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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

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Homebrew Mechanic: Meaningful Research

Being careful about when you deliver information to your party is one of the most difficult challenges a dungeonmaster may face, a balancing act that we constantly have to tweak as it affects the pacing of our campaigns.

That said, unlike a novel or movie or videogame where the writers can carefully mete out exposition at just the right time, we dungeonmasters have to deal with the fact that at any time (though usually not without prompting) our players are going to want answers about what's ACTUALLY going on, and they're going to take steps to find out.

To that end I'm going to offer up a few solutions to a problem I've seen pop up time and time again, where the heroes have gone to all the trouble to get themselves into a great repository of knowledge and end up rolling what seems like endless knowledge checks to find out what they probably already know. This has been largely inspired by my own experience but may have been influenced by watching what felt like several episodes worth of the critical role gang hitting the books and getting nothing in return.

I've got a whole write up on loredumps, and the best way to dripfeed information to the party, but this post is specifically for the point where a party has gained access to a supposed repository of lore and are then left twiddling their thumbs while the dm decides how much of the metaplot they're going to parcel out.

When the party gets to the library you need to ask yourself: Is the information there to be found?

No, I don't want them to know yet: Welcome them into the library and then save everyone some time by saying that after a few days of searching it’s become obvious the answers they seek aren’t here. Most vitally, you then either need to give them a new lead on where the information might be found, or present the development of another plot thread (new or old) so they can jump on something else without losing momentum.

No, I want them to have to work for it: your players have suddenly given you a free “insert plothook here” opportunity. Send them in whichever direction you like, so long as they have to overcome great challenge to get there. This is technically just kicking the can down the road, but you can use that time to have important plot/character beats happen.

Yes, but I don’t want to give away the whole picture just yet: The great thing about libraries is that they’re full of books, which are written by people, who are famously bad at keeping their facts straight. Today we live in a world of objective or at least peer reviewed information but the facts in any texts your party are going to stumble across are going to be distorted by bias. This gives you the chance to give them the awnsers they want mixed in with a bunch of red herrings and misdirections. ( See the section below for ideas)

Yes, they just need to dig for it: This is the option to pick if you're willing to give your party information upfront while at the same time making it SEEM like they're overcoming the odds . Consider having an encounter, or using my minigame system to represent their efforts at looking for needles in the lithographic haystack. Failure at this system results in one of the previous two options ( mixed information, or the need to go elsewhere), where as success gets them the info dump they so clearly crave.

The Art of obscuring knowledge AKA Plato’s allegory of the cave, but in reverse

One of the handiest tools in learning to deliver the right information at the right time is a sort of “slow release exposition” where you wrap a fragment lore the party vitally needs to know in a coating of irrelevant information, which forces them to conjecture on possibilities and draw their own conclusions. Once they have two or more pieces on the same subject they can begin to compare and contrast, forming an understanding that is merely the shadow of the truth but strong enough to operate off of.

As someone who majored in history let me share some of my favourite ways I’ve had to dig for information, in the hopes that you’ll be able to use it to function your players.

A highly personal record in the relevant information is interpreted through a personal lens to the point where they can only see the information in question

Important information cameos in the background of an unrelated historical account

The information can only be inferred from dry as hell accounts or census information. Cross reference with accounts of major historical events to get a better picture, but everything we need to know has been flattened into datapoints useful to the bureaucracy and needs to be re-extrapolated.

The original work was lost, and we only have this work alluding to it. Bonus points if the existent work is notably parodying the original, or is an attempt to discredit it.

Part of a larger chain of correspondence, referring to something the writers both experienced first hand and so had no reason to describe in detail.

The storage medium (scroll, tablet, arcane data crystal) is damaged in some way, leading to only bits of information being known.

Original witnesses Didn’t have the words to describe the thing or events in question and so used references from their own environment and culture. Alternatively, they had specific words but those have been bastardized by rough translations.

Tremendously based towards a historical figure/ideology/religion to the point that all facts in the piece are questionable. Bonus points if its part of a treatise on an observably untrue fact IE the flatness of earth

#homebrew mechanic #d&d mechanics #research #tableskills #tabletop inspiration #dm tip #dm advice #exposition

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csuitebitches · 1 year

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How To Make Full Use of Networking Events

Networking events and conferences are great because you get to meet and learn from experts but also connect with peers. I recently attended one and I wanted to share things I wish I had done before and what I learned.

1. Define an Objective

You have to determine why exactly you want to go to the event. Are you looking for a career change? A job? Advice on how to be better at your current job? How to tackle some issues in your start up? Networking? Make a list of the reasons.

2. Research

You need to research the speakers extensively. Go over their Wikipedias, LinkedIns and other social medias. Read their company websites from top to bottom. If they’ve released a book, take a look at the summary and read the reviews. Read some of their published articles.

Take this time to prepare at least 3 questions per speaker. Try to make at unique and interesting as possible, don’t ask the usual generic ones.

3. Business Cards

Definitely carry business cards. Make sure that your email, LinkedIn is mentioned clearly. Even if you work at a different company, that doesn’t matter- show your job title on the business card. Better yet, ask your HR if they can give you business cards as you would be promoting their company through your event. If you’re a student, I’d recommend you make a portfolio website of your internships/ project/ past work/ volunteer work/ hobbies/ interests.

