#maths i can wrangle one i think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jacks347 · 2 months

Text

Would the listeners survive a zombie apocalypse? (In my slightly sarcastic, completely subjective opinion)

Idk man, I'm bored and got time to kill in church so here we are

(Tagging this is going to be a nightmare-)

(Edit from the future: It was. It really was.)

Redacted:

For sake of my sanity this isn't all the listeners, just the ones I'm still actively keeping up with (I'll get to the others...eventually)

Angel - Solid maybe. Out of all the unempowereds, definitely has one of the highest chances. But it would take an extreme streak of luck.

Babe - No...I'm sorry but no. Would be like one of those extras that you see eaten in the first minute of a horror movie.

Sweetheart - Probably. Can a zombie detect someone invisible? Sweetheart is smart enough to survive, they'll be fine.

Darlin - Yes if they have Sam to hold them back from sacrificing themself for the "greater good". No if they're left completely to their own devices.

Lovely - Depends on the version. Pre Adam, no. Pre Inversion, maybe? Post Inversion, definitely. Hard to die to a zombie apocalypse when you're a) already dead and b) literally immortal.

Treasure - Okay, I know Treasure is the newest addition to the roster and we haven't had a lot of time to see their personality develop but as of now? Yeah...no.

Freelancer - They'll do it on -3 hours of sleep simply out of spite. Freelancer has been through enough, they're just tired. They'd survive but begrudgingly.

Honey - Honey would survive out of spite and spite alone. Would definitely have that baseball bat from The Walking Dead.

GBA:

Guardian - ...you're kidding, right?

Darling - Yeah...no. Soft bby would never.

Faithful - Possibly? That stubborn attitude and medical abilities would help but has absolutely no combat training so ehhhhh, it depends.

Paradise - If she can break a pirate crew out of space Fort Knox and wrangle Yargwynn, a zombie apocalypse is pocket change. Paradise would own an apocalypse.

Partner - I swear I'll stop bullying the new additions. Once they're worth not bullying. The man made the zombie apocalypse, I guess we're gonna find out if he survives won't we? I'm not hopeful though.

Escaped:

Asset - No one in ATW even knows how to do basic math, the only way any of them survive is through sheer force of which they might actually be successful. So maybe.

Raven - Yes but she would have a mental breakdown about it so she would not be the same on the other side.

Slash - ...seriously?

Guest - Hm, a trained vampire slayer in a zombie apocalypse, I wonder what would happen! Obviously she'd be fine.

Intern - Entirely dependent on who they're trying to keep alive. If it's just them, probably. If it's them and the rest of their merry band of misfits, no.

Future Wife - You're funny. RIP my girl, no one will know her husband broke the fuckin timeline for some pancakes.

Agent Schäfer - Once the shock and panic wore off, yeah she'd be fine. Hope she doesn't get eaten during that freeze.

("Where's Lass?" When Desmond returns for more than five minutes, come talk to me about listening to Blue Infinity)

Nomad:

Pack Mom - Definitely. We already know she's a deadly shot and wasn't afraid to shoot a living person, a dead one would be fine. She will be perfectly fine.

Lass - Yes. Not with as much overwhelming power as Pack Mom but she'd get through it. I mean...she has formal sword training, I think she'd do okay.

Little One - Probably not. Out of the original Frosthaven romances, they are the least likely to survive. They'd put up a good fight though.

Lamb - Yes and no. Physically, she'd be just fine. Mentally, I don't know if she could do it. Slipping back into that killer mindset might just drag her under.

Chester's mate - Probably not. Out of all the new Frosthaven romances, they're the most average. They'd try though.

Harlow's roommate - No. I love them but no. Not our slightly stupid boat captain.

Caltraxus' TA - Yes and they'd hate it every step of the way. Would survive completely hungover if that was an option.

The Doctor - Probably? If not by her own merit then definitely through someone else cause everyone needs a doctor in the apocalypse.

Beau's mate - Yes. Literally fought a bear once. She will be just fine.

(The lack of fandom names for Nomad's listeners saddens me greatly. And also makes my work so much harder)

This was so dumb but I had fun so :P

86 notes · View notes

waltwhitmansbeard · 6 months

Note

hi! i absolutely adore your CR drabble series on AO3. could you do a drabble where either yeza takes care of veth when she's overworking herself OR they both are tired and taking care of each other? I love any sort of domestic fluff. I know you don't usually write veth/yeza, so no worries if you decide not to write this one!

The baby is crying. There's smoke coming from the oven, thick and choking. The bell over the apothecary door downstairs jingles. In the storage room, somethings tips over, crashing to the stone floor. Yeza swears. The baby cries louder. The laundry has been sitting in its dirty water for two days.

Veth stands in the middle, eyes burning and mind buzzing. She doesn't know where to begin, which emergency to address first—the baby. The baby is crying.

She moves mechanically to his crib, scoops him up and does her best to wrangle his thrashing limbs. "Hey, my little button," she coos, half-delirious in her exhaustion. "There's no need to cry." Smoke continues to billow from the sides of the closed oven door. "Okay, we're about to suffocate to death, so maybe there is a need to cry."

She needs to address the smoke situation—baking bread for the first time is not the thing to try when there are a thousand other things going on, it turns out—but she doesn't want to bring Luc any closer. She's just about to call Yeza up to come take him when her husband's voice reaches her first. "VETH, A LITTLE HELP, PLEASE."

Yes, Veth thinks. I would love some. Better to bring the baby down, anyways; smoke rises. She scurries down the stairs, still failing to quiet Luc's squalls, and she's greeted by a line at the apothecary counter, four people with baskets that will take forever for Yeza to tally up. She was always better at math than he is. She slips beside him and passes him the baby. "Let me do this. You go put out the fire."

"Fire?" Yeza squeaks, but she shoos him off. She hasn't slept in two days, but somehow she adds up every order, takes the gold, pays back the coppers and silvers, until the line is gone and the smell of smoke is no longer so threatening. She slams the register closed, and Yeza appears at the top of the stairs, sans Luc. "Are we good?"

"We're good. I short-changed that human guy, he was being a dick." She slumps against the counter. "Is Luc okay?"

"Back asleep." Yeza comes down and begins massaging Veth's shoulders. She might just pass out right here, right now. "Veth, it looks like a war zone up there."

Just like that, she's wide awake and seething. "Yeah, well, I'm trying my fucking best—"

"No, no, no." He stops, spins her around, and takes her hands in his. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was I didn't know you needed help."

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course I need help, Yez. We have a baby and a home and we need to eat and as smart as you are, you can't do basic math."

"You're right, which is why I asked you for help. Maybe you could try it sometime?"

Okay, she gets his hint. "I just...you have a lot going on. With the store and your experiments. I love your alchemy, you know that."

"I do know that. I love it, too. I just love you and Luc more."

Veth leans forward so her head is tipped down onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm just...not used to having people I can count on."

His hand rubs up and down her back. "I know," he murmurs in her ear. "But you've got us now, and I'm never gonna let anything happen to you and Luc."

And she believes him, because Yeza is many things, but he is not a liar. She lets him hold her behind the counter of their store, beneath the floorboards of the home they made together, and she knows herself to be safe.

