#but it’s entirely self evident and no chance to argue that they do the contrary while democrats always did the truly sound and easily

[hamliet]

Hi! By any chance have you read the novels? If so, what is your favourite and what are your thoughts on team CFVY and on Gill and Jax? Thank you!

Hi! I have, recently in fact!

Firstly, I really, really loved Roman Holiday. It's excellently written, quite thematic, the Jungian symbolism is strong, and it fleshes out both Neo's and Roman's characters in compelling ways. They're highly sympathetic, but not heroes in disguise. The story did a great job of balancing their framing in this. And they were just a delight to read--each had their own voice.

As for the other books, I quite liked Before the Dawn, and After the Fall was okay, but both were more... what I expected? from spin-off light novels as opposed to Roman Holiday, which was again, excellent. I think there is room for another novel, because some of the loose ends of Before the Dawn were not tied up (namely, Gill and Jax, and Lily; plus, some of the characters' arcs weren't completed).

I really liked Sun and Velvet's dynamic in Before the Dawn, and I think I kinda ship them haha. They challenge each other, and unlike everyone else--especially her team, cough cough--when Sun sees Velvet knocked unconscious, he thinks that he doesn't like seeing her looking fragile, that it's not natural to see her look fragile. In other words, he respects her strength.

I also really enjoyed Scarlet's exploration and his romance with Nolan, which works from a thematic and character perspective because getting with the guy who ran and lost his entire team is a good symbol for Scarlet coming to terms with Sun's abandonment, which he starts off the novel very angry about.

What follows is some criticism, mostly of the two "Vacuo/CFVY" novels. Roman Holiday gets a 5/5 from me.

I do NOT understand why the team infantilizes Velvet so much? Like. Was there an event that sparked this? Is it just because she's a faunus I presume, or her semblance, but like... it still feels a little illogical and like a severe overreaction to me.

But as a whole, Team CFVY is... kind of not well done? I'm not talking about the individual characters here, because I love Velvet and quite liked Yatsu and Fox as well, but instead saying that we are told things about the team that the narrative never shows us any reason to believe, yet clearly frames it as "you should believe this." I actually think it's a weak writing point. For example, we're often told that they are on par with Team RWBY and prodigies, except we are never shown this. We're also constantly told Coco is a good leader, and I have yet to see evidence of this. I see a lot of evidence to the contrary, in fact, and though we're told her failures are rare, we never see her really making good leadership choices.

I actually really dislike Coco's character. She reads like "badass self-insert: the character" and is clearly fan pandering and to a degree that is fine, but I'd argue she just isn't well-written. Her backstory about being trauma from being locked in a closet is very on-the-nose as a metaphor--but homophobia isn't really presented as a problem within RWBY's world. So clearly it reads as something designed to wink at fans, which is not itself a problem. Where the problem lies is that I'm left asking "So what?" So... why does this matter? What does this backstory have to do with Coco's character in any way? What is she afraid of facing? What is she locked in emotionally? Clearly it's not the metaphor about being in the closet, because she's a proud lesbian and as mentioned, homophobia's never really been a thing there thank God, so what's the deal with making that her backstory? Thus far, it has no purpose beyond winking at the audience, and that's just not great or deep writing when compared to everyone else's backstories.

But wait, there's more! If Coco is intended to be a vehicle for fans to project onto them, why is she so rude, cocky, and frankly mean? She's just not a nice person. And why is that somehow framed as cool and even admirable in the book, when it's just... not? She doesn't really get called out on her snobbery in the same way, say, Weiss does. I mean you COULD make a meta reason about the fandom in regards to this but I genuinely do not think it's deliberate. I honestly find Coco insufferable.

Lastly, Jax and Gill.

I'm a l'il sensitive and grumpy about twin stuff, so good twin/bad twin was always gonna irk me lol. That said, I do think the idea behind it--kind of enmeshed/codependent relationships--was one that could work, but didn't quite get there.

I also really did not like how the characters--particularly the adults--spoke about Jax. I get that Vacuo has unique views on survival and what makes life worth living but... it really was kinda framed like Jax was just a bad seed from the beginning. You could've at least thrown a couple "hm, wonder why he turned out that way" or other such internal comments from our protagonists if you wanted to frame it critically, but... it wasn't framed critically, which makes it good twin/bad twin and provides a rather simplistic answer that I didn't find satisfying.

[magnetic-rose]

Why Spones is a top-tier ship

AKA “the inherent homoeroticism of annoying the shit out of your co-worker.”

Spock and McCoy have a complicated relationship. A lot of their bickering and ideological differences lead fans to believe that they hate each other, but that’s an over-simplification of the truth. The reality is that Spock and McCoy are extremely close friends who care about each other deeply. Though sometimes their bickering turns serious during stressful situations, for the most time they seem to enjoy the banter. A common mischaracterization of their relationship seems to put McCoy as the bully and Spock as the victim. In truth, there are many times where Spock will say something specifically to get a rise out of McCoy. They fight. That’s how they show affection, not disdain. In fact, one could argue that some of their bantering have a flirtatious tone to it.

Kirk: Mister Spock, regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I assume, felt nothing.

Spock: On the contrary Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.

McCoy: ‘Tis a pity brief blindness didn’t increase your appreciation for beauty, Spock. (Operation -- Annihilate!)

Spock is a half-Vulcan, half-Human who has mostly chosen to follow his Vulcan heritage. As such, he is a being of almost pure logic. The truth about Vulcans are that they are secretly beings who feel things very deeply and intensely, and they feel the need to keep a tight lid on their emotions as to not succumb to them. McCoy, on the other hand, is a regular human. He’s a deeply emotional man who cares about others. One could argue that McCoy is almost too empathetic, as he lets his emotions rule him. Spock and McCoy are polar opposites; the brain and the heart, the logic and the emotion, the super-ego and the id.

Despite these differences, the two men are similar in a lot of ways. They’re both men of science, men of peace, and they both care very deeply for their Captain. They’re both self-sacrificing morons, to the chagrin of the other. Spock will prioritize McCoy’s life even when both of them know it’s not the logical choice to do so. Likewise, McCoy will take a hit for Spock even when they both know the Vulcan is stronger and better equipped to deal with pain than the doctor.

Spock: (In the middle of a blizzard) In this severe cold, we cannot survive much longer.

McCoy: Leave me here, Spock.

Spock: We go together or not at all.

McCoy: Don’t be a fool. My hands and face are frostbitten. I can’t feel my feet. Alone, you have a chance. Now do what I say. Go try to find Jim.

Spock: We go together! (All of Yesterdays)

In the episode, “The Empath,” Kirk, Spock and McCoy have to choose someone to be offered as sacrifice to be tortured by a group of aliens. Kirk obviously volunteers, but gets put to sleep by McCoy with a tranquilizer. Spock then states that he’ll offer himself up, as he has the higher chance of surviving the torture. McCoy then proceeds to sedate Spock as well, and sacrifices himself to be tortured by the aliens.

Spock: While the captain is asleep, I am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them.

McCoy: You mean, if I hadn't given him that shot

Spock: Precisely. The choice would have been the captain's. Now it is mine.

(McCoy turns away. Spock sits to carry on working. Gem puts her hand on Spock's shoulder, and smiles. McCoy comes up behind him and gives him an injection.)

Spock: Your action is highly unethical. My decision stands. (Spock falls asleep next to Kirk.)

McCoy: Not this time, Spock.

Underneath all the fighting and disagreements, there is a deep caring between Spock and McCoy that manifests itself into protectiveness towards each other. In “All of Yesterdays,” Spock is constantly showing concern for McCoy after he almost died of hypothermia. In aftermath of McCoy’s torture in “The Empath,” Spock is seen hovering over his body and caressing his face, worry written into his features. On the other hand, while McCoy constantly makes fun of Spock for his lack of emotions, he’s also highly aware of the Vulcan’s mental state and protective of it when others threaten to shatter his resilience.

McCoy: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him.

Philana: You must be joking, Doctor.

McCoy: You'll destroy him.

Parmen: We can't let him die laughing, can we?

McCoy: (Watching as Spock starts to cry) I beg you! (Plato’s Stepchildren)

The episode “Amok Time” also demonstrates McCoy’s perceptiveness of Spock and Spock’s true feelings of friendship towards McCoy. McCoy is in fact the first person to notice that something is wrong with Spock:

McCoy: Oh, captain. Got a minute? It's Spock. Have you noticed anything strange about him?

Kirk: No, nothing in particular. Why ?

McCoy: Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's become increasingly restive. If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say nervous. And for another thing, he's avoiding food. I checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.

Kirk: That just sounds like Mister Spock in one of his contemplative phases.

Kirk doesn’t notice anything wrong with Spock, and initially dismisses McCoy’s concern, but McCoy immediately picked up on Spock’s mental turmoil. Despite his cantankerousness, McCoy not only cares about Spock but goes out of his way to look out for his mental state. Part of it might be because he’s his doctor, but how many doctors go so far as to monitor someone’s eating habits because they notice that person’s suddenly being fidgety? On Spock’s end, when it comes time for him to beam down to Vulcan to complete his marriage ceremony, he specifically asks for McCoy to be there:

Spock: By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends.

Kirk: Thank you, Mister Spock.

Spock: I also request McCoy accompany me.

McCoy: I shall be honoured, sir.

One episode I find extremely fascinating in terms of McCoy/Spock moments is “Mirror, Mirror.” In this famous episode, half of the Enterprise crew get transported into an alternate universe dubbed The Mirror Verse, in which evil versions of the characters exist and terrorize space as a fearsome military force. McCoy is part of the team that gets transported in the Mirror Verse, while Spock stays in their regular universe. Mirror Spock immediately realizes that half of the crew, including Kirk and McCoy, are acting strangely. When he corners Kirk to question him, he does so by threatening McCoy: “I shall not waste time with you. You’re too inflexible, too disciplined, once you’ve made up your mind. But Doctor McCoy has a plenitude of human weaknesses, sentimental, soft. You may not tell me what I want to know, but he will.” This Spock seems to have a intimate knowledge of McCoy’s mind.  When the party decides to attack Mirror Spock, he fights all of them except for Uhura and McCoy, who he simply pushes out of harm’s way.

When Mirror Spock gets hurt as the crew is trying to escape back to their own universe, McCoy is suddenly unable to leave his side. Kirk allows him to stay to nurse Spock back to health, and McCoy risks almost staying in the Mirror Verse forever for him. When Mirror Spock awakes, he backs McCoy into a wall and initiates a forced mind meld onto the doctor. The next scene has Mirror Spock holding a disoriented McCoy up and bringing him back to his crew; he now understands what is happening and he wants his regular crew back, and thus he allows Kirk and company to make the switch back to their own universe.

Other Star Trek properties have gone more in depth on how a forced mind meld can be extremely traumatizing on the person receiving it. Star Trek: Enterprise has an entire story arc dedicated to the Vulcan T’Pol trying to heal from a forced mind meld. Unfortunately, because the nature of TOS episodes were episodic, we never got the chance to explore the emotional fallout of McCoy’s forced mind meld and how that might have affected his relationship with Spock. The franchise also never went in depth on Mirror McCoy outside of what Mirror Spock speaks of him, since Mirror McCoy died of xenopolycythemia in 2269.

Closing the list of evidence of Spock and McCoy’s affections towards each other are the Star Trek movies “The Wrath of Khan” and “The Search for Spock.” Towards the end of Wrath of Khan, Spock sacrifices himself to save The Enterprise in one of the franchises most heart-wrenching scenes. Moments before his sacrifice, he knocks McCoy unconscious, touches his face and whispers “remember.” What happened in this scene was that Spock, knowing he was about to die, transferred his Katra to McCoy. The katra being the Vulcan equivalent of a soul. This speaks to the amount of trust that Spock has in McCoy. For someone who keeps most of his emotions under a tight lid, it’s a huge gesture to entrust another with the essence of their entire being. The next movie, The Search for Spock, is a journey as the Enterprise crew fight to return to Vulcan so they can reunite Spock with his body. When they finally arrive, the Vulcans warn McCoy that the process is extremely dangerous and could even result in his death. McCoy calmly replies that he “chooses the danger.” He cannot fathom living his life without Spock.

McCoy: (Speaking to Spock) I'm going to tell you something that I... I never thought I'd hear myself say...But it seems I've missed you. I don't know if I could stand to lose you again.

So in conclusion, Spock and McCoy have a rich and complex relationship that is much more than simply just “they dislike each other because they bicker a lot.” Their bickering is more akin to that of an old married couple. There are plenty of examples not even included in this post of how deeply they care for each other. Despite their ideological differences, they balance each other out quite nicely. McCoy is finely attuned to Spock’s emotions, arguably better than anyone else on the ship. Spock in turn is protective and gentle with McCoy. Once you stop looking at their interactions solely on the surface level, you’ll be able to see the tenderness and years of love and friendship between them. This is why I think Spock/McCoy is one of the most underrated and misunderstood relationships of TOS. Don’t let the constant arguing fool you into believing these two dummies don’t adore each other.

Shout-out to Tempest for their extremely lengthy ship manifesto on Spones called “Spiced Peaches,” which goes even more in depth on why Spones is a great couple. Using their manifesto as a reference was key to remembering Spock/McCoy moments. Also shout-out to the site chakoteya for having full transcripts of TOS episodes, so I could easily find quotes for this. If you’ve come this far, thanks for reading!

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

1.4

It was impossible to sit.

Jane suddenly realized that this must have been how Weller felt earlier that day, when they'd been stuck in the CDC lab during the lockdown.

There was something wrong; she could feel it in her gut.

"I still think one of us should have stayed with him," she muttered.

Reade rolled his eyes and glanced at Zapata, sharing a look with her before replying.

"Weller's fine, the doc brought him a suit. And he's the one that made us leave, remember?"

"Yeah, Weller can take care of himself," Zapata added.

However, neither comment toned down the anxiety coursing up and down Jane's spine. Nor did it help to tell herself that she was just overreacting to being separated from him. Her nerves remained taut, no matter what she tried.

So when Zapata's phone rang and it was Patterson, Jane didn't need to hear more than one line of the conversation before she was out of her seat and sprinting back into the cruise terminal, blatantly ignoring Reade, who was hollering at her to stop.

When she charged in, Weller was on the ground and the doctor was moving towards the bioweapon. Jane leapt over a set of seats and cut the doctor off, then easily took him down with a hard punch to elbow combo before finishing him off with a stomp to the head.

By that time Weller was back on his feet and staring at her. She couldn't quite read his expression through the plastic window of the hazmat suit, but he didn't seem entirely pleased as he approached to check that the doctor wasn't going anywhere.

As soon as he was sure the criminal was secure for the moment, Weller stood in front of her; and this time Jane could easily see that he was frowning as he began to spray out reprimands.

"What were you thinking? I told you to stay out of here. You aren't even in a suit! He could have already set off the device."

Jane sighed, willing herself not to roll her eyes. But her adrenaline was still firing from running onto the scene, full of fear for Weller. So it was hard not to yell back at him, especially since she'd likely just saved him from a horrible death.

"He was going to infect you with a deadly disease, Weller," she argued.

"Exactly. And you ran straight into it without protection!" he hollered, so heatedly that the mask of his hazmat suit steamed up.

Jane shook her head at his obstinate refusal to understand that he'd been the one in danger and she couldn't let anything bad happen to him. Losing Weller just after finding out who she was and her connection to him would be devastating to the extreme. Especially if it was due to one of her tattoos - if it was her fault.

Luckily, just then Reade and Zapata came running into the terminal with hazmat suits on and diverted Weller's attention, so he started yelling at them instead.

"At least you two had the sense to put suits on before coming in," he huffed. "How the hell did you let her come back in here on her own?"

Zapata flashed Reade a look and Jane could see that neither of them bothered to hide their nearly synchronized eye flips at their boss.

"Yeah, like she asked us before flying out the door?" Reade commented

"Sorry boss, she was gone before we even knew anything was up," Zapata added.

Weller was still steaming up his yellow suit but his agents didn't seem particularly concerned about his anger. Instead, they had obviously learned how to best avoid his ire by reminding him of the facts and then stepping aside as he raged.

"You want her to come out into the field, this is what you're going to get," Reade stated.

"She's a wildcard."

"And it looks like she was just in time," Zapata chimed in, eyeing how close the canister was from the unconscious doctor.

"So it's a good thing she didn't suit up first."

Weller scowled but refrained from shouting more, instead just telling Zapata and Reade to cuff the prisoner and secure the rest of the scene. Then he turned his attention back to Jane, just as a hazmat team arrived with more agents in tow.

Jane's heart was still pumping too fast but it wasn't because of adrenaline anymore. She hadn't thought Weller would be so mad at what she'd done and felt bad getting Reade and Zapata yelled at for her actions. Then again, she wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing again, despite the consequences.

Weller's blue eyes still flashed with intensity; even from behind the protective suit. Jane felt her shoulders tighten, sure she was about to get shouted at again.

But instead, he just stood there in front of her, silently studying her for a long moment while wearing a stern grimace. Jane's stomach began to curdle under his gaze and she prepared the only defense she had – whatever she'd done was worth it, because he was still alive.

When Weller finally spoke, his tone remained gruff but all the fire was gone.

"Thank you," he said, his voice tight with an emotion she couldn't quite identify.

"Now go get your bloodwork done. We'll talk about this later."

He was clearly still upset but at least he wasn't filled with fury anymore. Hopefully that meant he'd have a different perspective on her actions once he'd had a chance to cool off even more; because he was going to have to get used to it.

He might think of her as his to protect, but Jane knew the opposite was equally true. She'd only just found him. The boy next door, full of self blame. The guilt-ridden man who'd never given up, who'd searched his whole life for her. And she wasn't going to let anyone take him from her.

###

Weller left Patterson's lab with his heart and his head locked in battle.

What Patterson had just told him about Jane's tooth was impossible if she was really Taylor. Which they'd also proven without a doubt with the DNA test.

The contradictory pieces of information bounced around his head as Weller tried to think of some way both facts could be true. But there just wasn't any possible way that Jane was both Taylor and had also grown up in sub-Saharan Africa. So his brain kept saying that it was one or the other - that one of the tests had to be wrong. And it was crystal clear which one his heart wanted to be true, though he would never admit it, even to himself.

Weller found himself walking back past the room where Jane had been reading the article about Taylor's disappearance, even though he knew he should keep some distance while he figured out how Patterson's new information fit into everything. It was as if her presence was tugging at at him magnetically, despite the best intentions of his rational mind.

She was still there, studying another article from the same time period that probably contained the same few facts about the case. Weller thought about how he could tell her so much more than any of those articles could, then flashed back to what Borden had said that morning. He was supposed to talk to Jane about his memories of Taylor. So, his desire was even officially condoned, though Kurt knew his intent was not strictly investigative.

As his eyes settled over her, Weller felt flush with warmth. She had to be Taylor. He was just so sure of it. There was no other way to explain the way he felt when she was around, and it had been like that since before the DNA test had even confirmed her identity.

A tiny voice inside him tried to remind him of the basics of investigation; telling him that the isotope information indicating a childhood in Africa might spur some memories in Jane. But they'd only just confirmed that she was Taylor and she hadn't even had a chance to wrap her head around that idea. So Weller didn't want to throw such contrary evidence at her right away, when she finally had something firm to hold on to.

He missed his chance to slip by when Jane looked up from the computer screen and caught him staring. Or maybe he'd just been waiting for an excuse to go in.

"What did Patterson want?" Jane asked as he entered the room.

Dammit. He hadn't decided what to do on that issue yet and of course she'd brought it up right away. Jane was perceptive as hell too, which had both impressed him and caused him a lot of strife already. So Weller didn't want to lie, especially after already withholding information from her previously. But he also didn't want to introduce evidence contradicting the DNA test result until he was sure this isotope thing was as legitimate as Patterson had said. Especially when Jane was clearly clinging to the one concrete fact they'd been able to offer her.

"I'll tell you another time," Weller replied, with full intent to do so eventually - just not right then, when things were so fragile.

"It's late and you've already got a lot to think about."

Jane seemed skeptical as he approached and sat down next to her. But, surprisingly, she didn't argue, instead giving him with a long look that he couldn't read.

"Do you have any more questions?" he asked, mostly to break the intensity of the silence.

Jane narrowed her eyes at him, as if seriously considering what he'd asked. Then she raised her thumb to her mouth and chewed on her fingernail as her expression became somewhat timid.

"Yeah," she finally replied. "Are you okay?"

It was not at all what he'd expected and threw his heart for a complete loop.

There were so many sides to her, all of them equally captivating.

Weller flashed back to Jane leaping into the cruise terminal, risking exposure to a deadly disease in order to save him. That fierce force was now cautiously asking after his well-being, even though she was the one who'd had her entire life stolen away.

"I'm fine," he frowned. "What do you mean?"

She was gazing at him a bit longingly, in that way that made his insides seize right up; her green tinted eyes shining into him with a mix of innocence and empathy.

"I just don't want to be making things hard for you," she said.

Weller's frown deepened as he wondered what she could be talking about. Even though her case had been emotional for him, she was the one that had been thrust into a traumatic situation that just kept getting more complicated. He hoped he hadn't been putting his own feelings too far out there, even though it was hard to maintain his usual firm boundaries when Jane was around. After all, it was up to him to look out for her, not the other way around.

"Did Reade say something?" he asked, remembering how they were the last two to get their bloodwork done.

Jane hesitated and flashed her eyes away for a moment before looking back at him and responding.

"No, but I overheard you in the locker room this morning. And I think I keep asking you the wrong questions."

Not the wrong ones, he thought. Just the ones that hit deepest.

"Any issues Reade has with me has nothing to do with you. I know it might not seem like that but it's true. And anyways, today more than proved that you need to be with us in the field. You're integral to this investigation."

That was the easy part, the obvious truth as far as he was concerned.

The other part though, that was something he couldn't explain. The way she so easily touched on his hurts without meaning to, as if he hadn't been constructing a barrier all his life. His father, the self-blame that had followed him since he was a child. Nearly everything about her was still a complete unknown; yet she could see him so clearly.

"And um. I guess I'm just not used to talking about this all," Weller explained.

"Which obviously isn't your fault. But it's… a lot. I know it has to be hard for you too."

