#Why can't I analyze stuff

[unhinged-as-hell]

"It's fiction it's not that deep!" Okay, but I want to be deep. I'm passionate about it.

"It's only fictional characters!" Okay, but it's still a problematic person/ship and I'm giving you my reasons on why.

"People can hc fictional characters any way they want!" okay. I'm not saying they can't. I just want to explore complex characters like they are but can't because people have changed the character completely and it makes me kinda sad that I feel alone in this.

[affluent-havoc]

Random Togami Headcanon 13

TL;DR - Byakuya's bettered himself but he still has a long road of healing. Also, heads up. This one's not happy like most of the others. Gets a bit hopeful at the end but there's still a lot of sad topics here. Viewer discretion is advised. Now that he feels more empathy for others and possesses some capability for putting himself in another's shoes, thoughts he used to have about the lower class make him feel... off. Perhaps guilt or discomfort with himself. It doesn't help though looking at his classmates every school day and being reminded of the mindset he was raised with. It especially doesn't help when he looks at Makoto who helped him. Makoto being the commoner of all commoner's also hurts. He appreciates what Makoto's done to help him but it unintentionally stabs him hard within his chest that he needed someone's help to get to this point and the someone being a commoner he once wrote off. Next, with this empathy, the heir feels better with his life and happiness but fundamentally worse. It's as if he deteriorated though, logically, he knows it's not the case. He knows that the illogical side of his brain covers itself in the hides of reason and rationale. Essentially, Byakuya ends up having a grueling struggle with dealing with these emotions that, for the majority of his life, he buried and repressed. Emotions that both make him feel more fulfilled in life but that tear him apart inside. Bouts where he feels either extremely content with how he's turned out or that dread and despair that he's slipping back into his old ways. In fact, at times, it becomes overwhelming for him to handle which he especially hates. Being overwhelmed is yet another thing he once viewed as a weakness and, to some extent, he still does. Sometimes, to cope, jokes to himself on whether existing itself is something he feels is a weakness. However, though he has a lot of emotions and thoughts that upset him now as a bettered person, one big thing that pains him is that he has the capability and the intelligence to notice all of this. It's the acknowledgment that stings. The heir notices that he has a problem, that he probably needs help, maybe even therapy, but then he spirals more because of that realization. Why should HE need HELP for these problems of his?! He's an independent person! He should logically be able to handle this himself. He's always handled his problems on his own! Why should he now need someone or just a support system of people to aid in his path of healing? He feels gross for that support system being the classmates who he once adamantly despised with such vitriol. With the added empathy, he also feels shame as he doesn't want to hurt any more people in his life now. He has the hindsight to know this now. He questions himself. Is the situation he's in even that big of a deal and should he keep searching for answers on the "why" and "how"? Is it worth it? Comparisons to the peasants he used to once adamantly demonize also do not escape him. He feels worse because, while he's breaking at the seams, countless of other commoners have similar thoughts too. He's not unique and a bit of that stings his lingering superiority. Then, there is the fact that Byakuya feels even worse about this BECAUSE commoners can handle stuff like this and yet, he keeps saying that he can't due to his mental spirals. Either that or the older thoughts of hating commoners bites back by making him feel like he's "acting like one". He knows by this point that he's actively tearing himself down and that he needs to escape this cycle of mental abuse. He feels shame in himself though. He feels humiliated. Pathetic. Overly emotional in ways he's never felt before. He still has that hope though. The hope that he can get through his. The heir's already delt with so much whether canon, non-despair, or an au of some kind. He's continued on despite it all. And, though long ago, he would have pushed some of this hope off for it being too optimistic, he's grown to care less about that sort of thought anymore. Byakuya can do this.

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know multiple of these are likely important to people, but I'm asking in terms of like - which of these do you tend to focus on the MOST, enjoy the most, that is most essential for you to actually care about the media, etc.?

(For example: someone finding "Relatability" most important would likely not enjoy a show much if they have trouble empathizing with the characters/relating to it, even if it were good otherwise. Or, someone might be able to overlook bad acting and ugly costumes, as long as the Character Dynamics are fun to them, because they value that more than Aesthetics- while for others, bad costumes would be a dealbreaker.)

Also feel free to reblog and explain your answer or more information in the tags- I've always been curious about people's relationships to media, how they conceptualize it/what they get out of it, how some people value some parts more than others, how that informs their overall taste and genres they may be more inclined towards, etc. :0c

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay i just marathoned the entirety of ATLA live action & i might do an actual review of it explaining my thoughts more in depth, but the TLDR version basically boils down to this:

if you want to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, just go watch the 2005 cartoon

[that1randomnerd]

I once saw a post talking about DNIs on fanfic, and I'm pretty sure that fanfic DNIs originate from people getting harassed over the ships in their fics, which has led to people saying if you ship X (say it's a popular ship for the fandom that you don't ship) then DNI; which, based on my interpretation of the meaning of DNI, means "Don't talk about X on my fic" because of the amount of people who will harass creators over ships

Let me bring up Fl*werfell. For those in the Undertale AU fandom, you may have heard of it. You may think of it as the Fr*ns (au and ship censored so as to not show up when people are looking for content on those things). That's not true. The original FF never had Fr*ns. The original creator got harassed over this, and people would even re-upload the whole au but edited to be Fr*ns, which also led to them being harassed for "having" that ship in it.

Tl;dr: DNIs on fanfic most likely began as a way to mitigate harassment over ships. And if you don't like, don't read and just leave.

[katyspersonal]

I will sound like I am 45 and not 25 ofc, but to be truthful, I am heading towards losing my joy and passion as a fan-artist. It is about the fandoms as a concept in general, without applying it to any specific one. More like about, WHAT fandoms are by now.