4. Actually Talking

During the event, don’t be shy to ask questions. It doesn’t matter whether the rest of the audience thinks they’re stupid. You have spent your money to come there for your gain. Make full use of it. Ask questions. Meet the speaker after the event. Thank them for the insight, introduce yourself, ask them questions related to your objective of coming to the conference. Exchange business cards.

5. Utilising Coffee Breaks

Coffee and lunch breaks are a great way to talk to people. You may feel shy or awkward to talk to new people, but there’s very high chances that they feel the same way. You can start off by asking someone how they heard about the event, what they thought of the speaker, or pass a remark on the question they asked the speaker. Keep in mind that if the event has multiple speakers, there could be a chance that you’re talking to a speaker, even if you don’t recognise them… so be on your best behaviour.

6. Questions

Ask questions that are beneficial to you. During my conference, we had a women-leaders panel. An audience member asked the speakers how they divided their work between family and work. The speakers looked visibly annoyed at the question - because how generic is that?

Ask questions that could help you grow. If you’re in marketing, ask about their tried and tested marketing strategies. If you’re an early stage founder, ask them how they sourced their VC. If you’re struggling with time management, ask the speakers how they manage. Ask the questions for YOUR own benefit.

You can ask difficult questions but make sure you do it respectfully and tactfully. Best to start with a compliment and then ease into the question.

7. Dressing

Business casual, unless mentioned otherwise. What this means: blazer/ jackets/ trousers/ pencil skirts/ shirt/ co-ord sets/ no sneakers.

It doesn’t matter what other people wear. The way you present yourself is your brand. It also shows the respect you have for the other person - you respect them enough to not come shabbily dressed.

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sophieinwonderland · 5 days

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Here's Ableist AspenFrostEN Trying To Pack as Much Misinformation and Ableism As She Can Into One Minute:

This sentence is, perhaps, the one and only true thing in this entire video.

Oh, please do enlighten me, Aspen!

I mean, sure, created systems are a thing. Tulpas are the main example of this and the ones that have been studied the most. But there are created systems that aren't tulpas, such as in daemonism.

Also, plenty of traumagenic DID systems have intentionally created alters too, so it's weird to make "people who believe that you can force yourself to have alters" an endogenic system thing.

ALSO, basically no tulpagenic system I know actually uses the word "alter" to describe their headmates.

While most endogenic systems are plural without a disorder, it's bizarre to use this as your definition instead of just "an endogenic systems is plural without trauma" as it's actually defined.

Founded entirely on Tumblr???

Aspen, dear...

Are you... capable of reading? Here's the paragraphs you're looking at. Notice how it says natural system predated the word endogenic?

Yes, the word endogenic was first used on Tumblr... as a replacement of "natural system" or "natural multiple" that dated back to the 90s, before you were even born!

Here's one site mentioning natural multiples in their glossary in 2003:

And here's the origin in a page dated for 1998:

You clearly know NOTHING about the plural history that you're rambling on about.

And how am I only 20 second into this???

What do you consider a medical consensus again?

The World Health Organization's ICD-11, the diagnostic handbook used around the world, explicitly states that you can experience multiple "distinct personality states," the characterizing feature of DID according to it, without having a mental disorder:

That's the World Health Organization's official handbook!!!

I'm not sure what more of a consensus you need.

But I'll add that Tulpamancy is acknowledged as a real psychological phenomenon by Dr. Samuel Veissiere, psychiatry professor at McGill University.

And Dr Eric Yarbough, Distinguished Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association has stated that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder in a book reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

And these claims are undisputed. There is no peer reviewed paper by any psychiatrist that has claimed you need trauma or a mental disorder to be plural.

Now, onto the next round of misinformation!

I recognize that page! That's DID-research! A glorified blog that convinced an entire generation that OSDD-1a and OSDD-1b were actual medical terms for disorders they could be diagnosed with!

(Spoiler: The aren't!)

Is that so?

It would probably be really inconvenient for this narrative if the creators of the theory of structural dissociation ALSO have said it may be possible people to form self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality without trauma, huh?

I mean, something like that would just completely destroy everything you're trying to sell and make you look even more like a hack who has no idea what she's talking about, wouldn't it?

...

This paper is by two of the authors of the Haunted Self, which I probably shouldn't need to tell you since you're so knowledgeable about plurality, is the book that created the theory of structural dissociation of the personality.

Even the creators of the theory you're citing are saying plurality could have other causes.

Wouldn't that require you to actually know what endogenic systems actually believe? Or, you know, literally anything about plural history? Or anything at all? 🤔

Now we're back to ableist Aspen having no idea what Schizophrenia is and using it as an insult. 🙄

Aspen is not hiding her intent. Her goal is to spread hate, to come into our communities and bully us.

Aspen is a liar, a bully and an abuser.

But I hope I've also demonstrated pretty thoroughly that on top of that, she also incredibly ignorant.

She's ignorant of psychiatry. She's ignorant of plural history.

