#even the hardest subjects are still Achievable to me

[star-mum]

absolutely humiliating having a mATH TEST IN THIS COURSE

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/765691014325452800/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7656128619764121

Hi Rain!

So here is how I see it (mostly my subjective speculations of course)

BSH had this troublemaker free spirit in his hands. On one hand, he knew what a huge and unique potential Tae had (as visual, character, artistry etc) so he couldn’t leave him out. But on the other hand, he knew that Tae would be the hardest to control. So what to do? He made sure to control him through the people Tae cares (his bandmates), treat him as an afterthought to beat his self confidence, make him feel like he is not needed but try to use him for your gain with the amount you want and all that manipulate games…

Tae shouldn’t be too front to shadow others but also intriguing enough to draw new audiences (it is well known and accepted that DNA was the breakthrough, a first step to worldwide success and guess who mostly caught new audiences eyes first?) so Tae has been a double edged sword since the beginning. His unique qualities and free spirit is what draw the audience but also make him difficult to control. Do you remember Tae’s birthday live when he was spoiling his songs and when staff reacted to that he said "what can company do? Fire me?" That was the self confidence that BSH was afraid of but well… :)

Imo, at the beginning, other guys tried to keep him under control but then they also (probably) realized all those control attempts were suffocating Tae and they were losing him anyway (hence his leaving attempts in 2018 and sugar’s letter to him and jk). I always think that Suga (especially) kept saying either 7 or 0 for the fans but also a message to company that they are all or nothing. Especially things changed when JK clearly stand on his side, imo, that changed the balance a LOT.

Once they (or most of them) backed him, BSH didn’t have much in his hands but manipulate him from outside… And because of his very good communication skils, that also didn’t work that well, imo. Because I remember many instances that can ended any idol’s career didn’t work on Tae at all (his smoking pictures, friend zoning fans from the get go, that airport scene when he reacted to stalker and lastly suing that woman with JK etc etc) He was seen as a disobedient rebel all along anyway, so in a way, this image saved him and bite BSH in the ass.

And Tae has been very smart in solo period, creating his own connections, making friends with important people in SK entertainment business as well as international brands (I think he didn’t have enough time to work on international part but I am sure he will after ms) he focused on entertainment shows to present himself directly to the audience as Kim Taehyung and it mostly worked. He is in the military and still on the news. And this Hybe situation is a mess and I know there is a manipulation operation on him to make him the bad guy but I don’t think it works. Any sane person can see that he has been a victim of the company and he stood his ground grounds.

Hi anon!

Sorry for having you wait for a reply for a couple of days (weird week, I wasn’t in the right headspace.. I’m fine now 😊). I’m gonna leave your thoughts here and just add my own, I think we find some overlap there.

I feel Bang Pd is a selfish and quite possibly an actual narcissistic person (though ofcourse it’s hard to diagnose). The way he inserts himself in footage, the way he uses members achievements to prop up himself, the abuse I think his artists go through. I think he’s ruthless. What you often see with narcissists, is how they will hate someone who takes away their sense of importance. I think, by Tae being Tae even at a young age, that’s what happened. I think Tae’s freespiritness and the way he carried him and just attracts attention might’ve irked Bang Pd early on. Him not having known Tae’s name for a year, to me feels like he wanted to make Tae feel small. The decision to have him be a hidden member, also made Tae feel small. I think he listened to his advisors and knew from a business perspective Tae is valuable, but he needed to mold him into someone he could just use. He probably wasn’t open about it, and he was probably even able to argue why he needed things to be the way they were, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see some personal dislike there at all. It’s total speculation from my side, but I think Tae played to Bang Pd’s insecurities just by being himself… and that’s why Tae never got the full spotlight. It can’t be his lack of talent, it can’t be his personality, it can’t be his working ethics.. so yeah.. I’m putting my money on it being unfair.

Now I think all members have had their own issues that they had to deal with. The music industry is an environment that I think causes hurt in many different ways (body image issues, eating disorders, anxiety, depression, mental abuse, physical abuse, forced substance abuse, lack of medical care, homophobia, closeting, forced plastic surgery, and the list goes on and on). I’m not saying all members went to any of these things, but I also think it’s naive to think only Tae has suffered from the hands of the company… and I just wanted to shine a light on that as well. We don’t know what goes on behind doors and we cannot know all the different waya the members have suffered. We ofcourse focus on Tae and Jk, but Tae and Jk are just a part of BTS and it’s absolutely realistic in my eyes that they as a band had to have all of their backs at some point. I think for instance that a lot of Jk’s care and concern towards Jm comes from Jk knowing when Jm has it tough (a different kind of tough, but tough nonetheless). I think they all know how tough Namjoon had it and they made attempts to, if only momentarily, lighten the load for him. I do think at one point they decided it’s 7 or nothing.. and imo that moment was probably heightened at the 2018 talks. I don’t think it was just Tae and Jk who were considering leaving, but probably several of them on different levels of seriousness. I do think there was a whole different level of concern and doubt present with Tae and Jk. For them signing on again meant having to keep hiding for the length of their new contract. That’s not an easy thing to sign on for, but them loving what they do (performing) and wanting a long career, knowing the other members have their backs must’ve made up their minds for them.

I’ve seen discussion on the other members having let the company abuse and neglect Tae, and I was saddened by that. Because, it goes against what Tae himself does. He signed on again for the members. I think that statement to some maybe doesn’t carry the weight it should. Imo it doesn’t mean that Tae signed on because he felt he owed it to them. Had he not genuinely felt they have his back and has he himself felt they leave him at the mercy of the company.. he would have left them. Because even though he has no say in some things, I do believe the power to resign lies with him and I think him capable of making good decisions for himself. I think the members make Tae feel like it’s worth it. I think they build him up, they comfort him, they value him, they make him feel like he belongs. That’s what they all do for each other.

As to Tae and Jk, I think most likely they suffered in equal but different ways. Not only would they be affected by what the other goes through, but both of them have had to hide and do things to keep hidden. Both of them have felt the same pressure and, though in different ways, Jk has also been used by the company. We talk about Tae being a free spirit, but I think Jk is also one. Jk isn’t able to fully Jk as much as Tae isn’t able to fully Tae. Jk’s music might’ve been pushed by the company in ways that Tae will never be, but his achievements have been taken and used for Bang Pd’s benefit. They talk about him as if he’s their creation. Jk’s insecurities about why people love him, don’t just come from nowhere. He’s been made to believe he has to fit a mold. I think the members all flocked around them, because they actually know and love them both and because they recognize (all of them, because they themselves are in it too) how wrong the company is.

I think the company’s main goal and interest lies in BTS as a group. I think these solo projects have been hugely used to keep fandom interest up (as has Taennie, as has Ays) and they fully want to collect every last drop of money they can before BTS goes on hiatus or whatever form they take on after reunion. They probably already suspect which members will sign on individually and which won’t.. which might explain the different levels of company push.

I probably went all kind of ways here (always fun to see my adhd reflected in my writing 🙈). There’s so much more to say, because it’s not a simple situation at all. There’s probably things at play none of us can even imagine.

[nattspencer]

Awakening

Lady Lesso X Reader

Summary: Always competing with Lesso for the first of the class, the red head finally demands to have the Reader’s mother diary.

A/N: English is not my first language, I’m really sorry for any mistakes. This took me forever to write and to be honest I didn’t quite like the result, i’m really sorry for whoever requested this story but beilieve me, that was the best I could pull off, also, sorry for taking it so long. As always, I’ll still be trying my best to write great stories, so if you have any ideas and want to send me a request, I might take long, but I’ll try my best!

Warnings: bad language, mentios of smut, betrayal, angst, fluffy parts, no happy ending

Word count: 3.6k

The GIF is not mine.

          Some days you wish just not to have been born at all. Being the daughter of someone so well known, feared and respected like your mother meant that there was always a huge amount of pressure on top of you, even when you were just a kid, for you to be the best of the new generation, to achieve what your mother couldn’t, to bring evil to its golden age, or better, to its darkest age, to do what no one else could and bring glory to your family. And seriously? You couldn’t hate more all of this bullshit.

          Not that you didn’t want to be great, powerful or evil, no, the sight of people being tortured, terrified and broken was just too amusing to resist, the screams were your lullaby, you definitely wanted all of that, however, all of the pressure about it on top of your own perfectionism absolutely drives you crazy. One thing was wanting to be great, another completely different thing was to be demanded to be great, otherwise you would bring disgrace to the name of your mother, foreshadow all of what she accomplished and bury her legacy into forgetfulness.

          The days where the pressure became too hard to bear by yourself were the days you missed your home the most. Diablo of course always put that states for your raising and education way up high in the stratosphere, always urging to unleash the very bad parts of you, just as your mother would wish if she were alive, nevertheless, he was also your rock, your safe place to crumble, to put yourself back together again, and safety was definitely the hardest thing to have when you were a Never. Trust no one, that was the ultimate rule.

          Surrounded by people yet always lonely, that was the fate assigned for you. Don’t get me wrong, you had your fair pair of friends that actually seemed very loyal to you, however none of them scored as high as you on the tests, and you knew better than trusting blindly on people, that was an Ever’s thing to do. Deep down you worried that they were only your friend because you had been given your mother’s diary, which among other things, contained tips and tests questions about every single subject in the school. 

          All this worry and caution nonetheless, were unconsciously thrown up in the air when the subject was a silly smart devious reader that had been battling with you for the number one position in your classes. Leonora of woods beyond, now Lady Lesso, was the furthest and the closest thing of a true friend you had. Furthest because you were always fighting, teasing and deriding each other, she was absolutely infuriating and would do everything in her power to outrival you. Closest because she was the only one that actually understood you, your only company to your cold sleepless studying nights, and something within you just… liked her.

          Something also tells you that she might not despise you as much as she tries to portray. It wasn’t rare to find yourself waking up in the library with an unknown warm blanket resting carefully upon your shoulders, the scent of ginger tea and petrichor intoxicating your senses, lulling you into a peaceful, deserving sleep. Somehow you never had any of your usual nightmares in these nights, of course, you blamed your unbelievable state of tiredness, never fully wanting to admit how much the redhead had grown on you.

          Your own blanket also rested on her shoulders a few times, the library as the whole school of evil was especially uncomfortably cold at the late hours, and you would never just see her shivering body shrink and do nothing about it, maybe if she was someone else. 

          Returning the given blankets back, however, was a particularly fun activity to do. None of you wanted to lose and admit that they were grateful for the small gesture, so it always led to an insane battle of flirting and teasing that was amusing for both of you.

          “Here, your blanket, little dove” You said handing her black fluffy blanket back, for some reason you slept with it the whole night, even when you were at your own dorm.

          “Oh, did it serve well the damsel in distress?” Lesso said with a snare smile and a raised eyebrow.

          “It did my mighty knight, it was really comforting and cozy, thank you for caring so much for little old me, I might be growing a little too big in that rotten heart of yours” Your voice was in a higher pitch, trying to impersonate the way some ever princess speak.

          “My, my, rotten heart, you really say the most delightful things baby girl, maybe your mouth isn’t so bad after all” Her left hand pressed against the stone wall with her weight at the side of your head, half trapping you there.

          “Oh no, my mouth is as bad as its owner, but that doesn't mean it can’t drive you crazy” A mischievous smile painted your lips.

          “You bark a lot little minx, your bite must not be so exquisite after all” Your faces were inches apart and challenge was dancing in your and Lesso’s eyes, the high difference making her look slightly down.

          “Who knows? I haven’t heard any complains tho” You shrug.

          “Low standards is definitely something around this place” Lesso says leaning backwards and dropping her hand from the wall, recomposing herself in a indifference façade.

          “Guess you would have to find it for yourself. Too afraid you might like it a little too much?” Your hands boldly touches underneath her chin in a father like motion.

          “You wish” The last thing you see is a dramatic roll of her eyes before she starts walking again, her blanket between her hands.