I tend to dive into a game/show/whatever ears deep because as an autist I interact with a lot of concepts vicariously through fiction, but also because I just have this natural wish to respect and love (revere, even) something, and complicated creative works that combine several art types work just well. But fandoms are... bad. They are just bad. Now this is absolutely normal for some gremlin that doesn't know anything about the source material to jump in and start to do their thing - be it being super inaccurate to begin with, breaking the source material to replace with their agenda and tastes, or simply spam a lot of samey, 'soulless'(?) fanart with clear clout in mind to, as kids call it, "build the platform" so they can let the STONKS roll in and promote their own stuff at last if they have it.

Like... This is what fandoms ARE by now. Halfway the grinding ground to gain following to sell commissions to, halfway a ground to spread politics and opinions. Business or propaganda. Not a matter of whether products and propaganda are for good things, they're value neutral concepts and can be used for good or bad equally, but both are not ABOUT the source material. Okay, not fully halfway - some ears-deep fans still are here. But why even? When we, actual fans, give people essays on why they are drastically wrong about a character - we get mocked for not having (highlight the correct: real life, girlfriend, touched the grass, job, all applies). When we demand respect and accuracy to the source material - we are called snobbish entitled gatekeepers at least, accused of various isms and phobias at large. When we try to encourage something deeper and more interesting - again, people tell us we are "boring" and that no one cares about this or that character, and outright boast about how they are only here for this sexy man or for that ship and not really lore dive.

Even basically ancient fandoms like Doctor Who, Star Wars or Star Trek that sprouted THANKS TO those exact "30+ loosers with no life" could no longer uphold the whole ears-deep fan mentality because new installments invited too much shallow fans that are prone to mocking too, and celebrities that are responsible for making awful reboots/continuations can just violate the source however they want under cover of "everyone who doesn't like it is just a sexist and racist incel". This is just how it is now. Passion, elaborate knowledge on the source and respect for a thing truly great creative minds created are now considered DIRTY things, and are a proof of one's inferiority in accomplishments and personality. Because fandoms are no longer a place to gather FANS. They are "platforms".

I just consider, would it be more fun to either invest in the fandoms for real people (composers, poets, scientists, etc) where loving the source material for what it is is a requirement (because...... real people... historical accuracy....), or to just head towards creation my own thing sooner than later? I got to say though, I am thankful for each and every fan in whatever fandom I visited that was/is just as passionate as me. It felt, and still feels less lonely to have more people that don't see shame in REALLY fucking loving stories and characters.

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

thinking Abt Suguru autism and struggling bc I have forgotten 1. Everything Suguru has ever done 2. Every symptom of autism ever and then I remembered Suguru fucking. Knows every curse he's swallowed. And it's like y'know what maybe I don't have to make an airtight case for this

[hypewinter]

Hear me out! Danny finds his human form slowly getting more eldrich as he gets older (and more powerful) and ends up going to Gotham where people are way less likely to ask questions!

Sadly when the people of Gotham see Danny, oops my shadow has eyes now, Fenton they just assume he's gonna be a new Rouge!

Que the bat fam watching Danny waiting for him to make his move, over-analyzing everything he does. Mans can't even buy a new laptop without Bruce breathing down his neck about it

This would be an issue if Danny wasn't such a little troll, and he starts buying more obviously ominous things only to openly use them in improperly boring and normal ways. Like buys a death lazer and can be seen using it to make toast, buys a cursed box full of death themed artifacts and uses it as a coffee table, that kinda stuff.

Every time the bat's assume 'this is it!' And gets ready to take him down, only to see Danny setting up a new 'coat rack' made of kriptonite

Even better when they see him tinkering on some kind of doomsday device, the kind that looks super evil and dangerous and even has a red count down timer on the front and- it's a fucking air frier again! He already has three! Why does he keep making air friers?! Obviously this must be some kind of scheme

I raise you: Danny starts selling his things out to random citizens (they've all been intensely screened). The bats panic thinking this is an attempt to cripple Gotham in one fell swoop. Nope. Ms. Randall just really needed a new air purifier and Danny had a toxin dispenser that was just collecting dust.

I imagine though that he might start to notice that the bats are focusing on him a little too much which is a problem considering there are things going down in Gotham that actually need their attention. But at the same time, our resident ghost boy isn't ready to stop being a menace just yet. So what does he do? Kill too birds with one stone.

Whenever Danny catches wind of a new plot going down, he does something to draw the bats's attention to it. Two Face planning a robbery? Suddenly Danny is showing up to the bank everyday to work on the vault (he offered to reinforce it for free). The bats get so suspicious they focus hard on the bank and discover Two Face's plot before he can do anything.

The bats pat themselves on the back while Danny giggles in the background. Wonder how long it will take for them to figure out what's going on.

[luckyladylily]

So like, transandrophobia.

To start this out, I am a trans woman, been around in the queer community for a while. I'm also bisexuality, polyamorous, disabled, and aromantic, and I think these other parts of my identity and the crap I've caught over the years for them heavily informs how I analyze something like transandrophobia. My wife is also asexual, so that plays a part in it too.

So every group of marginalized people has their own unique experiences and problems. It's more of a rule than something we've mathematically demonstrated, but as far as these things go it's ridiculously well established, and personally every time I've done even a basic dive into the issues faced by a marginalized group it's been self evident. I could easily list a dozen groups ranging from racial minorities to different kinds of disabled people to different queer identities and analyze their social issues but let's be real, this is pretty well established theory, anyone who needs me to do that is not really interacting with good faith. This is one of the big reasons we talk to people about their own experiences and groups, we cannot reasonably extrapolate the experiences of others from our own.

