing my favorite band. My life was shit in that moment, but it was a turning point for me. A year later, when my life had improved and I’d “found my feet” again, I tattooed “while I have a breath in me, blood in my veins” over my heart. It has become some sort of mantra for how I live my life, my promise to myself, and to the people I love that I’m going to keep going because I have a reason to. They need me here, and I have a purpose. On my bad days, I’ll keep my hand over my heart whenever I get that nagging feeling that I’m worthless -- because I might not feel it right now, but people need me. Life wouldn’t be better without me. I just need to get through this part. I urge everyone to find their own motivation outside of themselves, because you’re not infallible, you don’t need to do this alone.

There are probably a million more things I do, but this is really the core of what brings me to the light at the end of the tunnel each time. Depression is never easy, but it doesn’t mean you need to be so hard on yourself. Also, if you’re reading this and you’re still lost -- I am more than willing to be an open, albeit dubious, source of advice and support if you’re dealing with something I didn’t list here.

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thejustinmarshall · 5 years

Text

A Case For The Apple Fritter As Endurance Fuel

At about Mile 13 of the Colfax Marathon, I was starting to feel hungry. I did the math in my head—I had about 14 miles of running left, and one remaining package of Clif Bloks in my handheld water bottle. I could very probably make it to the finish line on those Clif Bloks, plus maybe a couple pieces of bananas and/or a Honey Stinger gel handed out by volunteers. And that would be fine.

Or, I could run into Winchell’s, which was literally less than 100 feet off the race course just after Mile 17, and get an apple fritter. And that would be much tastier.

Look: I have nothing against “space food,” the stuff we commonly eat while doing endurance events. I have consumed hundreds of gels, blocks, waffles, and thousands of ounces of electrolyte drinks. They do the job, and lots of them taste pretty good, or decent enough that you don’t hate them until you’ve eaten about 50 of them over the course of a few months or a year and you just get sick of them. A non-scientific chart of enjoyment of space food products might look like this:

This is no fault of energy bar companies—they do great work, and I applaud them for that. But when your product is designed to be sold to people doing really uncomfortable things, you can’t expect those people to make lifelong commitments to your Lemon-Lime flavor of energy semi-solids. Pizza, or ballpark hot dogs, are a much easier sell: Both are most often associated with positive memories. You eat pizza while having good times with your friends, a ballpark hot dog while at a game with your family—not while exerting yourself for four to 36 hours on a bicycle or running trail, cramming calories into your mouth more to avoid bonking than for any sort of epicurean enjoyment.

Energy foods, on the other hand, are harder to associate with positive memories. You don’t cross a finish line, high-five your friends and family, gather yourself, and then sit down at a restaurant to look over the menu and then decide maybe you’ll just have a few more of those tasty energy globules and gels instead of a plate of nachos or a cheeseburger. Hell no you don’t. You smash that cheeseburger. And the nachos.

But those energy foods have served their purpose, which, as far as my personal research goes, is two-pronged: a) they provide readily available caloric fuel so you can continue moving, and b) they don’t make you shit your pants while exercising. If you do enough endurance activities, you probably have used your own trial-and-error process to figure out what meets both a) and b), and have a few things you rely on fairly regularly.

OK then. But have you ever eaten an apple fritter in the middle of an endurance activity? If you haven’t, I recommend it, as part of your trial and error process (if it causes the aforementioned digestive issues, obviously the rest of this piece is not going to be relevant for you). I’m not saying you should eat one every time you go out for a run longer than 10 miles or a bike ride longer than 30 miles, but every once in a while, it’s pretty damn good for morale. And, of course, good for calories, which most of us require to sustain life.

Nowadays, if you have an idea about nutrition, you can probably find an article or study out there to support it, or at least someone with a pretty large social media following. For longer-distance events, lots of smart people agree that a human body requires carbohydrates—which you can find in apple fritters and energy blocks alike:

Some experts think a small amount of protein is good during endurance events (here’s one), some don’t. Most experts agree that electrolytes need to be replaced during endurance events, especially if you’re sweating heavily—and our friend the apple fritter contains 690 milligrams of sodium, or a little more than twice the amount in a single serving of Tailwind.

