#i tried a little data visualization!

[enigmaticxbee]

X-Files Solve Rate

Although I tend to think of X-Files episodes and cases as open-ended - the Flukeman surviving somehow in the sewer, perhaps to return one day… - perhaps Mulder and Scully solved more cases than I give them credit for. In Tooms Scully tells Skinner that their case solution rate of 75% is above the bureau standard - and according to my calculations their solve rate really was 75% at that point in season 1! Of course it didn’t stay that high, and the more mytharc cases the worse their rate becomes since those episodes often end with an empty warehouse, no alien fetus, and their informant dead on a bridge. Of course it depends on how you’re counting a “solve” - I usually went based on whether they could write a report to Skinner that wasn’t just a giant shrug emoji - but I do wonder how often they actually got any kind of conviction…

Season 1: 71% - off to a great start! Of course they shut down the X-Files anyways…

Season 2: 64% - not as good, but there were a lot more mytharc episodes, including a major unresolved abduction arc.

Season 3: 54% - not great, but there were several two-part mytharc episodes which mostly go unsolved, as well as several MOTW cases like Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space’ which are classically unresolved.

Season 4: 58% - I assume Skinner’s reaction at the end of El Mundo Gira applies to all their post case meetings, whether solved or not

Season 5: 45% - even worse! Of course I’m unfairly including the two episodes set pre-X-Files in Mulder and Scully’s solve rate. But uhh, there’s not much argument against shutting down the X-Files in this data (sorry 🙈)

Season 6: 68% - actually if you look at the second half of the season when they get the X-Files back they’re at 80%!

Season 7: 73% - their best season solve rate since season 1 - think they’re working extra hard to prove that getting romantically involved won’t affect their work? Happy agents make successful agents!

Season 8: 62% - Scully and Doggett actually do pretty well with the MOTW cases in the first half of the season, but the mytharc-heavy second half brings down their average.

Season 9: 84% - with Scully’s help Doggett and Reyes do surprisingly well. Although I miss the classic who knows what really happened endings of the early seasons.

Seasons 10 and 11: 67 and 75% - even more starkly continuing the trend of resolved MOTW cases and unsatisfying conclusions to the mytharc episodes.

#xf rewatch #I tried a little data visualization!

[yridenergyridenergy]

Vicious August 1998

#I know! #a rare post of old visual kei stuff from me! #the context for this is that on one of my trips after COVID-19 #I tried to find a substitute store for Trio2 which had shut down in Nakano Broadway #I had read that there were some magazine shops at least in Ochanomizu #I didn't have data and tried to navigate with my geolocation skills but ended up asking a sort of old officer just to be sure #he said something along the lines of 'but I'm just an old man...' #so a younger man came to his and my rescue and offered to help me #he understood little English and used Google Translate to communicate with me for the most #turned out he was a magazine enthusiast himself and he took me to a couple of stores #they all had only antique magazines like nothing past 2005 #he found everything that had Dir en grey at each of those stores #I felt bad after a while because it was not at all what I was looking for #so I ended up buying the Xth magazine that he showed me #see above hah #just so you know I was really close to the store just with my skills #Dir en grey #young #scans #magazine #visual kei #vkei #Kyo #Kaoru #Die #Shinya #Toshiya #makeup #I'm not sure why I'm such a fan of that middle finger nail paint

[meowufff]

Okay!

First of all: I am very sorry it took so long to finish this! It had been a lot more data than last time, so I had some trouble to visualize and edit it this time around. I really hope I made it work somehow so enjoy this lil conclusion thingy and feel free to add or mention anything that comes to your mind~

In this survey I have asked a total of 188 people multiple questions surrounding sleep habits, their consume of caffein and its influence on them and got an answer from 104 of these.

So let’s beginning with the average hours per sleep these people had.

Well, as we saw in the last survey I did, most people I have asked didn’t had a good sleep schedule. The average hours that a rottmnt tumblr artist out of 104 get is 6,48 hours per night.

I tried my best to categorize the hours into 1-3; 4-6; 6-7; 7-9; 10+ h/night. The most common one being 4-6 h/night and 7-9 h/night which is a little surprising remembering that only 18% of people of my last survey actually have a “good”-sleep schedule in hindsight that the recommended amount of sleep is 7-9 hours/night.

These numbers could be explained that for a lot of people the amount of hours they sleep depends on factors like if they´re having a stressful time at the moment or how much they did over the day so the numbers itself varied often from 3-8 hours. Of course, no one sleeps the exact amount of hours every single time so the range a lot people mentioned had been partly very big.

Now that we know how many hours most artist sleep per night, we should take a look at how many hours they consider enough to technically get through the day which is 4,94 hours.

Because the answered had been very specific for most parts I decided to categorize them into full 1 till 9+ hours and steps in between as 1-2; 2-3; 3-4; etc. hours, the most common ones being 4 and 5 hours. Which is kind of close to the average amount they get.

So some could take the wild guess that a lot of people are surviving on their minimum hours per night as daily basis.

For my next question I could have been more specific with what I meant. My thought behind that question had been, how many hours are a lot in consideration to a not-so-great sleep schedule. For example, a person who usually gets 5-6 hours of sleep could consider getting 7 or 8 hours as a lot.

Some didn’t answer that part which is understandable as the meaning isn’t that clear. I still got a lot of interesting answers! For example, the average “a lot of hours of sleep” value is 9,59 hours.

Now let’s get to the caffein!

Surprisingly to me, considering the small average hour per night, 53,85% do not consume any caffein over the day and only 39,42% have it included into their daily routine. The small amount of 6,73% of people use it only as last resort.

On the other hand, after reading all the effects caffein has on most of the people I asked I am not as surprised they´re not consuming it regularly.

Talking about the different effects of caffein on people please look at the following two pictures where I tried my best to visualize the different answers as good as possible.

In the first one you can see the descriptions how the people are feeling before consuming any caffein. The bigger the word the more often it had been mentioned.

In the second you will see the way they feel after consuming any kind of caffein.

It is pretty prominent that a majority doesn’t feel any different afterwords which could be an explanation why the amount of people drinking caffein is that “small”. But even if the second biggest word is the usual effect caffein has the one directly after that are words like tired, sluggish, jittery which are most definitely affects no one likes to experience.

A lot of the described feelings could be lined to stuff like ADHD or insomnia or anything else where caffein can show a paradox or even negative effect on someone. I have read that a lot of people still like to consume drinks with caffein in it but not because of the effect but more for the taste.

As someone who needs to drink either very strong coffee or energy to actually feel any effect of the caffein, I found it very interesting to see that people mentioned to enjoy drinking tea as little energy boost.

For me tea, or coke or any other caffeinated soda, has such a little amount of caffein in it that I, for myself, didn’t even had it categorized as something that could be used as little caffein booster.

It hadn’t been a question, but I still noted down the kind of drinks people choose to drink as daily caffein source, which actually shows that coffee is the usual to go drink but again, surprisingly lot told me that they don’t drink tea (or anything else) as daily basis but more randomly whenever they feel like it.

In the end, what can we conclude out of all this messy information?

So, the usual hours you should sleep is put on 7-8 hours per night.

The average hours out of 104 artists in the rottmnt tumblr bubble is 6,48 hours per night with a minimum needed of 4,94 hours to get through the day. The maximum hours got in a night lay by 9,6 hours.

53,85% of these 104 go through their every day without the help of any caffein.

39,42% have caffein included into their daily routine.

6, 73% see caffein only as their last resort and try to avoid consuming any for as long as possible.

Thank you, a lot, for reading so far and thousand thanks to all the people participating in this lil survey again! I had a lot of fun doing this and I hope this little conclusion here is entertaining enough to make it worth having to answer my “few” questions!

If you want to share your own opinion or point out any mistakes I may have made, please feel free to do so~

I wish everyone a happy day and or good night!

If you are interested into my first survey, pls click here :3 Special Thanks to all of the participants!!! @heckitall @triona-tribblescore @butterfilledpockets @crownedcrowrow @pezhead @wraenata @zinovi768 @cokowiii @idiot-mushroom @less-depresso-more-espresso @mightyanxiety @sweeneydino @2aceofspades @mobiitez @onejellyfishplease @titenoute @arrora-art @indieyuugure @tblsomedoodles @theelvishfiddler @tasenwiththerobots @iredoodles @sushixstar @turrondeluxe @signanothername @adorabledrugl0rd @mr-doodles @theastroghost @djpachipikachu @hellishgayliath @frosteaart @godsfaultycreations @koolaidashley @soda-kazoo @tapakah0 @v-albion @sad-leon @angelpuns @sharkfinn @venelona-turtle-den @goatedgreen @graphitehybrid @laseralligator @peach-moths @vangh17a @debb987 @lieutenantbiscute @sunnyyyteaaa @0ransje @manga-toons

#average sleep deprivation survey #Survey #survey about rottmnt tumblr artist #this was lots fun #i love doing these #thx for reading~

[ghouljams]

You mentioned once that Price's demon darling is also named Price and that has had me thinking for like days now. How would her powers work compared to the other demon darlings we've seen? I've been like binge reading all of your series and they are all so good.

Price's demon is fun, because I don't know how he got them. He might have summoned them like Soap did, he might have earned them like Ghost/König, I don't know. But what Price needed in a demon was an interrogator, a negotiator, something that could get the information he needed no matter the price. That's who he got, and he's managed to keep a lid on their existence for as long as he's had them. Mostly because he doesn't want the jokes about the demon sharing his name.

Price's demon's name is subject to change because it's a little confusing to tag.

Sometimes to be the good guy, you have to be the bad guy. Price knows this better than anyone. He knows that the rules of engagement only matter if you get caught, and that war crimes are a dime a dozen where people aren't looking. He knows he's never going to see the pearly gates or come face to face with an angel, he's made his peace with it. At the end of the day the only person he has to be alright with is himself.

And you, of course, but that's a separate issue.

He stands now, in front of what anyone would consider a waste of space. It's a tidy operation, as far as trafficking goes, but the people operating it only ever seem to come in one make and model. Slimey.

The man duct taped to the chair spits on Price's boots, swears at him, doesn't seem to be the least bit cooperative. "Sweetheart," Price calls to the room at large. He knows your here somewhere.

"You know that's not my name," You tell him stepping out of the jagged shadows. You're used to this song and dance by now, done it enough times.

"Then stop responding to it," he tells you with just a hint of fondness in his eyes.

"Maybe I will," you grab the trafficker by the back of his head and force it back, "maybe I'll go to the brass and report you for harassing me."

"Empty threats get us nowhere," Price smiles, watching as you push one of your thumbs against the corner of the man's eye. He flinches and jerks away from you, or tries to. Your grip on him is unyielding. He screams when you pop his eye free from the socket, and sever the nerves with one of your nails.

"Let's see what you've been up to," you mumble, standing and tossing the eye into your mouth. It pops like jelly under the sharp points of your teeth, and you pick through the visual data for what you need. Codes, passwords, people he saw, documents signed, maps and transportation logs. You're careful to carve your findings into the man's chest so you don't forget. Dragging your nail through his skin, writing with blood and flesh. Price hands you his phone and you take a picture to send to Laswell.

"Eardrums next," Price tells you.

"No, please, I can talk, I'll tell you what you want to know." The man begs. You twist his head to the side and lengthen your nails.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but your participation isn't really necessary," You dig your nails into his ear canal like needle nose pliers. Maybe you should've eaten his voicebox first, see what he's been saying, it would've made this process a lot quieter.

When you're finished the man is full if holes and you're full of intel. Price hands you a towel to wipe your hands off, and scrub the blood from your lips. He catches you when you turn away from the body, takes the towel to get a last streak of blood off your cheek.

"Good work Price," he hums, you grin.

"Thank you Captain." He says your name so rarely, you try to enjoy it when he does. You hook your fingers in his tac vest to pull him closer. His eyes dart to your lips, but when you lean in to kiss him he leans back.

"We're still working sweetheart," his fingers stroke your cheek to keep you from pouting.

"Later then?" You ask.

"After you've brushed your teeth," he agrees. You gasp in mock offense, and he smiles. You have a long day ahead of you.

#demon!darlings au #john price mw2 #john price x reader #captain john price #john price x oc #x oc #oc: Price #its so weird writing Price and Price lol #demon price only gets nicknames because it makes Price feel like hes married to say her name #tw gore #tw eye horror #tw torture

[paradoxlemonade]

Mirror Mirror

Fandom: Double Life SMP

Dynamic: Etho & Joel

words: 1313

Warnings: body image issues, insecurity

Ao3: Here!

Summary: Etho doesn't like how he looks. Joel does not know this. Hurt/comfort ensues. (This is my @mcytblrholidayexchange present for @kyleknight! I hope you enjoy ^^)

— — — — —

Joel likes to think he’s a pretty funny guy in his own humble opinion, thank you very much. People laugh when he starts cracking jokes, and those that don’t are probably just peeved that they’re the subject of his mockery—after all, when there’s a punchline, someone has to be the one to get decked. It’s all in good fun!

It’s… disconcerting when someone who’s supposed to be in on the joke isn’t smiling along with it. 

And it’s not like Etho’s even the one on the receiving end! The whole point of the thing is how they—as soulmates—can ruin everyone else’s thumbnails together!