          Sometimes, just like now when she wasn’t looking or paying any attention, you got the strange habit of noticing the little things about her. You could draw by heart the shape of her back, and would recognize her in any type of crowd. The sharp edges of her face, the beautiful curls of her red cascade, the cruelty and determination in her eyes facing something new, the way her face twists when she can’t quite understand some subject, her habit of slightly taping her long fingers on the desk when she is anxious, well, you could spend hours just naming all of it, actually, thinking about it now, that’s kinda weird, nonetheless you can’t deny, she is absolutely hot. 

          Also, from time to time, you could feel her eager eyes on your figure when you were doing something else, normally it would be just a sting in your spine and when you tried to look back at her she would distracted by some other thing, however, you knew better and caught her looking at you though random reflections in the room once or twice. You always wondered why, maybe she was just trying to have any type of wicked ideas about what her next prank would be, but something about the look in her eyes on those occasions just made your stomach twist and flip on itself. Odd.

          Hundreds of snowflakes fell thick out of the window now, painting everything pale, dead and white. It was the middle of the finals test week, soon enough you would be home with some cozy hot chocolate made by your favorite bird that because of one of your mother’s gifts, could turn itself human to take care of you. Tiredness weighed heavy on your shoulders and more than anything your mother’s diary was your safehouse, not because it had the answers for the test, but because it made you feel closer to her. She passed away when you were only ten years old, and honestly, she could be bad and all, but there wasn’t a single day you didn’t miss her. 

          Two tests left, just this, two tests and you are ready to go. These were the thoughts that kept you going though that day, your eyes were clouded due the lack of sleep and all you wanted was burying yourself in your bed. While returning some books to the library before going to your chambers, you saw her slim figure in one of the desks, Lesso’s hand barely supporting her sleepy head, falling constantly in and out of the morpheus realm. You knew she was just stubborn enough to keep like that for hours, your conscious self decided to just tease and play with her, however, the buried, cover, forbidden, parts of you wanted her to go quickly to bed, she deserved to rest. 

          “As much delicious the sight of you drooling is, I don’t think it’s worth ruining a perfectly good book, especially at the test week” You stood behind her and sneakily bend down to whisper the words in her ear, watching closely her body reacts to you as she startle slightly, making you be able to see in first hand her scruffs’ hair rising.

          “Says the one who doesn’t even have to study by the books. Mommy’s girl is too good for that” The woman said in a monotone voice, her last words dripping with venom while she turned to look directly at you. In response your body straighten and you look down at her seated position.

          “As if I didn’t get to see your ugly face almost every day in this ragged old dusty library. I study as much as you do Lesso, don’t blame my mother’s diary for you being often second best” You knew you hit the wasp nest, but the flame and rage in her eyes just made her so much more attractive. She immediately got up and stared at your eyes, no personal space between you.

          “Say that again to my face” The taller woman dared you inches away from your head, her breath fanning your features sending a chill around your spine and making your stomach twist in a weird way. You could see the devil in her façade and her voice would make any great villain feel like an naive hero.

          “No need for getting all worked up baby girl, you know you always put on a good fight” You smiled, this woman definitely drives you mad, in this villainess mode then, for hades sake she just looks luscious.

          “Don’t underestimate me just because I wasn’t born in this place” She hissed between her teeth.

          “Oh, I would never think of it, I’m well aware of the threat you are” Your left hand drifted between one of her red curls, toying purposelessly with it “Sometimes I wish you were put on the school for good, just to have you as my own witted nemesis” There was a glimmer of desire in your eyes and you could see a fire roaming and dancing behind her own.

          “As much as being good disgusted me, having killing you as my destiny makes me quite amused” Her lips twisted in the most blissful way, full of lust and cruelty.

          “Likewise darling. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll go to sleep as this is a important part of the learning process, and I would recommend you to do the same, if you still wanna put up a good fight tomorrow” You said stepping away from her, your smile never left your lips.

          “Do your worst little Mal” The nickname she gave you after your mother, Maleficent slipped from her mouth in a challenging voice.

          “Oh I always do, hellish dreams, Leonora” That was the last words you said, already on the way to your dorm.

          Your heart was pounding fast on your ribcage as it always does when you get to be this close with the red head, your stomach was equally strange, but there was a large grin painted across your face. Secretly you loved the effect she had on you, and you loved even more the effect you knew you had on her, seeing all her little subtle reactions were more amusing then you dared to admit. 

          Surprisingly calm, that’s how you would define today’s test. It wasn’t easy, actually it was very far from it, only you and Lesso were the ones to put up a fight and get almost all the questions right, however, in the end, as usual, you managed - barely - to beat her and get the first place. If eyes could kill, you would probably be dead by now, normally you wouldn’t care for things like that, but she just gets so much prettier when she is pissed, and you just loved being the one dragging those expressions to the surface. 

          After the test you headed straight to your chambers, as always at this time, you were a bit too exhausted and you already had studied for the last test tomorrow, all you really needed was a big refreshing time of sleep, so when you woke up, you could just go over your notes and be able to do the test with full attention. 

          Fogged minded and sleepy you walk carelessly to your dorm, when suddenly something throws you roughly against the cold hard stone walls of the castle, her scent invading your nostrils as she has a hand painfully tight on your throat. Her breath fanned your face and her sculptural body was tied into yours.

          “Give me the fucking diary” The way she swears just did something between your legs.

          “I don’t think so beauty, that’s private property i’m afraid” You said with a snare smile.

          “And since when a Never cares about it? I want it, I’ll take it, I’ll claim it” The hand on your throat tightness slyly and her left grabbed your face roughly.

          “Oh… did I just make you so very frustrated you needed to assault me for it? Tsc tsc you should study harder little lamb” You said playing with fire.

          “You’re cheating you filthy bitch, you have the fucking answers” Lesso spat the words at your face and you could feel her breath fanning roughly your hair.

          “Oh your mouth really says the most delicious things baby girl. However, I’m afraid I don’t give a fuck, nor our teachers” The snare smile never left your lips, you were supposed to be scared, or concern, or trying to free yourself however, you now find yourself enjoying every single second of it.

          “I could kill you right here right now” Lesso threatens again.

          “But you won’t, because you adore toying with me as much as I adore toying with you” Your left hand is now drafting between her red curls.

          “I can find new pets” She said with a raised eyebrow but a well known smile was creeping on her lips.

          “Not in this school, not in the same way we toy my little pet. You desire me Leonora” Your hand is now caressing her scruff scratching it and pulling it, while your right embraced her waist, dragging her even closer to you, as if it was even possible.

          “The feeling it’s not unilateral, I can see your hungry eyes on little old me every time I get closer” Her right hand left your face and enchase itself on your own waist, while she caressed the skin of your neck with her left thumb, still grabbing your throat.

          “Perhaps we could use this anger of yours to do something way more ravishing” You asked biting your lips at staring at her own.

          “Why do you get so much more attractive like this, fuck-” Her lips crashed on yours harshly and her hands squeezed your waist deliciously, everything in your conscious went black, as all you could feel was her, her body, her hands. 

          Didn’t take long for her tongue to meet yours, and god, it was better than any daydream you could ever dare to have. You let her dominate while a deep moan ripper though your throat making her groan in response. The cold weather of the castle faded, everything turned hot as flaming blazes roamed in a decaying empire and both of your bodies weld like cast iron. 

          When air was needed and the kiss needed to be broken, Lesso’s devious mouth didn’t dare to rest. It traveled sinuously down to your neck, kissing, sucking, biting, bruising everything along the way as you gasp for air. Half of your fogged mind remind you that you were in the middle of the dark corridor near your room and if someone passed by you would be screwed, and not in a good way, but damn, it was so fucking hard to think anything coherent when she was almost eating your neck off.

          “Less- Leo-” You tried to say when a moan erupted on your throat as she just sucked the right place “My room. Now” That was all you could manage to say.

          “Lead” She said, detaching from your neck and looking at your eyes, breathless. 

          Taking a long deep breath, you grabbed her collar and dragged her towards your room. As soon as you arrived you opened the door and pushed her roughly in, closing it behind you as you pinning her, your mouth finding its way to its newest addiction, her own.

          No sound will ever be as pleasant as the sound of her voice issuing the lowest notes as she moans delightfully, when your mouth finds the right spots on her neck, sucking and abusing her skin just as she did with yours. 

          In that room evening turned into night as the hours faded in pure pleasure. You and Lesso fucked, had sex and loved eachother blissfully as you toggle between showing your truest feelings and succumb into the deepest pleasure full of roughness and devilish delight. You didn’t count how many times you and her cummed together, how many times you felt her taste and she felt yours, however you only stopped when your bodies couldn’t physically keep up with your desire, and begged you to give yourselves up to the sound sleep waiting for you.

          A wet red mane was spreaded across your sweat chest, as Leonora’s body rested tangled on yours. Your right hand gently caressed her scalp, and your left drew incomprehensible symbols on the small of her naked back. Only a thin sheet covered half of your bodies and for the first time in many many months, you finally felt at home, with her in your arms. 

          “I wish we fought less” You said almost in a whisper, staring at the ceiling.

          “Why?” Lesso asks sleepy.

          “So I could finally get to really know you” Your eyes drift slowly towards her “Not only by your mannerisms. I see you Leo. But I wish I could truly talk to you, get to know how you truly are without the shell you and I have built to ourselves”

          “Leo?” She asked raising her head from your chest and facing you.

          “Yeah, sorry, nevermind, forget what I said” Your eyes avoid her and the ceiling looks suddenly so much more interesting.

          “No, I like it” Lesso gently turns your head towards her, her eyes so much softer than you ever saw “My mom used to call me Leo” She confesses.

          “Can I call you like that?”

          “Only when we are alone”

          “Only when we are alone” You repeat as she lays again against you.

          “I see you too” 

          “What?” You ask gently.

          “I see the little things you do, how you try your best in everything you do, how your eyes frown when something doesn’t go as you expected, how you smile slightly when some of your friends achieve good grades” She sighs “What I wanna say is that I see you, and I like what I see”

          “I really like you too”

          “Maybe when this test week is over, we could have a lunch, and maybe we could talk, in that silly way you want”

          “Good”

          “Good” That was the last thing you said and heard before the tiredness came over your body and you surrendered to Morpheus' realm.

          That night was so much more than you could ever dared to dream, however, the higher you get, the greater the fall. A hot unpleasant ray of sunshine striked your face rudely, making you wake up annoyed and almost blind by the strong light that came through the window. You sit down lazely and rub your eyes, realization hits you as Leonora can’t be found nowhere, the drawer you kept your mother’s diary laying open, broken into, just as the piece of your dying heart shattered. 

          You should know better. You are a N.E.V.E.R, you only get nightmares, not dreams, and it was as if the destiny wanted to show where you belong, what is your place, as someone who doesn’t deserve a happy ending, as an rotting person who is dead long before your heart strikes for the last time. You are not loved, everyone who loved you is dead, and soon Diablo will be too, so you are left there, alone, as it was supposed to be.

          While tears stream down your face and you die a little more, all you managed to do was to clap your hands. Well played Lesso, toying with one just to get what you want, betraying their trust, using them, making them feel loved, god that was just the cherry on top, so cruel, so perfect, it was a masterpiece indeed. Any teacher would be proud of her, and she definitely got first place this time, but you will make sure it is the last one. Every villain needs an awakening, she was yours. Even if your rotting heart dares to love her, you would rip it from your chest and bury it, you don’t deserve happiness anyways.

[btskitten7]

Silent Grace| ix : "Reunion" p. i

Ship: Min Yoongi x Fem reader

au/genre: Mafia!au

rating: M

wc: 2.4k (4.8k total)

Chapter warnings: MAJOR FIGHT AND BLOOD MENTIONS if there is anything else I will come back and put it:(

summary: Yoongi continues to open up little by little with you, one of the hardest things he has done to date. You decided to trust Yoongi and quit your job. You have a nice dinner date but it's rudely interrupted.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast

“Your dad is pretty hard on you because of that night?” you asked gently, understanding that this is still a touchy subject. Yoongi hummed. 

