#with predictions and lengthy explanations as to why this make so much sense

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 16

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: fluff, me feeling sad because THIS IS THE EEEEND

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: there will be an epilogue coming out on Friday, (FROM CHRISTINA’S POV!!) however other than that, this is the end of Lost & Found everyone! I just wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you that have been so involved with this story. I feel like I’ve gotten to see so much of you guys interacting with this story and loving it just as much as I do. I’ve loved your theories and seeing your reactions (lol, some of them were hilarious). This story is...I don’t even know how to explain it. I put a little bit of myself into every story I write, but this is one of those that really made me do some digging. It still is. It was hard to write most of the time. But it was so, so worth it. 

I would LOVE (as always) to hear from you about your thoughts. Who your fav characters were, favorite parts, thoughts on the ending, thoughts on side ships (lol Christina and Tae!) and of course, I’m more than happy to answer any questions! Thank you again for reading, and enjoy!

Chapter 16. I’m Proud of You

series masterlist

The sound of rain battering on the roof of the shop creates a false sense of security. The ambience created by the repeated sound against the tin out in the alleyway lulls me into a dreamlike state.

           Jimin appears to be in a similar mindset, leaning against the worktable and watching with glazed eyes as I knead the dough to a rhythm I pick out in the rainfall.

           “What’s the next question?”

           Jimin inhales deeply, eyes drifting to the appear hanging loosely in his hands. “Um…how do you plan on coping with a life in the spotlight?”

           Jimin and I have been at the sweet-bread shop for the past couple of hours, trying to make up for all the days I missed from work. Yuri allowed for us to come in today much later than normal due to Jimin’s schedule in the morning.

           Last night I’d glanced through the lengthy list of questions with Jimin and Chung-hei. I’d nearly cried from relief when I found out that she would also be joining in on the interview. Apparently Bighit thought that selling the idea of two close friends at the soulmates for two of their idols might prove to be comforting for the fans.

           “I plan on baking a lot of bread,” I respond with a smirk, spreading the dough in a pan and heading toward the large oven on the far side of the room. On the way I prop the back door open just a crack, allowing a bit of air in now that the back will be heating up with baking bread. The sound of rain grows louder, the strong smell flooding the kitchen.

           Jimin chuckles, nodding along. “And texting your friend Jaemin?”

           “Obviously.” Once everything looks good to go, I set a timer and check the time. It’s pushing eight in the evening, and the rain has yet to let up at all. “Ok, that’ll bake for thirty minutes.” I go to join Jimin beside the worktable, beginning to wipe it down.

           “Next…something that’s surprised you so far?”

           The thread now extends nearly twenty feet, which the soulmate specialist we met with last night predicted would happen. “At this rate,” he’d said, “Everything should be back to normal within five days or so.”

           Normal.

           What does that even mean anymore?

           “You.” I keep my eyes on the table, trying to scoop up as much flour as I can. “You’ve been the biggest surprise so far.”

           Jimin lowers the paper, watching my movements as I dispose of the flour before spraying some disinfectant and continuing to clean.

           “Explain that, please.” Jimin effortlessly assumes the role of interviewer. I chew on my cheek, grinning when Jimin takes up a spot on the opposite side of the table and motions for the cloth.

           I slide it toward him, watching as he begins to clean the other side. “Well… I think we’re becoming friends. Good friends.” My absentminded smile grows as I recall the events of last night.

           By the time we’d finished the meeting with Bang PD, we’d barely had enough time to breathe before launching ourselves into another flurry of meetings. All designed to prepare me for the possible pitfalls of this sudden interview.

           When we’d finally made it back to the house, Elle was cranky at not seeing either of us all day and I was bordering on a mental breakdown.

           In the quiet of the living room, Jimin had sat on the edge of my couch-turned-bed and tucked me in.

           “Take your pick,” he’d whispered, unfolding the blanket. “Burrito or lasagna.”

           My startled laugh sounded loud in the quiet house. “What’s the difference?”

           With some sort of reverenced adoration, I listened to my soulmate explain the lasagna method (piling several layers of blankets on top of the victim/person), versus the burrito method (one blanket, snugly tucked in).

           Laid there on the couch, gazing up at Jimin, I understood why I hadn’t fought against the interview.

           I cared. It was a devastatingly simple and perhaps a little lackluster revelation, but I cared about him.

           Jimin looks up at me now from the opposite end of the worktable with a crooked smile. “Are you friend-zoning me?”

           My eyes fall to that smile, wondering what it might feel like to reach out and trace the little divots it creates in his cheeks.

           “…no.”

           After his marvelous explanation of the difference in the lasagna and burrito methods, I’d chosen burrito.

           Jimin had leapt up off the couch and draped the blanket over my body. I laughed when it covered my face, and Jimin chuckled nervously when he pulled it down.

           “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This is a hazardous line of work at times.”

           Beginning at my toes and working his way up, Jimin had meticulously tucked me in. I’d stifled a laugh when he brushed up against my sides, a knowing smile gracing his lips before he quietly instructed, “Arms up.”

           Rather than finishing the job quickly, Jimin took his time. Gently straightening the hem of the blanket and taking my hands in his before guiding them to rest atop the blanket.

           He took a moment to study me, the only source of light coming from the kitchen. A little light had been left on above the stove, but I didn’t mind; not when it illuminated the way he was looking at me.

           Resting on the edge of the couch, Jimin looked like an ordinary man.

           His black t-shirt looked a little wrinkled, and his eyes were tired. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at the other couch.

           “I’m proud of you.”

           Despite the utter silence in the room, I wondered if I heard him correctly. “Hm?”

           His lips turned down in a frown of concentration as Jimin swam in his thoughts. “I think you deserve to hear it.”

           I stared at him like he had suddenly transformed into a werewolf. “I…I don’t think…”

           At my tone of doubt, Jimin returned his focus on me, surprised to see that I didn’t believe him.

           Maybe you aren’t proud of yourself,” he whispered quietly, as though sharing a secret. “But for now, I hope that this is enough.” He reached out to wipe a stray tear from my cheek, quickly followed by another. “You’ve been so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

           For unknown minutes after, all was silent. Jimin stayed, fingers caressing my cheeks as the tears continued to flow. I had clung to his wrist, unable to verbally convey what was caught in my throat as he continued to look at me with so much pride.

           I don’t deserve you.

           But I will do my best to love you in the way you deserve.

✂

           The rain lets up not long after the bread comes out of the oven, although Jimin is nowhere near the end of the questions. He continues asking them as he and Jolie head out to the car waiting for them, Sunmi greeting them with a cheery wave.

           He watches with a forgotten smile as his soulmate interacts with her friend. Jolie laughs at something Sunmi says, her eyes alight with some sort bittersweet emotion. Jimin is beginning to understand what that look means.

           Last night, he’d seen the way she was doubting herself. If he was honest, he’d been doubting himself, as well. This interview was going to be high pressure. He didn’t want to admit it, but this interview would largely decide how people viewed his soulmate.

           Yet, Jolie didn’t complain. She didn’t say a single thing expressing her doubt or worry. Instead, he watched on with amazement and admiration as she powered through the meetings. Steeling herself against the worst.

           There had been a moment, as Jimin tucked his soulmate in after explaining the different methods (he’d come up with the lasagna method on the spot, but she didn’t need to know that), that he realized why he’d been feeling so odd all day. Like something about Jolie was so familiar, allowing him to fall into an easy rhythm with someone who should have been one of the last he would trust so readily.

           She reminded him of, well…himself.

           Jolie was cut from the same cloth that he was. That younger Jimin of the trainee days, trying so hard to be brave but still quick to make rash decisions that he later came to regret with his whole being. Quick to doubt, quick to love.

           Somehow, that’s who Jimin saw as he sat perched on the edge of the couch. And after a moment of reflection, he felt like he knew what he had needed to hear back in those early days. What Jolie needed to hear as she embarked on this new adventure.