Every word out of her mouth on this topic is a lie she made up, and hopes her followers will be gullible enough to swallow, because while she may act confident in her misinformation, the fact is that she doesn't know anything about what she's talking about.

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 6 months

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I just wanted to drop a note to thank everyone who has supported the Patreon over the years, or signs up for things like my (free) Substack. It really means a lot.

I update both of those platforms infrequently. I’ve tried to build better habits about that over the years and continually run into the same problem: I don’t want to post anything about what I’m working on unless I’m 110% sure my opinions is informed as possible and I am not sharing anything erroneous. There is so much misinformation out there regarding animals in general and zoos and exotic animal politics especially that I absolutely do not want to add to it.

What that means in practice is that topics often take months to years to research, and big projects need multiple years to end up with something I’m comfortable publishing. (That accreditation reporting writeup was an idea I chewed over for easily two years prior to starting work; then it took spent six months to researching write it up). I have one project in the wings where I can’t even start a major part until Feb 2024, because data collection has to happen after the implementation of a new set of federal regulations. These things are great for creating quality work, but less good for providing people who are supporting your work with something tangible on a reasonably frequent basis.

Also, at this point? Most of my current big projects are so complex - and such novel things to study about the zoo industry - that I’m taking the extra time to really cross every t and dot every i with the research, and then get them peer-reviewed through credible academic journals. I think there’s four or five different projects that will be papers I’m working on simultaneously (and sporadically) right now. And as many of you know, this is a hobby, not a paying profession.

So. Thank you for sticking around through the long silences and the intermittent publications. I have so much I want to talk about, but it has to wait until I can do it right. I have so many cool things planned (like, multiple interactive websites) for once everything is finished and published. Whether or not you’re on the Patreon or just awaiting infrequent Substack updates, I really appreciate all of it.

#my work #rambles #crowdfunding is a really awkward way to support longitudinal work #and I absolutely have no hard feelings when people feel like I don’t update the Patreon enough to be worth supporting #doing this work is something I am trying to figure out as I go #but thank you for being here and being supportive in whatever capacity feels good for you

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zepskies · 1 year

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Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn��t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary.

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

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inkskinned · 2 years

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i both firmly believe that self-diagnosing saved my life and i think that the way tiktok and instagram have recently been spreading misinformation about mental illness/neurodivergence is incredibly harmful.

people who are looking for answers are already people who are in a vulnerable situation.

much of the misinformation appears logically sound; and is presented as definitive fact (prefaced with claims such as "research shows"). it's imperative we remember correlation does not prove causation. it is incredibly dangerous to make definitive statements like "if X happened in your childhood, you now Z as an adult." real scientists will almost always use may or other less-definitive terms. similarly, equating one behavior/experience with any single condition is also unsafe. many conditions have overlapping symptoms; and many people "mask" their key symptoms, even to themselves.

we cannot discern from a singular data point any conclusion. in official diagnosis, for a behavior/experience to be considered a symptom, it must significantly influence your life. many people enjoy an organized space. that is a preference. disrupting your daily life even at personal cost in order to prioritize organization is more likely a symptom.

again, a single data point is not an effective diagnostic tool. it is necessary and important work to catalogue and consider all unwanted/distressing behaviors in order to understand a complete picture of the person.

i will see creators in paid partnerships make generalized behavioral/emotional claims that apply to a large portion of a community, and then they will suggest that the "solution" to that behavior is through their paid partner/through their personal support. "follow for more psych tips/facts" is an incredibly evil marketing tactic. i very rarely see unpartnered/unbranded content on how to aid/comfort those behaviors and feelings.

much of the misinformation employs a subtle technique (called confirmation bias) of setting up a conclusion before "proving" the conclusion. "you know you have X when you experience A,B, and C." no person's experience of their conditions/behaviors will look exactly the same as another's. while knowing certain things might be a sign/symptom of a condition, it is irresponsible to consider it definitive.

confirmation bias is unfortunately extremely effective on tiktok specifically. the algorithm will notice that you interacted longer with the video that "proves" (through a singular video) that you "have" a condition. it will continue to feed you related videos that further confirm what you believe.

this is dangerous because we are, unfortunately, not good at knowing ourselves. i did not know it was unusual to vividly nightmare every night; i didn't consider it a symptom. i was similarly dismissive also of any other signs of my PTSD - i incorrectly assigned them to anxiety/adhd. on the small scale, this can mean a longer journey to healing. on the larger scale, it can mean people with extremely difficult situations are unable to get the help they need.

please, if you can, and you're looking to self-diagnose: be careful about what you assume about yourself. try to keep an honest journal of what you're thinking/feeling/doing for a few days.

do not go in with an assumption. try to keep an open mind. i think we all "suspect" we have something - but like i said, i completely missed my own PTSD symptoms, because i suspected the ADHD the most, and only "saw" those symptoms.

do your own research. if the tiktok says "research shows", google that research. figure out who paid for that research. do further research related to that study - has it ever been repeated? is it peer reviewed? do other researchers seem to accept it as conclusive?

if you feel you really resonate with the materials of one person's experience with a condition, find other examples. see if you relate to other creators who identify similarly.

