#the potential that can be mined from these two if Riot lets them exist in the same room for more than 10 seconds

[thatgaiagirl]

A Mini Rant about Yasuo’s Lore and what could be done with it

There were so many missed opportunities here and examples Riot could have drawn from, and I’m gonna lay it out.

The main problem is that Yasuo’s story premise was based on him being ‘The Unforgiven’, and through progressing his story via Confessions of a Broken Blade and Yone’s return, in order to have that same conceit he can never fully forgive himself, and therefore literally every story arc he has gotten since Spirit Blossom had been him learning to forgive himself again and again and again. Ruined King did it, the Yasuold skin is implying it, Riot won’t let him do anything else.

And I just. Ok there are ways to do this and I think the premium example to point to is Graves.

Graves was also released with a specific concept; he was hunting Twisted Fate for revenge. That was his whole thing. And in Burning Tides, he actually confronts Twisted Fate and moves his story forward. Riot would’ve been arguably more justified in keeping Grave’s lore state the same than in Yasuo’s case, but no; he and Twisted Fate legitimately start working together again and their story permanently moves forwards after that. And just - Yone’s release and the whole Spirit Blossom event was PERFECT to do that for Yasuo.

Imagine if Yasuo decided to hunt the Azakana with his brother - maybe in an effort to redeem himself in his own eyes even if Yone doesn’t want him dead, maybe to help his brother learn what he’s become, there’s many reasons why he would do this. Imagine a Demon Hunter Yasuo lore skin that shows him in a better mental place, travelling alongside Yone killing Azakana. Honestly you could make that happen in current lore - it would not be hard to have the brothers meet each other again. But just - do ANYTHING with him, have Yone’s return MEAN something. Yasuo is a popular champion and a lore update like that could be a great marketing ploy as well, if we’re also thinking from the business side of things.

Another option would’ve EASILY been giving him a Sentinel skin. The event kind of sucked, yes, but there was legitimate set-up for him to be there. As it is, he returns Braum to the Freljord and then goes to free Riven… only for the Sentinels to get there first. The Sentinels could’ve burst in mid-jailbreak with both Yasuo and Riven there, and there’s no reason for Yasuo NOT to join them if that happens. Again, missed lore skin potential for a popular champion (I do not count Sea Dog Yasuo, that’s just… ok why? Sentinel would’ve been a better fit), he would’ve been an interesting personality to add to the mix, and if he returns with Riven to their village at the end of it, it could’ve been an ACTUAL book-end to his character arc with him CHOOSING to return to his hometown instead of staying the wanderer.

Either of these could’ve actually done shit with him but. Eh. Anyways I have brainrot so I may actually end up drawing either a Sentinel or Demon Hunter Yasuo for the fun of it. Probably Demon Hunter, I have a way you could theoretically get him to that point from his current place in the story so. Anyway.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

open the door and let the flood back in (Loki & Sylvie, 1k words, just a little speculation for the end of episode 4) Rating: General Warnings: no archive warnings apply; references to mind control; very vague reference to torture Summary: Loki's awkwardness would be at least a little endearing under almost any other circumstances, Sylvie thinks, but there’s not much room for anything else alongside the numb hollowness of defeat. (A little speculation, at the last minute when it's no doubt about to be proven wrong, on what Loki might have said at the end of episode 4, other than the obvious, if he hadn't been interrupted. Spoilers through episode 4, obviously. Can be read as shippy or not.)

The nerve endings in my arms are working just fine, yeah, Sylvie almost says, but the snark doesn’t come so easily with the fake Time-Keeper’s head on the floor nearby, and that makes her pause long enough to realize that yes, there’s…something else, something deep inside the core of her magic that she’s never felt before. Something like—the recognition of a touch, or an echo, or both at once even if that really doesn’t make sense. Like she’s reaching out in the dark by instinct, and she knows someone else is reaching back.

She frowns. “Are you doing something?”

“I think we’re doing something,” he says, and now she can feel it, a flicker of suppressed excitement that isn’t just hers.

Sylvie’s eyes widen. “You are not in my head.”

“I’m not,” Loki says. “We’re just—listen, I’ve read about this. It was only ever a theory, nobody’s ever been able to do it properly, but there were scholars who suggested that two people could link their magic together, if—if their souls were similar enough, I think that was how it was discussed at the time, and create something like a feedback loop, continuously amplifying each other’s power. But strangers could never do it because they didn’t know and trust one another, let alone deeply and openly enough to allow that kind of connection, and even for people who did, mages who were lovers or lifelong friends, even if they both genuinely wanted to make the link, their magic wasn’t quite compatible. Not enough for that. A couple pairs of twins came the closest, I think, but all they could really do was boost each other’s power a little, so it was never worth the energy expenditure.”

“Because they weren’t the same,” Sylvie says. She’s pretty sure she can guess where he’s going with this.

“Two variants of the same being—we’re different people, we learned magic differently, we use it in different ways, but it’s still—the root is the same. The energy signature.” He grins. “They did say our temporal aura was the same. They just didn’t realize why it mattered. Or maybe they did, and that’s one reason they made sure only one of us could exist at a time.”

Sylvie is used to drawing power from her core and reaching out with it to take control of other minds. It’s easy enough, most of the time, because she has the process down, but it was exhausting when she was still experimenting—is exhausting, if she spends enough time fighting a strong mind or trying to control too many people at once. She pulls on a tendril of magic and feeds it into the little knot of Loki’s power, and—

It doesn’t disappear. It comes back stronger. In her mind’s eye, their magic glows brighter together, like a fire growing as it finds more to burn. “Okay, yeah, that’s new.”

“The theory was—an exponential increase for both mages. Doubling their power at minimum, like…like two wavelengths amplifying each other, or maybe a lot more than that.” He pushes power into the connection, more than she’d tried, and she can feel it: magnifying her power, which feeds back into his and strengthens it again, which expands hers in return, and they’ve barely even started.

“A lot more,” Sylvie says, staring at him, her mouth suddenly very dry. “Like nuclear fusion levels of a lot.”

His eyes gleam in the dim light. “Exactly. And I think that’s what caused the nexus event. I think our magic would have done it at the last second to save us, and I think we would’ve saved what was left of Lamentis-1 in the process.”

A burst of involuntary magic from both of them at once, at the moment that would otherwise be their deaths, doubling again and again as it passed back and forth between their joined hands—yeah, actually, she can see it. It doesn’t sound so absurd when she can still feel their linked power multiplying right now and they’ve hardly tried. “That’s insane.”

“Goes without saying.”

“We could—” She swallows. “We could do anything.”

“We could do anything,” Loki agrees.

“And do we? Trust each other that much?” she asks, but to be honest she already knows the answer. She reaches back for him, finally, settling her hands on his forearms, and his skin twitches under her fingers—like when she first put her hand on his arm on Lamentis, and he flinched like the last thing he expected was a gentle touch.

Loki’s mouth twists in a faintly sardonic half-smile. “I’m not…good with trust. Gave too much of it for a long time, maybe. And then—” He hesitates. “We might…share some memories, and I haven’t—the TVA knows what happened, I suppose. But there’s a good reason I’ve made sure nobody can get into my head again. You might see why, and it’s…not pretty.”

Okay, yeah, she can imagine a few different reasons for that and none of them are very pleasant. That flinch could hint at an ugly story too. She pulls his hands down, just far enough to interlace her fingers with his, and meets his gaze squarely. “My memories aren’t a laugh riot either. Do you trust me with yours?”

Loki squeezes her hands, just a little. “Yes, actually. You?”

She cocks one eyebrow at him. “Be a little inappropriate to say I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, right?”

He coughs out a laugh. “Maybe a little. So—do you want to try? See what kind of universe-disrupting chaos we can make?”

She tightens her grip. “Yeah. Hell yeah.”

***

[I didn't exactly come up with this idea--I developed more detail about the whole idea of magical amplification, but I know I came across at least one Tumblr post theorizing that Loki and Sylvie were about to do something that would save Lamentis, which was actually caused the nexus event and the TVA's intervention rather than them falling in love or whatever. Unfortunately I'm not actually sure who posted that, and my drafts and likes are already a nightmare, but I will make every effort to find the original post and link to it. I just really wanted to get this posted while, you know, we still can theorize.

Do I think this was actually the intent of the scene? Not really, no, although it sure would've been cool. Is it a little silly to write this when I could potentially find out in just over two hours how wrong I am? Maybe a little bit but on the other hand I finished a short fic and the whole entire point of what I’ve been writing lately is to try to finish some short no-pressure fics without letting them turn into a whole complicated thing in my head, and you know what it fulfills that purpose so I'm cool with it. AO3 link in the notes, just wanted to post it here because it’s short, it’s speculative, and Tumblr hates links.]

[im-the-punk-who]

Hey because I'm not sure we've talked about her yet, but tell me about Madi? 💜

YES! I will talk about Madi. 

How I feel about this character

Ugh so, like all the female characters, I LOVE her personally, but I hate her ending, how her character is written, and how she differs from her historical counterpart. 

I really love Madi as a character. Especially as such a well rounded, beautifully acted, IMPORTANT character, she is so important. I was watching Black Sails with a black friend of mine, and he said that, even with the ending, even though it’s not good, he could forgive Black Sails because of the things he’s so often used to seeing that they didn’t do. Madi lives. LOVE for Madi is what makes the revolution fail(and yeah, it sucks that it’s against her agency, but the point he made was that you NEVER see LOVE for a BLACK WOMAN be the thing that stops the world.) Black Sails without Madi is a completely different story, and I love that she is an active part of the plot as well as important enough to other characters(not just Silver, Flint, her mother, the alliance, all rely on her at some point. Even Rogers recognizes her value.) That, as low a bar as it is, is an important one.

I love that she’s smart and hopeful and determined. I see her very much as a parallel to Thomas, even moreso than Flint, in that she believes in things with her whole being. She has that line from Don Quixote to Flint, but I think it’s as much a dig at herself as it is at Flint. 

“Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be.”

Flint has just told her exactly what could be accomplished if they are successful. He’s not dreaming, he sees the world in terms of if/then. But she sees the future beyond that. She sees the possibility and she’s drawing the parallel(unknowingly) between herself and Thomas and I LOVE it.

But she’s also SMART, she’s WHIP fucking SMART and she KNOWS how to lead her people and she is confident in herself. She is tough, there isn’t an ounce of self-doubt in her and the way that shows the LOVE she must have known growing up??? Just. I love Madi because I love how much she is loved. But also like, she is allowed to be naive in some ways, to be over confident and over trusting. She’s allowed to have flaws that I don’t think detracts from her value as a character, but are the natural progression when someone who, by her mother’s own admission, has been sheltered but still knows of injustice.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Pre-finale I LOVE her and Silver. I thought there was such potential there for her to become his rock, to show him that there were rewards, to be his Thomas, in a way, to love him surely enough that he could take the chance to crack himself open and start healing the hurt parts. And I think then he absolutely would have been ride or die - part of what I hate so much is the parallel between Thomas and James, and Madi and Silver, is that Thomas and James were able to have the time to build that and Madi and Silver weren’t. And the tragedy is that it ends in so much more heartbreak than just personal ones, because of who Madi is, what she represents, and when it happens.

Post finale I ship Madi with whoever and whatever makes her fucking goddamn happy and that probably isn’t John Silver at this point.

BUT my two crack ships are Eleanor/Madi bc i’m ALL about that girlhood bromance and the POWERSHARING dynamic between them??? Magnifique. and Madi/Joshua because Joshua is a fucking dumbass but also has a great heart and seems like a good guy and cares and makes connections and has dumbass false teeth and Madi deserves someone who will be loyal to her and understand her and make her smile.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

GIVE MADI HER GAY UNCLES JAMES MCGRAW AND THOMAS HAMILTON OR I WILL RIOT.

Like my absolute ABSOLUTE non romantic OTP to END all OTPs is Madi and Flint. Because I do think she and Thomas are so similar in so many ways, and honestly just because Flint and Madi get along???? so well?????? like when they do become friends, and they connect, you can tell like, Flint’s just like YES. ANOTHER DAUGHTER. GREAT. THIS IS MORE THAN FINE. and just penguin waddles his way over there and like???? and then Madi - who for all she has HAD Mr. Scott hasn’t really ...experienced the True Dad Energy like that? And she finds in him a partner too, someone who sees the possibility and the freedom that she has been searching for on her island and never finding. Her mother has that line 

“they are dangerous, their ideas are dangerous - especially to you.”

Madi didn’t become a revolutionary when the pirates found their island. I get the feeling this has been something she’s been arguing with her mother for a while, and now, with Flint, she’s FOUND that kindred spirit and I just???? love them???????? So much?????????

And especially post finale. Just....just give Madi her gay uncles, James who is like, so chill??? Now that he’s away from having to lead people and be responsible for people’s lives, and he’s FUNNY and she’s never actually seen him smile like that before?? And he plays with all the kids wherever he is and they NEVER mcfucking want him to leave. And Thomas who will talk to her from dusk until dawn about treaties and British Law and how to circumvent this clause or extort this particular weakness. 

And at first she’d been weary - after everything with John - of trusting another group of white men. But from the first moment it’s been clear that here, her word will be respected and her wishes upheld because she and Flint share that vision and so does Thomas, and the reports she gets back from the escaped slaves who have reached freedom through the encampment that now sits where Oglethorpe’s plantation once was. 

And while she is learning from her mother she is also learning from Julius, from Eme, from Flint, from Thomas. She learns, and learns, and when it’s finally ready for her to step into her mother’s shoes it is a seamless and peaceful thing, like one exhale flowing into the next inhale, it doesnt start or end with violence and wailing, but with laughter, and joy - bittersweet but there all the same - and okay this kind of got away from me give MADI NICE THINGS OR I WILL RIOT.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Huh I don’t....honestly know enough about the popularity of opinions on Madi to know what’s unpopular but I feel like ‘Silver doesn’t deserve her’ is at least a somewhat controversial take? I don’t know OH. Wait I know what my unpopular opinion will be:

She shouldn’t have existed because she exists solely to be a love interest to Silver where the real person she is based off of was an old matron Queen who is basically the Maroon Queen in BS just with Madi’s actual drive and she so badass we STILL use the guerilla tactics she developed to use against the British today but Steinberg was like ‘No, I think a black, 60 y/o Xena is boring, let’s make that part of the character basically non-existent and give her role to the 20 y/o daughter and also make her in need of saving from the white man. That’s hot.’

Cool. I will expect your assassins at dawn.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Eleanor/Madi WHEN

MADI/JOSHUA WHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also that her storyline hadn’t been shoved aside for the emotional angst of the white men, that we had seen more of her in the aftermath, that she had been given agency in her own future and in the future of her people that she clearly believed in. I just wanted good things for Madi and for her to be respected as a character.

To that end, what I wish WOULD happen is that she teams up with Thomas and James at the Savannah BnB to basically completely ignore the treaty with the British, funnel slaves off the islands, and, while they don’t restart the war, they still help to undermine slavery in the Bahamas and the Colonies and uhhh basically everything i said up under the non-romantic OTP. xD

Assuming the assassins don’t get to me, ASK ME ABOUT MY OPINIONS

[rubik-ashala]

Valenwind but the Demons are Symbiotes.

This is my most recent head cannon of the valenwind ship. I had this idea after watching and getting into the venom fandom for a while and this idea came to me. Instead of the demons just being monsters determined to destroy Vincent or being representatives of different parts of his psyche, I decided to make them a race of beings of their own. That come in two types and come from the life stream.

Symbiotes, once they leave the life stream, need to either have a host to survive, or have been around long enough and become strong enough that they can form their own body. 

Parasites are symbiotes that became predatory either to other symbiotes or to the hosts they inhabit and only consume them when they bond. 

A symbiote can be both or go from one to the other and back if they choose too.

Chaos or Cass as he is called in my potential fic is the oldest and one of the strongest of the symbiotes in existence. He met Vincent when Vincent was a child and saved him from getting lost in the woods. In return, Vincent and his family gave him the resources to form a body and became Vincent's de-facto adopted brother and was with Vincent for most of his life. Until Hojo came in.

When Hojo came in he not only took Vincent but found Chaos as well and through much pain and trauma put Chaos into Vincent, bonding them together. But when he also tried to put Death Gigas and Hellmasker in, Chaos had to use nearly all of his strength to subdue them so they didn't kill Vincent and ended up giving birth to Galien Beast to protect Vincent while he went dormant to recover.

When the group first meets Galien, it’s when they meet the Materia Keeper in the mountains and she rips it a new one after it nearly kills the party. Unfortunately because of the fear the group shows off it makes Galien back away and act aggressively and they deem her dangerous.

When they meet Cid, he finds offense that nobody seems to introduce Vincent to him and takes it upon himself to Introduce himself to the man. Not scared of the man at all. A fact that interests Vincent since the rest of the group seems to be at the least wary of him.

When Galian comes out again, she backs up into a corner after killing the monsters and exhibits the same aggressive behavior from before. Cid see’s this and is the first to notice that she is just scared and yells at the rest of the group, “Put your fucking weapons away! It’s just scared and your making it Fucking worse!”

Cid, in a country boy fashion that includes several pieces of jerky, is able to gently calm her down and win her over. Proving to the group that she means no harm and is actually the sweetest werewolf creature on the planet.

Vincent is incredibly thankful and amazed and begins to trust the gruff pilot because of this.

When Death Gigas comes out, Cid reacts similarly as before but quickly realizes that Death Gigas is more like an angry child that is constantly overwhelmed by everything. Leaning more towards him being on the autistic spectrum in terms of mannerisms. Needs more research though. He is much harder to win over but eventually this one eventually at least lets Cid near him and later the rest of the group.

After this though Vincent starts feeling Hellmasker begin to stir and issues a warning to not just Cid but the group. He also fully explains the remaining two symbiotes to Cid, knowing what may be to come. It is the first time Cid has seen Vincent truly afraid of something.

Hellmasker, unlike the two they had met, is a manipulative psychopath and a parasite. He loves to destroy any hosts they are apart of by destroying thier lives first. Vincent knows that, as soon as he is able to take over, the group and most importantly Cid, would be in great danger.

And unfortunately, the only one strong enough to stop him was Chaos who was still laying dormant.

And just as expected, Hell masker starts to manipulate and pick at Vincent's mind as soon as he realized he is awake. He whispers into Vincent’s head about all the things wrong he has done, starts forcibly taking over to mess with the rest of the group, and then starts going after Cid once he figures out that Vincent had started to grow feelings for him. 

However, during one of the conversations he has with Hell masker, he realizes that, for some strange reason, Hell masker only has knowledge of his memory form before he was locked away. Hell masker could still access Vincent's thoughts as he thought them but any attempt to search his memory from after that point Hell masker couldn’t get.

(Something about how traumatic the force bonding was when Hell masker was put in made it unable to completely connect to Vincent's mind. Still working on it.)

Once this is revealed Hell masker turns instead to Galian and Death gigas, attacking one and manipulating the other. In hopes he can become the only one left and take over Vincent completely in order to consume him.

After a time Vincent is rendered incapacitated by the fighting inside of his own body and the sounds of Galian and Death gigas trying to fight off the much stronger Hell masker. 

The group watch the fight, much like Venom and Riot at the end of the movie, but sourcing form Vincent's open mouth. AS they watch Death gigas get consumed and Hell masker going after Galian they hear something seemingly bust open inside of Vincent.

(Think Vincent on his knees, head thrown back, mouth open, but from out of his mouth is a large gooey mass with multiple colors fighting each other floating above him.)

And another symbiote enters the fight. Right before the new symbiote starts ripping the other apart and consuming it, they hear “NO! How are you out?” “You attacked what is mine. I woke up.”

After the last two symbiotes sink back into Vincent he collapses and is rendered unconscious. However after a few moments, Vincent groans a bit, but a different voice comes out and instead of red eyes , the eyes are molten gold.

When Cid asks, “Vin, is that you?”

He hears, “Vincent Valentine isn’t available right now, please leave a message after the beep. BEEEEP.”

Chaos is proven to be a wise ass who swears at about the same rate as Cid does but talks more freely than Vincent about anything and everything. Not too mention how brutally honest he can be. It ruffles some feathers.