It’s a bit of Etho’s that Joel has always found fun as long as he’s known about it: hiding another layer of visual data in his player code only visible upon lookup is a fantastic prank for messing with one’s friends, since it’ll only show up when they pull his image to build the thumbnail. Etho himself, who doesn’t bother with that sort of menial technicality and just whips out a camera from his back pocket when he spies a good thumbnail, is immune. And sure, sure, Joel doesn’t actually know how to replicate the effect and just went for a plain t-shirt with the face painted on in crooked lines, but it was still funny and would show up on the lookups (And Etho’s pictures, but that’s what hiding the shirt with armor is for).

Joel was grinning like mad as he showed off the creation, hands waving and detailing the concept. Etho gave an affirmation, but he hadn’t seemed particularly enthused with the concept; the mask hiding his face stretched with a smile even as his eyes skittered to the side and hid under knit brows.

So. Joel tries not to let it bother him and simply enjoy the thought of his friends being annoyed with him.

He picks at the hem of the t-shirt as he paces about the Boat Boys (not Small Etho!) base area. The day passes as usual: chaos reigns, problems are caused (all on purpose if asked, mostly on purpose in actuality), and Joel enjoys Etho’s company. Really, the man is a delight—Joel knew of him more than he knew him personally before the latest season, but every new interaction reveals something new about Etho that he didn’t know, and Joel’s actions and mannerisms in turn to him.

Everything seems fine, until. Until, until, until.

Etho removes the secret layer. Joel finds out about it in between sessions and tries (fails) not to take it personally.

It… stings.

The start of the next session and Joel’s ire do not roll in like thunder, but instead stumble in on unsure legs like a fawn. Sure, he’s irritated (and a little offended, and a little hurt), but it’s Etho. So Joel leans on the edge of The Relation Ship and drinks in the sight of the server.

A creaking floorboard from behind him and a gentle wheeze of breath belies Etho’s awaited arrival. 

Without turning around, Joel begins, “I see that you’ve changed your skin?” It’s light as he can manage with a slight chuckle of incredulity, but from the tightness in his jaw, it does little to masquerade much of anything.

“I did, yes—”

“You took the face off? Was it because I—”

“Yeah.”

Joel huffs. “Wow, brilliant.” He pushes off and turns in a single motion, and—

Freezes.

…Any plans Joel has for a polite (but frigid, but pointed, but sardonic) questioning evaporate once he gets a look at Etho’s face.

He looks tired, bags like smudges of coal languishing, shifting with every blink. Every step is upheld with an air of casual nonchalance, but the slight tremble in his fingers betrays him. His pale hair is dull and falls over his scarred eye.

“...You look like a wreck.”

Etho scowls for a bare moment but beats it down to a practiced neutrality. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Joel snorts. “Considering that I hadn’t asked but you tried to deflect anyways, say that I don’t particularly believe you.” He grabs Etho by the wrist and slides past, leading him down to their chests. “Did you sleep at all between now and the last session? Because your eyebags have eyebags. Bet we could fit a whole stack of items in there.” Before Etho can respond, Joel pops the lock on a chest and picks out a loaf of bread. He drops it into Etho’s hands with a nod of finality.

“I slept just fine. And I ate too, if that’s what you’re getting at by this.” He gestures helplessly with the bread. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Joel shrugs. “And I said I didn’t believe you. I can play this game all day, especially since your face isn’t helping your argument.”

Etho scowls again. “Stop saying that.” 

“Saying what? That you look like you’ve been fighting phantoms? And losing?”

 “Joel, please…” His shoulders are drawn in close and his grip on the bread grows tighter, more desperate.

Joel falters.

“Are you… okay?”

Etho makes a face and stalks back onto the ship. “You don’t need to rub it in, you know.”

Joel trails behind him, his sense of assurance drying up. “You’re gonna need to be a little more specific than that, mate. Rub what in?”

He laughs. Laughs. Something dry, something quiet, something brittle. Etho keeps his gaze trained on the bread crust he picks at aimlessly. “I know I’m nothing nice to look at. I’ve known that basically forever. So you don’t need to rub it in; I already know.”

Joel blinks. He stops following Etho’s pacing and stands in place. What does he say to that? “You’re kidding, right?”

Mm. Probably not that.

Etho gives him an unimpressed look. “Why would I be kidding about this? You’ve been saying it yourself all morning.”

Wait, he thought that… and then Joel…

Oh, goddammit.

Joel rubs a hand across his face letting it trail up to drag through his hair. “You look tired, man, not ugly. You’re not a supermodel—so what? Neither am I. And neither is anyone else that we hang out with. You’re in pretty good company.” His feet finally unstick from the floor and he manages to scoot next to Etho, their shoulders brushing. “You’ve been thinking about this the entire break, haven’t you?”

Etho shrugs, as if it hides the way his shoulders droop with the weight of his thoughts. “I don’t… I try not to think about my face too much. Not ever since”—he waves his free hand at the long, ropy line bisecting his face—“that. No mirrors in any of my builds or anything. I guess your silly t-shirt just reminded me that everyone else is looking at me when I talk to them.”

Joel kinda feels bad for taking that personally, now.

He shakes his head. “If you told me what was up, I would’ve ditched the shirt. Here, like this.” He reaches up with one hand and yanks it off by the neckline, tossing it across the ship in the same motion. It hits the wall and slides to the floor in a crumpled heap. “There, now it’s gone.”

Etho takes a minute to gather his thoughts. After a pause, his eyes trail over to meet Joel’s. “Thanks.”

Joel leans over and bumps him, never breaking eye contact. “Bothering people is fun. Hurting them isn’t.”

The moment passes, and Etho turns his attention back to the bread. He slides his mask down and takes a hesitant bite.

— — — — —

Joel leans back and kicks a foot over his leg. “Besides, I can still think of, like, at least three different people who would throw themselves at you in a heartbeat if they thought they had a chance of getting you into bed with them.”

Etho chokes on a mouthful of bread.

#double life smp #trafficblr #life smp #boat boys #ethoslab #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #double life fanfic #mcyt #idea writes #idea original post

[tangibletechnomancy]

How To Use AI To Fake A Scandal For Fun, Profit, and Clout

Or, I Just Saw People I Know To Be Reasonable Fall For A Fake "Ripoff" And Now I'm Going To Gently Demonstrate What Really Happened

So, we all know what people say about AI. It's just an automatic collage machine, it's stealing your data (as if the rest of the mainstream internet isn't - seriously, we should be using that knee-jerk disgust response to demand better internet privacy laws rather than try to beef up copyright so that compliance has to come at the beginning rather than the end of the process and you can be sued on suspicion of referencing, but I digress...), it can't create anything novel, some people go so far as to claim it's not even synthesizing anything, but just acting as a search engine and returning something run through a filter and "proving" it by "searching" for their own art and "finding" it.

And those are blatant lies.

The thing is, the reason AI is such a breakthrough - and the reason we memed with it so hard when DALL-E Mini and DALL-E 2 first dropped - is because it CAN create novel output. Because it CAN visualize the absurd ideas that no one has ever posted to the internet before. In fact, it would be a bigger breakthrough in computer science if we DID come up with an automatic collage machine - something that knows where to cut out a part of one image and paste it onto another, then smooth out the lighting and colors to make them fairly consistent, to make it look like what we would recognize as an image we're asking for? That would make the denoising algorithm on steroids that a diffusion model is look like child's play.

But, unlike the posts that claim that they're just acting as a collage maker at best and a search engine at worst, I'm not going to ask you to take my word for it (and stick a pin in this point, we'll come back to it later). I'm going to ask you to go to Simple Stable (or Craiyon, or the Karlo demo, if Google Colab feels too complicated for you - or if you like, do all of the above) and throw in a shitpost prompt or two. Ask for a velociraptor carousel pony ridden by a bunny. Ask for Godzilla fighting a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man. Ask for an oil painting of a capybara wearing an ornate princess gown. Shitpost with it like we did before these myths took hold.

Now take your favorite result(s) and reverse image search them. Did you get anything remotely similar to your generated image? Probably not!

So then, how did someone end up getting a near perfect recreation of their work? Was that just some kind of wacky, one-in-a-million coincidence?

Well - oh no, look at that, I asked it for a simplistic character drawing and it happened to me too, it just returned a drawing of mine that I never even uploaded, and it's the worst drawing I've done since the fifth grade even just to embarrass me! Oh no, what happened, did they change things right under my nose, has digital surveillance gotten even WORSE?? Look, see, here's the original on the left, compare it to the output on the right - scary!! They're training on the contents of your computer in real time now, aaaagh!!

Except, of course, for the fact that the entire paragraph above was a lie and I did this on purpose in a way no one could possibly recreate from a text prompt, even with a perfect description.

How?

See, some models have this nifty little function called img2img. It can be used for anything from guiding the composition of your final image with a roughly drawn layout, to turning a building into a dragon...to post-processing of a hand-drawn image, to blatantly fucking lying about how AI works.

I took 5 minutes out of my day to crudely draw a character. I uploaded the image to this post. I saved the post as a draft. I stuck the image URL in the init_image field in Simple Stable, cranked the init strength up to 0.8, cleared all text prompts, and ran it. It did exactly what I told it to and tried to lightly refine the image I gave it.

If you see someone claiming that an AI stole their image with this kind of "proof", and the image they're comparing is not ITSELF a parody of an extremely well-known piece such as the Mona Lisa, or just so extremely generic that the level of similarity could be a coincidence (you/your favorite artist do/es not own the rule of thirds or basic fantasy creatures, just to name one family of example I've seen), this is what happened.

So from here you must realize that it is deeply insidious that posts that make these claims usually imply or even outright state that you should NOT try to recreate this but instead just take their word for it, stressing ~DON'T FEED THE MACHINE~. It's always some claim about "ohhh, the more you use them, the more they learn, I made a SACRIFICE so you don't have to" - but txt2img functions can't use your interaction to learn jack shit. There's no new information in a text prompt for them TO learn. Most img2img models can't learn from your input either, for that matter! I still recommend being careful about corporate img2img toys - we know that Facebook, for instance, is happy to try and beef up facial recognition for the WORST possible reasons - but if you're worried about your privacy and data harvesting, any given txt2img model is one of the least worrying things on the internet today.

So do be careful with your privacy online, and PLEASE use your very understandable knee-jerk horror response to how much extremely personal content can be found in training databases as a call to DEMAND better privacy laws ("do not track" should not be just for show ffs) and compliance with security protocols in fields that deal with very private information (COMMON CRAWL DOESN'T GO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY, IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GET ANY MEDICAL IMAGES THE PATIENTS DIDN'T SHARE THEMSELVES HOLY SHIT, SOME HOSPITAL WORKERS AND/OR MEDICAL COMMUNICATIONS DEVELOPERS BETTER BE GETTING FIRED AND/OR SUED) - but don't just believe a convenient and easy-to-disprove lie because it aligns with that feeling.

#generated artwork #sort of #not art #also sort of

[wonderwithin-us]

The dream you're looking for is in the work you're avoiding ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Guess who got their phone broken 💗 but it's alright, it's all ok now & I noted down all I did in the past 3 days. My exams were a little bad, really bad to be completely honest, but it's alright, it was my first time giving exams this semester and I learnt what I need to do.

11th of July, 2023 💕

100 days of productivity — day 5, week 1

Economic exam preparation ~ I was so confused, there were so many concepts I'd missed because of my sickness but I tried YouTube and notes online. Procrastination really did get the best of me. I need to lessen my use of insta, seriously, I think Tumblr is more safe in that regard.

Microeconomics — Introduction & Consumer's Equilibrium

Statistics — Introduction & Organisation of Data

I need to work on my graphs, practice more and overall concepts of microeconomics. Also, clear up my concepts on stats. It's easy, but revision is needed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

12th of July, 2023

100 days of productivity — day 6, week 1

Economics exam, yikes. Next exam was Psych the next day, so I was really nervous because I wanted to score well in it! ❣️

However.

Procrastination got to me, again. I studied for a while then thought it was too easy and I could do it at night, which, evidently, I couldn't.

I think rather than seeing easy topics as something to skip studying or take easy, I should put more effort in them so I can get them perfect and let it pay back to me.

What is Psychology? & Methods of Enquiry

I need to work on my basic concepts, esp in ch-2, and notes. Visual learning works best for me, and making my own notes is essential to my learning 📖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

13th of July, 2023

100 days of productivity — day 7, week 1

Dear god, I think my psych exam was the most terrible. Which hurt me the most.

I really did lose hope after this. Not only did my incredibly unclear concepts and no notes not help, but the exam was extremely tough, the questions were really vague and I didn't understand them, and the worst of all, I literally forgot I had a whole section to do as objective even after rechecking. I lost 5 marks from that, maybe more.

That really hurt.

Tomm was English exam! I had seen what had happened in the last papers, so I really worked hard here.

I mostly focused on literature, since the creative writing formats were mostly very easy and took less than an hour.

Chapters with details are hard!

Anyways, I was really anxious until the end, and kept a few detailed chapters to the morning after to revise.

I really need to work on studying chapters I've missed before the exams come. It was so messy and frustrating trying to understand all these chapters with online notes and summaries, especially when the chapters are so open ended and the teacher is so strict with answers 💌

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

14 of July, 2023

100 days of productivity — day 8, week 2

WAR!!! IS!!! OVER!!!!

Final exam day, I was nervous but it was actually quite alright!

I absolutely need to work on my speed, though.

Also, I almost always exceeded the word limit in answers. So, I need to practice my creative writing more, not just in my head, but actually on paper, and be more perfectionist in my answers in literature.

I went out with my big brother to eat street food and it was all very lovely 🍝

I also wrote a lot of poetry, which I'm really quite proud of. I also received some really good news! 💕

New week! The first week was really, really overwhelming, and I don't want my future self to end up like that again. It was exhausting and hurtful and I want to get better.