So like trans men and trans mascs and anyone else that falls under that umbrella has their unique experiences. The idea that we would even question this is weird to me? Like I can't even imagine the kind of evidence someone would need to present to me to change my mind, and given the pattern of the queer community to be shitty in exactly this way to people in our community, yeah that is not happening.

Therefore, we are taking it for granted that the trans men/masc/related umbrella has their own things going on like everyone else ever, and I don't understand how someone acting in good faith can try to claim otherwise unless they are young or otherwise very inexperienced with such things.

The next point of contention seems to be the name, and I gotta be real I don't care and I don't understand why other people do. I've read all sorts of arguments against the word transandrophobia and the majority of them seem to be rooted in a misunderstanding of intersectionality, and even then it's like there is such a thing where people get so mired in theory that they miss the forest for the trees.

Perhaps more important to me, getting overly worked up about something as unimportant as the precise term is... weird. Like exclusionists hating on bi and ace people weird. I remember what it was like a decade ago when exclusionists were trying to police the words of bi women, and five years ago when ace and aro people were under constant attack under the pretense that our language was harmful for some reason or other. You are going to have to work very, very, very hard to convince me that any bickering over language as it relates to transandrophobia is not just more of the same.

Next, "transandrobros hate trans femmes" and similar stuff. I've seen the callout posts and found them completely unconvincing. Again, they read a lot like the old "ace people hate lesbians!" posts I used to see. I'm not convinced that the individuals involved were a problem, I am certainly not able to extrapolate a problem to the rest of the group.

Finally, there is this idea that "maleness is not a vector for oppression" and this invalidates something about the whole transandrophobia thing, ranging from the entire concept of trans men experiencing prejudice to something about language being imprecise all the way to "This is fascist shit, omg these people are basically nazis" depending on who says it. I'm not going to touch any of that and just look at the underlying logic.

This is based off a misunderstanding of intersectionality theory. Many people think of intersectionality as defining intersecting prejudice, like a ven diagram, such that transmisogyny is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny. This is incorrect. Intersectionality defines unique prejudice experienced by people with intersecting identities. Instead of a transmisogyny as the overlap of transphobia and misogyny, imagine adding a third circle that overlaps both but also has its own areas covered by neither.

Applied to transandrophobia, even if we assume maleness is not a vector for oppression, there is no reason to assume that the intersection of maleness with a marginalized identity doesn't result in new issues. Imagine that 3 circle venn diagram that represents misogyny, transphobia, and transmisogyny. Even if you remove the misogyny circle there is still plenty of ground covered by the transmisogyny circle.

This just isn't a valid criticism. It is a pure theory approach based on a flawed reading of theory.

So in summary:

Everyone has their unique shit going on and I've seen no convincing evidence that trans men, mascs, etc. Are the exception.

I not seen any convincing argument that the word itself is bad.

I've not seen any convincing evidence that there is some epidemic of transandrophobia truthers hating and harassing trans femmes on scales higher than normal background queer infighting.

The most coherent objection to transandrophobia I've seen is categorically incorrect and based on a fundamental misunderstanding of intersectionality theory.

I would like to remind everyone at this point I am a trans woman, part of the group that is supposedly a problem for and I've just not see it at all, to the point where it is kind of weird how intensely some people are pushing this.

I'm not trying to be mean or whatever, I'm sure the distress on display here comes from a real place and real trauma, but I've yet to see anything that makes me think there is substance to the objections to transandrophobia as a concept. It feels and reads like the latest round of queer intracommunity exclusionism, and the fact that this time around I'm not one of the target identities doesn't change that for me.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[catgirlwizard]

.

[creamecafe]

Fate by "Design" | Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: While doing art in a subway, the Salesman offers you to play Ddakji, a chance to win money. But you wanted his number. When you win, your acquaintance with the salesman becomes much more.

Pairing: Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, flirting, allusions to smut/sex, but not explicit

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: This was requested by Crazy4herluv on my Wattpad book Squid Game Imagines/One-Shots. This is also my first Salesman work, so I hope you enjoy!

*Icon used for this header above that I made in PicsArt is from Pinterest. Divider is from @cafekitsune in this post*

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

The sounds of the almost isolated subway and people walking is the highlight of your daily routine. You had moved to Korea to work for a art company and you do sketches by hand.

It paid very good money but in your free time you liked to be in the subway and do art for others like New York. People would walk and stop to see what you possibly could be doing.

A lot of the time, couples, parents with their kids or even old people would ask for a drawing each day and you get paid at least $130-200 at the end of the day.

Your art simply consisted of charcoal sketches of the person who requested for the art as semi-realistic as possible with a watercolor splash in the back if they ask.

Sometimes you notice while you're drawing or sketching away looking for people to draw, you would see a man in a black suit.

He had black hair and was always carrying a suitcase with him. He was also very handsome, you thought. When you took the time to actually analyze him or look at him, not in a creepy way you thought, you noticed that he would throw something on the ground and slap people.

This guy must be insane, you thought. Slapping people everyday, but it didn't stop you wondering who he really was. You thought of going up to him and asking if he would like his own portrai. But you were nervous of asking such a good looking guy and you are an artist in the subway, so he was way out of your league.

Today felt like any other day. Until one person, the guy in the black suit came up to you. You were going to pack up for the day when you accidentally dropped pencils and other supplies on the floor, then rolled around. As you were on the ground picking up the supplies, you saw polished black shoes stop and turn in front of you.

You look up and see him. The guy in the black suit looks down at you while you're trying to pick up your stuff.