#ask #silverysongs #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #mighty nein #mighty nein fic #the brenattos #the brenattos fic #my fic

22 notes · View notes

hunxi-after-hours · 1 year

Text

danmei reading challenge 1.0

I had so much fun coming up with these discussion questions in this post that I thought I’d make a more streamlined post for folks to make it easier to track! it is however a very long post so I shall throw the discussion questions under the cut. here are the challenges:

read works by three (or more!) danmei authors

read two different danmei novels by the same author (if you can wrangle it, try to read novels in different genres)

read a danmei novel that is not wuxia, xianxia, or xuanhuan

read a danmei novel set in modern day China

read a webnovel that was not serialized on JJWXC

read a webnovel by a danmei author that is not danmei (e.g. 言情 / heterosexual romance, 无CP / no romance)

read a danmei novel with 2+ adaptations into other forms of media (e.g. audiodrama, donghua, manhua, live action)

read a danmei novel with no adaptations in other forms of media

read a traditionally published work of Chinese speculative fiction

read a novel written by a Chinese diaspora author

(also I did some math and if you read for maximum overlap you can do this challenge in just seven books ;)

read works by three (or more!) danmei authors

what recurring themes, character traits, narrative tropes, or cultural aspects to you observe across works by different authors? what differences do you notice? do you think these similarities/differences are hallmarks of the genre, coincidental stylistic choices, authorial interests, or wider cultural trends? how do different authors address certain issues, or avoid them altogether? how do these choices affect the content and style of the text, as well as your perception of and/or response to these texts?

read two different danmei novels by the same author (if you can wrangle it, try to read novels in different genres)

what recurring themes, character traits, narrative tropes, or thematic commonalities do you observe across an author’s works? how do the different narrative or genre contexts of each novel affect characters and themes in each work? do you observe changes in an author’s perspective, views, or opinions on common themes and/or social issues from novel to novel?

read a danmei novel that is not wuxia, xianxia, or xuanhuan

how do aspects of worldbuilding differ across genres? what new aspects of culture, character, or language do you observe in a different genre setting? how much character or worldbuilding do you think is attributable to genre convention, and how much isn’t? what do you think readers find attractive about wuxia/xianxia/xuanhuan settings? what do you think readers find attractive about other genres?

read a danmei novel set in modern day China

how do the emotional and narrative stakes of novels change depending on time period? what were you surprised by? what similarities or resonances did you recognize between the text and your own life? how does the fabric of the setting in this novel differ from novels set in other time periods and settings? in what ways do class and power factor into character conflicts and relationships? how do these differ from the way class and power are addressed in historical novels? what is the role of tradition and history in this novel? do you find the text more realistic because it’s set in modern day? why or why not? how important do you think “realism” is to the text and the readers? why might this be? how important is “realism” to your reading experience? why might this be?

read a webnovel that was not serialized on JJWXC

there are many other Chinese internet literature platforms, such as 长佩文学 and 奇点文学网. explore one (or more!) of these literature platforms and note any observations about differences, similarities, or things you’re surprised by. how does this inform your understanding of the larger scope of Chinese web literature? in what ways are literature and genre organized differently from what you’re familiar with? compare and contrast your experience reading a non-JJWXC novel with a JJWXC novel. what was the same? what was different? do you think these similarities/differences are influenced by the different audiences of these websites or larger societal trends in media and culture, or something else entirely?

read a webnovel by a danmei author that is not danmei (e.g. 言情 / heterosexual romance, 无CP / no romance)

what similarities do you observe between this novel and a danmei novel written by the same author? what differences do you observe? how do narrative reflections of gender and character dynamics differ? what other themes, issues, or narrative aspects do you notice coming to the forefront when the focus has shifted away from male/male romance? what were you surprised by? what weren’t you surprised by? has your perception of the author’s views on gender/gender dynamics changed? if so, how? if not, why do you think this is?

read a danmei novel with 2+ adaptations into other forms of media (e.g. audiodrama, donghua, manhua, live action)

what do you think about this novel generates wider media attention and interest? how do the characters and narrative change from text to adaptation? why do you think this happened? how did the popularization via adaptation affect the original text, if at all? how did you come to discover this text, and how many platforms did it have to jump to get to you? why do you think this text received attention on the platform you first heard of it? in what ways beyond the content of the text itself did this novel draw wider attention?

read a danmei novel with no adaptations in other forms of media

why do you think this novel hasn’t been chosen for adaptation yet? in what ways would this novel be challenging to adapt? what medium do you think this novel would be best suited for? how would an adaptation of this novel change your perspective and experience of this text? what would you hope to see in an adaptation of this novel?

read a traditionally published work of Chinese speculative fiction

how does a traditionally published work of Chinese fiction differ stylistically and narratively from the web literature you’ve read? what does the wider field of Chinese speculative fiction look like? how do the imaginations and concerns of Chinese authors manifest in their worldbuilding, setting, characters, themes, and conflicts? how do subgenres of Chinese speculative fiction resemble and differ from genres you’re more familiar with? what did you like about this work? what puts you off about this work? did this work raise any questions or themes that you haven’t thought about before? what aspects of the novel seem rooted in contemporary Chinese society, and which themes seem more universal? if reading in translation, did you identify any moments where context was lost between languages? were there footnotes in the translation, and if so, how did they affect your reading experience? if not, did you ever wish there were footnotes? what kind of additional context did you wish you had? how do you think the translation influenced your reading experience? how high-profile is this work of Chinese speculative fiction, and why do you think this is?

read a novel written by a Chinese diaspora author

how do characters, themes, settings, and worldbuilding differ from the perspective of a diaspora writer? what aspects feel the same? how does translation on linguistic, cultural, or metafictional levels factor into the text? what is the role of tradition and reception in the narrative? what other influences can you spot in the text? what Chinese work would you put this text in conversation with, and why? how are different cultures portrayed in diaspora works vs. non-diaspora works? based on this text, have cultural values shifted in diasporic reception? what is the relationship presented in the text between identity and nationhood, tradition and ownership?