In the end, I've got a lot of stuff to work with and I'm really proud of my self to survive all this! ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* I hope nothing but peace upon my future.

#studyblr #studyspo #exam week #studying #study inspo #study inspiration #study space #100 days of productivity #productive #being productive #productivity #i hate exams #desiblr #humanities student #inspiration #healing #dark academia #dark academia aesthetics #dark academia aesthetic #light aesthetic #light academia aesthetic #light academia #romanticising life #romantic academia #romanticizing school #romanticizing life #study blog #studyblr community #she speaks! 🌷 #riyu's tag

[ouroboros-hideout]

WIP WHENEVER

@chevvy-yates tagged me for this. Thank you a lot 💚

This will be a huge wall of text aswell, since I am not really of the „visual“ side of creating atm.

Writing // Worldbuilding

I'm still writing the next two chapters for my fanfiction, but would rather briefly introduce my other OCs here (yes, Aon isn´t the only one by now). Maybe I can create all of them ingame at some point, depending on how stupid I´ll act with modding etc. when I start. Since things can change quickly in the story while I'm writing, I wouldn't say that everything is 100% set in stone, a lot of it isn't finished yet. But it's a good base. Most of them appear in my „Like Napalm“ fic. Some of them will be in my main GARMR fic aswell. So prepare for half backed character data entries and some rambling.

Gan

Gan Tomobataar, or Iron as he is usually called, is a mysterious man. Many stories surround the Mongolian giant and it always depends on who asks him whether he affirms or denies these tales. It is therefore uncertain which of them are true or fictional and he really enjoys keeping his past in the dark. He is said to have served in an elite military unit. The metal teeth that earned him his iconic nickname are said to have been lost in numerous boxing matches as he tried to turn pro to make a better life for himself and his family, and he is allegedly a descendant of Ginghis Khan (which is probably one of his favorite rumors). One can assume that his closest confidants have more clarity, but none of them would dare say a word about it. Undeniably true is that he has two brothers, of whom he is the second-born. Together with them, he leads one of the largest nomadic clans in eastern Europe and Asia. The Tomobataar nomads are divided into three large families, each led by one of the three brothers. Iron's family stays mainly in Mongolia and Russia, but he would also travel to more distant parts of the Soviet Union for profitable contracts. He doesn't have many vices, but one of them is definitely greed.

By sheer luck, at least that's what he claimed, he picked up Aon on the street when she was trying to flee Moscow on her own. He promised to protect her from the Secret Police and other bounty hunters if she proved to be a useful member of his clan. However, his methods for testing her worth would put the young woman to the test.

Yakov

Yakov always had problems finding his place in the world. He grew up in St. Petersburg, studying or an education other than working in his father's car repair shop were never an option financially, but the young man always yearned for something greater than being stuck in the alleys and streets of his childhood. He decided to join the military when he was old enough, but was discharged immediately after basic training for insubordination and general unsuitability. What remained for him was to work in his father's garage until he died after a long illness. Yakov tried to keep the store running on his own for a while, but he found it difficult to do good business without proper management and eventually had to sell the store. This was followed by a relatively dark period. He saw himself as a failure, was unable to find a new job and drank away the money he had received for the workshop in the bars in his neighborhood. One evening, a man came into his local pub. His car had broken down outside, he wouldn't get any further that night and kept him company for a few hours. The next day, Yakov repaired his car for the man called Gan and left the town with him to live with the Tomobataar nomads.

Gregori

Gregori's mother, a singer from New York, came to the Russian capital for a gig and met a military officer there. The two got together and the result was little Greg. Shortly afterwards, however, the couple fell apart and she took her son back to America, where he spent most of his childhood and youth being raised by babysitters and nannies, while the singer preferred to spend her time on tour or in the recording studio. Gregori at least inherited much of her creativity, starting to make music himself at an early age and drawing a lot. Just what small children do when they need to keep themselves busy.

When he was 16 years old, his mother died of an overdose. As she never bothered to write down a testament or anything similar, her entire fortune goes to her greedy manager, who leaves Gregori penniless.

The boy, who has spent his whole life sheltered without much contact with the outside world, is left with nothing and doesn't know exactly what to do. So he scrapes together the last of his money and buys a ticket to Moscow, where he tries to find his father, but in vain. He quickly goes off the rails, barely speaks a word of Russian, is recruited by a gang and gets exploited. An arms deal with a group of nomads goes wrong, a shootout ensues and Gegori is the only one left of the gang because he hides instead of fighting. Yakov, who was on the other side of the deal, takes pity on him and eventually takes him to his new family where he tries to find his place within the group.

Anna

Anna grew up with the Tomobataar nomads from an early age. Her parents were killed in a botched mission when she was just four years old. Iron, who in a way blamed himself for this, took on a guardianship for her and looked after the little girl like the apple of his eye. As the years passed and Anna grew older, the relationship between her and her foster father changed. He became increasingly demanding, punished misbehavior and put the still young girl under pressure. Aon, who had already earned her place in the clan by this time, could not tolerate this behavior as she herself had grown up under similar circumstances. No one else in the clan interfered with Iron's "parenting methods", which is why she ended up doing it. Anna and Aon then became inseparable and she naturally followed her later when they left the clan along with many others.

Anatoly

Anatoly, or Tolik as Aon calls him, belongs to the Russian working class in Moscow and cannot claim to own much. As a boy, he dreamed of studying mechanical engineering in order to open his own workshop or business. A dream that his father would never have been able to afford in this life. So after school, Tolik started working at his father's scrap yard on the outskirts of Moscow, not an easy job. He regularly drives into the city to pick up old components and scrap metal from SovOil and other big corporations, where he meets Alyona one day. The two strike up a conversation, exchange banter and hit it off straight away, which over time develops into a teenage love story. Aon spends a lot of time with him at the scrapyard, where she can test and improve her skills on old machines and has a place to hide from her hated stepfather. He, in return, benefits from the knowledge she brings with her from university, and his dream of building his own big thing soon becomes her dream too. Together they consider leaving the city at some point and make plans for the future

unnamed_chromed_up_terrifying_SovOil_Secret_Police_agent

Yea well, I don't know yet how to call him. After Aon has fled Moscow, the officers of the normal police force give up the search for her, as it theoretically no longer falls within their area of responsibility. However, since Kristof claims that Aon stole the data he wanted to sell to Petrochem, SovOil is naturally very interested in finding her and the data chip. So they send a Secret Police agent after her, who, together with a small unit, tries to track her down. He actually already had a kind of "Easter Egg" appearance in my other AU. He would have been the agent sitting next to Kurt if he hadn't switched the cards on the table. Funny how differently things can go. Anyway, he doesn't really have much of a backstory other than he used to work for the KGB and is a bloodthirsty hound dog who chases Aon halfway across the country (spoiler: and finds her). If I were to compare him to another character from movies etc, he would probably have the closest vibe to Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds. The character was very well written, even though I would probably make my namesless_pig a bit younger than him. But since he'll be pumped full of cyberware anyway, it probably doesn't matter much in the end. It's just supposed to be a fucking horrible character and Aon's nightmare.

Robert Walker

Robert is one of the key-characters in my main fanfiction. I haven't thought about him in depth yet, but the general concept is there. He's a British journalist and photographer who wanted to go high by exposing wrongdoings in society. For him, there is nothing more exciting than achieving "fame and notoriety" as a whistleblower. He's not necessarily stupid or doesn't know what he's doing, he's just unlucky. He gets into trouble with the wrong people and upsets the even worse ones, which is why he has to flee the UK and ends up in NC. There he tries to start over and stay out of trouble. However, he soon develops an "unhealthy" obsession with Kurt Hansen. He is incredibly fascinated by him and spends every free minute in Dogtown so that he can perhaps take a photo (or two, or ten) of his idol. At some point, he goes so far as to seek direct contact and wants to interview him. Kurt is flattered at first, but has little desire to reveal information about himself in some strange blog or gossip magazine. But that didn't stop Robert from continuing to stalk him and even trying to become a member of Barghest. At some point, Hansen got too pissed off and gave him the choice of leaving Dogtown or catching a bullet. Robbie chose the second option. After all, he hadn't forbid him to camp outside the gates of Dogtown, had he?

Technically I could tell something about Aon´s mom and her stepfather too, but I don´t have that much yet. So will keep em for the next WIP together with the other OCs for my main fic. There will be three more. A general, a corpo guy and the last is still up for discussion with my brain. Considering somekind of warlord or a netrunner.

Art

I tried to do something different than a full rendered piece of artwork. I am not yet confinced that I like it. I like, that it was finished really fast lmao but...I dunno.

Aon and Tolik - 2055

But happy that Aon is actually recognizable in the end. During the process she looked so much like So Mi at a point that my brain went: WHO ARE YOU GIRL. But I like the long hair. Will give it back to her in her 2078+ appearance. Not exactly like this, but longer than her normal style.

Not quite sure about Anatoly tho. I mean, he looks like this in my head, but I will reconsidere if he will get some cyberarms. He is poor like a mouse, so probably can´t afford expensive tech like this, but he feels kind of „empty“ without anything.

Congrats and huge thanks if you read this far. Brainrot stronk!

Tagging some ppl aswell. Everyone else is invited too to show off some awesome stuff ofc, no pressure as always!

@blackrevell @olath124 @cyberholic77 @cybervesna @pinkyjulien @theviridianbunny @therealnightcity @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @barghestapologist @kdval @streetkid-named-desire @aggravateddurian @androgymess

#wip whenever #worldbuilding #writing stuff #art stuff #oc stuff

[accessibleaesthetics]

Image-to-Text AI

I wanted to discuss image-to-text AI, what it's good at, what limitations it has, and how you can use it to help make accessibility easier.

How It Works

To demonstrate how this works, I'm going to use the image from this post.

This photo shows a sleeping kitten laying on desk beside a computer, in between the keyboard and the mouse. There is also a corner of a frame of some sort in the upper right corner of the image. Text displays in the center of the image and reads: my coworker got her new kitten to work and the little nugget was just too tuckered out from being adorable all day.

Image-To-Text AI

Image-to-text AI is basically the exact reverse of the famous (or infamous, depending who you ask) text-to-image AI that has taken the world by storm since early 2021. There are a ton of websites for this, some free, many not. For simplicity, I chose to use the image-to-text feature built into Microsoft Word.

When I paste an image into a Word document, the program automatically generates alt text for it using Microsoft's AI. You can view this alt text in the Alt Text panel when editing the document. It will add "Description automatically generated" to the end of the alt text for transparency though, so if you want to keep the alt text it made, make sure to delete that. You can also edit the alt text directly to make it more accurate.

Microsoft's AI came up with "A kitten sleeping on a desk text to a computer mouse." Honestly, not a bad description at all, except it's missing one important thing: the text overlaying the image. This is because Microsoft's image-to-text AI, like many AI of this kind, does not have the ability to transcribe text directly from the image. However, there is a technology that can.

Optical Character Recognition (OCR)

Optical character recognition, or OCR, is a technology that dates back to the 1970s, possibly earlier depending on how you define it. While it's application and accuracy have grown extensively since then, the core function remains the same: recognizing text in an image and transcribing it into a true text format.

I took the photo from the previous section and put it into a Free Online OCR Image To Text Converter.

It recognized there was text on the image and transcribed it exactly. Very useful, but it doesn't give us any info about the actual image outside of that.

Limitations

Now, the examples I used above were kind of an ideal situation. AI is not as good with more complex images. For example, I tried putting in a screenshot of a tweet from nym™ (@aretteepls) with a photo of The Sphere at the Venetian Resort in Los Vegas. It is currently displaying a image of SpongeBob's face that fills the entire globe and glows very brightly, turning the night sky's clouds a tinge of yellow. Above the photo, the actual tweet says: The sky is turning yellow because of Spunch Bob.

Microsoft's image-to-text AI came up with "A screenshot of a phone." Defintely much less impressive than our first example, but AI is only as good as the data it's trained on. Things like "screenshot of a phone" or "screenshot of a computer" are not uncommon when AI recognizes that you're giving it a screenshot of something on a screen, but can't make heads or tails of what's in it beyond that. And once again, it has no OCR capabilities, so none of the text on the image is transcribed.

But even OCR isn't infallible. The output for this image from that same website I used earlier would be:

nym ,M @aretteepls The sky is turning yellow because of Spunch Bob

The trademark symbol is kind of faint on the screenshot, so the OCR struggled with making that out, transcribing it as "comma M" instead. The less clear the text is visually, the less accurate the OCR output is going to be.

What Do We Do With This?

AI is best when used in conjunction with human aid, and image-to-text AI is non exception. I think the best way forward with this technology is to use generated descriptions as a starting point, not a replacement for human-written ones. And of course, we need to be careful what programs you use to generate the descriptions, especially with art. Programs like Chat GPT have image-to-text functions, but there is no guarantee that an image you upload to it for that purpose will not be used to train it's text-to-image AI as well.

Unfortunately, the more ethically-sourced a training data base for AI is, the more limited it will be compared to it's less-ethically sourced counterparts.

But there are legal precedents being put in place around this, and many text-to-image AI programs now have explicit and detailed terms of service for what you can and can't do with its output, as well as what you should be uploading as input.

So, for the time being, be very cautious with how you use this technology especially when describing others' art. And even with your own art, read through terms and conditions before uploading your work to a website. I think the Microsoft Word one is fairly safe though.