and please - please do not stop once you come to a conclusion. i fully believe that the diagnostic process should be seen as a first step, not a destination. by knowing what you might be struggling with, you gain an incredibly powerful tool on how to gain peace with that condition.

if you feel yourself emotionally respond to a tiktok/etc that suggests something that might be true about yourself, i'm glad you had that experience. but it's also important to not relax into the "easy" answer. interrogate it. start googling what else that could mean; what ways you could work on healing that wound.

healing does not "belong" to any one condition. i want you to begin to look into healing no matter if you have "proven" you have a condition or not. it is never selfish to practice responsible self-care. even if you don't relate to having adhd, you are not harming me by using adhd-inspired study tips. it is not making my condition worse for you to seek peace by asking for more time on tests. even if it was - the fault would be with the system, not in your need of something the system makes inaccessible.

remind yourself that everything you experience is real. and because it is real, it is complicated. while things might be related - even sometimes clearly related - a stranger on the internet cannot make that discernment for you. you as a person deserve the work, attention, and care that goes into the process of unravelling the harm that has been done to you.

it makes me very, very upset to see how popular these videos have become, because they're so irresponsible. and they clearly are targeting a vulnerable group. for example, making generalized claims about children of unloving caretakers is targeting those who have experienced neglect. there is no way to use 30 second videos to correctly analyze what that neglect might have caused in your adult life. i'm sorry, but it's snake oil.

i know it is so powerful soothing to recognize that you aren't broken. that others exist like you out there. i want every person looking for answers to find their answer. i want you to feel seen and heard and understood. i want you to find your community.

i just want it to happen safely.

#every time i write this im like #i just want to say a short thing about this #and every time it ends up being 12 pages long #but since it keeps happening #and i keep seeing shit like this...#this isn't even everything i feel about this #i hope this is clear like #what im saying is #NOT ''you don't have it if u selfdiagnose''#it's instead....#you might!!! just don't let 1 or 2 videos confirm it!!#also!!! don't assume that symptom A belongs to condition X!!#even as someone who did eventually get diagnosed like #i still find myself being like - oh that's my adhd #only to figure out 12 hours later. nope that was a panic attack #also none of those videos are about how to HELP the behavior #also this doesn't talk about getting a therapist eventually but please get professional help if you can #it took me fucking forever tho #what im saying is that in the meantime #u can heal now #this is too long im posting it on a sunday so nobody reads it

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

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I wonder… Zoo Siren AU but reversed? MC is the siren stuck in the zoo and the skeletons are the workers? How would that work out? 🤔

owHOOPS tripped and fell in love with the pretty local siren girl

Sans: He's a researcher studying siren communications. When the local aquarium offers for him to interact regularly with their resident siren for his research, he's delighted, and jumps at the chance. She's initially very hostile toward him but nothing can cool his absolute fascination with such a beautiful apex predator- he wears her down with his consistency, always visiting and giving her snacks and talking with her. He also wears her down with his obvious admiration and delight... it's hard to hate someone, when they think everything about you is perfect and worth its own individual peer-reviewed paper. She often finds herself blushing at his clear googoo eyes.

Over time, they do build a genuine connection. And Sans feels that. He's always visiting, and he's making great progress with his research. But... he starts to realise that he isn't even paying that much attention to his research anymore. A lot of his growing obsession with his field... well. It boils down to an obsession with her.

Red: He's her 'trainer' technically, but he dislikes the word. He's the one who spends the most time in the tank with her, his job description is pretty much just to make her do tricks for the crowd but he goes out of his way to try and keep her entertained and mentally stimulated, with tank games and complicated routines they can perform together underwater. If anyone else tried to get her to do 'tricks' she'd bite their hands off, but she allows it with Red, because he makes it really fun. She still does bite him every now and then- but it's much more playful. Much more flirty. Red seems chill... but secretly, he fucking hates the idea of anyone else being in the tank with her, because everyone else seems to treat her like a performing monkey.

She may have a little bit of a crush on him. He's always so confident, and he's always spending time with her. His teeth remind her of a big shark- a big predator, just like her. She trusts him.

Skull: He's in charge of her feeding schedule and health. Something of a vet and a chef, he makes sure she's healthy, stable, regularly eating nutritious food to keep her safe. She likes him a lot and not just because he's always bringing food- at first he was intimidating, but nobody can resist the Skull Rizz and she grew to consider him a close companion. She likes that he lets her gnaw on his hands... she also likes that if she offers to share some of her food with him he'll literally eat it on the spot. She admires the intense dedication- no one else will eat raw fish like him.

He'll sit on the edge of her pool, and she'll come spend time with him. Most siren doctors who try to give her checkups end up losing a few knuckles here and there, but Skull can simply hold out his hand and she'll let him examine wherever he needs to. He feels deeply responsible for her safety and health.