“Yeah. I could hardly go anywhere and when I could, on the rare occasion, my father had his men follow me everywhere. I didn’t have much of a life after that. I understand why he did it but that and that night took a mental toll on me. It pushed me not to pursue this lifestyle. It’s one of the reasons I took up music. Producing and writing are something I love. I wish I had time to work on it a little more.” 

You nodded taking the time to think about the next question you were about to ask, unsure if you should even ask. 

“So this why you locked your office? I couldn’t go in there because of this?” you asked. “Not because of a secret business idea?” 

Yoongi nodded. 

“A lot goes on in that office, more than just files and meetings. Sometimes things happen, I just…” Yoongi starts, “I just rather you not walk in on them.” 

~~~~~~

The dimly lit home office of Min Yoongi, once grand and beautiful was cloaked in an eerie silence, with only the soft hum of an antique desk fan pervading the stifling air. The room exuded an aura of power, adorned with expensive blank marble furniture and walls lined with frames displaying Min Yoong's achievements within the ranks of organized crime. In this fortress of darkness, Yoong's two trusted confidants, Seokjin and Namjoon, stood sentinel, awaiting their boss's entrance.

Crisp footsteps reverberated through the room as Min Yoongi, an imposing figure in an impeccably tailored suit, finally emerged from behind the intricately carved door. Yoongi was called while on a date with you.

From time to time, Yoongi likes to visit you when you work the night shift. He’ll sit with you for your lunch and just soak up every ounce of you he could. He always orders everyone not to call him during this time, but it seems this was just too important to ignore, even if he was with you. His piercing gaze swept over Seokjin and Namjoon, who stood at attention, their faces masked in determination.

"I hear someone thought it would be wise to steal from me,"

Yoongi's voice crooned, as he leaned against the edge of his desk, exuding an unsettling charm. His eyes flickered with a dangerous gleam as he regarded his lieutenants. Both Seokjin and Namjoon exchanged glances, each mirroring the other's resolve. They had sworn a blood oath to protect their boss and preserve the integrity of his empire but more importantly, their best friend.

The thief would be made an example of, a testament to the ruthlessness that awaited any who dared challenge the reign of Min Yoongi."Yes, boss," Seokjin replied, honing in on the coldness in his voice, ready to fulfill his duty. "We've gathered information about him and his whereabouts. The insolent rat is currently holed up in a rundown apartment not far from here. It seems his wife and daughter haven’t seen him in weeks."

“Wasn’t he supposed to be on watch at the hospital with Jungkook?” Yoongi asked with a raised eyebrow before looking down at the Sliver picture frame that held his favorite picture of you and him. “Yes, tonight was his night” Seokjin added. 

“Hmm, so not only did he steal from me and he also put my Blossom’s life in danger, but he neglected his daughter? Isn’t she three or four?” Yoongi asked pouring him a shot of the brown liquor that sat in his small bar. “ All because of what exactly?” 

“It seems he has a gambling addiction. He owes quite a few people money.” Namjoon answered. “Does he at least win?” Yoongi asked Namjoon and Seokjin laughed before shaking their head. Yoongi kissed his teeth and shook his head. “That’s quite sad. I was hoping for a better explanation than that and he would have at least won something for his efforts” 

Namjoon, his eyes alight with unwavering loyalty, added, "We have a team stationed outside, ready to move in and apprehend the criminal at any moment just in case he feels a little froggy."

A sinister smile danced across Yoongi's lips as he straightened, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished surface of his desk. "Good. Let’s show him the consequences of crossing the one who graciously feeds him."

The trio moved with silent precision, their steps punctuated by anticipation as they made their way toward the car parked discreetly outside Yoongi's lavish mansion. Seokjin took the wheel, his hands gripping the leather steering wheel with unyielding determination, while Namjoon sat in the passenger seat, his mind calculating the steps needed to extract every ounce of information from their victim. As the engine roared to life, dark energy permeated the vehicle, an unspoken alliance forged in the fires of loyalty. No words were necessary between the men; their shared mission spoke clearly through the intensity etched in their features. Their journey was marred by an eerie silence, the quiet anticipation of a confrontation looming large in the confined space. The scent of blood and retribution filled their nostrils, fueling their resolve as they prepared to take matters into their own hands. 

Only one thing was troubling Namjoon and he was going to voice it. “Yoongi” 

Yoongi turned from the window and met Namjoon’s gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“Why didn’t you do the same to Jungkook? He’s proven himself useful, of course, but the only difference is, that he didn’t steal money.” Namjoon asked. Yoongi nodded. “There is a difference though, my friend.”

The man frowns slightly as he tries to understand. ‘I’m not following” 

“Jungkook stole for a cause. He wanted to see his mother smile. This man did not have a cause. He stole for his mishap. He tried to cover his ass. Jungkook didn’t know who I was. Quite frankly, I would have done the same.”

The run-down apartment came into view, a hovel nestled amidst a sea of towering buildings. Its deteriorating walls mirrored the consequences that awaited its inhabitants. Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon emerged from the vehicle, stepping into the shadows with the grace of predators aware of their prey.

The air was thick with tension as they approached the door, their every step calculated and deliberate. In one swift motion, Seokjin kicked the door open, a thunderous crash splintering the silence, effectively obliterating any semblance of security the thief might have had.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the flickering light of a moth-eaten table lamp. The thief, trembling with fear, staggered backward, his eyes wide with terror as he caught a glimpse of Min Yoong, Seokjin, and Namjoon advancing upon him like vengeful spirits.

“As much money you’ve taken from me and this is the best you can do?” Yoongi looked around the “humble” apartment. The stench of mold, old food, and cigarettes poured from the dingy walls. “This is was you have your wife and daughter sleep in? I expected more from a new father” 

The trio looked at the man with pure disgust. The man stood there trembling with his hand in front of him. “S-Sir! I wasn’t excepting you-” 

“Of course not, they never do” Yoogni started as he walked around the apartment looking at the filth surrounding him. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Yoongi's voice cut through the stillness, icy words taunting the trembling figure before him.The man's voice quaked, "I-I... I didn't mean to steal, boss. It was a mistake. Please, spare me.""How does one ‘not mean’ to steal? I do not understand. What about you guys?” Yoongi asked Namjoon and Seokjin. 

“I’ve never heard of that.” 

“Neither have I” 

A devilish smirk curled at the corner of Yoongi's lips as he advanced, his steely gaze locking with the man's fearful eyes. Seokjin and Namjoon flanked Yoongi, their presence choking the thief's feeble attempts at escape.  Yoongi nodded towards the man. The room crackled with an almost tangible electricity, in this den of shadows, the thief's screams would echo through eternity, a cautionary tale whispered in hushed tones among those who dared to cross the line. “Come, let’s take a trip.”

~~~~~~~.

As the three men forcefully dragged the struggling thief through the dimly lit corridors of Yoongi's headquarters, the atmosphere grew heavy with tension. Each step echoed off the cold, concrete walls, emphasizing the thief's vulnerability against the backdrop of ruthless power.

Yoongi led the way with a calculating air of authority. The people who worked in his home avoided him as they walked through. His intimidating presence exuded an icy confidence that sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned criminals. Kai watched on in fear.

She knew whatever the man did, it was enough to cause Yoongi to act in this way. She didn’t like to see him upset. Namjoon and Seokjin flanked either side of the trembling thief. Namjoon's tall and muscular frame towered over the thief—a stoic figure radiating an air of intelligence. Seokjin, on the other hand, was adorned in an impeccably tailored suit, his handsome features masked behind a mask of unreadable calmness.

The thief's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to make sense of the dire situation he had found himself in. He had foolishly underestimated the power that Yoongi wielded, thinking he could outsmart the mob boss and make a quick getaway. But now, caught in the clutches of the criminal underworld, he knew there would be no escaping the consequences of his actions.

They finally arrived at Yoongi's office, an imposing room filled with luxurious furnishings that contrasted starkly with the unsavory nature of their surroundings. As the thief was ushered inside, the heavy black door creaked ominously behind him, sealing his fate.

Yoongi settled into the sumptuous leather chair behind his grand black desk, his piercing gaze never leaving the thief. His eyes bore into the man like a predator seeking its next meal, his expression unreadable yet merciless."Sit," Yoongi commanded, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

The thief shuffled towards the chair opposite Yoongi's desk, his limbs trembling with a combination of fear and anticipation. Namjoon and Seokjin positioned themselves strategically behind the thief, a silent reminder that there would be no escape from the punishment that awaited him.

With deliberate slowness, Yoongi leaned forward, placing his palms on the desk as he fixated his gaze on the trembling thief. "Why did you steal from me?"The thief's voice wavered as he stammered, "I-I-I made a terrible mistake, Mr. Min."

Yoongi’s face scrunched up. “Don’t ever call me that. I am not my father.” His voice was cold and laced with irritation. “Now answer my question.” 

“I-I just needed to pay some people back. That’s all” he stuttered “I wanted to pay off my debt at once.” 

“So you decided to pay off a debt with money that did not belong to you?” 

The man’s mouth fell open but he couldn’t come up with any reason. 

“Please, please sir. Have mercy on me. I will never do this again and I will pay you back everything I took!  I beg for your mercy.” 

“That’s cute,” Yoongi's lips curled into a predatory smirk, his voice dripping with icy disdain.

"Mercy? In my line of business, mercy is a luxury reserved for the innocent, weak, and foolish. You, my friend, fall into more of the weak and foolish categories. But sadly, I haven’t got mercy for you tonight. You see you were meant to be on patrol at Yn’s workplace with Jungkook until he learned her routine and got the security job but you, from my understanding haven’t been going and left Jungkook to figure things out on his own. Thank God the kid is fucking smart and doesn’t need a fool like you to do his job. That’s your first strike. You’ve interrupted my time with my blossom with your selfish acts. That’s your second strike. And on top of that, you steal from me. I don’t care about what you do to my father but you stole from me and you have the balls to come into my home, smoke my cigars, drink my liquor? That’s your third strike. And to put the icing on the cake for a bonus strike, you left your wife to take care of your child alone without the funds to do so. Do you really think I’d have any mercy for you?"

“You ask God for mercy, not me.”