I also think it would be great if someone developed a image-to-text AI that could incorporate OCR to make the end result more informative.

#ai #image-to-text ai #artifical intelligence #accessibility #long post

[fardreamer]

SENGEN HEADCANONS

note: there are spicy headcanons in this :)!

general:

❤️ senku sometimes is messy when he starts tinkering and experimenting. gen often sneaks in behind him and puts things away as senku keeps moving around.

❤️ as stated in another post of mine, senku is an aggressive big spoon cuddler with gen. once he gets settled and is comfortable, he’s not moving. gen pretends to hate it but he does love it.

❤️ gen is phenomenal at back massages.

❤️ senku, when cuddling, prefers to lay atop gen. gen loves it because it means he gets to kiss senku a little easier, play with his hair, and tell him how cute he is.

love languages:

*note: i make a distinction here between how they prefer to receive love, and how they prefer to give love. i know not everyone perceives love languages that way.

🌼 gen, as anyone can imagine, loves telling senku how intelligent and beautiful he is. he saves the sweeter compliments for when they’re alone, but will proudly proclaim how much he loves senku (especially if it’s to embarrass him). his second is physical touch, followed by quality time. he actually prefers physical touch to receive love.

🌼 senku, on the other hand, is strongly split between acts of service and physical touch to give love, which means gen and senku unintentionally spend their days with passing pats to the back, stray kisses, standing as near to one another as they can, etc. that is how he prefers to give love. he claims he has no preference on how he receives love, but gen can tell that he enjoys spending time together, even if it’s just gen napping near him while senku works.

🌼 being that love languages are somewhat like data points, which clear parameters for what constitutes each one, senku was surprisingly on board with love languages and makes a point of meeting his “goals” of giving and receiving love each day. the power of science.

emotional:

❤️‍🩹 as smooth and well put together gen can be, he does need more consistent attention than senku realized. in the beginning of their relationship, there were plenty of fights and miscommunications because gen felt unloved or ignored, and senku was wrapped up in whatever new goal he had in mind.

❤️‍🩹 similarly, senku felt some tension whenever gen chose to spend time with others. not that he was particularly jealous, only in that he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy having gen by his side, even for mundane tasks.

❤️‍🩹 both are fierce secret keepers. gen was the first to talk, and confided in senku some of his biggest fears. that opened the door for senku to do the same, as sharing his vulnerabilities do not come easily to him whatsoever.

spicy:

⭐️ gen, initially, thought that he would be a more dominant top with senku and assumed that his lack of experience would mean he needed a lot of guidance. turns out, senku needed guidance in being dominant and topping, because he easily fell into that headspace.

⭐️ both of them are switches. just depends on the day. gen prefers bottoming and senku prefers topping.

⭐️ senku is a service top, through and through. gen tries to get him to be a little more selfish but it rarely works.

⭐️ gen loves the spectacle and drama of cute lingerie and visual aids. senku didn’t understand it until gen started wearing his favorites (particularly, a cat costume).

⭐️ while he may never actually verbally admit this, senku’s goal during sex is to make sure gen cums twice. if he doesn’t, he feels a bit like a failure, despite gen’s satisfaction.

⭐️ gen adores edging and extended foreplay. senku loves it the most when gen is submissive and bottoming.

#sengen #sengenheadcanons #dcst sengen #dcst #dcst gen #dcst senku #spicy sengen #drst #dr stone #drst sengen #drst asagiri gen #dsrt ishigami senku #senku ishigami #asagiri gen

[baronfulmen]

Why you should clear your brain’s cache and cookies

A Rant About Shrooms, AI Art, Trauma, and Appreciating Life

Hey look at this image.  You shouldn’t trust evolutionary psychology people because it’s often Just So Stories people make up, but that doesn’t mean we should throw out the baby with the bath water so let’s talk about the evolutionary importance of ✨PATTERN RECOGNITION ✨

Okay so the tiger in the picture above is trying to hide so it can eat us, and we’re trying to see it so we can avoid being eaten.  Great.  Cool.  That means there’s a VERY important part of our brains that has evolved to look at noisy images and play “find the tiger”.  (It works for non-visual stuff too, we’ll get to that.)

This is also how AI-generated art works, basically.  You give a computer some random static and then say “somewhere in this image is [insert prompt], find it” and it tries very hard to do so, like when you point out shapes in clouds to someone.

Our brains work via committee, so the part that’s doing that kind of pattern recognition and visual processing isn’t really any smarter than something like Google Deep Dream which you can hand a picture of some dude and say “FIND THE DOGS” and it’ll give you this:

People have compared images like the one above to being on shrooms and, having now taken shrooms for the first time I can say I get the comparison.  What’s important, though, is WHY this seems to be the case.  So far as I can tell (I’ll say this disclaimer once, I am some random dude on Tumblr and this is an anecdote, not scientific data - your experiences and brain chemistry may vary, do your research, I am not endorsing anything illegal, etc.) what happens on shrooms isn’t you being high, in the traditional sense.

Some drugs interfere with your perception and processing of the world.  That’s what I was expecting, and for a moment it’s what I thought I was getting.  But instead, I think what the shrooms did was delete my brain’s config file.

So now you’ve lost all the built up definitions and stored patterns, and you look at the walls and your brain no longer knows if there’s something important in all the detail.  Is there a tiger hiding in there?  WHO KNOWS!  And it takes all those little swirls and textures in the plaster or paint and starts over-processing all of it looking for patterns.  This means you don’t so much “come down” from being high, but finish re-calibrating.  At some point your brain is all, “Hey I’ve determined that’s just a normal texture for the ceiling to have, I’m not going to look that closely anymore”.

Okay but what does that have to do with trauma and appreciating life?

So glad you asked, hypothetical reader.

As I mentioned above, it’s not just visual stuff that we look for patterns in.  From an evolutionary standpoint it’s super valuable to be able to say “hey I ate that plant and then got sick, those are probably related and I shouldn’t eat that anymore”.  But there’s two big problems with that.  The first is that as with the visual processing that one part of your brain on its own isn’t smart.  It’s an algorithm, not an entire brain, so it fucks up sometimes.

I know a guy that couldn’t check his mail, because he’d been in really bad debt for a while and the fear of losing his home and the hounding by debt collectors  traumatized him so badly that his brain said “Man every time we look at the stuff that comes in the mail we get SO UPSET!  Better avoid looking at mail!” which meant when someone put envelopes down on top of the groceries (meaning he’d have to pick up what might be bills to get to the food) he found himself thinking “maybe I should just order pizza” even though he knew how stupid that was.  Trauma is a bitch, y’all.

The other thing is that sometimes the pattern was valid but is simply no longer useful.  The context has changed, and now it’s getting in the way rather than helping... but your brain doesn’t have a reset button.  Well, not a built-in one... but turns out this shit does the trick:

This is a PB&J&M sandwich I ate yesterday.  Ignore the chipped plate.  It made me feel kinda queasy all day, and at first I was disappointed.  I felt a little floaty and wobbly and things did start to look a little interesting, and I was having a nice time, but it wasn’t the mind-blowing experience I’d been hoping for.  And then the shrooms finished deleting all my stored patterns.

You know that stoner thing where they’re like “dude this cat is, like, so soft.  Why can’t we all just love each other and pet cats?” and you roll your eyes at them?  Yeah, well, the thing to know is that’s not them being stoned, that’s them seeing the world with a fresh perspective and realizing that, yeah, cats ARE soft and we don’t appreciate that enough and man why CAN’T we just relax and love each other?

In other words, it’s not distorting your perception - it’s resetting it.  You get to experience that wonder and joy of seeing things for the first time, and it’s lovely.  There are so many details that your brain files away as unimportant - it’s busy checking for tigers, who cares about appreciating the grass?  I had a great talk with my daughter (side disclaimer, she’s an adult and I was totally lucid by then and I cleared it with my designated babysitter first) and got to really see her as an adult for the first time.  Kids grow up a little at a time and it’s wild to be able to wipe out the “yeah, yeah, that’s your kid, you know what they look like” thing and SEE them, see how they’ve grown and what they really look like as a whole adult person.

I also realized I wasn’t being fair with her.  She’s had issues I won’t go into here, she’s done some dangerous or irresponsible shit like most kids have and I was still filled with parental anxiety about that and was viewing her through that filter.  What is she up to?  Is she acting squirrely?  She hasn’t been home for a few days and now she’s all manic, is she safe?  Is she fucking up?  Am I fucking up by letting her fuck up?

And with that filter erased, I could see... she’s a good kid.  She’s manic because she has ADHD and decided she doesn’t want to take meds.  She has some issues, but she’s an adult now and those aren’t my business anymore; those are now her adult issues that she can work on in her own time and her own way.  I can finally look at her as... not a peer, she’s still my kid, but as a complete adult person that I don’t need to fix and can just love and support.

It’s like Marie Kondo came into my brain and was like “hey does this pattern you’re viewing everything through spark joy?  No?  Okay let’s thank it for its service and send it on its way.”

And this is why people use shrooms to treat trauma.  I’m not saying it’s a magic cure-all, I’m not saying that it will work for everyone, but... man it’s pretty great to clear things out.  That sense of wonder and appreciation is already fading, but it’s not that the shrooms are wearing off - the wipe was an event not a condition - it’s just the normal process of my brain filing things away as “not a tiger” and ignoring them again.

It’s like those power washing videos.  You scour off the accumulated grime, and then the grime starts to build up again but at least you get it nice and clean for now and were reminded that, hey, that can look pretty nice.  I can see why people say not to do them too often, as wonderful as my experience was there just wouldn’t be a point in doing it again right away.  Maybe in a few months, who knows.

Final thoughts and warnings

I was queasy the whole day, longer than most people seem to experience.  It didn’t bother me much, I never felt like I was in danger of throwing up although I know people who have.  If you’re worried about it there are ways around that, it’s caused by the actual mushrooms rather than the active chemicals so you can (supposedly) make a sort of tea and strain out the actual mushroom bits. 

I tried watching some of those trippy videos, and that was a mistake.  There was too much visual stimulation and the disconnect of “wait it looks like we’re flying through a psychedelic landscape of fractals but it feels like we’re just sitting in a chair” made me feel antsy and uncomfortable.  Turns out it’s better to just look at something fairly boring and let your brain over-analyze it.

Have a babysitter.  My wonderful supportive wife was mine, and I ended up not needing one but frankly that might be my own strange brain.  I’ve always had a strong separation between the main “thinking” part of my brain and the rest, so there wasn’t really any chance I would mistake my altered state for normal life.  Better safe than sorry though, especially at first.

Do your research.  Don’t go for the highest dose you can in search of some crazy trip - the best thing is the mental refresh, not seeing the walls move.  I took 3.5g, just for reference.

Plan for it to take up your whole day AND to be kinda tired the day after.  Think of it like taking a sick day, you’re going to want to spend most of the time just laying back and dozing on the couch.

Be in a good mood, and a place that makes you feel good.  Lots of people suggest being out in nature, I can imagine that would be really nice.

Be extremely cautious when combining shrooms with other things.  Don’t do it on purpose - it’s not needed, I promise - and do your research if you’re on anti depressants because while it seems mostly safe there’s theoretically a chance of having a bad interaction like serotonin syndrome.  My own research has implied that’s probably not an actual concern but I’m just some guy on Tumblr and you shouldn’t trust me.

Don’t use drugs if you’re under 20, don’t do illegal stuff, don’t blame me if you fuck yourself up.  I will not under any circumstances assist anyone in obtaining shrooms.  All I’ll say is they’re legal in some places and if you don’t live in one of those places you’re on your own.  While they do grow naturally in some places, so do mushrooms that will fucking kill you - and it can be hard to tell the difference.  Don’t eat random mushrooms, ever.

#shrooms #magic mushrooms #cw drug use #tw drug use #psychadelic

[enigmaticxbee]

X(-Files) and Os

Os - Mulder and Scully are epic huggers. Scully throwing herself half dressed into his arms in the pilot, and his surprise and then acceptance? Scully finally opening up and letting herself cry in his arms at the end of Irresistible and how much he needs to hold her too? Scully folding herself over Mulder in Demons as he crouches on the floor after drilling holes in his head on a suicide mission to find answers before it’s too late and Scully is gone? The FTF hallway scene - you’ve kept me honest, you’ve made me a whole person??? Mulder using baseball as an excuse to put his arms around her in The Unnatural - in a very rare moment of lightheartedness and joy? Scully wrapping herself around him again in another moment of despair at his mother’s death in Sein und Zeit? Mulder tucking her into bed in Requiem and wrapping himself around her and telling her what he felt watching her hold that baby? The way they wrap around each other - and nuzzle! noses! - on the motel bed at the end of The Truth, left with nothing but each other, and maybe that’s enough?? I have nothing profound to say, just that they love each other.

Xs - But what - truly what - did txf production team have against light? Game of Thrones watchers thought they had it bad with that night battle? Try waiting through 5 seasons and an epic bee-block for Mulder to kiss (well, a 1939 version of) Scully in Triangle and to be able to tell that it’s hot, but to see almost nothing! Just shadow! Even my favorite kiss - the jail cell reunion kiss in The Truth with Skinner hovering awkwardly in the background - suffers from this show’s commitment to its dark, spooky aesthetic. Because it’s the little details that I can see that I love so much - their thumbs each caressing each other’s cheeks, the way they don’t want to let go - and I want to see it all. The forehead kisses though, they can never take those away from us.

And I’m still salty that they never kissed in the revival!