Note that an entire apple fritter contains 600 calories, which is probably way too many to eat all at once while running or cycling, no matter who you ask. I suggest: Eating half of the apple fritter, or 300 calories. Splitting it with a friend is ideal, as the portability of an apple fritter is a bit limited, at least when compared to energy chews. But it is possible to carry an apple fritter in a bag for quite a while, or at least until you’re hungry again. This all depends on motivation and your personal dedication to that fritter.

As we approached Mile 17 of the Colfax Marathon, I pulled my credit card from my pocket and held it in my hand, so at least it wouldn’t be covered in sweat when I handed it to the cashier at Winchell’s. A few hundred feet from the building, I picked up my pace a bit, hoping to gain a few seconds and compensate for the net loss of time I’d experience in the donut shop. I popped through the door, delighted to see no line, and ordered an apple fritter. Less than 60 seconds later, I was back outside, jogging with my bagged pastry. For a time comparison, when I stopped at a port-a-potty at Mile 4, my total time including a wait behind four people was about two minutes and 30 seconds.

I re-joined my wife and we continued our previous pace. I slid the fritter out of the bag and took bites as we ran, downing half of it in about a half-mile of running. It was fresh, soft, sweet, and didn’t have an overly-fried taste that some apple fritters have.

We finished the race feeling relatively strong, and I clocked my second-best marathon time ever, using a combination of energy blocks and a donut. Now, was this a well-designed, controlled experiment? No. Does this offer any proof besides anecdotal evidence that apple fritters can work as endurance fuel? Also no.

Could you, however, through your own trial-and-error process, decide if apple fritters are right for you? Yes. If you don’t really like apple fritters, could you use another donut in its place? Hey, this is a free country—you can attempt an Ironman triathlon with a turkey leg in your hand if you want to. All I’m saying is there are other options beyond traditional endurance foods, including donuts.

—Brendan

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olivereliott · 5 years

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A Case For The Apple Fritter As Endurance Fuel

Or, I could run into Winchell’s, which was literally less than 100 feet off the race course just after Mile 17, and get an apple fritter. And that would be much tastier.

—Brendan

The post A Case For The Apple Fritter As Endurance Fuel appeared first on semi-rad.com.

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 6 years

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Puppy Love

On a recent vacation to Michigan, I began talking with a woman from Columbus, Ohio where I live. I wasn't glued to my phone throughout the duration of the trip, but it was nice to see messages from her early in the morning before breakfast, or late at night after dividing the day between shopping, going to the beach, and visiting a winery or brewery. I was appreciative of the fact that she continued to talk to me despite the fact that I was hundreds of miles away at the time. I came right out and told her where I was because I wanted to set the expectation that we might not be able to meet right away. If she wasn't cool with it, she was free to move on, but she seemed to be. Modern dating seems to have so many written and unwritten rules about how many messages to send (if the interaction is online or through an app), how and when to ask a woman out, how and when to escalate, etc... that I didn't want to waste my time or hers if she expected to meet up within 24 hours of our first exchange.

I love animals as much as the next guy, but I'll never understand why some people insist on including their pets in every single photo. I'm not sure what kind of a dog Betty was, but her ubiquitous presence in Kathrine's pictures should have been a bright red flag. Betty looked like she might be a West Highland White Terrier, but she wasn't pure white. Since Katherine had told me about racism in Australia when I asked about her travels, I decided not to press the issue by questioning whether or not her dog was on par with the breed standard. Besides, I knew Australia couldn't be all that bad. I almost immediately recalled the episode of The Simpsons that takes place there. Bart is compelled to apologize after a collect call to the land down under goes awry. Upon arrival, Bart promptly asks the U.S. ambassador if the toilets flush backward in Australia. The ambassador informs him that they've installed a device to ensure the toilet water swirls the correct American way to combat homesickness. Sounds pretty welcoming to me.

Southwestern Michigan has a vibrant craft beer and wine scene. I was amazed at how often I saw hops, cherries, apples, or blueberries growing alongside the road. I'm almost positive my aunt said that Michigan grows more fruit than anywhere else in the United States but California, though I think Florida could give them a run for their money. As much as I love a good porter or stout - an affection that stems from my almost neurotic obsession with coffee - I'm almost as strongly repelled by your average IPA. The bitterness is too much for me to handle. I tried Sierra Nevada Pale Ale once in college and hated it. From that moment on, I swore off IPAs.