           “I’m proud of you.”

           It was true. It still is, less than a day later as Jolie sits beside Jimin in the backseat and chatters freely with Sunmi. Explaining some of the silly answers she came up with to the possible interview questions, making a bet on some random phrase that Chung-hei will probably say at some point.

           That pride bubbles up until it has Jimin reaching across the seat to grab Jolie’s hand in his, lovingly running his thumb over her knuckles. He grins at the way she stumbles mid-sentence, eyes flashing to him.

           He sees the way she looks doubtful for a moment, and he knows that she’s internally rejecting the notion that he cares as deeply for her as his actions say he does. He just squeezes her hand a little tighter and silently promises to prove it to her.

           Again and again, if need be.

           “You’ll do great,” Sunmi is reassuring as she pulls into a familiar neighborhood. They’ve arrived back to the apartment at last. “I’ll be watching.”

           “That sounds a little creepy,” Jolie teases, glancing over at Jimin as she opens up the door and slides out. “Thanks, Sunmi.”

           Sunmi nods, smiling in the rear view. “I’ll see you guys in the morning!”

           Once they’ve said their goodbyes, Jimin and Jolie head up to the apartment. They can already hear some of the people inside, and Jolie can’t hide her smile as she hears Christina’s voice.

           “Kim Seokjin, I already told you that I’m in charge of the zucchini, now leave it alone.”  

           Jolie wiggles her eyebrows at Jimin. “Don’t tell me she’s moved on to Jin.”

           “Oh, no. Her and Tae and are pining over each other every chance they get,” he quietly confirms. The way Jolie snorts has him smiling at her fondly. “She’s probably just trying to make him jealous by hanging out with Jin.”

           The two of them head inside, stepping into a warzone. People are scattered everywhere, jumping to and fro in an effort to prepare a suitable dinner for all those present. It’s a rare sight to see in the house, it’s not often that they cook at home. Due to their busy schedules, they either cook for themselves or eat out.

           “What’s going on?” Jolie asks with a hint of amusement as she glances at Taehyung. He’s the only stationary being in the entire house, leaning up against the doorway to the kitchen and staring at Christina with furrowed brows. Almost like he’s confused, but he doesn’t quite understand why.

           Jimin comes up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

           Taehyung shrugs, a little lost in thought. “Oh, fine. Fine.”

           Winking at Jolie, Jimin attempts to sidle into the kitchen. “Anybody need help in here?” There’s a round of applause from Jin, who begs Jimin to come and help him with something. Taking up a station beside his oldest hyung, Jimin gets to work to prepare family dinner.

✂

           “So,” I drawl, posting up on the opposite end of the doorframe from Taehyung. “Whatcha thinking about?”

           Taehyung’s frown deepens, his eyes flitting over to mine before sloping back to where Christina chops vegetables at the counter. “Dinner.”

           “Mhmm.”

           Again, his eyes flash over to me, an accusing look on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

           I shrug, enjoying the role reversal. To think, it wasn’t that long ago before I was quaking before Taehyung at work. “You just look a little distracted, that’s all.”

           Taehyung chews on his bottom lip, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flit back and forth between Christina, her severed thread, and his own thread which leads out the door and beyond. Connecting him to his soulmate, wherever they may be.

           “I feel a little…strange.” He admits quietly enough for no one else to hear.

           “In a good way, or…?”

           He shrugs, watching as Christina picks her way across the kitchen to where Seokjin clears a space for her to slip the cut vegetables into a steaming pot. “Sometimes good, sometimes bad.”

           “And do you…plan to do anything about these strange feelings?”

           Christina steps out of the room, and the second she disappears from sight it’s like Taehyung woke up from a long dream. He blinks, looking around for a second before looking back at me. “I think it’s more of a question of if I should do something about it. If that’s even plausible.” Again, his eyes drift to his thread, and I mull over this odd situation.

           In the end, it only leads to heartbreak. It just depends on who it will be that gets their heart broken.

           Before I can respond, Yoongi is calling everyone to come to dinner. It takes a few minutes for us to all gather around, and I can’t help but notice the way that Taehyung doesn’t even think twice before settling down next to Christina. The moment he notices what he’s done, however, that same tormented expression from earlier reappears. I offer him a bolstering smile from down the table, which he hastily returns.

           We all dig into the food, everyone expressing appreciation for different dishes and sharing all around. Jimin blows on his bulgogi before extending it to me with a grin, which I quickly take.

           Toward the end of the meal, Hoseok holds up a glass and a hush falls over the table. “I’d like to propose a toast!”

           Jungkook whispers something to Jin, who tries and fails to hide his laughter. A glare from Hobi has the two shutting up in an instant.

           “To more family dinners like this,” he says with a smile. “And to all our new additions.” He pauses, thinking for a moment longer. “Some of you arrived in more…unconventional ways than others. But I will say this: you make my friends happy, and that’s all I want for them. Please continue to make them smile as often as you can.”

           I can toast to that.

✂

           These lights are making me sweat, but then again, that could also be from the way the interviewer is staring me down with a hawk-like glare.

           There’s no studio audience, no this is something to be broadcasted in about a month from now. For now, I sit beside Chung-hei and try not to fidget in my seat.

           At first, there were plenty of generic questions. A few directed toward Chung-hei or I that were easy enough to tackle; questions like: “What’s your line of work?” or “How does it feel to be in an interview?”

           Now, though, we’re reaching the end and the interviewer seems to sense this. They begin to lean into the more difficult questions. Anything to keep ratings going, I suppose.

           “Jolie, I have one final question for you,” they grab their card before crossing their legs and smiling at me. There’s no kindness in that smile, but I try to pretend like there is. “If you could go back in time to before you met Jimin, what would you tell yourself?”

           I blink. Everyone looks to me expectantly, and I find that I’m suddenly sweating much more than before.

           This wasn’t in the list of questions.

           Refraining from chewing on my lip, I glance at Chung-hei. My friend smiles encouragingly at me, and I allow myself to go back to a previous time I saw that same smile.

           I’m standing beside Chung-hei, grinning wide enough that my cheeks hurt as the intro music begins to play.

           “They’re about to come out!” Hei screams despite standing right by me. I laugh at her excitement, even though I know I look just as crazed as she does.

           The entire arena floods with music, the bass making my very bones vibrate. All around me people lift up their army bombs and cheer. Smoke floods the stage, creating a mysterious aura before the lights drop and everything is plunged into darkness.

           And then, light. Two huge spotlights illuminate seven figures who seemingly appeared from thin air in the middle of the stage. Less than a second later, the already deafening arena picks up in sound.

           In a burst of energy, the seven boys begin their routine. I find that I am absolutely mesmerized as my eyes fall on one person in particular.  

           Park Jimin glides across the stage as though he owns it; which, with some quick negotiating and a bit of cash, he probably could. His flowy white shirt makes me understand why he’s so often referred to as an angel. However, it’s when he smiles that I find myself adopting the nickname to use for future reference.

           For a moment, I am blissfully ignorant to all that awaits me. To all that awaits us, as I still have yet to notice the way my thread shifts whenever Jimin moves across the stage.

           What would I tell myself in that moment?

           The answer comes surprisingly quickly. “If I could go back…I think I’d just tell her that I’m proud of her.” I smile softly at the interviewer, who listens to my every word as though waiting for some sort of slip up to cling to. “For all that she’s gone through, I’m proud. And that there’s light up ahead.”

           Right on cue, the producer signals to wrap it up from behind the camera. I spy Jimin’s smile, making me smile in return.

           The interview is wrapped up within the next couple of minutes, and before I know it we’re being herded backstage before slipping into our different cars to head to the Bighit building.