Especially when Cass takes over to give a few members of the group a few hard truths.

But Cid and Cass get along fabulously.

Chaos is also the hardest shipper of Cid and Vin and is the best friend rooting the two of them on.

[vaguely-gestures-to-the-void]

Hindsight: My thoughts on Loki (2021)

As always, thanks for being here my friends. There’s definitely more nuanced discussion of this show, but I’m here for the vibes. Anyways, here’s my thoughts on Episode 3 of Loki. Bear in mind I hadn’t watched episode 4 before I wrote the review for 3. No hate on anyone/thing, it’s all my opinion.

Episode 3: LAMENTIS

Pre-title scene

I rioted when I heard Hayley’s voice. It’s a win for all of us.

C-20! Sylvie!

C-20’s lil dance was adorable. I love her.

I want Sylvie’s tie dye.

Is that Ralph Bohner?

The same place, but at night. Coincidence? I think not.

Sylvie’s powers have limits. She can’t search someone’s mind and take information, she needs them to willingly tell her though she can use her powers to do that.

TVA

Sylvie’s experienced. Always tie your hair into a bun before a fight.

Her music is nothing like what we’ve heard previously. It’s the Sylvie show folks.

The mural on the left side of the hall is the one from the credits scene.

The plaque above the elevators says ‘FOR ALL TIME ALWAYS’.

Even in the mural on the right side, the Time Keepers aren’t equal, the middle one takes up the most space.

Ravonna!

I love how their movements are similar. The head-snap-hair-flip combo is nearly identical, reflecting how they are the same person to some extent.

2077 Lamentis - 1

“Get off my leg!” SiblingTM energy.

“Goodbye, variant.” She sure has the Loki drama.

I finally remembered it’s called a TemPad. Rip.

“Don’t ever call me that.”

“Tech savvy?”

That’s so Ragnarok.

I love the music as we pan up to the planet. It’s the familiar, anxiety-inducing ticking for me lads.

“You idiot! This is Lamentis - 1.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

My siblings when I can’t restart the router (every country has an AT&T).

I like that it’s a moon that’s inhabited. It’s nearly always the planet, still not great for the people on it.

That slide to get under the dump truck was so smooth.

“So we’re a team now?” Jesus Loki needs friends. Probably a good therapist too.

“Didn’t need your help!”

“You’re so weird!”

I like the way Tom runs. Don’t know why. Just do.

Sidenote, my favourite running form is Chris Evans’.

Sylvie’s magic flickered so I genuinely think the enchantment didn’t work.

“Well then I’ll cut it out.” I like the way she says that. I am questioning so many things rn.

“Just because I have to work with you doesn’t mean I wanna hear your voice.” It’s ironic since they spend so much time talking about themselves.

“Alright, well, slow down… Variant.” They really play off each other’s egos to find weaknesses.

“You don’t know what you want.” Sylvie’s more straightforward in everything she does. She efficiently points out Loki’s flaws but when it comes to a goal, she’s meticulous.

“...just walk away.” Loki stops walking, but Sylvie does walk away. There is distance between them (for now).

I’ve had experience with mining towns like this one and whilst they weren’t so out-of-this-world (ya know) there is a tendency for rural and isolated communities to struggle with old/not maintained infrastructure. This is not everywhere, but it’s not uncommon from what I know. Even though these towns are a source of wealth, there isn’t distribution of the money and it’s a grim reality that’s being shown. I appreciate it.

The shot of them walking past a slab of that planet towards the hut is incredible. Wow.

The person in there is just waiting for their death. I’m going to be addressing a lot of the harsh realities in this episode folks so it won’t be so cheerful.

I understand that people weren’t so happy with this being a filler episode, but I think they got it right. It’s strange that a literal planet-moon collision doesn’t bring the tension that the hurricane did in the last ep, but by having an atmosphere that wasn't so omnius, they conveyed (to me at least) that hope was already lost. In the Roxxcart Disaster, the people believed that it wasn’t going to be the end. There’s desperation on Lamentis - 1 but as Sylvie said, the collapse of society occurs. That’s a large group of people realising that class divides will cause slaughter. It’s greed portrayed in two different ways, one being the integration of excessive capitalism into society, the other being social structure based on oppression. Not everyone’s reading into Loki like this but it’s a change from how Marvel usually approaches conflict.

We learnt about the characters and whilst I’m not a fan of when a plot line is moot (my bet is that Loki and Sylvie will be rescued next ep, making all the attempts to get off Lamentis - 1 pointless), it’s necessary for the characters to develop. The way Loki and Sylvie end up on Lamentis - 1 makes sense and the plot doesn’t feel forced.

“It’s remarkable that you made it as far as you did.”

Devils is recurring in this episode. Maybe this has implications on future episodes?

“Which one was that, diplomacy?” Why are their interactions so funny?

I don’t think I need to comment on the significance of the train station scene.

I would like to acknowledge that though this is good writing that’s relevant in the time it was released, we shouldn’t forget it’s coming from large corporations who aren’t perfect.

How do they just walk past the line?

The people who snitched were right in front of them.

Did the cat get Loki’s silvertongue? That was the most graceless lying I’ve ever seen.

Sylvie not sitting with her back to a door makes sense, but why won’t Loki go backwards on a train? They both have little quirks.

“That’s not a plan. That’s just doing a thing.” Loki went to the Thor school of planning, it’s Get Help all over again.

Loki’s exaggerated nods at the other guards lol.

Sylvie growls whenever she’s mad, it’s hilarious.

The close ups of their faces when the conversation gets personal and isn’t just trading jabs is great for conveying the authenticity of their answers.

Loki not pressing Sylvie when she clearly didn’t want to talk about what happened to her mother is something I appreciated.

Here’s to Tom for having to do magic for more than 10 years now. He’s so serious, I can only imagine how funny it is without the effects.

“Well she did.” Yeesh, has Loki gotten time to grieve?

Sylvie is genuinely impressive.

“Pity the old woman chose to die.”

“She was in love.”

I don’t quite understand what they were talking about then, I guess we’ll find out later?

Loki, why are you so unnecessarily dramatic?

I laughed. Who am I kidding, they’re dorks and I love them.

Loki is trying to find out anything, anyone who could be used against Sylvie.

Here’s to the postman, they’re probably dead but we appreciate Sylvie’s happiness anyways.

“A bit of both. I suspect the same as you.” AND THAT’S HOW YOU WRITE IN REPRESENTATION FOLKS!

Let’s just take our scraps and be happy, eh? It made my week.

They both need real relationships of any kind, guys.

“Love is… uh, something I might have to have another drink to think about.” Me whenever anyone asks me about my love life.

“You do realise… ...a civilisation’s only hope?” I think this was Sylvie’s way of making sure Loki’s (albeit grey) morals and drinking habits don’t interrupt her plan.

The train sure gives me Snowpiercer vibes.

Do I have to talk about Drunk Loki?

Tom’s singing voice is lovely.

Sylvie’s eyes shift nervously to the door and then back to Loki. She’s initially tense but she relaxes slightly though she knows she’s gonna have to clean up the mess.

“Nobody cares. It’s the end of the world.” Again, Loki’s headspace is one where existence is futile.

The green walls contrast the purple lighting nicely.

You can see plants (?) from the outside if you look out the windows. Talk about attention to detail.

Bruh what is the dagger about? Drunk Loki’s a comedic genius.

The descending notes in the background of Loki’s fireworks.

Sylvie’s smile when she goes to attack is animalistic. I’d like to see her character explored more in terms of how she views violence.

YEET.

“You’re right. I’m a god.” Loki’s defense mechanism is to state that his motives are above the understanding of others.

“You’re a clown.” Sylvie tells it as it is.

Loki and Sylvie’s reactions to the TVA contrast the most here. Sylvie is potentially motivated by vengeance or a need for revenge whilst Loki has resigned to numbing the pain (for now at least) as he comes to terms with his reality. The question of what drives you is so important for these characters, I’m excited to see whether they’ll find a common ground and wreak havoc on the sacred timeline.

Loki and Sylvie both struggle with communicating in a healthy way. Sylvie calls him out on his directionlessness and Loki tells her what may be the harsh reality of her plan. Neither of them are willing to accept it, but there’s potential for a strong bond if they do.

Sylvie’s scream lmao.

I love the colour of Loki’s pants.

Problem? Solution! Do thing! Is Sylvie’s method of thinking when all is lost.

Gosh I love the shots in this episode.

“That’s a pretty good life.” Sylvie’s definitely not lived as a royal, or not from what she remembers.

“I just need to know if I can trust you.” Sylvie giving up how she enchants people is an olive branch because as useful as the things that Loki told her may have been for manipulation, they both know the importance of her upper hand. But she only relents once Loki doesn’t have the TemPad. Later, when she asks whether she can trust Loki, it’s more of a reassurance because he’s already been vulnerable around her.

The actor’s body language and facial expressions are incredible. Loki’s eyebrow’s furrow slightly when Sylvie mentions C-20’s mind but Tom takes a second for the information to be processed rather than instantly reacting to Sophia’s next line. She does the same when Loki talks about the TVA workers being created. What skilled people they are.

The city is a wonderful piece of set design.

“We do, and you can.” They step into the light, neither of them have tunnel vision and are able to see a bigger picture.

“They’re gonna let these people die.” This show explores a side of Loki we haven’t seen before, his morality and compassion. He has grey areas that could be explored in the next season. It also points back to how Sylvie and Loki differ in their view of others. I think this is partially because of their childhoods. Loki was raised as a prince and cared about his people, but Sylvie doesn’t share that perspective (“...they usually survive”), maybe because of her past. Hopefully in the upcoming episodes we’ll get a bit more of her backstory.

That sequence is beyond words. The constantly rotating and revolving camera really hammers home that it’s a disorienting fight for their lives at the end of the world. I’m speechless, just watch it.

The music in that blue-purple-pink club was banging tho.

Loki and Sylvie’s posture, facial expression and general body movement is similar. The variant point is hammered home here.

It’s interesting how Loki is in shock/denial of the Ark being destroyed whereas Sylvie immediately leaves.

The end music of this episode is beautiful. I love how it all builds to leave us on the soft tones of Dark Moon.

No one’s interested, but my mum and I bonded over the Jim Reeves version of this song and the Bonnie Guitar one.

Ep 3 review

Short episode with not much going on other than character development. However, if the first two were anything to go by, this episode will have greater implications on the plot. The pacing of this show is a bit strange, but we may see this change in the next season.

I mentioned previously that it would be a shame if the entire plot of this episode was made irrelevant by how they get off Lamentis - 1 next ep. This show has been really good at keeping us on our toes with the writing so they probably won’t take turns that have been speculated.

Happy mid-season guys! The following two episodes were apparently Tom’s favourites so we can expect some mayhem up ahead. See you next time!

Here's the link to my Ep 2 review

[script-a-world]

Google Form Ask: I'm working on a fantasy set in kind of an alternate earth that has various nation-states representing various cultures, so I have an idea for one to be a Chinese representation, North African/Middle Eastern pre-Islamic rep, Mediterranean (likely Greek) rep, and various European areas. The nation-states are all under the overarching rule of a monarch in the head nation state. Most of the language for the nation-states in my early draft was based on color names in AngloSaxon (which relates to the colors of their standards, etc), but if they're based on these other nations/cultures, would it be appropriate to come up with names for them in the language in which they're based? (ie a Chinese name, an Arabic name, etc) but having all political language be in that AngloSaxon name they were originally given? (i am white so that's really why i want to be sure i'm giving accurate rep here)

Constablewrites: When languages intersect, the powerful set the standards and the powerless adopt and adapt. It’s such an inherently political process that it can provide some valuable insight into the history of your setting.

The origins of English as a bastard language come from the Norman Conquest, when the French ruled England, and their language was the language of court. But the peasants had no reason to learn that language and continued speaking English. It was the noble class (who had to operate in both worlds) and the merchant class (who wanted to live like nobles) who drove the hybridization and the development of Middle English, and the choices of which language to use for what reflected their class concerns.

For instance, the dirty, farty animal tended by the peasants remained a Saxon cow. But slaughtering it and serving it at table was reserved for the gentry, and accordingly at that point it became boeuf (beef).

One language can be imposed on another people from above, like how the ruling class uses their own words for the mechanisms of government. It can also come from below as people aspire to the ruling class. (Think of the dude who uses overly long Latinate words for everything, even when they’re not really accurate, just to show how educated he is.)

The setup you’ve described is inherently colonial: your Anglo-Saxons conquered everyone else, and hung onto that land for long enough that their language took root. (Note that it doesn’t have to be like that in the present. See Spanish in Latin/South America, or English and French in Africa.) Place names would largely still be in the native language, since those don’t naturally evolve in the way that names for people, things, and actions do. How much else survives of the native language depends on your history and politics: if the lower classes had no need to learn the language of the elite and the upper classes didn’t really care how the peasants spoke, that implies the sort of conquest whose attitude was “your taxes go to us now, otherwise just keep doing what you’re doing and try not to riot k thx” and you’d see that in their other policies. If the ruling classes were actively trying to spread their own culture, that would require stamping out the existing way of life and having a much lower tolerance for the native language. Historically, the latter has been much more common. In those sorts of scenarios, perpetuating the native language, even just in personal names, becomes an act of resistance. If you want to see how this plays out, look at the history of indigenous languages--well, basically anywhere, but especially in North America, and also the evolving debate in immigrant communities about given names and what language is spoken in the home.

There’s nothing wrong with creating this kind of setting, but be aware that presenting it in a neutral or positive light makes just as much of a statement as digging into its flaws. If you don’t want to take that on, or if this doesn’t sound like at all what you were going for, you might need to adjust the approach to language accordingly. A creole or pidgin language ([this Quora article] elaborates on the difference) implies two cultures coming together on a more equal footing. You can also rely on the [translation convention], which says that everything is in English except the names not because the world’s English-equivalent is that dominant, but because you’re writing for readers who speak English and you want them to understand. In that case, you’d use other cues to establish how the cultures manifest and interact with each other.

Feral: If I may, I would like to interpret this question as, “I think my story has elements that are problematic, can you help me identify them?” Because the potential issues I see in the small amount of information given in this ask are much more far reaching than “can I use a real life language as the basis for a fantasy language/naming-system?”

Constable has already pointed out various scenarios throughout real history, so I won’t repeat all of that. But I do need to emphasize one thing:

What you’re describing is colonialism. And it is bad. It is, in fact, evil (if evil exists). We shouldn’t have to say this in 2019. It is completely okay to have colonialism in your worldbuilding; it’s a thing that exists in the real world so it can exist in fiction. But here’s the thing: once more, it’s evil. The Anglo-Saxon imperial power you are describing is evil. They have done an evil thing that the real world analogous cultures actually did do and the effects of which are still very very real and felt by the real world cultures you're having your fictional versions subjugate. Which means they can’t be the good guy. If they are, in the context that you are writing in, your worldbuilding is fundamentally racist. And I know from the very fact that you are asking for help that this is the farthest thing from what you want for your world and your story. But if this is the case, then the only thing you can do is raze the world and start again.

Another thing in your ask that jumped out at me is the phrase “pre-Islamic Middle Eastern/North African rep.” I assume you’re going with pre-Islam for one or both of two reasons. 1) This is a “sandals and sorcery” setting that would take place in an analogous time period to pre-Christian and pre-Islam; your reference to Greece being the inspiration for the “Mediterranean” culture makes me think that pretty much all cultures are being referenced in the BCE (which would be between 500 and a thousand years before the Anglo-Saxon invasion of England, so keep that in mind). 2) You’re concerned about representing an Islamic culture sensitively.

Here’s the thing: there’s no such culture as the Middle East, and definitely not Middle East/North Africa, pre-Islam (one can argue that there’s no such thing as the Middle East pre-WW2, but I do not have time for that argument). The spread of Islam is responsible for whatever homogeny there is between the cultures, and even today, there is not one single culture in the Middle East (a political designation, hence the post-WW2) or in North Africa. There are many cultures between the different countries and between the different ethnic groups within the same countries. Arabic would only be an appropriate reference language if your reference is pre-Islam Arabia, not the whole Middle East, because again Arabic spread through Islam – different places have different native languages which are still the common use languages.

It may just be in the limited space you had for the ask, but the way you’ve represented your worldbuilding makes it seem like your inclusion of these other cultures is more of a check-list style, no-can-call-me-racist-because-I-mention-other-cultures-that-are-different-from-mine attempt than an actual desire to have representation.

Moving onto what is not really problematic in your ask but is confusing… I just don’t understand what the whole color thing is about. That’s not how countries are named. Where do these standards come from? Did all the cultures just happen to have single colored standards that they used to identify themselves pre-invasion/colonization? Or did the Anglo-Saxon culture literally conquer the world through the cunning use of flags [video]?

I would check out this Wiki article on the etymology of country names in English. A good example of how English names for countries do come about is in the name for Japan. Japan is the Anglicization of Marco Polo’s Italianicization of the Shanghai accented pronunciation of 日本, “jitpun,” which has been Japan’s name for itself since the end of the 7th century, is pronounced “nippon” or “nihon” there, and means “land of the rising sun.”

Hello Future Me has a fantastic video on how to go about replicating both native placenames and colonial placenames in your worldbuilding.

Finally, as far as your actual question goes, can you use a real language from a culture not your own to name places in your world? I think you need to do a lot of researching and a lot of revisiting your worldbuilding before you can make that call.

Tex: You have an... interesting collage of places listed. Some of them go into more detail than others - I'm curious why you've picked what you did, and to the depth that you've chosen. Given the Ango-Saxon bias I'm picking up on, can I assume that you're basing the head of this government in England/the UK? If so, I'm also curious to know whether this alternate world is the consequence of a diversion point in our own history (e.g. someone lost a war that let the UK steamroller everyone into the Commonwealth), or if previous other world powers are for some reason less effective at consolidating their powers and conquering their neighbors than the UK (I'm going to keep assuming UK for simplicity's sake in my answer, but feel free to plug in whatever works for you).

There is a bit of an issue with your current set-up, assuming real-world, real-history parallels. The most immediate of which is that humans are quite simply very good at organizing themselves into societies as soon as they've got that sedentary lifestyle (i.e. agriculture) down pat, and this can and has happened in every found and currently living human settlement, with rare exceptions. Statistically speaking, empires are an eventuality, especially given the right combination of genetics (De Neve et al, 2013; Li et al., 2012) and circumstances (The Creativity Post; Zhang et al, 2009; Halverston et al., 2004; Hunt et al., 1999) to launch a would-be leader into capably instituting a strict hierarchy with a penchant toward warfare. Please let it be known that expanding borders is typically a bloody process, because other people get upset if you take their things without permission - namely, their land, food, and women.

(I name "land, food, and women" because 1.) land is a place to grow food, bury your dead, and obtain water, 2.) food is necessary to not die, and 3.) women ensure the existence of the next generation and thus perpetuity of your society/ethnicity. These are integral, and missing even one of them can immediately - or very, very quickly - lead to the downfall of your civilization. The rest are frills that build upon these three components.)

The reason why I'm curious as to the places you've picked is because every single one of them has at least established a kingdom, if not an empire of their own. For the practical reasons of warfare, these are difficult governments to topple and replace with your own (particularly if you're culturally distinct from them, but that's a slightly different topic). Wikipedia has multiple lists about empires across the world: List of largest empires, Colonial empire § List of colonial empires, and List of empires. I’m going to toss in List of people known as “the Great”, to round things out.

The issue, from a would-be conqueror's perspective, in attaining governance of these places is their armies and ability to call upon allies due to their accompanying diplomatic prowess. In order to be formidable, you need an army of your own that's capable of overcoming such an obstacle. If you're canny, you can trade some brute strength for things like economic manipulation and various degrees of diplomacy that probably delve into things like assassination (China and Rome were big fans of these methods to one degree or another).

Pick a region and an era, and you'll find someone that's done exactly that in varying ratios at least once. Sun Tzu's The Art of War comments about warfare to degrees of honorability and the effectiveness of the different grades depending on the situation; familiarizing yourself on that book will help you greatly in laying the foundation of how your world came to be, if you haven't already done so. The history of your world will most definitely set the stage for any era coming after it, particularly if you're writing for a post-"unification" era.