"Good evening ma'am. I have a question for you."

You got up from the floor and brushed off the germs from yourself from the subway ground.

"Hello sir. I finished my hours for the day drawing so I can't accept any art requests right now I'm sorry. You could always come back tomorrow if you like."

"I'm not asking for a drawing. I'm asking if you would like to play a game."

A game? Is this guy Billy the puppet you thought?"

"What game?" You asked?

"It's called Ddakji. Have you heard of it before?"

Ddakji. It should sound familiar but you felt like you don't know it.

"I don't think so. What is it?"

"It's very simple. You fold two pieces of paper, usually of bright colors as it's a children's game like an envelope and the goal is to throw down the paper as hard as you can so the other person's paper flips over."

"What's the point of playing the game?"

"If you win, I'll give you money. A hundred thousand won."

Your eyes widened at what he said. A hundred thousand won? That amount of money to get while doing art in a subway could take a year or two. Yet here's this handsome well kept money offering to you.

"And if I lose?"

"Well usually I slap people until they win or just give up." That explains why you see this man in the subway grounds slapping people and throwing stuff down.

"But seeing how creative you are. How about a portrait of me? Use all your creativity and imagination you can and give me something."

"Ok. I'll play. But I can change something?"

"What is it?" He turns his head to express curiosity. It's rare that people would ask for a change of things while playing, conducting he's the one in charge.

"If I win, I get to have your number."

The salesman is surprised at your boldness to ask him out.

"My number? You could walk out with a hundred thousand won. What could my number offer to you?"

"Well I might see a better prize than money. I see a real piece of art right here." You raised your eyebrow smirking

He smirks at you. This was going to be interesting he thought.

"We have an agreement then?"

You nodded. "I lose, you get a portrait. But if I win..."

"You get my number." The salesman nods smiling. "Five in a row you have to win." He then pulls out two colored orgami tiles of red and blue from his suit jacket.

"What color would you like?"

"Red/blue" you said.

"Alright then. Ladies first."

You look at him and then the ground. 10 in a row you can do this. You took a deep breath and slammed the envelope on the ground. The guy then slams his envelope on the ground flipping yours around.

It created a loud slapping sound and echoed that it startled you. You look up scared he was lying to his word and might actually slap you. You close your eyes and prepare for it.

"What are you doing?" The salesman asks

"Aren't you going to slap me?"

"You don't have to worry. I wouldn't slap a pretty face like yours. I only want a drawing."

Opening your eyes you took a deep breath. At least you wouldn't be slapped.

"1-0" The guys says. You assumed that was his keeping score

You pick up your envelope and roll up your sleeve. You threw it down but it didn't flip the salesmans. He picked his up and slammed it down flipping yours again.

"2-0". Now the chances of getting this guys number seems low and you might look like a fool. You were weren't to give up just yet. You relied on your skills of carrying an easel and so many supplies per day to the game.

Taking a deep breath, you slam down the card and it flipped the guys. You were smiled wanting to jump for joy.

"2-1" You put up 2 fingers with one hand and 1 finger to the guys face.

He said nothing but smirked. Talking wasn't his thing, you noticed. Probably why you found him attractive.

The salesman picks up his card and slams it and your flips over. It was a continuous picking up and flipping cards. You were getting better as the points were getting higher.

Now the score was "7-8". You were becoming tired and kinda wish you were home right now, sleeping. But

The salesman threw down his card and flipped yours. Now it was 8-8. A tie. Just two more and you get his number. You threw yours down and it flipped over. 8-9. Another slam from the guy and it was 9-9.

This was it. You weren't sure you would have enough energy to draw that portrait of his that he wanted. But you needed enough energy to finish this game.

You slammed it down and saw it flipped over. I won, you thought to yourself. Did I actually win? You thought.

"Congratulations. You won ma'am." The salesman smiled.

Those words felt unreal. "Yes! Yes!" You jumped around happy.

"Now, you asked for my number. I suppose you wouldn't have a piece of paper to write down my number, would you?"

What kind of question was that? You were a artist. Blank papers is all you carry. You grab your sketchbook from your bag and a pen to give to him.

He took it from your hands and wrote down his number fast. He gave it back to you and you saw it.

"What do you plan to do with that number, Miss?"

"I was wondering maybe you want to go out?"

"We can do that. Can I pick the place?"

It was the least you could let him do as he offered you money and kept true to his word to give you his money.

"Sure. I'll text you when I'm available. I might see you here too. Who knows?"

He nodded your response smiling.

"You have a good day madam"

"You too" God how you loved how formal he was and calling you madam and ma'am, even though you weren't really that old.

When you went home, you were exhausted but still smiling and excited that you got the guy's number. You texted your name so he could have yours saved as well. You went to bed, wondering what it could lead to. Possibly just one date or even more.

The next day, was the same thing. Wake up, eat breakfast, pack your things and head to the subway. You kept fixing yourself up for the salesman, wondering if he would come by.

He always comes by, you thought. He just has to. You scanned around the subway to see where he is as you didn't want to move your spot. After an hour had passed, it looked like he hadn't been around.

Maybe asking for his number was a bad idea, that he was avoiding to talk to you, you thought. A man walked by and dropped something not that far from you. It looked like money. Seeing this you get up, pick up the bill and try to call out for the man. But it looked like he was already gone. It was

Written in a black permanent marker, it says “Look at your phone ma’am”. Without thinking you check your phone and see a message. Meet me at the park at 4:30 PM. No need to dress so fancy but wear something you feel pretty in.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you couldn’t believe what’s in front of you, more likely what’s on your phone. He’s actually texting you. The weird quiet but handsome black suit guy is texting you. You packed your things and went home and went to get ready to meet him in the park.