The thief's heart plummeted, knowing his fate had been sealed. He had crossed a line he should have never dared to cross, and now he had to face the consequences.

~~~~~~~

“I’ve done a lot of things in that office that I’m not so proud of and I wouldn’t want you to see that,” Yoongi said softly. You looked over at the window. “I don’t want you to think of me as I monster.” 

You turned back to him and sighed softly. “I can never think of you like that. It’s just all a little overwhelming for me. I don’t think I could be like that.” You admitted. 

“You don’t have to. Baby, I’m not asking you to join me. I do not want that. I just need you to at least for now, understand.” Yoongi grabbed your hands and pulled you onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder as you looked down at him. He lays his head on your chest, holding you as close as he possibly could. You ran your finger through his hair and sighed softly. 

Yoongi slept with you close by his side. Although you didn’t leave, Yoongi felt your relationship shift. He loved you with everything he had and hoped it alone was enough. 

[starlightbooklove]

There's something I've wanted to talk about for a while but haven't really had the time to do (I still don't but x) and it's education In my country (Venezuela) or well, in my city, because all the information I read and see on my social networks (mainly Tumblr) is in English and from first world countries most of the time Referring to posts about lifestyles and things like that and I am always struck by how different things are, especially how poor my university education system is, which here We know it is, every self-respecting Venezuelan knows how finished the country really is LMAO we are self aware But now that I have to go through the university experience, and I have to see it and feel it for myself, it leaves me very shocked how bad the university is in so many things. And how hard it is For the student Simply studying or watching classes And I want to make it known through my experience, because I have a blogger complex XD JAJSJSJSJSJSJSJSJ

Starting at the beginning with that here when we graduate from high school, we must enter a government page called OPSU (I don't remember what it means at this time xd) in this are sent Once you have your academic grades to have your academic GPA and everything, this is where you enter the career you want to study and the university (all public, obviously)

In my city they opened the Medicine program almost 4 years ago, the headquarters here comes from the mother nucleus that is in another city, and it is, as you can see, quite recent. But it is a highly in-demand career among the student population, and last year it was in great demand because the news broke that they would open another branch in the city in a more central area. Because the original headquarters was in a fairly remote place and is what's next to bad (I'll explain it to you now) So last year around 10,000 people enrolled in the medical degree in the opsu to see it in my city, and the opsu accepted a LOT of people to the point that people with a good GPA did not passed, while people with low GPA achieved it, and then the OPSU carried out a "second wave" to give a chance to those who had not passed in the first opportunity (among those, me 🥲) And another bunch of people got in, which caused a general disaster, the university had to create 32 sections of 52 people each, in... The old headquarters Because there were so many people that they accepted that the 'first year' occupied an entire venue morning and afternoon, So foreign people who came to my city believing that they would study at the new headquarters had to face the fact that n.1 the headquarters was not (and is not) open yet and n.2. that we would not go to that Headquarters because those of our year would be In the old one.

At this point we have not yet reached the beginning of classes (where the hardest part begins) and look how many problems were had

Anyway

Last year the 'first year' students had to study until December because they started late, our year had planned to start in January to not repeat that, but the university was not ready yet and the teachers were not yet complete, so in the end we started in February after carnival (in the middle) but we were also embarrassingly behind so We started with a lack of teachers for 4 different subjects and in the first week we saw half of those we did have (there are 11 subjects)

Now, the university 🫠

You might wonder what it could be about the university that makes it so unpleasant to watch classes there. Well, you see, that university was in very good condition when it was inaugurated, but it was looted to such an extent that it is in a deplorable state now.

So where I study is a facility without air conditioning, without main windows, with a lack of chairs (although that is solved now) Without video beam, computers or desks for teachers, There is a laboratory but it does not have any laboratory equipment (we do not even have a microscope), and there are no anatomical models (essential since we are studying MEDICINE) 🙃🥲

So in the first weeks the section delegate asked us for money to buy the projector since all the sections had to buy their own projector to watch the classes and we were Praying that we would get one of the few classrooms with air so that we would only have to do the maintenance that wouldn't cost a lot of money buuut Sadly we had one without air conditioning and to this day we don't have air because we have had to pay for other things.

It should be noted that this is a public, government university, we should not have the need to pay absolutely any of this in the first place And we have had to pay for things that do not correspond to us as students since we started. And oh boy when i tell You the amount of struggle that we had to see classes...

Time to do second part ✨

Part 2 ✨

[housecatclawmarks]

It feels important to note that while there can be very healthy age gap relationships between adults and there are ppl in their 20s who seek out much older partners (which im not gonna tell them not to! they’re adults w a right to fuck & it’s none of my goddamn business), there is not a ‘positive tradition of gay age gap relationships’ and I think it’s good to asses that statement critically when someone says it to you.

The historic frequency of age gap relationships in Western gay culture specifically, especially Britain, does not come from roots that have anything intrinsically to do with homosexuality. What it comes from is specifically rich, mostly white queer men doing what many, many rich white men have done throughout history regardless of sexuality-using their racial & class power to have consensual or coercive sex with young working class people & people of color. The power imbalance between age&experience AND financial status was romanticized a Lot by these rich gay men in the late 19th and early 20th century (think about ppl like Oscar Wilde, Walt Whitman, E.M. Forster, Edward Carpenter, etc) and relationships with poor young men & sometimes teenaged boys were sought out enthusiastically under the guise of imitating ‘the Greek acceptance of homosexuality’-which makes sense when you consider where & how a lot of these men were educated.

The illegality of gayness & oppression of lgbt people definitely made it hard to find examples of same-gender attracted people in society, which helps contribute to the Greek imitation thing but also more importantly created situations where young lgbt people who were working class, who were immigrants, who weren’t white were facing the most severe consequences under the law for their sexuality & gender expression, were living the hardest lives, & were easier to exploit by rich and powerful men because of it. The ones doing the exploiting weren’t doing it because they were gay, the criminalization of homosexuality just made it easier for them to take advantage as they did the same thing their heterosexual peers did to young women & girls who were working class, immigrants, & women of color.

If anything the fact that conditions in the UK & US have improved so much legally and socially for cis gay people has made it much more achievable to have ethical, healthy age gap relationships between people who want them, even though these issues do still exist. Again, it definitely can and does happen, and adults have the right to date & fuck each other if they want to, but that type of relationship does not need to be culturally tied to something unhealthy, coercive, & produced by classism and racism.

It’s a subject I think a lot of western gay people & historians shy away from talking about and really seeing as what it was because we’re so often wrongly smeared as pedophiles & gay sexuality is accused of being predatory to children & teens as way to harm and criminalize gay people, and I understand the fear of playing into that, which is why it’s so important to me to emphasize again that this exploitation was a product of class and racial inequality and homo/transphobia, not an innate quality of gay or trans society. But we do need to talk about it! We need to address it! And (saying this As one) white gay men NEED to find queer history & role models who aren’t rich, imperialist pedophiles-there have been SO MANY OF US who aren’t that! the majority of queer people in history have not been that! We have a rich culture and history to draw from here without glorifying or toning down really gross, predatory behavior from a handful of wealthy men & the class that enabled them.

[chuunijianghuyuri]

When They Cry and perhaps every 07th Expansion work where Ryukishi07 is the main writer/director is fundamentally against the concept of fate. One of it's core messages is that anything can be overcome with enough collective and individual effort. Anything can be overcome proportional to the amount of individual and/or collective effort that it requires, i.e. overcoming capitalism and its woes is going to take more collective and individual effort from more people than overcoming one person's drug addiction. The combined efforts of each individual trying their hardest becomes a greater collective effort with the more people there are putting their minds and bodies towards one goal.

Let's start with the most explicit example that most directly handles the subject. The fragments of Higurashi is a metaphor for the infinite or near infinite number of possibilities that humanity has and the directions that it can take. In the original 8 episodes of Higurashi we fittingly only go through 8 of them, but Furude Rika has went through 100 years of them. She tries her best to save Houjou Satoko and her other friends from their tragedies but even when she tries to get help ends up failing numerous times. It's only one she truly relies on her friends and believes and trusts them does she get somewhere and achieves her goal with the help of everyone around her. It's only the collective efforts of not only her friends but the entire village and then some does she save Satoko and break free from the tragedy. It's only through the active choices that each of them makes is it possible to choose a path that doesn't result in the deaths of many. It took the efforts of a village and then some to overcome what was becoming seemingly inevitable in Rika's jaded mind, but their choices DID matter and it WAS possible all along.

Umineko doesn't focus on the subject directly as much but that doesn't mean it isn't a fundamental part of it. With every instance of something that is wrong or goes wrong just like in Higurashi, it is clear that with different decisions with varying amounts of effort and varying amounts of steps backward in time that these things not only could have been avoided but could have been made better or alleviated after the fact. The most explicit example of this of course is in Ep 7 where Bernkastel finds a rare fragment where Yasuda Sayo is loved and cared for by Ushiromiya Natsuhi despite her troubles and misgivings at least partially caused by Ushiromiya Kinzo, creating a person rather named Ushiromiya Lion with near none of the trauma that their far more common fragments have. It's just another example of showing how nothing is fated, how all can go different directions and be avoided with different actions. Nothing in history has ever been set in stone until it has already happened and been written. Even still this doesn't stop Kinzo from doing THAT to his daughter, but there are surely fragments where he treats her like the daughter he should have and could have lived alongside her siblings.

And though I know little about the exclusive manga Ep 9, Confessions of the Golden Witch (because I actively refuse to read it and want to figure out the entire mystery myself on the second read rather than it all being told to me), I do know that Yasuda Sayo spills their guts out about how it was impossible in any fragment for them to be loved for who they truly are in their fullest context. This shouldn't be taken at face value however, as this is through the unreliable lense of someone who literally cannot see or believe that they themselves can be loved. Someone blind to the color of the ocean shouldn't be trusted with color theory. It is likely that they are blind to or in denial of the possibility of them ever being loved due to their trauma and self hatred and would tear it down with what seems obvious and logical to them. I'm firmly under the belief that if they sought help from the siblings, or even just Ushiromiya Jessica, something could have worked out for the better and that maybe there could have been steps made to integrate them into the family and perhaps finally begin to heal past woes and cruelties.

I can't say much about Ciconia given the much unfinished state that it's in but I have no doubt in my mind that it'll handle the subject as well. When They Cry is all about putting your best efforts in what you seek to achieve for the betterment of yourself and those around you and that anything can be achieved with enough collective effort. Anything is possible, all wounds can be healed at least partially with due time, and that the strongest thing one can have is a community that stands by and helps one another. When They Cry is fundamentally about love, overcoming trauma, and social solidarity among many, many other things that gives one reasons to keep on living and have hope and love this world and all living things on it.

[jayblanc]

The Strike is over, but the conditions continue.

Okay, so the Media Strikes are over* what now? Everything is fine right, and onwards we go.

Except... All the guys who worked their hardest to undermine the Unions are all still there. And let me assure you that even when they're not outright hostile, there's swathes of "Producers" who maintain wilful ignorance of what they need to do to be right by their workers.

Here's an example from the "wilful ignorance" end of that scale, and one that threatens to become too common an occurrence as we enter the age of the multi-million dollar 'crowdfunded' production.

Back in the middle of the Strike, the producers of the successful crowd funded 'Lackadaisy' Pilot announced a crowd funded series order. They quickly hit their target for a new episode, then a short-season production order, and raised more than enough that they declared they could complete a full season production order at two million dollars.

I contacted the producers to ask if they were going to do right by their returning SAG-AFTRA cast, and be careful to follow SAG-AFTRA terms and consider getting an appropriate waiver if they needed one.