Jane's slightly nervous expression turned more hopeful, with a little uptick of her lip and a raise of her eyebrows as she nodded at his words.

"Yeah, I just don't understand any of it. What happened to me after I was taken?" she asked. "Where have I been for the last twenty-five years?"

"I just hope I remember something," she added. "What if I don't ever remember anything else?"

"Jane, it's okay. You're going to have more memories," Weller said, sensing that she was tipping over into her anxiety.

He found himself putting his hand between her shoulder blades, trying to ground her with his presence as Jane fought to reel her emotions in. So much had happened to her in such a short amount of time, it was no wonder she was so full of questions. In a way, her being Taylor only made things more complicated and added pressure to her situation.

For another second his mind went back to what Patterson had told him, and again Kurt told himself that he didn't want to take the one solid thing Jane had to hold onto at the moment. He would tell her about it later, not when she already had so much to adjust to.

Part of him recognized that he just didn't want to burst his own bubble, not when he was so goddamned happy to have her back. It was unbelievable to suddenly have the weight of lifetime come off his shoulders. And for her to be so gorgeous and compelling – well, it was nearly too perfect.

"Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?"

The question leapt out of his mouth without passing through his usual mental filter, then sat there between them as Jane gave him a puzzled look.

"No pressure, just say no if it's too soon. But I told Sarah about finding you and she really wanted to meet you. Sawyer will be there too. Maybe it'll help bring back some memories if we talk about when we were kids," he stammered, trying to make the whole thing sound less like date.

At least his impromptu offer had momentarily distracted Jane from her worries, as she was obviously trying to not grin at his awkward display. Her eyes even twinkled a little with amusement as she tested his patience and remained quiet for far too long before answering.

Weller was already trying to think of a way to backpedal his way out of his offer when Jane finally took pity on him and replied.

"That sounds great," she said, flashing him a small smile. "I'd like to meet them both."

Relief flooded over him in a way that made Kurt feel like a teenager again. He hadn't been that tense about anything in a long time, even though he kept reminding himself that it was definitely not a date.

Yet Weller couldn't deny that his heart did another flip when he thought about it again.

He'd found her and she was incredible. And she was coming over for dinner.

[warwaged-archive]

Morrigan and dynamic of the others in the origins camp pLEASE. Asking for dynamic reasons when I make you that surprise Leliana starter

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE MUSES // always accepting.

you’re valid and also thank you for giving me the chance to talk about it ily mel

SO LET’S GO

this will probably be so long rip

Contrary to popular opinion Alistair is not the one she likes the least. She pokes at him more than she tends to poke at the others, yes, but honestly this is more evidence that he really isn’t the worst of them in her opinion; the ones she really doesn’t like, she tries to keep away from entirely (and we’ll get to those). Alistair, like Leliana, is not really the sort of person she’d be really amenable to, not only because of their ties to the Chantry (and they weight heavily on her initial views of both of them) but because Morrigan is not sympathetic to most other people at all at first. She has a very ‘survival of the fittest’ mindset, that combined with her certainty she has to look out for herself and herself alone really brings her to clash with Alistair in that he’s a lot more compassionate and caring. On top of that, Alistair is suspicious of her from the beginning, and Morrigan doesn’t really appreciate having to deal with that; and that’s without mentioning that after so long living in the Wilds, Morrigan is prone to attacking as defense. They’re both pretty mean towards each other as a result, specially at first, and their interactions are often antagonistic. 

In spite of that, Morrigan and Alistair exchange lots of questions about each other’s previous lives and upbringings if only because they don’t care to be nice and are deliberately prodding even when subjects might be sensitive (still, it is a lot more than there is between her and some of the others, both in regards to her asking about them and in speaking of herself, even if she often avoids answering his questions). Given time, I do think Morrigan begins to see him in a friendlier light (which does not mean she is friendly, but rather that she’s not indifferent or that she hates him). By the time you go with Alistair to see Goldanna, for example, I personally take Morrigan’s answer to it to show that she actually cares a bit (she’s all like wtf Alistair you let her treat you like that?! you even helped her??? you know she won’t appreciate anything you do for her right???) because if she didn’t, Morrigan would very easily use a tone that was more that’s what you get for being an idiot who helps people, got what you deserved while her actual initial reaction is to be outraged because Alistair wanted to help someone who clearly didn’t value him or anything he might do. So yeah! tldr, in spite of how antagonistic they are towards each other, specially at first, and although she never entirely stops being mean to him, Morrigan grows to care for Alistair somewhat, in her way.

Leliana, like I said, is another one she begins being particularly unfriendly towards. Leliana’s introduction to their still small group is very tied to the Chantry and her belief the Maker set her on that path; and obviously, Morrigan is very much anti-Chantry and she doesn’t believe in the Maker at all, neither does she care for Andraste. Morrigan expects Chantry people to look down on her or consider her a threat or both; so her answer to that is to attack first. Leliana is pretty okay towards her on many of their conversations and Morrigan just cuts her off by being mean. Even beyond the Chantry relation, Leliana tells nice stories and try to talk about good things and look at things positively and Morrigan is not there for that (which sometimes is more of an emotional reaction than it seems, and which I think their conversation about mothers highlights in a nice way; she has no tales of nice things to share, and when she speaks of Flemeth and Leliana is like “oh... I see” Morrigan replies that she really doesn’t, which evidences Morrigan’s general treatment of Leliana at first and what causes that reaction: she doesn’t think Leliana can even understand where she’s coming from at all, and she doesn’t think Leliana cares to even try because her thing is pretty stories and holy powers and moral superiority which are things that don’t agree with Morrigan at all).

 What she expects of Leliana at first is that she’ll act self-righteous and hypocritical; and she doesn’t really hold back from calling Leliana hypocritical when they all learn about Leliana’s past. That said, I think it would be from then on Morrigan would be less antagonistic towards her, or at least that she wouldn’t be so intent on simply cutting her off by being mean. Maybe it is because from then on she is able to see Leliana more like an actual person and less of a façade (because Morrigan does not believe the Chantry and its followers to be genuinely good and righteous as they would have others believe they are). Much like with Alistair, I also think they have one conversation that points at a much better relationship than where they started (the one about the dress! even though Morrigan is all aboslutely not!!! she never tries to cut Leliana off by being harsh and outright nasty as she is on other occasions). Towards her, rather than poking, Morrigan was initially very brusque towards, seeking to end conversations rather than provoking; but as she grows more amenable to Leliana, I can see that changing, and Morrigan getting to approach her and making questions of her own (as well as provoking her on occasion because she gotta be a little mean and poke a bit you know aksndkjsndf). Specially after they learn about Leliana being a bard, Morrigan tends to initiate conversations a lot more; she’s not exactly nice a lot of the time, but neither is she just trying to be purposefully mean to cut off conversations unless they turn to subjects she doesn’t care to discuss. 

Oghren can die she doesn’t care. Maybe she’ll even help. If they never meet again after DAO it won’t be enough time. It starts with her wanting him to stay away from her and it just never changes. She wants nothing to do with him ever thanks

Morrigan begins with not being friendly towards mostly everyone, really. Wynne is another case of when this doesn’t really change throughout their journey. They clash very fundamentally on their stances about mages, and Morrigan does not hold back from demeaning mages that defend the circle. Wynne’s attempts to “help” or “guide” or assume in any way a mentoring role towards her are promptly shut down because Morrigan doesn’t think she needs that (she’s very much capable of taking care of herself thank you very much), much less from someone who spent her whole life glad to be imprisoned in a tower. There is one moment in which they’re less antagonistic towards each other, which is by the end of their discussion about the Circle. It is the one time Morrigan starts that conversation, and the one she shows some willingness in talking about herself to Wynne, though she gives no details; and Wynne takes the opportunity to try to present her side of the argument in a different light. 

Even though Morrigan hears then, I don’t think she ever grew to be really friendly or to care for Wynne particularly. With them, the one moment that might show some sort of friendship-ness seems less like that to me, and more like Morrigan giving in to having someone older who did try to place herself in a position to offer guidance of sorts (if only because it’s such different guidance from that which Morrigan had before, and the particular topic they discuss is one that brings to surface some of Morrigan’s vulnerabilities, with their discussing her previous contacts with civilization, and how she ventured out on her own). In DAO Morrigan is still pretty young, and she has very very little experience with other people, and I think this is one of the moments where that just weighs a lot; she thinks she has to defend herself by arguing she was not always under other people’s protection, and she ends up being more open than usual because when it comes to her experience outside the Wilds, well, she doesn’t really have much experience at all and their conversation also suggests fear on her part where interacting with ‘the world of men’ is concerned. So it’s more one moment than a shift in their relationship in truth, I think.

She doesn’t trust Zevran, at first, but she doesn’t hate him. She’s not even particularly antagonistic towards him? Just suspicious with how he joins the group by attempting assassination and all asdkfnafn But she’s clearly very curious and makes lots of questions about the Crows. I think after enough time has passed it’s clear Zevran is not just waiting to kill them all, she’s pretty chill towards him. With time, he’d probably also be one of those she grew to care about somewhat, in her way. It’s just a lot easier for her to get along with people when they don’t seek a moral high ground (and she doesn’t presume they will, as with anyone tied to the Chantry), and with people that clearly had to deal with life in a way that she sees as more similar to her own experience. Also when people have similar stances in regards to freedom (which Zevran seems to have, given he tells her it is a fate worse than death to not choose who you serve) and generally speaking, value strength and don’t care as much to Do Things Because They Are Considered Right (specially when “right” is defined by very Andrastian views). So yeah! She’s mostly ok with Zev, as far as ok applies for DAO Morrigan.

Shale doesn’t like her, Morrigan more returns the sentiment than starts it. But in spite of that, I’d say she’s. Not okay, but not bad. Just there. Morrigan doesn’t care much either way. It’s by no means like Oghren, who she seriously despises; Morrigan doesn’t mind her presence, but neither does she welcome it. She’s pretty neutral about Shale.

Sten is fun because he works the opposite way of most of the others, in that she begins being a lot more friendly-ish towards him but that doesn’t necessarily get better with time, quite the contrary. I think she’d want to learn about the Qunari, and that regardless, she’s more prone to feel some sense of kinship towards those who are not Fereldan nor Andrastian. He has zero sense of humor and so she obviously finds it very amusing to provoke him; but at the same time, when it comes to more serious subjects, Morrigan objects heavily to his worldview (specially towards mages and women). I think the only reason why it never grows to be an actually antagonistic relationship is purely because they never really discuss that; for the most part it’s a very superficial relationship in the sense there’s no really getting to know each other, even given time, and it sort of just stays like that.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

It’s All About The Game- Part 1

Freshman Year

Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction (basketball, man!)

Warnings: None (at least for this part)

Word Count: Almost 13,000

Summary: Kayda Reynolds is an introverted and highly intelligent student who has trouble making friends and prefers a quiet existence amongst her classmates. However, her life is about to become a lot more interesting when she accidentally captures the attention of her high school’s all-star basketball player, Seo Changbin.

Notes: My new series is officially here! Just for the record, I am indeed mostly competent because I totally forgot how driving laws work (as in, I’m in college now and I can’t remember the process I underwent to get my learner’s permit/license)... There might be some disparities but they don’t really affect the story itself. 

Freshman Year 

August

My first impression of Seo Changbin was incredibly unfavorable. The school’s all-star basketball player was extremely arrogant, egotistical, conceited to the point where he couldn’t see past his own obnoxiously handsome countenance, and terribly unlikeable. This might be difficult to concede when you consider the masses of students who follow him around like he’s some sort of bonafide celebrity. But I knew it had more to do with his handsome looks and wealthy upbringing as opposed to some sort of appealing personality. 

In fact, everything about Seo Changbin screamed expensive from the brand name Velour pants he insisted on wearing to the unnecessary Dior sunglasses perched attractively on the brim of his nose. The thought of paying more than a dollar or two for a decent pair of glasses was practically haunting for someone who was lucky to eat out once a month. But I’m sure Seo Changbin got whatever he wanted because his family was able to afford the finer luxuries in life courtesy of their pompous real estate business. 

Of course, I want to firmly establish that I am in no way jealous of Seo Changbin. On the contrary, I feel sorry for someone who can’t even realize that their popularity stems from the most materialistic means possible. I mean, he’s a good basketball player, and I’ve heard rumors that the men’s Varsity coach was heavily scouting him. But, as a basketball player myself, that’s the extent of the compliments I would ever allow.

And I remember the first time I ever met Seo Changbin because he had just transferred to our middle school. Everyone was talking about him, and I was curious myself because I had never seen any of my classmates so excited to welcome a potential transfer. But on the first day of tryouts, when the girls and boys were forced to share the gym together, I figured out why the others wouldn’t stop talking about the mysterious boy.

You see, Seo Changbin might be contemptuous, but not without due cause. The young athlete was an outstanding ballplayer, moving up and down the court with impossible speed. He could shoot from every point on the floor and held some sort of record for most steals in a single game. It was intimidating, to say the least, and I finally understood why everyone was so enamored.

I remember watching Changbin from afar while the rest of us ran through our drills. And I, of course, didn’t know him very well, so my naive adolescent self was not aware of the nasty attitude hiding beneath that impressive talent. But it would be the first and last time I ever made that mistake.

“Let’s scrimmage the boys,” our coach had randomly suggested to which we all groaned in complaint. “It’ll be good for you,” she insisted, blatantly ignoring our protests.

“It’s embarrassing,” one of our players whined. The poor girl had a crush on one of the more popular members of the boy’s team, an impeccable shooting guard who hardly ever missed a point.

Regardless of our input, both coaches made the arrangement and I found myself bringing the ball up the court while staring down the school’s newest recruit. Now, I don’t want to sound self-deprecating, but sixth grade was not my shining year as a basketball player. I had only started playing the year before and, despite my substantial progress, I wasn’t very good. But nothing could be more demeaning than repeatedly finding yourself on the receiving end of Seo Changbin’s impeccable ability to steal the ball from right under your hands, leaving you behind in the dust as he coasted the court to score countless layups because of your incompetence. Not to mention the one time I attempted to block his layup and the arrogant asshole left me lying on my ass after lowering his shoulder (which was, and still is, heavily illegal) to make a shot.

After that practice ended, I quickly left the gym before any of those horrible boys had the chance to mock me for my failed efforts. And from that day on, I worked relentlessly to become a better player, fixing my fundamentals and building a steady foundation to improve my abilities as a point guard. Nevertheless, the humiliation stayed with me, providing a haunting presence every time I messed up during a game and watched a rival player steal the ball or block my shots.

And it might not be fair to blame Changbin since he was just playing the game, and I initially gave him the benefit of the doubt, but he proved just how despicable he was the following day at school. You see, I can recall standing at my locker to exchange textbooks, mindlessly occupied with an assignment weighing heavily on my subconscious. Suddenly, without any sort of warning, the devil himself slammed my locker shut, leaning against the wall while wearing an evil smirk. “Did you enjoy getting your ass kicked yesterday?” the newcomer taunted me, glancing back at his new friends who laughed at the comment.

I attempted to ignore him, re-trying my combination, but Changbin simply pressed his hand against the door. “I asked you a question.”

I let out a tired sigh. “Please don’t.”

Changbin sneered and I knew I had made a fatal error by not walking away when the opportunity had first presented itself. “Don’t what? Were you expecting me to hold your hand? Lead you down the court and stand aside so you might make a shot?”

A crowd had gathered around us. “How the hell did you even make the basketball team in the first place?”

My face was an unpleasant shade of red. “I don’t think you’re qualified to ignore me. Don’t you know who I am?”

Just walk away, I repeatedly chanted to myself as I let out a deep exhale. Changbin roughly grabbed my arm, ignoring my protests. “Do us all a favor and quit before you embarrass the entire school.”

The sounds of my classmates’ laughter followed me all the way to the front office where I feigned a headache. My mother came to pick me up from school later, attributing my tears to my non-existent ailment, driving me home in the backseat of our minivan so that I could cry alone in the solitude of my bedroom.

Throughout the remainder of middle school, I suffered under an endless barrage of torment from Changbin. By the time my eighth grade year had arrived, most of my classmates seemed to understand that I was Changbin’s little punching toy, standing aside as they observed our encounters. A display of teasing that only I was forced to endure because Changbin never really bothered anyone else in the same way.  

I was fed up with everything and everyone, including my bitchy teammates who often complained about extra workouts. Or, in the case of one glorious spring evening, being forced to scrimmage the men’s team yet again. Because, apparently, that was just the worst thing that could ever possibly happen.

“Against the boys?” Lucy cried, our starting forward desperate to change our coach’s mind.

But she was stoic. “It will help me see where we need to improve before the next game.”

I nodded my agreement, vacantly paying attention as I eyed the gathered boy’s team warming up on the opposite end of the court. They were all standing around Seo Changbin like the useless droids they were, obedient to their master. How could anyone be so subservient? 

And I could easily recall the last time Changbin and I had scrimmaged one another. It was impossible to forget because of the tragic conclusion, marking the starting point of his teasing I received on a daily basis. Perhaps anyone would shy away from the possibility of enduring that mortification once again.

However, this time I was determined, and our coach was surprised when I requested to guard Seo Changbin. “He’s the best player,” she argued half-heartedly since nobody on my team was really capable of defending him.

“I can manage,” I told her with a nod.

Which is why, after the game began, I carefully approached Changbin as he dribbled down the court in my direction, studying him with rapt attention. Almost immediately I determined that he favored his right hand, which wasn’t uncommon in young point guards. So I forced him to go left, detecting weakness in the slight fumble to his rhythm.

For the remainder of the first quarter, I kept my distance from Changbin, mostly going through the motions as I made mental notes of where I might take advantage. I was rather good at that sort of thing, studying my opponents with far more attention than most people allow. But everyone had a weakness, including Seo Changbin.

It had happened a few minutes into the second quarter. One moment, Changbin was confidently calling out a play while mindlessly dribbling at the top of the key, when at the next, his jaw was practically touching the floor as I swiped the ball right out of his hands. I hustled to the opposite goal, easily managing a perfectly executed layup while my teammates, for once, cheered me on from the sidelines. Changbin’s eyes were wide with wonder when I marched over to poke him in the center of his chest. “I don’t mess around, Seo.”

He leaned in closer, amusement evident in his countenance. “Game on, Reynolds.”

September

Leaving for school in the morning was always a dramatic affair, especially since I was forced to ride with an older neighbor who clearly despised the arrangement. However, considering the numerous benefits my parents offered, including free transportation courtesy of the Honda my father bought for me, I could tell she was reluctantly grateful. And since I was still too young to qualify for my learner’s permit, I was forced to rely on someone else to avoid the dreaded bus system.

Unfortunately, there were always other drivers to worry about: a chaotic mixture of adults racing to get to their boring office jobs on time while adolescent teenagers disregarded speed limits signs because they decided to sleep past their alarms. I was one of the few who chose to leave later simply because I didn’t appreciate the hassle of having to talk to other people before classes started. Instead, I liked to show up moments before the first bell rang, finding my desk at the front of my homeroom class for mandatory attendance.

However, despite the apprehensive task of minding other inconsiderate idiots on the road, I had grown complacent on my morning commute. After all, as long as my mostly indifferent neighbor paid close enough attention, we could usually keep ourselves out of any possible trouble. Of course, for this morning in particular, I suppose we had done our absolute best but some people are impossible to predict.

As soon as the initial stupor of being rear-ended faded away, I shot out of the car and immediately paced around to the back, groaning when I realized the idiot driver behind us had destroyed my bumper. I carefully fought back tears, hating the idea of having to call my parents and tell them the Honda was a total wreck. But what else could I do when my car looked like it had seen its final moments?

“Reynolds?”

I swallowed hard as I turned to meet the amused gaze of Seo Changbin, AKA the idiot driver who had successfully ruined my morning. And the only person who still insisted on calling me by my last name like he had done since the sixth grade. “Of course,” I grumbled, watching him as he approached with way too much swagger in his gait.

“You ruined my new paint job!” Changbin exclaimed, ignoring his obviously pissed off passenger who was currently cursing at my incensed neighbor.

“Is that really the problem?” I questioned, studying the arrogant boy with clear disdain, compliments of years of withheld hostility.

“What the hell, Reynolds?” Changbin spat at me, kneeling down to observe the ruined front end of his expensive Corvette.

“You ran into us!” I protested, fumbling with my cellphone as I tried to call the emergency number. “How did you even get a learner’s permit?”

Changbin’s eyes widened when he realized what I was doing, reaching over to cover my phone screen with his hand. “You don’t need to do that, Reynolds, I can just write you a check.”

I frowned as he reached into the front seat of his car, grabbing a pen and his book. “How much do you want? It’s probably an old model anyway, it shouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred dollars. Maybe you can invest in a newer car and get rid of this piece of shit.”

I let out a ragged sigh.

In hindsight, I suppose it might have been better if I had just simply allowed Changbin to write me a check. After all, I could have probably swindled the idiot into writing me more than what the damage was worth. But something inside of me had finally cracked, breaking down every wall I had attempted to build around the insults he taunted me with through the hallways, the arrogant comments he threw my way during basketball practices, and the never-ending attempts to get a rise out of me. So, for this incident, in particular, I wasn’t prepared to passively accept whatever he thought his arrogant ass could get away with. I was fed up with Seo Changbin and everything that he stood for. Perhaps this was my chance to finally prove a point, and I was willing to take complete advantage.

“You asshole,” I gritted out, harshly shoving against an unsuspecting Changbin who actually stumbled back from my unexpected attack. “I don’t want your filthy money! My car was just fine before you decided to text on your iPhone and smash into my bumper. Not everyone has the privilege of mommy and daddy filling their back account with blood money so that you can buy everything you want in life. My parents saved for years to buy me this car just so that I could get to school every morning. Now, thanks to you, my car won’t ever be the same and I’ll have to use the bus and spend more of the money we don’t have just to get here on time!”

Changbin was stunned into silence, eyes wide and appraising as he gaped at me like a glorified clown. But I, apparently, wasn’t finished with my unexpected tirade. “I don’t care that you have a lot of money. I don’t care that your girlfriend is a whore. I don’t care that you can make thirty points in a basketball game because you never pass the ball to your teammates. I just want to get these four years in peace. In fact!” I started, taking a deep breath, “I’ll be better off with you as far away from me as possible! Now, get the hell out of my way so that I can file a report to the police. Hopefully, they revoke your learner’s permit. Although, you can probably just get another overpaid driver to take you to school while I suffer every morning.”