Now, nation-states are a relatively new concept, particularly because they're a combination of two distinct ideas - the nation and the state (this might appear a bit obvious, but please bear with me). Nations have existed for ages because they're defined by a homogenous ethnic group congregated in the same general area - they are typically grouped by a shared bloodline and culture.

States are different in that their primary association is in an organized government that may or may not be constrained to a single ethnicity - borders exist here, whereas in nations borders hold a more ephemeral placement (the people are the border, rather than geographical markers or lines on a paper).

As such, states are a newer concept than nations, and tying the two together generally leads to a majority ethnicity that is frequently enforced by genocide in order to maintain status quo (Wikipedia); this is, incidentally, where laws protecting minorities originate from, a subject of which can and often is used as political leverage for a variety of motivations.

I will also note that nations, being ethnically-oriented, have their people as their borders. As you can imagine, history in a few continents has proven that "rights" to land have been attempted by spreading out an ethnic group via practices such as immigration, inter-marriage with other nations, and purchase of land. You can see inhibitory reactions in legislation via things like restrictions on religions (forbidding the practice of certain religions), clothing (forbidding or dictating types of clothing - frequently on both class and gender lines), marriage (enforcement of social classes), and language (forbidding of languages and dictation of a national standard).

What you’re describing is colonialism, and with a check-listing tilt that comes across as disrespectful to the cultures you’ve picked out, but I hesitate to call it “evil” because that ascribes a morality that’s inherently tied to particular cultures. Homogenization has certainly displayed benefits in the form of accessibility:

Ancient Egypt, while not strictly speaking an empire, has a mostly continuous lineage with flourishing arts, social development, and many cities were considered cosmopolitan because of contemporary tourism

The Persian empire had a fantastic postal system because of their extensive network of paved roads

Imperial China saw not only the development of a new language, but also the advancement of literature, philosophy, and physical arts such as architecture, pottery, and painting

The Huns developed trade routes across multiple continents which benefited not only goods but intellectual progress

Alexander the Great brought along an entourage of intellectuals and artisans to assemble a compendium of knowledge across his empire that was disseminated as far as possible

The Romans achieved many things - not least their advances in architecture and literature

The Mughal Empire in India was a world leader in manufacturing during its time, and many artworks during its time are considered cultural classics

The Byzantine and Holy Roman Empires both unified large swathes of Europe and other regions of the world

So while colonialism in its many forms does function as an eradication of culture, it also has a tendency to promote stability, relative peace due to a common background, and a marked increase in literacy and the arts - culture, in other words, becomes more intricate because there’s now an opportunity to do so.

Unfortunately for many would-be colonizers, this works best with respect toward the original inhabitants of a land, because otherwise it just devolves into more war. These wars, because they’re culturally- and ethnically-based, are often bloodier than ones fought specifically over resources, because trade negotiations cannot be offered as a common ground where lasting peace can be found.

In order to not have a dissolution of empire like was found when Alexander the Great died, common ground must be found as a unifying factor - genocide doesn’t endear you to anyone, and fosters resentment that’s taken advantage of whenever bureaucracy at the top of the chain fractures. For your instance, the colour names likely won’t work, because it’s imposing a cultural norm that might not match up with the sub-administrations, and it comes across as a patronizing pacification to suggest merely translating it.

“i am white so that's really why i want to be sure i'm giving accurate rep here” - This, combined with your broad strokes of stereotyping, is the checklisting that Feral mentioned. Checklisting is inherently disrespectful to the source cultures, and you would be better off removing them entirely if you find yourself struggling too much with including them as equal in terms of cultural richness and longevity of existence (and for the most part, the ones you’ve skimmed over in your list are older than the UK, so it currently says unkind things of your perception).

Citations

De Neve, Jan-Emmanuel et al. “Born to Lead? A Twin Design and Genetic Association Study of Leadership Role Occupancy.” The leadership quarterly vol. 24,1 (2013): 45-60. doi:10.1016/j.leaqua.2012.08.001

PDF - Halverson, S. K., Murphy, S. E., & Riggio, R. E. (2004). Charismatic Leadership in Crisis Situations: A Laboratory Investigation of Stress and Crisis. Small Group Research, 35(5), 495–514. https://doi.org/10.1177/1046496404264178

PDF - Hunt, James G., Kimberly B. Boal, and George E. Dodge. "The effects of visionary and crisis-responsive charisma on followers: An experimental examination of two kinds of charismatic leadership." The Leadership Quarterly 10.3 (1999): 423-448.

Li, Wen-Dong, et al. "Do leadership role occupancy and transformational leadership share the same genetic and environmental influences?." The Leadership Quarterly 23.2 (2012): 233-243.

Zhang, Z., Ilies, R., & Arvey, R. D. Beyond genetic explanations for leadership: The moderating role of the social environment. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 110(2), (2009): 118-128.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 5)

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Authors Note:  Hello all!  This chapter could’ve gone two ways, I asked for feedback to decide which way it would go.  Thank you to those of you who gave feedback, I super appreciate it<3<3  I know the gif I’m using for this chapter is not The Dirt!Tommy but it’s too perfect not to use for the chapter!  I hope you enjoy.  I can’t say enough leave me any feedback you have as a reply or in my asks

Word Count:  5,644

Taglist:  @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches (send me an ask or message if you want to be added!)

Warnings: An equal mix of smut and fluff 

Chapter 5

It was the night before Halloween when Rayne found herself in the studio with Motley Crue and a few other friends and record executives listening to the final version of Motley Crue’s debut record.  The band had decided to call it Too Fast For Love after one of the songs on the album.  Rayne was sat on a leather couch with Tommy next to her, arm around her shoulder, taking in every lyric, guitar lick and drum beat.  Most of these songs she had heard live, but it was different on record.  The album was like a mix of the Sex Pistols, The New York Dolls, and something Rayne couldn’t quite put her finger on.  It was incredible, definitely not their full potential but, incredible.

As the final verse of “On With the Show” finished Vince cried out on record, Oh baby,and one final drum crash before the record ended.  Tom Zutaut, the bands A&R guy turned around from the mix console with a big smile on his face.  “That sounded amazing!  You guys nailed it.”

“Jesus christ Tom, it’s practically a demo.”  Mick Mars crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

“But it sounds exactly like you guys do live!  And the live experience is what got you here.” Tom replied back, he wasn’t lacking in enthusiasm that was for sure.

“We’ll want more for the next record.”  Nikki spoke simply.  Nikki was a hard man to satisfy when it came to the band. He wanted everything to be perfect, which was kind of surprising since he was always messed up on something. But every time Rayne had been around him in any band related setting he was a perfectionist and if something wasn’t going right, watch out because Nikki would lash out.  Rayne found the brotherhood between Tommy and Nikki so interesting because of the differences in their personalities. Tommy was carefree and up for anything, Nikki was more serious and regimented.  “When’s the record coming out?”

“Let’s just worry about this record for now.  We’ll see if we can get any traction with local radio. If we do I think I can get you guys a tour in Canada.  And the record right now if everything goes right should be out November 10th.”  Tom answered Nikki’s question.

“A tour of Canada?  In winter?  I’m gonna freeze my balls off man, and I need those.”  Vince complained.  Vince had been acting weird around Rayne since Jo had seen him with another girl.  Whenever Rayne would enter the room with Tommy it was almost as if Vince would make it a point to get as far away from her as possible.  It didn’t bother Rayne necessarily but she definitely noticed it.

“There will be plenty of girls there to keep your dick warm Vince.”  Nikki huffed.

“Yeah Vinny, or you could just take one up there with you.” Tommy tightened his grip on Rayne’s shoulders giving her a sloppy kiss on the side of her head.  The statement confused Rayne.  He didn’t think she was going to tour Canada with him did he?  There was no possible way that could happen.

“Oh yeah easy for you to say Tommy.”  Vince seethed before he got up and walked out of the studio. Tommy held out his right hand asking everyone in the room, “What the fuck is his problem?”

“Can we focus here please?”  Nikki raised his voice quieting everyone else in the room.  “If we are gonna do this tour we have to make an impression.  We’re infamous on the strip, we gotta be infamous everywhere.”

“Hell yeah dude.”  Tommy agreed.

“You’d agree to anything drummer.”  Mick replied dismissively.

“What do you mean Nikki?”  Zutaut questioned as Nikki stood up towering over the shorter man in the green striped shirt.  “Let’s talk you and I.”  

And with that Nikki left the room with Tom and the other record company people, leaving herself Tommy and Mick.  Tommy looked towards Rayne, “Well what did you think of the record?”

“I really liked it.”  Rayne responded hearing Mick huff, shaking his head before Rayne could finish, “I do agree with Mick though.  You can tell it’s not perfect.  But I also think that’s what works.  You guys are raw and aggressive, especially live.  And this record definitely showcases that, there’s not much out there like it at the moment.  You guys work your asses off and build an audience outside of LA and I think you could really do something.”

Mick slowly got up out of his seat turning toward Tommy and Rayne. He looked between the two of them, “You know what Red?”

“What Mick?”

“You actually know what you’re talking about.  Sometimes you even remind me of Nikki when you get going about something you believe in.”  Mick spoke directly.  Wow, that wasn’t something she was expecting at all.  Mick was definitely not a sentimental guy, or a guy that was really “nice” so to speak.

“Thanks Mick, I appreciate that.”  Rayne nodded accepting Mick’s praise watching as he left the room.  Rayne turned to Tommy, “Holy shit, I wasn’t expecting that.  I thought he hated me.”

“Nah.  No one could hate you.”  Tommy replied wrapping both of his arms around Rayne, pulling her tight against him.

“Do you have a short term memory problem?”  Rayne smiled up at him.

“But seriously, you liked the album?”  Tommy asked ignoring Rayne’s criticism.  Rayne reached up, cradling Tommy’s face in her hands. She leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the lips.  

“I do, you should be really proud of yourself Tommy, you worked so hard.”  Tommy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, his pride unmistakable.

“I love you.”  Tommy said pulling Rayne into his lap.

“Tommy wha-“ Rayne spoke completely taken off guard by the three words she could have sworn she heard Tommy just say.

“You don’t have to say it back to me, right now at least. But you need to know how I feel. I. Love.  You.”  Tommy punctuated his declaration with kisses on both sides of Rayne’s neck, and finally her lips to punctuate the word ‘you.’  Rayne felt like she was drunk, everything went a bit hazy. “Woah, I really freaked you out didn’t I babe?”

“No.”  Rayne said quickly shaking her head.  “It’s just, no one has ever said that to me before.  No one that wasn’t obligated to.”

“Well, now you can add me to the list.”  Tommy smiled up at her, running his hands up and down her sides. Tommy really was a hopeless romantic, Rayne didn’t think that actually existed, especially in Los Angeles. But his actions tapped into something Rayne had always dreamed of having but didn’t dare speak out into existence for fear of disappointment.  And here was Tommy, who had not disappointed her in any way.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah babe?”

“What are we?”  Rayne questioned quietly.  She watched as Tommy’s facial expression was utterly confused. “Are we dating?  Are we friends that fuck around?  I just want to know.  I get it if you don’t want to commit to anything now, you’re about to be a big rock star and all so of course I don’t want you to by tied down and I would never-“

“Babe.  Babe.  Breathe.”  Tommy said comfortingly, “I thought it was obvious?  We’re dating.”

She wasn’t sure if it was relief or something else entirely but Rayne sighed replying quietly, “I didn’t know, we never talked about it.”

Tommy moved his hands to Rayne’s ass giving her a squeeze. “Rayne, everyone in LA knows you are off limits, you’re mine.”

“Tommy.”  Rayne said sternly.  “That makes it sound like you own me.  I don’t belong to anyone.  But I will say that I guess I’m off the market now.”

“Yes, you are.”  Tommy smiled kissing her lips tenderly.  “And so am I.”

The next day was of course, Halloween.  There was going to be a huge Halloween party at Gazzari’s that night, anyone who was anyone on the Strip was going to be there.  Off hand Rayne knew for sure Ratt, Dokken, Quiet Riot and the Motley Crue guys were going to be there.  Rayne loved Halloween, it was her second favorite holiday after Christmas, she always got a kick out of dressing up.  Tommy and Nikki thought it would be hilarious to dress up as cops, they had outfits and everything, Rayne had seen the outfit after Tommy bought it and was impressed, it looked like the real deal.

Rayne and Jo had also planned semi-coordinating costumes. Rayne was going to dress at Morticia Addams, and Jo was going to dress up as her sister Ophelia Frump.  Jo loved it because she got to dress up like one of her fashion idols Stevie Nicks.  Jo wore a white dress with flowing white sleeves, small braids sporadically throughout her hair and a crown of flowers sitting on top of her head.  Rayne had a little bit more difficulty with her costume, which included a black wig, getting all of her hair under the wig cap was certainly a struggle but she successfully did it. Her form fitting black dress had a slit up to her thigh, a revealing neckline and also had flowing sleeves.

Rayne told Tommy the night before what she and Jo would be dressed as so he could keep an eye out for her as they were arriving separately. Rayne put one final pin in her wig to secure it before she walked out into the living room her heels clicking as she walked.  Jo, as usual, was waiting on Rayne.  “Jo, you look amazing!  Your skin is practically glowing.”

“It’s the makeup.”  Jo brushed off the compliment.  Jo was also off since she saw Vince with another girl in the studio. Rayne almost wanted to put the two of them in a room together, lock the door, and let them either fight or fuck it out.

“Well I think you look beautiful.  You ready to go?”  Rayne questioned holding her hand out to Jo.

“As I’ll ever be.”  Jo half heartedly smiled grabbing onto her friends hand.  The two stayed that way until they got to Gazzari’s.

As most things on the strip, it was a sea of bodies when the two entered the seedy club.  Gazzari’s always had a certain vibe to it, The Doors were once the house band and the owner was one of those slightly creepy older dudes.  He surrounded himself with young women, kind of like Hugh Hefner.  There were dancing girls all over the club who were in minimal clothes dancing along to the music.  Jo and Rayne waved at a few of the girls that they had come to know who were up in their go go cages. They made their way through the crowd onto the dance floor when Rayne heard Tommy, “Holy shit you two look amazing.”

Rayne held her hands out to her side.  “Thanks.  Just like our personalities we’re ying and yang.”

“How you doing Jo?”  Tommy asked putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.”  Jo shrugged her shoulders.  “I’m gonna be moody til I get some booze in me.”

“What do you want to drink?  I’ll grab it for you.”  Tommy asked.

“You don’t have to do th-” Jo began.

“I know, but I want to.  What do you want?”  Tommy smiled at Jo.

“A long island iced tea sounds great right now.”  Jo gave in before looking at Rayne who was giving her a side eye.  “Fuck off.  It has the most booze in it.”

“Whatever you say.”  Rayne smiled.

“And what about you gorgeous?”  Tommy asked Rayne grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles much like Gomez would do to Morticia.

“Well officer, I’ll take whatever Scotch whisky you bring back.” Rayne winked and Tommy was on his way to grab drinks for them.

“God I hate that he’s so nice.”  Jo scoffed, but Rayne knew she didn’t mean it in a bad way. “Like I want to hate him because he plays in a band with Vince, but I can’t, he makes it physically impossible.”

That made Rayne laugh, “How do you think I feel?  I never expected be dating him after going to that house party with you but he chipped away at my icy little heart and here we are.  Why don’t you go find Vince and talk to him?  You know he’s here somewhere.”

“No I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”  Jo shook her head.

“You know Jo, you are the most confident woman I know.  I hate to see you like this.”  Rayne said as softly as she could over the music.

“Here you are ladies.”  Tommy came back drinks in hand.  “Long Island Iced Tea for Ophelia, and a whisky neat cara mia.”

“Thanks Tommy.  Now no offense, but I’m gonna go mingle, being around the two of you is giving me cavities.”  Jo winked at Rayne as she walked passed them.

“Find me if you need me!”  Rayne shouted at her before turning to Tommy.

“I wish the two of them would just fuck, Vince has been a miserable little bitch since Jo stopped coming around.”  Tommy watched as Jo walked off through the crowd, she was easy to spot as she was basically the only one in all white in the entire club.

“Wait what?”  Rayne asked.  “Vince is miserable over Jo not being around?  Tommy that’s important information!”

“What?  Why?  Doesn’t she hate him now?”  Tommy asked utterly confused.  Rayne stood on the tips of her toes and kissed Tommy on the lips.

“Sometimes you’re a beautiful idiot.”  She smiled pulling away from him.  “Before the end of the night we’ll get them talking to each other again.  But for now come and dance with me.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Tommy happily obliged even though he couldn’t dance for shit.  The DJ was spinning different dance versions of creepy rock songs.  When Rayne and Tommy hit the dance floor a remix of “Welcome To My Nightmare” by Alice Cooper was playing.  Rayne and Tommy moved together on the dance floor, she actually found it kind of adorable most of Tommy’s dancing consisted of him moving his feet side to side.  Even still Rayne used Tommy’s lack of dance skill to grind on Tommy.  “You’ve got voodoo in your hips Cherry.”

She had certainly become accustomed to Tommy’s pet name for her, but she had found he only really used Cherry when he was turned on. Rayne turned around grinding her ass against his buldge, she twisted her neck to look at him.  “Do I?”

“Tread lightly Cherry or I’ll cuff you.”  Tommy gave her a devilish smile, grabbing her hand and putting it over his pair of handcuffs.

“Mmm, promise?”  Rayne asked before capturing Tommy’s lips in a heated kiss.

“Be careful now.”  Tommy bit Rayne’s bottom lip.

“Or you’ll what?”  Rayne questioned while Tommy groaned grabbing her hand.  Rayne struggled to keep pace with Tommy’s long strides as he made his way through the crowd.  When Tommy pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom, receiving a few stares, Rayne protested, “Tommy you can’t go in there!”

“Oh no?”  Tommy asked pushing open an empty stall, pulling Rayne in with him, a smile on his face.  “Oops.  Too late.  I’m already in.”

Tommy locked the stall behind them pinning Rayne against one of the walls, she looked up at him with doe eyes, not knowing what he was going to do next, but excited all the same.  “Turn around.”

“What?”  Rayne questioned.

“You heard me Cherry, turn around.”  Rayne listened to him and followed his instructions.  Rayne gasped when Tommy gave her ass a loud smack.  She was equally surprised when she heard Tommy pull his handcuffs off from his belt, watching as he clicked one around her wrist.  

“You better have keys to those.”  Rayne warned before watching as Tommy clasped the other handcuff to the metal bar in the stall, now Rayne couldn’t go anywhere even if she tried.  Tommy crooked his finger under her delicate chin, turning Rayne to face him, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

“Well you wanted to be naughty, what other choice did you leave me?”  Tommy stated inching Rayne’s dress up her thighs until she was bare to him which caught Tommy by surprise.  “And you’re not wearing any panties?  Tsk, tsk, tsk.  What could I ever do to punish you?”

“You better not even think about leaving me in here Tommy.” Rayne warned him feeling as his hand snaked around her stomach inching towards her pussy.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands baby.” Tommy whispered, holding Rayne still as his fingers grazed over her clit which caused her to jolt back against Tommy.

“Fuck Tommy.”  Rayne whined when Tommy took his fingers away from her.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?  If I fucked you right here?  Remember when you said you weren’t the type that would fuck me in a bathroom?”  Tommy bit Rayne’s ear lobe, gently pulling on it.  Rayne moaned at his statement, it was true she never would have thought she’d want to be fucked so bad in a bathroom yet here she was practically begging for it.  “Tell me, do you remember it?”

“Fuck, Tommy, yes I remember.  Please don’t leave me like this!”  Rayne didn’t give a fuck if she was begging, she was so worked up she could feel liquid from her pussy starting to drip down her thighs.

“You promise to behave then?”  Tommy questioned.

“Only if you want me to.”  Rayne’s head fell against the stall and she arched her back as much as she possibly could, giving Tommy the not so subtle hint.