As I walked into Elevator Brewing Company's taproom that Sunday, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Kathrine had told me that Betty would be with her since dogs were only allowed in the taproom and not the actual brewery. I'd never been on a date accompanied by a dog, but I was open to the possibility of a threesome. Betty jumped up to greet me almost immediately. Kathrine was less enthusiastic. She spoke more directly to Betty than to me. "Betty, be nice. This is who we're meeting." As Betty continued jumping up and down: "She just wants to play." I was a bit taken aback, but I decided to play it cool. I think all I could manage was, "If the dog likes me, I guess that's a good sign." Thoughts of a threesome disintegrated almost as quickly as they'd arisen.

Despite my firmly entrenched hatred for India Pale Ales, I broke with tradition and ordered a Cucumber IPA. "What the hell." I thought. I was already on a date with a dog, and I’d just discovered that Elevator was out of Columbus Ale Trail passports. Getting my hands on an Ale Trail passport was supposed to be my saving grace in case the date with Katherine (and Betty) turned sourer than my beer. I'd missed my chance to get a passport at Endeavor Brewing the night before. Elevator was supposed to offer me a pint at redemption.

Kathrine and I finally made it to our table, but Betty still seemed a bit agitated. She'd only remain sitting for a few moments before trying to jump in my lap. Later, she'd bark at every passing human, dog, or plastic bag wafting gently in the breeze. I began thinking that Betty was on a mission to right every wrong perpetrated by humanity against canine kind. Natalie, the bartender, offered her a bowl of water, but this seemed to only slightly calm her nerves. I can't tell you what Katherine and I talked about because Betty occupied so much of her attention. My experience wasn't so bad that I felt like running out into traffic, but if I'd had the ability to teleport to Dickensian England, I'd have welcomed the distraction.

As we finished our beers and got up to leave, Katherine said something that, however briefly, raised my hopes of salvaging the late afternoon. "Would you like to go to the dog park with us?" As I was under the impression that this was when our actual date would start, I readily agreed; having been on enough dates that amounted to little more than two people watching each other drink beer while pop music blared indiscriminately from overhead speakers, I welcomed the change of venue. Thoughts of Betty running unencumbered through lush green fields began to replace those of the dearly departed threesome. I pictured Katherine and I finally getting the chance to get to know each other as we strolled along finely manicured paths while keeping a watchful eye on the discolored supposed West Highland Terrier.

Sadly, the expectations of fantasy are often disappointed by the harshness of reality.

The N. 4th St. dog park is little more than an enclosed acute triangle of gravel with sprouts of grass at its base. Katherine set Betty free, and within moments she showed us why she'd been so antsy. "She had to poop. That's why." Kathrine said. All I could think of was the famous scene from Bridesmaids where Maya Rudolph runs out into traffic like I'd thought of doing just moments earlier. A helpless Kristen Wiig looks on and can say only:

“Oh, you're really doin' it aren't ya? You're shittin' the street.”

As is my custom, I called a Lyft to take me home, and I had a more meaningful conversation with my driver than with my date. When I arrived, my toilet water still swirled the correct American way.

I sometimes wonder why I bother dating at all, but then I remind myself that as humans, whether dogs bark at, chase, or jump up to meet us, the point of life is to live unapologetically, learn from our experiences without obsessively categorizing them, and just fucking have fun. If JFK was right in his Inaugural Address, a good conscience is our only sure reward anyway. If we find people or pets that vibe with us along the journey, that's a hell of a bonus.

I wouldn't recommend shitting in the street, but do whatever makes you happy.

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unillustratedadventures · 7 years

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On Airing Dirty Laundry

I find myself wanting to explain the overwhelmingly gloomy nature of this blog. It’s probably obvious, but the endless posts about narcissistic abuse partly come from a personal place. I.e., they partly come from a continuing need to explain something for which there is no available explanation. They also reflect a genuine new interest. The two things are related. I’m newly interested in the interpersonal dynamics of abuse, and in abusive personality traits, partly for personal reasons.