I received almost immediate lash-back from the producers, who were incensed that I questioned them, and accused me of 'trying to tear them down to be a hero'. They then issued this public statement on their crowd funder, buried as a silent update to their FAQ...

---

We are not members of the AMPTP (Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers). That is the body that SAG-AFTRA (The Screen Actors Guild – American Federation of Television and Radio Artists) and the WGA (Writers Guild of America) are on strike against. We are also not a theatrical production (which the strikes are explicitly targeting), and so are not subject to the strikes. We negotiate our contracts with our crew members directly, not through AMPTP. Those AMPTP contracts are what SAG-AFTRA and the WGA are objecting to, and we do not use those objectionable contracts. We wholeheartedly support the current labor actions, and hope labor is able to achieve every single one of their demands and more! There is no art without artists, and art is labor. SOLIDARITY FOREVER!

---

Let's go over this statement...

"We are not members of the AMPTP" - No, you personally are not. And under the line producers are indeed annoyed at the AMPTP for making it appear they represent all production staffers when they do not. But... And this is important, all production *companies* are still employers, and SAG-AFTRA, WGA and IATSE are the collective bargaining units that hold them to account. And these unions have to operate from the assumption that your company might, for example, seek to do a deal with Netflix to get the series streamed there... And even if they're "Just going to put it on YouTube", well, it may come as a shock but YouTube is owned by a Big Media Company called Google. It is actually very hard to distribute media truly independently than you might think, and avoiding the AMPTP is difficult. Particularly since they don't make their member companies particularly easy to identify, and there's no published list of them... But even if you still do all that, this still means your production company is Management, and the unions have every right to look after your work force.

"We are also not a theatrical production" - This is either weasel wording, or wilful ignorance. No, they are not a "Theatrical Production". But having a budget over one million dollars means they are a "Television Production", even if independently streamed and distributed. And relevant expectations of following a collectively bargained agreement in the relevant category still exist.

"We negotiate our contracts with our crew members directly" - Nothing says you understand collective bargaining more than insisting on individual negotiations with your work force.

"Those AMPTP contracts are what SAG-AFTRA and the WGA are objecting to, and we do not use those objectionable contracts." - Again this is either wilful ignorance of weasel wording. The 'Minimum Agreements' were not set out by the AMPTP, they're the product of the unions pushing them into agreeing on them. And they are the minimums, not full contracts. The strikes were about renegotiating better minimums agreements. And the new minimum agreements won't be "AMPTP Contracts" either, but the bare minimum the unions will demand from you.

"There is no art without artists, and art is labor. SOLIDARITY FOREVER!" - I find it strange to end this statement on a declaration of solidarity, after spending the rest of it explaining how you don't think that solidarity applies to you.

---

Now I want to make it clear, I am not making an assumption of malice on behalf of the Lackadaisy production. I wish them and those that will be working for them, all the best of luck.

But, at the end of the day, worker conditions are harmed just as much by wilful ignorance as direct malice. And sometimes, people who have assured themselves that they are good people can cause harm because they simply don't bother to examine their assumptions. And then cause further harm by doubling down on it when questioned, because they believe themselves to be good people, so anyone 'attacking them' must be a bad person.

And some times that means intervention to drag them into actually understanding their obligations. Be it reluctantly, be it kicking and screaming about being attacked, be it actively opposed. That's what unions are there for.

And that's what Solidarity actually means.

(*IATSE, the associated media worker trade group is expected to go on strike when their collective contract is up for renegotiation early 2024)

[midwinter-whump]

LD Lab Rats Pt. 8

Blood, Blaster shot wound, dehumanization, muzzle

"Liithal. Come on, kid. Say something."

Teeth sinking into her shoulder, pinning her to the ground.

"Whatever he did to you, you're stronger than this."

Her breath leaking out slowly as her muscles lock up.

"You have people counting on you."

A sharp thread being pulled from deep in her chest, as if her very soul is being extracted. The world becomes a little darker, and her awareness dims.

Liithal finally turned her gaze to Jay, but she felt numb and disconnected.

"There you are. You were starting to worry me, kid." By the look of his face, he was still worried. But Liithal was guessing since she couldn't sense his emotions anymore.

Her own voice was much more flat and rough than normal when she spoke, "I'm.... okay."

Jay frowned and scrunched his eyebrows. "I hope so. While I was out today I overheard the pirates talking about their sensors going off. I think we need to be ready to go soon."

While parameter sensors could go off at storms, wildlife, a particularly big wave, Liithal deeply hoped that meant her friends were scouting out a way to break in. The prospect lifted her spirits. "Even if they get to us, these cells are locked. Look what happened when I tried to break you out!"

"Which is why we will be keeping tabs on Nordue and his tablet. I have been keeping notes on places he sets it down. And if one of us is with him when they break in, we'll steal it."

"It... isn't much of a plan."

"I know. But there are a lot of unknown factors. We will have to improvise based on where we all are, and on the escape plan of the rest of your squad. For now, we focus on being able to get that tablet and get back here to free everyone. We'll meet our ride on the way out."

Yeah. Unknown factors. "But what about the droid?"

"You'll have to learn how to use the Force enough push it away."

That was... Not ideal. "But I'm not talented with that. I have always been able to feel the flow of the Force through other creatures, but I can't wield it like a Jedi. And I have tried."

"Being able to feel it is usually the hardest part. You just have to feel the flow through objects as well, and-" he cut himself off when the door opened.

Nordue strode down the hallway and paused between Jay and Liithal. The tension could be cut with a knife. He pointed to Jay, "Move that one to chamber twenty."

Liithal's breath picked up, anger and fear boiled in her. She stood and kicked the barrier, "You can't do that!" She couldn't lose the only person she had to talk to. Her only source of comfort and connection.

Nordue gave her a cold look, "I am removing an uncontrolled element in your environment. A subject needs specific conditions to achieve the desired results. And an element conspiring to alter your abilities? Well we can't have that."

Of course! Why would Liithal not assume Nordue could listen to them? "You can't control us! Whatever you want me to be, you'll fail! I will never give in!"

"If you feel so strongly, then I supposed you are strong enough for another session to prep for your role." He opened her cell and gestured for her to follow.

There was a short moment with both cells open where Liithal and Jay made eye contact. The droid was dealing with him, and Nordue with her. They didn't say anything, didn't need to. They just acted.

With his cuffs magnetized to the droid, Jay pulled himself up and in a single motion used his momentum to flip them both over and slam the droid into the ground.

At the same time, Liithal lurched forward and sank her teeth into Nordue's thigh. He shouted and kicked her off, but she came right back and kicked the side of his leg as hard as she could. He fell down to his knee, which made him finally short enough for her to yank him by his shirt and headbutt his face.

Jay took the tablet and ran to the next cell to free whoever was inside, "Change of plan. We move now!"

Jay had the doors open quickly, although they quickly realized many of the prisoners here were going to need physically dragged out. Liithal's heart dropped because they didn't have time for all of that.

"FU-03!" Nordue choked out, "Intervene!"

The twi'lek stepped from his room. He dashed forward to Liithal, and she dodged away. "Kes! Stop! I won't fight you."

Jay grabbed Kes from behind and restrained him, "You're not going to break through to him! Just go! I'll catch up."

Liithal's eyes welled with tears. The last thing she wanted was to leave anyone behind! A blaster shot hit the wall next to her head and everyone froze. Nordue stood, blood trailing from his nose. "Move again and I'll do more then a warning shot."

Liithal's mind raced. She wasn't fast enough to get the blaster before she was shot. Could she talk her way out of this? "You- You can't shoot me. You need me."

Without a word, Nordue swung the blaster over and shot Jay in the leg.

"NO!" Liithal was at Jay's side by the time he hit the ground. He softly swore, his breath carefully controlled and his energy focused on handling the pain.

"While you are my main subject," Nordue said calmly, even as blood from his bite wound spotted the white tile floor, "The others are disposable. And as I noted earlier, you are soft. You will be eaten by guilt should you cause of one of these other specimens be killed because of you."

Jay gripped Liithal's wrist, "Just go."

She looked up at Nordue, who seemed to be basically daring her to try it. And she knew if she did people would die. She stood slowly, her hands out where they could be seen, "I surrender. Don't shoot."

Nordue grinned, and retrieved his tablet. Barriers over the rooms went back up, "FU-03, take FU-14 to chamber twenty. FU-15, with me."

Liithal bared her teeth at him, "Fuck you." He grabbed the back of her jumpsuit and dragged her along.

"We really must do something about that mouth of yours," Nordue spoke.

He took her to the exam room, and strapped just one of her arms to the table and left her standing next to it. He stuck a stimpak into his leg, then opened a drawer. "I had this made special for you. It should cure your little biting problem, and as an added bonus, just you up." He turned around and Liithal saw some kind of cup-shaped metal cage with straps on it.

"What is that?"

"See, this is what I am talking about. A good weapon doesn't question or talk back. It does what its owner makes it do."

He stepped closer and Liithal pulled away as far as she could with her arm stuck. He reached up to hold her face and she shook her head violently and swatted his hand away, "Don't!"

Nordue ignored her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved the cage over her snout and buckled the straps behind her head. The device was snug. She couldn't open her mouth more than a tiny bit, she knew she wouldn't be able to eat with this. She pulled at it with her hand, which Nordue snatched and stuck her cuffs together, "None of that now. If you want to act like an animal, I will treat you as one."

Liithal tried to retort, but the only sound that came out was slurred beyond understanding. It was a very specific way to humiliate her, robbing her of her speech. Liithal had spent months when she first got to space unable to speak to anyone without a translator. There were few things that made her feel more helpless than not being able to communicate.

Nordue clipped a lead to the muzzle before freeing her hands. He clicked his tongue and tugged the leash like she was some kind of animal. And she stumbled and caught herself on her hands.

"There you are. You're starting to really look usable now."

Liithal felt shame burning her up. She silently prayed for Sol to find her and get her out of here soon.

[gravvitywritestrash]

Dincember Day 6, Prompt: Hot Chocolate

gender neutral reader!

Warnings: Din being a menace.

Series Masterlist

Din's bounty hunting life meant that sweets were few and far in between.

Baked goods didn't have a long shelf life, nor were they a necessity. Buying a treat for himself was a waste of credits. Buying anything but the necessities was wasteful, it took up time.

It wasn't that he couldn't go out and buy them, it wasn't a luxury he couldn't afford. He never let himself, though. Always rationalizing that he didn't need such luxuries, anything more than the minimum was too much. No, it was because Din wouldn't let himself treat himself, even on his life day.

Grogu's life was also subjected to such restriction during their time living life on the run, meaning the kid didn't have much exposure to being able to have more than just the basics. Din did his best then, trying his hardest to make sure the kid could get the occasional snack or toy, even when credits were tight.

After the return of the kid, he found it easy to justify spending extra credits. He had missed the kid terribly, and he found himself giving in to pretty much anything the kid wanted because of that. Toys and cookies and sweets were always finding their way to lighten Din's credit purse, but he never indulged in these treats himself.

And then there was you.

You had joined his crew a little while after the kid left, being hired as an on board mechanic to keep his ship running. The "new" Crest had a multitude of issues, but Din wasn't willing to part with the gift that reminded had reminded him of the kid when he wasn't present.

You didn't live your life with such restrictions. You indulged in your wants, and even tempted Din to submit to the "retail therapy" buying what you wanted, rather than what you needed, brought.

This time around, you had snuck back a cup of something hot and sweet smelling, when your original purpose out in the market was to buy more rations for the ship.

Once you had set the kid down, you produced two empty cups, portioning out a small amount for the kid, before pouring more into the other empty cup and approaching Din.

"Here try this. It's called hot chocolate, a holiday treat around here." You were grinning, holding one cup in each of your hands.

Din ignored your out stretched offer, tiling his helmet in question.

"When did you buy that?" Din hadn't taken his eyes off of you and the kid almost the entire time your group had been at the market. There were only a few instances where his attention was pulled away, but none of them should have been long enough for you to purchase the drink without him knowing.

"While we were at the market." You presented the cup to him again, trying to get him to take it.

Din still made no move to take the cup from your hand, unsatisfied with your answer. He crossed his arms over his chest, and shifted so he was standing over you.

You huffed, matching Din's stance with a head tilt of your own. "The stall right next to the guy selling the rations was serving it. You looked away long enough for me to pick up the order I mouthed to him."

Din was stunned. You always got what you wanted, cooking up elaborate schemes to slip under Din's radar or mouth off enough for him to just give in.

It both irritated and excited Din, always in suspense for whatever plan you cooked up next, or wanting to see how far he could push your buttons, how far you'd be willing to go achieve what you wanted.