“Fuck, I like the sound of that.”  Tommy smiled moving his fingers past Rayne’s aching clit and towards her opening.  “How many fingers do you want?”

“Fuck, however many you want to give me, just give them to me Tommy.” How could Tommy say no to that? He started with slipping one finger into her wetness causing Rayne to throw her head back appreciatively. After a few strokes Tommy then entered a second.  She bit her lip before crying out, “Oh fuck yeah.”

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on you.”  Tommy spoke with a hint of pride in his voice.  He began to pump his fingers in and out of her at a furious pace before whispering in her ear.  “Shh baby, listen.  Listen to how wet you are for me.”

Rayne held her breath and tried not to make a sound as Tommy kept up his movements with his fingers, bringing his free hand up to her throat. She couldn’t help her mouth falling open from the sound of Tommy’s fingers working in and out of her soaking wet core.  “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Tommy chose that moment to add a third finger inside of Rayne. To say her cry was strained was an understatement, at that point Rayne was concentrated on nothing else but her orgasm.  That’s why when Tommy pulled his fingers out of her suddenly she actually thought she might die. “Tommy no!  You can’t leave me like this!”

She looked over her shoulder to see Tommy licking his fingers before unbuckling his pants and taking his dick out.  Fuck yes!  Rayne thought, let this finally be the moment!  Who gives a fuck if it’s not “special” as Tommy wanted it to be. Instead of finishing off Rayne, Tommy began to stoke his own cock while looking down at Rayne who was still spread for him.  “That pussy is so pretty when it’s dripping wet Cherry, and don’t even think of using your free hand to finish yourself off.”

Rayne tried to rub her thighs together for some friction but it was useless, she was at Tommy’s mercy when it came to pleasure at the moment. “I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it?”

“If you’re not gonna let me cum at least give me yours.  My mouth.”  Tommy gave his cock a few more pumps before he positioned himself so Rayne could lower her mouth onto him.  He came almost instantly Rayne sucking him off until nothing was left.

Tommy zipped his pants back up before he moved back behind Rayne. “Who said anything about not letting you cum?  I just wanted to make you beg for it.”

“Tommy I’ve done nothing but be-oh!”  Rayne cried out as Tommy slipped his fingers back inside Rayne and continued his work as if he hadn’t previously stopped.  He kept his fingers curled inside Rayne making her feel a super intense pleasure-filled pressure, not knowing what else to do she lifted her one leg to rest on the top of the toilet allowing Tommy all the space he needed to keep doing whatever he was doing.  A few more strokes and Rayne began to cry out, “Fuck Tommy… I- I’m gonna… holy sh…!!!!”  Rayne cried out as she felt a literal uncontrollable gush of liquid come out of her splashing onto the bathroom floor.  Tommy immediately put his arm around Rayne keeping her upright as her body practically turned to goo.  Tommy kissed Rayne as she came down from her high and kept kissing her until she stopped shaking.

“Holy fuck Tommy.”  Rayne said completely out of breath.  “Did you just make me do what I think you did?”

Tommy grinned like a cat that got the canary, rocking her back and forth in his arms.  “Looks that way.  Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Will you uncuff me please?”  Rayne asked lazily, she felt like she was floating on a cloud.

“Oh yeah sorry.”  Tommy quickly moved into action turning the small key and releasing Rayne from her constraints, kissing her wrist that was restrained when he pulled the cuff off.

“I wish I was in bed right now so I could live in this bliss for the rest of the night.”  Rayne cooed and Tommy stood up a little taller, proud of himself.

“Fuck, you look so good right now baby.”  Tommy smiled before giving her another kiss, gently pulling her dress back down into place.  “You think you can walk?”

Rayne giggled nodding her head and Tommy unlocked the stall. Tommy pulled Rayne towards him and the two made their way out of the stall, smiles plastered on their face. Luckily there was no walk of shame because no one was in the bathroom, except one particularly familiar blond girl.  The same one that had told Rayne months ago that Tommy wouldn’t give her up for “your fat ass” as she put it and had most likely set up the attempted assault on Rayne.  So needless to say Rayne couldn’t have been happier than to be caught in the act with Tommy and walked past her with no shame, only pride.  Fuck you skank!  “Well if that’s not the ultimate revenge, I don’t know what is.”  Tommy chuckled causing Rayne to join him giggling as they walked out of the bathroom, hand in hand.

“You want another drink?”  Tommy asked.  Rayne was still in a haze and just nodded her head smiling.  As she and Tommy made their way over to the bar Rayne noticed Nikki’s hair.  Tommy put his arm around his best friend, “What’s up dude?”

“Hey T-Bone.”  Nikki smiled before locking eyes with Rayne.  “Rayne.”

“Hey Nikki.”  Rayne replied.

“Did you two just fuck?”  Nikki asked looking between the two of them.  Rayne’s eyes went wide, “What?”

“Well Rayne has that just fucked smile on her face, and her lipstick is smudged.  And you,” Nikki turned to Tommy, “Your fly is still down.”

“Oh fuck.”  Tommy laughed before zipping himself up and narrowing his eyes at Nikki. “And no we didn’t fuck.”

Nikki looked back over to Rayne, “You still haven’t put out?” Nikki never mixed words, he was always blunt and to the point, she imagined that’s why he and Mick got along so well.

“Oh I’m not the problem here.  You’re boy is the one making me wait.”  Rayne pointed over to Tommy looking to bring some of the heat on him.  Now it was Nikki’s turn to go wide eyed.

“It’s gotta be perfect dude!”  Tommy replied enthusiastically as the bartender came over and Tommy ordered the drinks.

“You’re an idiot dude.”  Nikki rolled his eyes.  “Pretty soon she’s gonna give up on your ass and just start using toys.”

“Oh I use those already.”  Rayne said nonchalantly causing both the men in front of her to stare at her.  “What?  Guys don’t have the monopoly on masturbation, and most of the men in this city couldn’t please a woman on their best day.  Toys don’t have that problem, they work 100% of the time.”

“You’re fun.”  Nikki grinned raising his glass up saluting Rayne.  Rayne could always be one of the boys, most of the time she got along better with guys than girls.  Hence why Jo and she got along so well, because they both were mostly surrounded by men growing up.  The bartender brought their drinks over and Tommy handed Rayne her whisky. Nikki finished his Jack Daniels before pointing at Tommy, “Tommy, I have to talk to you.  Come with me.”

“Are you okay for a bit?”  Tommy said into Rayne’s ear.  Rayne knew what that was code for, Nikki was gonna get fucked up and wanted Tommy to go use with him.

“Yeah I’m alright.”  Rayne gave him a nod.  “I may still have trouble walking but I’ll manage.”

Tommy grinned before disappearing into the crowd with Nikki.

Rayne took a deep breath before she started circling the room trying to find Jo.  After a handful of greeting people she knew Rayne happened upon someone she wasn’t expecting to, but was happy about it all the same: Vince.  He was alone on a couch sipping on a beer. Rayne didn’t even think he was in costume.  He just looked like Vince.  Rayne approached him, “Hey Vince.”

Vince looked up at Rayne and gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement, “Hey.”

“Look I don’t know what’s going on between you and Jo,” Rayne started before Vince interrupted her.  “Absolutely nothing is going on between me and Jo.”

God Vince looked like someone kicked his dog as he took a big swig from his bottle, motioning to the bartender to bring him another. “If you want something to be going on go to the phone booth upstairs in twenty minutes.”

“What?”  Vince questioned.

“Vince, trust me go to the phone booth upstairs in twenty. You can thank me later.” Rayne put her hand on Vince’s shoulder before she went back to working through the crowd, Rayne looked up and finally found Jo who was sitting in one of the darkened go go cages.  Rayne climbed the steps to the cage before she took a seat.  

“Hey there.  How you doing?”  Rayne asked her friend who simply held up a near empty long island iced tea. “How many have you had?”

“I lost count after four.”  Jo answered.

“I think I know something to cheer you up.”  Rayne teased her best friend.  “Vince has been miserable.”

“Good he should be!”  Jo quickly shot back.

“No he’s miserable because he knows he fucked up with you.  Go to the phone booth in ten minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, okay?”  Rayne smiled at her friend, who looked at her cockeyed.

“Did you just get fucked?”  Jo asked bluntly.

“What?!”  Rayne nearly choked.  How the fuck was everyone so aware of what she and Tommy had done earlier in the bathroom?

“I recognize the signs.  Your hair, or wig is all fucked.  Your lipstick is smeared.  And your dress is ripped.”  Jo said nonchalantly making Rayne’s eyes shoot down noticing that her dress was indeed ripped, the slit that went up to mid thigh now went all the way up basically to her hip.  “So did you?”

“We didn’t fuck, but we did other things.”  Rayne replied feeling her cheeks get hot.

“Good for you Ray.  It’s about time.  I may have to give the crown over to you, the new queen of the strip.” Jo gave Rayne a sad smile.

“No way, you’re still the queen.  You keep the crown.  And you better hurry up and get to the phone booth.”  Rayne nodded in the direction of the phone booth.  Jo nodded her head and got up on wobbly legs with Rayne’s assistance.  Rayne helped her down the steps before grabbing her pack of cigarettes from her bra.  She made her way towards the side door of Gazzari’s for some fresh air.  Rayne pushed the door open to reveal a decent crowd outside the club, most of them smoking, a few making out, others just talking.  Rayne lit up her cigarette and took a deep inhale, it certainly had been a crazy night.  

“Hey Morticia,” Rayne heard from beside her seeing a girl she didn’t quite recognize dressed up as an angel.

“Yeah?”  Rayne asked.

“Are you dating the drummer in Motley Crue?”  She asked taking a sip from her beer bottle.  Oh Rayne could just imagine what was coming next.

“I am.  Why?”

The angel chuckled, “I just offered him a blow job and he turned me down.  Said he was taken, and I saw the two of you at the bar earlier.  Figured I’d ask.  You’re lucky, I heard he was a great lay.  I would have offered it to the bass player too, but he couldn’t even stand he was so fucked up.”

Rayne felt like she was in the twilight zone.  This girl just admitted to her that she offered to blow Tommy.  He turned her down though which was reassuring  Rayne shook her head smiling, “I don’t know what to say, thanks?”

“You’re fucking gorgeous by the way.  If the two of you ever want to bring in someone else to fuck, let me know.”

The angel turned and walked back into the club leaving Rayne completely flabbergasted.  The shit you deal with on the Sunset Strip. Rayne took a deep inhale off her cigarette turning her head as the back door opened once again, revealing Tommy.  He had a big smile on his face, “There she is!”

“I’m here.”  Rayne smiled exhaling watching as Tommy pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up.  “I heard you refused a blow job from an angel.”  Rayne couldn’t help but laugh when Tommy almost choked on the smoke in his throat.  “Looks like you’re not the only one with eyes out here huh?”

“Well at least you know you can trust me right?”  Tommy ran his thumb over Rayne’s knuckles.  Rayne chose to leave out the other offer the angel gave her.

“For now.”  Rayne winked up at Tommy.  “Tommy?”  

“Hm?”  Tommy sounded inhaling from his cigarette.

“You know I can’t go to Canada on tour with you right?  I know you said something last night that alluded to me going out with you.”  Rayne had been thinking about it since Tommy brought it up in the studio last night.

“I had to give it a shot.”  Tommy shrugged before moving to stand in front of Rayne. “But Rayne, if this whole thing takes off…”

“Whenthis whole thing takes off.”  Rayne corrected him causing Tommy to smile wide.

“When this whole thing takes off, I’m going to want you to come out on the road with me.  Fuck I don’t wanna be away from you for a day let alone months on end.  Led Zeppelin went out on tours for four months at a time.”  Tommy spoke passionately, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Tommy, my job won’t let me…” Rayne started before Tommy cut her off.

“Fuck your job, I can take care of you.  You just have to let me.”  

“Do you know how hard that is for me to do Tommy?”  Rayne shook her head but still smiling up at him.  “It would basically make me a freeloader.  What would people think of me?”

“Fuck what people think trust in me.  When it happens I want you out with me.”  Tommy leaned down to kiss Rayne, she happily returned the kiss.

“I’ll think about it.”  Rayne smiled pulling away.  “Will that suffice for now?”

“I’ll accept that answer for now.  But when the time comes it will be unacceptable.”  Tommy winked at Rayne before looking down at her.  “Is your dress ripped?”

“Yeah it is,” Rayne shoved Tommy’s shoulder, “Thanks to you. Jo also asked me if I just got fucked when she saw me.  So I guess neither of us are good at hiding it.”  Tommy couldn’t help but laugh at Rayne.  “Also I think I got Jo and Vince to talk to each other, that is if either of them made it to the meeting spot.  They were both a bit drunk.”

“Look at you go cupid!”  Tommy raised his arms to mime the motion of shooting an arrow. “That’s what you should have dressed as tonight, you did hit me with an arrow of love.”

“Oh my god you fucking cheeseball.”  Rayne laughed.  “Are you sleeping over tonight?”

“Not tonight baby,” Tommy replied surprising Rayne, “I just got a new bed and I want to test it out.”

“Oh?  You got a new bed?” Rayne questioned.  “If it wasn’t in your cockroach infested apartment I might offer to break it in.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Tommy hummed before kissing Rayne once more.  Rayne felt like something was a little off with that response. How could he not say something in response to her statement?  Tommy was always one for teasing comments.  Even though Tommy had given her plenty of amazing orgasms, including one insane one tonight, she still wanted so badly to go all the way.  It was to the point where she was actually having sex dreams about Tommy that would result in her waking up just before it was about to get good.  Her brain was even cock blocking her.  The number of times Rayne woke up and had to grab one of her toys to finish her off was getting embarrassing.  She wondered how much longer Tommy could possibly make her wait...

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Well there you have chapter 5.  What did we think??  We’re gonna have a few more chapters of happy smutty glory and then shit’s gonna go down!  Thanks for reading<3

Take me to the next chapter...

[1-1snailxd-art]

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Heart-Eyes in the Library 

Warnings: homophobia, negative thoughts, swearing, blackmail 

Summary:  It is nice to talk and feel safe with the people in your company, but cuddles are even better.

Word count: 2967

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

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Beginning Note: So, the initial timeline is gonna jump around a little bit because I am a little stoopid and posted the last chapter with an ending that I actually didn’t want to have there. So sorry about that little mess up.

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As Logan finished his story, the pair stepped through the library’s front doors and Virgil absently continued to walk towards his office; Logan now silently following. It wasn’t until the office door was safely closed that Virgil remembered how to breathe.

“What happened to the guys that beat you up?” He questioned, taking a seat at the messier end of the table. “Were they at least charged or something?”

Logan let out a long sigh as he sat at the opposite end.

“Unfortunately, no. We all walked away with warnings and nothing more and I was not in a position to take the matter further. It was safer that way.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It may have been the first, but sadly it wasn’t, and won’t be, the last.” Removing his glasses, Logan retrieved a cleaning cloth from his bag and started cleaning them for a distraction. “Not everyone is accepting of my identity. I don’t think I ever would have accepted myself without seeing how strong Patton and Jason were in the face of discrimination and ignorance.”

Virgil stared at the floor, thinking of all the times he had stood by and watched someone be beaten. The cries for help he ignored. The discussions he’d listen to in silence as hate was voiced and the suggested actions that he never attempted to stop.

He was part of the problem. He was just as bad as the people that beat Logan. He was a disgusting excuse for a human and didn’t deserve any of Logan’s kindness for the things he had done.

 “Virgil?” Logan stood and moved towards the younger man; head snapping up suddenly at his name. “Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.”

Virgil struggled to swallow, mouth dry and heart racing. “What? Oh, I’m fine. Just - um - I-I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Logan kneeled before the other, brows knitted in confusion and concern.

“I dunno,” he shrugged and shifted in his chair, “existing. Making you relive that. Wasting your time. Take your pick.”

A firm, but gentle, hand gripped his shoulder and Virgil looked up to meet Logan’s eyes.

“I may not be able to fully comprehend what has triggered that line of thinking, but I assure you it is untrue. I rather enjoy your company, Virgil, and while sharing my story is…painful, to some degree; it is also freeing to be able to share it.”

“You…enjoy my company?”

“Affirmative. Do you enjoy mine?” Colour returned to Virgil’s cheeks and he nodded. “I am glad to hear that. Thank you, Virgil.”

“No. I haven’t done-“

“You’ve made this week more tolerable and - well, I was wondering if - um. Would you…” Virgil watched as the other man appeared almost nervous; glancing down before looking back up again. “Would you be interested in hanging out tomorrow?”

“Oh - um - I -“ Logan’s hand was suddenly off Virgil’s shoulder and he fidgeted with his clothes as he found himself suddenly afraid of his response. “… I was going to do some work, but I guess I-.”

Logan sighed and felt himself relax slightly. “If it helps, I have this hard drive of personal images that I am desperate to see, and Patton’s laptop won’t read it. I would happily pay you for your services  if you are able to offer them.”

“I…” The dark thoughts swirled through his head again, but Virgil mentally shoved them aside as hard as he could. “Lunch would be great. Will you bring your things out somewhere or do you want me to come over?”

“If you wouldn’t mind coming over, that would be great. I have a lecture until 11:30; so, if you meet me near the labs, we can pick something up on the way to my place.”

“Fine with me. I should, um... I've got some stuff to organise in here before my shift starts.”

"Right, yes, of course." the pair slowly stood; Logan backing towards the door. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

"For sure."

Virgil watched them walk away as he turned to his mess of a desk, smiling to himself. Logan headed out toward the main desk to see Katie; thankful Virgil accepted his offer. It would be nice to break up his day before the meeting in the library and he felt so much lighter since opening up to the dark eyed librarian.

  "How's it going, heart eyes?" Katie teased. 

“Funny,” Logan mused, folding his arms across his chest. “Get it all out of your system now.”

Beaming, Katie stood and started making large dramatic gestures with her body and arms as she spoke. “You look so cute together. Have you seen how red your faces are? They could pick up your blush from a camera in space. I can’t wait to receive my ‘best wing woman’ trophy. Be sure to thank me at your inevitable wedding. If I’m not the maid of honour, I will riot.”

“Are you done?”

“For now.” She raised an eyebrow, “care to rebut?”

“My pleasure.” Perching himself on the desks edge, Logan crossed his legs and fixed Katie with a knowing look. “While I’m sure we do come across as an aesthetically pleasing pair, he has yet to confirm his romantic attractions and I am yet to confirm my own identity with him. While I will not deny some ‘feelings’ towards him; it is far too soon to be making judgements on our potential future relationship status. Considering Jason and I knew each other for over a year before we officially entered our relationship, it would be foolish of you to assume I would enter a relationship with someone I’ve only known for a couple of days.”

“Oh, I know.” Katie smirked and ruffled Logan’s hair as she walked around the other side of the desk. “I just like watching your cheeks redden like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.”

“You’re confusing me with Patton again.” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair and following Katie to the kitchen.

“You like cookies just as much as him and don’t you dare try and deny it.” Grabbing down three mugs, Katie set to work making two coffees and a tea for herself. “On a slightly heavier note, are you still okay with tomorrow evenings meeting?”

“I’ve kept my evening schedule clear, though my morning is very much booked.”

“Meeting Virgil again huh?”

“Wha-How did you-” Logan stammered.

“I didn’t, but I do now,” she giggled; presenting two mugs to Logan. “Take one to Virgil would you and can you remind him about the meeting tomorrow, I’ve gotta start shutting the computers down for the afternoon.”

“You’re really pushing this aren’t you?”

“You’ll thank me later.” Katie called, and walked off to the computer room with her tea in hand.

  Virgil had made quick work of his office clean; only the gaming system remained on the table, just waiting to be boxed up and sold on. He was just sealing a small container of wires when he heard a soft knock on the door. It was odd to find Logan there, and he was a little taken aback.

“Logan? What are you doing?”

“Katie made you coffee,” he offered the mug which Virgil gladly accepted, “and asked me to remind you about tomorrow evening”

“Yeah, I saw the library was booked for some meeting. I’m gonna start cleaning earlier so I can get out of the way.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan assured,” we wouldn’t be offended by your presence.”