           Jimin and I sit in the back seat as Sunmi drives, listening to her rant about how well we did. I just shrug, explaining that it’s too soon to congratulate us. The real challenge will come when the broadcast airs.

           “You did well,” Jimin quietly affirms. He takes my hand in his like he did yesterday, and it’s a feeling that I can certainly tell I’ll be more than happy with for the rest of my life. “How are you feeling?”

           I shrug. “Alright, I think. Just nervous for what comes next.”

           Once we make it to the Bighit building, Jimin pulls me aside before entering the doors. Once he’s ascertained that there isn’t anyone eavesdropping, he pulls me in close to his embrace.

           I nearly melt in his arms, instantly relaxing as I take in the citrusy scent of his shampoo. It’s the same that I’ve been using over the past couple of days.

           “Let me tell you what comes next,” he whispers before pulling back to see my face. “First off, you quit trying to friend-zone me.”

           I laugh, trying to shove him away but failing as he keeps a tight grip around me. “I’m not! You’re just being overdramatic!”

           He feigns offense, gasping loudly. “I can’t believe you’d attack me like this. It hurts, jagiya. It really does.”

           “Yah, just get on with it.”

           “Ok, ok. You’re so impatient.” His easy smile proves that he doesn’t mean me any harm. “ Secondly, I have a question for you.”

           “And what’s that?”

           Releasing his grip around my waist just long enough to push some of his hair back, he raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to date me?”

           I blink, unsure of whether to laugh or question his health. “I- yeah. Of course I do.”

           “Ah, so you want to date me.” Jimin smirks, and suddenly I realize that I may have just gotten myself into a lot of trouble. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it. But I do have some conditions for you if you want to be my girlfriend.”

           I scoff. “Woah, technically you’re the one that asked-”

           “And you answered that yes, you want to date me. Will you hear out my conditions?” I nod impatiently. “Good. First, you must allow me to tuck you in burrito style whenever you sleep over.” I chuckle, nodding along vigorously while trying to memorize the way he’s looking at me right now. “Second, you quit texting that Jaemin guy. I’m the jealous type, and he seems sketchy.”

           Now I can’t hold back my shoulder-shaking laughter. “You realize how contradictory that is, right?”

           Completely ignoring my call on his judgement, Jimin continues. “You let me send you chocolates without complaining about getting fat. I get joint custody of Elle. You teach me how to bake bread, your mother’s recipe.”

           His soft tone makes me smile softly. “And?”

           He holds up his left hand, the red thread shining in the afternoon sun. “When this thing starts working properly again, you don’t run away from me. Let me- let me be your best friend.”

           There’s a lump in my throat now as Jimin’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “And?” I whisper.

           “And when the rest of the world is pressing in on you, let me remind you how much you are loved.”

           His grip tightens just a cinch as I let out a shaky breath before mumbling out, “How do you plan to do that?”

           Jimin’s eyes slowly drop to my lips, head tilting to the side as he smiles softly. “I have something of an idea.”

           The sound of the gate opening to let another car in – surely one of the other boys – alerts me to our ending privacy. Before Jimin can change his mind, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in close.

           The first clash of our lips is a bit sloppy, but soon Jimin is leaning in impossibly closer to better capture my lips. It’s unknown and hurried, and full of promise for the future. The only thing on my mind is the feeling of Jimin’s hands digging into my waist before finding themselves at the small of my back, making me stumble forward a step. He catches me, lips parting in a crooked grin a single second before a black SUV pulls up.

           Jimin’s cheeks are dusted light pink in the afternoon sun, but soon I’m going cross eyed as he leans in and delivers Eskimo kisses. “I knew it was a good idea.”

           “Oi! Don’t tell me you two were just making out in broad daylight,” Jin groans as he exits the SUV followed by a disgusted looking Namjoon.

           “I- no, we were…uh, I…” Jimin sputters, looking to me for help. I laugh, saying nothing as I head for the doors.

           “Namjoon, you can’t even act like you’re disgusted!” Jimin protests, hurrying after me to avoid a collision with the door like he has in previous experiences.  “Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen you and Chung-hei making out like teenagers on the couch-”

           All three boys trail after me as I stride down the hallway toward the elevator. They don’t stop their bickering as we enter the elevator and Jin pushes the fifth floor button, red in the face as he scolds the other two for their behavior.

           Leaning up against the wall, I close my eyes and smile, listening to the accusations flying around the small elevator.

           It’s good to be home.

Previous - Epilogue

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[randomtwstuff]

TWST - What They Hate + Why

Warning: kinda long, definitely unnecessary. Don’t mind me.

Riddle - rule violations; it’s been explained in his backstory in chapter 1 but he’s had basically every part of his life formed around obedience and following rules set out for him, so it makes sense that witnessing someone else go against that sort of thing would probably set him off

Trey - not having brushed his teeth before bed; Listen. I honestly have no idea why this boy like his teef so damn much. But thinking about it, him being around sweets all the time probably makes him wary of getting cavities. So there’s that.

Cater - sucking up to his older sisters; Completely understandable from a younger sibling’s standpoint.

Deuce - limited time sales; Another one that’s hard to understand without character context. But to me, this reflects on his inability to think of solutions in a pinch, and how stressing such situations probably are for him.

Ace - indecisiveness; Boy likes having a plan. Can’t argue with that. Also, his quickfire personality definitely contributes.

Leona - playing with children; And yet, he’s still a beloved uncle. But in all honesty, someone who radiates this strong of a tsundere vibe will automatically be reluctant to involve themselves in overtly emotional situations, such as anything dealing with kids.

Ruggie - being at a disadvantage; My boy’s from the streets, and most definitely has been in enough bad situations to warrant not wanting to experience such a situation again.

Jack - fighting without reason; He’s got a strong sense of justice, and works hard to get anywhere - especially grades - so doing things without a worthy reason or otherwise wasting time over starting drama and fights is against his personality. Good good boy.

Azul - relying on luck; He’s worked extremely hard at everything he’s ever done to get where he is now, and relies on his own learned methods and tools to get jobs done. So, it would make sense that relying on luck, or witnessing someone else rely on luck (and even worse, succeeding), drills directly into his being.

Jade - predictable and expected things; He and Floyd have said time and time again that if Azul were to become boring, they would leave him. And although Jade doesn’t have nearly as erratic a personality as his brother, they are close enough in motive that his sense of adventure and excitement would prevent him from being around anything overly boring - thus his trips up mountains and collecting weird mushrooms.

Floyd - shackles; I’m uncertain if this means shackles as in the object, or shackles as in he hates being restricted in any way, but I feel like it might be the second one. Floyd is a very, very free spirit whose ever-changing personality makes him unpredictable in every way. So, it fits that any method of restraint - mental or physical - would clash heavily with him.

Kalim - eating by himself; Why would anyone ever let him be alone??? My poor boy???? Alone??????????!?!?AaaaaaaAAAAA - But in all seriousness, it makes sense considering he’s probably spent a significant amount of his life surrounded by people, and the idea of having to go to a meal (or probably anything) completely alone would make him sad.

Jamil - touching bugs; Now, is it just the touching part, or do bugs in general...bug him? sorry not sorry Because both the situation of him calling in someone else to take care of a bug - maybe Yuu - because he doesn’t want to be anywhere near it should it try to crawl on him, and the situation of him freezing up at seeing one or shrieking when one lands on him are just so fucking funny. (I don’t really have any explanation for his feelings toward bugs since a lot of people hate bugs.)

Vil - intentional negligence; I had to look this word up I’m so fucking dumb Vil takes things like self care very seriously - even if his ‘routine’ is a bit lengthy and he seems harsh at times about it - and as such having to witness someone intentionally leaving themselves in a state of disarray because they simply don’t care about it would very much tick him off.