* I didn’t include any cut scenes, extra takes, etc. since they aren’t part of the episode, but just know that I have lost minutes - hours - days - of my life watching the FTF outtakes, thank you GA and DD 😘

#msr #i tried a little data visualization!

[ashknife]

Blossom

This is for the @inklings-challenge. I didn't have the benefit of running this through my writing group for critique and editing, so it is exceptionally rough. It's done, but it needs work. Something to do when I graduate in May. :) If you have suggestions or criticism to make, I would greatly appreciate it.

>/-u:bl0$$0m >/-p:*************** User authenticated. Welcome, bl0$$0m. TaurOS 7.2.9 rev.2 update available. See UPDATE -README for details. bl0$$0m>/-jack a2.82.71.89.82.fe -in/quiet Initializing peripherals. VineTech Helm Visor XG51 detected. VineTech Glide Gloves XG51 detected. VineTech Chest Mount Expansion XG51 detected. Please wait...... 9.8 PB allocated. Entering TaurNet...... Welcome, user bl0$$0m.

Visuals initializing.

A small room appears in her sight. It is covered in vines and foliage. A square fountain in the middle, covered in lily pads, provides water to this lush little garden.

Audio initializing.

The sound of trickling water gently pelts her ears. A breeze whooshes above, rustling the plants and calling attention to the windchimes above.

Sensories initializing.

She feels the cool breath of the wind caress her skin. The sun filtering in from above counters with its warmth. The dichotomy is pleasing. The scent of the plants fills her nostrils. She almost sneezes; she is thankful she doesn’t. The mess would have been a pain to clean up.

Controls initialized. Happy exploring.

She moves her body around the garden. Walking around is almost like walking around the dark room she is really seated in. It’s close enough to be disconcerting. No matter how many times she’s done this, she has to take a few minutes to reorient herself to the virtual environment. She performs a few stretches and exercises while she’s at it. There will be a lot of activity today.

“Hey, get your bearings yet?” Spencer’s disembodied voice crackled slightly.

“Almost. You’re breaking up a little,” Blossom replied.

“Can’t help it. There’s a massive storm outside. Let me know when you’re ready. Red is on standby,” Spencer said.

“Yo,” Redjack said. “I see you’re in one of the VineTech gardens.”

“It came with the gear,” she said.

“Did you get the XG51 set? Nice!” Spencer said.

“That’s right, boys. Only quality goods for this girl,” she said.

“That pocket garden is nice. If we weren’t already linked, I’d never know it was there. Is it true? Can you link that room anywhere?” Redjack said. Blossom smiled a little. Even she enjoyed the new car smell.

“I tried putting it just outside the library subbasement. I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Blossom said.

“Which door?”

“A-51.”

“Ok, I’m watching. On your mark, Blossom.”

“Security is light down there, but be on your guard,” Spencer said.

“Got it,” she replied. “3…2…1…”

She opened the door out into a large, dusty lobby. Dust kicked up from the floor in a visible wave emanating from the opening portal.

“Oh, wow. I think you’re the first to disturb the air here in a long time,” Redjack commented.

“You said light security, Spence. Do you think it’s still around?” Blossom asked.

“Sensors don’t need to physically patrol an area to scan it. Some gremlins can remain inert for decades before being activated,” Spencer replied.

“Don’t let my guard down,” she said.

“Exactly. People have died from less,” Spencer said.

Blossom carefully stepped into the lobby. To her left was a large set of stairs leading up to the ground floor. A couple of dim rays from the cyberworld above pierced through, illuminating parts of a utilitarian directory in front of a big desk. Circulation, Preservation, and Housekeeping were to the right.

“This desk looks like a reception area for the basement offices,” Blossom said. “I can see some of the directory. Preservation is to my right. Is that where the archives are?”

“Not necessarily, but it’s a good place to start,” Spencer said.

“Not to alarm, but going off of Spence’s point earlier, there are a couple of inert gremlins under the desk. I’m prepping some weapon data just in case. What would you like?” Redjack said.

“The usual,” she said.

“On it,” he replied.

“Any sentries close by?” Spencer said.

“Three blocks down,” Redjack said.

“I’ll look. You’re clear to walk to that point,” Spencer said.

“Got it,” Blossom said. She advanced down the dark hallway with short, purposeful steps. She looked side-to-side with as much caution. Though the hallways were mostly bare, that did not mean they were empty. More than once, she was ambushed by cleverly camouflaged data gremlins, dangerous anomalies residing in the depths of cyberspace. They are pockets of corrupted data left down here for months, decades, or even centuries. Having been overlooked for so long and thus no programs to handle garbage collection, the corruptions evolved into some sort of animalistic state with a monstrous appearance. The depths of cyberspace are home to dangers such as this. It takes professional hackers like Blossom and her crew to brave and survive those depths to retrieve lost data. Hacker is one of the most respected professions on Taurus Rho.

Blossom crept to the end of the hall, where a pair of steel doors painted the same cream as the walls blocked her path. If Spencer was right, the sentries would be on the other side of the doors, so she relaxed a bit and took in her surroundings. She had seen the upper floors of this library before with rows of heavy wooden shelves with numerous imaginative posters begging patrons to read, read, read. There was colorful carpet to complement the colorful walls and numerous streamers hanging from the ceiling. It felt open, lively, and inviting. It was hard to believe that these lower levels were part of the same building. The offices, technical processing, and archives lived down here, so the design was far more utilitarian. Perhaps if she had a chance, she would peek into an office. Surely the librarians who worked here had lively desks.

“Hard to believe that this was a lively place twenty years ago, huh?” Redjack said.

“The first digital library,” she said.

“It had a good run, but now there are five bigger ones above and plans for even more. It didn’t take long for people to forget it,” he said.

“Red, how deep do you think cyberspace is?”

“Well, Nighthawk claimed to have been ten kilometers below, and that was when this library was in its final days. That makes that now, what, twelve?”

“How deep was that depot? The deepest we made?”

“Five.”

“I remember the cliffside there. I could see down a long ways.”

“I imagine it could be twenty, thirty, or more deep. Humanity has been on Taurus Rho for several centuries, and technology keeps expanding.”

“We can make it deeper, I bet. Deeper than even the great Nighthawk.”

“Yeah. One step at a time, anyway. What’s the word, Spencer? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m confused. These scanners are VineTech,” Spencer said.

“VineTech? But, they’re a startup. They haven’t been around for even five years,” Blossom said.

“Weapon inbound,” Redjack interrupted.

A somewhat ornate spear materialized in front of Blossom, who took it, twirled around, and struck at a pair of gremlins in one fluid motion. The spearhead connected to the skull of the vaguely humanoid anomaly. It hissed and quivered violently before collapsing to the ground. Its buddy lunged at Blossom. She sidestepped the attack and jabbed the spear into its side, where it collapsed in a strange pile.

“Executing garbage collection,” Spencer said.

A dim light briefly engulfed the gremlin corpses. The corrupted data dispersed, leaving behind a couple of scraps of paper. Blossom picked them up and looked at them.

“This scrap is part of an old newspaper,” she said, crumpling it and tossing it behind her. “But this one, it appears to be an encrypted note. I’m uploading it to you, Spence.”

The other scrap disappeared from her hand in a small shower of white sparkles.

“Got it. So, those sentries are recent products from VineTech. Stealth Series 1 Beta. They’re supposed to be hard to detect.”

“Someone doesn’t want us down here,” Blossom said.

“It’s a good bet that someone knows we’re here. Should we abort?” Spencer said.

“Can you move that room?” Redjack asked.

“Yes, I can,” Blossom said. “Tried it the other day around my space.”

“The client gave us a detailed description of the record they want from the archives. If she hurried, she can get to it and then hop through a side door back into her safe space,” Redjack said.

“That’s risky,” Spencer said.

“I get the feeling there won’t be another chance,” Blossom said.

“If someone laid that trap for us, then there’s little use for stealth. I’ll scan the area for the target. You should see it on your HUD soon, Blossom,” Spencer said.

“Activating systems. Let’s make some noise,” Redjacked yelled.

The dark hallways lit up almost brighter than day. Blossom grunted as she brought her arm over her eyes. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a red targeting reticle appear down behind the doors.

“Archives are next to preservation, as you guessed. Run!” Spencer said.

Menus darted across Blossom’s vision as she selected a slew of commands to augment her abilities. Her destination was only a couple hundred meters down; she would be fine expending a large amount of data to get there quickly, especially if she had to run for her life. As if to confirm that, the sounds of machinery and crashing echoed from above the lobby stairs. 

Blossom cursed as her spear glowed an eerie green color. With a practiced slash, she cut down the doors in front of her. She jumped past them and sprinted down the hall. Within seconds, she reached a set of doors leading into Preservation. She kicked the doors in to see a large room with shelves of boxes, chemicals, and plastic sleeving. Down the hall where she came from, she could see an Enforcer, a humanoid-shaped program designed by the military to help police the public areas of cyberspace.

“Blossom…” Spencer started.

“I know!” Weaving her spear around, she burst through Preservation, cutting through the tables and shelves before slicing down another set of doors. This led to a small warehouse with mostly empty shelves. There were several gremlins, all of whom were agitated by the sudden change in environment. In the middle of that was the target record. Hearing the crashing behind her, Blossom leaped forward, over the gremlins and shelves, and landed two aisles away from the record. The Enforcer exploded through what was left of those doors and charged forward, but the gremlins found it more interesting than Blossom.

“Precious seconds bought. There’s a door down the aisle where the record is found. Grab it and go!” Spencer said.

More menu options floated in front of Blossom as she ran to the correct aisle and rushed to the record. It appeared to be an old journal of some kind. She pocketed it and ran for the door. Light flickered behind it, and it opened to her private garden. The sound of struggle between the Enforcer and the gremlins quieted down. She was out of time. With a final burst of speed, she leaped for the door and slammed it behind her. The door bulged with a fist-like shape. Furiously, she entered commands. Soon, the bulge returned to normal as her garden transported her to somewhere safe. She pulled the journal out.

“The memoirs of Jackson A. Miller is ours,” she said.

Both men exhaled.

“Good job, Blossom,” Redjack said.

“Another narrow escape, thanks to your upgrades,” Spencer said. “Guess I should do the same, yeah? I’ll meet you at the normal place.”

“Sure thing.”

A pair of wired, sleek gloves pulled a similarly styled helmet off. The young woman gasped for fresh air and then sat there while her pulse and breathing slowly returned to normal. Every close call unnerved her. If the Enforcer had gotten a hold of her like it did those gremlins…well, this room would have been quite the mess for someone to clean up.

She stood up, slid the chest mount off, and hung the pieces of the XG51 into their sanitation station. She ambled to the bathroom and looked at the mirror. Her undershirt was drenched with sweat, and her black hair was also drenched and matted. She ran her fingers down her dried face and stared at her brown eyes for a few moments. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

“This is going to be the death of you, Laura,” she told her reflection.

A shower and some fresh clothes later, Laura stepped out of her apartment into the city streets. As much as she didn’t care for the inner parts of Prime City, she was glad for the opportunity to get out and distance herself from the virtual reality suit. The storm Spencer complained about had just passed over this part of the city, so there was a little freshness in the air. Her dark grey beanie, scarf, coat, slacks, and boots blended with the overcast sky, the city buildings, and many of her fellow pedestrians. She trotted to keep pace with the crowd, warily watching while keeping her face down. A pair of earbuds quietly played music from children’s show Duck the Rabbit; they were also a type of hearing aid. They saved her more than a few times from nosy reporters and angry strangers.

A quarter-hour stroll through the city streets brought her to a little cafe, La Fleur Petit. An eccentric old lady crazy about fungus ran the place, which was enough to scare off most people who weren’t regulars. It was a cozy spot that served a delicious cup of coffee and a large, warm waffle. Laura could smell the waffles the entire walk down. She opened the door and stepped in.

A wrinkled raisin of a woman sat at the register hunched over in a somewhat comatose pose. It wasn’t clear if she was contemplating the mysteries of the universe or was asleep. An eye peeked to see who it was, and then she burst into life.

“Oh, you can’t hide from me, sweetie! I know which blossom those eyes belong to,” she said.

“Good evening, Madame Sophie,” Laura said. Sophie grabbed Laura’s cool hand and stared seriously into her eyes.

“Still so formal after all these years. One day, young lady. One day, you will call me Grandma or Toots or something.” She cackled. Laura couldn’t help but smile as the old lady dragged her to her normal table. There was a guest waiting for her, as expected.

“Waffle and coffee?” Sophie asked.

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll return shortly.”

Laura sat at the table and faced her guest, who was dressed similarly. They sat in silence until Sophie returned with fresh coffee in mushroom-shaped mugs. She sat a mug in front of Laura and another in front of the guest.

“Your orders will be ready in a few. Relax and enjoy!” She bowed and walked back to the counter, singing an old tune using mushroom names as lyrics. Laura’s guest lifted his mug.

“The fields are white unto harvest,” he said.

“But the laborers are few,” she said, lifting her mug. They loosened their scarves and savored a sip.

“Sophie makes good coffee. I wonder where she sources it,” the man said.

“See? Like that, dearie!” Sophie called from the counter. Laura laughed.

“I don’t know, but she’s earned a few secrets,” she said.

“Do you have the journal?” he said.

“Here.” Laura produced a small drive and handed it over. He looked it over and placed it in a pouch.

“That was a close call. Did that punch get in your garden?”

“About two feet, I think. It…I…do you know something, Spence? I think we were targeted.” Spencer nodded.

“Here’s a copy of that note.” He pulled out a folded scrap of paper. “Decrypted,” he added.