I lifted my cellphone to my ear, placing the call with a shaky hand while explaining to the lady on the other end everything that had happened. “Are you injured ma’am?” she asked me.

I actually smiled at the seemingly innocuous question. “I’m just fine.”

October

Basketball tryouts were rapidly approaching and I was working harder on shooting drills as opposed to benign biology reports. Every evening when I finally got home from school, courtesy of my patched up Honda Civic and still-seething neighbor, I would change into work-out clothes and spend hours outside at the basketball goal until my mother called me in for dinner. I was desperate to make a good impression, scavenging video footage of last year’s Varsity team while doing everything in my power to stay on the head coach’s radar, like picking up leftover equipment from the Freshman gym classes or volunteering to mop the court after hours.

Basketball had become important to me and I was determined to do everything in my power to succeed. Thus, when the first day of try-outs began, I could already beam with pride when the coach called out my name and offered a generous welcome before moving on with the remainder of the students. Flashing an award-winning smile, even after enduring sprint marathon running, I managed to successfully make it past the first day with shining colors. 

“Kayda Reynolds,” my coach called out for me after practice, “excellent job today.”

I was on cloud nine, carefully packing my duffel bag, ignoring the accompanying men’s team hopefuls who had just entered the gym for their session. As I was zipping the top closed, I noticed a bright yellow sneaker had just entered my peripheral vision. I turned around slowly, groaning when I saw Seo Changbin standing directly behind me. I tried to ignore him, tossing my bag across my shoulder, but the irritating boy simply walked in front of me, forcing me to a halt. “Hey, listen, Reynolds,” he started sheepishly with uncharacteristic shyness, “I’m sorry about your car. I hope they fixed it at the garage.”

I glared in his direction. After our parents had shown up to the scene, Changbin’s father recommended a nice body shop nearby that did a lot of work for them. He promised to pay the costs to repair my car, fixing his son with a reprimanding glare that actually left the great Seo Changbin wilting under that stern look. “It’s fine,” I offered in response, pushing past Changbin as I hurried to the door.

“No, Reynolds, I’m serious,” Changbin tried again, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. It was difficult to ignore the sudden flashback, reminding me of a similar scene from my sixth grade terror years. I jerked my arm out of his grip and he allowed it with only a questioning brow. “I hope it’s just the same as it was.”

“Look, Changbin,” I sighed, “I don’t really have time for a conversation. My car is fine, alright?”

Changbin hesitated, dark eyes studying me closely. “I’m really sorry, Reynolds.”

His apology brushed me the wrong way simply because I had never heard Seo Changbin genuinely apologize for anything in his life. “I don’t have time for your jokes,” I snapped in his direction. “If your father forced you to do this, then you can tell him mission accomplished, okay? I don’t want to deal with you anymore.”

I left him there in the middle of the gym, feeling a small sense of accomplishment and pride for standing up for myself once again.

November

The final members of the Varsity girl’s basketball team were announced at the end of the day. I was relieved to see my name amongst the list, even if it was the very last entrant. Nevertheless, I was in a good mood as I followed behind the crowd of my excited new teammates, clambering in the direction of my Honda, exhausted after another long practice. 

Unfortunately, such an exuberant celebration could only last for so long, and I paused in the middle of the parking lot when I realized a familiar silver Corvette was situated directly next to my Honda where my neighbor was waiting. I rolled my eyes when I realized Changbin was standing next to the car, arms crossed over his chest as he ignored the little giggles my teammates let out when they saw him. I contemplated returning to the gym and waiting for him to finally leave when he realized I wasn’t coming. Maybe he was dumb enough to think I had managed a ride home with someone else. 

“No,” I grumbled out loud, “even Changbin isn’t that stupid.”

I reluctantly traversed the remaining steps to my car, frowning when Changbin’s eyes finally located my hesitant form. “Reynolds,” he called out to me, opening the passenger side door of his stupidly expensive car to retrieve something, speaking in a low tone to the older student waiting in the backseat.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I wondered to whoever might be listening, wishing I could reverse time and do things over again from that fateful collision. Maybe I could convince the Kayda from September to leave home earlier, dismissing my concern to water my mother’s suffering plants. 

Nevertheless, I waited until Changbin pulled back from his car to hand me what appeared to be a roll of duct tape. “Is this another joke?” I asked wearily.

“It’s bumper guard,” he announced proudly, looking at me as if in profound expectation. 

“And?”

Changbin’s smile never wavered as he took the tape back from me and directed me to the back of my car. He measured out a long roll, patting it down against my new bumper guard. “It helps prevent scratches and scuff marks,” he explained while I stood there in confusion.

“Thanks?” I managed when he finally confronted me again.

“It’s no problem, Reynolds,” he said, patting the side of my Honda. 

“Uh-huh,” I muttered while reaching for my door handle. 

“I can get you anything you want, Reynolds,” Changbin spoke again, standing firmly in the way of allowing me to join my neighbor inside.

“Changbin,” I groaned, deciding to end this self-inflicted misery once and for all. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly doing these things, but you don’t have to anymore, alright? There’s no way your father could still be punishing you, and you don’t need to feel bad or whatever for what happened. I just want to move on.”

Changbin pursed his lips. “You don’t like the attention, Reynolds?”

I frowned at his comment. “Attention?”

Changbin chuckled, leaning back against his car. “I mean, it’s no secret that I’m a pretty big deal around here.”

And there was his never-ending supply of arrogance to resume normality.

“I thought it might be nice if I gave you some attention. You seemed really bent out of shape after the accident.”

I exhaled slowly. “You think I wanted your attention to make up for the hell you put me through?”

Changbin stuttered, eyes widening in surprise. “The hell I put you through? Reynolds, it was just a minor bump.”

“Fuck, Changbin,” I cursed, instantly regretting doing so. “It’s not just the accident, you’ve been an asshole since I first met you in the sixth grade. You’ve done everything possible to call me out despite the fact that I never wanted anything to do with you! Please at least grant me this one favor and stop bothering me.”

Changbin seemed at a loss for words. “You don’t like me?”

“Is it some big revelation that there might be someone on this planet who hates you?” I sneered. 

Changbin visibly deflated, if just for a brief moment. “You hate me, Reynolds?”

“Of course I do!” I practically shouted. “What made you think otherwise! Changbin, you’re the most conceited, arrogant asshole I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Come on, Reynolds,” Changbin tried to play it off. “I was just joking around.”

“Joking around?!” I fumed. “Changbin, you made me feel worthless when I was in sixth grade. I had just started playing basketball and you successfully made me want to quit. In fact, if it wasn’t for my dad, I probably would have taken your advice to drop off the team. Why would I ever like someone who always put me down because they thought they were superior to everyone else? You might have the rest of the school eating out of the palm of your hand, but you haven’t fooled me. For all the money your family has in the world, I would never want to be like you.” I muscled open my car door, glaring down Changbin as he took a step back. “This is me telling you to back off.”

December

The Christmas tournament was always an extravagant affair in our community. All the teams in the county, including rival conferences, were invited to our school for a series of competitive basketball games. It was an honor to compete and the committee in charge always held additional ceremonies to honor the players. For example, one of the most popular traditions allowed an MVP from each competing men’s team to choose a lucky girl as a recipient of their admiration. Likewise, the chosen player gave a rose to any girl he desired in the audience. It was a dismal affair, superficial in every way, and I could only cringe as I watched each subsequent display of “affection.” I was grateful that nobody ever bothered choosing me because I couldn’t handle that sort of arrogant display.

“Seo Changbin,” the coordinator announced while beckoning him forward. Changbin accepted his rose with an unnecessary bow, taking the microphone while all the girls in the gymnasium swooned at the sight. I spotted Changbin’s off-and-on again girlfriend waiting expectantly in the front row. I couldn’t remember if they were together now or not, since their break-ups were so frequent. 

“Thank you,” Changbin said to the coordinator before surveying the court. I froze when his eyes landed on me. “I pick Kayda Reynolds.”

Upon his declaration, I refused to remove from my spot on the bench, only reacting when my coach harshly dug her fingers into my shoulder, fixing me with a hard stare. I tried not to protest as I slowly made my way to center court, cheeks blushing with red. I took the rose Changbin extended in my direction, glaring him down as he returned my look with one of equal determination. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, bringing my stiffening form against his side for a picture. “I like a challenge, Reynolds,” he whispered, leaving me with a dumbfounded expression for the photographer to memorialize.

January

Christmas break ended far too soon, which meant I was confronted with the unwanted task of returning to school at 8:00 AM on a frigid Monday morning. Stepping outside with a coffee, the last thing I expected to see was Seo Changbin’s car waiting at the sidewalk with the man in question leaning out the window. “Reynolds!” he called for me. “Let’s go!”

I stormed over to Changbin with heavy steps. “What the hell is this?” I hissed through the window. “How do you know where I live?”

Changbin grinned. “It was written on the accident report.”

“Regardless,” I snarled, “I don’t need your help getting to school.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin tried again, “I’m trying to be nice.”

“I don’t want you to be anything,” I sighed. “I always ride with my neighbor in my car, and you obviously know that since you tried to total it!”

“But mine is nicer,” he arrogantly commented, “you can ride to school in luxury.”

“The only luxury I need is for you to be out of my life,” I said, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was observing this odd exchange.

“You can’t bring that coffee in here,” Changbin continued. “I don’t want you spilling that shit on my interior.”

“I’m not riding with you,” I growled.

“Look, Reynolds,” Changbin smirked. “If you ride with me today, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Considering his recent pattern of behavior, the promise was rather shallow. “Really?”

“Let me clear my conscious,” Changbin said, smoothing his hands against the steering wheel. “Just one ride to school.”

“Is that all it takes?” I snorted, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What do you have to lose, Reynolds?”

“My pride,” I deadpanned, enjoying the frustration written across his countenance.

“You’re really hard to get along with, Reynolds.”

“You’re one to talk,” I quipped, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Are you even allowed to drive with more than one person?”

“Does that really concern you, Reynolds?”

I rolled my eyes. “If this gets you off my back, then I’ll do it.”

I dumped my coffee cup into the trash bin at the end of the block before coming around to fumble with the door of Changbin’s car. “I turned your seat warmer on,” he informed me once I was securely inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered dryly, fastening my seatbelt as he abruptly toed the gas pedal, jerking the car forward with far too much speed. “Slow down,” I hissed. “No wonder you hit my car.”

“For your information, Reynolds,” Changbin said. “That was my first accident.”

“It’s true!” the same guy from the accident commented from the backseat. “Changbin is actually a good driver. He won’t need supervision for much longer.”

“Then I’m glad your first accident was me,” I remarked sarcastically, closing my eyes as I sent up a prayer for safety, only relaxing when Changbin pulled his car into a front row parking spot of our school’s student lot. “Great,” I huffed, “now leave me alone.”

“Hold on, Reynolds,” Changbin called out to me, ignoring the obvious way I hastened my steps as he easily fell into pace with me on the sidewalk. “What are you doing after school? We don’t have practice today, I can take you home.”

“I guess I have no choice since you drove me here,” I muttered, desperately trying to reach the front entrance. Hopefully, then, Changbin would wander off to find his ridiculous basketball friends.

“We could get something to eat?” he suggested calmly as if we were close acquaintances instead of mutual rivals.

“Didn’t you promise to leave me alone?” I whined.

“At least for today, Reynolds,” Changbin said with a pleading tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him.

“Don’t you have someone else you can go bother?”

“I like bothering you,” he teased, much to my chagrin. “But seriously, Reynolds, you know the Valentine’s dance is coming up?”

“And?”

“Basketball players are encouraged to go together.”

“You should try asking Monica,” I stated flatly, “I know she actually likes you.”

“I think we should go together, Reynolds,” he said, flooring me to a stop outside the doors.

“What?”

“You should be my date to the dance,” he rephrased carefully, gaze imploring. “I want to go with you.”

I rolled my eyes over his eager form. “I don’t like those things.”

“Just this once?”

“You keep saying that,” I sighed, “but you’re apparently horrible at keeping promises.”

“Kayda,” Changbin said, tone serious as he lightly grazed my arm, fingers wrapping around my shoulder. I was taken aback by the random use of my first name. “Please?”

“But you have a girlfriend,” I insisted, taking a step back to eliminate the unexpected contact between us. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Oh,” Changbin smirked, “is that why you keep turning me down? Trust me, Lisa and I aren’t together anymore.”

“I don’t really care,” I said, suddenly feeling the urge to turn down that possible justification. “Why do you even want to go with me?”

“Because,” he started, shuffling backward, “you’re a lot cooler than most of those girls.”

I blinked twice before managing a somewhat coherent response. “Excuse me?”

“You aren’t going with anyone,” Changbin said. “Even if you don’t like the dance, we can always leave early and do something else.”

Something truly strange must have happened to this boy over Christmas.

“I’m guessing you’ll keep bothering me until I say yes?”

Changbin brightened. “Probably?”

“Fine,” I conceded, “but I really don’t understand you, Changbin.”

And perhaps I never would.

February

“Aren’t they lovely?” my mother asked as she swooned over the roses my father had gifted her for Valentine’s day.

“Sure,” I mumbled because I could never understand why this kind of Holiday even existed.

Except to torture me, especially knowing what I was about to get myself into at the dance that evening.

“Kayda,” my mother gently chided me, “you don’t always have to be so negative.”

“I know,” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Do you need help getting ready for the dance tonight?”

I grimaced. “I’ll be fine.”

My mother, of course, had been positively ecstatic when she heard I was going to the school’s annual Valentine’s dance. It was mostly for underclassmen since Juniors and Seniors usually saved their time and effort for Prom. However, I happen to know that the whole event was exclusively designed so that adolescent teenagers could endure as much drama as possible before the evening had concluded.

“And with Seo Changbin,” my mother gushed. “He’s such a handsome young man.”

I guess she forgot about the fact that he had damaged my Honda.

“He’s something,” I said, watching as my mother fiddled with a vase for her precious flowers that might live for a week or two before wilting and dying away as all young love was destined to do.

How romantic.

FLASH!

I groaned as my father continued to snap pictures of me, trying for every angle possible while my mother messed with my hair and makeup. “Just beautiful,” she said, brushing off the invisible dust that had apparently coagulated on my dress sleeve.

“Don’t you have enough pictures?” I whined to my father, rubbing my eyes as I tried to rid my line of vision of those impeding black spots.

“You never dress like this,” my father whined in return, reminding me of where I had probably picked it up from.

“Because I hate it,” I gritted out, crossing my arms petulantly as I looked up at the clock.

Changbin was due to arrive at any minute and I definitely didn’t want my parents trying to talk to him. They would likely convince him that I was looking forward to the dance and that was the opposite of the truth. In fact, I would much rather stay here curled up in my bed with a decent thriller novel to occupy my time until I passed out for the night.

“He’s here!” my mother squealed as if she were the one going to the dance instead of me. Mere moments later our doorbell rang and I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous looks my parents wore.

“I really hate you guys right now,” I grumbled, opening the door to greet Changbin who waited on the other side, hands behind his back.

“Reynolds,” he smirked, eyes trailing up and down.

“You’re early,” I informed him, sighing loudly as I realized that meant we would have to spend even more time together. I was also aware of my parents watching from behind, so I rolled my eyes and grabbed Changbin’s jacket sleeve to pull him in the direction of his car. 

“Are you finally excited, Reynolds?” he asked, letting out an uncharacteristic giggle as I paused at his car.

“Listen, Changbin,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, “you better promise me that this isn’t some kind of weird joke or something.”

“Of course not, Reynolds,” Changbin said, appearing entirely confused as to why I could possibly think of such a thing.

“Then let’s get this over with,” I sighed, making myself comfortable in the passenger seat, briefly greeting the older couple waiting in the backseat. 

I hadn’t even had the chance to really take in Changbin’s appearance properly, so I discreetly eyed him from the side as he drove. His suit screamed expensive, and the Gucci designer label on his jacket alerted me to the fact that he had spent thousands on an outfit he would probably disregard after tonight’s affairs. The shallowness of his appearance was yet another reminder that there was absolutely no logic behind the two of us being together for this event.

“Listen, Reynolds,” Changbin started, glancing at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road, “I know you weren’t looking forward to this, but I promise that we can leave whenever you want.”

I frowned at the sentiment. “I don’t usually do these things.”

“I know,” Changbin smiled as if happy I had made an exception for him. And if I had more energy, I would have promptly informed him that I was only doing this so that he would finally leave me alone at school. Now that a few stray rumors had recently started circulating about the two of us being spotted together in the parking lot, I was more than prepared to go back into my self-imposed isolation. “My friend Felix works on the committee who put this together,” Changbin added. “It’s supposed to be really cool.”

“I’m not very impressionable,” I said, wondering what sort of lunacy the delinquents in charge of Felix’s squad had rendered for this unnecessary dance. Lee Felix was notorious around the school for being extremely popular, often holding parties at his elaborate townhouse on the weekends since his parents flew a lot for business. And if the stupid lights reflecting off the school’s moldy brick exterior were anything to go by, then I was ready to be disappointed.

I held back a sigh as Changbin hurried to my side of the car, helping me out with a sweaty palm as if he were anything remotely close to a gentleman. “I paid for our tickets in advance,” Changbin said, refusing to let go of my hand despite the fact that I was openly tugging against his impossible hold.

Reluctantly, I let Changbin keep my poor appendage, following him up the front steps of the school’s gymnasium entrance. I could already hear the predominantly bass-filled music pouring outside. And, if I concentrated hard enough, I could smell the faint odor of bad weed emanating from somewhere out in the woods.

Changbin handed our tickets to the perplexed girl waiting at the front, eyes wide as she took in the strange sight of me and the school’s most popular douchebag hand in hand. I swallowed hard as Changbin maintained his firm grip, leading me inside to a nearby group of his friends. Meanwhile, the eyes of my classmates continued to follow us, silently judgemental. What was Seo Changbin doing, they were probably thinking, watching their precious star basketball player bring the school’s quiet isolationist to a time-honored occasion?

“Chan,” Changbin greeted one of the players, exchanging an unnecessarily complicated handshake. 

“Kayda Reynolds,” Chan greeted me, and I was faintly surprised that the Senior boy even knows my name. Based on what I heard from the annoying group of girls who sat at the table behind me in Biology, Chan had been voted most popular boy in the Senior class. He was also the starting shooting guard for the men’s Varsity team which meant a hell of a lot around this community.

Changbin pulled me even closer upon Chan’s utterance of my name, inquiring about some sort of college tour Chan was scheduled to participate that weekend. If only I could have been a Senior already, then I’d make sure to attend university as far away from Changbin as possible. Perhaps then I might attain the peace I truly deserved.

And despite the fact that I was hoping to just stand there without having to muster a single word, inevitably, I was brought into the conversation. “I didn’t know you liked these things, Kayda,” one of my older teammates remarked. Eda was her name, and she was currently hanging from the arm of a rather handsome basketball player. 

“I thought I’d try,” I answered shortly, aware that Changbin was probably listening, even as he remained engrossed in conversation with Chan.

Eda hesitated, glancing between me and Changbin. “I didn’t know you and Changbin were together.”

“Of course,” Changbin smoothly inserted, interrupting me before I could possibly deny the allegation. His fingers fanned out across my hip, hold unrelenting around my waist. 

I clenched my jaw as I fixed him with a glare. Take a hint, I wanted to shout in his stupidly smug face. “Really?” Eda gasped, eyes wide with admiration. “Congratulations.”

Was I getting an athletic scholarship to Harvard?

“What about Lisa?” I heard another girl whisper from some distant proximity. 

Changbin probably didn’t hear the girl as he was too busy bragging to his friends about the romantic encounter we had that led to our unexpected coupling. And I was too dumbstruck to do anything but stand there like a blushing fool, listening to the whispers while feeling the eyes of the other students watching me with close attention. But perhaps this is what Changbin intended, a way to get me to an unsanctioned school event just to humiliate me further.

“Let’s dance, Reynolds,” Changbin said, abruptly dragging me away from the gossip circle.

Was this it? I thought to myself as he brought me closer. My mouth was dry, completely devoid of any moisture when his pelvis brushed against my lower stomach. He still had a firm hold of my right hand while his other hand rested low on my wait.

Too low.

I glared at him in warning as I reached back to redirect his hand higher, receiving another adorable giggle for my efforts. He pulled me closer, leaving no space between our bodies as he led me across the floor. And I, being no expert on anything dance-related, could only follow his lead as I tried not to embarrass myself more than Changbin had already successfully done. “You act like you’ve never done this before, Reynolds,” Changbin teased and I hated how satisfied he looked with our current condition.

This was definitely an act. 

“What are you doing?” I muttered darkly, glaring at as many people as I could manage because they insisted on studying us like zoo animals in captivity.

“Dancing, I think,” he chuckled, breath warm against my face which meant we were way too close together.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, feeling unexpectedly defeated as I realized that Changbin was winning yet again. He had tricked me into coming with him to this stupid dance to humiliate me in front of his stupid friends. I felt trapped, and it wasn’t just because of the insistent grip he managed around my waist. 

“Kayda,” Changbin sighed, leaning in to brush his nose against my collarbone, “you’re so beautiful.”

I mustered as much strength as I could, jerking away from him with a force he had not anticipated. Changbin let me go with wide eyes, watching as I took several steps back. I could still feel everyone looking at us, waiting for something to happen, but I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. I was done being the object of everyone’s amusement, especially when it involved Seo Changbin.

“You didn’t need to go this far!” I hissed at him, despising the tears that had started to free themselves from my swollen ducts.

“Reynolds?” Changbin questioned, reaching for me again, but I quickly knocked his hand away.

“Leave me alone,” I told him, already retreating in the direction of the locker room, knowing I could leave from the back exit before this night got any worse.

“Reynolds!”

“Don’t follow me,” I practically begged him, trying to hasten my steps but the heel of my shoe was caught at the bottom of my dress.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, reaching down to fix something that I could actually control. “Hey, Reynolds,” Changbin said, panting slightly as he touched my elbow. “What did I do?”

I spun around so quickly that he released me with a start, taking a few steps back. “You’re mocking me!” I screamed in his direction, wiping away the stupid tears that were steadily cascading freely from the corners of my eyes. 