Rook - people intruding on his private life; He is a hunter. With a wall of mystery photos. And an album full of other mystery items. It seems he has no problem with other peoples’ privacy, only his. Probably because a lot of his things are weird. I still love him though

Epel - being mistaken for a woman; He wants to be ‘manly’, and as such, being called the supposed ‘opposite’ would be a blow to his attempted persona. Boy wanted to be in Savanaclaw, after all.

Idia - face-to-face conversation; Since we don’t have any other information as of right now - he’s an introvert. Who spends so much time inside, with only Ortho as his physical company, that talking to anyone in person terrifies him. Honestly, I feel like there may be more to this than just introversion, since he is quite possibly one of the most extreme cases I’ve seen in a character, but who knows, he could just be a stereotypical otaku-nerd-man character (like Levi!)

Ortho - lightning; I don’t really know enough about him to make any assumptions other than that, he’s a robot - or what many people have headcanons of, a cyborg - who runs on at least some form of power source, with its own generated energy. Lightning generates an absolute fuckton of electricity, and a human being struck by it can a.) hurt a lot, b.) permanently damage their body, or c.) fucking end them, so a robot/cyborg being struck by it - as machines being struck by lightning have shown - would be annihilated. Completely valid fear to have.

Malleus - using machines; He’s probably very old, being a fae and all, and although Lilia has shown that they play videogames and watch TV, he very well may have been raised away from it - although, he was raised at least partially by Lilia himself, so either they were both introduced to machines later on and Malleus was the only one who struggled, or he just never got used to them.

Lilia - losing things; I am unaware of any backstory to this, but it is a very valid thing to hate. I do it all the time, so it’s very relatable.

Silver - sleeping away his time; Seeing that he has been shown to fall asleep at random - possibly narcolepsy, or something else we’ll find out about later - and also him being a loyal knight to the current prince, it makes sense that the former would interrupt his duties as the latter. You can’t exactly protect someone if you’re knocked out. I mean, unless you sleep-fight. Then you’re good.

Sebek - being considered a nuisance by the Young Master, whining; I find his undying loyalty to Malleus adorable, to be honest. Having this much of a senpai crush going on would definitely make any negativity from said senpai hurt quite a lot. But what does it mean by whining - does he himself hate whining, or does he hate it when other people whine? Maybe both?

[laughing-with-god]

Pen Pal II

Words; 4.6k

“I love you so much that nothing could matter to me- not even you...only my love- not your answer.  Not even your indifference.”

Reincarnation was an interesting theory, you decided.  

It was a philosophy that held the utmost importance upon karma and charity.  In a way, it made sense. If you did something good in a past life, you should be rewarded in the next one with good fortune.  This mindset explained how some of us seem to have been born under the worst circumstances that was only added on by very odd and horrid luck that appeared in the form of people or situations.  While others have the rare ability to just waltz past life without a single hitch to hinder their enjoyment.

You deduced that you must’ve been a very wicked person in the life prior to this one.  

That could be a grand explanation for the awful series of events that have been striked upon you by an outside force whom is hell-bent on making you pay for crimes you weren’t aware you committed.  ‘Yes’, you thought, ‘I must’ve been a devilish person in my past life.’

You were cursed to forever be terrified of the world, your only sibling meant to guide you through life was murdered in front of you, your mother has gone mad and the one person you found comfort in somehow found a way to be worse than what you already knew him to be- a criminal.    

You bitterly chuckled.  

You wished he was a good-for-nothing criminal.

You would have much preferred that over what he truly is.

A serial killer.  

Tuesdays were the worst.  In your rather short and uneventful life, a pattern had formed concerning the second day of the week.  Your sister was murdered on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon. The day you were labelled with a disorder was on a Tuesday morning, right in your own home.  The day your mother had finally broke and yelled atrocious things at you that you’ve always known she thought but never voiced, was on a Tuesday evening.  And the day you discovered the jarring truth about your ‘pal’ was at 2 am while surfing the web on a Tuesday.

You were naive to be giddy at the latest letter you had received.  

Jungkook had said some rather mean things about your mother, however due to your bruised ego and lingering depression caused by the woman’s harsh put down of you; you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with his insults toward the woman who gave birth to you.  In fact, your heart felt warmed at his protective slandering. For it meant that he was offended on your behalf, that he cared of what you felt and that anyone who disgraced you was harshly judged by the critical eye of your ‘friend’. He took your side in the matter.  Like a loyal ally that you have always wanted on your side for times like this.

He mentioned that he wanted to utilize the option of calls instead of letters.  You had to admit as an old soul that writing letters to a companion was a very vintage and refreshing practice that you had grown fond of.  Childishly, you would picture yourself in a Fitzgerald novel as a lonesome and willowy woman who eagerly awaited the letters of her dear partner who was far far away.  Or maybe off to war. You supposed that reading all those books had made you a romanticist.

But there was something rather intimate about getting to hear someone’s voice despite the miles in between them.  

You wanted to please Jungkook by surprising him with a call.  And more secretly, you wanted to see if his voice matched his face in the picture he gave you or the voice in your head that would recite his letters whenever you read them.  

You imagined it being very gentle and almost musical, like the light buzz of bees on a Spring day, humming around the blooming flowers.  You hoped (and somehow just knew) you were right in this prediction.

But, you needed to find a way to make this possible.  

That’s when you seeked information in the form of the internet.  Although you loved to picture yourself in a Fitzgerald-esque, roaring twenties type of era, you couldn’t deny the usefulness of the current one that you were living in.  

According to the re-search you had gathered, a telephone account had to be set up in order for Jungkook to talk to anyone.  Also, inmates were allowed to make outgoing calls but incoming ones were not allowed. You frowned, this meant that Jungkook had to call you but you couldn’t call him.  The air of surprise was deflated.

However, you did have a role to fulfill.  Only someone from the outside could set up the calling account.  You would have to pay for the ability for Jungkook to call anyone.  

You then went onto the prison’s website and began to fill out the form for the account.  

Name: (Y/n) (M/n) (L/n)

Age: (Age)

D.o.b: (Date of Birth)

Address: (Address)

Relation to Inmate; Friend.

Card Info: (xxx-xxx-xxx)

Phone Number:  (xxx-xxx-xxx)

Prisoner;

You were stunned at the prisoner section of the form.  It wouldn’t allow you to write Jungkook’s name down, instead you had to enter numbers.  You sighed and realized that you had to get Jungkook’s number in order for the system to match him up with the account.  Luckily for you, the info of prisoners was public knowledge for anyone wishing to seek it. You opened another tab to go the the penitentiary’s website and searched for Jungkook’s name.  

A mugshot of your friend popped up. his boyishly handsome face stared almost disinterestedly at the camera, dark and glassy eyes brooding with raven strands of hair revealing his smooth forehead and framing his sharp face that was marked with intense brows, strong Romanian nose and plush berry lips that sat above his cleft chin that marked the ending point of his angular jaw.  The frosty complexion of his skin made the darkness of his features and orangeness of his jumpsuit stand out. You knew he was very good-looking, and it was a shame that he was locked up. You were sure many ladies would be all over him if it weren’t for the fact that he was stuck in an all male prison for a lengthy amount of time.

The top of his head met the 5’10 mark of the background of the mugshot, making you note the height of Jungkook which was a detail you never really thought about before.  He was tall, but most handsome men were.

Below the image was information about him.  You briefly felt as if you were violating privacy, but you consolidated yourself by reminding yourself that you simply needed his number to further the calling process.  It had to be done. Besides, Jungkook was your friend. You were positive that he wouldn’t mind.

Name: Jeon Jungkook

Height: 5’10

Weight: 154 lb

Date of Arrest; June 6th, 2018

Crime: Serial Killing, Multiple Homicides, First Degree Murder, Crimes Against Humanity

ID Number: 65709-303

Your blood ran cold.  

--

You would have made a decent journalist.  

But to be fair, it wasn’t like his crimes wasn’t that well documented.  