It was nothing special that you wore. Just a simple sundress/pantsuit but it was still one of the nicest outfits you had in your wardrobe. You kept wondering just what the man in plan for you. Walking around the park, you see the man still in his suit, hands in front looking around, possibly waiting for you, you thought.

Smiling, you walk up to him. When he sees you, he smiles with no teeth but still showing joy. He reaches out a hand. Looking at it hesitantly, you took his hand. The salesman then took your hand, bowed a little and kissed the back of your hand gently. You felt your heart skipped a beat when he did that.

“Hello ma’am. We meet again.”

“Hi. Were you the person that gave me the bill?”

“Maybe, a beautiful woman like you deserves more.”

Was this a dream? Were you dreaming or is this real. This man seemed to good to be true. You two walked to what would be your first date. The place he picked out for the first date was an art museum. It displayed the finest arts across the worlds and many different paintings. The salesman would ask about each piece and how did it make you feel. You responded to many of his questions but kept looking around. You guys kept talking and asking each other questions to get more acquainted with each other.

After the museum, he took you a some place to eat. Then you guys went to get ice cream. He paid for everything and asked if there’s anywhere else you would like to go. If you tried to pull out your card or even cash to pay for your own things, he would refuse so and said he got everything and that anything you wanted he’ll get for you. It had been late, so he dropped you off home and asked how was everything and if you enjoyed it.

You couldn’t thank him enough for the wonderful day you had comparison to just drawing in a subway for hours. Before you left his car, there was a slight tension between you guys that it could be cut with a knife. The man wanted to say something else but couldn’t stop looking at your lips. Looking at him, you see his hands reach towards your face and cup it as his lips softly touches yours.

His lips were so baby smooth and his cologne was so sharp from his neck, it felt like a gas hyptonixjg you. You cup his face, grazing it with your thumb. He pulls away, still looking at you with such yearning. Your thumb still on his face grazed his lips as you said goodbye and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Ever since that night, you two have been dating. He would take you on dates to other places. Mostly just walks in the park or art related stuff that you like. Your small kisses would turn into small makeouts into something more. He would sometimes, well mostly go over to your place and sleep over. In the mornings he would make breakfast in his underwear. You wish you could draw him right then and there.

He loves to pose for your art or whatever reference you need for your assignment in class. Once a month, he'll take you out to the art store to get whatever supplies you need. Your messy clothing consisted of paint or oil pastel stains is opposite of his clean, ironed and steamed suit. But he loves it either way.

The only time that he was out of the suit was when he was in bed with you. But other than that, you wanted him to be a bit more fun. You wanted to him have more color. Seeing those videos of online of couples doing painting of each others to see both of your art skills.

You begged the salesman to do wit you and he finally agrees. Squealing you get everything ready, canvas, paints, brushes, water and paper towels. You had 10 minutes to try to get each other’s features as accurate as possible

Time passes and both of you guys are done. You show your art of him and it’s him in his suit, pretty accurate and semi realistic but some details were missing. He nods and says it’s impressive of how much you can get done in less than hour.

You ask for his painting and he turns his Canva around and you see you in an almost renaissance like painting. Your mouth dropped and all felt like years of your art skills go away to just 10 minutes.

“What! How’s that even possible? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at art?”

“Well two people can’t be the artists in a relationship. One has to be a muse, to inspire the other.”

You scoffed at his bullshit. He just didn’t want to brag. An idea came in your mind. You grab a paintbrush and leave a stroke of red paint on his face.

“If you want to be a muse, why don’t you have some color on you?”

Smirking, the salesman takes this as a challenge and grabs his paint brush and paints across your face too.

Now you guys were having a paint battle. You tried to paint him more but he lightly grabs your arm and stops you. He leads you the floor, where he’s now on top of you. Seeing this as an opportunity, you grab a bottle of paint that’s open and smeared on his white shirt. He laughs at this and rolls you over where you’re now on top of him, straddling him.

Nothing was said between you both as you kept looking at each other. Like that night of your first date when you guys first kissed. Putting your head down you kiss him and he put his arms around on your back. The paint on your guys’ face mixed with each other. Breath was running out so you decided to stop. Your heart was beating so much just as he was trying to catch his breath too.

Now you’re forever grateful you asked for his number then taking the money. It’s a better reward than what the salesman had to offer you, as you got him, yourself. It felt like a dream come true. Even if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. Everything of being with him was like straight art. Maybe it was meant to be. That day you accidentally dropped your pencils and he came up to you. It could be called fate by others. Fate by design you like to call it.

He was right, one has to be the muse in a relationship and the other an artist. But to him, it was the thing he was missing the most. An new reason to be in the subway that fateful day.

Taglist:

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[buck-star]

Perfect Christmas Tree | B.B

>> Bucky and you are looking for the perfect Christmas tree, little did he know that you analyze the trees toreall find the perfect one. <<

Pairing: Mob!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 1.588 Words

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, more fluff, petnames, even more fluff, a lot of fluff

Authors Note: Divider made by me. I’m back on this account, and I want to thank everyone for your support and everything. It really means a lot, so thank you!

Events: Sweet and Spicy Bingo: Winter Edition [Row Three-Two I Sweater Weather], Fluff Winter Event [Mob I activity: tree chopping]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Are you sure you want this one?” Bucky asks with a chuckle. He looks at you while the two of you are standing next to yet another tree you think is the prettiest. You nod softly, looking the tree up and down before you turn around once more. Bucky laughs softly, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer to him. “How do you want it? Big, tall, small, fluffy?”