#does 1.0 imply the existence of a 2.0? .......maybe!#I think as I read more widely more and more interesting questions and texts will come up #some of these were certainly challenges I posed to myself and felt deeply rewarded by #I'm 10+/10 but I did write these so that's not fair of me at all ahaha

79 notes · View notes

sunskate · 28 days

Note

Following the maths being done on FSU about Grand Prix spots for next season and I’m a bit concerned Hensen/Lickers are going to be screwed despite their awesome showing at Nationals. Ice dance is so competitive right now for spots and Bashynska/Beaumont and Fabbri/Ayer are out of the top 24 in both the World Standings and Seasons Best lists and therefore are not guaranteed a GP spot. If Skate Canada can’t wrangle a spot for either of them elsewhere (definitely possible that they can, but there are also a lot of teams and feds fighting for the same thing) then they’ll probably use their host spots to prioritize them over giving H/L a chance.

this season, Canada had 11 GP spots and sent 7 teams, with the top 3 teams plus L/LeG each getting 2 spots. B/B got a spot for being on the podium at Junior Worlds. Canada ended up being able to have both F/A and L/R at SCI

for 2024-25, the same top 3 teams are eligible for 2 spots each. L/LeG are guaranteed one but probably will get 2. we'll see if G/P and FBS choose to stay in for next season

i think we're going to see 6-7 Canadian teams at the GPs. at Nationals the result was: #3 Fabbri/Ayer #4 Hensen/Lickers #5 Lanaghan/Razgulajevs #6 Bashynska/Beaumont

but here's where the teams are ranked in World Standings: #32 Bashynska/Beaumont #47 Fabbri/Ayer #53 Gauthier/Thieren #57 Sales/Wamsteeker #92 Lanaghan/Razgulajevs #111 Hensen/Lickers

F/A and B/B are pretty sure to get a spot either elsewhere or at SCI. so i agree with you that Lily and Nathan are on the cusp - they're next in line, i think, over L/R - they're a rising team, and their Nats result was better. fingers crossed, prayer circle. i want to see their happy faces skating out to a GP crowd

#assignments usually come end of june #just before the new season

8 notes · View notes

wtowingedtragicobsidian · 4 months

Text

ADA Sigma Masterpost

General Design Notes and Headcanons (not limited to ADA design)

Gender: Nonbinary; goes by they/them (or other gender-neutral forms of address) but doesn’t really care what/how people refer to them

Build/body type: Androgynous, rectangular but delicate (think middle school boys before puberty sets in properly when they are just all arms and legs with little definition), drooped shoulders

Height: They are actually 5’6” (the heels give them 3 inches and then the hair even more, so they come across a lot taller than they really are)

Design Details (not necessarily limited to ADA design)

Ponytail and coat are sparkly on the underside (refence to original waistcoats design)

Delicate glasses, 3 links down the glasses chain there is a sigma (math symbol)

Bullet earrings (This is canon to me)

Fancy-ass tie tie to match hair parting

Tie clip they use to pull back their bangs on late nights

Has two guns in holsters on their back (lord knows they need them)

Waistcoat got shorter and has hardware on the ends

Sweater has thumbholes

Open flare pants with double buttons

Mid-calf stockings held up with sock garters

Coat is backless under caplet to allow easy access to firearms

Nails are painted a opalescent periwinkle, they match the little mother of pearl diamonds on the earrings/glasses chain

Diamond shaped face but with a youthful softness to it, delicate facial features

Straight shortish brows

Heavily lidded half-diamond shaped eyes the color of a pastel sunset (canon gave me too many color options so I chose them all)

Diamond shaped nose

Thin lips/small mouth perpetually in a slight pout

Dimond shaped catchlights in hair/eyes (can you tell I’m going hard on the diamond motif yet)

Due to their combination of facial features they either look sleepy or mildly exasperated most of the time (Ima Sigma resting-bitch-face truther and I cannot lie)

_---__-----_--__--___---_------------_--_--__---_----------____----_____

ADA Sigma

Position: Accountant/Archivist

Despite not being a field operative they often do research for cases. Their ability also makes them an obvious choice for field recon/intel gathering, made more appealing by them not being a well-known ADA operative and the personability they gained form running the sky casino (seriously they are one of the only people in the agency who has normal social skills). They are frequently dragged via nagging or trickery into these extra responsibilities by the rest of the cast(Dazai or Ranpo), much to their annoyance.

ADA Relationship Dynamics

Sigma<->Ranpo: friends, research cases together

Sigma->Ranpo: admires but that awe is often trumped by the mild annoyance at being dragged into cases, he forces them to hold their ground in difficult cases

Ranpo->Sigma: one of the first to support them joining the agency because he saw them as a valuable asset, also ended up valuing them as a friend, teases them and drags them into cases but will occasionally share his sweets with them(he cares about them)

Sigma->Fukazawa: deeply respects but doesn’t know how to interact with him yet (they are the awkward middle child who is quite but eager to live up to his expectations)

Fukazawa->Sigma: quite pleased to have adopted another child, knows they can get a bit overwhelmed but trusts they will do well (asks Kunikida to keep his eye on them for that reason), grants them access to his personal library because he knows they love to learn

Sigma->Yosano: healthy respect(fear),(at time of joining does not know Yosano’s ability saved their life, once they find this out they become extremely grateful and soften towards her a bit)

Yosano->Sigma: thinks they would make an excellent drinking buddy, trying to figure out how to make that happen without intimidating them more, (eventually finds out they view her ability in a non-gruesome light and feels extremely touched/flattered)

Sigma->Kunikida: appreciates the structure he provides to the agency (and sympathizes with his valiant attempts to wrangle Dazai) but finds him a bit overwhelming

Kunikida->Sigma: annoyed that Fukazawa picked up yet another stray but genuinely wants them to do well so looks out for them in his own high stung way, works with them on their firearm proficiency

Sigma->Tanizaki siblings: finds them nice, if a bit strange

Tanizaki->Sigma: treats them nicely because he knows the ADA is a weird bunch and it can be overwhelming to be the new guy, acts a as a bit of an anchor of normalcy in that way

Naomi->Sigma: interestingly does not bristle around them, finds them charming and wants to be their friend, does their nails

Sigma->Kenji: wonders what they did to be in the presence of someone so warm and wholesome(has yet to realize that are terrifying, when they do they are surprisingly unfrazzled and just take him to get some food, they've seen worse)

Kenji->Sigma: is just his usual kind self to them (completely oblivious of his sunshine effect absolutely baffling them nearly to tears every time meet)

Sigma->Kyouka: sees her like a small kitten with sharp claws, finds her cute/sweet but can be caught a little off-guard by her at times causing them to worry for either themselves of her, empathizes with her past and because of that wants her to experience joy so subtly watches of for her, they go and get crepes together

Kyouka->Sigma: not super close but knows they care about her, doesn’t think they need to (does not verbalize this, lest the crepe outings cease), thinks they are kind of naive and finds that amusing

Sigma<->Atsushi: friends, bond over a shared sense of protectiveness for Kyouka and annoyance at Dazai, like to confide (complain) to each other

Sigma->Atsushi: admires his tenacity, empathizes with his backstory, fascinated by the resilience of the goodness in his heart, grateful that he was one of the first to validate them joining the agency

Atsushi->Sigma: teaches them how to sass Dazai, first to pipe up and defend them when necessary, complains about Akutagawa to them

Sigma->Dazai: complex feelings, grateful for recommending them to the agency (and in doing so giving them a new purpose) but he still makes them a little uncomfortable, when they eventually realize Dazai’s thank you is genuine they do not know what to think (but it does ease at least some of the tension they feel around him), goes and complains to Atsushi about it to help process(Atsushi in his infinite wisdom (ability to see though some Dazai’s bullshit and meet it with disarming earnestness) of course is the one to suggest he might have been honest to begin with)

Dazai->Sigma: the other most common culprit for dragging them into cases, teases the shit outa them (does not know how to say sorry for what he played a part in putting them through, does not even realize that he probably should, some of the teasing is defiantly a manifestation from this subconscious dissonance), does however say thank you to them for what they did in Meursault, sees a little of himself in them in their search for something to care for/purpose to exist(does feel some sort of responsibility(maybe even care) towards them, but that’s a little too soft and genuine of an emotion for him to process so he just doesn’t)

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #sigma #bsd hcs #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs hcs

10 notes · View notes

notarealwelder · 8 months

Text

(Epistemic status: armchair)

What does one need to learn, in concrete-ish terms, to do math?