“What do you mean?”

“We call it a meeting, but it’s more of an indoor picnic. Jason used to organise them with needy groups once a month. After he passed, Katie started them as a way to, I guess,  reconnect. We haven’t had one in a while though.”

“It can be tough, at times, when it comes to connecting with people after a trauma.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at his coffee, the words of his former therapist slipping from his mouth before he even realised. Quickly pulling the coffee to his lips, he hoped Logan didn’t freak out over the comment; which is why the breathy laugh shocked him so much. Logan was genuinely lost for words for a moment, but he finally composed himself and nodded.

“That… is a very wise sentiment, Virgil. It sounds like you have some experience in that area.”

Fingers drumming on the side of his mug, Virgil moved to leave the office. “Yeah, well, nothing like what - um - you experienced, but I have my fair share of shadows in my past.”

“Well I’m glad you are able to connect now,” Logan beamed, following the cautious other to the kitchen to clean his surprisingly empty mug.

“I-“ Virgil looked at Logan’s face, a comforting feeling sitting on his chest and shielding him from his usual self-hate. “I’m glad I am too.”

 A high-toned ringing caused them both to jump and Logan rifled through his bag to find his phone blaring an alarm. He silenced it before reading the reminder to go get groceries for dinner.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to get going.” Virgil took the mug from his hands and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. 11:30 at the science building?”

“I’ll be there.”

With a final wave, Logan headed out of the library; pausing briefly at the front desk to scribble a smiley face on a post-it note for Katie.

 Twenty minutes later, Katie had locked the front door and was pulling Virgil’s headphones off his head before he could start vacuuming.

“What you need, Reels?” He questioned, leaning against the vacuum handle.

“Nothing, just checking in.” Her voice raised in pitch and she rocked on her feet like a child asking her parents for a pony. “So, how’d it go with Lo-gaaan?”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a groan, “I’m going to do some more computer work with him tomorrow. Happy?”

“Are you?”

The question stirred something in Virgil, and his eyes shifted as he considered it in its entirety. When he was with Logan, the voices of his past were at their loudest, but he also managed to silence them much faster. A genuine smile spread across his face as he finally nodded, meeting Katie’s eyes.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Then so am I. Catch you tomorrow afternoon.”

 Waving, Virgil returned his headphones to his ears before starting the vacuum cleaner up. The action was soothing and gave him plenty of time to reflect on the week’s events. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and his thoughts and emotions had been on overdrive. Roman had revealed himself to be a reasonable soul, dating the most selfless man Virgil had ever come across. He learnt that Ethan and Ellie were the same person and gender was a lot less black and white than he had believed. Jason had become a name connected to a face with a story he still didn’t quite understand, but Virgil knew he was the keystone to the whole group. And then there was Logan. Passionate and professional Logan. He couldn’t deny the smile on his face as he pictured them; squared glasses, dress shirt, tie, combed hair, pleasant smile.

 “… disgusting...” … “…unnatural…” … “What? Are you a faggot too?” … “if you dare mention him to me again, you can forget about living.”

 The spray bottle of disinfectant slipped from Virgil’s shaking hands and split on impact with the ground; the solution slowly seeping into the carpet beneath the main desk. Breathing seemed impossible as memories overpowered his thoughts; yelling, insults, cries of pain, screams of distress, blood and the flashing of emergency lights. The library faded to black as Virgil lost all connection with his surroundings.

 ******************************

 The bus stopped at the top of the street and Patton quickly hurried down the path toward the unit complex. Rows of two-story town houses pressed close together, creating a wall of buildings housing other young studiers taking advantage of the cheap rent and small yard maintenance rates. Reaching the building at the end, Patton slid his key into the lock and felt a wave of relief rush over him as he stepped into their apartment. A pleasant spice smell filled his nostrils the moment he entered; a clear indication that  Logan was already busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. Leaving his bags at the door, Patton turned straight into the kitchen and walked right into Logan’s waiting arms for a hug.

“That smells so good, Logie.”

“Your timing is impeccable. Everything is ready to be served, you just need to select the entertainment for the evening.”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Patton rushed around to the TV and started scrolling through their options while Logan set to serving the stir-fry. After placing their plates on the table, Logan returned to the kitchen to split the leftovers into plastic containers.

“Who’s the third one for?” Patton questioned, looking at the three containers Logan had set out.

“No one. I just made too much is all and thought a third container was necessary.”

Patton was not convinced, leaning on the breakfast bar with a knowing grin. “You never misjudge serving sizes. You made some for Virgil, didn’t you?”

“I do make mistakes sometimes, Patton,” Logan assured, quickly rinsing his utensils and setting them beside the sink for washing later. “But should Virgil be interested; I see no harm in sharing our leftovers with him.”

“Sure,” a wink and click of his tongue confirmed that Patton didn’t believe a word of what Logan said, but he turned to sit at the table as an animal documentary started playing on the TV.

 Dinner went by with a few laughs and flushed cheeks as the pair discussed their days apart. Logan admitted that he did indeed find Virgil to be pleasant company and a rather surprising positive to come from a shattered laptop. This made Patton feel much better and more willing to confess he rather enjoyed his evenings with Roman. A raised eyebrow, coupled with a smirk, from the science major had Patton glowing like a ripe tomato.

“Pulled those brakes off real fast, Pat. I’m surprised at you.”

“No no no.” Patton waved his arms, but his face only turned redder, “it wasn’t like that. We just - um - He didn’t - I mean, I didn’t - it just… happened.”

Shoving his hands in his lap, Patton pouted in embarrassment while his friend laughed and nudged his shoulder as he carried their empty plates to the kitchen.

“I’m only teasing you, Patton. You know I hold no judgement over what you and Roman do in your spare time.” Patton hummed in agreement and rose from his position to join Logan in the kitchen; wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his head on their back while they started the dishes. “Was it worth the wait?”

Eyes closing, Patton sighed and recalled his afternoon. “Absolutely.”

 Logan smiled and continued his task with Patton holding on to him like a baby koala. Since moving cities, Patton had jumped between multiple relationships; rarely ending pleasantly or being paced at all. The man had so much love to give and was all too willing to give it; often to his own detriment. It seemed Patton had finally decided to take the singles road when Roman asked him out and it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, and the first relationship the man had taken seriously enough to pace himself. It warmed Logan’s heart to finally see his friend have a positive experience with someone. He’d had similar experience with ‘uncomfortable’ situations before realising his asexuality thanks to Jason. It had always caused him great pain to have Patton recall his experiences, and they rarely left him has happy and content as he was now.

It set a calm tone for the evening as the pair moved to the lounge room, Logan laying in the corner of their couch with Patton leaning against his chest under a soft teal blanket. When Logan woke, the tv sat on a menu screen and showed the time was after midnight. It took some careful manoeuvring, but he eventually managed to slide out from beneath Patton. Sliding the glasses off Patton’s face, the sleeping man stirred and blinked groggily up at his friend.

“Yours or mine,” Logan whispered, bending to scoop his tired friend up.

Wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, Patton mumbled into his ear and Logan smiled;  carefully making his way to his already turned down bed.

 ******************************

 Virgil couldn’t remember if he fell asleep or passed out, but he woke up under the main desk; morning alarm vibrating in his pocket and the strong scent of disinfectant still in the air. Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his pounding head. Groggily grabbing his phone to silence the alarm he noticed multiple messages had come through during the night.

 Ben: I got some friends over and Im feeling a little loose

Ben: Im gonna to need something to keep these lips closed

Ben: Another 20 should keep em shut

Ben: Your silence wont get my silence

Ben: Youv made a mistake now

Ben: price has gone up again dip shit. I’ll call tomorrow with your new figures. You better answer or I’m tearing this contract up and going straight to that library of yours.

Virgil: *seen*

 Suddenly wide awake, Virgil was off the ground and racing to prepare for the day. He would need to get a decent amount of money to calm Ben down now, and only one gaming console to sell. Friday was set to be one heck of a day.

   ________________________

End Note

Hey, so this was the crazy chapter that wasn’t meant to be. I messed up the timeline in my last upload (well done past me) and then my computer had a melt down and deleted most of this chapter 😭 Thankfully, I was able to run a recovery and saved a lot of stuff I thought I had lost (Look at me being all Virgil like).

 Anyway, I’ve got E planned to make a return next chapter and give a little more insight into how they feel about everything. It’s something I have been looking forward to exploring since I introduced them, and I feel like some of the dots should start getting connected now.

 Hope you are still enjoying the story. Please let me know your thoughts; I’d love to read them. Happy timezone to you all 💜🐌

 On a personal note: Flu seems to have finally moved on (yay), but I may not have a job in the same place next year (boo) and my boss hasn’t really given me a clear list of options (I thought being permanent meant I had more security than when I was on a contract, but whatever).

_____________________________

Chapter 9    — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles 

[itsclydebitches]

Dragon Ball. Dragon Ball Z Dragon Ball Super. Which is your favorite?

Oh, anon. You poor soul. You’ve activated my current obsession. Okay. I preface this by saying that DBZ, imo, is the CLASSIC. Frieza, Cell, and Buu? Iconic. DBZ is what I think of as the core of the DB franchise and I adore it accordingly. That being said… I’m really, really loving Dragon Ball Super. 

(And I’m totally gonna tell you why because you made the mistake of starting this conversation in the first place :D)

I’m just? A sucker for lore filled with fallible gods?? This is my long-lived love of Greek mythology rearing its head. Even back in DBZ the Supreme Kai was instantly a favorite of mine. Yeah, yeah, the whole fandom rags on him for supposedly being “useless,” but that’s precisely why I love him? He starts out as this mysterious, incredibly powerful figure–powerful enough to scare the crap out of Piccolo–and then very quickly falls off that pedestal, making him relatable and humanized. Shin clearly has a shit ton of trauma from, you know, watching Buu kill and/or absorb his entire family. He’s been forced to take on a job meant for five and he definitely hasn’t been trained (or at least fully trained) for this particular position. He comes to Earth expecting to use mortals as a tool, as one would expect from a high-ranking god, and is just totally blindsided by how powerful they are. It’s an instant double-edged sword. On the one hand hell yeah defeating Buu just got a whole lot more likely. On the other hand, existential crisis much? Who am I–who are all the gods–if we’re not intrinsically more powerful, knowledgeable, or spiritually sturdier than the mortals we watch over? Goku, Vegeta, and especially Gohan upset the presumed hierarchy. It’s why we get such a good dichotomy between Shin and Kibito. Shin rolls with this new information and embraces it fully. Okay. Mortals are stronger than us in so many ways, how wonderful! We can learn from them and rely on them, forming equal partnerships to achieve our goals. Kibito is stuck in his assumptions. How dare you set foot on this world? How dare you think you can pull out the Z Sword? How dare you think yourself equal to a god? 

It’s a familiar theme for DB: humanizing the latest, all-powerful entity. And each new introduction becomes more extreme.

Kami was our original god… who got some awkward moments. Then King Kai is the top guy…who loves lame jokes and lets Goku tear up his sacred planet in the name of training. Then Shin, Supreme Kai of the whole damn universe… who is also an anxious bean Just Trying His Best. It’s a theme I love because it upholds humanity (or in this case Saiyans adopted by humanity) as beings of endless potential. DB is all about pushing past your limits, but that doesn’t just apply to physical power. It also ties into upending the status quo; showing those who think themselves arrogantly better–in this case the gods–that no, we all have worth here. When the chips fall it’s mortals who consistently manage what the gods cannot, reaching a point where, ki-wise at least, they’re indistinguishable from gods, raising the question of why they were ever above them in the first place. They’re not. We’re all on equal footing once those assumptions are acknowledged and done away with. Ancient Kais can like dirty magazines. Supreme Kais can have panic attacks. Destroyers can love pizza as much as the next, average anime watcher.

Indeed, we see in the Tournament of Power that these rules now apply to Goku in his god state. He might have reached incredible power that everyone else thought impossible… but that doesn’t make the rest of the cast “below” him. It’s only because of his friends–presumably “useless” friends like Krillin and Tien–that allow him to enter the tournament and get as far as he did. It’s his old mentors who he has far outpaced that remind him he still has much to learn and who help Goku tap into Ultra Instinct in the first place. It’s a simple android we haven’t seen in years who manages to win the whole damn thing. The story consistently applies that same message of equality and worth to everyone, including our original paragon who has now reached the status of the very beings he’s worked to outpace. Rather than turning Goku into the hypocrite, DB keeps reminding him that no amount of power is going to change his or anyone else’s worth. He’s still BFFs with Krillin. Still married to Chi-Chi. Still needs other “weak” people like Bulma to help him when things get tough. No time machine, money, or strategic smarts? Sorry, no win.

In short, Dragon Ball Super takes that fantastic message and dials it up to 11. Now suddenly we’ve got a scary Destroyer God… who is easily swayed by tasty Earth food and a good nap spot. Angels who are equally humanized in their humor and love of mortal creations. An omnipotent ruler who is recognizably child-like. It both makes Zeno lovable and downright terrifying. He’s human enough to form friendships and use his power inappropriately. Zeno has the capacity to fall in love with a simple handshake as well as destroy an entire universe with the same detachment that we might, say, walk through an ant hill. Why did I do it? Because I could and no one has taught me yet that this might be something I shouldn’t do. Everyone has the capacity for growth.

And it’s so goddamn funny? Literally this scene is everything to me because it slams godly assumptions together with simplistic, mortal friendships, then lets that contrast play out. The most powerful being ever, creator of it all, the god that makes every other god shake in their boots wants… a friend? Okay! Our equally intimidating Grand Priest cracking up at this development? Whis losing his shit in the background? Shin straight up fainting? Goku pressing his shiny new god button because who DOESN’T press a button when you’re suddenly presented with one? All of it slays me. Forget stories where you endlessly bow before your supposed betters, knowing that you will never be able to even fathom their power. I want more stories like this, where the hero introduces enough kindness and brazen communication that it upends everyones’ expectations and fun, crazy new relationships form. Goku moved from utter shock at learning the Supreme Kai even existed to hoisting him over his shoulder like a drunk friend who is still refusing to head home. I love this weird-ass family.

All of which of course introduces the opposite as well. What if we’re given Zamasu, a fallible god whose imperfections don’t result in him becoming another quirky family member, but lead him down a path that endangers the entire multiverse? Though Super hasn’t commented on it explicitly yet, we’re also starting to toy with the idea of exactly how “human” the top gods are and how much growth they are capable of. For example, I’m fascinated by the Grand Priest. The anime makes him out to be far darker than he is in the manga, and I know there’s a disconnect between the two, so I’m not currently inclined to think that he’s the end Big Bad. Rather, he seems to actually have a stronger moral sense than Zeno–he comments on how awful it is that mortals riot and kill one another after learning about the Tournament–but as Zeno’s subordinate, and being well aware of how easy it can be to displease him, he’s not in a good position to sway him. We see him introducing tiny bits of logic to the Zenos (like stopping the fight between Goku and Toppo in the anime), but that’s a far safer thing to suggest then, say, “How about we don’t erase a ton of universes at once, hmm?”

Like his angel children, the Grand Priest ultimately exists to serve his Lord… but Goku and his friends are in no such position. Not as overtly, anyway. Created through evolution and developing their own ideals, they have the freedom to challenge and ultimately teach all those high-level gods, including Zeno. He says it himself in that clip: “No one will try. You can do what no one else can do!” Goku, both as a mortal and a very straight forward one, has the capacity to charge past those expectations and hit on something grand.

However, we see with Whis that, wow… maybe angels really are so far removed from us that they don’t care in any meaningful way. Whis seems like a friend, but when push came to shove he wasn’t very upset about his entire universe–and a Destroyer he’s known for who knows how many thousands of years–getting destroyed. We can attribute this apathy to him assuming it will all turn out alright (if anyone would realize that whoever wins can just use their wish to revert everything back to normal, it’s Whis), but even if he actually doesn’t care much right now… he’s learning too. Whis went from shrugging about Beerus destroying the Earth (at least he has his leftovers!) to telling Trunks and Mai how to break more time rules–rules Whis originally thought were more important than anything else–just so they could get a happy ending. We’ve seen him form a legitimate friendship with Bulma. He does little things like waving a Universe 7 flag and having them hold hands that demonstrate care, outside of practicalities (like delivering Bulla so Vegeta can fight). He seems more invested in challenging the status quo than his brother and even his brother, notably, slips up and uses “Father” instead of “Grand Priest,” demonstrating a certain level of familial love that can sometimes override pure duty.

Vados copies Whis and sits with the Universe 7 team, shrugging off the other gods’ disgust. Whis then shows legit pride in Goku managing Ultra Instinct. It’s GREAT watching these beings move from seeing mortals as inconsequential specs in the multiverse to individuals worthy of their time, attention, and respect. We’re seeing that development with Whis most of all, slowly but surely.

And it helps that our protagonist is really worthy of that respect this arc. Beyond his innate capacity for kindness, Goku is wonderfully smart in Super. I myself have mentioned that being naive and battle obsessed to the point of endangering others is kind of his thing, but Super hits a wonderful middle ground. Goku is the one who thinks to use the future Zeno to destroy Zamasu. He figures out a good portion of Zamasu’s plan. He thought up the idea of using dead warriors in the Tournament of Power and instantly has a way of negating the danger Frieza would pose: let’s use Baba so he can only come back for 24 hours. The anime (strangely…) emphasizes how the Tournament is supposedly Goku’s fault, but Vados reminds everyone that Zeno planned to erase the universes regardless. Though he didn’t intend the outcome, Goku’s suggestion of a tournament gave all universes a fighting chance. Much more importantly, it introduced the reward that would ultimately save them all. Goku’s got a good head on his shoulders this time around and the story emphasizes that it’s his capacity to care that saves far more than his brute power. Sparing enemies leads to them turning over a new leaf. Cultivating a diverse family results in a team with the strength and strategy to win. The ability to look at anyone–even Zeno–and smile as you shake their hand results in allies who can save the day when your own strength fails. IT’S ABOUT LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP AND I’M A WEAK GOODY-GOODY.

I just… fucking love DBS. It takes all of the best underdog themes of the DB franchise–Can a low-class warrior become the best? Can a normal human woman gain the love of a prince? Can mortals ever stand side-by-side with gods?–and homes in on those questions, emphasizing them to an almost meta extent. I could give you another hundred reasons of exactly how much I’ve enjoyed these new stories… but I should stop now lol

Last note though Ultra Instinct is AWESOME

[thetwominuteshate-blog]

Hello, cruel world.

I am exhausted with living on this earth.

I could throw literary quotes at you. I could tell you that society at large has become what the dystopian science fiction authors of yesteryear predicted it would. I could start this blog with a call to arms, urging you to riot in the streets and tear down the prison we've built for ourselves.

But the truth is I'm just tired. I'm tired of constantly living in fear. I'm tired of feeling no connection with the world around me. I'm tired of seeing so much suffering that spans continents, in "the greatest nation in the world", while criminals look down on us with derision from their ivory towers. I am tired of feeling as though, no matter what I do, my decisions are of no consequence. I'm tired of the world slowly eroding me until there is nothing good left in me. I'm tired of feeling alone, and I am so, so tired of seeing the world as it could be--as it SHOULD be--and always coming up so short I can't even see the finish line.

I've been rejecting the reality I've found myself in for far too long, escaping into worlds of my own making or the worlds others have created for the sake of escaping my own despair. But it doesn't have to be this way. I still reject this reality, the efficient brutality of a race that has been born into an environment so unforgiving that we fail to put our own violent natures behind us. I reject the notion that the world cannot improve. I have had enough.

Those of you who have read George Orwell's 1984 might remember the Two Minutes Hate. For those of you who haven't or have forgotten, the Two Minutes' Hate is a daily ritual put in place by a maddeningly restrictive government with the intention of directing the fear and anger of common individuals living in such a repressive society by placing them in front of a television screen that projects images of whomever the Party deems is an enemy. The Other. When I first read it, this excerpt in particular stood out to me:

"The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp."