Laura took and unfolded it.

Flowers wither. -M

She looked up.

“I don’t know who we angered, but somehow we did,” Spencer said.

“Any ideas? Past clients? Jobs?” she asked.

“I think it might actually have been this job. Jackson A. Miller was an old general, someone the deposed General Blackheart looked up to. Our client was really good at hiding his information, but I still managed to dig up some info. A librarian who was personal friends with the same Mason Blackheart, Apollo DeGreen. Seems he might be doing a favor for his old buddy.”

“General Blackheart was deposed seven years ago and disappeared soon after. Wouldn’t this be someone acting on an old grudge?”

“Maybe, but then they seemed to know who you are. That they sent an Enforcer after you meant they were someone high up. Very few people get to command those. I just don’t know who M is.”

He stared intently at her. She stared back. Sophie arrived with plates of waffles and sausage.

“Oh, Sophie, I could eat this every day,” Spencer said.

“How nice of you to say, but you already get my best discount,” Sophie replied as she placed the food down for her guests. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Laura stared for a bit longer, and then she looked at the scrap again. Something caught her eye. There was a tiny bit of writing underneath the note.

“Hey, there’s an address here,” she said, handing the note back.

“You’re right,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You know something.”

“Yeah, but I can’t crack. Not yet. Trust me a little longer,” she said, taking in a bite of waffle. If only she could hold that warm, fluffy moment forever.

“You were almost killed,” he said, holding his first bite in.

“I…yeah. That unnerved me, but I have to face the danger. We need to go to that address.”

“This is clearly a trap.”

“I know.”

“But you want to go?”

“I have to. It’s…important.”

“The ever-nebulous quest of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I could take it if you were silenced.”

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time. You’re a person, too. Red and I care about you. We’re a great team. We could keep this going for years to come.”

“Spence…”

“I know better than to try to talk you out of this, but if this goes south, we’re gonna have to lay low for a while.” Laura sighed.

“Thank you, Spence. Just trust me a little longer, and then you’ll learn all you want.”

“You’re a hard nut to crack, Blossom.”

“I have to be. Look, she made these look like shiitake.”

They ate and chatted for a while longer before leaving.

The door to Laura’s apartment opened quietly. She stepped in and closed the door just as carefully. She stepped into the kitchen and stripped the gear off of her head, placing them on the table. She inhaled sharply and brought her fist down on the table, jolting everything on it. She screamed in frustration.

She knew who M was. M was the Matriarch, the name her aunt used in cyberspace. Her real name was Anastasia Plumer. She was the governing regent of Sector Prime, one of the most populous sectors on the planet. She obtained the position by exposing the corruption of the previous regent and that of his advisors. Evidence of that corruption extended to her father, General Mason Blackheart. The general embezzled funds for his family and used his position to cover for a number of Laura’s missteps, including a failed attempt to sexually assault her own cousin, Lance Plumer. In an act of goodwill, Anastasia pardoned their crimes when General Blackheart stepped down in the face of his charges.

Charges that Laura knew were completely fabricated. Anastasia and Lance had powerful and skilled friends. All it took was a little sample of Laura’s DNA that she unwittingly provided. From that, they could recreate nearly every detail about her, including her voice and mannerisms. It was groundbreaking technology, the kind that Taurus Rho was known for. The people behind this brought that technology to market under the name VineTech.

Anastasia was calling Laura out, and Laura had no choice but to follow along. It was the only way she could get close enough to find something, anything, to exonerate herself and her father. She was right: this might really be the death of her.

“Let me get this straight: we’re infiltrating an address left behind by someone who tried to kill you?” Redjack asked.

“Yes,” Spencer and Blossom answered.

“You know, I need to find my way to Prime City so I can smack you both upside the head,” Redjack said.

“It’s been a while since the last time,” Blossom said.

“It has, and if this mission goes to pot, it won’t be happening ever again,” Redjack said.

“Don’t be all glum, Red. If this mission goes well, Blossom said she would spill the beans,” Spencer said.

“Wait, really? Like, we can finally know your name and all that?” Redjack said.

“Yeah. I have a feeling we’ll find something big here,” Blossom said.

“If you make it. I mean, given what we know, they could be going after me and Spence when this is over.”

“If this is our end, then let it be something noteworthy. I mean, we are trying to be greater than Nighthawk, right?” Spencer said.

“Now or never,” Blossom said.

“Right,” Redjack said. “I see you attached your garden to that address. I can have a weapon placed right outside for you. You’ll need it: the place is crawling with gremlins.”

“The place looks like an abandoned vacation home that sunk into the depths. Records of who it once belonged to seem to have been corrupted. Maybe one of those gremlins has them,” Spencer said.

“I can block some doors and funnel the gremlins down a corridor. That should help you dispatch them,” Redjack said.

“Alright. Reserve some data for a hasty retreat,” Blossom said. “I’d rather this not be the end if I can help it.”

“Already on it,” Redjack said.

“Okay, on my mark,” Blossom said. “3…2…1…”

Blossom burst through the door, grabbing the spear dropped next to it. One thrust, two, and then three inflicted fatal wounds on as many gremlins.

“Starting garbage collection,” Spencer said.

“Funneling enemies. They should be coming out of the door to the left,” Redjack said.

“How many?” Blossom asked.

“About thirty.”

Blossom sighed, inhaled deeply, and slammed the butt of the spear on the ground.

“Bring it!” she said, readying the spear for the first to come out.

Come out they did. As the door burst open, two gremlins popped out. Meanwhile, the doorway appeared to shrink down to a third of its size, forcing further gremlins to have to squeeze through.

“That should hold for a while. Take them out,” Redjack said.

Blossom stabbed the two in front of her, and then she charged at the doorway, running through another. She stood in front of it, stabbing at each one trying to get through to her. With Spencer clearing the corrupted data, there was plenty of room for the remaining gremlins to make their way to Blossom. By the time the last fell, she yawned with boredom.

“I expected more,” she said.

“Don’t let your guard down, lady,” Spencer said. He grunted. “Nothing useful. They were all made of bits and bobs. I think they were all made recently.”

“What are we looking for, anyway?” Redjack asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. Evidence of some kind,” Blossom said.

“You’re risking your life for something vague?”

“This time, yes. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know what it is when I find it.”

“Okaaay…” Redjack said. “Well, you are in the den of a mansion. Your garden is attached to a door that goes outside. The door to the left of that, where you just killed gremlins, leads further into the mansion. On the opposite side, you should see some double doors that lead out into a courtyard. There is a bridge that goes over a pond to an island that houses a small tower. I don’t know about you, but I think I would have fun at this place. You, aside from the monster infestation.”

Blossom gasped. She knew this place.

“The tower. It’s got to be in the tower.”

“How do you know?” Spencer said.

“I just…I just do. Are there any enemies out there?”

“None that I see,” Redjack said. There just seem to be a couple of spotlights. How odd.”

“Huh…yeah, they’re just spotlights. Nothing out of the ordinary there,” Spencer said.

The ground shook. A guttural scream echoed through the mansion.

“That…oh, that one is huge. And he’s above you,” Redjack said.

“I don’t like this, Blossom. You’re being pushed there. You know there is trap of some kind somewhere,” Spencer said.

“I’ll deal,” she said, approaching the courtyard doors. They were large enough to allow a small vehicle in. A plank of wood resting on metal braces barred the door from opening. Blossom lifted the plank and set it aside. She then twisted the second brace from the right, revealing a small hole inside the door. She retrieved a key, which she inserted into the keyhole. There was a loud click, and then the doors swung open.

“Huh…” Spencer said.

“I couldn’t see that. Where exactly are we?” Redjack said.

“It’s–” Blossom started. Another heavy scream cut her off.

“Tell us later. Go!” Redjack said.

Blossom ran out into the courtyard. It was a simple grassy yard with a large pond in the middle. In the middle of the pond stood a small tower rising about three stories. A rough path of large stones connected the door to a wooden bridge that crossed the pond. The stone path continued on the island to the tower.

Blossom made it halfway to the bridge when a large, dark mass poured itself out of the courtyard door like a thick oil. Once out, it wriggled violently until it could form a pair of arms, a pair of eyes, and a pair of eyes. The gremlin was easily the size of an elephant, and its core was darker than any night sky Blossom had ever seen.

Blossom bolted to the bridge just as the gremlin chased after her. The ground under the gremlin suddenly gave way as if it was as viscous as the creature.

“Thanks, Red,” Blossom said as she stepped on the bridge. Just a few more steps, and she would be on the island, and then the tower, and then whatever was held in it.

Then the spotlights lit up.

Blossom cried out as she did her best to shield her eyes from their glare.

“Don’t tell me…” Spencer said.

“Oh. Oh, no!” Redjack said. “There’s no way!”

Blossom was not the only one who cried out. The gremlin screeched in pain. It scrambled like a panicked bug back to the mansion.

“We’re too high up to see any of these,” Spencer said. “How is this possible?”

There were four spotlights, each attached to the fence around the courtyard. Their intense light focused on Blossom. Wherever she blindly stumbled, they followed her. The large beams grew brighter and more focused. A thin beam of the whitest light shot from each spotlight and hit Blossom’s head. She seized up, held up only by her twitching muscles and the lights which bore into her.

“I’m going in,” Spencer said.

“Are you nuts?! We’ve never dealt with the Lights of Truth!” Redjack said.

“If I know my lore, they’ll only be focused on her. If I don’t, well, it was worth a shot. We can’t jack her out until she’s free of them, which means one of us has to pull her out.”

Redjack cursed.

“I knew you’d understand,” Spencer said.

The lights intensified, drilling into Blossom’s mind. Her body contorted in awful angles, and her cries sounded inhuman. Streams of silver poured out of her head. There were hundreds of them, and they threatened to corrupt the space around them and form gremlins. However, in the light, they instead stabilized and turned into windows showing pictures, objects, scenes, and even ideas and feelings.

“There’s a ton of data coming through. You’ll have to jack in on my mark,” Redjack said.

“Got it,” Spencer replied. “What’s going on?”

“It’s…her. Everything about her. Everything.”

“What? That’s it?”

“I don’t think you understand, Spence. You should see this.”

“Okay.”

“Opportunity’s coming. 3…2…1…”

A  shower of light by the courtyard door heralded Spencer’s entrance. The lights around him were nearly too much to take in, but they were not nearly as intense as they were on the bridge. Silver streams continued to wrest themselves out of Blossom’s mind, turning in to data streams. Scenes of school, trips, military parades, family, especially…

“General Mason Blackheart?” Spencer said. The deposed general factored into several memories.

“Blossom is…Laura Blackheart? Have we been working with the general’s daughter this whole time?” Redjack said.

“This was the regent’s vacation home! Red, where is all this data going?”

Redjack gasped and cursed. “It’s going somewhere in downtown Prime. I can’t contain any of this! Get her out!”

Spencer approached the bridge. The heat of the lights was unbearable, but that was nothing compared to Laura’s writhing body. It contorted just the right way for him to reach his arms in and hook them around her shoulders. He pulled her as close as her body and the attached lights would allow.

“Got a boost for me?” Spencer said.

“I’ll try, buddy,” Redjack said. “Here goes…”

Spencer yanked. Redjack’s boost was more than he expected, for he flew back into the mansion with Laura in tow. It was enough to disconnect her from the lights, which immediately powered down. She quivered in exhaustion and gasped for breath.

“Throw her in the garden. I'll jack her out,” Redjack said.

Spencer dragged Laura to the door hosting her private garden. He was unable to enter it, so he gathered her into his arms like he was carrying a large sack.

“I’m sorry, but I hope this will be less painful than what you just went through,” he said.

He swung her twice before letting go a third time. She flew a few feet into the garden, landing hard on the ivy-covered ground. Spencer winced.

“I’m so sorry, Blossom,” he said, closing the door.

Laura screamed as she yanked the XG51 off. She clawed at her head, which felt like it had been drilled into hundreds of times. She stumbled out of her chair, choking out sobs, clutching her chest, and using the wall to hold herself up. Eventually, she made it to the bathroom, where she allowed herself to trip down to the toilet. She vomited into it. When nothing more could come out, she collapsed on the floor. She tried to wrap the rug around her. She pulled the towels off the drying rack to wrap around her, and then she tried to reach for the clean ones shelved above the rack. Eventually, she stopped reaching and cried herself to sleep.

“Welcome! Oh! Oh…” Sophie hurried around the counter and grabbed Laura’s hands. It had been two days since her mind was invaded. She existed on the bathroom floor for most of that, but something within willed her to get up, clean up, and take the stroll to La Fleur Petit. She wore two layers of clothing under her coat and wrapped her scarf extra tight. The wet, red rings around her eyes made her look threatening. She tried to say something to Sophie.

“Shh, hush now. Come, your friends are waiting. I will make something special for you.”

Waiting? She didn’t tell anyone she would be there. Yet, there were two men dressed like her. Of course. Who else could it have been? They were already enjoying their coffee in mushroom-shaped mugs. A fresh mug was waiting for her. Sophie helped her sit, and she was off into the kitchen.

“The fields are ripe to harvest,” Spencer said.

“But…the laborers…” Laura answered, choking up. She breathed in slowly and collected herself.

“Are few,” she finished. She loosened her scarf a little, trying to have just enough room to drink her coffee and nothing more. The two men removed their scarves completely, loosened their coats, took off their caps, and relaxed. Spencer leaned forward.

“So, we, uh, saw everything,” he said. Laura nodded cautiously.