#llamagines #zoo siren mc au #siren mc has a much better time than the siren sanses #the sanses have 1 person who cares between the three of them #mc has 3 people who deeply care all to herself #better food... better entertainment... better overall treatment too #because who the fuck is going to question skull when he tells u she needs better water quality

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sssammich · 2 months

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collateral ch6

HELLO i'm posting this purely for the bit in that it's st. patrick's day and therefore it's kmcg's day. sorry to the one veto vote in my unserious poll.

here's the chapter in ao3

here's the rest on tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

thx for reading see u next time

---

It’s only Kara’s third week on the job at CatCo. It’s a definite upgrade from her job writing articles for the Midvale Messenger, but the transition from small town to big city living has needed a little learning curve. She’s barely gotten used to her schedule, let alone the bus route to and from her apartment when a really big assignment falls on her lap that changes her entire life.

She looks up, pushing her glasses back on her face when she finds Snapper’s scowling face in front of her.

“Come with me.”

She furrows her brows, yet before she has time to ask him anything, he’s already walking away. She scrambles to her feet and rushes after her boss paying little attention to the stares coming from those around the office. She eventually gets her answer when they end up in his office.

“Sir, what—”

“Can you explain to me why Lena Luthor requested you specifically to write about the launch of their new tech project?”

Kara’s head remains empty as she quickly rifles through her mind for some flash of recognition to that name. She doesn’t know a Lena Luthor nor does she even cover the tech beat.

“Snapper, sir, this might be a misunderstanding. I don’t know who that is.”

He glares at her just as he places one hand on his hip while the other rests on his desk. “Well, you better figure out who she is quickly. You have an interview with her on Thursday at 10am. Do not be late. And make that article worth my while, you understand?”

“Me?” she asks, her head slow to catch up to his words.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Now, get out of my office.”

Wordlessly, and still a little shell-shocked, Kara quickly exits out of his office and makes his way back to her desk.

“What was that about?” William, one of her coworkers, asks her as peers over his monitor.

She shakes her head. “I have no freakin’ clue.”

—

Armed with a memo pad and her trusty BIC ballpoint pen, she enters the L-Corp building in downtown National City. She’s on her second cup of coffee this morning, having stayed up late the last two nights doing her homework, researching about L-Corp, the upcoming project launch that the company has largely kept under wraps, and the head of Research and Design: Lena Luthor.

She has no idea what this woman’s game is about, but she won’t turn down the opportunity as it presents itself.

Wiping her sweaty hands on the back of her chinos, she reaches the 46th floor and talks with Lena’s assistant about ten minutes before her appointment.

“Miss Luthor will be with you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

She waits patiently in the small waiting area, her knee bouncing slightly. She crosses her legs at the knee and resituates herself to stop the bounce. She glances at the clock on the wall and finds that Lena Luthor is now five minutes late.

She considers walking up to the assistant who seems very intently typing away at her keyboard, but thinks better of it. She waits it out, gives it another five minutes. She reviews her questions from her pad and double checks that her recorder is fully charged. The ticking from the clock and the consistent typing sounds fill the otherwise empty waiting area.

She watches on as the assistant takes a call before looking over at her from across the way.

“Miss Luthor apologies for her tardiness, but if you could wait another five minutes, she’ll be on her way up.”

She nods and sits back slightly in her chair. The clock ticks on.

While waiting, Kara briefly wonders if this is some type of test, a ploy to check on her. Her imagination lands her to think that this might be some kind of hazing from her colleagues. That didn’t make sense, however, not when this assistant seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t participate in a prank if it affected her productivity.

After almost twenty minutes, Kara audibly sighs, tries to rein in her annoyance, before getting up from her seat and decides that perhaps it’s best to reschedule. Just as she’s about to talk with the assistant, the elevator dings open and a woman in a lab coat wearing large dark-rimmed glasses with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail rushes towards them.

“You must be Kara Danvers,” the woman says, her voice coming out composed despite the exhale she lets out, no doubt from rushing out.

“I—yes,” she offers, a little stupefied in her spot, glancing down at the offered hand before slowly taking it in her own.

“Lena Luthor. My deepest apologies for being so late; I was on my way up when a small emergency that couldn’t be ignored exploded…literally.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is more than fine, thank you. Now, I’m sure you’re also a busy woman, so if we need to reschedule, then I understand. But if you have some time to spare, I can clear part of my schedule so you can ask all of your questions.”

She blinks a few times to process Lena’s words, a reckoning force in front of her that Kara wouldn’t deny, even if she could. She beams and steps to the side. “Deal.”

—

True to her word, Lena Luthor answers all of her questions about the new project called Biomax, a nanotechnology meant to advance and expedite healing for various open wounds and injuries. She thoughtfully takes notes of Lena’s responses knowing that the recording will help jog her memories if necessary.

“Do you have any more questions?”

Kara glances down to the last question that she has underlined twice: why me?

She hesitates, an uneasy smile on her face. “Yeah, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you pick me to interview you? As far as I know, we’ve never met—I’d remember you, for the record—so…just…why?”

Lena holds her gaze, her head tipping to the side as she regards Kara. She almost looks away under the attention, but maintains her composure.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask me right away.”

She shrugs.

“This project is very important to L-Corp and could greatly affect public perceptions of the company.”

“I won’t write a puff piece if that’s what you’re asking,” she declares, sitting up. Yet Lena matches her and places a hand up, as if to stop her.

“On the contrary. I need you to do what you do best.”

“Excuse me?”