One can understand various structures and how they generally behave. This is useful! But answers the wrong question; that's what math currently is, not how to advance further. Statics of mathematical knowledge, stated bare, won't tell you how they were built, nor how to build something else you might want. (You might infer these yourself, but ideally you wouldn't need to.)

A necessary but insufficient skill is to understand proofs. Formal arguments are the diamond we build our castles from, and if you don't see the faults nor can check for faultlessness, you can't produce one and know it to work.

(I think math education is ~aware that this is a skill it needs to teach? I'm not sure it figured how to teach it deliberately, but might be uninformed.)

Another is filling in ~a broad gesture that claims to be a proof. (Including, on one hand, digging up, checking, and compiling all the references the claimant used without explanation; on the other, fixing all the punctuation and streamlining notation abuse; and finally, generating all by yourself the gaps of "uncomplicated derivations left to the reader to verify".)

(This, I stole from Tao, so at least many know this is a thing, & hopefully agree it's important. Is it taught? Not..explicitly, not by textbooks or lectures I've seen; except by fill-this-in exercises and examples of faulty notation and necessity to understand what's written. Which is a lot, come to think of it. Maybe this is taught; just, without naming or drawing attention to it? Orrrr in nonpublic settings like talks, discussions, or seminars. Hm.)

Third, knowing the tools of the trade, which are: proof tactics generally applicable in your domain of interest. Acquire an ε of breathing room. Count something in a couple different ways. Look for a contradictory descent. Bound an integral with no closed form with similar ones with closed forms. Taylor-expand and ignore small-enough terms. Use a dumb bound. Cut things into pieces and then use a dumb bound.

(I feel like these do not get enough attention — shouldn't there be dedicated chapters "how to prove 90% of analysis with 5 clever tricks" — but I can't say with a straight face that they aren't taught. Although again, would it kill people to say "first, we'll simplify by getting an ε of room"? You know you're doing this; I can kinda figure out you're doing this because I read Tao 5 years ago & also spent hours figuring the proof myself beforehand; what do you expect a random reader to get beside "magic happens, qed"?)

(3.5: there are some ~fully general proof tactics like "use induction" which are...probably taught satisfactorily. Could be taught better, maybe — wrangling the exact form of the theorem so it inducts well is not generally trivial! — but, ok, maybe in a specialized course for induction-heavy fields.)

For 4, I'll put not so much proof tactics as ~ways to take small steps from initial ignorance towards a complete argument. Produce some examples; produce some counterexamples (that violate premises ofc). Try to explain why the conclusion holds in the examples; does this generalize? Suppose the conclusion holds given some property generalized thus; can you invent an example without it? (Maybe the property follows from the premise; maybe it doesn't, but now you can assume it to be false for free; either way, simplification!) Having proven a special case, can you weaken its assumptions but not the conclusion? (What-are the steps of the special-case argument, what do they rely on? Can their supports be replaced with something else?)

(This feels silly / too-simple-to-work, but...for one, things that work are not stupid, and having a list of obvious ideas to try works everywhere else, so. For two, this often helps even if you have absolutely no idea how to approach the theorem. For three, apocryphally, that's how the entire research process works: you solve a tiny special case A, someone else solves a similar B, someone else generalizes a little to C, someone else adapts the tooling to XYZ.....)

---

(There are other things — writing actual papers, looking for useful cutting-edge research, collaboration, smth smth getting to a stable orbit — which I'm unqualified to comment on; I'll pretend these are not Doing Math per se, though really they deserve no less recognition and teaching than pure proof rotation.)

(Although Let It Be Said that writing good, accessible, readable papers is a decidedly undertaught competence.)

---

There are another 2 ?capabilities? of a ~working mathematician that come to mind. (Not being one, can't introspect on them or split them into practicable subskills, sadly.)

5 is kind of tools-of-the-trade writ large; an eagle's-eye view of a whole ~subject and tricks it uses way up the abstraction ladder from foundations; pieces and glue out of which to build high-level proof sketches the way simple full proofs can be built from standard proof-techniques.

As for the 6: where do definitions come from? Whence finite intersections and arbitrary unions of open sets? How does one define a measure without yet knowing what is a measure? Why topoi?

To ask a good question is to be halfway to an answer; a good structure will do most of the work for you, rendering confusing things obvious and demanding little in assumptions. Good structures come from somewhere, and no-one will tell you where*.

(Yes, yes, You Could Have Invented Spectral Sequences. Very fucking funny.)

(Maybe it's the same old thing, try to generalize, and when you've seen enough, you notice a generality no-one articulated before. Or perhaps you push and push your setting to be as general as it should be and you end up with schemes. Or possibly you grope blindly in the darkness of the unproven, build yourself a useful concept to orient with, and it sticks. Who knows! Ask me again if I invent something.)

#my math education issues let me show you them #math #posts #* blatant lie #at the very least there are histories about development of modern structures which are likely informative

13 notes · View notes

justsome-di · 1 year

Text

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 15

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Leo made sure he was punctual and on his best behavior. Damián had picked out a nice shirt for him to wear and begged him to keep it tidy. It was like Leo was still a child in Damián’s mind. Like he was sure Leo hadn’t matured past seven when he would try wrangling worms out of the mud while in his church clothes.

It could have been that Damián was nervous that Leo was going to make a heterosexual spectacle of himself. Leo could see the way Damián was almost holding his breath before he left the apartment. It was the classic “straight people are around” rigidity. Leo saw it often when Damián tucked a part of himself away when they left some bubble of safety Leo couldn’t see.

Leo considered asking Damián if he should stay away from the lecture, if it was best if he didn’t try to force himself in, but then Damián told him he was happy he was going. That maybe in the future, they could go to stuff like that together. There was no shortage of queer events in the city. When they both had the time, Damián had said fixing Leo’s collar, they should think about the next one to go to together.

Leo showed up 15 minutes before the lecture was set to start, waited patiently in the back of the lecture hall until Eve shuffled in, and found a seat with her in the middle of the audience.

He looked around the lecture hall. It was a sea of multi-colored hair cut short or grown long. Eve wasn’t the only one with an undercut, and she wasn’t the only one rocking an academic goth look—large black sweaters and Doc Martens were all over the place.

In the corner of the room, the guest was speaking to some faculty member Leo had seen a few times around campus.

“Who is this woman?” Leo asked.

“You didn’t look her up?” Eve asked, a bit of judgment in her voice. “Jo Sheryl?”

“I asked my brother, and he didn’t know, and that was the extent of my research.”

He should have put forth a little more effort, but he had thought if he knew everything about her, the lecture would be underwhelming. He didn’t want spoilers. If she had any great anecdotes, Leo wanted to hear them from her in person.