You giggle softly, leaning with your back against Bucky's broad chest. He holds an ax in his metal hand while he holds you close with the other. Your eyes scan the trees around you once more; they are all so pretty, and you can't decide which one you really want. Bucky leans his head forward, placing his chin on your shoulder and looking around with you.

He never thought he would chop his Christmas trees himself; he didn't even buy them himself the last few years. But now there he is, standing in a sort of forest, ax in his hand and his girl trying to find out which tree could be the best. Bucky didn't even bother decorating himself, but since he met you, his world changed for the better, and he’s willing to do all the stuff he missed out on all those years.

“Which do you like the best?” You ask, craning your neck to look at your boyfriend. He looks around, his ocean blue eyes roaming over all the trees, and stops when he meets your gaze again. The soft smile that curls your lips upwards makes his heart flutter, and he has to force himself to look away from you to answer your question.

“They are all—” He interrupts himself, a low chuckle leaving his lips. You can feel the vibration in your back, and Bucky pulls you instinctively closer while he keeps chuckling. “Trees. They are green, have different sizes, but they are all… How do you decide if a tree is pretty or good?”

You gasp, wiggling out of Bucky's grip, and he pouts when you take a step backwards to look into his face. Bucky reaches out once more, placing his calloused hand on your hip and trying to pull you closer, but you just look at him with widened eyes and slightly parted lips, still shocked about his question.

“Did you— Did you just ask how you know about the perfect tree?” You ask, looking at him with disbelief. Bucky tilts his head, clearly confused. He nods slowly, finally managing to pull you closer so he's able to hold you tight to his chest again. “The big mobster doesn't know how to pick the perfect Christmas tree; I can't believe it.”

You start laughing softly, and Bucky feels the tension slowly fading. He really wonders why you're that surprised that he doesn't know how to pick out the perfect tree; he's a busy man, after all. But at the same time he missed those little things he didn't do before he met you. The activities he didn't do because he was too busy or just thought it wasn't as fun, and he could keep working to do something that made sense to him. Until you, and suddenly even watching a cheesy movie or just going on a walk in the rain to dance are something that makes more sense than working all day — it's not a waste of time in his mind anymore; it's the joy of love and with his love.

“To be honest, I let my man decide on a Christmas tree, and they decorated it. I just paid for that stuff, and they did it for me,” Bucky confesses. His hand is softly moving up and down your side. His ocean blue eyes are soft when he looks into yours, a soft smirk creeping onto his lips. “But then there was you, and the way your eyes glistened when we watched those movies where they did all that stuff, and the way you talked about everything you love. It was just so precious, and I didn't want to be your fantasy or the movies to bring that glistening in your eyes. I wanted to make you look like that, happy and like nothing in this world could ever steal your smile off your lips.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you take a shaky breath. You thought Bucky didn't do much during the holiday seasons, but maybe a bit. But the way he confessed to you so much more than just the fact that he didn't buy his Christmas tree himself made your heart beat even faster.

“Now you have to bear with me not knowing how to find the perfect Christmas tree,” he chuckles. Bucky leans closer, pressing his lips softly against yours. Your cold noses are pressing softly against one another, making you giggle softly. When you pull away, Bucky keeps you close to him, kissing his way up and down your cheeks. “Don't want those tears to become ice, do we?”

You chuckle, pecking his lips before you turn around in his arm to start the lesson of ‘how to find the perfect Christmas tree'. Bucky laughs softly, his chin resting on top of your head, and he follows your fingers pointing at a bunch of trees. While you explain why this tree could be perfect but also why it may not be perfect.

“So, over there, what do you think?” You ask, pointing at a tree you haven't seen until yet. It's a pretty one, but before you pull him to this one, you want him to explain why this Christmas tree could be the perfect one.

Bucky clears his throat, amused and amazed at how much one can analyze a tree. But he liked it; it's another kind of way to look at them, a way he never considered before. “Okay, so it could be the perfect one because it's bigger than you— wait, do you want a tree that could compare to me?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Of course, you like your trees bigger than yourself, but not because they're as big as Bucky. Expect you could cuddle with the tree when Bucky’s in a meeting.

“So, it's as big as I am, maybe even bigger. That's a plus point. It's not too big, but there is enough space for all the decorations. The lights would fit perfectly as well, and you could see them perfectly. So I guess this tree is the perfect one, isn't it?” Bucky keeps explaining, and you nod. He listened perfectly to what you said, and now he knows if a Christmas tree is perfect. “But you know the difference between ‘I like you’ and ‘I love you’?

You turn your head, narrowing your eyes in confusion. Bucky chuckles at your expression, keeping his firm grip around you while he looks at the tree and back at you with a soft smile. “I do, but what does it have to do with a Christmas tree?”

“If you like a flower, you pick it. But if you love a flower, you give her water so she can keep growing. If you like a tree, you chop it, but if you love a tree—” Bucky interrupts himself, waiting for you to finish his sentence.

“You don't chop it, but then someone else is chopping it?” You wonder, not understanding what Bucky was trying to say. He laughs, his laugh soft but slightly rough. It immediately sends shivers through your body; you could listen to him laughing all the time; it sounds just so precious and perfect, and you're one of the few people who's able to make the mobster laugh like that.

“No, I think we should get the tree because the glistening in your eyes tells me that's the one. But I think we need to get the whole tree, and after Christmas we will plant it in the front yard and make it a tradition to decorate it every year as well as the house so everyone who walks by at Christmas can admire our tree too. It would be our tree, the symbol of our love for eternity.” He tells you, pressing his lips to the top of your head while he walks with you in front of you and tightly against his chest to the tree the two of you decide to be the perfect.