He was practically famous.  

A warm cup of joe is all that you had to company you as you began your plunge into the crimes of Jeon Jungkook.  It had required the use of many old news clips, dramatically written articles and even pictures of the vulgar crimes along with court documents and police reports.  Amidst this crazed quest for knowledge that was fueled by a harsh sting of betrayal, a narrative formed from the foggy woodworks. The jagged puzzle pieces of your beloved ‘Jk’ formed, creating an image that you wished to never have witnessed.  

On March 27th, 2016 an innocent woman was murdered.  Her name was Lee Ji-eun and she was a music teacher at a prestigious private high school.  She was found in her office, throat slit from ear to ear and body laying lifelessly across her desk, school papers stained scarlett red in her blood.  The killing shocked the community, she was adored by her classmates, respected by colleagues and admired in her community. No one had a clue on who could’ve committed such a random act of violence.  

On April 16th, 2017 a man called the police due to his missing wife and daughter.  The daughter, Nayeon was found in a field out in the country, throat blue from having been strangled to death.  Her mother was only a few yards away from her, bullet enlodged in the back of her head from being shot execution style.  Nayeon’s father was desperate for justice, but the police had told him that the killer was just too good.

On April 1st, 2018 another girl named Lalisa was found in her room, dead.  Unlike the other crimes, her murder wasn’t a dramatic or gory one. It had appeared that she was poisoned to death.  Up until then, the police had no leads. It wasn’t until the realized that Lalisa’s boyfriend had been missing as well.  He was caught getting in a suspicious vehicle on surveillance camera, only to never be seen again. A vehicle that was traced to Jungkook.  

Jungkook admitted the murders of all three of these girls, along with Nayeon’s mother and Lalisa’s boyfriend.  Although the boyfriend’s body was never found.

He did all of these crimes on Easter.  

The first murder of Lee Ji-eun just so happened to fall on that day.  

But like other serial killers before him, Jungkook formed a habit.  A ritual. A routine.

You noted with distaste how little the motives were discussed.  

Jungkook never told why he killed his victims.  He was silent. Even in the interrogation process, he just admitted that he was indeed the killer.  Nothing else was uttered from his lips. The trial was semi-famous, due to the fact that such a young and handsome man turned out to be a murderer.  People even called him the new Ted Bundy for his aristocratic fall from grace that was the revelation of his sick minded actions. He came from a rich family, was somewhat quiet as a student but still earned high marks.  Someone no one thought could be capable of taking five innocent lives in such a bloodthirsty fashion.

The Easter Bunny was what some struggling news station tried to nickname him in a frenzied act of getting higher viewership rates.  Turns out, the name stuck.

You shut your laptop and stared off into space.  

The five faces of the victims would forever be burned into your memory.  

You just had one question, why?

Why take away these people’s lives as if it were nothing?  What had they ever done to him? It was just so random and it puzzled you.  Jungkook was a smart man, why did he never tell anyone the reasoning for his snap?  Why did he let the press run with guessing motives and possible reasonings instead of putting the victim’s family at rest by telling them the truth?  Did he plan to take it to his grave?

What could those five people have done to make him murder so ruthlessly?  

You gulped down the last of your coffee that was somewhat chilled due to the long passage of time.  

Remorse slid itself over you body, spreading its’ inky and sticky dread until every part of your body was effected.  

You felt dirty.

You had unknowingly created a friendship with the slayer of five lives.  

A psychopath had somehow became your closest buddy.  You had seeked comfort within his sweet words.

Was this how he lured in his other victims as well?

A shudder came next.  

He lied to you.  If you had known all of this from the beginning, there would be no way that you would have tried to reach out to such person.  You fancied yourself a empathic and understanding woman, but this was just something from hell itself.

You stood and decided to take a shower, hoping that scrubbing the invisible stains of guilt would somehow ease your racing mind.  

--

It was a given that you would stop all communication with Jungkook.

You could never even attempt to play as if things were normal after this.  As much as it pained you, you would have to lose a friend.

It would be rather simple, you will stop sending letters and he would catch onto the silence and move on with his own life.  You were sure that he would have more vital concerns in that concrete jungle that was his home. Although you would miss the communication, you valued your conscious more.  

You attempted to fill your time by distracting yourself with mundane things.  You managed to stay away from your front door, not wanting to catch yourself longingly gazing at your mail slot for Jungkook’s letters.  You began binge-watching one of your favorite shows. And when this wasn’t quite enough to divert your mind and heart, you ordered a new novel online.  Reading always made you emerge yourself into other worlds, you would drown yourself into any plot at the moment. Despite not being able to relate to most characters within those free-spirited stories, you still rather bury your head in a book then spend your time thinking of Jungkook and what he was doing.

This lead to another problem.

The drawings.  

Your assumption of him being an artistic soul was indeed spot on.  He sent you three etchings, all done by pencil and depicting of you.  The first one was just a drawing of your selfie, you could tell by the hair-do, pose and outfit.  The second one was just of you, portrait style with eyes staring ahead at any observer and very detailed.  And the third one was of you tapping a pen against your chin, brows scrunched and staring down at your hands that held a piece of paper.  Right next to this image was a side note of ‘this is what I picture when I think of you writing me letters.’

It was almost unbelieveable how good he was at drawing you.  

It was as if he knew your face for years, he created it so well from just having a picture to go off of.  The cross-hatching, the shadowing, the use of texture, the blending and the perfect imagery of every feature on your face.... It was baffling. It was like looking at the lense of someone else’s perception of you.  He clearly thought you were way prettier than you did. The girl he drew was elevated from what your self-esteem would let you think yourself to be. It was so odd….but you couldn’t help but marvel at his works. It was nice of him to draw you, almost intimate.  You wondered how carefully he dissected your picture to be able to draw you in situations that he’s never seen you in.  You never thought you’d say a boy took the time to draw you, but you were flattered.

Too bad you were unable to tell him how impressed you were with such effort.

Too bad you couldn’t study them any further.

You thought about burning them.  Cutting them into millions of pieces.  Throwing them away. Letting them drift in the wind onto some random street below your apartment.

But when you worked up the nerve to initiate any of the acts of destruction, you just couldn’t.  

You may hate the artist behind the creation.  But not the creation itself.

You stored them under your bed, not wanting to spare any thought to Jungkook but also wanting to preserve the art for a later time when your heart wasn’t wounded and a certain serial killer was in your rear view mirror.  

But you couldn’t ignore the killer for as long as you would’ve liked.  

Your book arrived.  And you had to get it,

While doing so, you were faced with three envelopes addressed to you.  From Jungkook.

Your halted your actions for a split second.  It was almost second nature to feel the bubbling excitement and instinct to reach for them.  

But then those deceased five faces flashed before your eyes.  

In the end, you ignored them in favor of retrieving  your freshly purchased book.

But after you laid yourself on your couch and found yourself re-reading the same first paragraph over and over again, you realized that those letters just couldn’t be ignored.  They stubbornly beckoned your attention, a siren’s call demanding your priority. You huffed and set the book down, fixing your gaze towards the entrance of your humble nest, were the letters innocently laid.

Here you were faced with a dilemma.  

Did you trust yourself enough to read the contents of the letters and not send a response of your own?  

Would it be the right thing to even open them?  

Could you bear not knowing what he had to say to you after you haven’t made contact in a while?  

You bit your lip and contemplated the ethics at play.  

Surely, just to read the letters wouldn’t mean any harm…...right?

You had ended the ties but what was so wrong with glancing over some previous records of the relationship?  Because that’s what Jungkook’s letters would be...evidence of the past friendship you shared with him.

You honestly couldn’t bear the mystery.  

You just had to know what he had to say.  

You grabbed the letters and ripped them open in a rush to put an end to your inner turmoil.

He was worried.

He was confused.

He was hurt.