He also might have neglected to look her up in favor of working on grad school applications. He had finally sucked it up and applied to the out-of-state schools he had been looking at. Michigan had a well-respected, competitive applied math program, and Michigan wasn’t too terribly far away. It was cheaper than living in New York, too.

There were also programs in Connecticut and Massachusetts.

Leo submitted the applications when Damián was gone on a date with his new, weird client. It was the only way to distract himself when Damián had texted him to say he’d be out a little later than planned.

“Yeah, well, Damián is a little older than her target audience,” Eve said. “He probably hasn’t seen her stuff because’s a guy in his 30s.”

“Damián isn’t all that old.”

Wait.

What?

Leo turned in his seat, infuriatingly small for him. All the seats on campus felt like they were made for someone three inches shorter than him. Complaining about how his legs were cramped in the small space between him and the seat in front of him only got him eye-rolls from people who didn’t seem to realize that while being tall was nice, there was such a thing as being too tall.

“How do you know Damián?” Leo asked.

“He didn’t tell you?” Eve said it so easily. “We’re in a gay book club together. I saw him last night, and we connected the dots between you and me and him.”

“Oh, yeah, his book club.”

“I actually run it.”

“No shit.”

“And my brother is—well, he’s been hanging out with Damián. They’re doing a whole thing together.”

Was he maybe the person Damián had been planning a night with at the end of the month? Was Eve’s brother the guy Leo stewed over? Eve probably shouldn’t have been giving up so much information about Damián’s clients and appointments. Leo had always held that information close to his chest.

“Anyway,” Eve said. “Jo Sheryl wrote a graphic novel. It was called Stories from a True-to-Life Dyke. It’s about lesbians in college.”

“That’s all it’s about?”

“Obviously there’s a plot. There’s Minnie, this freshman, and it’s all about her coming to terms with her sexuality and falling in love with this cool dyke.”

“Is that an okay word to say?”

“What? Dyke?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay for me to say, and it’s how the character describes herself. But if you’re asking if you can use it, then no. You probably shouldn’t.”

“Okay. I wasn’t planning on using it, by the way. I just wanted to know what the status was. I know there’s other words, and I’m trying to keep on top of the list.”

“What, a slur list?” Eve gave him a curious look and shook her head. “You’re a funny ally.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“I know. I’m just saying. You’re funny about it.”

Leo wasn’t trying to be funny. He was trying really hard. If he was a better ally, if he understood things better, then maybe he could return to Damián with some of it and make up for some of what their family had done to him. If Leo could be on top of all the struggles and hot topics, then he wouldn’t have to worry about Damián feeling isolated.

“Being queer isn’t all about the words you can and can’t use,” Eve said.

“I know. I know. I just want to know about things.”

The president of the GSA walked to the podium and leaned into the microphone. Leo had never seen him before. He was a little guy with purple hair. And though the dye job was patchy and growing out with a few fingers of dark roots coming in, Leo thought he looked pretty cool.

Jo Sheryl also looked cool. She had a leather jacket and a men’s button-up top, and her hair was cut very short. Her unplucked eyebrows, the lack of make-up, and the way she held herself was all very masculine. Her hands were shoved in her pockets until she walked up to the podium. When she walked, she did it with purpose. Shoulders held square, chin high.

Leo was very familiar with butch women. He thought they were neat. He admired them on the subway like they were a piece of art. He took everything about every single one of them in.

But seeing Jo stand in front of the room, he felt something stir inside him. Like this was the first time he was actually seeing a butch lesbian for what she was. Beautiful, bold, and so wonderfully not quite one thing or another.

Leo leaned over and whispered, “Is part of being gay looking cool?” He meant it as a friendly joke, but he feared it came off as a serious question.

“Yes, it is,” Eve whispered back with a smug smile.

Jo Sheryl began speaking. Her voice was low. She rocked back and forth on her feet and waved her hand as she ran through notes and a slide show. The lecture hall was silent except for her baritone washing over the waves of seats.

She talked about how she first came up with the idea for her graphic novel and how it seemed to blow up overnight as she was posting it to her blog. The response to it had been overwhelming. With love for Minnie came long-awaited-for acceptance for herself. She had received the positivity she had been seeking for years and also provided it back in turn for those who needed to see themselves in comics.

It was a cycle, she emphasized. When queer people lifted each other up, they lifted themselves up. When queer artists and writers wrote for themselves, they wrote for others and vice versa. The importance of community was never so evident to Jo as it was in the comment section of her comics. Strangers on the internet, all across the country, had made her feel more comfortable in herself than she had felt in a long time.

She was hiding less and less of herself not just to her audience but to the people around her. Though she was out to her family, she hardly ever talked about dating women in front of them. She had straight friends who she knew accepted her but didn’t understand the deeper parts of the LGBT community—the finer details of the history, the ongoing struggles, the little things Jo had to see and cope with every day. With the success of her comic, she started speaking up. Started showing herself more and more, no longer fearing isolation if they decided that she was being “too much.” There was now a massive community to fall back on.

Leo had never thought about being queer in such a way before. It was just like being Latino. He liked seeing people like him succeed. It felt good. It felt like he was capable of also succeeding—and doing so without having to give up any part of himself.

For a while, after he started college, he didn’t speak a lot of Spanish outside of the apartment. If Damián slipped into it when they were out, Leo stubbornly only responded in English. Damián, equally stubborn, would only respond in Spanish until Leo realized that Damián wasn’t forcing it but was giving Leo permission.

And it wasn’t like there weren’t other people speaking Spanish in New York. Leo heard Spanish all the time.

But there were some spots—the organic food stores Damián sometimes took him to, the clothing stores in the less diverse neighborhoods—where Leo didn’t want white women side-eyeing him or white managers coming up to ask if he needed “help” with anything with a tight smile.

Leo already had it rough in those spots. His complexion was darker than Damián’s, and he was taller and built up a little stockier. He was young enough to be up to no good but old enough to threaten someone, somewhere. Speaking Spanish, even in a place like New York City where people really should have been used to hearing an ever-changing flow of languages, made Leo feel like he was making a spectacle of himself. He could tell when someone turned to look, when people shuffled away while keeping a close eye on them when he and Damián naturally switched between languages.

Damián always handled those moments well. He never stopped speaking that lovely combination of Spanish and English, flowing so easily between the two. And eventually, Leo, as he grew older by a few years, understood why he did it. There was no point in trying to hide that part of them. It came with pain, sure, but it was worse to keep Spanish to the “right” places. It was worse to play by the invisible boundaries other people had drawn for him.

Leo was sure that that must have been how Jo felt when she cut her hair short or when she started shopping in the men’s section. It had to have been hard and came with the fear that was unique to being unapologetically visible, but it must have felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. When she saw other women like herself, when women like her saw her, that would have been well worth it all.

Leo tried thinking about how Damián had to navigate the world being both gay and Latino and if he could only be visible in one direction or another at a time when Leo wasn’t looking.

There were questions after Jo’s lecture. Someone asked if she was going to continue her series. She said she had plans for one more volume and then she would move on to other projects. She had more confidence now to pursue other stories she had been too scared to tell.