These days, most of what I see in the media is the Two Minutes Hate. Talking heads on two dimensional screens telling us who we should hate. Vicious propaganda that those who lack the will to fight the ones keeping them locked in misery buy into wholeheartedly. Instead of directing their rage at the ones responsible, people punch down, ostracizing people less fortunate than them.

But this isn't the reason why I chose to name this blog after the Two Minutes Hate. Because hate is a funny thing--when we don't let it eat away at us, it gives us the strength to fight without abandon. It causes us to reduce things to rubble and burn the remains so there is no trace of its existence. It can be a powerful tool. But it is fire, and most of us, if not all, aren't well enough equipped with the knowledge to know which things are worth burning.

I've been filled with hate nearly for as long as I can remember. Full disclosure: I'm a 27-year-old white, bisexual cis male. For most of my life I lived in a small town and have largely kept myself in seclusion due to bullying throughout my childhood into my teen years. I only recently became aware of the deepening aspects of my sexuality, but over the years I've faced baseless accusations of homosexuality to the point that a cowardly bully had his friend fight me. As a result, I faced suspension. My school district, like most, put on a public face that disavowed bullying, but enabled it when it occurred. The culture I was surrounded by swam in toxic masculinity, boys that pretended to be men through the ownership of trucks flying the Confederate flag and other meaningless, superficial displays of their own insecurities. My "community", which is so very important to conservative culture, treated me like a stubborn weed long before I could even grasp cruelty. I felt suffocated, unable to flourish because there was always someone watching my every move. As a result, I've come to loathe authority in all its forms.

That's just backstory, though. Over the years I've come to realize that my circumstances were relatively fortunate. I'm privileged; people have been murdered over the merest suspicion that they might be gay. There are people who face severe bullying on a near-daily basis, and that's in this country alone. The atrocities committed in our world's history dwarf mine to a subatomic level. I've had friends who have been raped, faced child and domestic abuse, and even now are in circumstances far more dire than my own. It's no longer for my own sake that I hate, it's for those who are beaten down and cannot fight back, whether on an individual or cultural basis.

I'm not here to play white, straight(ish) savior. In fact, I wouldn't even consider myself to be an ordinary person. I am on the verge of mental instability--for years I've felt the effects of severe depression, which is finally in check. For a time I was so suicidal that I abused substances on a daily basis because the only calming thoughts I had in sobriety were of my own death. I have a deep desire to hurt and destroy, to get back at the world that I feel cut me open and left me to bleed out. I'm a sadist and a masochist in the BDSM scene. I have twisted fantasies that run so deeply to my core and no outlet for them outside of the scene. I want to make others suffer for the injustices they inflict upon those who are undeserving of pain. Because whoever came up with the idiom, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" should have been tortured without cause, broken by suffering that held no ultimate meaning. Then he'd have a greater grasp on the state of the reality as it is.

Hate is addictive. Orwell was right; it spreads like a wildfire, and it's impossible not to be caught in the blaze yourself unless you sequester yourself with comfort and ignorance. And turning a blind eye to the problems others face, whether it's next door or on the other side of the globe, is possibly worse. Until now, I've feared the repercussions of acting against authority, the odds of my successful retribution stacked heavily against me. Even now, I fear the things I will express will draw fire from all sides, so I'm shielding myself through an anonymity browser in order to ward off potential enemies, whether they are a collective agency like the NSA or some alt-right IT cunt with internet access. Those of us in the United States have been officially granted a right to free speech, but we live in an era in which seizing that right can go so far as to get you killed, especially if you call for progress and your voice is heard by millions.

But my end goal is not society's complete collapse. There are pieces of this world worth preserving. I may only be useful for tearing things down, but someday I hope someone will build them back up into something better that works for all people. I long to help individuals understand that all people are just that--people. Not secondary or tertiary characters in your life, good-or-evil projections onto a screen for you to scream at. It's this mentality that causes entire populations to suffer, and I know my work will never be done until the most marginalized find a place in society.

But this is not a call to empathy. Part of recognizing each other's humanity is holding each other accountable for their actions. I believe no person can be perfectly good--we all do terrible things, myself thoroughly included--but there are those of us who are so mindlessly destructive in their actions that I honestly believe the world would be better off without them. This quality of malignance does not discriminate between race, gender, or age. We are among self-made monsters on a daily basis, and they deserve as much sympathy as they dole out.

Words without action are meaningless. I don't intend to sit here and tell y'all to start a French-style bloodletting while I sit comfortably in a downtown loft. This is a time for action. This is a time for violence. This is a time to stand up against the birth of fascism in the so-called "Land of the Free". This is a time for hate.

I am Winston Smith, and this is my Two Minutes Hate. This is my war. Will you join me?

[fountainpenguin]

What kinds of AU pieces go in the Off the Rails collection?

“Get Flappy Reprise - The Sort-Of Musical” - That ‘fic based off the first draft script of the Musical, where Flappy Bob was actually Imaginary Gary in disguise, and Gary and Betty possibly knew he was an imaginary friend all along and they love and support him. This ‘fic would make mention of all the old songs and their ridiculousness. Also, lots of pixies in birdcages. 

The “You Deserve It” Prompt - An AU where BookwormGal’s take on Anti-Cosmo is replaced with mine, and I rewrite the almost-climax scene of Never Had a Friend Like Me appropriately. Basically, Anti-Cosmo grinds the entire “Let’s throw everybody in lava” plan to a halt, much to H.P.’s annoyance, and spontaneously throws a massive party in Amanda’s honor for zodiac-related reasons. The plan is still to kill her, but now she’s a fancy sacrifice. Norm is still going through paperwork with Sanderson and has no idea what’s going on. 

The “Only an Idea” / “Learn Your Place” Prompts - Also known as Reedfilter Rules AU. Basically, we’ve got girl pixies this time. In fact, one of them is Rani Reedfilter, the Head Pixie before our H.P. came along, and thus the reason for this AU’s name. Pixie society is very different, being less based on insect biology and probably a bit closer to what the true canon would be. Also, H.P. spent 37 years seducing Rani in order to work his way up to the vice president position because that’s just how he is, and Sanderson gossips with everybody and judges him super hard. Definitely more of a schemer than loyal lieutenant.

So it’s just a different take on the Pixies, really. Possibly worth mentioning that the reason H.P. takes an interest in Sanderson in this AU is that he and Sanderson are both Fairy/Pixie crossbreeds, with Sanderson’s mother being a will o’ the wisp. Sanderson has blue eyes, too. My favorite joke about RR!AU is that H.P. is a massive klutz who trips over half of everything and yet still tries super hard to be cool. And unlike his touch-starved Riddleverse Classic counterpart, Reedfilter Rules!Sanderson is super squeamish about any type of physical affection, and I just think it’s funny.

For now, I’ve tentatively chosen to scrap this version of the “Learn Your Place” Prompt (which covered some of H.P.’s flirting from Rani’s perspective) in favor of making “Learn Your Place” a Cupid and Juandissimo friendship Prompt. So I’m not really sure what my plans are for RR!AU, especially since between the two Pixie AUs I have, I favor the next one more than this one. So I might keep it to myself, or I still might make it its own ‘fic. I’m a weirdo that way.

“The Gyne and the Drone” - An absolutely self-indulgent story based on that moment in Fairy Idol where H.P. is referred to as “Sanderson’s friend.” In this AU (Happy Dip AU to you guys), they’re friends who met in their adulthood, and this ‘fic covers the development of that friendship. Specifically, it covers H.P.’s ascension into Head Pixie-hood and Sanderson’s parallel journey up the social ladder to being his alpha retinue drone. It’s kind of like a slow burn platonic friendship with pheromone benefits, as they awkwardly navigate around each other’s expectations and try to work out the whole preening situation when it’s not something they’ve been doing since Sanderson was a kid this time.

In Reedfilter Rules AU, the Head Pixie isn’t allowed to have a mate, and H.P. was a lowly worker who flirted his way up the social ladder after recognizing how much Rani misses the husband (“match”) she had to let go of following her coronation. But here in “The Gyne and the Drone”, only the Head Pixie is allowed to have children (Don’t worry- we’ve got other Pixie companies to avoid inbreeding). So far this ‘fic consists of H.P. sliding from his bed to the floor and whining to his dad that he doesn’t want kids because he “doesn’t liiiiiiiiike people”, and Sanderson dragging H.P. out to his first rave. I’m pretty sure that first one is just a placeholder. Second one is definitely happening.

Basically, it’s an AU where all the general worldbuilding is the same, except there are several Pixie companies and it’s kind of like one of those fantasy books with the castles and arranged marriages, but more corporate. And instead of Wolbachia there are loose hints of haplodiploidy because I am eusocial insect trash and I don’t even. For once H.P. is telling the truth when he says he’s not a dad and has no sons /shot

Don’t ask me what I do in my spare time because it’s just this.

“Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails” - A silly, stylistically-different multi-chapter story about Foop and Anti-Marigold gathering potion ingredients to turn Foop into a boy after his aging potion accidentally turns him into a girl. 

So, it’s an alternate, way more lighthearted explanation on the origin of the “magical to-die-for heart-shaped pendant” we saw in “Blue Angel” than the explanation I went with in Identity Theft. While Identity Theft and “Snips” can’t coexist in the same timeline, neither exactly contradicts Riddleverse Classic canon and in theory you could accept either one as your headcanon’d backstory for the pendant. Even so, I technically consider Identity Theft to be part of the Riddleverse Classic works for purely stylistic reasons.

“Pulling Your Puzzles Apart” - AU where Timmy considers his best friend to be A.J. over Chester, so during Fairy Idol, Norm ends up going to college with A.J. and does not enjoy it at all. The first chapter is done (Mayor’s perspective was surprisingly a lot of fun), and the outline is done with 10 chapters pinned down. Except I still have a few details about the finale to untangle. Hmph.

The title of this piece is from the lyrics of the Coldplay song “The Scientist”, and all the chapters are named after other lyrics in the song.

“King Me” - Riddleverse worldbuilding is exactly the same, but this time Anti-Dusty received his inheritance over Anti-Bryndin. Thus, Anti-Wanda was raised as nobility and heir to the High Countess seat, and Anti-Cosmo was raised in rags on the outskirts of society. Talon still exists and is still raised by both Anti-Cosmo and H.P. (though his biological parents differ from Riddleverse Classic canon). This will probably be a one-shot unless it gets too long and needs to be divided into three. It’s basically a bunch of Anti-Wanda / H.P. friendship as Anti-Wanda works out her feelings on her impending marriage to a man she’s never met. And then… wedding! I also included some pieces from one of the very first Prompts I ever wrote, which had to be scrapped due to conflicting with finalized headcanons. Nice to actually use them in an AU!

Thus far I’ve had to physically restrain Anti-Wanda from sweeping Anti-Cosmo off for immediate kisses, because she would totally do so if I let her and I suspect she’ll get away with it in the end. I only have the Anti-Wanda and H.P. chat done so far, so I’m not sure what the ending is, but I suspect it’s going to dissolve into absolute wedding night fluff. Except for the fact that my document is currently a collection of several directions to take this story, one of which involves broken wings and one of which involves Anti-Cosmo on a farm. So I don’t even know where this is going yet. It could go anywhere. All I know for sure is that it’s told from Anti-Wanda’s point of view and she’s a riot, and Anti-Cosmo becomes High Count in this piece (hence the title).

“Just Ask” - Okay, well, I haven’t really planned anything officially, but I have been entertaining some ideas of an AU one-shot where Gary and Betty both grew up in Dimmsdale independently of one another, and only cross paths at the Learn-A-Torium. It’s their summer job that they each try to juggle with a thousand other life responsibilities (such as Betty’s anxiety issues and Gary’s difficult home life). So it’s a “what could have been” piece about if the Pixies hadn’t invaded their childhoods, and had instead approached them for the first time just before the Musical. Some fun ideas in this one, my personal favorite being Gary’s overprotective biker friends, so it’ll be great if I get around to it.

Dust to Dust and “Antlers for Dummies” are both crossover pieces (with “ChalkZone” and “Milo Murphy’s Law” respectively) and would technically fall in the Off the Rails category too, if I ever do write them. The “First Impressions” Prompt is kinda a crossover too, in that it covers the Creature Convention where Cosmo and Bunsen met according to “Bunsen Is a Beast” canon, and there are other Nick show cameos around too.

Potentially more to come, since I have tons of scrapped FOP stuff and maybe I can recycle some of it. But most of what I write fits within standard Riddleverse canon, so these are the only pieces I know of right now. What sounds interesting to you guys?

[deadmandairyland]

Chihiro Fujisaki for the ask~

Thanks for the ask! I probably put way too many words in this. I hope you like reading!

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character:

Chihiro is probably my favorite character in Danganronpa. I think there was a time where I would have said he definitely was my favorite, but I have to give credit where credit is due because most of the characters in this series are amazing and uniquely and creatively designed. But Chihiro will always be near the top of my favorites if he somehow isn’t in first place. He is an unsung hero of the series. Without him the survivors of DR1 would have never escaped the school. He is at least in part responsible for the creation of the Neo World Program, which is a key part of the Hope’s Peak Academy arc’s lore. Supplementary materials often show Chihiro being at least somewhat involved in the backstory of the series. As I mentioned back when Absolute Despair Girls came out, Chihiro was basically the Adventure Time snail of the series for a time, showing up in or being mentioned in about as many installments and spin-offs of the series as Junko Enoshima. I’m pretty sure Chihiro has made more appearances in one way, shape, or form than friggin’ Komaeda, and everyone loves Komaeda. (Though screentime, on the other hand, is another story. I think it’s safe to say Junko and Komaeda won out on that end)

All in all, I feel that this is a character who deserves better–not just because he died such a tragic death, but in a meta sense as well. I feel like the series, after building up Chihiro in flavor text for so many installments, decided to backpedal a bit and make him more of a footnote than anyone important. This is especially disappointing considering that when most people talk about Chihiro, most of the time it’s in reference to the gender controversy, rather than his accomplishments in the series. Granted, this is a very important aspect of Chihiro’s character as well, and I’m not going to go out of my way to be a dick to people who say they saw something different in Chihiro than what I saw, but whenever I go through the tags it does seem like Chihiro seems to be one-note to a lot of people, and I feel it is a shame because there is a lot going on there. Themes of inner strength and resurrection and how destructive enforced gender roles and bullying in Japanese high schools can get when taken to the logical extreme. A lot of this seems to be ignored. I mean we all joke about how Chihiro’s birthday is Pi Day, but how many people also realize it’s White Day, the day when boys are expected to give gifts back to girls in response to being given chocolates on Valentine’s Day? Thinking about it that way, it makes you wonder what Chihiro’s birthdays were actually like. With all the talk surrounding Chihiro’s gender, I’m surprised that I’ve never seen anyone speculate on this. Might make for an interesting fanfiction prompt too, regardless of how you view Chihiro’s gender identity.

This got awfully wordy and more political than I expected it to get and I apologize. Though, to be fair, Danganronpa is a very political series… usually. Still, this is just a fun little meme, and I don’t intend to dive head first off a cliff into the sea and jagged rocks of fandom discourse, so let me end this segment by briefly saying another thing I like about Chihiro that will hopefully lift all of our spirits before we move on:

Chihiro is a sweet and adorable cinnamon roll that we do not deserve.

Just look at his smiling face!

No matter how sad I am, that smile will always make me feel a little better, if not outright happy.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Well, I could look over the charts I’ve made and find probably a million Chihiro ships (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration; it’s probably more like twenty, which is still about fifteen too many), so I’m just going to stick with the big ones.

Naegi, Asahina, Sakura, and Ishimaru.

…Maybe Mondo. Maybe Leon. Maybe Mukuro. Maybe real world Chiaki. Maybe Kuzuryu. Maybe that Yukimaru guy who we sadly never get to see. Maybe Miaya… who we sadly never get to see. Maybe a crap ton of others…

But mostly the first four I listed.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

All of the “maybes” in the previous section.

Am I cheating at this? Yes.

…

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Don’t worry. I won’t be going for the obvious joke. (I mean I better not, especially after that first segment. It would defeat the purpose of that giant wall of text I made you sit through)

Instead I’m just going to remind anyone who thinks Chihiro is overrated and wasn’t an important character that Chihiro vicariously saved Naegi’s life and therefore the other survivors’ lives as well and y’all can suck it.

Also there’s that thing I made a thing in my DR3 fic that I still haven’t finished yet or even updated since November (oh my god it’s May already) where Chihiro is a fan of professional wrestling and that’s now a headcanon of mine that I’m sure very few people have or would agree with.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

This might seem like a cop-out, since this is Danganronpa and all, but I wish Chihiro survived.

To be fair it wouldn’t make sense from a narrative standpoint. Alter Ego is essentially a replacement/doppelganger for Chihiro, so having them co-exist in the story would be jarring. Also Chihiro plays the part of sacrificial lamb perfectly, and the foreshadowing leading to Chihiro’s death is written remarkably well. (Even as far back as the very beginning of chapter two, which occurs immediately after Leon’s execution, Chihiro is distraught over having sent Leon to his death, and Chihiro even says that he would rather die than do that again)

But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, damn it.

#LetChihiroLive2018

my OTP:

Naegi x Chihiro. Two adorable cinnamon rolls with heartwarming and occasionally sad Free Time Events that actually tie into the plot in such a way that they actually feel 100% canon. There is also that punch to the gut that happens at the end of Chihiro’s FTEs if you manage to get them all. Naegi’s reactions to Chihiro being gone are also heartbreaking, especially in the anime adaptation which includes this response to Alter Ego being crushed into a ball that I admit there is a possibility I could be taking out of context here but it’s worth mentioning.

“We lost him again.”

And of course, as I mentioned before, Alter Ego saves Naegi’s life later, which means Chihiro saves Naegi’s life, which means Chihiro effectively saves all of the DR1 survivors. Important character is important.

Oh, and also Naegi can give Chihiro a thong for a present, which is still hilarious to me. I mean I know Chihiro isn’t the only character who likes the thong, but even Togami liking the gift isn’t as funny to me as Chihiro liking it. And Togami alone liking it is straight-up absurd. It’s a thong. That you can give as a gift to other people. During a game where people are forced to kill each other in order to escape what is essentially a prison. A thong. The only thing that would make it funnier is if it changed the outcome of School Mode. “Hey, remember this thong you gifted me? I’d like to return it, because it just occurred to me that this is a really weird gift. Why, Naegi? Why did you give me a thong for a gift? You could have given me perfume, or a Kirlian camera, or a portable video game console, or a punk rock T-shirt, but no. You gave me a thong. Why?”

But for the most part, it’s their interactions. FTEs included, I love all of the interactions between these two, both one-and-one and with the group. It always seems like they have each other’s backs and care about each other’s well-being. Chihiro even foreshadows the memory wipe very early on in the game in a way that makes me wonder how close they might have been before the memory wipe.

Also, they’re just sweet to each other and it’s adorable and heartwarming and, y’know, goals. But if you prefer your ships to be more interesting, these two do have that potential what with their baggage and all–Chihiro for obvious reasons and Naegi being just some guy in a relationship with someone who is far smarter, nicer, and more talented than him. So if conflict (though it’d likely be more along the lines of inner conflict, or conflict dealing with others outside the relationship) is what you’re looking for, there is potential for that too, even if we don’t see it very often.

(Honestly I think that’s why there isn’t a whole lot of content of this ship, at least nowadays. It seems like a lot of people ship it, but no one really writes for it much or draws much of it beyond fluff. The ship itself, I think, is seen as too fluffy for engaging storytelling… if you’re not thinking outside the box, anyway)

my cross over ship:

Pick a programmer, a hacker, or an intentionally gender-ambiguous or “otokonoko” type character who is roughly within Chihiro’s not-fully-established age range from any work that I’ve personally seen or played and I’ve probably considered shipping Chihiro with them at least once. Honorable mention goes to Pidge and Saika Totsuka, whom I’m pretty sure I’ve at least talked about and compared Chihiro to on this blog.

a headcanon fact

Remember when I said that the series seems to be backpedaling a bit after making Chihiro have an ungodly amount of behind-the-scenes importance? Well screw that. I mentioned it here a couple years back (and I have since mellowed out on the whole “If Chihiro isn’t important in DR3 we riot” thing so don’t worry about that), but I’ll mention it again. IF said that Chihiro recognized Monokoma’s programming as something he worked on. His FTEs say that he was working on an AI project for some company. And Usami looks way too much like Monokuma to be a coincidence.