Lena tents her hands in front of her and smirks. “Your established work in the Midvale Messenger shows level-headedness and thoughtful critiques. You’ve shown fair assessment and reporting, as far as I’m aware.”

“Oh.”

“This is a good project, Miss Danvers. I believe it can do a lot of good for a lot of people. But prior to the rebranding, L-Corp has been host to many scandals, as I’m sure your research has shown you. All I ask is that the project is reported on on its own merits and critiqued fairly for what it is and not who owns the building that developed it.”

“You researched me?”

“As I’m sure you researched me.”

“Fair enough.” She nods in understanding. Then, “Don’t worry. I’ll do my job.”

Lena smiles wide and Kara can’t help but glance down at red lips and white teeth.

“That’s all I ask.”

Lena’s phone rings, signaling that she needs to get ready for an upcoming meeting. They both stand on either side of Lena’s desk before Lena walks around and stands practically toe to toe with her.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Luthor—”

“Lena, please.”

“Lena, then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Danvers.”

“Well, if I’m calling you Lena…”

“Kara it is. Feel free to call back if you need anything else for your article.”

It’s only as they take the few measured steps between the desk and the office door that Kara notes the warm and cozy tones of Lena’s perfume just as she catches the side to side swish of her long ponytail from the corner of her eye.

She turns around again and offers a hand, this time Lena grabbing hold of it with ease and shaking it a few times.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.”

“I hope not either.”

It’s not until Jess opens the door in front of them that they let go of each other’s hands.

—

Her article goes to print, and she’s happy to see her name on the byline. So soon after starting her job, too.

When she walks into the office the morning her article goes live, she’s met with all eyes from everyone staring at her as soon as she steps out of the elevator. She offers them uneasy smiles as she treks to her desk only to find it teeming with flowers.

“What’s this?” she asks as she tries to move the different bouquets out of her seat and away from her monitor and keyboard. She glances at William next desk over and he only shrugs.

“Secret admirer?”

She plucks the lone card from one of the bouquets and flips it over, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank you for doing your job. L.L.

—

The paper bag crinkles in her grip as she adjusts the shoulder strap of her messenger bag. The elevator dings and she appears back on the 46th floor of the L-Corp building.

She walks towards the assistant who doesn’t seem surprised to see her.

“Hi, uh—” she quickly glances at the name on the desk, “—hi, Jess. I was here last time. I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think Len–Miss Luthor has a small break coming up or anything like that?” She knocks her glasses back up her nose with her knuckle.

Jess studies her for a moment before glancing back down to the monitor. “She’s free for the next fifteen minutes.”

She nods quickly and smiles, appreciative of the granted access.

Kara knocks and waits until she hears a muffled response for her to enter. She peeks through the door before slowly making her way in.

“Hi, Lena. Sorry to drop in unannounced…”

“Kara, hello. This is a lovely surprise.”

She hums. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It turns out, it’s hard to get work done when your desk is overflowing with flowers.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.”

“No? Somehow I’m surprised,” she asks with a slight giggle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Lena nods, her face sobering slightly, even with the smile still on her face.

Kara brings a hand up and fixes her glasses again. “Well, I’m not sure I can compete with dozens and dozens of flowers. But perhaps I can offer you with a couple deep fried sugary goodness in exchange. You do eat donuts, right?”

Lena stands from the side of her desk and walks to accept the bag from Kara’s hands. “Well, I am human. Thank you, Kara. Won’t you join me? Probably for the best I don’t eat it all.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

Lena sits on the white couch at the far end of her office. “I’m very sure.”

Kara takes a spot on the couch, the bag of donuts sitting between them. The fifteen minutes of break that Jess originally mentioned becomes half an hour then an hour until it’s just about time to leave for the day, the minutes and hours filled with conversation about nothing, everything.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Lena,” she starts as they both rise to their feet. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Nonsense.”

“I should probably get going, though. A few bites of donuts isn’t enough sustenance.”

“Well, if you’re not tired of me yet, I was just about to grab some dinner. You're welcome join me.”

"I couldn't impose."

"I insist."

Kara glances down at the way Lena’s hands fiddled with each other. Then she thinks briefly about the empty apartment that awaits her and the leftovers sitting in her fridge.

“Well, then, I’d love that.”

—

Days of friendship blossomed into weeks, Kara and Lena trading texts and video calls interspersed with dinners and coffees after long work days.

The excitement of friendship with Lena lit something deep inside of Kara that she didn’t know ever existed. Simply put, being around Lena was a source of comfort while she settled herself in National City.

“You’re not the only one who’s new around here,” Lena had said to her during one of their coffee outings, sympathizing with Kara’s adjustment after her recent arrival to the city. “It’s nice for me, too, to have someone—a friend—to spend time with. My therapist thinks so, anyway.”

Kara then reached forward and placed a hand on Lena’s. “Tell your therapist you’re not alone, Lena. You’ve got me.”

Lena smiled before reaching over and giving her a hug. Kara easily accepted, held Lena close to her, and made sure to never break her vow.

—

It’s been a handful of months since Lena and Kara became friends, best friends even, and being allowed unrestricted access to Lena’s office for Kara to stop by still rattles something inside of her. It’s…she can’t quite put a finger on it. A kind of intimacy she enjoys: to be chosen, to be privileged in this way.