“Kayda,” Changbin said, clearly startled by my words, “I don’t understand what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t,” I sniffled, turning away from his troubling presence to try and get a grip over my emotions. 

He wasn’t helping matters, coming up behind me to grab my waist. “Tell me,” he insisted, “I’ll listen.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, vision clouding. “Please just take me home.”

“It does matter,” Changbin insisted, forcing me to turn back around. “I want to know.”

“You’re never nice to me,” I said. “I don’t know why I thought you might have been reasonable tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you that clueless?” I snapped, meeting his gaze with renewed vigor. “Ever since we first met, you’ve done nothing but humiliate me and I’m really tired of the way you treat me and everyone else.” 

Changbin’s hands fell from my waist. “The way I treat you?”

“Yes,” I sighed with irritation. “You act like you’re better than me because your parents have money and a nice house. And because you act like that, you think you can just treat me like your personal doormat. Ever since I can remember, you’ve always said whatever you felt like, even if it was hurtful, and you do it to other people too, but I guess they can handle it better than me since I’m the primary recipient!”

I took in several deep breaths, eyes shut together tightly. When I opened them again, I was met with a sight that shocked me to my core. And I could never forget the way he looked at me this time because there was no reason for Seo Changbin to look so defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, voice trembling. I was stunned by the glistening wetness gathering in his eyes. “I really like you, Kayda,” he said. “I’ve always liked you.”

The revelation was almost as shocking as his tears. I tensed my hands into tight fists, digging my nails into my skin to feel another kind of pain, one that was more bearable than the ache I felt in my heart. It was almost torturous to endure, covering my eyes with my hands to try and stop more tears from falling. “No you don’t,” I insisted, unable to outmatch his strength as he forced my hands away from my face.

“I know I shouldn’t have done those things to you, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I was a stupid and immature kid and I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. Because I didn’t know it would hurt you like this.”

“Why would you think otherwise?”

“Because I thought it would make you better,” Changbin said. “I figured that you would only fight to prove me wrong.”

“That’s horrible,” I said, shaking my head so quickly that it almost resembled the effects of whiplash.

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded, a strange darkness masking his expression. “It probably was.”

I let out a deep breath, worried about the anxious pacing of my cardiac rhythm. “And what you said in there about us being together? You know that’s not true and it probably never will be.”

Changbin nodded slowly, accepting the truth for once in his life. “I don’t deserve you, Kayda,” he said, voice incredibly sad as he looked down at the ground. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

I pulled out my phone to call my parents. “I hope you mean it this time.”

March

The end of basketball season also brought about a renewed concentration for my academic endeavors. It also meant that I was seeing much less of Seo Changbin for which I was grateful. The pitiful looks he threw my way were starting to really affect me far more than I was willing to let on. 

At least things had started to return to normal, as in, Changbin was still flocked by his countless admirers while I enjoyed the peace of being ignored. It was much better this way, especially since I was happier without the teasing and taunting from the man in question. It was proving to be a necessary change.

There was also a new student in my Biology class. And after taking in the handsome combination of his dark hair and eyes, I understood why everyone was interested in pursuing him. Of course, this mainly included the girls who had finally realized they could never have Seo Changbin, seeking a new target for their endless flirtations. But I also felt sorry for the newcomer because he already seemed different than the others. He was quiet, like me, and seemed to prefer the solitude of sitting alone at the back of our classroom. Until those stupid girls started flocking him like glorified vultures.

I watched him one day while we were working on an independent assignment, which mostly meant everyone enjoyed a generous conversation while our teacher tried to win a game of Solitaire. The new kid was obviously more interested in his assignment than everyone else, and I could tell he was uncomfortable with the attention. Normally, I stayed out of the way, knowing it always turned out better for me in the end. However, I couldn’t let him suffer, so I kindly waited for him at the end of class, touching his arm when he passed by. His eyes were wide when they met mine. “You know,” I said, leaning in close, “those girls really hate me. If you ever need some space to do your work, then you can always sit next to me.”

I offered him a kind smile before proceeding to my next class.

The next morning, I was only half-surprised to see him already seated at the spot next to me at my table. I dumped my books on top of the faded surface before taking my seat, pulling out the assignment sheet from my folder. I started working as the bell rang, vaguely paying mind to our teacher who walked in with a yawn, encouraging us to continue working while he slammed his head down on top of his desk. I rolled my eyes and opened my calculator, aware that the new kid was watching my every move. I could hear whispers from the table next to mine and only looked up to glare at those annoying girls before returning to my work. 

“Thank you,” the boy finally murmured and I only let out a hum as I considered the multiple-choice questions in front of me.

And from that point on, I found myself with a new desk partner for my morning class who eventually introduced himself as Han Jisung. Subsequently, if our teacher ever assigned group work, I always agreed to pair up with Jisung while enjoying the looks of hostility thrown my way. In actuality, Jisung was incredibly smart and really fun to work with, making intelligent puns and jokes about the illustrations in our textbooks. I laughed every time, offering my own takes in return because I actually didn’t mind the way he snickered in response.

But I didn’t realize how closely the rest of the student population was observing our interactions until it was brought to my attention courtesy of my nosy teammates. One day at basketball practice, a younger player innocently inquired about Jisung. “You’re so lucky!” she swooned to which I offered a vague noise of agreement. “He’s so gorgeous,” the girl continued, gripping my arm with unnecessary strength.

“Are you dating Han Jisung, Kayda?” our team captain asked me and I blushed furiously at her question, denying the insinuation.

When I turned around to find my gym bag, I could see Seo Changbin watching the exchange with barely disguised anger.

April

Han Jisung was proving to be a very interesting character. Despite his beautiful visuals and obvious appeal, Jisung rarely paid any attention to the scores of girls who flocked around him for attention. In fact, he often wrinkled his nose in disgust before excusing himself. And he didn’t seem to like the popular guys who tried to befriend him, asking him to try out for different sports teams. In fact, the only popular guy Jisung seemed to like was Lee Felix and that’s simply because nobody could resist his charm.

But, more than anything else, Han Jisung actually liked me and he often escorted me to my classes, joining me at my lunch table of isolation during fourth period, or even lingering by my Honda after school to tell me some kind of cheesy joke he obviously waited all day to share. It was beyond strange, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with the disruption in my usual routine. But I also didn’t mind it at all and even found myself seeking out Jisung in the hallways or waiting with anticipation for him to walk into Biology every morning. Sometimes, he even brought me an extra coffee, talking in great detail about his precious espresso machine as if it were his most prized possession. 

Subsequently, I didn’t even hesitate to agree to hang out with Jisung after school one afternoon. Especially when I found out that Jisung had recently gotten his intermediate license, which meant we could ride together without worrying about having an older supervisor in the car with us. Apparently, being a year older made Jisung even more appealing.

“I heard you’re good at basketball,” he joked. “Should we go to the park? Maybe you could teach me?”

I brightened at the suggestion. “Okay!”

Yet, nothing could have ruined my mood more than the sight of Seo Changbin and his basketball buddies already occupying one of the courts when Jisung pulled up in his red Toyota. “Great,” I muttered, trying to ignore the way Changbin’s biceps flexed enticingly.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked while turning off the ignition.

“We don’t really get along,” I told Jisung.

“You and Changbin?” Jisung frowned. “That kid hates me too. Don’t know what his problem is.”

“He’s a jerk,” I said, reaching for the door handle of Jisung’s car.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Jisung asked. “We can always go do something else.”

“No,” I turned him down with emphasis. “We can be here too.”

Jisung shrugged and reached into the backseat for the basketball we had taken from my car. He followed me as I led the way with as much confidence as I could muster, ignoring the way Changbin’s eyes seemed to follow the two of us as we claimed the next court over. I tucked the basketball under my arm, turning to face Jisung with a grin. “What do you want to play?”

“Your choice, Kayda,” Jisung said, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. “I’m not the expert here.”

He was also very good at stroking my ego.

I blushed at the comment regardless, running my fingers across the grooves of the ball in my hand. Of course, my good mood was never meant to last for long, and my smile vanished when I realized that a stray basketball had rolled its way over to where Jisung and I were conversing. 

“Sorry,” Changbin muttered when he came over to retrieve the ball, standing up straight to eye Jisung with narrowed eyes. 

“Keep the ball on your side,” I told him, reaching out for Jisung’s hand with every intention of leading us further away.

Changbin’s jaw clenched, knuckles turning white from their grip on the basketball in his hands. “Why don’t the two of you join us?” Changbin asked.

“We’re fine,” I said in response, but Changbin was determined.

“Felix wanted to make a team,” he continued. “We could do a tournament?”

“Not interested,” I reiterated, but my words seemed to have no effect on Changbin’s resolve.

“Felix!” he shouted in the direction of his red-headed friend. The smaller boy joined us with a wide smile. “You need two players, right?”

Felix nodded, turning to us with an exaggerated pout. “Please?”

Jisung laughed, tossing an easy arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Of course! Kayda and I would be happy to join.”

“We would?” I muttered, reluctantly following the three boys as we made our way to the opposing court.

The first game involved Changbin’s team versus Chan’s, meaning I was currently sitting on the ground with Jisung while Felix introduced us to his other two players. “This is Minho and Hyunjin.”

“At least we have one good player,” Minho joked, winking in my direction. Was this the first time Minho had ever spoken to me?

“Changbin never picks us,” Hyunjin sighed dramatically as if his sole life’s problem was Changbin ignoring him in favor of better talent. 

“But neither does Chan,” Felix spoke up and Minho laughed at the observation.

“Do you have any tips, Kayda?” Hyunjin asked, moving in closer as he scanned the court. “It looks like we’ll have to go against Changbin’s team.”

I twisted my head to the side, watching Changbin step back to shoot a wide-open three-pointer. “Guard the hell out of Seo and we should be fine.”

“The first team to 12 points wins!” Chan explained to us, coaxing Hyunjin and Changbin forward as the two shook hands for Jump Ball. I lingered back on defense, figuring that Changbin would somehow find a way to get the ball from Hyunjin despite the fact that my new teammate had a good four inches of height over him. “Ready?”

“Let’s go, team!” Felix shouted with faux enthusiasm, and I resisted the urge to sigh.

And as expected, Changbin managed to outsmart Hyujin, tipping the ball towards one of his players. I immediately prepared myself, anticipating a fast return to the goal I was invested in protecting. However, my opponent seemed to reconsider his advances, slowing the ball down to wait for the remainder of his teammates to find their positions.

I took a step closer to the player handling the ball, paying no mind to my confused teammates as they openly asked who they were supposed to be matched up with. I attempted to block an overhead pass from the player I was guarding, but it successfully found its way into Changbin’s hands who scored the easy jumper. I scowled as I marched over to my teammates, demanding to know who had been guarding Changbin. “I think it was me?” Mingo said, raising his hand cautiously while eyeing his friends.

“I could always do it?” Jisung suggested, and I instantly agreed because I definitely did not have the patience to guard Changbin.

I also hesitantly complied to handle the ball down the court, rolling my eyes when I realized Changbin had decided to guard me by not so subtly nudging one of his own players out of the way. I passed the ball to Hyunjin who attempted a dramatic three-pointer. Sadly, the ball never even made it to the basket, connecting with the barbed wire fence out of bounds. “Sorry!” Hyunjin apologized, but I was already backpedaling down the court.

Because it was going to be a long game.

“Five minutes left!” Chan shouted from the sidelines as if it mattered. We were losing horribly, the only points on the board coming from my efforts. And they had been considerable since Changbin insisted on face guarding me like I was Lebron James ready at any moment to dunk the basketball from the foul line.

“Shot!” Felix shouted, disrupting my wandering thoughts as I dove in for the rebound, watching the ball bank against the backboard.

I started up the court, deciding that setting up a play would never work since the rest of my team were truly terrible at following directions. “Kayda!” I heard Jisung summon my name and I realized he had somehow broken ahead of the others, wide open for my pass to the basket.

I threw the ball ahead to Jisung, watching with high expectations as he managed a decent angle for a shot attempt. And Jisung was prepared to make the layup, one foot already leaving the pavement, when Changbin suddenly intervened, deciding to confront Jisung and risk a potential foul. Of course, I never expected Changbin to act so aggressively, and I could only look on from afar as his hand came down to hit Jisung squarely in the nose. Almost immediately, Jisung fumbled the ball and Chan blew the whistle to signal the end of gameplay. 

“Changbin!” Chan scolded the younger player, hip jutting out sharply as he fixed Changbin with a stern gaze.

Meanwhile, I joined Felix on either side of Jisung, wincing when I noticed that Jisung’s nose was bleeding, hands cupping his face to try and stop the scarlet red that was already painting his honey-colored skin. “Is it broken?” I asked Jisung who merely whined in return.

“It might be,” Felix said. “Did he drive here?”

I nodded quickly, watching as Felix helped Jisung back to his feet. “I can ride with him to the hospital.”

I kept a firm hand around Jisung’s shoulder as I made sure to give Changbin a glare of my own as we passed him. “That wasn’t necessary,” I hissed in his direction, but Changbin was instantly apologetic.

He ran out in front of Jisung, forcing us to a stop. “I’m sorry Jisung,” Changbin said. “I got carried away.”

Jisung only waved him off, and Felix chose to take complete control of the situation, directing Jisung towards the parking lot. Before I could try to join them, Changbin had grabbed my arm. “I really didn’t mean to.”

His gaze was sincere, but I was still suspicious because I had openly witnessed a similar kind of aggression which Changbin was notorious for on the court since middle school. “How do I know that?”

“Because I’m telling the truth,” he implored, taking a step back to allow me more breathing room.

“He’ll probably be fine,” Chan commented, slinging a careful arm around Changbin’s shoulders. “Binnie can be a little rough.”

I scoffed at the affectionate nickname. “It looked intentional.”

“And now we lost one of our players,” Minho cried from behind me. 

“I guess the game is over,” Hyujin remarked, patting his friend on the back as if to offer sympathy. “Are you riding home with me?”

Minho nodded his compliance and I realized at that moment that Jisung had driven me here, which meant I had no ride. “I’ll have to call my parents,” I muttered.

“I can drive you home, Reynolds,” Changbin said, shuffling towards me. “Chan lives close to you.”

I took a moment to study Felix as he carefully led Jisung to his car, and I couldn’t help but think this had been some kind of elaborate set-up. “Fine.”

Changbin’s car stopped in front of my house after we dropped off Chan and I went to open the door before realizing that it was locked. “Do you intend to keep me prisoner?” I asked Changbin, only half-jokingly.

But Changbin was serious, fingers thumping against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry about the dance, Kayda.”

I glanced out the window. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” Changbin shook his head. “I planned something different.”

“And what exactly were you expecting?”

Perhaps my question held more implications than I realized as Changbin’s hands fell from the wheel. “I wanted you to like me.”

“What do you mean...” I trailed off, freezing as I realized Changbin had leaned in closer to me over the center console.

“But I guess it didn’t work,” Changbin whispered. “I didn’t get what I wanted for once.”

“And what do you want?” I asked him, still as cautious as ever as I waited for my explanation.

“I really like you,” Changbin said, hand suddenly coming around to gracefully handle the back of my neck, fingers cool against my overheated skin. It provided a useful foundation to hold me in place, keeping me waiting as he continued to move in closer. 

I blamed the complete shock of the moment for everything that happened thereafter.

Changbin’s lips were smooth and gentle, coaxing my mouth open as his tongue invaded the warm cavern of my mouth, daring to slip across the muscle hesitating to act in compliance with his advances. I had never kissed anyone before in my life, so the sensation was entirely new and, dare I acknowledge, rather wonderful. The way I could feel the ridges of his lips, chapped from the wind, working in a strange harmony in mine as if this intimate dance was predicated by fate itself.

But I was still the first to pull away, detecting resistance in Changbin’s hold, ignoring the way his lips seemed to chase mine. “Changbin,” I whispered, slightly wary of the dark look in his eyes.

“Just one kiss?” Changbin pouted and I strangely found it endearing even as I tried to remember why I didn’t like him.

“I’m really confused,” I told him honestly. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“Just you,” he said, offering me a kind smile. “I want to be with you.”

It was all too much and I shook my head in denial. “I don’t know what to say right now.”

“What if I give you time to think about it?”

I nodded as a response because I was desperate to be left alone, reaching for the door handle. “Will you push me for an answer?”

Changbin scoffed. “What if I let you come to me this time, Reynolds?”

“You might be waiting a while.”

“I can be patient.”

I seriously questioned that assertion, offering Changbin one more disbelieving glance before graciously accepting the faint breeze that greeted me outside.

May

Jisung made a full recovery, returning to school with the same lazy playfulness that seemed to define his character. “As long as it doesn’t affect my looks,” Jisung said, earning himself one of my trademarked eye rolls in return.

“I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Why should you apologize?” Jisung shrugged. “You aren’t responsible for Changbin.”

No, I really wasn’t, but that didn’t mean his friends were ready to acknowledge Jisung’s truthful claim.

“Kayda Reynolds.”

I looked up in surprise when I recognized Felix’s voice. I had been eating lunch alone since Jisung had asked for permission to leave school early, feigning a sore throat when in reality he wanted to skip his next period’s test. “Felix?”

The younger boy tsked as he sat down across from me without a single request for permission. “You shouldn’t keep ignoring him.”

I rolled my eyes when I realized his intentions. “Are you his advocate now?”

“No, but I am his friend.”

I gave up on trying to eat the school’s special meatloaf. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No,” Felix shook his head, “but I think you’re being unfair.”

“He told me to take my time.”

“Which is a lot to ask of Changbin,” Felix said, giving me a look like I was incapable of understanding simple English.

“Don’t you think this is a lot for me to handle?” I asked him. “I’m not exactly his biggest fan.”

“At least give him something,” Felix said, sighing as he handled the apple on his lunch tray with disdain. 

“Will that make everyone happy?” I grumbled.

“You might even be surprised yourself,” Felix shot back, handling my sarcasm with ease. And that earned him enough respect to accommodate his request.

I found Changbin in the parking lot that afternoon. He was talking with Chan and another basketball player, appearing entirely at ease as he relaxed against the hood of his Corvette. It was difficult to intercede, knowing that I was reluctantly giving Changbin what he wanted.

Chan was the first to notice me, eyes growing wide as he nudged Changbin with a nod in my direction. Changbin turned around slowly, brightening immediately when he realized what his friend had been referencing. And he must have said something to dismiss Chan and his other friend because the two of them quickly retreated further into the maze of student cars. “I’m happy to see you,” Changbin said, voice betraying his obvious excitement. Which was still strange because Changbin had never spoken to me that way before. 

“Felix was convincing,” I said in return, anxiously glancing around the parking lot. “He said I was being unfair.”

“Ah,” Changbin nodded, running a nervous hand through his dark hair. “I did tell you to take your time.”

“Well,” I shrugged, “I suppose we can talk.”

Changbin nodded enthusiastically. “Do you want to go somewhere else, Reynolds?”

“That would be nice,” I admitted because we were starting to attract a lot of unwanted attention.

Changbin seemed thrilled by my acceptance, opening his passenger door for me. “I know a place we can go.”

“An arcade?” I questioned, pausing when a little boy abruptly ran out in front of me, eyes focused on the brightly lit wall of machines.

“Maybe I’m not so good at this,” Changbin said, clearing his throat as he brought us to an empty table. “I thought it might be fun.”

But I thought we were just talking, I wanted to offer in return but there was something irresistible about the boyish charm Changbin seemed to exude surrounded by such childish innocence. “My dad took me to arcades a lot when I was younger,” I said, unzipping my jacket because it had started to grow warm in the surrounding room.

“Really?” Changbin asked, looking up in surprise. “Do you wanna play?”

“Maybe for a little while,” I said, not missing the way his lips pulled tighter at the corners, revealing an uncharacteristic open-mouthed smile.

“Wait here,” Changbin instructed, and I obeyed his wish as he started to shove a twenty into the token machine.

I watched him when he came back, counting out the coins in his hand, handing me a substantial stack. “What do you wanna play?”

“Do you like video games?”

“My favorite way to waste time.”

Changbin and I were as close to addicts as two people could get, maintaining a constant presence next to the wildly entertaining shooting game he apparently enjoyed. I had gotten pretty good at the game, although Changbin continued to beat me each time we started a new round. However, at least he managed to refrain from bragging about how good he was at the game, which was a victory in and of itself. Because then I would have had to swiftly remind him that not everybody had enough money to come here on a whim’s notice to play to their heart’s content.

“One more round, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, holding up his final two silver tokens.

“I have a good feeling this time,” I said, snatching my coin to quickly shove inside the machine.

Changbin joined my session, loading up the queue as I held tight to the controller in my hand. As soon as the countdown sequence flashed across the screen, I felt my shoulders tense while my fingers flexed against the buttons. This time I was determined, even if I hated the smug smile Changbin wore on his face as he watched me with amusement.

The game progressed with an early advantage in my favor. I must have caught one of Changbin’s CPU players off-guard, attacking the base with relative success. Meanwhile, the man in question was nowhere in sight, and I could only make out his name on the tiny map at the bottom corner of my screen. Why wasn’t he attacking? I wondered as I infiltrated the next base.

“Did you forget how to play?” I couldn’t help but tease him. Yet, when he didn’t offer a snarky retort in response, I finally realized what was going on, especially once the game concluded with my victory. 

Changbin showed no signs of remorse. In fact, he seemed perfectly content with the results. It was now obvious that Changbin had clearly let me win, and I turned to him with a start. “Why did you give up?”

Changbin looked sheepish like he wasn’t expecting me to catch on to his plan. “That was all you, Reynolds.”

“Really?” I snickered. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“There’s a lot I’m willing to do for you,” Changbin said while minding his game controller. 

The seriousness of his tone caught me off-guard. 

“I guess it’s okay,” I said, somewhat hesitant. “This is kinda what friends would do, right?”

Changbin’s expression shifted, but only in the way his gaze dropped from mine. “Yeah, friends...”