So screw any potential retcons that may come out of Monaca Towa being the mass producer of Monokuma units, because I believe that the company Chihiro was making the AI for was Towa, and Monaca modified the AI to fit Junko’s needs, which would tie everything together into a neat little bow.

But sadly, this is still only a headcanon. But it’s one that I feel has a lot of weight to it, and that the series has yet to make impossible. So I’m clinging onto it like a friggin’ koala.

Holy crap, this was long! And yet I feel like I haven’t said much of anything. It’s tough to bring my thoughts into words sometimes. But I think it’s plain to see (damn it, Tsumugi, get out of here, we’re not paying your VA double for this post) that I love Chihiro, and he’s definitely one of my favorite DR characters if not my top favorite.

Thanks again for the ask!

[happy-meo]

Save Me. (Yoongi x Reader) Bonus: The Letter

“It swallowed me, this lunatic. Please save me tonight. Within this childish madness, you will save me tonight.” - [“Save Me” - BTS]

** WARNING ** THIS IS A BIG SPOILER! IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE SERIES/STARTED PLEASE CLICK THE LINKS BELOW!  **

Summary: It was an unprecedented love that bloomed within the halls of your high school, until secret words were overheard, and shattered the budding romance. It changed your life forever, leading you down a path you had never thought you would be on– training to become a secret agent. You chose it to escape Yoongi and the results of how things ended between you two, but as fate would have it, that very same choice ended up leading you right back to him. Will you be able to save your clients and solve mysteries together despite your history? Will you be able to save each other? Will you able to save yourself…from yourself?    

Yoongi x Reader (ft. Jin & all the other BTS members)

Secret Agent AU

Mystery, Action, Angst, & Fluff (contains some violence, mentions of murder, death, harassment, and bullying)

PARTS: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (Finale) | Bonus: The Letter

A/N: For all you curious calico cats :) <3 Thank you for everyone’s love and support for this series! 

Dear Y/N,

           It must be odd to get a letter from someone who you have contrived as the "bad guy". But regardless of what you think of me, I have chosen you to be the one I tell my story to. My full confession. Because you of all people have walked the same path that I have, but somewhere along the line, you gained friendships, while I found a purpose to keep me moving forward. So this is my story, for I fear that things will have to end soon. But I am entrusting my last words to you. Use it for what you would like, as you would like. I just ask that it is to fulfill the end result that I had envisioned-- a world where no one would have to be belittled and trampled for no reason other than being who they are.

           You must be wondering...how? How did I get to this point? How did we perfectly enact all these murders? Whilst I believe you know more than you let on and have probably put a couple of things together, let me explain from the beginning.

           It all began even before you ever met me or my brother. With the death of our parents in a tragic event that no one was blamed or arrested for because money had covered it up, and our separation as twins who were already cogniscient of the harsh realities of the world. We weren't wanted as a pair. People couldn't be bothered with two kids, much less "confused" by having basically "the same child". And obviously, we had no say, no choice in the matter. We were sold, given away to people who paid cheaply for orphans. My brother was treated as a slave in the family he was adopted into, while I was treated as if I hardly existed.

           Why did they adopt us if they were only going to act like they didn't want us? I wish I knew.

           So my brother became violent in retaliation, while I got used to being invisible and passive. As you personally witnessed, I was constantly bullied. It wasn't just high school. It was every.single.year. If you had asked me why...I wouldn't be able to tell you. It just happened, and I let it happen. You were lucky that your family took you away from that, but mine didn't care, no matter how many teachers reached out to them. Eventually, even the teachers turned their backs on me and stopped trying. But my only saving grace was that I kept in constant contact with my twin. He was home-schooled so he was always curious about the school life, and I dreamed of a life away from school.

           Once we were old enough to be independent, my brother and I moved in together. But obviously, our adopted families weren't keen about us reuniting...so we set up a little "accident" for them. And that's probably when it truly all began.

           We had a notion that they deserved it for the way they treated us, and we were proud of ourselves. We got away with it perfectly, and no one suspected anything. For years, the incident was tucked away as a one-time thing for both of us.

           I continued on with my studies, while my brother worked a lot of odd jobs. Sometimes when I wanted to sleep in or if he needed a break from work, we would switch places. At first, it was just an experiment, but when no one noticed, we began to do it more often. Our habits slowly became one. We knew everything about each other and about every person that was in our lives. We went about our days comfortably.

           I thought my life was going well during university. I got my degree. I was left well enough alone during classes and in between. But after graduation, I landed my job at this school, where I relived the horrors of my school years through my students. I was triggered once again. I saw first hand the amount of fucks given by the staff and more or less the other students, the fear, the helplessness. In my first few years, I tried my best to counsel them. I tried my hardest to save these children, to become the savior I wish I had during my childhood. But it was the biggest culture shock I received when I realized this mentality of selfishness was too deeply rooted for me to change alone. I was constantly disheartened by this notion, and so angry at everyone.

           It was my twin who planted the seed of the plan in my mind, and in the beginning, I brushed it off. But it began festering with every new student I tried to help but couldn't. Then my brother took action before I gave my blessing. We knew each other so well that he had no doubt I would come around. So he faked his own death.

           From his odd jobs, he knew the underground, dark scene of the city fairly well and with his infectious, manipulative personality, he made connections, so setting up a fight with the gang's boss was a walk in the park for him. With the help of a few of the gang members he had convinced to side with him, he mutilated the leader's body, and single-handedly took charge of one of the largest underground crime gangs. Even without proper schooling, his mind was brilliant, much more so than mine ever was. He could turn a phrase, even convince his opponents he was right about the most ridiculous things within seconds. He plotted heinous crimes and robberies that went unsolved for years to appease his underlings, to gain their trust.

           He remained hidden underground and we made a pact that neither of us would openly be at the same place at the same time. No one knew we were twins. People only knew I had a brother, but no one knew that it was a twin brother. And to the world, he was dead.

           It started off as a plan to eliminate all of those who were bullies to make a strong statement, to give hope to the victims that bullies were mortal too, that they weren't as strong as they seemed. But when we set up cameras around the school and began doing thorough background checks with my brother's connections and through getting the staff to open up to me on their own, we realized that we could serve a better sense of justice by broadening our criteria. Why is it that certain crimes remained unpunished? Why is it that some criminals walked free, given wealth and popularity, but those who remained innocent had to hang their head and hide in fear?  

           I used to think that fate and karma would just come around and give these people what they deserved, but I got tired of waiting with only excuses being built up over each other. So my brother and I solidified our plot to kill and get away with it in order to educate everyone, to give strength to all the victims. To say that we do have the power to fight back, that we can't sit and wait for justice; we have to enact it ourselves.

           And well, you know that part of the story. My brother was in charge of the killings. Through the secret pathway in the library, we were able to get in and out of the school undetected. With the strong sleeping pills given to the Science Teacher, we were able to get into his freezer to store the bodies without his knowledge. We planned it so that we always had an alibi whenever the bodies were found and whenever the actual murder happened. I even went so far as to injure myself during the school dance to ensure that we weren't a suspect.

           My part was to gather and manipulate the students in order to help us, to personally gather footage and intel about our potential targets, and to set up the targets so my brother can get to them. As a Counselor, I talked to the people who were being bullied and targetted their vulnerable minds to act out their vengeance. I gave them subtle ideas and platforms to release their stress. I promised I would help them out of getting in trouble. And so, they started fights and riots as a distraction whenever I asked them. Sometimes, they offered themselves up as bait to capture the targets or to gather more evidence of their cruelty. They didn't know the entire plan, but I'm sure by the end, they had an inkling about what they were a part of. Yet, they grew more confident with each death. They gained strength and self-esteem, because like me, they found a purpose; they found bigger reason as to why they had to go through all this suffering.

           I ended up wiring the Principal's embezzled money to pay the news to keep quiet to frame him even further. And the families stayed quiet because videos of what their child did in school were sent to their houses, and they were so embarrassed and ashamed of their children's actions. With that video came a letter detailing that if the child's death was heard about anywhere, the video would be released and their company's name ultimately tainted. Most families didn't want that happening, nor did they want the memory of their child ruined by the cruelty of the media.

           Surely, you can understand where we were coming from. What we wanted to gain, what we desired.

           I envied you, Y/N. Truly. As soon as I realized that you still had Yoongi by your side, Jin, Prez, and a few others. I wondered if I would've been a different person had I opened myself up as you had. I really loved being a Counselor; I never regretted being one, but I guess I couldn't run away from my past.

           So maybe, just maybe. What I've sacrificed my life for will spark a change. And I truly hope, Y/N, no one will have to go through what we did.

           And if there's one thing that I truly meant with my whole heart, it's that I want you to keep being yourself. You gave me hope, and honestly, I doubted our plan...I wanted to end it a few times because of you. Your existence itself showed me that there was a different path to take to be happy. But I knew it was too late to turn back for me.

           On the other hand, my brother has begun to be uncontrollable in his thirst for blood. While I have a purpose for my actions, he does not. With every passing day, I fear that once our goal is achieved, he won't be able to be contained. So should he come out alive, I ask you to detain him for his own good. I believe I have listed a sufficient amount of reasons for you to do so.

           Do what you will with my confession. I trust your judgment and character, and what it seems like your purpose is.

           But most importantly, I want you to live happily. Show me everyday that I made the wrong choice.

           And maybe, just maybe, if I get a second chance at another life, we can be friends.

           Goodbye Y/N, and thank you.

                                                                                     --- Counselor

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[stringnarratives]

An Act of Shelf Discovery

[This post brought to you spoiler free and full of the blogger’s personal experience!]

In my third-ever post on this blog on March 23, 2017, I wrote about making the switch from physical books to e-books. For someone who loved (and still loves) the sensory aspect of physical books, it was a daunting challenge, but a necessary one: At the time, I would go on average 6 months between moves, had three shelves at my consistent disposal, and more books than I could count. Books lived in piles next to my bed, were stored in boxes in the closet, were forced upon my brother (who is also an avid supporter of this blog and probably reading this post: In which case, hi!) under the guise of “recommendations” so they could live in his space instead of mine. 

Fast forward two years and that habit has set in hard - I purchase between 85 and 90 percent of my books digitally now, even though some of the circumstances that made it necessary have thankfully expired (For the record, infrequent moving is an absolute joy!). In addition to a more compact, generally cheaper library that I abuse less and finish more, e-books have also contributed strongly to another new book-buying habit I’ve developed: Preordering.

In 2019, I made it a goal to learn more about my own literary consumption by forgoing the majority of traditional book shopping and preordering any new release that piqued my interest. Tracking each of my pre-purchases via color-coded spreadsheet (as one does, and indeed, must), I’ve thrown myself full-force into the new, and learned a lot in the process, both about the function of preorders in the publishing industry and about my own taste in literature.

The Purpose of Preorders

Before this experiment, my main experience with pre-orders had been primarily in relation to video games (I’m a sucker for midnight release downloads directly to my console) or limited edition media that I’m unlikely to procure without being proactive. I didn’t really know much about them beyond the consumer perspective, but being the chronic researcher I (clearly) am, I wanted to know what my new purchasing habit meant in greater context. 

To break it down, preorders serve two main purposes in the publishing industry. They are A) a promotional tool for authors and publishers to build hype for a book before it’s released and B) an indicator for stores to properly respond to a book’s demand.

A preorder’s promotional value could come from a few different avenues. As pre-order sales contribute to the release week sales total for a book (as mentioned in this Parnassus Musings post), they can be valuable fuel for books that rocket to the top of bestseller lists. For first time or less well-known authors, having a preorder page automatically create an additional searchable content and feeling of legitimacy for books in the promotional phase. The more people who pre-order the book are also potentially more people who would share about their pre-order with their friends.

For established authors, preorders often come from existing fans of a series or the author themselves, and serve as an indicator as to the activity of the existing fanbase, efficiency of an author’s platform for communicating with fans, as well as their interest in new work.

In 2016, the written script of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” became Amazon’s No. 1 preorder for the year, according to CNET, and topped Barnes & Noble’s chart as well, according to Rolling Stone. While the exact number of preorders was apparently not released, it makes complete sense that the number would be a big one. Pottermore (which Wikipedia describes as a “digital publishing, e-commerce, entertainment, and news company from J. K. Rowling” not limited to the popular virtual Hogwarts experience) released a bulletin early last year that over 500 million Harry Potter books had been sold in the 20 years since the first book’s release. 

In addition to their promotional function, preorders also serve as an indicator for a book’s popularity upon release. In a 2017 blog post to authors about the importance of pre-orders, Penguin Random House stresses that a high enough preorder number could “lead to retailers increasing their initial orders.” Last November, Barnes & Noble reported former first lady Michelle Obama’s memoir “Becoming” to be the most preordered book of 2018, according to The Washington Post.  This article in particular points out how booksellers prepare for a book’s popularity based on a preorder buzz, “bracing” for enormous numbers of books to fly off the shelves by bulking up their orders ahead of time.

Preorders are a function of marketing in the publishing industry - an opportunity to get readers in the door early, and get them to talk about a book before its release. In return, readers get discounts, bonuses, the satisfaction of knowing they’ll be one of the first members of the public to receive the work, and, very occasionally, some insight into who they are as readers.

Getting Shelf-ish

In the four-ish months (at time of writing), around 22 books have come to me through the preorder method. With 13 books total read so far this year, about 7 of them were preorders, both they and the books between them have plenty to tell about how I read.

My taste is more consistent in concept than it is in practice.

Anyone who’s stuck around String Narratives long enough will know that, across mediums, I’m big on a few genres: Science fiction, horror and satire, primarily. When I started preordering books as a part of this experiment, I thought it pretty safe to assume that if a book fell into one of those categories, there was a good chance I’d enjoy it. Which, for the record, probably still holds true. 

But one thing that I did notice early on in this experiment and didn’t expect at all was that I very, very quickly get bored with my own taste. I can get ahold of too much science fiction at once, too much horror. Both genres can get absolutely exhausting without a break between them - breaks I took naturally when purchasing books in a more traditional fashion without realizing. So, for all of those winter sci-fi reads I was so excited about started losing their appeal, I found myself turning to much different fare as a palate cleanser: YA fiction, books about food, and biography - three genres much lower on my radar which I ended up enjoying just as much.

Access to books is rarely the thing that keeps me from reading.

It is what it says on the tin. Where I’d previously easily blamed “not having anything to read” (a concept laughable to anyone who knows me, much less has lived with me and my books) for a lack of desire to consume printed work, I have to now own up to my truth. As books are on a similar mid-week release schedule as most other popular media, I get at least one book delivered to my e-reader most Tuesdays, which means there is always something to read. If I don’t want to read, it’s simply because I don’t feel like it. (Which is totally okay! Life happens and we roll with it.)

My library is built from recommendations.

Recommendations and reviews are my bread and butter when it comes to choosing what kind of media I want to ingest, and not always in the way you think. I typically rely on others to help discern the true atmosphere of a work when I’m easily caught up in cover art and promotional images. While books in the promotional stage are less likely to have a significant number of reviews, I still rely fairly heavily on Advance Reader Copy (ARC) reviews to estimate how much I’ll enjoy a book before preordering. Adding onto that, I get a lot of my book news from online outlets specifically dedicated to new book releases, including Verge’s monthly round-up of science fiction books and Book Riot’s whole entire site. 

My new release discovery time is anywhere between 1 month and 10 months.

Was I absolutely stoked to find out that my book of the year 2018 - Semiosis by Sue Burke - was getting a sequel? I absolutely was. Did I preorder that sequel nine months and 11 days before it’s projected to come out? I absolutely did. For authors I already know, love and follow, I’m happy to be that fan that lets everyone know I’ve already made the preorder. For authors I’m less familiar with, or who are debuting their first book, that ten month window might actually shrink to something more like ten days. It isn’t a hard and fast rule, but there certainly is something to being in the know when it comes to favorite authors’ upcoming releases - a result of great communication and even better marketing.

The narratives we consume say a lot about us. They speak to our loves, our fears, the places we want to go between the hours of our waking lives. We pass them along to those around us, intentionally or not. 

But as we become consistently more aware of how the stories around us shape our lives and mature in our understanding of how they fit into the world, we must also, I believe, recognize something else: The way we acquire narratives says just as much about us as the stories we choose to slip into. 

[isaacscrawford]

Dr. Nuance versus Crusaders of the Lost Art

By, SAURABH JHA MD

  The two writers who got inside my head were polar opposites. Christopher Hitchens was an atheist, who mocked religion incessantly, and spared few sacred cows – he went after both Mother Teresa and Bill Clinton, though for patently opposite reasons. G.K. Chesterton, the sardonic, plump Englishman, went after heretics. Hitchens destroyed orthodoxy. Chesterton mocked radicals. Hitchens once quipped that “what can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.” Chesterton quipped that the rebel, the infinite skeptic, was in fact a decerebrate orthodox. If both were on Twitter they’d be trolling each other, non-stop. Though fighting on opposite sides, they had a commonality – they punished sloppy thinking, one with prose and the other with wit.

I’ve long wondered who would be healthcare’s Hitchens and Chesterton. Physician writers have generally been disappointments, because they veer, almost uncontrollably, towards tedious self-flagellation, ever keen to internalize medicine’s original sin – an imperfect science, a stubborn art. Unlike prophets of yore who risked harm in expressing their views, medicine’s prophets moralize from the comfort of their six-figure salaries. “We do too much”, they say, even as they’re grass fed by the excess they so disdain – count me in this army of hypocrites.

For many years healthcare watchers have been fed a steady stream of Disneyland economics, trite platitudes, which have simplified the complexities of healthcare – cheesecake factories and checklists, value not volume, “we must do things for patients, not to patients” (needless to say that often to do things for patients you must do things to patients), amongst others. Whatever purpose platitudes are supposed to serve, they bring all critical thinking to a jerky end. I recall several talks during the passage of the Affordable Care Act in which the speaker would romp to a standing ovation for stating blithely – “let’s pay doctors for doing the right thing”, with me still muttering “how?”

In the midst of getting carpet bombed by bromides I was forwarded a piece by Dr. Lisa Rosenbaum. I almost didn’t read the piece – I rarely read perspectives, other than mine. Before reading perspectives, I check their provenance. A young cardiologist writing in the NEJM – I was convinced this was another writer enthralled with Rawls distributive justice – another tedious medical moralizer. I was wrong.

In the piece Rosenbaum explored the complexities of defining quality and value, and difficulty in paying for performance. This was long before it became fashionable to question the value of measuring value. I could believe what was written, but I couldn’t believe that it was written, even less so that it was published. To mix a metaphor, it seemed that I wasn’t alone in the Potemkin village who saw that the emperor had no clothes.

Rosenbaum is neither Chesterton nor Hitchens, but in a space crowded with piety her writings are a breath of fresh air, and induce an uncommon, though not an unsurprising, amount of ire, such as her trilogy on physician-industry relationship. To make the case that money corrupts is easy and requires little courage, particularly in the age when disclosing financial conflict of interest is like brushing your teeth. To make the contrarian case that financial ties with industry lead to net benefits is dicey. But it is precisely because it is dicey that it extracts more linguistic muscle, more thought, more logic, and more courage. Rosenbaum delivered, and if her detractors prevailed, it was only by a whisker, and not for the lack of her prose.

Both Hitchens and Chesterton might have patted Rosenbaum for taking the unpopular side. Hitchens might have been happy that a sacred cow, such as our obsession with financial ties, went unspared, and Chesterton that the unfree radicals were gently mocked. I, for one, was just pleased watching the riot unfold on social media.

It is Rosenbaum’s most recent piece which has drawn the most ire, in which she asks whether the less-is-more movement has, in its missionary zeal, oversimplified overuse in its crusade against too much medicine. I should, at this conjecture, disclose that I’m a less-is-more apostle – I’d like to think that I’m more of a John the Baptist – I want others to run with it. Diagnostic and therapeutic, particularly diagnostic, incontinence offends me. I believe the role of medicine is to heal the sick, not hound the well.