But these posts on narcissism, interpersonal exploitation, etc., are broadly academic. The blog’s also gloomy because I’ve been airing my dirty laundry. I’ve always done so without naming names, and with varying levels of crypticness or abstractness. I’ve always afforded plausible deniability, at the very least, to the other parties involved. It can be difficult to grasp just how important plausible deniability is, when you already know the fact that’s plausibly deniable. E.g., if you already know that you’ve done something wrong, and then this thing is stated in a way that allows you to plausibly deny it, the statement in question might still make you feel bad. It’s going to have much the same effect on you as if it hadn’t been plausibly deniable. After all, you already know every detail of the shameful fact that’s being asserted.

Nevertheless, at least some amount of restraint has been shown by the speaker, just insofar as it would have been easy for her to have been more specific. This isn’t to say that there’s no moral obligation to show such restraint. Typically there is. It’s just that we very frequently fail to do our moral duty. We frequently choose not to do our moral duty, especially when it’s a moral duty to someone who’s wronged us, or someone who’s shown little-to-none of the same kind of restraint.

More importantly, though, preserving plausible deniability is no small thing. It’s the difference between something’s being in the common ground, and not being in the common ground. When it comes to social mores, reputations, saving face, and things of this nature, the common ground is ultimately the only thing that matters.

Even more important than this, the airing of dirty laundry hasn’t been a mere self-indulgence—at least not in the perjorative sense. And it’s not something that I’ve done to punish, or that I’ve done out of spite. It’s not something I’ve been particularly comfortable with. I know it can be embarrassing, or cringeworthy. But then I’m not doing it because I think it reflects well on me, or because I expect other people to be interested in my personal issues. It’s part of a program of recovery.

Lack of closure can be really hard to deal with, and it can cause a lot of problems, especially in relation to an emotional trauma. This is part of the reason that I’ve been having problems for so long, particularly with anxiety and with obsessive and intrusive thoughts. Writing about the relevant personal events, and either sharing them or posting them somewhere public, is a recommended technique for dealing with such issues. There’s a finality and an objectivity to this, and a corresponding catharsis (however brief), that simply wouldn’t be achieved by writing in a journal or talking to a friend. It’s also something that’s advised because it guards against dissociation, and ensures that the difficult feelings and truths are actually felt rather than avoided; that they’re committed to, accepted, and (hopefully, eventually) processed.

The lack of closure is one reason. Another is cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance only exacerbates the anxiety, and the obssessive and intrusive thoughts. It keeps the whole cluster fuck alive and unresolved. It’s impossible to convey how destructive this confusion has been, for me. It’s obviously related to the lack of closure, insofar as I have no information that has been able to resolve the contradictions. These contradictions aren’t merely cognitive. They’re deeply emotionally significant. I get the impression that if they’d only been contradictions in thought, then they’d have been more readily brushed aside, and forgotten about relatively quickly. In relation to this, I’ve been having emotional flashbacks, which are closely tied to the cognitive dissonance. If one of these flashbacks is triggered (it’s often triggered by my PhD, unfortunately), then it’s always a flashback into something that has an unresolved contradiction with something else that’s deeply emotionally significant. And so then I get kind of locked in this obsessive oscillation between one thing and another, like an increasingly decrepit ping pong ball.

Dissonance of this kind is a predictable consequence of narcissistic abuse—of being subjected to abrupt shifts between total idealisation and total devaluation. It’s possible for someone to alternately idealise you and devalue you in this way deliberately, in order to cause distress, destablise you, and confuse you. In more local or acute cases, it’s something that a particularly determined bully might intentionally do. But if it’s deliberately done as part of a pervasive or chronic pattern, then the person is most likely a psychopath (I mean this literally, and not in a flippant or hyperbolic sense).