She greets Jess with a grin and a separate bag for Jess’s favored almond croissants as Kara carries her and Lena’s lunch from Noonan’s.

“How’s it looking today, Jess?” she asks just as puts the bag for Jess on her desk. The assistant grabs for the bag, an uncharacteristic voraciousness as she opens it and takes a whiff of the pastry. “That bad, huh?”

“She’ll enjoy seeing you today, let’s just say.”

“Alright. Does she have a hard stop?”

“She has a conference call at 3. But otherwise, keep her from her computer until then.”

“Got it.”

Just then, Lena pulls the door open. “Stop plotting against me.”

Kara beams and walks forward with a one-armed hug as she holds the bag of their lunch away from their bodies. She warms at Lena’s touch, both of her arms wrapping around Kara’s back before it gently slides down the length of her back before her hands rest briefly on Kara’s waist.

“I’ll plot against you any way I like. I’m my own woman.”

“Yes, you are. It’s good to see you, darling. But we don’t have an appointment, do we?”

“No, no. I just figured I’d drop off some lunch for you. Heard you’ve had a brutal morning.”

Lena then glances at Jess who has remained steadfast in staring at her screen. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Now we can stand here or we can actually eat some lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Lena steps back and allows her to walk past her, making a beeline for the coffee table in front of her white couch. She quickly takes out their food from the bag and situates it neatly in front of them, a nice little spread of salads and breads and pasta dishes.

“Did you buy all of Noonan’s?” Lena asks when she sits beside Kara on the couch. “I can’t possibly eat all of this food, Kara.”

“Uh, because they’re not for you,” she says, offering a playful scoff. “That’s your kale salad and all the good stuff is mine.”

She grins when she catches Lena rolling her eyes at her who otherwise grabs a plastic fork and takes a healthy bite out of her salad. Kara hates the stuff, thinks it’s an abomination, but she’s happy to see her friend eating and relaxing.

Kara etches this moment to memory. Because she likes how settled Lena is beside her as they dig into their lunch. Likes how visibly comfortable Lena looks as she asks Kara about her day so far. Likes how she nudges some other dishes Lena’s way until Lena relents, still gracious as she does so, picking at some of the food. It’s one of Kara’s favorite views, the way Lena leaves herself unguarded, her walls down, with her.

Abruptly and without notice, something inside of Kara shifts—irreparably, irrevocably.

She doesn’t know what she’s even said for Lena to snort in laughter, putting her food down on the coffee table to cover her mouth as giggles leak through her fingers.

Something inside of Kara slots into place, the world suddenly saturated and sharpened.

When Lena gets a handle on her laughter, her mouth still etched with the echoes of her mirth, she opens her eyes to fondly look back at Kara, grasping at her arm and squeezing.

Kara doesn’t hear anything but the pulse of her blood rushing to her ears, and the heat of Lena’s hand on her skin suddenly scorching her.

And Kara, hopeless and unprepared, discovers on a Tuesday afternoon that she’s maybe a little bit in love with her best friend.

#samfic: collateral #supercorp #supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfiction #samfic #ok ok im gonna go do other things for now

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thewhumpyprintingpress · 3 months

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Your New Lab Rat: A Guide for Whumpers Scientists

CW: Lab whump, dehumanization, implied captivity, torture, non-sexual nudity, and restraints

Congratulations on your new lab rat! This is a big step in any scientist's career, and in this helpful guide I'll walk you through getting your subject prepared for experimentation. I know you're excited and want to jump right into the science, but trust me, the proper prep work is essential.

First things first, you need to call your lab rat something. The following are some of the most common names, but feel free to be creative!

Subject (my personal favorite)

Specimen

Asset

An ID number

Their species

Did you pick out a name? Excellent! The next step is to strip away the rest of their dignity. I know this might seem a bit harsh, but it's the best way to ensure your subject cooperates, and you need their cooperation to get that sweet, sweet data you're after. Take away all their possessions, even their clothes. You can give them some scrubs or a hospital gown if you want, or you can just leave them nude. If they argue or cry, just ignore them. There's always an adjustment period when a subject enters a lab, it'll pass quickly.

Your next steps will vary based on the temperament of your subject. If your subject is docile, you might not need to do anything further in preparation and can jump right into experimenting. However, some subjects exhibit aggression, which is unproductive to data collection. You will have to tame them. There are a wide variety of techniques that can be used, so consider the resources at your disposal. Note that you do not want to cause irreparable harm to your subject at this stage. Here's a list of popular disciplinary techniques to consider:

Shock collar

Withholding food, sleep, etc.

Isolation/solitary confinement

Stress positions

Sedatives

And of course, give positive reinforcement when your subject completes a wanted behavior. Most subjects are eager to please once they understand that they will be rewarded for cooperation. Your subject will be behaving themself in no time!

Finally it's time to start your experiments. Stick to the scientific method, and remember results must be replicable to stand up to peer review. That means that you'll need to run the same experiment on your subject multiple times, and preferably have other subjects to compare them to.