One cause of angst was the use of “crusade” in the title of her piece. Bush Jr. realized that “crusade” isn’t a word which should be used lightly. “Crusade” relegates the less-is-more movement from science to religion, and is admittedly an unfortunate choice. But apt. Very apt. I invite you to watch this movie on the state of American healthcare, called “Escape Fire” – the analogy here is with a fireman who burnt a fire to stop a forest fire. The movie is sensational but tedious. I hoped Dirty Harry would walk in any moment and save me from soporification. I’m sorry – but if you believe healthcare reform is an “escape fire,” then you shouldn’t be offended by “crusade.”

Elsewhere, medical errors have been compared to a jumbo jet crashing every day, even to urban genocide. I struggle to understand how someone can remain inert by these hyperbolic, and frankly absurd, analogies yet be offended by Rosenbaum’s allusion to the holy war. What am I missing?

Rosenbaum’s strength is her weakness – her prose, which is so lucid that you know exactly what she’s saying, unlike that of many medical writers who use such barbaric prose that their thoughts remain stuck in their ampulla, means that the reader, drawn to arguing with the author, forgets that their intemperance is a testament to her skill. The job of a writer isn’t to tell you how to think but what to think about. Rosenbaum has achieved this marvelously.

A perspective isn’t a meta-analysis, it isn’t a quantitative truth, rather it is supposed to encourage the reader to examine the conventional wisdom, no matter how settled the truth appears. Thus, the charge that Rosenbaum’s piece should have been better peer reviewed misses the point – peer review is merely micro-group think. A good essayist shouldn’t just survive peer review but actively dodge it, if she wishes to challenge group think. A good essayist must take a stand, and Rosenbaum did, admirably.

For an essayist it is the post publication review which is important, and no better compliment to Rosenbaum could have been paid than by veteran journalist and a cardiology maven, who knows more about cardiology than cardiologists, Larry Husten, who tore into some of her arguments. Husten is a fine writer, too, and has an eye for controversy. It seems Rosenbaum got inside Husten’s head in the same way Hitchens once got inside my head – an applause to Rosenbaum for getting inside Husten’s head, and to Husten for graciously allowing her to get inside his head – it takes two to a dialectic. This is the way it should be.

I take one exception to Husten’s critique – in which he says Rosenbaum is an apologist for the status quo, a medical conservative. It is easy demonizing a healthcare system which has gained international disrepute – though oddly, doctors still queue outside the American embassies in New Delhi and Beirut. U.S. healthcare is so imminently disagreeable that pointing its flaws isn’t rocket science. What’s more challenging is understanding how we got here, what drives waste, and what will be forfeited if we curbed waste.

These inconvenient questions are repeatedly dodged by our thought leaders, but Rosenbaum refuses to ignore them – whether this is her strategy for conserving the status quo or changing it is beside the point – trade-offs exist. If Rosenbaum is supporting the status quo she is certainly not taking the path of least resistance. My guess is that Rosenbaum was exposed to Shakespeare very early on and literally read every single word in every single play, and has an uncommon, and rather unshakeable, appreciation of human complexity. Regardless, the point is that Rosenbaum didn’t invent trade-offs in healthcare – they exist despite her, not because of her.

Trade-offs mean you must choose. For some the choice between overuse and underuse is a false one. It is false if one considers underuse as a resource and access issue, and overuse as an abundance issue. It is unclear whether overuse creates an opportunity cost leading to underuse – the logical answer is that it does, and it certainly will in budget-constrained systems, though the effect in the U.S. is less clear, because overuse finances some of healthcare, it finances many services, including the less profitable ones.

Anyway, this is not the point I’m belaboring. Rather, I’m talking about trade-offs between more use (overuse) and less use in areas of abundance. How much is the trade-off? It depends. In some situations, such as incidentally detected thyroid nodule, the harms of overdiagnosis/ overtreatment overwhelm the miniscule gains so much so that trade-offs aren’t even worth exploring. In others, such as the new definition of hypertension and statins for primary prevention, there is a real trade-off between extending longevity in many, and conscripting many, many, more to the ranks of disease. I believe we’re overstretching – YMMV, and that’s fine, but we can at least agree on the trade-off.

Another example is imaging. In the diagnostic pursuit of potentially fatal conditions, particularly in low pre-test probability situations, such as pulmonary embolism, ischemic bowel, aortic dissection and acute coronary syndrome, there is a trade-off between false negatives – missed cases – and both the frequency of imaging, and the number of false positives. This trade-off is a fact of life, the basis of signal theory. Doctors overtest because of a culture of safety, a culture accentuated by reports from the Institute of Medicine that diagnostic errors are a plague, and defensive medicine, and societal expectations and not least because, as Rosenbaum candidly admits, “possibility is not the same as probability, but when you’re bearing the weight of another person’s life, the distinction often feels meaningless.”

Which is to say that physician decision making has become like Pascal’s wager – Pascal said that he’d rather believe in God than not, because if there was even the slightest possibility God existed, it was better to err towards believing in God, and thus enjoying heaven, than not believing in God. To borrow the language of option traders – there’s little downside to believing in God. For physicians, the possibility of a catastrophic miss looms large in their decision making. This is most evident in emergency medicine where physicians must decide whether their patient has a life-threatening condition based on imperfect information. Once you think Pascal’s wager – possibility and plausibility always trump probability, and the art of medicine, which is essentially probabilistic, is killed.

The emergency room, depending on your perspective, is either the swamp of waste or the epitome of appropriateness. Appropriateness is difficult to define, ex ante. Waste is a typical Tragedy of Commons – many physicians believes it is the other physician at fault. Emergency physicians blame cardiologists for clogging the outflow pipeline in to the hospital by doing too many stents for stable angina, cardiologists blame emergency physicians for over reacting to chest pain and weakly positive troponins, and radiologists – well we blame everyone but ourselves and our incontinent hedging.

To reduce waste, you must define appropriateness and what is appropriate depends on what you wish to achieve. Let me give you an example. In my days, when life was easier, we would literally ram a nasogastric tube down a patient’s throat, passed the squamocolumnar junction, until it reached the stomach – we were mostly, 98/100, times successful, but occasionally the tube would end up in the patient’s lung. This is now considered a “never event.” To prevent this “never event”, radiographs are taken as the tube is gingerly passed through the esophagus – multiple radiographs are taken until tube reaches the stomach. Is this waste? Depends if you think it is appropriate – regardless, the point is that you need lots of imaging to prevent a “never event”, to practice medicine like Pascal’s wager. Call this waste, call it whatever the hell you want – but there’s a trade-off.

I’ve heard a safety officer say – “we have too much waste and too many missed cases” – without conceding they’re part of the same problem. It’s like wanting a bath without getting wet. You can’t. The obvious retort is that it’s not about overuse or underuse, but an ephemeral “right care” – but that’s a cop out which pretends that trade-offs don’t exist, which isn’t true because as Rosenbaum diplomatically puts it, “it’s not clear that we have the evidence-based knowledge to reduce waste safely.”

I’d have gone a step further and said – let’s reduce waste, let’s make diagnosis more specific, less sensitive, let’s make clinical medicine an art again, and be forthright that it’ll come at the expense of missing a few catastrophic cases. Who is on board? Anyone?

It is quite likely that Rosenbaum and I aren’t equally perturbed by waste, I’m probably more perturbed than her. But we don’t need to agree precisely on how much waste is too much. All we need to agree on are the trade-offs. Because if we can agree on what the trade-offs are, we can at least agree on the terms and conditions of the fighting waste. I’ve seen very little in the less-is-more literature which explicitly acknowledges trade-offs, which concedes that the fight against overuse will come at a cost, but that cost is worth it. If we don’t acknowledge the trade-off we’re back to square one.

The ire against Rosenbaum is unusual. I’ve seldom seen anything like it. It’s as if people read her work and ask, “why aren’t you with us?” It reminds me of Bush Jr’s “you’re either with us or the terrorists.” Rosenbaum has been called “dumb” and “naïve.” Was Atul Gawande “dumb” for comparing healthcare to cheesecake factories, for selling checklists as our panacea? Were the creators of meaningful use “naïve”? Was the crew who brought you “in healthcare jumbo jets crash daily” dumb? If not, why such vitriol against one of the most courageous healthcare writers of our time, who has singularly brought back nuance in healthcare discussions?

Rosenbaum has not replied to a single Tweet belittling her. Brave lads – try this next time – try coming on Twitter several times a day, seeing your timeline flooded with sarcastic and condescending retorts from important people, and half-wits, and then bite your tongue and not retort. I don’t know how many lads will have the strength to restrain themselves – I certainly won’t.

I’m all for a colorful savanna. One of my favorite Tweeps is, in fact, a leading critic of Rosenbaum – Vinay Prasad, another courageous physician, with gruff, who can take on a movement, my natural ally in less-is-more. I’ve often wondered who is braver, Rosenbaum or Prasad. Then I realized that the question is moot. Because the healthcare savanna needs them both.

Meanwhile, can we please bring back the lost art of medicine?

Thank you.

  About the Author:

Saurabh Jha is a radiologist and contributing editor to Healthcare Blog. He can be reached @RogueRad

  Article source:The Health Care Blog

[whitelennykravitz-blog]

I guess Warsaw now has very high contrast memories for me. I’ve been there twice: once on a fickle weekend for sex, and now on a weekend that was dense with my life. This second time was a Friday through Tuesday that included everything: laughter, crying, broken teeth, and mental spaces that both seemed insignificant and insurmountably oppressive.

I’ve been seeing Katarzyna for about a year. Or I guess we met about a year ago, when I walked into the building that housed my new studio, and saw her alit on a balcony wearing a kimono. I say “alit”, because she seemed to be drifting around the concrete railings after having just landed from above, with ivy around her that clung with an air of casualness to walls that showed no signs of hand holds.

She introduced herself a few minutes later and I was smitten. Her face beautiful and turned towards mine, and eyes that held vast confidence that clearly masked severe self-doubt. Eyes like mine. I think that’s why we got along so well. And the sex. Which was amazing. Although, we had the worst first sex I’ve ever had in my life. About halfway through there was a moment where we both looked at each other and the unspoken was almost deafening as it reverberated around awkwardly entangled limbs, “Do we really want to keep doing this?” I would have never thought that sex so clumsy and awful could ever become what it did. Insatiable. Our sex life was the Brussels sprout of my sex life: intolerable at first, and now craved and lusted for.

She was not so keen on me at the start of things. In fact I think she didn’t like me. But something of me found hooks in her, and vice-versa, and a year of fucking in clubs, lead to long distant telephone calls across the world, to us finally landing in the same area of the world once again, where I decided I wanted to break up. It’s hard to tell if it was a flare up of the crushing depression I suffer from that is what caused me to pull the trigger, or the fact that two artists hanging out is basically a pingpong match of people starting sentences with “I”. All those “I”s and distance and it became a practice of spending time with someone while somehow still being completely alone. Either way, distance and the sensation that I was screaming behind my face made me call it quits.

I initially did this over Skype. Never break up with people on Skype, especially if they are prone to large swings of emotion. I now know this after a 4 hour session of being yelled at, being called a coward, and then being told how much I was loved.  This all ended with us planning on meeting in Warsaw to talk about things face-to-face. I know that doesn’t logically follow, but suspend disbelief in the details of this story.

We decided to put off Our Talk until Sunday, giving us 2 days of pretending like we were a real couple. We saw friends, went to exhibitions, fucked like we were trying to redecorate rooms through kinetic energy. I don’t think I’ve ever navigated the texture of so many surfaces with my balls before. This was due to a stage of the fucking that meandered through a foyer and kitchen, where different ledges and surfaces (each adorned with it’s own selection of free range objects, knobs, and finishes) meant a new terrain for my balls to high five like a drunk frat boy at homecoming. Oven knobs, keys, and a steak knife, I believe, were all involved at one point.

We spent some time with her friends: artists she knew and an ex-boyfriend. The ex, had always treated me sort of like shit telling me that weekend, in condescending tones, how to pronounce Katarzyna’s name correctly while we bought beer in a convenience store. Or maybe it wasn’t condescension, but just the protection of someone who knew I was a day or two away from really hurting her. It’s hard to tell. The first time I met him he walked into the room briskly and declared “tell me something about you.” Which is a dismissive and affronting command that I tried to laugh off, as I thought about the ways gorillas establish dominance. I also thought about how I really didn’t have anything to say about myself, but the first thing that came to mind was to tell him the last thing I had had to eat. After this first meeting, Katarzyna agreed something strange had happened. Feelings that still dwelled? Anger over their breakup?

Katarzyna loved to talk about how beautiful she was and I could see how certain men looked at her. When I look back at the group of characters that I was flung through, I’m trying to guess which one she’ll fuck now. I guess that’s pretty stupid and shallow, but it’s the truth. My money is on Dawid, a photographer/PhD in art, who clearly likes Katarzyna, and who she clearly likes the attention from. Maybe he’s the one.

We also had a dinner with her brother who I had never met before. His boyfriend and he met us at an Italian restaurant where I watched the dynamics of sibling order take over, as Katarzyna turned into a younger sister, with simplified vocabulary and school girl antics. I think the love between siblings has the potential to bring out their deepest insecurities. Maybe it’s because they can’t let their ego swell up in the face of someone that knows them so well.

The breakup talks started the next morning, Sunday, around 1pm after a night in a shitty club, doing some shitty drugs, and having some rough sex that ended up with Katarzyna chipping two teeth. She was into getting slapped and thrown around during sex, but with the teeth grinding invoked by this particular drug, one slap ended with a chipped bottom and top tooth. This now gives us one more thing in common, besides our narcissism and being lovers, as both of my front teeth are chipped due to a night that involved acid, cocaine, a flaccid penis, and a woman intent on fixing this with an extremely eager blowjob (which I could only look down at both with fright and awe while I bit down so hard, that I broke my teeth. This woman, Cleo, was actually someone that I dated after a particularly long relationship, and on this teeth breaking night I had randomly ran into her at a bar and somehow ended up walking back to her place as I explained, “I’m pretty fucked up and definitely can’t get hard.” And she nodded with a sly smile like she knew something I didn’t. But she didn’t know such things. It was like a mall cop standing outside an English football stadium in the throws of a riot and saying, “Don’t worry, I got this.” before bolting into an entrance with too much enthusiasm.)

It’s an interesting connection to notice, because Cleo was the first person to get me into rough sex. Ropes, gags, and pushing the limits of physicality. We met when I didn’t have a room of my own — I was floating around Seattle — and I asked to use my friend Jon’s room for a date night with her. After being tied spread eagle onto his bed, fucked, and hit with a belt, we took a break for drinks, only to have Jon and his girlfriend return to his room. I guess a pro tip here is: don’t leave a bunch of ropes tied to the bed of your friend, with a random belt and a heap of condoms presented almost like gifts at the foot of his bed, when this friend has a very jealous girlfriend. This girlfriend will never talk to you again.

But Katarzyna and I took all that to a whole new level. It’s not a place to unpack here, but she made me reframe what a physical relationship is: the celebration of the independence of two bodies that choose to spend a moment of time together.

Anyway.

The thing about breakups is that both people want to be understood. To be heard, and acknowledged. The problem always is that if you both understood each other perfectly there probably wouldn’t be an issue in the first place; the issue would have been fixed. So the Long Tail of relationships can happen where you mix arguments with breakup sex over and over in the hope of baking the perfect We Both Understand cookie. This cookie doesn’t exist.

An extra piece to the whole thing was that on Sunday around 2 or 3 hours into talking/yelling, Katarzyna’s mom called to say her grandpa had died. This wasn’t out of left-field, he had stopped eating and drinking fluids a week before, but the timing was somewhat absurd. Over drinks the following day Katarzyna jokingly retold the story of our breakup, as if talking to friends, saying “and then my mom called to say my grandpa had died, and he thought, ‘nah, I’ll still break up with her.’” There’s a lot I want to say about her grandfather. But there are only a few snippets that popped into my head when I heard he had passed: he was in the war, his wife was mean to him, he had seen too much. My sister remembered that he had an apartment that looked exactly the same since he moved into it after the war. It was like going back in time. I didn’t remember this, which made me feel very bad.

There was a lot of crying that weekend. From both of us. At a certain point I broke down and wailed like an animal. Katarzyna drew me a bath and lead me to it as I seemed to be overplaying the part of a lobotomized patient. There was a point right before where I thought, “this looks good if I seem to feel this bad.”, but then I realized I actually felt that bad; playing crazy and then realizing no game is actually happening. 

She soaked a scarf in the hot water and draped it on my head. Splashed water on my shoulders and back. She couldn’t help but flick my cock once. That’s one thing: she creeped on my body hard, all the time, and it was the sweetest thing. The next day I was able to return the ritual to her, making her a bath and caressing her as she wept and took deep breaths.

I think she performed the ritual better: my approach felt a bit like applying sunscreen to someones face using only the backs of my hands.

Such strong emotional engagements in bed made for some interesting conflicts between body and mind. Katarzyna would scream or cry, but this look would creep in her eye, and she would excuse herself in an emotional explosion, getting out of bed by pushing off of me, her hand placed fully on my chest, or resting precariously close to my cock. It was like subway creepers “accidently” brushing against strangers. Similarly, I would be talking and holding her, and suddenly be completely hard. We were in middle school, slow dancing; a lot going on with maybe only a 30% conscious understanding of what was happening.

I think as I get older and look at what I have failed to accomplish, it can be hard to hang out with younger people making something of their lives. The whole breakup conversation was made worse by it being lead by a young woman driven and dedicated to a certain path. If I had been coming to awareness of my poor basketball skills while talking to Lebron James, the sensation would be similar.

I cried, and laughed, and fucked, while thinking, “that could be me!” Which is actually a funny sentiment to have with her as the previous year she had thrown me a surprise party where everyone was wearing masks of my face, which I then asked if she could wear during sex. We cut a hole in the mouth and I watched my unblinking face as I blew myself. It felt a little like getting a blowjob from a character in Goldeneye. After I gave myself a facial, she put on one of my sweaters and jumped eagerly onto all fours on my bed, looking over her shoulder. My face peeking over the shoulder of a beautiful young woman’s body, which made me see my normal face as one begging for sex as I tried to put everything together in my head. I couldn’t finish fucking doggy style. It felt like a bit much.

Anyway, I had technically been her at one point in my life. And fucked myself. Which seems very similar to the current situation.

On Monday we woke up late and I think I ate the best pussy of my life. Katarzyna’s entire body became paralyzed and she retreated to a ball and started crying. She was terrified at not being able to move and described something that, to me, sounded like her pussy throwing up all over her body. I’m sure the intense emotional context had a lot to do with it, but I’m going to go ahead and give myself a gold star anyways.

We went out for one last date together. We drank Prossecco and got a seafood platter that reminded me of how I hated seafood platters. It’s a lot of work spread across suspicious flavors; all Mike and Ikes mixed with black licorice that is too salty. But the point is they’re fancy and it seemed like a thing people get on a first date, which maybe are also the perfect things to get on the last date.

I left early the next morning. We lay in bed those final moments and I told her I loved her.  It felt a little like saying hello to say goodbye; Hawaiian customs adapted to a failed relationship. She stood in the apartment’s entry in a kumano. Her body a stripe down the open front. Light switches and door bells seemed to hover around the walls. But the door wasn't a good place to say goodbye, because half of my mind was on the elevator arriving. It did. I entered, and it closed around her body, the building swallowing her up.

I’m still trying really hard to remember exactly the look in her eye. Probably over the years it will be many things.

I turned to look at the mirror in the elevator and my hair looked like shit — I looked like shit — and I thought about how this is exactly as she would remember me.

I thought about two nights before as we both entered the elevator and immediately did the preening checks that most are wont to do in elevator mirrors: the subtle turns of the face and drawing of facial muscles, as we quickly scan the imperfections that we are trying to hide.

I can see her pretty clearly in the mirror at that moment, as stacked layers of a woman seen on a balcony, in a doorway, and through some things in-between that seem hard to put my finger on.