Over the next few weeks, Changbin continued to invite me out, sometimes encouraging me to hang around the rest of his friends. It was actually kind of nice since most of Changbin’s friends were entirely different when it was just our classmates who weren’t around. In a way, it was like the arrogant facade was lifted, even if some of them, mainly Changbin himself, still couldn’t resist the occasional remark. But the best part was that Changbin never pushed me for an answer to that unspoken question hanging between us. And in the meantime, I could surprisingly enjoy the things he wanted to do, while he also accommodated my requests to spend time in the quiet solitude of the library. Although, I could tell Changbin was not as entertained as me, flipping through his textbook with a lax expression.

“He sounds both horrible and perfect,” Jisung said to me one day at lunch. 

“Why did he bother me so much in middle school?” 

Jisung shrugged. “Maybe it was his way of telling you something.”

“That he hated me?”

“Sounds like it was the complete opposite,” Jisung said. “I guess loverboy is really bad at expressing his feelings.”

“I can’t wait for the school year to end,” I lamented.

“A couple months away from Seo Changbin?” Jisung grinned. “But I’m not letting you brood by yourself all summer.”

“I like brooding,” I told him because it was definitely true. At least, at one point it was. Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“So when are you gonna confront Changbin about your relationship problems?”

“We don’t have a relationship,” I grimaced. “And, for your information, I plan to keep putting it off because I have no idea what to say.”

“Better figure it out soon,” Jisung pointed out. “The end of the year always flies by.”

And curse him for being right.

June

The end of my Freshman year brought about a dramatic cliffhanger to the mess that now defined my life. Ironically, I had somehow evolved from the quiet girl who desired nothing more than to be left alone, to a frequent topic of debate amongst gossip circles at our school. Not to mention, I had somehow made a friend out of Han Jisung while inevitably being adopted into Changbin’s close circle of acquaintances despite my resistance.

And once the final bell rang for summer vacation, I joined the swarm of hyperactive students racing through the main entrance, flooding the student parking lot with excited chatter. In the meantime, Jisung was patiently waiting for me on the sidewalk, offering a charming smile once I fell into pace with him. “My dad’s forcing me to go to some sort of weird summer camp,” Jisung sighed despondently. “I guess that means we can’t crash the five-dollar movies on Tuesdays, Kayda.”

I was disappointed with Jisung’s revelation. “Maybe I should have found a camp this summer. Everyone else is leaving.”

“Including your admirer,” Jisung teased, nodding in Changbin’s direction.

I followed his gaze, realizing that it was finally time for me to give Changbin the answer he had been anticipating since April. “Give me a minute,” I said to Jisung, leaving him waiting by my car while I started in Changbin’s direction, amused by the way he tried to appear perfectly indifferent.

“Reynolds,” he acknowledged me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I guess you made the summer league tournament,” I said, hesitantly searching for the right words.

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded. “There could be scouts watching.”

“I heard that too,” I agreed, wondering if it was too late to write some sort of elaborate note and leave it under his windshield wiper. “You’re probably waiting on my answer.”

Changbin straightened immediately, gaze imploring as he looked at me. “And?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I revealed, watching his expression fall. “It’s a lot for me to handle, but I do have a compromise.”

“Compromise?”

“When the school year starts again,” I said, “and you’re still interested, maybe we could be friends? I think that’s best for us.”

Changbin seemed to process my words slowly. “Just friends?”

I nodded. “I kinda liked these past few weeks. It was nice compared to middle school.”

Changbin flinched at my comment, letting out a shaky laugh. “Maybe we’re better off as friends, Reynolds,” Changbin agreed, holding out a hand which I tentatively shook.

“Friends,” I emphasized, although the determined look in Changbin’s gaze was hard to so easily dismiss.

[startrailed]

This is probably very sloppy and it started getting away from me in terms of the song itself that I was inspired by but hey I said “inspired by” not that I was writing a songfic lol.

They hadn’t spoken since the Council expelled Ahsoka from the Jedi Order.

Anakin had faith that they’d resolve their differences and make up like they seemingly usually did, but that faith had dwindled into resignation after their long stony silence continued on without any sign of stopping.  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were far too stubborn with far too much emotional baggage to let up now.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Qui-Gon was feeling or thinking; their bond, which previously had never truly been shut off or severed, was far too weak and frayed to begin with because of the war and all it took was one good yank to snap it into tatters.  He kept telling himself he didn’t want to know, either.  Or, rather, he kept telling himself that he already knew and to hear and feel it in his head would simply hurt more.

This, he had mused to himself, was why the warned against attachments.  Not that he had any misconceptions about whether Qui-Gon was attached to him or not anymore.  He had made it plain in as many words that he never really knew or accepted his former apprentice, that their previous engagements were nothing more than a mistake and all Qui-Gon needed from him was a bit of stress relief.  It was odd to him, thinking about it (not that he did).  As clear as it was now, Obi-Wan felt rather like a child for not recognizing that a bit of fun and relaxation was all he was to Qui-Gon.  Naive and foolish.

Their fight was one that the Temple still talked about despite the months that had passed.  It even surpassed the hubbub over their fight three years ago when the war was first breaking out; a fight that never truly resolved, like so many of their others.  His entire history with Qui-Gon seemed like one long war itself with numerous skirmishes and a ceasefire instead of a true peace agreement or winner.

His thoughts drifted back to Ahsoka. Everything moved so swiftly around them, and despite the two days since he saw her it felt more like two weeks or months.  She seemed healthy enough but a bit snappish (although what did he expect from someone he had helped influence just as much as Anakin sometimes?  During her time in the Order, Ahsoka one official Master, 2 unofficial ones, 2 doting grandmasters, and was basically co-adopted by her official Master and his wife that Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to know about).

A part of him wanted Qui-Gon to know that she was doing well and rushing off into danger again like usual.  Obi-Wan’s eyes lingered on his comm for a moment before swiftly putting it away.  Anakin probably already told him all about it.

He had done his best by her, everything he possibly could do while trusting that Anakin would do his part and find evidence to exonerate her, and he was blamed for the Council’s decision as per usual.  They didn’t know the hours he spent arguing on Ahsoka’s behalf the entire time, the strains he put on his friendships there because of the accusations he himself hurdled at them, the desperation in his hoarse voice during the vote even as he watched almost all of them vote against her.  He could’ve shook Master Plo for being the lone voice to side with him but not offering to help his defense beyond what he said when he voted no.  This was often the case with being on the Council for him; the Council was a democracy, so what did it matter that he voiced his opposition or support of a position contrary to what the Council sometimes put out?  He’d still get blamed for it by Qui-Gon, Anakin, even Ahsoka anyway.  Had Obi-Wan had it his way, Anakin would’ve at least had more time to find proof of her innocence and Ahsoka wouldn’t have been at risk of death even if he didn’t.

But this was never the case for Obi-Wan.  He had been overruled, and Qui-Gon had taken out his anger and frustration with the Council on Obi-Wan as if it was his fault that the Council expelled her, that he didn’t do enough to help, that he likely didn’t even try...

Obi-Wan had snapped at these accusations, no longer able to just stand their and act out the role of the self-martyring Council member in front of the people who were supposed to know him better.  He had shot back that Qui-Gon was short-sighted, unable to see the goings on of the world around him that weren’t directly in front of his nose, that all the help in the world didn’t mean a thing if they proved her innocence after she was murdered by the Republic, that Qui-Gon was always like this with everything, that just because Obi-Wan didn’t need to rush around with a lightsaber waving around everywhere it didn’t mean he didn’t do his part.

Everything escalated after that.  Long abandoned grievances aired.  Forgotten (but still felt like phantom echoes) roared back into existence.  Obi-Wan snarled and said that at least his grandmaster had the spine to leave the Order for his beliefs instead of fostering the same discontent within the Order that got Ahsoka in this mess to begin with.  Qui-Gon had shot back that the Order no longer functioned and that the evidence that he had failed as a teacher was standing in front of him, that no one on the Council or supported them could be counted as a jedi.  

“Perhaps you should’ve just left me on Bandomeer, then!”  “Yes, perhaps I should’ve.”

All this and more dwelled in his mind on the ship to Utapau.  Perhaps it was Ahsoka’s unexpected visit and their earlier holochat, or the recognition of a painfully familiar person in the background while he was saying his goodbyes to Anakin, or it might’ve even been the ever increasing feeling of dread he felt with each passing moment since he left Coruscant.  

And then came Order 66.  As far as Obi-Wan knew, it was just him, Yoda, maybe a handful of others off-planet.  The only thing he could think was that last he saw Qui-Gon he was on Coruscant.  The Temple had burned, not a living soul left inside, and he could’ve screamed because all he wanted to know was where Qui-Gon and Anakin were...and after watching the security tape he now just wished he knew where Qui-Gon was.  Had Qui-Gon stood his ground to defend the Temple?  Had he found a group of younglings and smuggled them out?  Was he still on the planet somewhere, unable to escape due to the mass scrutiny to make sure no Jedi attempted to flee?

Obi-Wan desperately reached out through their now severed bond, trying to feel anything, even a hint, because he couldn’t reconcile himself with the idea that their last words were spoken in anger and he had a chance to reach out that previous day and didn’t, that he was too focused on not being killed or drowned that he may have missed Qui-Gon’s last ever attempt to communicate to do anything...

On his way to talk with his very pregnant and very much not going to take any of this well friend, to possibly have to kill one of the last people in the entire galaxy he had given his heart to, Obi-Wan stifled a sob.  

[thejackmeister-mongolhistory]

So I have come across this trivia several times already but I have failed to find it everywhere or even seen historian grant it more than half a sentence (which is funny, because outside of this I think I have never seen any physical description of Genghis)... Did Genghis Khan actually have red hair?

Good question Annedey! I too have seen this pop up on the internet from time to time, on several occasions being used to argue that Chinggis Khan was white! But let me clarify matters:

When people bring up the ‘red hair,’ online, the few times they bother to provide any details beyond that they present the source as Persian historian Rashid al-Din (who wrote in the early 1300s, a vizier for the Ilkhanate), in a section wherein Chinggis meets his grandson Kublai (born 1215) for the first time.  The story goes that Chinggis remarks with surprise that Kublai did not inherit his red hair.

Or so it goes on this online iteration. But when we actually look in this segment in Rashid al-Din’s work, we find the exchange is translated rather differently:

“It so happened that two months prior to Mögä’s [the son of Kublai’s nurse] birth, Qubilai Qa’an [Kublai Khan] was born, and when Genghis Khan’s gaze fell upon him he said, “Our [Chinggis Khan’s] sons are all of a ruddy complexion, but this boy [Kublai] is swarthy, just like his maternal uncles. Tell Sorqaghtani Beki [Kublai’s mother] to give him to a good nurse to be brought up by.”” -Rashid al-Din/Thackston translation, 415.

“It chanced that he was born 2 months before Möge, and when Chingiz-Khan’s eye fell upon him he said: “all our children are of a ruddy complexion, but this child is swarthy like his maternal uncles. Tell Sorqoqtani Beki to give him to a good nurse to be reared.”” -Rashid al-Din/Boyle translation, 241. https://archive.org/details/Boyle1971RashidAlDin/page/n245

To clarify, for those unaware, ruddy means “for a face to have a red colour,” while swarthy is dark-skinned.  Boyle and Thackston’s English translations are highly regarded, and while Boyle’s is considered the more accurate, both provide almost the exact same translation. Rashid al-Din is not saying that Chinggis had red hair, but a reddish face and complexion, perfectly understandable given that he lived his life entirely exposed to the elements: cold wind and exposure affect the capillaries in the face, and many Mongols today who still live as nomads will have quite red cheeks.. The statements that Rashid al-Din describes Chinggis Khan with red hair are therefore false, as he isn’t describing hair but facial complexion. It seems a misreading or mistranslation somewhere along the way turned that line into Chinggis having red hair.

It would not be impossible though for Chinggis to have had red hair. Contrary to some belief, Asians can have light brown, blonde and even red hair naturally. That red won’t be the shade of your stereotypical Irish redhead, but it would be recognizably red. Kazakhs and Kirghiz are well noted for their light haired individuals. A passage from the Secret History of the Mongols is sometimes taken to imply that one of Chinggis’ ancestors, Alan Qo’a, was impregnated by a Kirghiz (Kirghiz armies marched through Mongolia in the 9th century, toppling the Uighur Khaghanate):

“Every night, a resplendent yellow man entered by the smoke hole or the door top of the tent, he rubbed my belly and his radiance penetrated my womb. When he departed, he crept out on a moonbeam or a ray of sun in the guise of a yellow dog.

How can you speak so rashly?

When one understands that, the sign is clear:

They are the sons of Heaven.

How can you speak, comparing them

To ordinary black-headed men?

When they become the rulers of all,

Then the common people will understand!”

The Secret History of the Mongols/ Rachewiltz translation s. 21, pg. 4.

https://cedar.wwu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.youtube.com/&httpsredir=1&article=1003&context=cedarbooks

The ‘yellow man,’ is taken by some to be a man with blonde/light brown/red hair (and therefore a Kirghiz?) in comparison to the ‘ordinary black-headed men’ (i.e, regular Mongols). How literally are we meant to take this passage? It should be noted that Yellow and White were colours associated with holiness and divinity. In some renditions, rather than a Yellow man it is a yellow ray of light which impregnates Alan Qo’a (who for context, was recently widowed and was telling this story to her sons, some of whom were born after her husband’s death). When we remember the importance of eternal Blue Heaven to the Mongols, this can seem to be implying a ‘divine conception,’ rather than literal human being (in some Moghul versions, Chinggis’ mother Hoelun takes the place of Alan Qo’a). How literal the passages in the Secret History are supposed to be taken is a matter of debate, and I would be hesitant to rely on this section heavily for any argument.

In regards to your statement on descriptions of Chinggis Khan’s physical appearance, there are actually a few. Just not from first hand accounts and they are more ‘idealized’ than anything. Generally they describe him as taller and broader than other Mongols, with a long beard (Mongols generally don’t, or can’t, grow beards). “Cat’s Eyes,” are sometimes mentioned, though whether that means he had vertical pupils or they were a colour associated with the colour of cat’s eyes (yellow?) isn’t always included. Rashid al-Din and (I believe) Juvaini mention that Chinggis’ hair turned white during the Khwarezmian campaign, giving him a very regal appearance. Most of these statements are repeated in both Chinese and Persian sources, (such as a Song Dynasty envoy who spoke to those who had seen Chinggis), but these are pretty basic,idealized depictions of kings. Most of the Chinese physical descriptions of Chinggis aren’t dissimilar to their depictions of the first emperor, Qin Shi Huangdi. To them, that’s just what a King looked like! It is notable that it is still rare for a modern depiction of Chinggis Khan to depict him without facial hair. A long beard is often associated with wisdom, masculinity and kingship, and would be natural to depict him with one for medieval chroniclers. In medieval Europe for example, most portraits of Kings (until about the late 14th/15th centuries) were showing  very idealized, general versions of monarchs rather than a specific person’s facial features.

The closest we’ll ever get to Chinggis Khan’s appearance is the late 13th century (generally dated to 1278) portrait from the Yuan Dynasty, made on the orders of Kublai Khan. This image is the basis for most modern artistic representations of Chinggis Khan:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:YuanEmperorAlbumGenghisPortrait.jpg

We see a ruddy (!) faced man, with a long grey beard dressed in a simple white deel. While it is true there were still a few alive who had met Chinggis by the 1270s, it had been 50 years since his death. Half a century is a long time to accurately remember the face of your grandfather when photography doesn’t exist, so it would be best to think of it as an approximation. Kublai was himself about 12 or 13 when Chinggis died, and had likely only met him a few times. This image shows no trace of red hair, and neither do any of the similar Yuan era portraits of Chinggis’ successors, who are generally shown in their younger years.

Personally, I find it extremely doubtful Chinggis had red hair: the medieval sources make no such distinct implication, and one would have to explain why none of the portraits of the Yuan Emperors depict anything other than typical Mongolian features. No source indicates Chinggis Khan looked anything other than a Mongol to his contemporaries. A minority have argued that Chinggis was Caucasian/Tocharian based off Rashid al-Din’s  statements (sometimes even saying long beard: must be a westerner! Asians can’t grow beards!), but as we saw above those statements were misunderstood, and generally come from poor utilization of primary sources.  I believe these opinions also come from self interest, from people wanting to dismiss the Mongols as ‘primitives,’ or not want to admit that their ancestors lost to those ‘orientals,’ and therefore the great Mongol leader was not actually a Mongol. There is no evidence from this period to support such a conclusion, however. Furthermore, even if Chinggis Khan did have red hair, this would not even indicate that he wasn’t Mongolian, as Mongolians can have reddish hair!

[patriotsnet]

Why Do Republicans Oppose The Affordable Care Act

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/why-do-republicans-oppose-the-affordable-care-act/

Why Do Republicans Oppose The Affordable Care Act

Changes Required By The Affordable Care Act In 2014

Will Republicans be able to dismantle the Affordable Care Act?

Health insurance exchanges scheduled to open for 2014 enrollment begin writing policies that go into effect January 1, 2014.

People buying insurance on their own get subsidies to help them pay their monthly insurance premiums. Premiums are allocated on a sliding scale, as determined by income. Any individual earning over 400% of the poverty level does not qualify for subsidies.

When health insurance exchanges are operational, small business tax credits are up to 50% of premiums.

Insurance companies are required to provide health insurance to any adult aged 19 to 64 who applies for coverage.

To prevent people from waiting until they get sick to buy health insurance, the ACA requires all Americans to buy health insurance or pay a fine. The fine starts at $95 for an individual in 2014 and goes up each year until 2016, when the fine is $695 or 2.5% of a persons annual income, whichever is greater.

Pre-Existing Condition Insurance Plans , established in 2010 are scheduled to expire on January 1, 2014 once all major ACA reforms go into effect.

Rep Pete Stauber Of Minnesota

The freshman flipped a longtime Democratic seat;in northeast Minnesota that Trump had carried by 16 points in 2016. Its a largely white, working-class district, where Trumps populist appeal resonated. The former Duluth police officer ran a campaign ad last year about his son Issac, who has Down syndrome, and he talked about the importance of insurance companies covering pre-existing conditions. Democrats are not targeting this seat in 2020. Inside Elections rates the race Likely Republican.

Even Conservatives Call Aca Case ‘absurd’

This is just one of many absurdities that have caused even conservative legal experts like Jonathan Adler,;who backed previous challenges to the ACA, to call this case absurd. But the absurdity is the point.

The point has always been to deny Americans the health insurance that was secured for them when the ACA was signed into law. And Republicans have been remarkably successful at this.

How Dems can beat Trump on health:;Focus on high costs and economic security

Thanks to a 2012 Supreme Court ruling that made Medicaid expansion optional instead of required, 14 states have turned it down. This;has;left an estimated 2.5 Americans without coverage that these states pay for anyway.

As Medicaid expansion has proved popular even in red states, Republicans have adopted another poison pill in the form of bureaucratic requirements to prove that recipients are working. These burdens could leave up to;800,000 additional Americans uninsured, which would match the covered by Medicaid and the Children’s Health;Insurance Program;in 2018 alone.;

Also Check: When Did Republicans And Democrats Switch Platforms

What Did Trump Say About Obamacare

President Trump has been actively trying to repeal the healthcare law since he campaigned for the 2016 presidential election.

The Trump administration asked the Supreme Court to revoke Obamacare because it’s been an “unlawful failure.”

A brief filed in June asked the court to strike down the Affordable Care Act, arguing it became invalid after Congress axed parts of it.

Speaker Nancy Pelosi said: “President Trump and the Republicans campaign to rip away the protections and benefits of the Affordable Care Act in the middle of the coronavirus crisis is an act of unfathomable cruelty.

“If President Trump gets his way, 130 million Americans with pre-existing conditions will lose the ACAs lifesaving protections and 23 million Americans will lose their health coverage entirely.

“There is no legal justification and no moral excuse for the Trump Administrations disastrous efforts to take away Americans health care.”

Republicans also argue that some people are better off without Obamacare due to the fact that it does not cover those who need it most.

According to the provisions, people who earn just slightly too much to qualify for federal premium subsidies, particularly early retirees and people in their 50s and early 60s who are self-employed are not covered.

Trump endorsed a replacement to Obamacare in 2017 but fell short of passing the Republican-controlled Congress.

Democrats Must Try Harder To Cover People

The November elections, when Democrats won the House by the largest popular-vote margin in the history of American midterms, marked the first time Republicans paid a real cost for their efforts to suffocate the ACA.;And while Democrats are united in defense of the law, theyve never been as ruthless in the pursuit of covering Americans as Republicans are in their lust to uninsure them.

Michigans new governor, Gretchen Whitmer, has a chance to save about;70,000 people from the useless work requirements signed into law by her Republican predecessor.;Yet she hasnt acted. And the three states with the largest populations that could benefit from Medicaid expansion are also three of the nations key or emerging swing states Texas, Florida and Georgia.

A Harvard study of the Massachusetts law that served as the model for the ACA;found one life saved for each 830 people gaining insurance. This;means if Republicans in Congress had finished off the law they’ve;spent a decade vowing to kill, they would have put thousands of lives at risk.

But thats the genius of the GOPs focus on the courts. With an appointment that lasts a lifetime, you dont have to worry about the consequences of leaving 20 million uninsured. And if it works for the ACA, watch out. Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security and any program conservatives have long reviled but lacked the audacity to repeal could be next.

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Republican View On Healthcare

Republicans take pretty much the opposite view of Democrats. Traditionally dedicated to the notion that less government is better government, and the free market makes adjustments on its own without regulation, the party has fought every reform the Democrats have enacted. Much of this comes down to their traditional diametrically opposed notions of what is best for Americans. Citing freedom of choice and the sacrosanct doctor-patient relationship, predicting huge losses to the economy in general, arguing that the ACA doesnt work despite years of evidence to the contrary, the GOP would rather scrap it and go with the status quo as it stood before the ACA was passed. Their key phrase is Why should healthy people pay more to cover sick and poor people?

Looking to make a difference? Consider signing one of these sponsored petitions:*Rantt Media may receive compensation from the partners we feature on our site. However, this in no way affects our news coverage, analysis, or political 101’s.

Whats Dividing Republicans And Democrats On Healthcare Reform

Since the Affordable Care Act became law in 2010, Republicans have been determined to destroy it while Democrats insist its the countrys best chance at reforming healthcare to make it affordable and accessible. Both parties want reform, but the approach has been fundamentally different and for good reason. There are basic, core reasons why conservatives and liberals cant get on the same page when it comes to healthcare reform.;Lets take a moment to dig into the details and figure out what is exactly keeping Republicans and Democrats from being able to find a middle ground on healthcare reform, so far.