“You watched too many cheesy movies,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours to walk next to him. Bucky shrugs, smirking. His eyes never leave yours while yours are on the tree, making sure no one is going to steal your tree.

“Guess I just found my soft spot for you,” he mumbles, looking around for a moment. Bucky waves at a guy, motioning to the shovel in his hand. He then turns back to you. “That's the tree we want now?”

“That's the tree that's the symbol of our love,” you repeat Bucky's words, making him laugh once again. He didn’t know it could be that fun, but he's looking forward to the ugly hoodie thing you mentioned and all the other stuff.

“For eternity,” he adds, smirking as you roll your eyes playfully. “Can't escape me, babydoll. My precious girl.” He mumbles, his heart pounding faster as he watches the sparkle in your eyes, the happiness and joy — and Bucky feels the love when he remembers that he's the reason for all the happiness you feel; he's your joy, your love.

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @kandis-mom @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

[hexhomos]

Kiss on the check accepted! :3c

And your response reminded me of a detail I always pick up on rewatches but hadn't fully untangled yet—in the flashback of her childhood, Mel steps into that broken throne room with blood still drying on it. At Ambessa's prompting, Mel goes right into talking about how to renovate the place. "Paint the walls gold"...like gilding over the horrors of conquest that got that power in the first place.

And when she describes the regent they should have, she finishes with, "she should be pliant, so we can mold her." That IS what she was doing with Jayce, slowly, over a decade, and then quickly through Acts 2 and 3.

And then in the scene, after Mel finishes describing a "pliant" regent who can be molded, her mother suggests MEL could be that regent. Young Mel is excited at the idea, entirely missing the implication that she too would be an asset of her mother's reign.

That's why she takes off her Medarda ring right before casting her vote for Zaun's independence. She's finally realized she's just as subject to her mother's games as anyone else and Chooses to stop working in the interests of her family's power.

And augh, I wish her s2 plotline hadn't taken her out of Piltover so we could have seen more of the spycraft against Ambessa she was up to in Arc 1. I can't help but think of how much stronger her confrontation with Ambessa would have been if we had a full season of "daughter works against mother" instead of just a few scenes and a lot of getting kidnapped. More ambiguity with Leblanc would've been great too instead of her killing Elora to say hello.

[continued from here]

EXACTLY the way they shafted the politics in s2 (specifically so they wouldn't need to have hard conversations) genuinely had a negative impact in the ENTIRE story. The systematic horrors were downplayed and plotlines were dropped with very short acknowledgements - this is why we get people complaining about the jayce/mel breakup scene "coming out of nowhere" despite the fact that it made perfect sense for these characters!!!!!! It was just too short and they changed the subject too quickly, so we don't have TIME to think about the economic issues again.

It's so clear to me that jayce, viktor, ekko, mel (each representing a diff political facet. curious!) etc were carefully removed from the actual real world so we never have to analyze or push back against the notion that cait/ambessa are doing a hostile military coup and HAVE gotten people killed, imprisoned, and tortured en masse. So they can neatly resolve all of the plot with an avengers-style montage and never talk about the stuff with real world implications. There is no war in piltover and zaun. Just a cartoony last second villain. We just need to unite to protect... piltover...? And now viktor is randomly forgetting his proud zaunite commie stance and teaming up with the imperial invaders that were plaguing the earth moments ago........? We never talk about the class inequality ever again? Forget everything. Nothing ever matters.

The end result was that we spent far less time with these characters and they ended up being pretty underdeveloped. I know this happened for marketing reasons, its so incredibly clear aspects of the story were dumbed down so they could sell more ingame skins or pitch new champions, and that was seen as more valuable and desirable for the company than politicking - because at heart riot don't care about the political stuff anyway. But it still makes me throw my hands up in the air. such an asspull

In a reality where we had enough time and investment to touch on this, Mel could have actually gotten to push back against ambessa/cait and directly deal with the consequences of her actions. SEVIKA could have gotten a proper payoff for her underground character arc, instead of vanishing halfway through and then randomly accepting a diversity hire seat on the council (insanity. that was insanity) Ekko and the firelights would have obviously played a key role in rallying people against ambessa and helping Jinx recover from her displacement crisis (sorry isha, but even you could have been better used as part of the firelights dilemma) Jayce's mounting disillusionment with piltover and his loyalty to Viktor would be much better explored if they were still in conversation about the cities, the world they wanted to help, and the chaotic blurry lines of personhood/citizenship that decide who is an 'acceptable' target under the fist of the state. Vi could have built a self-reliant identity for herself, something better to fight for that isnt 'being a cop'. This show could've been awesome. I wish it existed

[fatbiatchforever]

Worry Worry

Bucky called out for you just as you entered, "Baby?"

You closed the door behind you.

Bucky peaked out of the kitchen with a smile plastered on his face, "Heyyy,"

You meekly smiled at him, "Hi."

You heard a drop, before he appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on the apron, "Are you ok?"

You nodded.

Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrap around his biceps, as you looked up to meet his careful eyes, 

"Y/N,"

"Buck,"

He pressed his lips on your forehead, "You'll tell me if something is wrong, right?"

"Mhm," 

You leaned into his touch, just for a second. 

You pulled back and walked away with your back towards him, 

"I'm going to take a shower, do you need help with dinner?"

"No." Bucky continued, "Doll?"

You turned to him, "Yep?"

He looked at you, his eyes making you nervous.

"Buck?"

The intensity decreased this time, "Do you want me to get you ice-cream? We're out of it."

You smiled, "No, I'm okay, don't worry."

You basically ran out of the room before he could stare at you more. 