She was asked about upcoming artist workshops she was hosting in the city, thoughts about a recent collaboration with a writer, and if she had any advice for other queer artists.

“The one thing I want to tell all queer artists,” Jo said, “is that a lot of people are going to tell you no. Publishers will turn you down. Readers will leave nasty comments around the internet. It will feel like you’re not doing anything right for anyone because everyone has something to complain about. A lot of straight people who are trying to help you will tell you to ‘tone down the gay stuff.’”

There was a wave of laughter. Leo laughed, too, to show support and that he understood that pressure to suppress an identity, to try to be a more tolerable version of yourself for others.

“But,” Jo continued, “you don’t have to listen to any of those people. There’s a whole new world out there online where you can share your work with people who are looking to read it. If everyone else is telling you no, you need to give yourself permission to tell yourself ‘yes.’ And I want everyone here, even if you’re not an artist, to be as authentic to yourself as you can be. Even if—and I know you’re all in college so this might be the case—even if you don’t really know who you are yet. Keep telling yourself that you’re allowed to exist in whatever way you’re happiest. The world deserves to know the real you.”

The room was filled with applause. Leo clapped the loudest out of everyone.

The president announced the questions were over, thanked everyone for attending, and thanked Jo for being their guest. What a way to end things! Leo felt inspired. He was going to go straight home and tell Damián all about Jo Sheryl and how much he had learned from her.

He was going to see every single guest the GSA had through the next semester.

“I think I get it,” Leo said after Jo stepped away for a book signing. “Being queer is like being Latino. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yup. Us marginalized groups have to stick together. And you know, True-to-Life Dyke has a Latina character. She’s not a major character for the first half, but she gets a bigger role in the second volume.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. And I have a hunch she’s going to have an even bigger part in the next volume.”

“That’s dope.”

Jo’s books were for sale at a collapsible table with a long line right outside the lecture hall, but Damián didn’t have the money to spend $40 on two graphic novels. He’d have to find them later. Maybe at the queer bookstore Damián went to. Maybe he’d tag along the next time Damián went, and they could bump into Eve together.

The president of the GSA spotted Eve and made his way up to her. She greeted him kindly and introduced him to Leo, who made sure to tell him that he was an ally. The president looked up at him with a smile and as he began asking if they were going to attend the next meeting, Leo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He left Eve to explain her hectic schedule and stepped away.

It was his mother. Great. It was like she always knew the absolute worst times to call.

“Hi, mom.”

“Leo, are you busy?”

“No, mom.”

“Good. I wanted to know when you’re visiting home. We haven’t seen you in months.”

Leo closed his eyes. He didn’t want to go “home” at all, but it was expected of him, and he felt like it was important to keep some peace between him and his parents.

“You don’t live that far away,” she said. “It shouldn’t be that hard to see us every once in a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Leo said. “I’ve been trying to get applications for grad school submitted before the end of the semester.”

“That’s why I want to see you. I want to know how it’s going. I can’t brag that you’re getting into all the top schools if you don’t tell me when you get accepted.”

“I haven’t heard back from anyone except SUNY.”

“You’ll get accepted to all of them.”

Leo laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Some of these programs are pretty competitive.”

“Talk to your father and I about it over brunch in a couple of weeks. How’s two Fridays from now?”

She always scheduled their meetings like they were business partners rather than family. He just knew that she was penciling him in between a hair appointment and some tea with her church friends.

“Uh. That’s fine. I have class at noon on Fridays, though.”

“We’ll make sure you make it to class.” There was a few seconds of silence. “Where are you right now? It’s very loud.”

“I’m at an author’s visit on campus.”

“That’s nice. I’ll let you know where we get reservations. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Tell dad I said hi.”

Fuck. He had to deal with this shit in person. But it’d be fine. He’d get it done and out of the way, and he wouldn’t have to see his parents again until Christmas. If he moved a little further away, he could probably go longer stretches of time without seeing them.

Sorry, no money for a plane ticket. No time to leave work and grad school projects. See you Easter, maybe!

Leo hung up and returned to Eve who was now alone and scrolling on her phone.

“I’m heading back to my brother’s apartment,” Eve said. “Unless you want to learn more about the GSA. I told Chase I’d indoctrinate you if you were interested.”

“Don’t you mean recruit?”

“No, it’s an inside joke.” Eve shoved her phone into her pocket. “Want some flyers?”

“Sure. Yeah. Definitely.”

And so he left with Eve, hands full of flyers and a calendar of events and his phone buzzing again from his mother telling him that she had already made a reservation. When Damián asked him later how it was, Leo lied through his teeth and said it was great. He had had a great day.

#nobody ends up dead #nobody ends up dead in a bathtub everyone keeps their organs #writeblr #writblr #writing community #original work #original works #original fiction #queer fiction #queer romance #mm romance

17 notes · View notes

courtingchaos · 6 months

Text

I am staring down the barrel of 35. It’s a loaded gun but there’s no finger on the trigger yet. It inches closer every year but turning 33 means I can feel it pressed into the bridge of my nose. Cold but warming to my touch.

I don’t know what to do about it because I never thought this far, at least not realistically. Objectively I’d have had a degree in fine arts and I would be story boarding my own show right now. I would have toiled away in Orlando or Anaheim at a Disney studio until I’d had my million dollar idea and I’d be making my own Steven Universe or Over the Garden Wall. Being weird and artsy would have paid off and I would have made friends in the right places and I would have been able to show everyone that I did know what I was talking about, thankyouverymuch.

I went to school. 4 times actually. First time for art and I failed out of two math classes. Second time for English and I failed out of one of those math classes again. Third time was the charm I thought and I ended up not going back to my culinary class because they got rid of my chef. Fourth time was for carpentry and I got sick of listening to old men tell me what I was going to have to put up with on sites so I didn’t go back when the semester ended. I don’t think I’m built for school, the thought of it terrifies my little mammal brain. The only time I ever wanted to pursue anything I was told I’d be a starving artist and I let any of the threads of talent unravel.

My whole life my parents have always told me that they support me. I’m an only child who’s always been a homebody so they never had anything to worry about. I didn’t sneak out, I didn’t party, I didn’t date anyone until I was 16. They’re proud of me but every time I’m home I’m asked when I’m going back to school. When I’m quitting my job that I hate. When I’m having a kid. A lot of questions from people who have given me, in writing and words, their pride.

In my daydreams at 15 I’d said I wouldn’t get married until I had a degree and I wouldn’t have kids until I had a career, until I was stable in some way. It’s fun getting to your thirties and finding out your mentally unwell and then all the pieces fall into place. A lot of what ifs and could have beens if my brain worked correctly. I think a lot about things I wished I’d done when I was younger and I realize I never could have done these things because it was just never in the cards. People talk about a squandered youth when they mention parties and friends, trips for nothing other than to drive somewhere for the day and I want to cry.