"And what if I don't like it?" He decided today was one of those days where he'd push back against you.

"Oh you'll like it, it's really good." You said with added emphasis. "And, if you don't like it, you can just give it to me and the kid."

"You've tried it?" Suddenly Din was struck with an idea, one that would catch you off guard, turn the tables on you for a change.

"Yes, now just try it." You tried to get him to take the cup once again, but instead of reaching up for the offering, his hand went elsewhere.

Din's hand lifted and thumbed the release on the bottom edge of his helmet. With the helmet blocking his view, he couldn't see the shocked expression on your face as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your mouth.

The kiss was quick, allowing Din just enough time to taste the sweetness still lingering in your mouth.

It wasn't the first kiss you two had shared, but it was still a new thing for both of you. But Din had never been so bold, lifting his helmet in the light, even if it was only high enough to kiss you.

When Din's helmet locked back into place, he saw the shocked expression on your face, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide in shock. Although his heart was beating erratically at his own boldness, Din still reveled in the fact he could reduce someone as confident as you into a stuttering mess.

He finally took the cup of hot chocolate out of your still out stretched hand.

"You're right, it does taste good."

He moved away from you, turning towards the cockpit to enjoy his beverage while leaving you staring after him.

-

Taglist: @honeydjarin

[xtruss]

I Lost White Friends When I Finally Spoke Out

— Leron L. Barton | Wednesday July 26, 2023

LeRon L. Barton (Pictured) tells Newsweek about the racist experiences he has had with his white friends over the years. Courtesy: LeRon L. Barton

Having friendships with different types of people is a wonderful concept. To learn, trade ideas, have great experiences, and grow with folks from all kinds of backgrounds is a goal that I have always wanted to achieve.

As someone who loves gaining knowledge and immersing myself in various customs, it's essential for me to expand my social circle. I have friends who are Black like myself, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, Salvadoran, Irish, Indigenous, and Arab. We discuss politics, food, sports, music, traveling, film, and life. I love having a wealth of friends that will bring different perspectives in life, and that I can impart wisdom to as well.

However, race and racism have always been difficult to discuss with white people due to the possibility that they may deflect, or be in denial—which is why the subject of race has been the hardest to broach.

Remembering back as a young kid, my family did not have a lot of white friends. It is not because they didn't like them; my cousin married a white woman. It's just that in Kansas City, Missouri, our social circles did not cross.

My grandparents, mother, and father instilled a lot of Black pride in us. We were taught that everyone is the same, but also that Black is beautiful. For me, that was necessary living in a time that told you that you were the opposite.

My brother and I went to a predominately white school and mostly played with Black kids. Still, like many African-Americans, we welcomed white people and held no malice toward them.

I did not make any white friends until my junior year in high school. We all played sports together, listened to hip-hop, and ate the same food. Plenty of friend groups were integrated, including mine. We had Black, white, Asian, Mexican, Puerto Rican, and Indigenous folks in our clique.

It was dope to be able to learn, build, and enjoy other cultures. However, I always noticed there was a difference in how people of color interacted with each other and how my white friends did. There was a warmth in how we hung out. My family welcomed them and vice versa.

But when it came to my white friends, I felt there was a ceiling, a stopping point. A lot of the interactions were surface-level and not deep.

I was always race conscious; being in Kansas City does that to you. It was, and continues to be, a very segregated city. Still, I would try to laugh off racist jokes I heard at work and amongst people in social situations.

I can recall during an offsite lunch event, police entered the restaurant and a coworker joked: "Oh they must be looking for you LeRon." They all laughed, and me being the only Black person at the table, brushed it off and tried to laugh along with it.

My white friends and associates would ask me things like: "Do you play basketball? Do you know anyone that sells drugs? Have you ever been in a gang?"

And they even asked if it was okay for them to say the N-word in a rap song.

These were my day-to-day interactions with white people. I am not trying to paint them all as being harmful and bad, but I have to be honest.

Things began to change for me in 2012. Trayvon Martin was murdered and there was this national conversation about race. Many people had been arguing both sides of the incident.

When I would talk to my white friends about the shooting, the protests, and the uprisings that followed, they would say things like: "What was he doing out there that late? Do we know for sure if he attacked Zimmerman? Why protest and destroy property?"

It was almost as if the rose-colored glasses I had were flung off. When unarmed Black men such as Mike Brown and Alton Sterling were killed by the police, I would see negative comments on social media from friends.

Someone that I had known for years had complained about the protests destroying their quiet neighborhood. Other folks would say "All Lives Matter" or "What about Black-on-Black crime?"

These were the same people that loved Michael Jordan, listened to Snoop Dogg, and cheered Ray Lewis as they watched the Super Bowl. It was as if they only consumed Blackness as entertainment, not as people.

Soon after, I began to write about being Black in America. I would call out racism white explicitly and highlight the inequities of police arrests and shootings, employment, health disparities, and home ownership.

Some white friends noticed my shift in tone and faded away. My televised interviews and podcast appearances became too much for some. I was known as "militant" to a few folks and angry to others.

One friend in particular could not understand why I was so mad. I explained to him it was because as a Black man, if I scare a white woman or make a white law enforcement officer nervous, that could be my life.

He then said: "I don't see you as Black, just as a man." I replied: "That is the problem, you don't want to acknowledge the issue here, racism." He and I stopped talking shortly after.

I was the cool guy when we were going drinking, clubbing, and talking about non-serious things, but when I discuss "The Talk", a conversation that Black parents have with their children on how to survive when they reach a certain age, I am too serious or divisive.

I realized the ceiling I have with many white people and have accepted it.

I've met other Black people that do not have white friends. While I do not subscribe to nor agree with that thought, I do not judge them. Being Black, or being any racialized person in a world that tells you you are less than, is hard. Having to justify your existence every day to people you are close to is even harder.

I think back to this quote I read from Stud Terkel's masterful book Race. Terkel is interviewing a young African-American man who does not have white friends. He asks the guy: "Why do you only hang out with Black people?" The young man laughs and says: "I don't have to worry about them being racist." I think about that sometimes.

Today, I have a few white friends that are "grandfathered" in. Seriously, they are people, such as one of my best friends "Frosty," that I can have serious discussions about racism and how we can change the system. New friends are "vetted."

Writing and discussing race is a very important part of my life. If I have to argue with you about why we are upset when another unarmed Black man is shot by the police, this is not going to work. If I have to explain to you why saying the "N-word" is wrong, cultural appropriation is bad, something innocuous as the slogan "Black Lives Matter" is a positive thing, or why Malcolm X is my personal hero, then this friendship will not work out. I am not teaching "Intro to Blackness 101."

Some reading this may say: "Well LeRon, what if people don't know? We have to teach them."

To that, I say no.

I believe that Black people live in a country that constantly tries to strangle every bit of self-respect, pride, individuality, love, and life out of them. It is an everyday challenge for us to maintain our mental health.

I ask white people who are well-meaning to practice self-reflection. Interrogate your racist blind spots. Educate yourselves. Fight against the system that oppresses us and others.

Black people do not have enough time in the day to survive and help you become not racist. Being a friend is about accountability and work.

— LeRon L. Barton is a Writer, Author, and Speaker.

[vizthedatum]

This was my outfit yesterday! I feel very self-conscious about this aspect of myself. Going to Cornell was not easy, and it makes people both under- and overestimate me. I absolutely hate it. But also, it has really helped me so much and I acknowledge the privilege.

In 9th grade, I told my plaver (<7 always) that I wanted to go to Cornell… my parents wanted me to go college, preferably a top tier one. We were lower middle-class at best because of poor money management, unstable mental health, and the challenge of cultural assimilation into a new country (something ny parents still have trouble with (not judging)). Money was always tight and especially after my brother was born and especially when my dad had a stroke in high school.

So I was trained by my mother to push myself to excel in every subject, even if I didn’t like it.

I did ok. I did enough to get me into Cornell but I had a hard time internalizing much of the knowledge I accrued or forced in my brain. Often, I felt like I couldn’t understand why I knew something - I just knew it because I had to know it.

I had constant anxiety and SI. In addition to several undiagnosed and unmanaged chronic pain issues. And crippling depression (my parents asserted that if anyone found out I was depressed or sought mental health care then I would not get into college… or even have friends).

I got into Cornell in my senior year (lol I guess this is the timeline) and I was incredibly sick. My trauma was catching up to me. My hs ex was incredibly abusive. My parents, even more so. There was *something* going on with my brother but no one listened to me, and I’m still mad about that. I wish he had gotten into treatment sooner.

I missed more than half the days of my senior year in high school. I had migraines, extreme pelvic pain, and… near crippling fear/anxiety/depression. And most doctors didn’t really believe me. My school? Wayzata High School?? Well on behalf of the now-politician, Ginny Klevorn, white suburban mom™️ extraordinaire INSISTED that I needed consequences (despite me basically making up all my homework and exams) … so they gave me straight Fs for one of the quarters in high school. But they did make my parents take me to therapy until I graduated - too bad that my first therapist was also abusive and was later fired.

I was furious.

I worked my ass off to my detriment to attempt to do as well as my other over-achieving peers. I definitely wasn’t learning - I swear that I didn’t know what I was doing half of the time. I didn’t have a lot of money or resources either - we just got creative most of the time. I just had to get good grades and do a million extracurriculars and volunteer and learn how to drive and come up with excuses about my behavior and play the violin and deal with abuse and pain. I was definitely not the best student but it was good enough. Four Fs would ruin all that though.

I got in anyway because I incorporated it (and my immigrant upbringing - I think that was the trend back then, oof) into my essays… I got a sizable financial aid package. And I visited and accepted.

And then I went and was so severely depressed and in bladder pain the whole time that I ended up with a 2.99 GPA, more trauma, maladaptive behaviors, no idea what I wanted to do in my life but applied to UMich’s MPH program on a whim and someone took a chance on me. And the Cornell degree.

I did work hard but… Cornell was traumatic. It’s really not ok that we are known for suicides and general bleakness. The “easiest Ivy to get into, hardest one to get out of” or whatever? Fuck that - I saw grown adults crying or majorly stressed out because they might be put on probation or cast out of the engineering degrees. Or the level of absolute corporal punishment of students using the answer manual to finish homework and then they all had to go to a hearing?? And you could have some permanent mark on your record? Wtf? Do you remember that? It was a witch hunt and also extremely unreasonable. I felt like I and so many other people I knew were constantly on edge.

My urologist in Ithaca also FUCKING SUCKED. He did this weird procedure trying to literally stretch out my urethra with rods… and I got so much worse. He slut-shamed me constantly. He was the only specialist in the area - and not specialist in my conditions. I think I was his only regular AFAB patient!

And I got my first back hernia at Cornell.

And a devastating friendship breakup that I will never truly understand. I was so lonely for a while.

But the wines class was good.

I met amazing people there, and I’ve had unforgettable experiences. My best friends were from there. I did learn how much I couldn’t learn, and I taught myself how and did really well in grad school.

And now it helps in job interviews and stuff. And makes people (read: me) think I’m elitist. Yay.

And yeah - I think college and then ending up with 5 degrees is one hell of a trauma response.

[heywriters]

In every library system I've used, librarians are also literally historical archivists. You need building plans for a local building from 1963? Librarian knows where they are. The census from 1852 because that's where you think you'll find proof of your long lost great grandma's origins? Librarian. Locally produced documentary on a local event/subject no one else in the world cares about, but it's very important for an assignment you have? Librarian.

Our friend librarian even told us about a collection of old media that she and other librarians saved despite the fact that it was meant to be thrown away to make room for new editions and new tech. A room full of VHS tapes, audio records, and vintage out-of-print books that were all worth saving even though no one checked them out anymore.

I've also always admired how much the purchasing librarian has to stay on top of current trends. A certain genre or subject is now INCREDIBLY topical or popular? Grab some top sellers with the small budget you're allowed. The local community has a high number of people with the same health problem, like diabetes? PTSD? Cancer? The health section at that library needs to be stocked with books that have been vetted for actual facts and helpful advice. I have yet to see a careless librarian put some AI dribble off of Amazon on a shelf.