Jungkook expressed his somberness for not hearing from you.  He also voiced his concern for your well being. He was anything but mad at you, just alarmed.  That alarm was genuine from what you could tell by his growingly frantic penmanship.

This set ablaze a glowing fire inside your chest.  

The audacity of that...that...heathen.

To act so kind and compassionate when he lacked those same emotions towards his victims.  You almost wanted to laugh at his pitying tone, wondering if he had such ability when he put those five bodies six feet under.  How dare he put the blame on you for not responding back? For making you feel guilty? It was him who was at fault.

A sudden urge to inform him that his jig was up suddenly hit you.

You wanted nothing more than to shove his face in the fact that you broke free from his cute manipulative narrative concerning his mother.  In a burst of fury, you quickly grasped for a pen and paper. A rebuttal was all too ready to escape your mind and pierce his soul.

‘Dear Jungkook (or should I say Easter Bunny?)’

--

It had been a week.  

Usually, this is when you would get a response letter.  

But when you went to your mail slot and opened the incoming letter, you were left scratching your head in bewilderment.  

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I see you found out about the nickname the hideous press gave me.  

Well...I think this type of revelation is best talked over in person.

I’ll see you soon.’

It hardly seemed like a proper response to what you had said to him.  

You had exposed his truth and his despicable crimes and the only thing he had to reference was the nickname bit?  Was he avoiding the topic? Why was the letter so fucking short? And how come he mentioned seeing you in person?

A little bit of paranoia was the theme for the rest of your day.  

Logically, you knew that he had no way of seeing you.  He was locked up and the severity of his crimes would surely mean that he was heavily guarded, and even if he did manage to overcome that burden, then how the hell would he find you?  

But still….you didn’t think Jungkook was capable of murder either.  He still did that as well as lied to you to add a ripe cherry on top.  

Perhaps he was just trying to fuck with you?  To play with your head one last time and freak out the mentally ill girl as one last ‘fuck you’.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone used your fears against you. Maybe he wanted to manipulate you once more so you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder even after you two stopped conversing…..

Yes.  Getting into the mind of a killer, you would think this was the most effective way he could cause lasting harm to you from behind bars.  He was most likely snickering in his jail cell, telling his inmates about how he managed to scare his lunatic of a pen pal. He probably delighted in turning your phobia against you.  

This was the only logical explanation.  

But still, you made sure your doors and windows were locked after this letter.  Just for the sake of clarity.

--

Days have passed along with your paranoia for the oddity of Jeon Jungkook.  You were focused on getting your life back to normal. Or normality to you, considering that not much changed.  You just opted out of daydreaming of conversational topics to send to your pal along with the obvious sending of letters.  Sure, you still thought about him from time to time...but you would catch yourself in these moments and force some random chores upon yourself to occupy your brain.  

Today was a rainy day and you made a goal for yourself to finish the novel you had bought only days prior.  

About 30 minutes in, a knock at your door sounded, interrupting your leisurely reading.  

You smiled and checked the time.

Your groceries had arrived.  

You went to answer the door, making sure to grab the delivery boys’ tip on the way.

When you opened the entrance to your home, the usual boy was there, handing over two big brown bags that were overflowing with food.  You grabbed one of the bags and reached for the money to hand over so you could have to tact to grab the other bag without having to struggle to give the boy his tip, when something struck you.  

The boys’ head was ducked downwards, not show casting his face but instead the grocery store’s logo on the hat.  His hair was darker than you remembered….now that you noticed it, he was taller too. And overall just bigger….

The grocery boy you were used to seeing was of a more adolescent type of figure, you knew it would be preposterous for the boy to have such a growth spurt in only a weeks’ time.  Unless he suddenly decided to take up steroids. Confused, you tried to call out his name to get a better look.

“Renjun?”  

A moment of suffocating silence.

An icy shock of terror crashed down upon you and somehow you just knew who was under that hat without him having to look up.  

A flurry of movement commenced, marking the beginning of your doom.  

You tried to keep him out, but your reflexes weren’t fast enough,

In a haste, you dropped the bag and moved to shut the door, pressing your weight against it with all your might to keep him out.  Your body was acting faster than your brain could, not sparing a second to even comprehend how the hell he was here. You had to keep him out, he couldn’t violate your safe haven like this!  Survival instincts were kicking in.

But he was faster, and stronger and arguably more determined.  

He strode in easily, as if your attempts were at a child’s level.  Your found yourself with a large and snowy hand clasped over your mouth, preventing any hollerings for help.  

He ducked closer to you, big glassy eyes staring at your horrified expression with an almost dreamy manner.  

“Why are you shocked?  I told you I was going to see you.”

--

You never gave much thought to what it would be like to be in the presence of a killer.

Somehow, you knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this.  

You sitting on your couch with the killer wrapped around you, large frame practically enveloping your smaller one as you were forced to feel his pulsing muscles up close.  His face in near proximity to yours, big eyes absorbing your profile with an unreadable look upon his graceful face.

You were under close inspection, it had been like this for twenty minutes at least, him staring at you whilst keeping you caged under his far more capable body.  He stared at you with such focus, you found yourself wondering what possibly could have been going through that demented mind of his.

Were you next?  

Were you going to be the sixth notch under his belt?  

Why wasn’t he saying anything?  

The silence was unbearable, for you knew that when it would be broken; something very unpleasant would unfold.  You wanted the silence, but it also petrified you.

Finally, you gathered the courage to pierce the blanket of quiet.  

“A-are you going to kill me?”  

His nose scrunched up at this, transforming his stoic expression into that of confusion from a now somewhat boyish face.  His already big eyes seemed to widened and they peered into yours with a new softness that you wouldn’t expect from a killer.  

“What?  Of course not!  I just wanted to talk to you.”  

His voice was indeed what you pictured it to be, somewhat breathy and puerile but musical in a sense that could not be explained.  You didn’t have time to analyze the person behind the letters, compare him to the mental image you had in your head, when you were too busy trying not to panic and hyperventilate.  You read somewhere that if a person is ever kidnapped it’s best to not outwardly panic because it could cause the attacker to want to get rid of you sooner. With this in mind, you tried to calm your racing heart and breathing.  First, you need to find out what he wanted, convince him to trust you, and make him turn himself back in. Freaking out could get you nowhere, you must use logic as your escape plan.

“What do you want to talk about?”  You wished you sounded as calm as your voice sounded, it completely masked the chaotic state your nervous system was in.  

“My crimes.”  He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent very loudly as if the smell was addicting to his nose.  His behavior was odd, it was as if he was separated from a long lost lover who he finally found once again. He was attached to you, petting you, studying you and even breathing you in.  It was so intimate and you felt like you were being groomed for slaughter….

“Why did you do what you did?”  

Jungkook halted his cuddling for a moment to lean back and stare into your eyes with a more serious feeling.  

“They didn’t love me like I loved them….”  

You were sure you were going to die.  

He was insane.  

The killings were crimes of passion, towards innocent girls who were unfortunate to witness the side of Jungkook that you are seeing now; a love-struck and delusional man with no boundaries or sense of relationships.  

In a last effort to stay alive, you wrestled against his larger form and made a reach for the door.  

To your surprise, nothing prevented you from getting up.  He didn’t stop you.

“What are you going to do Y/n?  Leave?” He called out from behind you in a cynical and delighted tone.  

“Sugarplum, you know damn well you can’t go out there.”

Terrible, terrible realization dawned upon you like a poisonous fog that forced your eyes to water and lungs to clog.  You were only a foot away from your front door, but you knew you couldn’t venture behind it. Your safe haven has become your own prison.

“You’re stuck here with me.”  

[boobtubedude]

Reposting my original “Lost” series finale review

(Originally posted May 23, 2010, on Zap2It. RIP, Zap2It.)