Democrats want the federal government to legislate and administer healthcare while Republicans want private industry to helm the healthcare system with as minimal input from the federal government as possible.

Of course, there are always exceptions within each party because people arent one-dimensional. Moderates on both sides, for instance, would seek compromise wherever possible. But in general, these core ideological differences make healthcare reform particularly challenging, especially when one party holds more power. In 2010, Democrats passed the ACA without a single rightwing vote.

Also Check: Do Any House Republicans Support Impeachment

House Republicans Vote To Sue Obama

Republicans in Washington insist they arent planning to impeach President Obama any time soonbut did just get one step closer to suing him.

Just before lawmakers go home for the five-week August recess, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives voted Wednesday evening to authorize Speaker John Boehner, R-Ohio, to file a lawsuit on behalf of the House of Representatives against the president for delaying implementation of the Affordable Care Act.

The vote was 225-201, with every Democrat voting against the lawsuit as well as five conservative Republicans who felt the suit didnt go far enough and preferred impeachment.

The lawsuit itself is expected to fail once it reaches the inside of a courtroom, but the politics of the impending lawsuit raged Wednesday and will continue to in the months leading up to the November midterm elections.

The partisan battle andand the talking pointsover the lawsuit was on full display during the debate on the House floor before the vote. Democrats variously called the lawsuit a political stunt, a gimmick, and a sorry spectacle of legislative malpractice intended to appease the conservative base of the Republican Party before the midterm elections in November.

Groups Opposing The American Health Care Act

The American Health Care Act: A Republican Response to The Affordable Care Act

Over 50 organizations oppose the proposed healthcare plan that will make Americans will pay more for less.;The list includes nurses, doctors, hospitals, teachers, churches, and more. You can see a few here:;

AARP: AARP opposes this legislation, as introduced, that would weaken Medicare, leaving the door open to a voucher program that shifts costs and risks to seniors.

Before people even reach retirement age, big insurance companies could be allowed to charge them an age tax that adds up to thousands of dollars more per year. Older Americans need affordable health care services and prescriptions. This plan goes in the opposite direction, increasing insurance premiums for older Americans and not doing anything to lower drug costs.

On top of the hefty premium increase for consumers, big drug companies and other special interests get a sweetheart deal.

Finally, Medicaid cuts could impact people of all ages and put at risk the health and safety of 17.4 million children and adults with disabilities and seniors by eliminating much-needed services that allow individuals to live independently in their homes and communities. Although no one believes the current health care system is perfect, this harmful legislation would make health care less secure and less affordable.

AARP stands ready to work with both parties on legislation that puts Americans first, not the special interests.

That just wont do.

That is, above all, why physicians must be involved in this debate.

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When Did Obamacare Start

The timeline of key events leading up to the passage of the Obamacare law began in 2009. Here is a list of those events, along with key provisions that went into place after the law was enacted.

Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and a group of Democrats from the House of Representatives reveal their plan for overhauling the health-care system. Its called H.R. 3962, the Affordable Health Care for America Act.

;Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy, a leading supporter of health-care reform, dies and puts the Senate Democrats 60-seat supermajority required to pass a piece of legislation at risk.

;Democrat Paul Kirk is appointed interim senator from Massachusetts, which temporarily restores the Democrats filibuster-proof 60th vote.

;In the House of Representatives, 219 Democrats and one Republican vote for the Affordable Health Care for America Act, and 39 Democrats and 176 Republicans vote against it.

In the Senate, 60 Democrats vote for the Senates version of the bill, called Americas Healthy Future Act, whose lead author is senator Max Baucus of California. Thirty-nine Republicans vote against the bill, and one Republican senator, Jim Bunning, does not vote.

Who Voted For Affordable Care Act

Question: Who voted for Affordable Care Act?

Answer: The Affordable Care Act was signed into law by President Obama;on March 23, 2010. ;Before becoming the law, there were 219 House of Representatives that voted in favor of the Affordable Care Act. ; Below is a complete list of House of Representatives that voted in favor of Affordable Care Act: ;There was not a single Republican representative that was in favor of the Affordable Care Act.

AR

Read Also: Why Did Republicans Lose The Election

Democrats Republicans And Your Health Insurance

Shereen Lehman, MS, is a healthcare journalist and fact checker.;She has co-authored two books for the popular Dummies Series .

Healthcare reform has been a contentious political topic in the U.S. for many years, and is shaping up to play a major role in the 2020 presidential and congressional elections. What does each party want? Let’s take a look at how the priorities of the Democratic Party and the Republican Party;could impact your health insurance.

Republicans Really Hate Health Care

Theyve gone beyond cynicism to pathology.

By Paul Krugman

Opinion Columnist

Of all the political issues that divide us, health care is the one with the greatest impact on ordinary Americans lives. If Democrats hadnt managed to pass the Affordable Care Act, around 20 million fewer Americans would have health insurance than currently do. If Republican-controlled states hadnt refused to expand Medicaid and generally done as little as possible to support the act, national progress might have tracked progress in, say, California so another 7 or 8 million people might have coverage.

You obviously know where I stand on this political divide. But Im starting to believe that I misjudged Republican motives.

You see, I thought their behavior was cynical and strategic: They opposed Obamacare because they thought there was political mileage in scaring people about change, and also in denying Obama any successes. Oh, and their donors really hated the taxes on the rich that pay for the ACAs subsidies. And right up through 2016 they could hope to convince voters that they had a secret plan for something much better than Obamacare.

Indeed, all of these things surely played a role in GOP health care strategy. But at this point theyve clearly lost the political argument. In 2017, Republican attempts to repeal Obamacare made it clear to everyone that their party didnt have any better ideas, and never did; everything they proposed would have devastated the lives of millions.

Read Also: What State Has The Most Republicans

Attempts To Change Or Repeal

Read Ballotpedias fact check »

The Affordable Care Act was subject to a number of lawsuits challenging some of its provisions, such as the individual mandate and the requirement to cover contraception. Four of these lawsuits were heard by the United States Supreme Court, resulting in changes to the law and how it was enforced. In addition, since the laws enactment, lawmakers in Congress have introduced and considered legislation to modify or repeal parts or all of the Affordable Care Act. Finally, between 2010 and 2012, voters in eight states considered ballot measures related to the law. This section summarizes the lawsuits, legislation, and state ballot measures that attempted to change, repeal, or impact enforcement of parts of the law.

Read Also: Did Republicans Shut Down The Government

A Conundrum: Majority Of Republican Voters Want To Overturn Aca But Keep Protections For People With Pre

The latest KFF Health Tracking Poll revealed a stark contrast in opinion on two questions about the current challenge to the Affordable Care Act facing the U.S. Supreme Court. Since it was enacted in 2010 by President Obama, the ACA, sometimes known as Obamacare, has been opposed by Republicans and favored by Democrats, but many of the benefits it provides are popular across parties. One of the most popular provisions of the law is that it protects people with pre-existing medical conditions from being denied coverage or having to pay more for coverage. A large majority of voters, across political party identification, say they do not want the Court to overturn the ACAs protections for people with pre-existing conditions, but there are strong partisan differences on attitudes towards overturning the entire ACA. Two-thirds of Republican voters say they do not want the ACAs protections for people with pre-existing conditions to be overturned, while three-quarters of Republican voters say they do want to see the ACA itself overturned.

Figure 1: Majorities Do Not Want Court To Overturn ACAs Pre-Existing Condition Protections, Republicans Want Entire Law Overturned

Figure 2: About Half Of Republican Voters Want To See The Supreme Court Overturn The Entire ACA, Not Protections For Pre-Existing Conditions

Figure 3: Republican Voters Say President Trump Has A Plan To Protect People With Pre-Existing Conditions

Topics

Also Check: What Will Happen If Republicans Win

Changes Required By The Affordable Care Act In 2011

A provision goes into effect to protect patients choice of doctors. Specifics include allowing plan members to pick any participating primary care provider, prohibiting insurers from requiring prior authorization before a woman sees an obstetrician/gynecologist , and ensuring access to emergency care.

Young adults can stay on their parents insurance until age 26, even if they are not full-time students. This extension applies to all new plans.

All new health insurance policies must cover preventive care and pay a portion of all preventive care visits.

A provision goes into effect that eliminates lifetime limits on coverage for members.

Annual limits or maximum payouts by a health insurance company are now restricted by the ACA.

The ACA prohibits rescission when a claim is filed, except in the case of fraud or misrepresentation by the consumer.

Insurance companies must now provide a process for customers to make an appeal if there is a problem with their coverage. ;

NOTE: In January,;2011:;eHealth publishes 11 guides on the top;child-only health insurance coverage;that examined differences in implementation in numerous states.

Obama And Trump Healthcare Policies Compared

Senate Republicans Come Out To Oppose Healthcare Bill

There could not be a more radical divide between administrations than there is between these two. The Obama administration worked against almost insurmountable opposition from the GOP in order to pass the ACA. The Trump Administrations quest is to dismantle everything the Obama Administration has done. They even have court cases pending in order to do so.

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[septenii-a-blog]

AU VERSE ;; MINT EYE SAEYOUNG ;; LEAVE ME TO THE WOLVES

I’m still working out some details but this is the basis of it. Under the cut because this got a bit longer than I intended.

Saeyoung planned for his life to go differently. He began reading books on coding, intent on escaping his abusive home life and eventually rescuing his twin brother. But one night illness strikes his already weak brother. 

Saeran became violently ill and their mother was entirely dismissive. She refused to bring him to a doctor, angrily locking the boys in their room before going to sleep. However sneaking out was something Saeyoung had become good at. Worried only for his brother’s well being, Saeyoung snuck his brother out of the house and carried him to the church. Since churches are often safe havens, they rarely lock their doors so that those in need might find shelter. Saeyoung was betting on it. 

Once safely inside the church, Saeyoung laid his brother out on a pew and began hunting through the building. The people he’d met here, Rika and her boyfriend V, volunteered here so he figured he could find some kind of information about them. He managed to find their contact information and made a call to them in the middle of the night. While he waited for them to come, he tended to his brother with supplies he scrounged up. 

When they arrived, he begged them to take Saeran away. Contrary to their original plans to get Saeyoung out, he wanted them to take Saeran. Saeyoung feared he might die without medical help. The three made a plan for Saeran. Rika and V would take him to the hospital, to a private doctor, signing him in under a fake name and claiming that he’s a runaway. Saeyoung would stay behind, placate their mother who would surely want to know what happened to her son for her own selfish reasons. He would make sure she didn’t go after him. 

On the other side, Saeran was taken care of by Rika and V, who then got him into school and away from his mother. The only condition was that the twins could never contact each other. As far as Saeran was concerned, he had no family to speak of. Any contact might lead to either of their parents connecting the twins. Their father could finally find them or their mother might come after the runaway twin. So the brothers split up. Saeran goes on to join the RFA and Saeyoung stays behind.

(work in progress idea)Years later, the Choi mother finds some kind of evidence of Saeran’s existence and intends to go after him and get him back. Saeyoung, unable to let this happens, kills their mother. Or perhaps Rika is still the one to do it with Saeyoung as a witness. 

Eventually, Rika takes Saeyoung away from his home, just as she did with Saeran in canon. And for a while, they live happily. Until Rika’s break from reality. She inducts him into Mint Eye, intends to drug and brain wash him. She tries to instill the idea that Saeyoung sacrificed his own chance at freedom to save his brother, and yet Saeran never once thought of him after he left. He abandoned Saeyoung, completely forgot about him and left him behind. And while the feeling of being abandoned did begin to manifest in Saeyoung, his anger was more so directed at the outside world rather than at his brother. His protective instinct, his desires to protect him and give up everything in order to keep him safe still lingers in the back of his mind and makes him unable to put the blame solely on his brother. He’s not as easily manipulated as Saeran in canon. 

Still, he lives at Mint Eye, goes along with everything Rika does. He’s angry and hurting, he wants peace and maybe Rika can provide it. She is after all the one who took him away from his home, the one who got his brother out. He owes her that much. Still, in her decision to bring the RFA to paradise, Saeyoung is determined to protect his brother no matter the cost. So while he’s obedient to Rika, he quietly rebels against her. He’ll help her destroy the world if that’s what she wants, but he will never let her touch Saeran. 

Additional points

After Saeran’s disappearance, their mother turned all of her abuse on Saeyoung. He was forbidden from leaving the house after that point. He did continue studying on his own and going to church however. 

Saeyoung maintains the name Luciel. But instead of a reminder to not become a fallen figure, it’s a label for the fallen angel he already is. He believes himself cast out by God, a sinner with no room for redemption. 

Saeyoung in this verse is the dark sort. He’s cynical, generally angry, and sadistic. But most of all, he’s filled with self loathing. 

He would rather kill Saeran than let Rika have him. In the worst case scenario, he plans to kill his brother and then himself if there’s no other way out. 

He’s also admitted to wanting to kill Rika, to her as well. She believes him incapable, because he’s loyal to her, her loving disciple but still a rebellious teenager at heart. Saeyoung would argue that it’s only because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He is both loyal and defiant, unable to break away from Mint Eye but unwilling to submit himself entirely. 

His main goal in the course of the game plot is to run Saeran out of the RFA before he finds out what’s really going on and to protect him from Rika.

While Saeran had his garden at Mint Eye, Saeyoung has an observatory. Instead of flowers, he’s interested in space and often spends nights mapping the stars.

Saeyoung occasionally takes the elixir of his own free will. Like any drug, it becomes a way to disassociate and forget. 

[theliterateape]

Grappling with Postmodernism in a Post-Trump America

by Don Hall

“...modernism is the assertion that truth can be known definitively. Postmodernism is the assertion that truth can never be known definitively; it can only be guessed at and approximated, at best.” - Mark Manson

Remember, back in the good old days before the country elected the most improbably unelectable bully with the propensity to lie about, well, fucking everything, when Stephen Colbert made the satirical argument about “truthiness”? How we all laughed?

Truthiness is the belief or assertion that a particular statement is true based on the intuition or perceptions of some individual or individuals, without regard to evidence, logic, intellectual examination, or facts.

At the time this was Colbert’s comic take on postmodernism. It is now not quite so funny because those on the fringes of our body politic are full-on postmodernists without the wink of isn’t this kind of ridiculous?

The entire Trump strategy of contesting the election is postmodernist. “We believe there was voter fraud so it must be there.” Never mind a lack of evidence. That predisposed intuition is enough to launch investigations and lawsuits and, whether any evidence is found, the gut assertion will be embedded.

Modernism came around during the Enlightenment. Modernists argued that our understanding of reality could be improved upon through experimentation, observation, and reason. It arose as a response to the superstitions and control of the Church and placed science and quantifiable data as a replacement for faith.

Postmodernism was faith fighting back. Absent of a tether to a god or religious dogma, it simply posited that nothing was really true and that science is merely a tool for subjective focus. Tear down science and collected data and all you have left is faith.

The 75 million plus who voted Blue in this election are socialist.

The 71 million plus who voted Red in this election are racist.

Joe Biden is a Trojan horse for the Extreme Left.

Donald Trump was a dictator.

Zoomers just live in their parents’ basements and loot at any chance.

Boomers are greedy, angry supporters of caging immigrant children.

All white people are racist.

All black people are violent.

All men are fundamentally misogynist.

All women are fundamentally misandrist.

Twitter is an accurate reflection of the vast plurality of opinions.

None of these statements is rooted in fact. All smack of ‘truthiness.’

The #NotAll_____ responses to postmodern hashtags are not an agreement to the contrary but a another way of saying Generalizations are mostly bullshit.

In a recent Literate ApeCast, with guest Peter Kremidas, the question was whether or not politics are fundamentally emotional. Of course, I argued that it should not be but failed to recognize that, in a postmodernist view, politics has to be based upon emotion and lived experience. In a postmodernist worldview, emotion and political activism are irrevocably intertwined.

Donald Trump should’ve been repudiated but he most certainly was not. He lost the election but by a slim margin (four million votes equals a whopping 1.25% of the population which ain’t much no matter how you slice it and definitely not a repudiation). Trumpism is still alive and well and the only aspect of our cultural and political climate equal in postmodern practice to that is the Woke Cult. Both truck in ‘lived experience,’ anecdotal evidence over data, and a belief that their belief is enough to be their truth as opposed to the truth.

Both rely almost entirely in suspension of rationality for the raw emotion so easily fooled.

“Stop the count except for the states I’m ahead in” is only slightly different logic than “White people who deny their racism are too fragile to acknowledge it.”

Sure, social media has exacerbated this postmodern truthiness but we’re mostly grown ass adults and are wholly responsible for our own perspectives.

I remember in the early days of the pandemic (what was that — last week?) when those predisposed to believe the whole thing was a hoax and eagerly lapping up the cat vomit of faux scientists claiming it to be so. When asked why I thought it was real, I always answered exactly the same way: “I listen to the consensus of credible scientists on the matter. That consensus of credible scientists indicates the pandemic is real and will have real consequences should we ignore it.”

I think, after staring in awe at what I used to label mouthbreathing stupidity, I understand the rise of this adherence to postmodern thought: it feels like religion without a deity. One can feel virtuous, understood, and supported by a community of like-minded believers by buying into the self affirmation that one need not listen to expertise but ‘go with your gut’ and let the chips fall.

The postmodernist wants to believe that a Trump voter is racist and sexist. A modernist looks at the data, sees that prior to the 2016 election four million manufacturing jobs were eliminated in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Michigan to be replaced by industrial automation. And those voters cast their ballots for the candidate who want to “Make America Great” rather than the one who told them “America is already great.”

A postmodernist boils whole systems and groups into easily digestible categories. A modernist understands how complicated people are and does some research to find context. Context is the garlic to the postmodernist vampire.

I know our education system needs attention and so many of us are reticent to do any sort of homework but in a media landscape where one can type in “Weight Loss Techniques” into a search field and receive hundreds of thousands of conflicting, contradictory ideas, maybe some homework is exactly what is necessary.

A couple of rules of thumb I’ve learned to follow in the past four or five years:

If I read it on social media, best to assume it’s bullshit.

If the belief is not backed up by data, it’s bullshit.

If a politician says it without supporting evidence, it’s bullshit.

If it’s full of ‘buzzwords’ (intersectionality, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, TERF, fragility), it’s bullshit.

Anything boiled down to a hashtag carries sacks of bullshit in it’s wake.

Example: This week Secretary of State Pompeo was asked about the transition from Trump to Biden. His exact words were:

‘There Will Be a Smooth Transition…to a Second Trump Administration’

Of course, the media went apeshit. It was another example of corruption, of evil, of obstruction. So I went and watched the video. He was obviously making a joke. Not a great joke given the circumstances but it’s very apparent his comment was tongue-in-cheek.

I’m a modernist. Why not join me and stop being lead by your emotional need for faith? To grapple with postmodernism one must acknowledge what a crock of bullshit it is and then recognize the signs that you are following that perspective like the lunatic fringe.

Then do some fucking research. Christ, we have the most sophisticated information technology in history, so you have no excuse.

[newstfionline]

What If America Hadn’t Done the Dumbest Things Imaginable After 9/11?

By Danny Sjursen, TomDispatch, November 29, 2017

“Of all manifestations of power, restraint impresses men most.”--Thucydides

You’ve heard the platitude that hindsight is 20/20. It’s true enough and, though I’ve been a regular skeptic about what policymakers used to call the Global War on Terror, it’s always easier to poke holes in the past than to say what you would have done. My conservative father was the first to ask me what exactly I would have suggested on September 12, 2001, and he’s pressed me to write this article for years. The supposed rub is this: under the pressure of that attack and the burden of presidential responsibility, even “liberals”--like me, I guess--would have made much the same decisions as George W. Bush and company.

Many readers may cringe at the thought, but former National Security Adviser and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice has to be taken seriously when she suggests that anyone in the White House on 9/11 would inevitably have seen the world through the lens of the Bush administration. I’ve long argued that just about every Bush-era policy that followed 9/11 was an unqualified disaster. Nevertheless, it remains important to ponder the weight piled upon a president in the wake of unprecedented terror attacks. What would you have done? What follows is my best crack at that thorny question, 16 years after the fact, and with the accumulated experiences of combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Taking It Personally. 9/11 was an intimate affront to me. It hit home hard. I watched those towers in my hometown burn on televisions I could glimpse from my plebe (freshman) boxing class at West Point. My father worked across Church Street from Manhattan’s World Trade Center. Only hours later did I learn that he’d safely escaped on the last ferryboat to Staten Island. Two uncles--both New York City firemen--hopelessly dug for comrades in the rubble for weeks. Stephen, the elder of the two, identified the body of his best friend, Captain Marty Egan, just days after the attacks.

In blue-collar Staten Island neighborhoods like mine, everyone seemed to work for the city: cops, firemen, corrections officers, garbage men, transit workers. I knew several of each. My mother spent months attending wakes and funerals. Suddenly, tons of streets on the Island were being renamed for dead police and firefighters, some of whom I knew personally. Me, I continued to plod along through the typically trying life of a new cadet at West Point.

It’s embarrassing now to look back at my own immaturity. I listened in as senior cadets broke the news of war to girlfriends and fiancées, enviously hanging on every word. If only I, too, could live out the war drama I’d always longed for. Less than two years later, I found myself drunk with another uncle--and firefighter--in a New York pub on St. Patrick’s Day. This was back when an Army T-shirt or a fireman’s uniform meant a night of free drinks in that post-9/11 city. I watched the television screen covetously as President Bush delivered a final, 48-hour ultimatum to Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. I inhaled, wished for a long war, and gazed at the young, attractive lead singer of the band performing in that pub. She was wearing a patron’s tied-up New York Fire Department uniform blouse with a matching cap cocked to the side. It was meant to be sexy and oh-so-paramilitary. It might seem unbelievable now, but that was still my--and largely our--world on March 17, 2003.