I especially admire them keeping up with teen interests, as teens remain one of the hardest young demographics to involve in reading. It's still a crucial learning period in a human's life, yet all media seems designed to distract teens from learning. So I often see libraries spending chunks of their buying budget on new books for teens in subjects/genres that actually interest them---including relationship advice, how to deal with abusive parents, and how to care for one's self once they achieve independence. And since libraries are often where teens wait after school to be picked up by working parents, it's worth it to give them stuff to read and do.

Librarians also organize community events. They make flyers and brochures informing people of food drives, educational seminars, free activities for children during summer vacation, and other social aid venues/events. The one near me gives out cheap and easy recipe ideas for low-income families during rhe holidays. All of this requires more planning and capability than a minimum wage job would expect (I know because my job assigns this stuff only to higher paygrades, and if someone in a higher paygrade isn't available they bump someone into that pay grade to do it).

And YES librarians need to know how to teach tech literacy because they are the last place elderly, disabled, low-income, and homeless can freely go to apply for necessary things like jobs and benefits. There is always some old man or sheltered housewife or new immigrant or ex-con who falls through the cracks in today's high-tech system. This is largely why physical tax forms are always available there come tax season; library is one of the last analog places for people who rely on analog.

People who never use libraries always question their purpose and show their ignorance. Go use one sometime, it's free and they exist to help!

(lastly, it's the one place i can research something for free without being tracked and advertised to. i can just read about anything and no one will know or care!)

[tehuti88-art]

10/18/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Tatiana (last name never given), sans cap (top drawing) and with cap (bottom drawing). She's the sister of Boris; both are in the Red Army, though she dies before the main story. Didrika and Ratdog/Adel name their daughter after her much later on. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding her design, she resembles her brother.

TUMBLR EDIT: Tatiana is a character who obviously casts a long shadow over the main story; her death is largely what inspires Boris's vendetta against the Germans, and later, his lover Didrika's and her new partner Ratdog's/Adel's (a former enemy/rival of Boris's) decision to name their daughter after her. I've never much explored her as a character, as she's dead before the plot begins, presumably killed in combat (like Boris, she's a Red Army soldier); a general idea of how her story goes has presented itself, though it's quite new, and subject to LOTS of change, so take this entry with a big grain of salt.

Boris and Tatiana are quite close; he considers her his "baby sister" even though there's not much age difference between them. When war breaks out, and Nazi Germany abruptly turns on its former ally the Soviet Union (this takes place a lot earlier in my story), Boris is initially not interested in getting involved--he even makes plans to flee to avoid conscription. It's Tatiana's decision to join the army that makes him hesitate. He tries to talk her out of it--even though women are allowed in the army, he knows full well just how many of them are likely to be treated by their male comrades--yet Tatiana refuses to listen, and rebukes him for being a coward: "Take a look, even I, a girl, can go and serve the Motherland, what's stopping you?" She really doesn't mean harm by it--like I said, the two have always been close--yet her brother's reluctance bothers her, and her words sting him badly. He decides to follow her lead, and the two enlist and after minimal training are sent off to fight.

Boris is an average soldier, not particularly talented at any one thing, but strong and resilient. Tatiana becomes skilled with a rifle; female sharpshooters are in high demand, and although she never becomes a well-known one, still, she doesn't disappoint. She and Boris don't serve in the same unit and are often separated from each other for a while, yet manage to meet now and then. Tatiana gets so wrapped up in her own duties that she doesn't really notice Boris's increasingly flagging spirits every time they meet; Red Army life is certainly not easy for any common soldier, yet Boris is far more common than she is. Since her skill set is more specialized, she receives moderately better treatment, rations, everything; Boris, meanwhile, is pretty much just cannon fodder. While he does finally get promoted to leader of his own small unit, something Tatiana never achieves, still, he grows more jaded and weary and bitter every day, and even feels a bit resentful and envious of his sister's praise and success. He also feels terribly guilty about this, however, and is careful to keep these thoughts to himself. Indeed, despite his jealousy, his meetings with Tatiana--she always beams and gives him the biggest, hardest hugs--are the lone bright point in his rather dreary, miserable military existence.

Tatiana keeps her own secret from Boris, and it ends up being her downfall. This is the part of the story so far that's vaguest to me. The rough idea is, while out on a solo mission, Tatiana either wounds or finds a wounded German soldier; she raises her gun to finish him off, but something about the look on his face--he's all alone, obviously terrified, and looks so young--makes her hesitate. Although she keeps mentally berating herself for her weakness, she doesn't take the shot, and instead tends to the soldier's injury (after taking away his pistol, of course). She thoroughly scopes out her surroundings, finds no one, so settles in, builds a small shelter, drags the soldier into it (he bites off his yell of pain), and breaks out some rations. She offers the soldier a bit, he reluctantly accepts, they eat in silence. After the food is gone and she gives him a drink of water he asks her something, but it's in German, so all she does is shake her head and shrug. "You speak Russian?" she asks; in response he furrows his brow, then shakes his head. So, there's that out of the way; they have no real way to communicate. Everything will have to be a guess.

She decides they should sit tight until he's able to put weight on his leg and walk on his own. When noises come through the trees--Tatiana recognizes snippets of Russian speech, knows it's her own side--her reaction isn't to hail them, but to hurry to conceal the shelter better, and wait for them to pass. After the sounds cease, when she parts the leafy branches to peer out, the soldier tugs her sleeve--he says something, an obvious question, yet she can't understand. He looks confused, however, so she's pretty sure she can guess what he's asking: Why didn't you get their attention? Tatiana mutters, "Because they'll string me up the moment they find out I was the idiot who helped you!" She knows she did a very stupid thing in not just refusing to shoot the soldier, but in tending to his injury, and is likely to be severely punished for it--if not outright executed. So she may have started out feeling sorry for him, but by now her actions aren't ENTIRELY altruistic; she wants to stay alive, too.

The two spend at least a few days together as they wait for the soldier's leg to get stronger; she helps him to his feet a few times, but when he tries to take a step he cries out and she has to help him sit again before he can fall. All this close proximity likely leads to feelings. I don't think they act on them except maybe to share a kiss, after which Tatiana has to go sit by herself for a bit to sort her muddled thoughts. She KNOWS this is stupid, this is dangerous, she rails against herself for feeling such things, yet how often is someone successful at reasoning themselves out of a feeling? The awkward look the German soldier gives her when she returns makes it clear he's just as conflicted...at least, that's what she tells herself, so she isn't alone in her confusion.

One day, more noises in the woods--German voices this time. The German soldier nervously pulls himself back, whispering something; when Tatiana looks at him, he waves in the direction of the noises, then makes a throat-slitting gesture. He knows that he, too, is likely to be executed if he's found in her company. Tatiana again hurries to conceal the shelter, and withdraws into it. The two of them hold their breath and peer out through the leaves together. After several moments, the members of the German unit appear, stepping cautiously through the little clearing and looking around. Tatiana is skilled at picking up after herself, removing all signs that she's ever been in a place, and this time is no exception; after a few moments of searching and finding nothing but a little trampled grass, the unit leader gestures, and the soldiers all turn to leave.

Tatiana, still watching, dares to let out a tiny breath. Then sucks it in again and stiffens--there's no mistaking the feeling of a gun barrel pressing against the back of her head. The German soldier yells something; the other soldiers all halt, turn back with surprised looks. The unit leader follows the sound of the wounded soldier's voice and rips aside several branches, revealing the makeshift shelter and its occupants. He says something, looking rather surprised himself; the wounded soldier replies, then, still keeping the pistol--he must have stolen it back at some point when Tatiana let down her guard--trained on her head, he pushes himself up, and stands on his own. He grabs Tatiana's rifle and tosses it to the unit commander and Tatiana just feels so, so stupid and gullible...and infuriated. At a nudge and a barked order, she gets to her feet, hands on her head, and exits the shelter, finding herself promptly surrounded. The wounded soldier joins the others and she gets a good look at his face--gone is the fear and uncertainty, the gratitude and the budding feelings. He looks at her like she's an insect under his boot. Tatiana makes her decision right there and then.

The unit commander hands her rifle--she mentally curses, she wishes she still had it, could take out a few of them--to another soldier, gestures at the wounded one to search her in case she too has a pistol concealed. He pats her over--finds no pistol--turns to say as much to the commander--when Tatiana drops her hand and shoves it down her trousers. The commander blinks and exclaims--Tatiana unsnaps something clasped around her thigh and pulls her hand back out. The wounded soldier has enough time to turn back before Tatiana buries the knife in his throat, yanks it out--ignoring the spout of blood that hits her--and then swings it down and jams it into her own thigh, just beside the concealed knife sheath. The wounded soldier gurgles and hits the ground--Tatiana gasps and totters before dropping to her knees and slumping over. She notices that everyone drew their guns, probably expecting her to come swinging at them after stabbing their comrade, though now they're just standing around staring, eyes wide and mouths agape. They obviously hadn't expected that.

The unit commander clenches his fists, lips curling back--"Verdammt noch mal!" he hisses, storms forward, and lands a vicious kick in Tatiana's ribs--she wheezes and curls in on herself but otherwise barely reacts, it's more stunning than painful, as by now everything is going dim and hazy and all she feels is cold; the wound to her leg is just a dull throb, and the slick, sticky feeling pooling around her, she hardly notices. The commander's furious railing is the last thing she hears as she slips away into the black, taking their chance at revenge with her.

A Soviet unit comes across her body some time later. Boris is among them; a few of the others try to hold him back, but he nudges his way forward and stares at her. He doesn't get mad, doesn't rage, doesn't break down, just kneels at her side and brushes her hair from her face and murmurs, "Tania." The others examine the scene, and guess by the second pool of blood that Tatiana must have killed someone else before she killed herself. The great amount of crushed grass hints that she was surrounded by a large group of enemies; the Soviets conclude that she was very brave, and collect her body to take back for a proper burial (she's Eastern Orthodox--her comrades reason that given the circumstances, her suicide is justified and the sin will be forgiven), though Boris takes a moment to shut her eyes first. He looks on, numbly, as she's carried away. He shouldn't have outlived his baby sister.

In the weeks following, he gets in trouble numerous times with his superiors--getting caught drinking, shirking his duties, small passive-aggressive things, though officials start getting impatient with him, and threaten him with demotion. That doesn't happen--his unit gets reassigned to a different area, instead. The moment they come across a German unit, who immediately charge them, it's as if Boris's brain just freezes--all he sees is his dead sister, lying bled out in the grass--and without thinking, he turns and flees.

He races through the woods for what feels like forever...it takes him a few moments to realize that the others in his unit have followed right after him. He hadn't meant for them to get in trouble, too. It's a little too late now to do anything about it, though, and as they run they end up getting separated along the way. He at last hears no one else's footfalls, realizes he's alone, and gradually staggers to an unsteady halt. He doubles over, wheezing to catch his breath, when a stick snaps--his skin prickles--he stops breathing, lifts his head, peers into the trees ahead. Sees a group of Wehrmacht soldiers staring back at him. He ran away from one German unit and straight into another.

The leader of the German unit--wearing the collar tabs of an Unteroffizier, or sergeant--blinks as if caught by surprise. Then--an unsettling grin spreads across his face--and Boris gets a very bad feeling.

Boris's entry.

The loss of Tatiana is something that wears heavily on Boris the rest of his life (several years, as it turns out), and that echoes in his own life in some strange ways. When he's rescued from his tormentors by Didrika--a German female sharpshooter--he at first refuses to believe she's his sole savior, it's not possible that she alone killed all but one of the men who stayed behind after Lange and a few others departed, until Didrika outright asks, "You don't believe a woman can do such a thing on her own?"--he starts to reply that no, it's not possible...and then remembers Tatiana, and shuts up cold. He still can't quite believe Didrika acted alone...but honestly, if Tatiana were the one asking him this right now, could he so easily brush her off? Even with this knowledge, he initially treats Didrika like garbage (he gets drunk his first night alone with her following his rescue, and gets angrier as he gets drunk, and ends up taking that out on her--she doesn't fight back, and insists later on that he didn't force her to do anything, but either way it's a pretty unpleasant experience); yet by the time they locate the rest of his scattered unit, he's accepted that Didrika's claim is true, and defends her to the others when they're hostile toward her. Boris goes so far as giving Didrika his own rifle, recognizing her superior skills; if not for having seen how talented and brave Tatiana was, he likely would never do so. He becomes Didrika's second in command and despite her own dalliances, is loyal to her till the end.