So here’s the deal: this will not be a complete recap of the series finale of “Lost.” To try to make complete and coherent sense of what just dropped our way would be 1) impossible, and 2) be a disgrace to what just happened. Because what just happened isn’t something you instantly react to, but rather mull over during the course of a few days, weeks, months, or years. After all, that was the final episode. We have all the time in the world to think about its implications until we “move on.”

And yes, I use the phrase “move on” specifically due to the use of the phrase by Christian Shephard in the sideways universe, which we know now to be real only in the emotional sense of the world. All throughout the season, the producers of the show have assured us that what happens over there had stakes and meanings, and this is still completely true in the most basic of senses. Neither the pro-epilogue camp nor the pro-Island timeline had it exactly right, even though both camps had valid perspectives to bring to the table and pieces of the puzzle in hand. What “Lost” brought instead was a third perspective, one that nobody really saw and one that I bet made a core section of its audience completely and utterly insane with anger.

Looking at the finale from a perspective of mythology isn’t the best way to go about it. (I started to jot down “So who put the stone in the devil cave in the first place?” before slapping myself silly.) Looking at the finale from a perspective of plot probably isn’t the best ay, either. (Waaaaay too much time spent on getting Ajira 316 up and running again, especially considering the sideways resolution. And there are enough holes in the overall plot as a whole to dig a few dozen wells down towards the light inside all of us.) But looking at it from an emotional perspective, I thought the finale was a masterpiece.

In a sense, “The End” was a love letter from the show to itself and, hopefully, to the audience as well. But it didn’t pay off donkey wheels and Dharma Initiatives but the core characters of the show themselves. The sideways universe did offer a second chance, but not in the way that those that saw the sideways world as a chance to live their lives free from the Island. Instead, it offered each character a tremendous grace note, one felt both by the characters but also the audience at home. When these people “flashed” to their Island lives, they didn’t flash to epic moments in Island history: they flashed to empty jars of peanut butter and freshly picked flowers and all the small moments that make up a relationship.

If the show had to get one of three aforementioned elements right (character, mythology, plot), then it absolutely focused on the right one. As of this moment, writing in the immediate aftermath of what I just saw, I could care less about what happened to Kate and Company once they left the Island. The point of the show seems to be that what you do is less important than the meaning behind what you do. And moreover, if you live those lives in the correct manner, then the specifics are null and void. In the end, you arrive at the same destination. (In Richard’s case, you arrive there with newly graying hair, and the chance to actually buy the eyeliner you’ve long been accused of using.)

Now, let’s talk about that sideways destination itself. If put on the spot, here’s what I think we’re supposed to take away from it: As Island Protector, Hurley envisioned a way to give a gift back to those with whom he shared his time on the Island. Mother had her style, Jacob had his style, and Jack had his extremely interim style. But placing Hurley in ultimate charge of the Island? Brilliant, and not just because I predicted this last Fall and am happy I got at least SOMETHING right.

He’s the absolute perfect person to take the Island from what it was (something to be protected) into what it should be (something to be shared). In a show full of selfish people, Hurley is the epitome of unselfishness. Go back to the pilot episode: he’s distributing food on the first night (including a double dose for Claire, eating for two at the time). In “Everybody Hates Hugo,” he once again institutes a massive redistribution of foodstuffs. In both the Island timeline and sideways one, he uses wealth as a means to help others, giving away his cash rather than hang onto it. So having him established as the final Protector of the Island that we see (though, I imagine, not the final one by any means) worked for me.

What I imagine did not work for a LOT of you is the fact that we’ve spent one-half of the final season of the show watching events that would have been solved in “LA X” had Haley Joel Osment been on the flight. It’s a feeling that I have sensed coming for a while: the sideways world was doing such a damn good job of providing emotionally resonant moments that it eventually turned into an overwhelming attractive option for both the characters and the viewers. In fact, it turns out that the major players had absolutely no problem moving on once they made their emotional connections/breakthroughs, and instead willingly moved onto whatever lies on the other side of that white light.

As such, I look at the sideways world now as something created by Hurley (with Ben’s help) as a stopping ground for all major players in the “Lost” universe to meet at once, irrespective of when or how they died. As Christian says, there is no “now” over there. Time is just a relative construct created by people who are used to seeing events progress in a linear manner. What does Hurley ever want? For his friends to be happy! So what does he do? Well, he doesn’t build a golf course, he builds a space for them to somehow connect after shuffling off their mortal coil and all end up getting the moments of happiness that eluded them, making connections that had been previously missed, and getting forgiveness once thought impossible. They don’t have to be alive to have these things matter once achieved in the sideways universe, which is why I was behind the ultimate explanation 100%.

In the end, electromagnetism had nothing to do with the sideways world. There was no Faustian bargain between Eloise Hawking and The Man in Black. I’ve spent the second half of the season (ever since “Happily Ever After”) arguing that theory, and I’m delighted to be wrong. Why? It’s easier to buy “Hurley’s gift” as a reason as opposed to trying to throw Schroedinger’s cat as a reason for the sideways world. And that “gift” yielded scene after scene in the sideways world that reminded us all why we care so much about this show: its characters. I’m sure everyone had their particular favorites: for now, I’m putting Sawyer/Juliet in the pole position with Charlie/Claire as a surprising second. I’ll take scenes like this over lengthy exposition of the true nature of the glowing cave any day.

It’s obviously easy to say, “Well, the characters are happy, so we should be happy.” But clearly it’s not that simple. After all, these characters are fictional, constructs of the writing staff, whom I am sure went into hiding knowing that there would not only be questions but flaming torches/pitchforks aimed their way once this episode dropped. If we didn’t care about these characters, then there wouldn’t be such anger. Either you read interviews and now feel deceived, or you’re generally displeased that our characters are all dead. I’m not going to tut-tut you from that perspective, since it’s your perspective and you’re totally welcome to it.

To me, anything in the sideways world ended up being something of a bonus, both a meta-level and a narrative level. The show didn’t do the one thing I prayed it wouldn’t: negate the sacrifices and deaths on the Island timeline for some sort of reboot/do over in the sideways timeline. So, we got to see really interesting combinations and remixes of existing characters in unusual settings, with those settings driven by a combination of subconscious psychological desires and latent psychological holdups. (Kate sees herself as the innocent victim, rather than an actual killer, but is still on the run. Sawyer fashions himself a do-gooder, but is still unable to shake the memory of his parents. Jack invents a domestic life he never had, inserting a new body in his life in the form of a son to replace the father he could never find.)

On a character level, the sideways world allowed these characters the chance to let go in ways that they were unable to do in their actual lives. To fault the show for creating such a space when we have so often lamented the unfairness or abruptness of their deaths seems a bit hypocritical to me. For example, let’s take Sun/Jin. Many howled when they died, unable to believe two seasons apart boiled down to one episode; many others noted that it didn’t move them, due to the couple being alive in the sideways world. Turns out, the sideways world gave them another chance to “be together,” as the latter group suspected, but also honoring the sacrifice that tore up the former. I’d love to call this win/win, but I’m not sure I’d get many takers on this.

Let’s take another example: John Locke. Here’s a man that died a potentially pitiful death in “The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham,” only to have his life honored and vindicated in the finale. Without inspiring Jack, the good doctor doesn’t return to the Island, and never becomes Protector, and never stops The Man in Black, and never passes off the torch to Hurley who in turn creates a special world in which Locke not only gets to have the relationship with Jack they never had on the Island, but also gets to forgive his murderer. I could give a flying fig about the other people on the outrigger if I get payoffs such as this instead.

And, as many of us suspected, the show closed on a familiar image, in a familiar place. Some might find fault with the heart of the Island being so near the place where the show started, but if The Island has taught us anything, it’s that looking and seeing are two different things. Charlie couldn’t “see” his guitar until he chose to give up his drugs. The cave is no different: Jack couldn’t see it until he was ready to see it. That’s the work he had to do all along. By bookending the series around a man opening up his eyes to the unknown and closing them as a man who learned what it meant to truly live, “Lost” encapsulated its’ primary thematic concern: what it means to live and learn through other people. They lived together, and none of them died alone. Not in the end. Perfect.