By the time I got my “chance” to join America’s war on terror, in October 2006, Baghdad was collapsing into chaos as civil war raged and U.S. deaths were topping 100 per month. This second lieutenant still hoped for glory, even as the war’s purpose was already slipping ever further away. I never found it (glory, that is). Not in Iraq or, years later, in Afghanistan. Sixteen years and two months on from 9/11, I’m a changed man, inhabiting a forever altered reality. Two wars, two marriages, and so many experiences later, the tragedy and the mistakes seem so obvious. Perhaps we should have known all along. But most didn’t.

How to Lose A War (Hint: Fight It!) From the beginning, the rhetoric, at least, was over the top. Three days after those towers tumbled, President George W. Bush framed the incredible scope of what he’d instantly taken to calling a “war.” As he told the crowd at a Washington national prayer service, “Our responsibility to history is already clear: to answer these attacks and rid the world of evil.” From the first, it seemed evident to the president: America’s target wasn’t anything as modest as the al-Qaeda terrorist network, but rather evil itself. Looking back, this was undoubtedly the original sin. Call something--in this case, the response to the acts of a small jihadist group--a “war” and sooner or later everyone begins acting like warriors.

Within 24 hours of the attacks, the potential target list was already expanding beyond Osama bin Laden and his modest set of followers. On September 12th, President Bush commanded his national counterterror coordinator, Richard Clarke, to “see if Saddam did this... look into Iraq, Saddam.” That night, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld told the president and the entire cabinet, “You know, we’ve got to do Iraq... There just aren’t enough targets in Afghanistan... We need to bomb something else to prove that we’re, you know, big and strong...”

Nonetheless, Afghanistan--and its Taliban rulers--became the first military target. Bombs were dropped and commandos infiltrated. CIA spooks distributed briefcases of cash to allied warlords and eventually city after city fell. Sure, Osama bin Laden escaped and many of the Taliban’s foot soldiers simply faded away, but it was still one hell of a lightning campaign. Expected to be brief, it was given the bold name Operation Enduring Freedom and, to listen to the rhetoric of the day, it revolutionized warfare. Only it didn’t, of course. Instead, the focus was soon lost, other priorities (Iraq!) sucked the resources away, venal warlords reigned, an insurgency developed, and... and 16 years later, American troop levels are once again increasing there.

Over the days, the months, and then the years that followed, the boundaries of the Global War on Terror both hardened and expanded. In his January 2002 State of the Union address, President Bush ominously included Iraq, along with Iran and North Korea (though he left out “liberated” Afghanistan), in what he called “an axis of evil.” Who cared, by then, that none of those countries had had anything to do with the 9/11 attacks? In a flash the president conflated all three in the public mind, ultimately constructing a self-fulfilling prophecy. Saddam would be toppled and Iraq occupied 15 months later and, had it not been for the ensuing chaos, Iran and North Korea might have been next. Unsurprisingly, both countries intensified their bellicosity and grew all the more interested in nuclear weapons programs.

So much followed the 9/11 attacks that it’s no small thing to sum up: the Patriot Act, warrantless domestic wiretapping, Guantánamo, Abu Ghraib, a Taliban resurgence, an Iraqi civil war, drones as global assassins, the Arab Spring, the overthrow of Libyan autocrat Muammar Gaddafi and the collapse of his country, the Syrian bloodbath, the worst refugee crisis since World War II, and that’s just to begin a list.

In short, U.S. policies have left the Middle East in chaos: perhaps a million dead, Iran empowered, and radical Islamists resurgent. Meanwhile, this country has become a garrison state, forever at war, its military budget doubled, its populace seemingly indifferent, and its warrior caste shattered--physically and mentally. Sixteen years have passed and Washington is no closer to its goal (whatever that was). Retired general David Petraeus, our nation’s prodigal “hero,” has now ominously labeled the Afghan War (and by implication the rest of the war on terror) a “generational struggle.”

Few, to be honest, even remember the purpose of it all. Keep in mind that Army recruits today were perhaps two years old on 9/11.

Lost Opportunities. It didn’t have to be this way. Nothing about it was predetermined. Much of the necessary information--certainly the warning signs of what was going to happen that September 11th--were already there. If, that is, one cared to look. History is contingent, human beings have agency, and events result from innumerable individual decisions. The CIA, the FBI, and even the Bush administration knew (or should have known, anyway) that an attack of some sort was coming.

As the 9/11 commission report painfully detailed, none of those agencies collaborated in a meaningful way when it came to preventing that day’s attacks. Still, there were warnings ignored and voices in the dark. When Richard Clarke, counterterror czar and a Clinton administration holdover, requested through official channels to deliver an emergency briefing for Bush’s key foreign policy officials, it took four months just to arrange an audience with their deputies. Four more months elapsed before President Bush received a briefing titled, “Bin Laden determined to strike the U.S.” Unimpressed, Bush quickly responded to the briefer: “All right... you’ve covered your ass now.”

Barely more than a month later, the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were burning.

Whatever else it did, 9/11 presented the United States with an opportunity, a Robert Frost-like fork in a divergent path. And we Americans promptly took the road most traveled: militarism, war, vengeance--the easy wrong path. A broad war, waged against a noun, “terror,” a “global” conflict that, from its first moments, looked suspiciously binary: Western versus Islamic (despite Bush’s pleas to the contrary). In the process, al-Qaeda’s (and then ISIS’s) narratives were bolstered.

There was--there always is--another path. Imagine if President Bush and his foreign policy team had paused, taken a breath, and demonstrated some humility and restraint before plunging the country into what would indeed become a war or set of wars. There were certainly questions begging to be asked and answered that never received a proper hearing. Why did al-Qaeda attack us? Was there any merit in their grievances? How did bin Laden want us to respond and how could we have avoided just such a path? Finally, which were the best tools and tactics to respond with? Let’s consider these questions and imagine an alternative response.

Why They (Really) Hated Us. Americans and their government were inclined to accept the most simplistic explanation for the terror attacks of 9/11. As George W. Bush would assure us all, Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda just “hate us for our freedoms.” The end.

Something about the guilelessness of that explanation, which was the commonplace one of that moment, never quite seemed right. Human motivations and actions are almost always more complex, more multifaceted, less simpleminded than that. While Bush boiled it all down to “Islamic” fundamentalism, even a cursory look at bin Laden’s written declaration of “war”--or as he called it, jihad--demonstrates that his actual focus was far more secular and less explicitly religious than was suggested at the time. Couched between Koranic verses, bin Laden listed three all-too-worldly grievances with America:

* The U.S. military had occupied bases in the vicinity of Saudi Arabia’s holy sites of Mecca and Medina. (Well... that had indeed been the case, at least since 1990, if not earlier.)

* U.S.-imposed sanctions on Iraq had caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi children. (This was, in fact, a reality that even Secretary of State Madeleine Albright awkwardly acknowledged.)

* America’s leaders had long favored Israeli interests to the detriment of Palestinian wellbeing or national aspirations. (A bit simplistic, but true enough. One could, in fact, stock several bookshelves with respected works substantiating bin Laden’s claim on this point.)

None of this faintly justified the mass murder of civilians in New York and Washington. Nonetheless, at that moment, an honest analysis of an adversary’s motives would have been prudent. It might have warned us of the political landscape that bin Laden was beckoning us--in his own bloody, apocalyptic fashion--to enter. In addition, as journalist Stephen Glain astutely observed, “By obscuring the real motives behind the attacks, Bush relieved the U.S. government of any responsibility for them.” This was a fatal error. While the overwhelming majority of Arabs and Muslims worldwide did not approve of bin Laden’s methods or his theology, much of his critique of Washington’s Middle Eastern policies was widely shared in the region.

Avoiding the Al-Qaeda Script. Al-Qaeda’s leadership knew this perfectly well and they dangled it (and their suicidal acts) as a kind of bait, yearning for the sort of conventional U.S. military response that they knew would further inflame the Greater Middle East. Even in 1996, when journalist Abdul Bari Atwan interviewed bin Laden, the Saudi militant had expressed the desire to “bring the Americans into a fight on Muslim soil.” Only then, bin Laden surmised, could al-Qaeda buttress its argument, win converts from the apathetic Muslim masses, and--hopefully--bankrupt the United States in the bargain.

Suppose, for a moment, that President Bush had taken the high road, a path of restraint focused on twin tracks. First, he might have addressed broadly-shared Arab grievances, pledging a more balanced approach to the question of Israel and Palestine in his still-fresh administration, tailoring Iraq’s sanctions to target Saddam and his cronies rather than innocent citizens, and vowing to review the necessity of military bases so close to Mecca and Medina (or even the necessity of so many of the American bases that littered the region). He could have followed that with lethal, precise, targeted action by America’s intelligence, law enforcement, and Special Operations forces to hunt down and kill or capture the men actually responsible for 9/11, al-Qaeda’s leadership.

This manhunt needed to be ferocious yet measured in order to avoid the very quagmires that, 16 years later, we all know so well. Allies and adversaries would have had to be consulted and cautioned. Remember that, although al-Qaeda was disciplined and effective, on September 12, 2001, it remained diminutive in size and utterly marginal in its regional support. Dismantling its networks and bringing the true criminals of that day to justice never required remaking distant societies or occupying fragile nation-states with conventional military forces.

And keep in mind that such thinking about the situation isn’t purely retrospective. Take the Nation magazine’s Jonathan Schell. That October, after the invasion of Afghanistan had begun, appearing on the Charlie Rose show he called for “police work” and “commando raids,” but not war. He then prophetically observed:

“I think the question doesn’t revolve so much around the justification for war but about its wisdom, and I know that’s the question for me. I know that, from my point of view, terrorism is chiefly a political issue and secondarily a police issue and then, only in a very minor way, can it be addressed by military means and I think that, on the contrary, the war we’re fighting now will tend to worsen our problems. The question I ask myself is, at the end of the day, do you have more terrorists or do you have fewer and I think... today, right now, it looks like there are going to be more.”

Of course, at the time, just about no one in this country was listening to such voices.

A prudent president might also have learned from his father. Just as George H.W. Bush had meticulously constructed a broad international coalition, including all-important Arab states, to dislodge Saddam Hussein’s military from Kuwait in the Persian Gulf War, George W. Bush could have harnessed widespread international sympathy after the 9/11 attacks to blaze a judicious path. A new, broad, U.N.-backed coalition, which ought to have included several Muslim-majority nations, could have shared intelligence, rooted out jihadis (who represented a serious threat to most secular Arab regimes), and ultimately discredited al-Qaeda, dismantling its networks and bringing bin Laden himself to justice.

The Right Tools. Global sympathy--Russian President Vladimir Putin was the first world leader to call George Bush after the attacks--is as rare as it is fleeting. So that moment represented a singular and singularly squandered opportunity. The United States could have led a massive international effort, emphasizing law enforcement, not warfare, and including increased humanitarian aid, U.N.-sponsored peacekeeping operations, and a commitment to live America’s purported values by scrupulously avoiding crimes like torture and civilian casualties. Of course, it wouldn’t have been perfect--complex operations seldom are--but sober strategy demanded a rigorous effort.

One more imperative for the new campaign against al-Qaeda would have been garnering broad support and a legal sanction from Congress and the American people. Two weeks after 9/11, President Bush vapidly suggested instead that this country’s citizens should respond by getting in airplanes again and “enjoy[ing] America’s great destination spots. Get down to Disney World in Florida.” Instead, he might have steeled the population for a tough fight and inspired a new era of public service. Think: John F. Kennedy. Think: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” Bush might have requested from Congress a narrow, targeted authorization for the use of military force rather than the rushed, expansive, open-ended sanction he actually demanded and received and that is still being used two administrations later to justify any acts against any group or country across the Greater Middle East and Africa.

He could have followed this with the presentation of a new National Service Act, rallying the young and incentivizing military or Peace Corps enlistment, infrastructure improvement, inner-city teaching, and various other kinds of public service. Imagine a new “Greatest Generation,” pulling together in a time of crisis. This, in retrospect, was a real opportunity. What a pity that it never came to pass.

It’s hard to know, of course, how such an alternate path might have played out, but honestly it would have been difficult to do worse. The U.S. remains stuck, spinning its wheels in regional conflicts and feeling no safer. The number of worldwide terrorist incidents has exploded since 2001. New Islamist groups were formed in response to U.S. actions and counteractions and they continue to spread without an end in sight.

I don’t know if there will be a next time, a chance to do it right. But should new threats emerge, more devastating attacks be endured, there simply has to be a better way, though the odds that President Donald Trump and his generals will find it are, honestly, next to nil.

Complex ideological threats sometimes demand counterintuitive responses. In such moments, hard as it may be to imagine, rational calculations should rise above the kneejerk emotional responses. True leaders step up and weather criticism in times of crisis. So next time, Americans would do well to set aside comforting illusions and take the world as it is, not as we imagine or wish it to be. The future may depend on it.

Major Danny Sjursen is a U.S. Army strategist and former history instructor at West Point. He served tours with reconnaissance units in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has written a memoir and critical analysis of the Iraq War, Ghost Riders of Baghdad: Soldiers, Civilians, and the Myth of the Surge.

[socialcoldstreams]

Climate Communications: Climate media coverage lacks facts, say researchers

But of the 600 news articles mentioning climate change over the 38-year period, the vast majority contained none of the five basic climate facts. This occurred despite the ease with which the basic facts of climate science were embedded in articles that did mention these facts.

Source: In media coverage of climate change, where are the facts? | EurekAlert! Science News

Professors at U.C. Berkeley examined a set of published media reports about climate. They found that nearly all news articles about climate omit the most basic facts about climate and imply this is the source of skepticism about projections for future changes in climate.

A corollary is if they are not reporting basic facts, what are they reporting?

One possibility is that news reports are primarily propaganda messaging using the techniques and methods of propaganda to persuade the audience – these methods include fear, get on the bandwagon, name calling, appeal to authority, and so on – but omit factual information about climate.

For many, the onslaught of propaganda messaging – rather than facts and logic – is a turn off and may lead directly to skepticism.

For example, this past week the news on a self proclaimed child prophet who tells us to do as she says, immediately, or we are all going to die. That is propaganda messaging – and not a credible way to argue a point.

As Nobel recipient Bertrand Russell said, a valid argument rests solely on facts and logic. Propaganda, on the other hand, is generally intended to appeal to your emotions – and to short circuit your rational thinking in order to drive you to a conclusion based on emotions, not fact.

Climate communication messaging, for several decades, has made extensive use of appeals to authority (science, IPCC) and scary future projections and surprisingly little based on facts and logic. Just look up “climate change” on Google News and you will see the over reliance on propaganda messaging techniques.

This post offers clues as to how to effectively communicate what is known about climate – try facts and logic and kill the propaganda messaging and hyperbole.

Factfulness

I have been reading Factfulness by Dr. Hans Rosling, as noted in a post a few days ago. And then this happened, as if to prove Dr. Rosling’s point 🙂

As I was writing this I received an email from a conservation group – The Nature Conservancy –  that I support with donations. Their email began with the following:

There’s no doubt[1] that we’re now seeing the effects of climate change every day — wildfires[2], hurricanes[3], rising sea levels[4]… all getting more extreme[5].

Claims 1, 2, 3 and 5 are, in fact, false. Claim 4 is true.  Go and read our prior post on factfulness and then check the underlying data and authoritative sources to see how you are misled. See below for authoritative sources that refute the claims made in 1, 2, 3 and 5.

This single sentence uses the propaganda methods of:

Glittering generalities

Assertion

Get on the band wagon

Fear

Lies

Untrue propaganda statements like the above are a turn off to many.  The Nature Conservancy should focus on facts of atmospheric CO2 levels rising, land and sea surface temperature anomalies, ice pack changes, ocean Ph and sea level change (IPCC Synthesis Report, Figure SPM.1) – as reported by reputable scientific bodies, but they did not. Instead they went straight for hyperbole and making untrue claims to promote fear and hysteria. Classic propaganda techniques.

From their own web site:

Not any more.

    References

[1] As you can see in [1] and [2] there are, in fact, doubts about these claims, from authoritative sources.

[2] “Yet many consider wildfire as an accelerating problem, with widely held perceptions both in the media and scientific papers of increasing fire occurrence, severity and resulting losses. However, important exceptions aside, the quantitative evidence available does not support these perceived overall trends. Instead, global area burned appears to have overall declined over past decades, and there is increasing evidence that there is less fire in the global landscape today than centuries ago. ” – Doerr, S., Santin, C. (2016) Global trends in wildfire and is impacts: perceptions versus realities in a changing world. Phil Transactions of the Royal Society B. Retrieved from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/full/10.1098/rstb.2015.0345

[3] “Statistical tests indicate that this trend [in tropical cyclones] is not significantly distinguishable from zero (Figure 2). In addition, Landsea et al. (2010) note that the rising trend in Atlantic tropical storm counts is almost entirely due to increases in short-duration (<2 day) storms alone. Such short-lived storms were particularly likely to have been overlooked in the earlier parts of the record, as they would have had less opportunity for chance encounters with ship traffic….In short, the historical Atlantic hurricane frequency record does not provide compelling evidence for a substantial greenhouse warming-induced long-term increase.” Global Warming and Hurricanes: An overview of current research results. (2019). NOAA. Retrieved from: https://www.gfdl.noaa.gov/global-warming-and-hurricanes/ This NOAA paper summarizes the 2019 reports from the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society.

[3a – related but not cited] “The bar charts below indicate there has been little trend in the frequency of the stronger tornadoes over the past 55 years”. NOAA – Historical Records and Trends. Retrieved from: https://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/climate-information/extreme-events/us-tornado-climatology/trends

[4] The rate of sea level rise appears to have increased since 1993 after being basically linear for just over 100 years. Retrieved from: https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-sea-level

[4a – related but not cited] “Mass gains of Antarctica ice sheets greater than losses”. Retrieved from: https://climate.nasa.gov/news/2361/study-mass-gains-of-antarctic-ice-sheet-greater-than-losses/

[5] There are papers claiming events are more “extreme” and also papers from authoritative sources, like those above, that say these events are not more extreme. Many have confused future projections with contemporary data- incorrectly attributing future projections of, say, wildfires or increased flooding, as if they have already occurred.

IPCC – Special Report on Extremes: “Long-term trends in economic disaster losses adjusted for wealth and population increases have not been attributed to climate change, but a role for climate change has not been excluded (high agreement, medium evidence).” Retrieved from: https://archive.ipcc.ch/pdf/special-reports/srex/SREX_FD_SPM_final.pdf

2012 Statement from the IPCC: “Long-term trends in normalized economic disaster losses cannot be reliably attributed to natural or anthropogenic climate change, particularly for cyclones and floods (medium evidence, high agreement).”

” increasing exposure of people and economic assets has been the major cause of long-term increases in economic losses from weather and climate related disasters”. Retrieved from: https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199874002/obo-9780199874002-0194.xml#obo-9780199874002-0194-div1-0002

A study from Munich Re found that disaster damage is up because the world is wealthier and “we have more to lose”. We are building more, and more expensive properties in places already prone to natural disasters. This is also documented by the IPCC. This is summarized by the online data-based journalism site Five Thirty Eight. Retrieved from https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/disasters-cost-more-than-ever-but-not-because-of-climate-change/

  Additional commentary by Professor Byron Sharp, who writes

It’s not that global warming isn’t a problem, but the problem has been misrepresented, and over-hyped (by people with good intentions).

and

Contrary to reports in the popular press, climate scientists have not been reporting more hurricanes, flood, fires and so on due to Global Warming. There are concerns that extreme weather events might increase but not for a long while yet, and maybe not. Equally importantly United Nations data shows that deaths due to extreme weather events have declined a staggering 96% over the past century, and that’s in spite of population growth. Why? How? Largely due to better buildings and infrastructure, better emergency services, better hospitals and so on. In other words, human technology and wealth levels, both of which continue to improve. So even predictions of increased deaths due to a warmer planet seem far fetched, while the idea that global warming means “the end is nigh” is sheer apocalyptic fantasy.

Again, stick with the actual facts of climate change: “atmospheric CO2 levels rising, land and sea surface temperature anomalies, ice pack changes, ocean Ph and sea level change (IPCC Synthesis Report, Figure SPM.1) – as reported by reputable scientific bodies,“. All the hyperbolic exaggeration is turning everyone one. This is a major, major, major failure of climate communications – most of which is having an effect opposite to their goals.

  Climate Communications: Climate media coverage lacks facts, say researchers was originally published on SocialPanic

[thelegendofclarke]

Besides Jon, who do you see as a candidate with a good chance of being a romantic interest for Sansa? I don't know if George Martin will even include that in an endgame but considering Sansa does want someone to love her for who she is, I'd hope he'd at least allow her some happiness in that regard.

Hey Anonny!

I am actually pretty optimistic about Sansa getting a happy ending; primarily because “no one will ever marry me for love” and “life is not a song,” and “there are no heroes, in life the monsters win” are so incredibly prevalent in her arc. Sansa’s character arc is basically a “Captive Princess in the Tower”— but deconstructed, and then reconstructed, and then ~kind of~ deconstructed again and also ~kind of~ flipped on it’s head. But regardless, a fairy tale is still a fairy tale. Honestly the entire ASoIaF series is one ridiculously long, intricately detailed fairy tale. Which leads me to believe that, for the most part, all the protagonists will get their happy (or at least bittersweet) endings.

Above everything else, Sansa wants to be loved; and through out the series she has become more and more convinced that she never will be, that she is unlovable. Aside from retuning home to Winterfell, its still her heart’s dearest desire. She does still want a loving, happy marriage, she just doesn’t think it’s possible anymore:

 But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it’s not me they want, only my claim. —Sansa, ASoS

It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. “I … can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?” —Sansa, ASoS

It’s not that Sansa has given up on love, its that she thinks love has given up on her. It’s not necessarily that she’s rejecting the idea of falling in love and being happily married, she just doesn’t see it happening for her. Which breaks my gd heart oml. 

Now moving on to your actual question (I know, I ramble. It’s so terrible!)…

The Tourney at Ashford Theory

So, one of the things that I have considered possible foreshadowing for Sansa’s romantic prospects is the Tourney at Ashford Theory. It’s the story of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, told from the perspective of Ser Duncan the Tall (Dunk from Dunk & Egg) in GRRM’s short stories The Hedge Knight and The Sworn Sword. The idea is that Sansa is a parallel to Lady Ashford whose father threw her a tourney for her 13th nameday tourney. Lady Ashford’s suitors coincide perfectly with Sansa’s, in order, by last name and House. 