Someone can also alternately idealise you and devalue you because of a defence mechanism called ‘splitting’. Roughly, someone who pervasively splits cannot tolerate certain kinds of evaluative uncertainty, and the result of this is a moderate form of psychosis. Both the self and things external to the self (including other people) are only represented as thoroughly good or thoroughly bad. Clearly, since this way of representing reality is not properly anchored to the evidence, it is also unstable. As soon as something is affecting a splitter slightly more negatively than positively, it is suddenly represented as all bad (and treated accordingly). But if it then starts to affect the splitter slightly more positively than negatively, it is suddenly represented as being all good (and treated accordingly). This can lead the splitter to abruptly shift between idealising and devaluing a person, in response to comparatively minor fluctuations in how this person is immediately affecting her. In an interpersonal context, this is narcissistic abuse.

When a person is being idealised or devalued, it always says more about the idealiser or devaluer than the person who is being idealised or devalued. As mentioned, it’s either a malicious tactic, or a defensive form of psychosis. More to the point: in reality, no one even comes close to being ideal or completely worthless (whatever this might mean). And no one abruptly shifts from being close to one extreme to being close to the other—at least not in any objective sense, based on actual personality. So to represent a person as ideal or worthless, or to abruptly shift between representing a person as one and representing a person as the other, must say more about the representation itself than about the person who is being represented.

But it doesn’t really matter if you know that this is the case. Being idealised or devalued has an adverse emotional impact on you anyway. And being subjected to unpredictable shifts between them is rapidly emotionally destablilsing, and devastating to one’s self-esteem. It also introduces obsessive and self-destructive thought patterns. Where before you had no reason to doubt your representation of reality, and your representation of yourself, now you’re thrown into this state of constantly questioning whether up is really down, and vice versa. This effect is frequently combined with invalidation and gaslighting, which only worsen the self-doubt and cognitive dissonance. These things are frequently combined with narcissistic abuse because of Cluster B personality disorders. Anyone with such a disorder is prone to splitting (or psychopathic abuse, if the disorder is ASPD) as well as to manipulating, invalidating, and gaslighting others.

What I’m trying to say is that validation has been a critical part of recovery, for me. Specifically, self-validation has been critical. Combined, all of these things can lead to a paradoxical situation, in which one knows what actually happened and yet frequently finds one’s self thinking that it didn’t really happen, or feeling as though something different happened. E.g., I spent a significant amount of time being reassured that something of deep emotional importance would always be the case. Then—after an abrupt shift—it was communicated to me, also for a significant amount of time, that the same thing would in fact never be the case, and that it had never even been the case. There was no sensible path that I could follow from one extreme to its total contradiction, and so the dissonance could not be resolved. This sort of thing fucks with your head, however robust or stable you might be. Being told by someone, A, that you’re the most wonderful person A’s ever met and that A’s never been so in love with anyone in her life, and then to be suddenly condemned and despised by A, and told by A that you’re a worthless, insufferable piece of shit; to be encouraged to feel something stable, only to be suddenly denigrated for continuing to feel this stable thing—it fucks with your head. It just does. I think that this kind of interpersonal inconsistency might fuck with your head even with a complete stranger. It definitely fucks with your head if it’s someone you trust and respect. And it brutalises your head if it’s someone with whom you’re in love.

So when I find myself launched back into ruminating on one of these unresolved contradictions, it’s traumatic. These contradictions are lodged in really deep emotional parts of me, and I can’t get them out. What’s more, I’ll often find myself entertaining doubts about what I’d otherwise know to be true, either because I’ve been gaslighted into thinking this, or because it would resolve the dissonance and its associated anxiety. That’s a problem. Resolving things in this way—by denial, repression, self-delusion, or whatever—is unhealthy. It’s what leads to the toxic over-use of defence mechanisms such as splitting in the first place. It’s why victims of abuse can end up being abusive to others. When it starts to happen, I have to try to fight it. I have to commit to what I know to be true, in some kind of visible, objective way. If that means airing dirty laundry, then that’s what I have to do. I’d prefer not to; which is to say, I’d prefer that I didn’t have a reason to. I still can’t understand how I’ve ended up here; how any of this was remotely necessary. But I hope it’s clear that if my reasons were ignoble or spiteful, then I’d have no reason to show any restraint at all, however minor this restraint might seem. It doesn’t take much. My inkling is that if we were all willing to show just a bit of restraint—if there was even just the most basic bedrock of give-and-take—then none of us would have anything to restrain in the first place.

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