“To be honest, I thought all this effort to be secretive and hidden was a novel schtick, You know, an edgy kind of roleplay that was sort of our trademark thing. I mean, why do we need to hide? We’re hackers. We do the dangerous work of finding things in the deep so that nobody else has to, right? But, now I understand. I know why we needed to be secretive. Why you were always so hidden. You had to be,” Spencer said.

“The regent was after you,” Redjack continued. “She tried to mine, well, you. She learned about Spence and I.”

‘I put you danger. We have to lay low. I shouldn’t have…” Laura said.

“Yeah, we’re in danger. Or would have been,” Redjack said. He pushed a folded piece of paper to her. Laura took and unfolded it. She looked up. On the note was an image of a hawk’s head.

“Apparently Nighthawk is still in business, and he took enough shine to us to divert most of the data heading to the lady regent,” Spencer said.

Tears fell as a great weight lifted from Laura’s shoulders.

“I…I’m so grateful!” she blurted. Spencer stood up.

“For better or for worse, the time for secrets is behind us. My name is James Smith. My grandfather, Spencer O’Toole, was a hacker and someone I admired greatly.” He held out his hand. Redjack stood and offered his hand, as well.

“I, well, there’s nothing meaningful to Redjack. My name is Jack Redman. I just thought it sounded cool. Computers are sort of my dig, you know?”

Laura stood and took her scarf off.

“Laura Blackheart. I’m pleased to meet you both.” She shook each of their hands, and they sat back down.

“Oh, finally! You’re practically family now!” Sophie snuck up to the table with three steaming bowls, placing them before each person.

“Sophie, we didn’t order any soup,” Spencer said.

“Don’t worry! Today’s meal is on the house. The soup is my special recipe: a broth made from several different mushrooms! It’s the perfect remedy for cold, troubling days. I’ll be back later with your meals.” Sophie scooted off.

“That was generous of her,” Redjack said, lifting the bowl to his face. Spencer and Laura did the same.

“Cheers,” they said, and drank. The soup filled Laura with an otherworldly warmth, a feeling of calm in the midst of a raging storm. The earthy, peppery mushrooms felt oddly of home. There was joy, and longing, and peace.

Laura opened her eyes, suddenly aware she had almost drifted asleep. Spencer and Redjack, by the look on their faces, had similar reactions.

“What a masterpiece,” Spencer finally said. Silently, they sipped their soups until their bowls were empty. As if on cue, Sophie returned to collect their bowls and place out their entrees: a massive feast of eggs, bacon, and sausage piled on top of her mushroom-shaped waffles.

“I don’t know what you’ve suffered, but I’ll be dead before I let anyone walk over my children like that. Next time it happens, you point ol’ Sophie at ‘em. I’ll tan their hides so hard, they’ll wish I actually knocked them into next month.” Sophie walked back to the kitchen muttering other unsavory things she wanted to do. The three sat there for a moment, and then they erupted in laughter before digging in.

“We need to go back,” Laura said.

“I know you just got drilled in the head, but seriously?” Spencer said.

“Yes. Seriously. Aunt Anastasia baited a trap, but I never found the bait,” Laura said.

“The Lights of Truth are ancient traps. I can see how a rich and powerful person like the regent managed to get some moved to her old vacation home without destroying half of cyberspace, but there isn’t much known about them. I don’t know any way to disable them,” Redjack said.

“But Nighthawk does,” Laura said.

“Oh, right. He did claim to have a way to get through them. But we have no way to contact him,” Spencer said.

“If we caught his attention before, maybe we can catch it again,” Laura said.

“What if we don’t?” Redjack asked.

“Then we look for a way around. They activated when I got part way across the bridge. What if we went under it, or over the island, or through the ground? The tower, it’s important. She had that built for her kids and us cousins. It’s a big playhouse,” she answered.

“Well, those are possibilities,” Redjack conceded.

“What if the bait turns out to be a ruse?” Spencer asked.

“Well, I guess we lay low and learn from our mistakes,” Laura said.

“I think I heard something about Omega Phi looking for something like us hackers. Ever thought about moving off-world?” Redjack said.

“Let’s consider that after we deal with the task at hand,” Spencer said.

Laura stared at an empty mug.

“Grandma, can I have some more coffee?” she called out.

Sophie burst through the kitchen door with a full carafe of coffee and the widest grin.

“You make this old woman so happy, dear!”

A few days had passed before Blossom stepped back into the mansion’s den. It seemed whatever damage occurred during his last visit was repaired.

“Auntie is pretty diligent at maintaining her abandoned property,” she observed.

“That’s a bad sign,” Spencer said.

“Let’s go through with it, anyway. We may get lucky,” she said.

“Just in case, I have a program ready to jack you out in case the lights target you again. It’s going to hurt, but not like what you endured,” Redjack said.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” she said, stepping towards the courtyard doors. She immediately stopped and drew a sharp breath.

“Whoa! Who is that?” Redjack said. Although difficult to see in the dim lighting, there was a man standing in front of the courtyard doors. His dark raiment melded well with the shadows, but the helmet on his head was shaped like a hawk.

“Is that…?” Spencer started.

“Laura,” the man said sternly. Her knees gave out, and she fell on them. Her lips quivered and tears formed.

“That was reckless, the other day. I taught you better,” the man continued.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I had to…”

“How can you possibly surpass the great Nighthawk with such rookie mistakes?” he demanded.

“I never thought I would get to meet Nighthawk, and now he’s scolding us. I don’t think anything can surprise me anymore,” Redjack said.

“Anastasia isn’t satisfied. She wants us gone. I didn’t think I would have another opportunity!” Blossom pleaded to Nighthawk.

“Sometimes patience requires decades. You can’t expose anything if you lose control and get yourself killed for it,” Nighthawk countered. “And your teammates! Did you not think of them? Didn’t you ignore their warnings?”

Blossom punched the ground in frustration. Nighthawk walked to her.

“Get up,” he said. “Get up. Eyes up and forward. Face me.”

Blossom obeyed, standing to her feet and facing Nighthawk with eyes filled with defiance. Nighthawk grabbed her chin and chuckled softly.

“You’re as stubborn as ever. I’ve missed you, daughter.”

“Nighthawk is…” Spencer said. The sound of his headset hitting a wall replaced the rest of his statement.

“Tell me this is the last surprise we have to deal with. We can’t handle anymore,” Redjack said. Blossom could almost hear his facepalm.

“Where have you been?” Laura said.

“I’m sorry. I had to disappear, like you,” Nighthawk said. He cupped his hands around her head, and then he pulled her into an embrace.

“I missed you,” she said, hugging him back.

She could feel him pull his mask off. There was a shake, and then she felt something like a warm, fuzzy blanket cover her. She pulled back  to see a cloak covering her. Her father fastened the clasp at her neck and pulled the hood over her head. He waved a hand, revealing a mirror. In the reflection stood an older version of the father she knew. He leaned on a cane, and his hair and beard were grayer, but age could not erase the pride and intention in which he carried himself. Laura then noticed the ears on the hood and the little duck bill. She laughed, facepalmed, and sang.

“Duck, Duck the Bunny is his name

Helping the children is his game!”

General Blackheart walked around his daughter and tidied the wrinkles and debris off of the cloak. He joined in the song with his gruff, baritone voice.

“When evil rears its ugly head,

Duck will fly in and make it dead.

He saves the world as you can see

Duck is right here for you and me!”

“That was an awful show,” General Blackheart said.

“Yeah, but it kind of stuck,” Laura said.

General Blackheart looked Laura over once more, and then he sighed.

“I’m old and harsh. You suffered greatly from those lights. I hope you can forgive an old man for fearing for his little girl,” he said.

“I’m twenty-seven, Dad.”

“I’m almost 70. You will always be little to me. Now, we have some business to take care of, don’t we?”

Ruffled noises come from Spencer’s headset, followed by a long breath.

“General, do you plan on funding a long vacation for all of us when this is done?” he asked.

“I’ll do that and more if you succeed. How would you folks like to work with the great Nighthawk? I’ll teach you things you never thought possible,” General Blackheart replied.

“I’m ears,” Redjack said.

“You’re really helping us?” Laura said.

“Of course. I can’t have Anastasia harming my little blossom again,”

“What’s the plan?” Spencer said.

“Blossom is going to walk across the bridge and take whatever artifact is in the tower,” Nighthawk said as he pulled on a new hood.

“We tried that last time, and it didn’t work,” Redjack said.

“True, but last time you didn’t have all the necessary tools,” Nighthawk said.

“This cloak,” Blossom said.

“Right. I devised cloaks like this specifically to get past the Lights of Truth. They were a government experiment designed to mine the thoughts of the populace. As you’ve seen, they have painful results, and they were the refined, production versions,” Nighthawk said.

“So, you learned about them while you were actually General,” Spencer said.

“Right. That sort of clearance turned around and made me a legend, though you are the only ones outside my team to know this. Having the archived schematics of old, powerful weapons helped us to devise countermeasures,” Nighthawk said.

“Not to alarm anyone, but that giant gremlin is still there. How has he not seen us yet?” Redjack said.

“Let’s just say I know a few ways to obtain control of my space. I will upload some of those to you,” Nighthawk said. “The rest I cannot give you without causing you trouble.”

“What will the cloak do?” Spencer asked.

“It will reflect the light back to the source, causing it to mine itself. It won’t be destroyed, but it will be kept busy in a recursive loop for several minutes. Unfortunately, they will not be available to keep our friend upstairs at bay. That’s where I come in. I need you gentlemen to back me up while I keep him busy. With a little luck, we can take it out and recover a bit of treasure for ourselves,” Nighthawk said.

“What’s in the tower?” Blossom asked.

“I don’t know, but it will be on you to recover whatever is up there. I imagine Anastasia will have something else planned for you,” Nighthawk said. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I saw some of the memories drilled out of you. There was one in particular that caught my attention,” he said. A window appeared, showing a garden in Prime City.

“Wait a minute. Isn’t this where Laura supposedly assaults the regent’s son?” Spencer said.

“Look,” Nighthawk said.

A younger Laura walked down the starlit garden path. She wore a simple dress with golden feathers adorning her shoulders. Walking next to her was her cousin, Lance Plumer, who wore the ceremonial uniform of a colonel of the Prime Sector army. Earlier that day, new officers graduated from officer school, and Lance was one of the top graduates. The party that night was in their honor. Laura naturally attended the party, being the daughter of General Mason. It had been years since she and Lance saw each other, so this party was an excellent opportunity to catch up.

They ambled through the spacious garden for what seemed like hours before they stopped in a secluded corner. The journey was well-remembered. The words and sounds, however, were muffled. Laura barely remembered them. That is, until a certain point. Lance brought his hand up to Laura’s face.

“You really blossomed into a beautiful woman, Laura,” he said.

“Oh, stop it,” she laughed. “I’m still the same kid you ran around with.”

“Maybe we can do something more,” he said. His hand lowered, but before he got anywhere, she grabbed a hold of it. He thrust his other arm at her face, which she dodged and then bit. He yanked that arm back while she held on to the other, spinning under it and using the momentum to flip him onto the ground. She spat in his face and stormed off.

Nighthawk brought up a different window. “This is footage from the security camera,” he said.

The same scene played out, but from a perspective about ten feet away. When Laura stormed off, Lance produced a couple of vials from his coat and collected Laura’s spittle.

“That was much easier than I thought,” he said as he got up. He dusted himself off, looked around, and walked away.

“That…that…” Blossom started.

“It’s hard to know what was and wasn’t fabricated,” Nighthawk said. “So, I just wanted you to know, if this doesn’t work out, and we get separated again, know that I know the truth and have always believed it to be, even when we were being played.”

“If I hadn’t spat on him!” Blossom stormed to the courtyard door.

“Operation start, boys,” Nighthawk said.

Soon, the door swung open, and Blossom stomped her way to the bridge and over it. The spotlights lit up, again blinding her. However, she hid under her cloak while her sight recovered. The cloak lit up, producing a reflective barrier in the shape of Duck the Bunny. With a loud quack, the lights were reflected back to the spotlights. The spotlights shook violently and flickered as they tried to mine the minds that weren’t there.

“You know, she’s going to kill you for that,” Spencer said.

“Won’t be the first time. It’s a father’s job to embarrass his children,” Nighthawk said.

“Bogey is active. Look alive!” Redjack said.

Blossom huddled under her cloak while the sting dissipated from her eyes. When her vision recovered, she resumed her tirade to the island, and then up the path. She planted her foot squarely on the tower door, knocking it over. She climbed the steps as Nighthawk evaded the gremlin outside. The second floor contained four beds. Beside each was a bedstand equipped with a lamp, a few books, and a small shelf of toys. She crossed the room and ascended the next set of stairs. At the top of the stairs was a final door. She stopped for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and composed herself. And then, she knocked.

“Come in,” Anastasia answered.

Blossom stepped in. The room inside was much larger than it should have been. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace across from the door. A tea kettle sat over it. A rug lay in front of the fireplace. To either side of the rug were a pair of comfy chairs. A table with teacups and cookies sat in between them. Anastasia Plumer sat in the one on the right.

“Have a seat,” the regent said.

Blossom sat in the other chair. Anastasia pulled the teapot from the fire, filled the teacups, and placed the pot back on the fire. Blossom took her cup and sipped on it. Chamomile.

“Snickerdoodles?” she asked.

“Yes,” her aunt replied. Blossom took one and nibbled on it silently for a few moments.

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

“I still can.”

“But you haven’t.”

“I can’t.”