Lady Ashford’s suitors were:

Lyonel Baratheon

Leo Tyrell

Tybolt Lannister

Humfrey Hardyng

Prince Valarr Targaryen

And Sansa’s suitors, as of ASoS, are/were:

Joffrey Baratheon

Willas Tyrell

Tyrion Lannister

Harry Hardyng

Some people think that this is merely a coincidence; but like, come on, they line up perfectly. The surviving potential prospects of Sansa’s in the series are: Willas Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Harry Hardyng, and presumably whoever the Targaryen suitor will be.

In previous years when the theory began spreading, the most popular theory was that Aegon (aka f!Aegon) was going to the the Targaryen suitor and Sansa’s final prospect. However, Aegon, Arianne, and Jon C’s absence from the show has cast some doubt upon their overall importance in the end game. And at this point, I think the same could be said for Harry Hardyng. That being said, I think any of the remaining suitors could potentially be Sansa’s endgame pairing.

The details are a little fuzzy on how exactly the Tourney went down, because Dunk (the POV from which the story was narrated) gets his butt tossed in jail on the second day. It’s important to note that the tourney is canceled; there technically is no real winner, and no one receives Lady Ashford’s hand. I also think this was done intentionally so as not to give away too much. 

In my opinion, from the series so far, I think the strongest cases could probably be made for Tyrion Lannister and whoever the Targaryen suitor ends up being.

Sansa’s Baratheon suitor, Joffrey, as we all know is dead.

I think that sadly the ship has officially sailed on the Tyrell potential, which is a bummer because I think Sansa would have loved High Garden.

Humfrey Hardyng was in the final five because Aerion Targaryen was forced to forfeit to him after Dunk kicked his ass for attacking a young girl (hence, why Dunk was in jail.) I think this could maybe be foreshadowing of a reversal with Harry Hardyng having to forfeit his betrothal to Alayne Stone once her true identity is learned, but that’s just me speculating. 

Humfrey Hardyng also dies later on at the Tourney in Aerion Targaryen’s Trial. by the Seven (discussed below). So I think that also may not bode well for a Sansa/Harry endgame, again. if I’m just speculating. 

That leaves Lannister and Targaryen still standing.

The one thing I think that Sansa/Tyrion has going for it is that in the series they are ~technically~ still married. I could also see it being a classic GRRM move to have Tyrion got through a kind of ~transforming narrative journey of self actualization~ and in the end be the kind of husband that could be good for Sansa. GRRM does love a good underdog, and a good Find Yourself Story!

Although, going along with the Tyrion/Sansa note, I think the fact that they got married could also possibly be even more evidence for and Jon/Sansa canon pairing. In GRRM;s  original outline for the series, there was supposed to be a Tyrion/Arya/Jon love triangle. To me this says that 1) GRRM ain’t afraid to go there; and 2) that because Sansa ended up with that aspect of the original story line, said triangle/love story could still play out somehow.

Honestly, I have pretty much ~always~ seen Jon/Sansa as having canon potential from the time I first read the books, even before I ever got into fandom; it’s one of the things that drew me to the ship in the first place. I see so many parallels and so much potential foreshadowing that I feel like it has to be a deliberate indicator of something. These are some of the metas that I have read that really delve into a lot of detail on it for anyone who is interested. I was already curious when I first started looking around to see if anyone else had noticed Jon/Sansa, but was really @blindestspot‘s A Time for Wolves - The Case for Jon and Sansa that convinced me in the end. 

Other Possibilities

Sandor Clegane/The Hound

I could totally see this playing out. There is a lot of speculation and foreshadowing that The Hound will end up at Winterfell at some point and probably remain there. This relationship also plays into sooo many tropes (i.e. “The Princess and Her Knight,” “Beauty and the Beast,” ect.), and as I discussed earlier, GRRM loves a good trope. While I’m not necessarily sure how ~romantic~ or ~official~ it would end up being, I could see these two being devoted to each other until the end. Sandor has a really strong protective instinct when it comes to Sansa; so I feel like in any relationship they had, his role could end up being more of a protector rather than a primarily romantic partner. 

Brienne of Tarth

Speaking of the “Princess and Her Knight”… Some people argue that the real champion of The Tourney at Ashford was actually Set Duncan the Tall. An altercation occurred between Ser Duncan the Tall and Prince Aerion Targaryen when the prince assaulted a girl, Tanselle. This resulted in Duncan striking the prince, claiming that he was only following the knight’s vows to defend the weak. Prince Aerion demanded a Trial of Seven to clear his name and in the end Dunk’s side ended up winning.

Last year at Balticon GRRM actually confirmed that Brienne is is the descendent of Ser Duncan the Tall. Some people have speculated that therefore, in the end, it will be Brienne who is Sansa’s true champion. Which I am down for tbh.

So yeah, I think there is plenty of potential for Sansa to get her happy ending. Whether or not she’ll actually get it in canon though is very questionable, I guess I can see it going either way. It wouldn’t be unlike GRRM to take the most romantically minded, eager for love character in the series and never let her truly fall in love or have anyone truly fall in love with her. But like I said in the beginning, the extent to which this theme is basically beaten to death in Sansa’s arc is, for me, also evidence to the contrary. It also wouldn’t be unlike GRRM to have a character become completely disillusioned and hopeless, and then throw them a narrative curveball that makes them question everything they think they have learned. I do think Sansa wants a happy, loving marriage, and I hope she gets it because after everything she has been through I think she more than deserves it.

[presssorg]

The science loop: How cognitive biases contribute to the intellectual entrenchment at the root of junk science

The science loop: How cognitive biases contribute to the intellectual entrenchment at the root of junk science By Joanna Szurmak

In an article in The Skeptical InquirerMay/June 2019 issue an author dissects a Flat Earther school board presentation seemingly surprised that it was “intelligently designed,” as if the key issue with junk science such as the flat earth model were the low intelligence, or poor communication skills, of its adherents. What is at the root of junk science, however, is neither stupidity nor lack of sophistication but the intellectual entrenchment due to a set of cognitive biases shared by scientists and laypersons alike. John P.A. Ioannidis, a Stanford physician-scientist who has been studying scientific scholarship for years, defined bias as “the combination of various design, data, analysis, and presentation factors that tend to produce research findings when they should not be produced.” In the production and dissemination of scientific knowledge the two most problematic sources of distortion are confirmation bias and motivated reasoning. Confirmation bias occurs when one pays attention to information that supports prior beliefs while rejecting anything that may challenge or oppose them. Motivated reasoning is a strategy to deal with challenging or opposing data by fitting them in so that they support — or at least do not contradict — the existing worldview. There is nothing simplistic or unintelligent about the process of shoring up an entrenched belief through the use of cognitive biases. In fact, Stony Brook political scientists  Charles Taber and Milton Lodge noted that in all academic disciplines “(r)esearch findings confirming a hypothesis are accepted more or less at face value, but when confronted with contrary evidence, we become “motivated skeptics” (…), and only when all the counter arguing fails do we rethink our beliefs.” University of Virginia psychologist Brian Nosek, the creator of the Centre for Open Science, and first author of the Transparency and Openness Promotion (TOP) Guidelines — intended to curb motivated reasoning through best practices for research design and dissemination — explained the process to journalist Philip Ball. Whether one is a scientist or not, “most of our reasoning is in fact rationalization,” or fitting what one thinks one observes to what one wants to see. Whereas confirmation bias is a filtering mechanism, motivated reasoning both filters and distorts the influx of new information. Taber and Lodge extended their observations of biased thinking to non-scientists as well, finding that, in fact, “those who feel the strongest about the issue and are the most sophisticated — strengthen their attitudes in ways not warranted by the evidence.” Thus, our Skeptical Inquirer journalist should not have been surprised by the apparent cleverness of the flat earth presentation. It probably took a fair amount of commitment to the cause, and flat-out creativity, to contrive convincing arguments. How can scientific practice and science dissemination be made more independent of cognitive biases or social and intellectual entrenchment? One tentative answer is that sticking with best practices will allow science to self-correct through ongoing refutation and discussion. The scientific method, at least as framed by the philosopher Karl Popper, appears to limit bias by specifying that scientists first seek to falsify or disprove their hypotheses, and only then attempt to find support for — but never “prove” — them through different sets of experiments. Scientists often develop hypotheses inductively — from examples to generalizations — based on observations. Induction, however, may be used not only to identify new ideas but also to “prove” shaky theories because it cannot confirm the absolute truth of a statement. Popper’s famous example of this is the black swan problem. If all observations of swans are of white ones, the inductively based hypothesis on swan pigmentation will have to be: “All swans are white.” But this is a hypothesis: a best guess based on preliminary data. Until one observes a black swan, one cannot falsify — or refute — this hypothesis by providing evidence to the contrary. It is essential that when one sets out to test the “all swans are white” hypothesis, one does so with data not used to formulate it. This gives one a fair chance to see whether the hypothesis may be refuted. Science still never “proves” anything, merely provides evidence-based theories that get more sophisticated and better at predicting the real world through deductively formed hypotheses. This inductive-deductive loop (see graphic) is the basis for much work in the sciences and social sciences: One observes and inductively develops some insights and hypotheses based on the preliminary data. These give rise — deductively — to hypotheses that are subjected to falsification using entirely new data. If these hypotheses cannot be falsified, there is a chance one has a valuable insight that still needs a whole lot more testing.

So far, so good. Nosek, however, pointed out a common violation of this falsification process: “One basic fact that is always getting forgotten is that you can’t generate hypotheses and test them with the same data. (…) At present we mix up exploratory and confirmatory research.” When scientists do that, motivated reasoning can take over experimental design or data analysis. In such cases, according to Nosek, “we have already made the decision about what to do or to think, and our ‘explanation’ of our reasoning is really a justification for doing what we wanted to do — or to believe — anyway.” Nosek and others have studied cognitive biases that influence the design of experiments and the interpretation of data. Publication and funding biases researched by Ioannidis distort the availability and reporting of results, adding social and political dimensions to the distortions of science. The practice of science is, indeed, socially determined. Thomas Kuhn described this social culture of scientific research as a framework of “normal” science punctuated by paradigm shifts when new ways of thinking first disrupt, then displace, the orthodoxies. The epidemiologist Ludwik Fleck had made similar observations about “closed systems of opinion” decades before Kuhn. Fleck noted that these systems were self-reinforcing socio-cognitive constructs that resisted outlier ideas with “tenacity.” Thus, the question of bias in science may not necessarily be a problem with the inductive-deductive method but with the human tendency to act … human. The self-corrective mechanisms in science show evidence that despite individual cognitive biases and socially-induced systemic distortions, researchers following the scientific method are still our best bet for a sustained methodology of discovery. Remember the heated debate over the cause of ulcers? It was a big deal in the mid-1980s, at least for Robin Warren and Barry J. Marshall, two Australian researchers who, after refuting the consensus hypothesis that stomach acid caused ulcers, were awarded the 2005 Nobel Prize for their work showing that bacteria such as Helicobacter pylori were responsible for the condition. The ulcer case is by no means an anomaly. Scientists are reacting to biased work all the time. In March 2019 ecologist Atte Komonen and his colleagues corrected the “strongly popularized unsubstantiated claims” about the imminent extinction of insects that, nonetheless, made waves earlier in 2019 in a peer-reviewed journal and in the media. The methodological flaws of the original study included a biased literature search: “By including the word (declin*), there is a bias towards literature that reports declines (…) If you search for declines, you find declines.” Even Ioannidis’ research sustained constructive criticism by Steven Goodman and Sander Greenland  who wrote, echoing Popper, that instead of proving that “most published claims are untrue,” Ioannidis showed “that no study or combination of studies can ever provide convincing evidence.” Enforced consensus and unmitigated social, professional or financial pressures are bound to distort the processes of questioning and falsification. There are, therefore, likely to entrench the cognitive biases of motivated reasoning and confirmation bias. And biased science is the seed of junk science that germinates under the conditions of intellectual or political polarization. Joanna Szurmak is a Research Services Librarian, University of Toronto Mississauga and a PhD Candidate, Science & Technology Studies, York University sites.utm.utoronto.ca/szurmak/ Published at Thu, 20 Jun 2019 11:27:45 +0000 Read the full article

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An Introduction to Extratone: The World’s Fastest Music Genre « Bandcamp Daily

There’s a strong chance you don’t have many extratone records in your collection. An electronic genre that operates at a tempo of 1,000 beats per minute, and can sometimes hit the startling realms of 10,000 BPM, extratone is an acquired taste to say the least—and possibly just a smidgen out of your standard tempo comfort zone. But extratone is very much real; it has a story, history, and lineage in the extreme hardcore continuum. It has a community, a DIY punk-like ethos, and a singular aesthetic that sets it apart from other genres.

“Extratone is basically a form of extreme sound art,” explains a London-based artist and Slime City label owner who has identified himself as Rick. He operates under various aliases, like Zara Skumshot and Skat Injector. “It’s not about pounding kicks, but kicks so fast they have morphed into a tonal beast. They’ve mutated into a whole different animal. A natural process of evolution. It reminds me at times of such genres as harsh noise and HWN in places depending on production. The production of course is more varied and peppered with additional elements such as synths and sampling.”

The key word here is “tonal”: when kick drums are structured at such fast tempos (usually as quarter notes or 16ths), the pneumatic sledgehammer style of beats associated with most ultra-fast music genres no longer exist. Instead, it’s a buzzing textural, tonal trip. At its most uncompromised, extratone perplexes the senses (see the work of Gabberdoom). But there are many examples of more melodic elements within the genre (also see the work of The Quick Brown Fox). A long-standing tradition of any extreme form of music, the real essence of the style is found within the brutal balance of contrasts.

“That’s the thing with difficult music,” admits Neil LAR, founder of U.K.-based label Legs Akimbo Records, an imprint that wound down operations indefinitely on December 31, 2017. “It can be a very rewarding, but also a very harsh experience. You will find both extreme, ear-bleeding distortion and sublimely clean, intricate sound design within the extratone scene. It’s far more diverse than, say, the standard Frenchcore sound.”

“I see extratone as pure power/pure frequency that you clench in your fist, provocatively defying any hardcore audience you can imagine,” adds Riccardo Balli, artist and founder of Italian label Sonic Belligeranza. “It’s so hard that, in a way, it’s not hard anymore. Just like it is so fast that in the end it’s not fast anymore. I like this self-destructive component of this style, when beats get so fast you can’t detect them anymore, you experience, at the same time, aggressivity and chill.”

The earliest evidence of ultra-fast hardcore within dance music (grindcore notwithstanding), is almost always traced back to 1993 and Moby’s “Thousand,” a track that clocks in at 1,015 BPM and was anointed by the Guinness Book Of World Records as the fastest recorded production. Other examples include “Human 1000 BPM De Rebel Va Te Faire Enculer Rubik” by Explore Toi and “Killer Machinery” by DJ Dano, DJ Gizmo, Buzz Fuzz, and the Prophet (both released in 1994) but Balli describes these examples more as reactions to hardcore’s developmental state at the time, and not as the seeds of a new genre.

“These tunes were a hyperbolic acceleration reaching the ‘impossible’ threshold of 1,000 BPM,” he explains. “They are to be seen more as a sort of extravagant bonus track inside an EP than anything else. I can see them interpreted as moments of furious, extreme madness in a context, such us the hardcore one, that hails madness as its founding element.”

In the late ‘90s, the genre began coming into its own thanks to the work of Belgian artist DJ Einrich. In Balli’s recent book Frankenstein, Or The 8-Bit Prometheus, leading extratone artist Ralph Brown (given name Daniele Rossi) cites Einrich as the genre’s founding agitator, explaining how Einrich explored the use of oscillators to transform kick drums into actual notes, in octaves.

“By combining two German words, extrahieren (to extract) and tone (note), he came up with extratone,” Rossi explains. “A subgenre where BPM are so crammed that they almost appear like extra-dimensional. So Einrich turned his name into Einrich 3,600 BPM (the perfect number of BPM according to him) and started to release tracks via his own Immer Schneller Records.” It’s here where extratone’s conceptual and mathematical approach began to take shape.

But the greatest influence on extratone is speedcore. The most popular and expansive style of extreme hardcore music, speedcore has been at the center of all ultra-fast electronic music developments since the ‘90s. It has since spawned a cornucopia of sub-styles that includes the likes of splittercore (speedcore that exceeds 600 BPM and is under 1,000 BPM), flashcore (an experimental style of speedcore that doffs its cap to IDM), Frenchcore (a toughened, 200 BPM style of hardcore that emerged from France in the late ’90s), or terrorcore (an abrasive extension of the Dutch and Belgian hardcore mothergenre gabber). However, not all speedcore artists and fans accept or buy into extratone as a style in its own right.    

Riccardo Balli and Ralph Brown.

“I first came across extratone in about 2002/2003 when I used to frequent the Speedcore.ca forums run by the Canadian Speedcore Resistance,” explains Neil LAR who’s been involved in speedcore since the mid ‘90s. “It divided opinion even then, with people loving or hating it. Something I have become increasingly aware of is just how petty and childish people within the speedcore scene can be. Cliquey bullshit often involving grown-ass men—it is embarrassing, frankly.”

“The tl;dr is: shit got faster and didn’t stop getting faster,” says Emma Essex, aka The Quick Brown Fox, head of the label and studio Halley Labs. “A few styles really stuck—especially in Europe, where the speedcore is very macho, aggressive, and angry, and not a whole lot else. That’s one of the big stagnations, in my opinion—the concept that speedcore has to be angry or aggressive. It’s been shaken up by regional differences, but that old go-to of aggression is still extremely foundational.”

Yet in contrast to the angriness and aggression, a much stronger characteristic of extreme hardcore is its tongue-in-cheek sense of humor and its wry knowingness, whether it’s the provocative crudities of Aussie musician Passenger Of Shit and his label Shitwank Records, the playfulness of Legs Akimbo, or the daft concepts of Sonic Belligeranza.

“This is the way I personally see this super-hyper-mega fast sound,” explains Balli. “That fist-clenched-in-front-of-the-audience I was mentioning is thought to be very ironic, but also serious and ironic, and so on, in an endless game with the attendees.”

“I don’t take any of the shit too seriously,” says Neil LAR. “I could point you in the direction of others who live for this stuff, but I doubt they would even talk with you. I am probably ‘selling out’ in their eyes just by answering these questions. I have little time for that kind of attitude, frankly, and I am still certain I divided the Legs Akimbo fanbase by not giving a fuck, and releasing whatever I wanted.”

Those who do live for it are as inventive as they are committed. Essex says extratone’s creator base is rife with DIY styles, like mash-up extratone, minimal extratone, noise extratone, and “straight-up joke extratone.”   

“It’s something you can just up and make—that’s the entire point,” explains Essex. “The barrier of entry is practically non-existent. And people into weird music have a pretty immediate starting point in a style that requires little knowledge of anything. Because of that base level, you hear all kinds of weird musical decisions that somebody more ‘versed’ in composition or production might not even consider. I think that’s a great thing in any creative scene, it’s just that extratone gets a bad rap for being only that.”

Where extratone stands out within this wider collection of styles is its speed, as well as its textural and sometimes conceptual signature. A good example of this is Balli and Ralph Brown’s Tweet It! EP: In 2012, the Bologna artists realized the similarities between the data produced per second by Twitter (1.456.000) and digital audio (1.411.200), and created a 14-track EP consisting of tracks that are each one minute and 40 seconds in length. These run at 1,400 BPM, 140 Hz, and consist of 140 characters for every tune text. With such a strong conceptual approach, it could be argued that extratone leans heavily on the ideologies of sound art and experimentalism, but Balli disagrees.

“I agree working with tonal/textural audio opens a sort of algebraic and mathematical realm of sound, which I found stimulating as a producer,” says Balli. “However, I think this differs from, for example, sound art. Personally, I think the latter is mostly self-celebrating, and repeating cliches of a tradition—the avant-garde one. What is in the majority of cases considered ‘experimental music’ has got nothing truly experimental in it. Extratone could also be considered ‘drone-ish’ if you want to pigeonhole it in a more academic genre, but with a dynamic afflatus. The noise constituting its texture ain’t static. On the contrary, it’s thought to be, essentially, dance music. And this is what makes it interesting to my ears.”

Neil LAR agrees that extratone comes into its own on the dancefloor, and describes intense performances by acts such as Jensen, Skat Injector, Gridbug, DJ Mucus, Extratrolls, Licho, Hersenerosie, HateWire, Junkie Kut, and 10Jonk-T as “monumental experiences.” Balli is equally emphatic about the genre’s ability to create unique dancefloor encounters. While not strictly an extratone artist himself, he has his own unique performance technique that comprises cutting up pure tone records in a style he describes as “a hybrid, abstract turntablism no man’s land.” He believes the future of the genre is now in the hands of performers who debunk the standard laptop/Ableton combo applied by the majority of live across the entire electronic music spectrum.

“I can’t not mention my colleague Ralph Brown,” he grins. “His act is totally intense, 100% adrenaline, and he’s not using Ableton Live. When he plays, he has these serial killer eyes fixed on the screen. It’s a blast! At the same time, it’s both scary and hilarious.”

“For me, to seek a true extratone experience you have to witness it being performed live,” adds Skumshot. “It’s like walking onto another planet with a skull-crushingly intense atmosphere. A total sensory bombardment hits you like a ton of bricks as you’re shut into one hell of a brutally surreal trip. Proper Altered States shit. There’s times when you’re so blinded by lasers, and your ears are so full of ‘tone’ that you could be in some kind of glitched-out computer program. The searing note blasts, relentless lasers, strobes, and smoke combine to throttle you out of existence—in the best possible way.”

Even without hearing it, that very description of extratone can seem a little intimidating. But because it transcends any net-based ecosystem and survives as a performance style as well as a production style, extratone is very real, and is being pushed, explored, and developed by interesting and genuine artists.

“I think in extratone there’s a huge, underutilized, misunderstood toolkit hidden away which is simply based on exponentially faster kick drum sequencing,” says Essex. “It could really stand to be more deeply explored by people who might write it off as stupid and forget about it.”

You might not have many extratone records in your collection. But beyond the acquired taste, there’s definitely more to it to than meets the eye (and ear). Long may this continue.

-Dave Jenkins

This content was originally published here.