Tatiana echoes in Boris's life in other ways as well. When Mirela appeals to Didrika for training, and Didrika refuses because she doesn't need another woman among her partisans, Boris steps up to the task. Mirela's not very good at marksmanship, or at hand-to-hand fighting...turns out she's most skilled with a knife. (She nearly kills Wehrmacht sniper Ratdog--Didrika's primary rival/enemy--with one.) Boris, obviously seeing parallels with his late sister, takes pride in Mirela's talent, and is her biggest supporter, even defending her to the disgruntled Didrika. Another echo comes in the death of Sgt. Lange; he gets away with numerous crimes during his time in the Wehrmacht, assaulting combatants on both sides of the conflict--including not just Boris, but Trench Rats Teal and Silver, and Ratdog himself (the only one to successfully fend him off--albeit after getting a beating--is Ratdog's bodyguard PFC Klemper, and that likely only because Klemper is high on meth)--yet it's Boris who happens across the perfect opportunity to kill him, stabbing him in the gut with a knife when he's separated from his unit, and leaving him to bleed out much as Tatiana did. He's never discovered as Lange's killer, Lange just has so many victims, and is so widely reviled even by his own people, that frankly, everyone is a suspect.

Then there's Boris's own death at the war's end. Alone, shot in the gut, he drags himself into a ditch, knowing he's unlikely to make it. When Ratdog finds him, he's sure the sniper will kill him, yet Ratdog refrains--he has a personal policy against targeting the wounded, and just lost Klemper, so he's deep in grief and tired of killing. He instead empties his revolver of all but one bullet and gives the gun to Boris to "use wisely." A bit of the old spite flares up in Boris, and he aims at Ratdog--"At least I can take out one dirty Kraut before I die"--but Ratdog's indifference to the threat makes him hesitate, and he realizes the shot won't be worth it, will mean absolutely nothing. He and Ratdog might be enemies but Ratdog isn't the one who's harmed him. Ratdog leaves, and after some time spent steeling himself--he thinks of Tatiana, and what she summoned the courage to do--Boris readies Ratdog's gun, puts it to his head, and closes his eyes. Ratdog's step falters briefly when he hears the gunshot behind him, but he keeps on walking.

Didrika is the one to find Boris's body. She shoots Ratdog in retaliation--recognizing his revolver in Boris's hand--yet is rattled when the wounded sniper merely yells at her to finish the job, he has nothing left to live for. She belatedly realizes that he's mourning a painful loss, just like she is. When he passes out from blood loss (the same manner in which Klemper died, BTW), she drags him back to his home, tends to his wound, and saves his life; also like him, she's tired of all the killing. Although they never fall in love with each other--those feelings are reserved for Boris, and Klemper--they remain with each other, understanding each other's grief, and name their children accordingly: Their son is named Godfrey, after Klemper, and then comes a daughter--Didrika is dismayed at first, she'd hoped for another boy she could name Boris, so Ratdog--now going by his name Adel--asks if there was any woman important to Boris.

Didrika doesn't have to think long before remembering the "baby sister" Boris always spoke of so fondly. "Tatiana," she says, and thus their daughter is named. As she cradles the whimpering girl, Didrika admits to Adel, "Boris would've hated me naming a baby after him, anyway."

Tatiana, as an adult, names her own son Hans, after Adel's first son, her deceased half-brother, the reason Adel took up a rifle in the first place, which later brought him in contact with Boris and Didrika...so things come full circle, in an odd way.

[Tatiana 2024 [‎Friday, ‎October ‎18, ‎2024, ‏‎12:02:23 AM]]

[Tatiana 2024 2 [‎Friday, ‎October ‎18, ‎2024, ‏‎12:03:11 AM]]

[professionalnooneatall]

Pioneering International Hospital DeMystifiying Vampire Health

BUDAPEST, Hungary — "Honestly, picking the name was the hardest part!" said Dr. Wilhelmina Van Helsing.

She has a stately office that looks into the lobby of Voivode Vlad III Hospital and Hospice which doesn't have a lot of natural light as many members of the vampire community have mild to severe sunlight allergies.

Of course, the locals generally refer to the place as "Dracula's Hospital."

Old habits. You can see the Danube from the roof, but it's not close to any of the iconic views of the city and the building itself is aggressively modern with an exterior mezzanine surrounding the entire structure where most of the offices are located. At the main entrance, there is a statue of the buildings name sake with an inscription in Hungarian: "Végre meglátom a Napot a családommal." "At last, I see the sun, with my family." Who that family is, is often debated but many, many people make the claim.

When Voivode Vlad III Dracula of Wallachia died, there was a massive weeklong funeral, but also a celebration, of his life and achievements.

His lasting contributions to medical sciences saved millions of lives across many communities but superstitions and religious factions insisted he was still alive and conspiracy theories abounded.

When I bring up conspiracy theories, of course, Van Helsing couldn't hide her disgust. Like her great-grandfather, she has a strong jawline of the Van Helsing's but there is a softness in her eyes from the Harker side of the family.

"Vampires are not magical beings, they have regular lifespans and they can take two the three times as long to die of old of age, certainly, but they do die. All human bodies grow old, and wear and tear is par for the course." She said.

"Vampires believing themselves to be immortal has actually been the worst thing for the vampire community itself," she said.

We are walking toward the dining hall as she speaks and as it is daytime, the overall activity level of the hospital is very low.

The daytime staff is largely human as well and during the day shift the dining hall serves more human food, from pan-European, Asian and Middle-Eastern delicacies to more standard western fare like burgers and fries.

It is, after all, an international institution.

There are also blood packs being stocked in refrigerated units in a circular formation at the center of dining hall.

"While vampires are stronger, and more durable than people to a certain extent, they can still get many diseases humans get and in some regards, those diseases are far worse for vampires. Respiratory diseases, such as Covid, have permanent consequences for vampires, especially unvaccinated vampires."

Van Helsing spear-headed studies of vampire physiology with the same vigor as the COVID-19 vaccine development. Her initial theory - that turned out to be entirely correct - is because vampires' entire diet consists primarily of blood and water - though it should be supplemented with electrolytes - their repository functionality is actually their most critical physiological need, followed closely by kidney and liver function which are more robust than humans in the baseline, but if impeded by disease a vampire can become weaker than a baseline human and yes, die.

Much like many people subject to the evils of white supremacy, vampire populations were subjugated, murdered, and even experimented on in some cases.

Biologically, vampire genetics have only recently been studied and the human genome project revealed them to be more human than anything else.

This discovery was not without controversy.

Nore was Van Helsing herself.

"That goddamned novel," she grimaced as she bit into a precariously stuffed hoagie and continued to speak around the food. "It kills me because Stoker was a big friend of the family and he wrote it as kind of a joke!"

A brown sauce drips down her chin as finishes chewing and swallows.

"As in satire?" I asked.

"I couldn't say; I only heard about him Gradad Vlad but he never said anything bad about him," she said. "It seemed like he missed him and he'd outlived so many people by the end he was just very melancholy,"

Vampire's greater durability and longer lives contribute to what is currently decimating the oldest generation of the vampire community: suicide.

Dr. Mahmood Ibn DuPris, a psychologist specializing in meta-human mental health has many concerns about the vampire community that suicide is chief among them.

DuPris has a calm, soothing demeanor but there is an undercurrent of intensity there because his first job was with the United States Veterans Administration. He is noticeably thin, in a very stately cardigan and button-down that gives him a college professor vibe.

"The whole idea of vampires being monsters and murderers is, of course, false," he said over tea in his office.

"A vampire can thrive on almost any kind of blood from any living thing on earth," he said. "It's a volume issue and it's actually good for vampires, mentally and physically, to have a good variety."

Mammals have hemoglobin, but there are also hemocyanin, erythrocruorin-chlorocruorin, and hemerythrin, the four major classes of respiratory fluids.

"If it bleeds, you should eat it," DuPris said, making reference to an Arnold Schwarzenegger film from the 1980s but also quoting a Vampire Nutrional Health poster I saw in a few languages around the facility.

What is an obscure reference to many today, it is actually a good way to reach the most recent generation of vampires because two counterculture movements - punk rock and goth - saw the vampire population explode around the world.

"Most importantly," Dr. Van Helsing said, "That taught us all that vampires are not a contagion. It's an inherited trait and 'half vampires' don't exist."

This took me by surprise and Van Helsing explained further, but the first thing she made clear is that all DNA exists in all humans. Van Helsing's team - none of whom wished to be identified specifically - pointed to the possibility of heteropaternal superfecundation, which, in very rare cases can create a pair of twins with two different skin tones but identical features.

With vampires, the gene to make them a vampire can be carried by either parent, and if one parent is a vampire the chance of having a vampire child initially is only fifty percent. After that? The chance actually appears to go down.

However, if both parents are vampires, which became common in the 70's and 80's, then it's seventy-five percent for every child.

This is the revolutionary aspect of their research because vampire families were often extremely subdued about their biological needs.

Those mostly vampire families are among the strongest, but even so parents would often outlive non-vampire children, which is psychologically taxing. Siblings outliving siblings that are the same age is also common and another stressor for vampires.

Then all their human acquaintances, spouses, and fellow service members should a vampire choose to - and be allowed to - serve in their country's military. "The military suicide rate is dreadfully high," said Du Pris. "Add being a vampire and the GWOT [Global War on Terror - ed] generation? One is too many, as we say, but 20% is a bloody health crisis." While the average vampiric nutritional need is roughly three and a half pints of any respiratory fluids - about 2275 calories - the most common method for vampires to attempt suicide is sunlight. Sunlight doesn't turn vampires into dust. They do burn badly and far quicker than a human exposed to a desert sun, but it is not fast enough for most vampires to change their minds and seek medical attention. This is why, initially, the ER at Voivode Vlad III Hospital and Hospice was the busiest from sunrise to sunset for six months. To recover from prolonged sunlight exposure it takes, in addition to painkillers, ten to fifteen pints - 6500 to 9750 - of blood directly fed to them to prevent permanent damage and to ensure no increase in long-term susceptibility to cancer. Vampires are exceptionally susceptible to cancer to begin with. "And we will find out why," said Van Helsing. "What is good for vampires is good for everyone in nearly every sense."

[adventuresinclientservice]

A clean sheet.

Before you pass on this, let me assure you this isn’t going to be about laundry, or why your bed needs attention.  Instead, my story begins with soccer, or better put everywhere but here, about football.  Why do we call it soccer?  Because in the U.S., football means something entirely different; just turn on the television any Sunday afternoon.  You’ll see.

This won’t take long.

I’m not much of a fan.  The women’s game I follow, given how awesome they are.  The men’s?  Not so much.  Even so, I was drawn to view the FX documentary series, Welcome to Wrexham, with me just finishing the 15th episode of the second season.  Out of respect for those still watching, I will forego spoilers.

I do, however, want to call your attention to a scene from episode nine of the second season. 

Three football journalists/commentators are speaking about the game when the subject of the goaltender’s role comes up.  One of the journalists says,

“Goalkeeper is the hardest position on the field [don’t they call it a “pitch” instead of a field?].  You can … You can make ten saves.  You make one mistake, you’re the villain here.”

He’s right of course.  Who else becomes the villain in similar situations?  Account people, except the “pitch” is the office and the competition isn’t an opponent; it’s with work that demands flawless execution, completed on time, on budget, on strategy.  You think being a goalkeeper is hard, try being an Account person.

An Account person could do 99 things right every day, but if there’s a mistake – a missed schedule, a budget screw-up, a failure to follow-up, you name it – that Account person is the one likely to take the blame, from colleagues, and most especially, from clients. 

The difference between a goalkeeper and an Account person is the keeper might miss one shot, maybe two or even three, but the team still can win the game.  An Account person, in contrast, lives in an environment where a single mistake, large or small, trivial or not, quickly can become a force multiplier, putting victory, however you choose to define it, in doubt. 

What’s worse is many mistakes are not even made by Account people; someone else -- Planners, Creatives, Media and Production folks, finance people, just about everyone in an agency -- might have a hand in them, or even own them. 

You might be thinking, “That doesn’t seem right, and it sure isn’t fair.”  I, however, with respect, think otherwise.

An Account person’s responsibility isn’t necessarily to prevent mistakes – ideal if you can, but pragmatically speaking, not likely with every account every day – but to mitigate them when they occur, as they surely will.  How?  By being quick to respond, thoughtful in suggesting possible solutions, fast to rectify what’s wrong, and certain in the assurance that a mistake made once won’t be a mistake made twice.

Goalkeepers are a team’s last line of defense; they succeed when they achieve what’s called a “clean sheet” --- “Ahh, now I get the title” --meaning a shutout, with no goals allowed.  They do their job well and it can save their team a victory.

Like goalkeepers, Account people are an agency’s last line of defense; they succeed when they achieve a clean sheet on an account, or close to it – incredibly hard, but not impossible -- so when the time comes, their job saves  colleagues from certain defeat.