I have a squandered youth and she’s holding the barrel to my nose for all my regrets. I’ve been angry my whole life and I’ve never found peace with it. It’s never carved a home out in my chest to lay in, to rest in. It paces tirelessly through my ribs and makes my chest ache. It blurs my vision and makes my thoughts run quick while it hangs like a ghoul in the background of my life. I joke that I do all things out of spite but it’s not a joke anymore. I spitefully get out of bed every day. I spitefully do my job well. I spitefully try to curate my hobby and hone my craft. I spitefully keep friends in my life to prove to myself that I’m not as miserable as the girl holding the gun to my face likes to make me think I am.

I am tired and I am unfulfilled. My life feels too small for my body, or maybe my body is too big for my life. I feel like Alice growing out of her home, arms pushed through windows and legs out the front door. I keep growing in weird spots and no one knows how to help me least of all myself.

All things through spite though. I’ll break out of the house and I’ll slap the gun away. I’ll wrangle my youth into a bear hug and when she least expects it I’ll put her in a headlock and we can start this whole game again when 40 is coming down the line.

#talking into the void #I say ignore this #just like #you don’t have to interact #I’m getting some things off my chest and putting it here out in the open in front of god and everybody just feels better #normally this time of year makes me feel better #but this year has kicked my ass from Maryland to Florida and back #There and Back Again a Barista story

5 notes · View notes

scumtrout · 1 year

Text

Anyway time to stare off into space and think about the age-old problem of choosing autonomy + uncertainty vs choosing dependence + stability.

Autonomy + unpredictability always seems very glamorous until/unless you're cold and hungry.

The one thing I've learned though is that 'autonomy + unpredictability vs dependence + stability' can be a spectrum, not a binary, even though a lot of the media I've consumed (e.g. going back to Nausicaa and Bastion...) frames it as a binary because that's more dramatically interesting. (Do you put all your money on the red or the black?)

Like, one of the most basic bog standard bits of advice regarding investing is that you have a mix of high-risk and low-risk investments. (No, you don't just put all your money on the red.) Similarly, when possible, life can be wrangled so that some areas allow high uncertainty + unpredictability while others provide stability and all the bennies which go with that.

The first constraint isn't 'I have to pick A or B', but anything in your life that's a finite resource (time, energy, money...).

Finite resources can be divided into smaller units (e.g. even if your schedule is packed, you can still find 10 minutes in the day to practice a language), so the second constraint is that some activities incur a base cost of time/energy/money that can be a barrier to entry. (I can find 10 minutes in a day to practice a language, but that won't be sufficient for me to find work as a translator in a span of 2 years.) So then you have to sit down and do the math and figure how much of Resource X you need for Goal Y, and I don't know where I'm going with this post but the problem of 'autonomy + uncertainty vs choosing dependence + stability' honestly just seems like a question of.... fucking accounting.

10 notes · View notes

nopoodles · 1 year

Text

I'm mostly running this on Instagram but if anyone is interested I'm channelling my inner basic-2010s-YouTube-vibes and running a read with me of Merry Arlan: Breaking The Curse in the lead up to the release of Merry Arlan: Finding The Heir (on 14th March).

If you want to join it'll be on @nopoodles on Instagram or, if you despise all things Instagram, give me a shout out here and I'll see what I can wrangle.

Either way, I'm also open to questions about the Guardian Cadet Series and I hope you'll come though this experience with me.

(if you need to buy copies the links are in my pinned post because Tumblr eats links)

The reading dates are under the cut

The first third (up to chapter 10 by 1st March, 95 pages, approx 1h30 total reading spread over 6 days)

Friday 24th Feb - Chapters 1-2 (23 pages)

Saturday 25th Feb - Chapter 3 (18 pages)

Sunday 26th Feb - Chapters 4-5 (10 pages)

Monday 27th Feb - Chapters 6-8 (18 pages)

Tuesday 28th Feb - Chapter 9 (11 pages)

Wednesday 1st March - Chapter 10 (15 pages)

The second Third (chapters 11-21 by 7th March, 100 pages, approx 1h40 spread over 6 days)

Thursday 2nd March - Chapters 11-12 (18 pages)

Friday 3rd March - Chapters 13-14 (22 pages)

Saturday 4th March - Chapters 15-16 (18 pages)

Sunday 5th March - Chapters 17-18 (20 pages)

Monday 6th March - Chapter 19 (11 pages)

Tuesday 7th March - Chapters 20-21 (14 pages)

And the final third (chapters 22-38 by 13th March, 113 pages, just under 2 hours reading time spread over 6 days)

Wednesday 8th March - Chapters 22-24 (23 pages)

Thursday 9th March - Chapters 25-29 (26 pages)

Friday 10th March - Chapters 30-33 (27 pages)

Saturday 11th March - Chapter 34 (10 pages)

Sunday 12 March - Chapters 35-36 (12 pages)

Monday 13th March - Chapters 37-38 (12 pages)

And on Tuesday 14th March Merry Arlan: Finding The Heir comes out and you can jump right in.

Does my maths check out for reading times? Idk, when I was in 6th form I was told an average person could read an A5 page of text in a minute so I'm working with that. If it was an audiobook (which I don't have yet) it would take about 7 hours to listen to as normal speed and this comes in slightly under, as I would expect for not reading it aloud. But I can't say for sure one way or another because I read at literally half the speed of the average person soooo... The goal was less than 30 minutes a day and I think I managed that.

[id: lower 3 images are blue, black, and grey graphics with the suggested reading dates on them]

2 notes · View notes

iloveyouphillipmorris · 1 year

Text

CW: weight/ed/drugs/abuse/everything

everything feels horrible. my friends get gifts and trees and family gatherings and certainty, even certainty of negative things. and i end up completed detached, lingering around, becoming more and more soulless, thee only certainty is loneliness from deep affection and real tender care. it isn’t there.

just locked up in a bathroom again crying in silence with thee shower head on so ely doesn’t hear me. that’s all this is. i need to move away from red cuz i can’t handle it. i feel heavy with tears and mourning. and hollow. air passes through me. i thought i could do it; i thought that V or M or whoever could be thee ones i could fight for and keep and really love and nurture. i was fooled into thinking cierra or rick or ely or natalie ever cared about me and they didn’t. ten years gone. the colour red was my favourite for years. it was V’s and M’s, too, and one ov jordan’s and red’s favourite colour. i grew up and it became that hazy dream like grey blue. since then i have not been able to harness and keep love for me stable. i was a perfect child. i can’t read numbers and until i started trying to kill myswlf i still got 80s-90s in my math classes. i never scored below a 95 in english, history, art, art history, and i used to play basketball excellently and i road bikes and i raced. i ran whenever i found an excuse to. and still i was locked in thee bathroom or my nose shoved into thee wall. it just didn’t matter. and iv become thee vessel for that awareness ov meaningless. my grandfather told me he will always “love the memory of who you were growing up,” in response to me asking him if he hated me for my queerness and me and my uncle sat in stiff silence til i put on female trouble, and we laughed together, my uncle and i, because what else are you supposed to when you were born to die. when i was in middle and highschool no one would give me their connection to a smack dealer despite thee fact they had them. so i drank and took handfuls ovv valium n codeine n xanax n i dreamt thee effects were thee same. i’m 5’7” and i weighed almost 90lbs when thee pandemic started bcoz i forgot to exist and was just a wretched pillar of self absorption and narcissism, and fickle and cruel. it wasn’t til i saw M reveling in their beauty in a mirror like a thing outtuv dorian grey. surely they would die there if thee world is right but it isn’t. i was so consumed with emotions that i became real again, and felt a flood ov anger + naturally, jealousy, for their ability to like what they see. and so i stopped caring and i began cooking more. what i want right now: to shoot up, tune out, and fade away. but i don’t have that luxury. i cannot remember a time ov prolonged happiness that did not come with a warning sign that i may be dangerous to myself and those around me. i have loved so intensely and also torn so violently. i am thick with remorse and guilt for being, my good actions and deeds tracked by a shadow ov shame and guilt not for my actions or words but for thee fact that i am thee one saying them and you have to be subjected to me. i dream ov total isolation in san ignacio, where i can sweat bullets and liquor, and die ov alcohol poisoning or heat exhaustion. if you asked me, i would take 5 dollars to thee amtrak and i’d go see V herself on her helpless doorstep and wrangle some truth outtuv her. i cannot identify a loving hand. i am melodramatic and i am selfish and i am nihilistic in thee face ov mt denial [bcoz to be nihilistic would be an admittance ov failure, but there comes a time for everything, isn’t there?] i have not replied to any texts and i haven’t seen my brother in days. i’m reaching out and tugging on electrical wires that strike me. if you asked me i would ask you to dose me and tell me iv been spoken to. lock me hand in hand with someone just as destructive and let us die together; or dose me and let me die. i could tell you still. i don’t know. “this won’t hurt a bit.”