A note on safety: even the best trained subject can act out if in pain. I always recommend the use of restraints during experimentation for your own safety. Additionally, always make sure you are wearing the proper PPE. Gloves, safety goggles, lab coat, hazmat suit, etc. make your you protect yourself!

Science is hard work, but by preparing your subject beforehand it will be that much easier. Whatever your research goals, I wish you and your subject good luck!

If you decide to write your own lab rat whumpee, consider submitting to The Whumpboratory, our lab whump-themed anthology! Submissions are open until May 31, 2024. More info here!

#lab whump #dehumanization tw #whump #whump prompt list #lab rat whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #the whumpboratory

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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Aziraphale Does NOT Have Depression

or: Please Have a Look at the ICD

or: This Word Does Not Mean What You Think It Does

I cannot believe I even have to make this post, but here we are. Hi. Hello guys. Maybe I should start a series called "Alex fact-checks meta posts" because I have seen things that should have never been written.

A small excursion before we start: The way things usually work in academic circles is that the person making the claim needs to provide proof for said claim, which is then peer-reviewed by unrelated academic parties. That involves not only making sure that the results they are basing their claim on are replicable—meaning that if someone else were to do the same work, they would receive the same result—but also that their methods were ethical and functional.

If it turns out that their methods or any other part of the process are not replicable, functional, or otherwise waterproof, then the paper is marked as not being correct and that it should be disregarded.

While this is far from academic circles, these rules still apply to any kind of conversation or discussion, especially that last part:

If you make a claim, back it up, or it should be disregarded.

With that, welcome to the peer-review of "Aziraphale has depression" claims. Obligatory note that this is not about fanfiction or headcanons but people claiming that Aziraphale canonically has depression.

You may sit in front of your screen and think Alex, why do you think you can write this post? To which I happily respond that not only am I professionally diagnosed with both Dysthymia and Recurrent Depressive Disorder, I have also a) done my research offline with psychiatrists and psychologists and b) know how to read academic literature because my degree very much requires me to be able to do so.

If you want to go and fact-check what I am about to present—which you are explicitly invited to do in case you want to publicly disagree with me—you can find the entirety of the ICD 11 right here.

No paywall, completely free access.

For those who have never heard of it, ICD stands for "International Classification of Diseases", which is by now on its 11th version and written and maintained by the WHO/World Health Organization. It contains all kinds of relevant information, like diagnostic criteria, about all diseases. As you can see, this includes mental disorders and illnesses:

Let's get into it!

First things first, there is no such thing as "depression", that term is a colloquial reduction of a number of different disorders categorized under Mood Disorders -> Depressive Disorders. Said category also contains any and all diagnoses related to Bipolar Disorders.

"Depression" is nondescript, loose, and can mean a long list of things, and social media has diluted and romanticized its meaning. For the purpose of this post, we will have a look at the criteria for three diagnoses:

Dysthymic disorder (shortened here to dysthymia)

Single episode depressive disorder, mild ( // to single episode)

Recurrent depressive disorder, current episode mild ( // recurrent)

I assume people mean a crude mix of these when they say "depression". Both recurrent and single episode can be diagnosed with dysthymia, but they cannot be diagnosed with each other. Recurrent automatically excludes single episode as a diagnosis, which I think is obvious if you think about it.

Before we look at the symptoms themselves, here is something very important to keep in mind about diagnoses: There are two requirements that pretty much every listed disorder and illness in the ICD has.

The first is that the symptoms are not related to something else—whether that's another mental disorder, a physical illness, or simply a cultural influence. It needs to be clear that they are due to something outside of what is already known and not circumstantial.

The second one is that the present symptoms are causing significant distress and impair a person's functioning in at least two different areas of life.

Or, to put it bluntly, a disorder needs to be disordering or it isn't one.

Additionally, the severity of the displayed symptoms needs to be taken into account. If several of them are not causing any negative impact on someone's life, they are not symptoms and cannot be counted.

Now, I will very much reduce the information the ICD provides us with or we will be here forever, but it is all correct and not partial in its meaning. To keep everything neat and tidy, I created a nice, colour-coded table:

If you disagree with what I marked for Aziraphale, great, please provide me with textual evidence of where exactly he exhibits each criteria, that it is not related to periodical stress or something else, and cannot be attributed to exceptional circumstances (like the end of the world).

The ONLY symptom we ever see Aziraphale consistently show throughout all six thousand thousand years is the one marked in yellow: low self-worth or excessive or inappropriate guilt.

However, if you paid attention to what I explained above, you will notice why this is in no way indicative of a depressive disorder.

Not only is it one symptom out of several required ones, it can also be explained by something else, which is the emotional neglect and abuse heaven subjected and subjects every (former) angel to. The same can be said for any anxious symptoms he exhibits sometimes, emphasis on sometimes.

In conclusion, Aziraphale does not have depression, and I think making a case that he does will be almost entirely built on assumptions and subjective interpretations, not anything that is in any shape or form supported by text or subtext.

Does that mean all of his struggles are somehow invalid? No, of course not. They are simply not due to a disorder but something else, that's literally all this post proves. It makes no moral judgement.

#alex talks good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #aziraphale meta #go2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #crowley

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