You knew you were doing the right thing. Right?

Before you could analyze your choices more, you got out of the shower and gave yourself a pep talk. 

You are NOT going to break. How hard is it to keep a secret from him? You're a strong, independent wom-

"Doll?"

Fuck

You walked out of the room, with the fakest smile plastered on your face. If anything, this whole thing proved that you have no future in acting.

"Damn, this looks good!"

You went through your usual convos way too quickly today. You tried engaging him with random stuff but you knew he wasn't buying any of it. After ten minutes, your eyes were glued to your plate and his were on you. 

You looked up, "Food's really good."

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

You looked up again and looked back immediately down. It was starting to annoy you, why was he staring into your soul?

"Can you stop?"

Bucky kept his beer down, "Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

You scoffed, "Like this," you did the best Bucky impression you could, but he wasn't impressed. He frowned, "I don't look like that."

"Well, next time go check yourself in the mirror when you do it, WHICH IS ALL THE TIME."

"What's wrong?"

The questioned angered you more. You didn't like that he was pushing you.

"Nothing."

"Doll,"

"I'm done."

You get up to clear your side of the table.

"Fine, don't tell me."

You turned to him, "Oh, is this annoying to you? When someone won't just say what's bothering them. I can't imagine how you must feel."

You hated it as soon as it came out of your mouth. Not that you showed it to him, you turned back to close the dishwasher and walked to your room.

You were fuming at him and yourself. Maybe you blew this way out of proportion. 

After a weak try to get through your night routine, you plopped under your covers, hoping it would hide you from the mess you made. 

You followed his every step outside though. Him cleaning up, his night checks before he heads to bed, his footsteps getting closer to the bedroom, him shuffling around the room before he settled in.

You laid there in silence, in the dark, for a while, confused about how to start, worrying if he was mad or hurt by what you said or the way you acted. 

"I'm sorry."

Silence followed. You fucked up, BIG TIME.

Your eyes watered, but then he turned. He turned and hugged you. This was the last straw for you, you couldn't help but break in his arms. The stress of the day, the stress of hiding things from him and the guilt, it all hit you like thousand bricks.

You turned to face him and hugged him tightly. He held you through it. He let you cry into his chest as he ran his hand on your back, soothingly. 

You sniffed, "I got your shirt all wet."

He laughed, "That's okay."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears, "I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't. I don't mind waiting for you to open up."

"I know, I've seen it doll. You don't have to say anything."

"I'm sorry, I really love you and," your voice cracked, your eyes were watering up again.

He held you closer, "I love you too. It's ok, I promise, I'm not hurt."

You pulled away to turn on the lamp.

"I need to tell you something."

He sat straight, looking at you intently.

"So I went out to get lunch. You know the cute cafe that opened nearby?"

"Yeah?"

"That one. Did you know they have another branch at-"

"Doll," 

"Right, so when I was walking I felt like someone was following me."

Bucky immediately tensed up, his eyes widened,

"Buck, I'm fine. I'm here."

You hold his arm, trying to calm him down, but it didn't help.

"What happened Y/N?" He asked sternly, his voice no longer understanding or calming.

"I walked a little more to see if it was in my head. Turns out, it wasn't." You paused, knowing the next part was going to make it even more worse, "I- I tried calling you but,"

"Fuck." Bucky said under his breath. He pulled back, "Fuck, I didn't pick up your call because of the meeting."

"Bucky, I'm fine."

"Something could have happened to you and I didn't pick up when you needed me."

"Buck," you moved closer, but he wasn't having any of it, "What did you do?"

"I called Sam. He told me to wait for him at a restaurant nearby. He was on the call the whole time. He came, we spoke about what happened and he said he was going to look into it. He left me back to the office and even came back to drop me home."

Bucky was ticked off, you saw it on his face, his jaws clenched and his voice heavy, "I saw him before I got out, why didn't he tell me?"

You remained silent.

"Why didn't he tell me Y/N?"

"I told him not to."

Bucky stood up, but you reached out for his hand, "Buck, I wanted to tell you. I knew it would freak you out and make you spiral out of control. I wanted to be the one to break the news to you. It's not a big deal, I-"

"You getting followed is a big deal Y/N. The biggest fucking deal." He said each word slowly and clearly.

He paced around the room, muttering under his breathe.

"I'll stay home and work. I won't go out alone. We'll be fine."

"No, we need to move. We're staying at the headquarters for a bit, till I figure this out. We need to get new numbers-"

"Change my face too while we're at it?"

Bucky's look immediately shut you up. 

"Why didn't you tell me immediately? Why did you try to hide it?"

You pointed at him, "This. I knew you would worry and I don't know, I just didn't how to say this without you worrying."

You looked down, cursing whoever followed you for ruining the peace you had going on.

The bed dipped beside you, "Y/N?"

You looked at him. He no longer looked angry. He looked worried, nervous, "Are you ok?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine Buck. I promise."

"I'm sorry for not being there for you. I should've been there."

"You didn't know. You think I don't know that the minute I mention I need you, you won't be there in a heart beat? I know that Buck, I know you'll be there for me."

"I'm always going to worry about you. You're my, my everything, Y/N. My job is to protect you, everything else comes after."

"Technically, your job is to protect the world."

Bucky's eyes softens, "You're my world,"

You pulled him into a hug, a tight one, "Cheesy, but fine."

Bucky chuckles. 

You look at him, "Are you mad?"

"Not at you."

"At Sam?"

"Not for you to worry about."

"Buck, I told-"

Bucky's lips brushed yours softly. You sighed into him, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. The kiss deepened, each exploring the other with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

He slowly pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, "We'll figure this out together."