1 note · View note

aquaticsoul · 3 months

Text

Wanted

Terälehti shows up at Sielu and Sydän's doorstep looking quite a bit worse for wear.

CWs: Abuse, blood, violence, parental issues

He's working on homework across from Sydän when there's a knock at the door.

It's the same knock he's grown familiar with, familiar enough to know exactly who's standing outside.

"I got it," he mumbles, eager to put his pencil down to do literally anything else except for his stupid math.

Terälehti's way more fun to talk to, and the conversation he knows he'll get to make will certainly be more stimulating than numbers he can't make sense of. Worse yet, the bastards have started to include letters... which should be a crime, but it's not.

It takes only a moment for him to get to the door and pull it open. He's greeted by Terälehti as expected, but the sight still freezes him for a moment nonetheless.

There's a rag held up to the other boy's face by a trembling arm, the other supporting his weight against the outer doorframe. The rag isn't doing much at all to stop the blood seeping through it and trailing downward, creating a track through pale fingers that winds down his wrist. Sielu's half certain the rag is supposed to be a placeholder for the mask the boy doesn't have at the moment more than it's supposed to do much to help, but he doesn't mention it.

"What happened?!" he exclaims. "What -"

"Sorry," Terälehti responds. He doesn't move from where he's bracing himself. "I - I tried to go to Lento's. No one home."

"Well come in here! Where is the blood coming from? What happened?"

"I think... she's still at school."

"Does he have another concussion?" Sydän asks. He can hear her put her own pencil down to join them. At least a good breath from her will help.

"I don't know. Move the rag, Vihr," he instructs. Seconds pass without movement.

How did he even get here like this?

"Help me bring him inside," Sydän says. He nods, going outside to put his shoulders under the arm gripping the doorframe. There's immediately weight dropped onto his shoulders - good. They can work with this.

Sydän helps guide him to the kitchen. It's hard not to notice how he's stumbling and how it's far too easy for her to pull the rag away from his face once he's half-wrangled into a chair.

He'd normally argue against that, but instead he just stares ahead half-dazed even as she blows Mist straight into his face. Definitely another concussion.

"Breathe in deep for me," he and Sydän say at the same time.

Terälehti barely follows the instruction, but the intake of purple Mist works regardless to slowly pull the edges of the gash to a not-quite-clean close and put a little bit of life back into his face.

After some time and closer inspection, he can see that the cause of the blood is a wound that runs up from his jawline to his cheekbone. The concussion is a different story without a clear blow to the head.

"Who did this to you?" Sydän questions, already turning to get a glass of water.

"... My dad," he admits, not meeting Sielu's eyes. He still looks a little out of it, sluggish - "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... to."

"It's okay. Just sit tight. We'll get you cleaned up," Sydän replies.

It feels a little less like a 'we' situation than it usually does. There isn't much he can do given his Mist only slows, but it's not the time to worry about it.

Not when he can feel Terälehti sink against him from where he's kneeling.

For a second, he thinks that means his friend's gone and passed out. Only for a second, though, as the taller boy's chest heaves with a sob. And another.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I'm sorry. I don't want to go home anymore. I'm sorry I'm always here. I just don't want to go home."

Each cry chips at his heart a little more. Each broken apology, each sob, each repeated explanation - all combine in a shrill symphony playing out of tune and out of time.

"Shh... shh, Vihr, shh. It's okay. Everything's okay," Sielu assures.

It's not okay. Not even the slightest bit.

"You know you're welcome here," Sydän adds, dropping next to his other side. "You're always welcome here. We aren't upset with you."

"But your parents-"

"- also care about you," he interrupts. "They wouldn't wanna send you somewhere unsafe. They wouldn't want you to go home if they knew how bad it is. No one here is mad at you."

"No one wanted me, Sielu! My own parents don't want me!"

It's the loudest he's ever heard the other boy. It's also the most he's ever heard someone's voice crack like glass.

"They didn't want me!" Terälehti cries. There's a pause as he drags in a shaky breath, sobbing on his next statement. "How can I- how can I ask someone else to?"

"They're-"

He doesn't get the chance to finish an attempt at soothing before the front door opens again.

That action makes the cry crescendo into a near-scream as if Terälehti's just been shot with an arrow. Sielu isn't sure whether it's fear or whatever grief the other's clearly been holding in his whole life.

"What happened in here?" Mother asks, joining them to crouch in front of the weeping boy who's barely even still in the chair, held up only by two sets of arms. There's softness and worry in violet eyes, both her hands extended outwards in case Terälehti falls forward instead of the side. He doesn't look at her.

"He has a concussion again," Sydän replies.

"All we got out of him is that it's his dad's fault," Sielu adds.

"No," comes a sobbed protest. "No. No. It's fine. Everything's... everything's fine. I'll get up in a minute and go-"

"You don't need to go," she says. "You need to sit and recover, sweetheart."

"I'm bothering you. I'm here too much."

"No, Terälehti. You aren't bothering anyone, I promise. And if it was your father, I don't think it's very safe to go home, but we can figure that part out when you've had some water and time to calm down."

"I can handle it," he argues.

"Vihreä. You're twelve years old. You do not need to handle this, okay? You can stay here. As long as you like," she replies. "Let's get you cleaned up and comfortable, okay?"

A moment passes, the cries quieting into distressed sniffles. "Okay. I'm... I'm so sorry."

"It's no trouble. We love you. All four of us."

#arc ; sing dear bird (misterica)#r ; kindness is worth more than gold [ terälehti ]#abuse tw #violence tw #blood tw #[[ i'll put the rest of my new tags on here shortly ]]

1 note · View note