The fire crackled loudly.

“Regent DeSpain was a crooked man. I don’t regret exposing him. Removing him from power, and those who profited with him, was necessary for the health of the sector,” Anastasia said.

“What did that have to do with me and father?”

“As his daughter, you should understand how much he values loyalty and duty. If his leader was in danger, no matter how much he actually despised the man, Mason would still take bullets for him.”

“This all was a form of protection?”

“Would you prefer prison and execution?”

“Why did you have Lance…do…argh!”

“Laura, I could never apologize enough for what he did. I instructed him to recover some form of DNA from you. He chose how to do it. The smear campaign was badly handled.”

“You don’t say!” Blossom shot up, ready to throw a punch.

“The Lance on TV is also fabricated. Did you know that?”

“What?”

“The real Lance is doing time in Barghest. That is the penalty for sexual assault, isn’t it?”

“I…didn’t…” She deflated back into her chair. They sat in silence for a while longer.

“You have to expose my crimes,” Anastasia finally said.

“I don’t understand,” Blossom said.

“Mason is fully discredited, but he can live on as Nighthawk. In fact, I think in some ways he prefers it.” At that moment, the large gremlin crawled passed their windows. Shortly after, Nighthawk flew past with some kind of energy weapon in hand, cackling like madman.

“Point.”

“You also have an interest in bringing me down, and it is easy to disprove the false evidence implicating your ‘crimes.’ I brought down Regent DeSpain in the name of justice, and I still believe in that enough to know that I need to step down and leave the regency to someone capable of ruling with clean hands.”

Laura sighed.

“I just wanted my life back,” she said.

“I’m sorry. The old flower has long since withered, but you have already blossomed into a new one. Do this, and you can at least be free to pursue it with your team.”

“What will happen to you?” Laura asked.

“I will probably end up in a cell next to Lance. Either that or I can make my escape to Omega Phi. I hear they need hackers.”

An ear-piercing squeal came from outside.

“Ha ha! We have vanquished the beast!” Nightwing cried out.

“Well, there’s the key to unlock the evidence. Here’s the rest,” Anastasia said. She produced a small lockbox and handed it to Blossom.

“You are not merely the daughter of Mason Blackheart. You are Laura Blackheart, the Blossom of the Depths. My traps have harmed you, but you have lived and learned from them. Now, let us finish staining our family name so that we can reconcile and find peace.”

Anastasia got up, curtsied, and exited in a shower of sparkles. The room phased out and was replaced with a smaller, empty room covered in dust.

“Blossom! Blossom! Are you there?” Spencer called out. Redjack and Nightwing were busy chanting cheers and victory fanfares.

“I’m here. I have it. I have what we came for,” she said.

Over the next few years, the Prime Sector underwent several rounds of political upheaval until the government reformed around a new regent. Careful checks and balances were installed to ensure the validity of the government. Although Laura Blackheart was exonerated of her crimes in the public eye, she remained below the radar. Some believe they can see her entering a hole-in-the-wall cafe, but they are never sure if it’s actually her. Even her clients are not quite sure. The Blossom of the Depths guards her secrets well.

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #clothe the naked

[the-eeveekins]

The 14th Day of G-Witch: Envoys From Earth

Season 2 starts with a series of duels that aren't even close, but at least we got some unique mobile suit designs out of them. Maybe someday they'll show up on P-Bandai? I'm a little sad they we don't get to see what happened with Suletta & Miorine in the immediate aftermath of The Slap, but it always seemed likely they were very quickly separated afterwards, with little-to-no time to talk after Miorine called Suletta a murderer. But I also liked how the 2nd season starts out seemingly with a return to their normal safe school life, with classes and duels, and slowly tears it away as the episode progresses, telling the audience that the safety of the school is gone and it's not coming back.

This is also the start of El5n basically being not just a clown, but the entire circus. And when he's not being a creeper towards Suletta, I love him for it.

And thus begins the Delling Rembran Rehabilitation Arc (🤢). I always said that the smartest thing Delling did as a character was be a little nicer to Miorine and save her life before falling into a coma for a whole season, because suddenly a lot of people forgot what a dick he was. So much wasted potential too.

Everyone's favorite background lesbians, Maisie and Ireesha. They're adorable.

Casual reminder that since they've been separated Suletta has been tending to Miorine's greenhouse and messaging her everyday, just like she asked.

All the respect to Prospera's manipulation game. She knows exactly what she needs to say to each girl regarding what happened at Plant Quetta, and ultimately it helps push Miorine deeper into her schemes.

Sophie is here! While Suletta is definitely caught off guard at first, I love how excited and eager she is to try and fulfill the role of Sophie's onee-chan.

I love Sophie and my heart goes out to her. It always makes me happy to see her enjoy the Open Campus and get to enjoy the life she always wanted but was also denied to her.

You know what else I love about Sophie? Cockblocking El5n every time he tries to rizz Suletta. She's a good girl.

Also, have some 5Nore!

You know who is a good hero in this show? Suletta! Doesn't she look dashing rushing in to save Nika? And the way she easily picks her up and carries her out of harm's way? That's a sapphic woman's dream right there.

That said, Suletta is lucky Sophie likes her so much because there's no way this should work.

I love this shot of Prospera talking to Miorine. Chef's kiss. I'm not necessarily a fan of this shot down the Plant Quetta shaft (the 3rd time now?) Now that we know that this isn't Quiet Zero, and merely the parts to amplify the range of the Data Storm, the continued focus on this one object seems really strange. I'm not sure if it was always meant to be a decoy for the audience or there was a late change regarding the introduction of Quiet Zero.

Okay, so I've got to talk about Red:birthmark. This ending took my breath away the first time I watched it, I was just utterly captivated. While the song itself took a couple listens to grow on me, the visuals stood out to me immediately. The start with Suletta on a stage, just missing Miorine and interacting with Aerial, the absolutely striking colors in the middle as Suletta dances with the bits and her clones, and finally Suletta and Miorine dancing together while Aerial watches over them. Endings are usually pretty plain and pretty simple, but this one honestly puts a lot of openings to shame, and it's by far my favorite ED ever.

#25 days of g witch #g witch #the witch from mercury #gundam #g witch spoilers

[copperbadge]

hey sam! i don't want to dump a research question on you, but just in case this is your remit - do you have any apps or browser extensions or similar for adhd and studying? i know about screen tinting and white noise, but if there's anything out there (paid or not) that you recommend, please wax lyrical! i'm collecting a doc of links for study tools beyond pomodoro style apps!

Man, screen tinting and white noise is already well out ahead of me, Anon :D I never did either of those while studying. I can't deal with screen tinting, but I did eventually start using ASMR videos as white noise when I was in my thirties, when I was working. Lo-fi beat music (often designated FOR studying on youtube!) often helps. Other than that I'm afraid I don't have any tools to link to -- no apps, no programs, no sites. I simply don't use any for learning/studying. I have a lot of tools but they're for managing personal life and very finely-tuned to me, so it's stuff like using google sheets to keep my calendar, and using Tasks to manage my chores. It's not to say you can't or shouldn't use apps and extensions, it's just not something that existed when I was in college and not something I make use of now.

My work, while very focus-intensive and intellectual, and involving synthesizing a lot of data, is also very temporary -- the data arrives in my brain, is put to use, and then goes immediately back out again. I've actually trained myself to have no long-term memory for some things, which is probably a bad thing, but every job I've had since 2008 has involved remembering very specific data for somewhere between five minutes (answering phones, remembering names) and two days (building a profile of a donor).

My study techniques when I was in school were less about environment and more about structure -- how I built my lecture notes and how I transferred them to a method for study.

In class, I found it helpful to take notes on blank paper, unlined, so that I could draw pictures and diagrams and structure my notes in a less linear fashion than lined paper would have encouraged. I should dig some out and take some photos sometime. So I had this artist's 8x11 pad of paper with diagrams and outlines and paragraphs all over the place. (I also tried graph paper but didn't like that, too much visual interference.)

I would start reviewing my notes for the eventual exam pretty soon after taking them -- about a month after any given lecture I'd go back to my notes and start review, which sounds a little insane, but was for me super helpful. I would get a deck of 3x5 cards and start moving what I thought were the vital points from those month-old notes over to the 3x5 cards. I didn't use them as flashcards (except for Latin class), I just put notes on various cards when they seemed to go together, and I'd carry the cards around with me and take them out and read them over. It made them very portable! And it meant that I could study in small chunks across a long stretch of time, which probably was very ADHD-compatible because it meant I saw everything a lot and it became "background noise" in the sense that I retained it.

I did kind of have the classic "gifted child" habit of not studying much because I rarely needed to, and for me that fortunately did carry over into college and grad school. With a few exceptions, I didn't have to study much for my exams, and the index cards covered what I needed. The struggle that I had was writing papers -- the classic ADHD "can't get started, hyperfocus once I do". I did eventually figure out the pattern, and so what I'd do was just block out the weekend before the paper was due (often I set the due dates ahead of the real ones in my calendar) and sit down and do the whole-ass paper across about 18 hours. If I knew the time was blocked out for it ahead of time, then that would propel me into actually getting started, and I'd bang the thing out.

So yeah, a lot of my study techniques for living with ADHD, not that I knew I was, came down to stretching studying way out over several weeks to months, and compressing paper-writing into weekends.

But also like...IDK man, cut yourself a lot of slack, I was studying and writing papers before smartphones existed, before my undergrad campus had wifi. If I wanted to check my email, because I didn't have a computer freshman year, I had to go to the computer lab across campus. It made research harder, of course, but it stripped me of a lot of opportunities to goof off. And because my brain was never trained to expect instant digital gratification, I never had the urge to put my notes down and check my smartphone.

So, maybe there's that, too -- if you find that while studying you get distracted a whole bunch, it may be useful to do some digital "hygiene" -- train yourself to go stretches without checking your phone or your browser, starting small and moving up to five, ten, fifteen, sixty minutes. I can't say that will help everyone or even be possible for everyone, but I think it's something to try.

Readers with ADHD (including self-diagnosis), feel free to chime in with the ADHD-centric study tools you use! I'd like to ask that neurotypical people not share their techniques here, only because people with ADHD tend to get a lot of well-meaning advice that is unfortunately not super applicable to the neurodiverse, which can be really frustrating and depressing. And remember to comment or reblog, as I don't repost asks sent in response to other asks. Thanks everyone!

#sam has adhd #studying with adhd #neurodiverse education

[maple-apples]

i started playing dredge on Nov27 and finished yesterday Dec3. I also got the new DLC before did the final quest and did all of that. i love catching fish i love Dredge, I think I ended up with almost 28 hours played over the past 6 days

A pattern in some of the games i enjoy the most:

1wholesome at the surface, ie gameplay, with some darker undertones

2collecting creatures to fill out a compendium/encyclopedia of sorts

3somewhat “simple” graphics, clean or stylized may be a better word, when the visuals are too complex it makes it harder for me to process

My favorite games I feel this pattern(major spoilers btw)

Bugsnax, Subnautica, even Breathe of the Wild, and now Dredge

in Bugsnax you collect bugsnax to fill out your bugapedia, The surface gameplay being catching bugsnax, solving puzzles, exploring, giving your new friends bugsnax they want and being able to make funny looking characters with them, you also get your won hut to upgrade and decorate with trinkets from your friends. The darker undertone is you learn these snax are actually parasites, and the more you have fed your friends, the more vulnerable they are in the last battle to being overcome by bugsnax- your friends are troubled you have the option to help resolve their inner (and outer) conflicts but it is an option, and they can die without ever confronting their shortcomings.

In Subnautica you collect data on creatures by scanning them, sometimes while being actively attacked. On the surface/gameplay, you catch fish and explore the ocean/planet collecting resources to build your base and you can do some decorating, hatch eggs in an aquarium. The darker undertone is of course you crash landed, all your crewmates are dead, the rescue ship tried to save you and got shot down and died, youre infected with a bacteria and can not leave until you are cured, you discover this is actually a planet that has really suffered from this bacteria, the leviathan that could cure it is much too old and her eggs struggle to hatch.

In BoTW: i will admit, it fits a little less on multiple accounts but i can still fit it here so its staying- the compendium does not play as center stage as the other games, however you can still find and take pictures of all the creatures in the game. the surface gameplay is solving puzzles, helping strangers and old friends, taking in beautiful scenery. its dark undertone is ofc calamity ganon, not exaactly an undertone more of a looming overtone that you can ignore but its close enough.

In Dredge you’re a fisherman and you catch fish and fill out the encyclopedia, you also can catch all the aberrations of the fish. on the surface, you catch fish and do sidequests for all sorts of people, theres a dog to rescue too! the music and the water sounds are so calming(during the day) and you can upgrade your boat and unlock all sorts of rods, nets, engines and crab pots. The dark undertones are partially unknown ie how did the aberrations come to be this way? what the fuck IS that in the “bad” ending? and partially known, our playable character seems to have experienced some memory loss, on purpose. hes separated himself into fisherman and collector (and also old fisherman iirc?) to bring back his dead wife using dark magic, the lighthouse keeper is the only one who knows him and she is very old compared to our character, presumably also kept alive by dark magic. Our character apparently also had major cognitive dissonance about himself and the collector, he tells the lighthouse keeper he has the book, and she says hes had it the whole time. throughout the entire game the character is plagued by perils of the sea and his own hallucinations, the line between them is often hard to draw clearly. It is definitely true the perils are made worse if we are also hallucinating.

#bugsnax #dredge #subnautica #botw #video games #autism #maple soup #my