I’ve tried to thematically address the biggest issues/ideas of tonight’s episode. I realize I am short on specifics, but I also realize that there’s probably a huge need on your part to talk about this episode as quickly as possible. So I’m going to end things here, but know that this is just the beginning. Over at Zap2it’s Guide to Lost, we’re going to spend all week looking back at this episode, and by extension, the series itself. Next week, we’ll be continuing our look back at this ambitious, epic, emotional, imperfect, messy, glorious, unique show. I look forward to hearing your comments below, and I look forward to continuing the discussion with you further over on the blog throughout the week.

[dramaqueeenamby]

4AM:16.3

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN THIS STORY, CLICK HERE.

Words: 4.7K

Warnings: Smut and a NSFW GIF

****NOT PROOFREAD****

MASTERLIST---- BEFORE you read this chapter, read WITHOUT ME. 

4AM

“Nkiruka”

T’Challa stared at his wife, the sun raining down on her, illuminating her bronzed complexion that was glowing and radiating, compliments of her pregnancy.

The two walked the beach, their hands intertwined, but she kept her gaze forward, eyes on the extensive span of sun and sand.

He eyed her quizzically. “What?”

Bashira swallowed and thought of the slightly abrasive feeling that resulted from her walking barefoot, sand imbuing itself between her toes, rubbing against the pads of her feet. “That….that is what I named her.” T’Challa was perplexed, and she knew it, the young queen taking a deep breath before the finished her statement. “The baby.”

Instantly, T’Challa knew what she was referring to…..who she was referring to.

He watched her chuckle sadly, her head finally dropping as she blinked a couple times. “It was too early to tell the sex, but…..I’ve always felt, in my heart,…...that it was a girl.”

His chest tightened and lips pushed together as he also turned his gaze away. “It means-”

“The best is still to come,” he quietly supplied, Bashira tentatively looking over at him.

“A life free of pain, free of heartache, and free of the instability that we would have brought her at the time,” she explained, cognizant of how his grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. “T’Challa-”

“Don’t,” he calmly interrupted, turning to her as they both ceased walking. “It...it is as you said, we were not ready.”

“Let me finish,” she countered, prompting him to raise his chin and prepare for what else she had to say. “Regardless as to whether or not we were ready, it was wrong of me to make such a decision without consulting you-”

“I could not tell you what to do with your body-”

“Which was carrying our child,” she argued. “No, you could not have forced me to carry out the pregnancy, but you damn sure deserved a say in the matter, something of which I deprived you of, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“Bashira-”

She held up her hand. “We both have made our mistakes, T’Challa. It would be hypocritical for me to not own up to mine the way you have owned up to yours.”

As he pondered her words, she reached up to cup his face. “I know that forgiveness takes time-”

“I’ve already forgiven you, entle-”

“Not me,” she sadly shook her head. “Yourself.” Bashira watched him visibly tense. “I know you, T’Challa. All too well. I know that you blame yourself for the abortion-”

His jaw tensed. “My actions resulted in your feelings of helplessness-”

“No, they contributed to it,” she clarified. “I had my own unresolved feelings that also played a large role. I was looking at it as some sort of competition between myself and my sister. We both played a role, and we both blamed ourselves for various reasons, but blame gets us nowhere but a dysfunctional circle of hurt.” He listened to her, her words beginning to resonate deeply with him, her hand soft and warm against his skin, her touch granting him a sense of calmness.

Much like her presence.

He shut his eyes and sighed heavily. “I love you.”

Bashira smiled warmly and brought his hands to her mouth. “I know.” He watched her slowly start to back away, her eyes holding a sense of mischief as she pulled him with her. “Now come, we have much more exploring to do.”

-------

His kisses were soft, affectionate, tender by nature, such a stark contrast to the imposing figure who emanated power and authority as both warrior and king. His fists were on either side of her, pushed into the mattress, similar to how hers were located slightly behind her, bracing her as she leaned back, remembered the pillow behind her.

T’Challa’s hand caressing her leg, both of which were spread, her knees bent as she left herself open to her, caused a moan to leave her mouth. In response, T’Challa lifted his fists and went to cup her face, deepening their kiss.

Bashira’s hands left the mattress, holding onto his shoulders as he started to lower over her, forcing her to start to fall back on the bed. Though her bump created a slight barrier between them, it wasn’t enough to cause him to break their kiss.

Bashira inhaled deeply as his hands traveled all over her, starting with her sensitive nipples, her bump (where he spent the longest….for obvious reasons) and stopping at her center.

She unconsciously clenched his biceps as his fingers lightly caressed her lips, his digits soaked with her growing arousal.

“T’Challa,” she breathed raggedly, slamming her eyes shut as he started to insert his index and middle finger but stopped halfway to apply the slightest amount of pressure to her clit.

Hearing his name caused the king to drag his lips from hers to the outline of her jaw as he spoke against her Inflamed skin. “Did I hurt you?” Fire formed in his eyes as he watched hers roll back from him resuming his torturous caressing.

“What hurts is not having you inside of me yet,” she replied in a pained voice, T’Challa watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she tried to move her body downward in an effort to feel his lengthy digits penetrate her.

He chuckled, bringing his face to her chest, taking an erect nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over her areola. “So impatient.”

“No. I’m libidinous,” she whimpered as he continued to suck on her sensitive breast while one hand kneaded her and the other continued to fervently rub her folds, her desire pooling by the second. “And-ahh,” T’Challa felt her body start to arch off the bed as he finally entered her, his jaw clenching as he felt her strain against him.

He released her with an audible pop, “so tight.” Bashira unintentionally closed her legs against his hand as he continued to work her after sliding in a third finger. “You’re not ready for me yet, entle.”

Bashira fisted the blanket and suppressed a groan as he started to kiss his way down her core, affectionately staring at her bump for a few extra seconds before he was met with his destination, the sight causing his dick to twitch as he licked his lips.

T’Challa easily lifted her smooth legs over his shoulders, Bashira’s moans a song of encouragement and guidance for the salacious king as he gave her clitoris a light flick. His hands tightened around her thighs as the minute act caused her hips to buck, her dripping pussy momentarily pushed against his face.

He growled, his weighty dick fully erect, the top coated with pre-cum.

“But you will be.”

------

Bashira took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she attempted to regain her breath. A small smile crept upon her face when she felt her husband’s lips on the back of her neck, his arm going to rest on her side, his fingers twirling against her bump.

“I love you,’ he mumbled against her skin which was covered in a light sheen of sweat as he slowly slid out of her, his absence from between her legs depriving her of his warmth.

“I know,” she whispered, opening her eyes as she carefully turned on her back and looked up at him, his hand immediately clasping over hers. “Perhaps a bit too much.”

He chuckled at her joke and grazed his lips over hers. “That round was your idea.”

“Lies.”

“Hmm.”

“T’Challa,” he raised his eyebrows. “We still have to decide on a name.”

“We do,” he agreed as Bashira smiled happily and pulled the sheet to her chest as reached over, T’Challa instinctively holding her hips while she retrieved her kimoyo bracelet off the nightstand. “What are you-”

“I purchased an ebook that contains over 1,000 African baby names-”

“1,000?” He frowned. “Bashira-”

“I think that is plenty enough options-”

“I was thinking T-”

Bashira’s eyes widened as she looked over at him with lucid disdain. “Absolutely not.”

“You did not even hear-”

“T’Challa,” she brought her hand to cup his face. “I adore you, truly. But I am sick of your family’s infatuation with names that begin with T.”

He frowned. “We do-”

“T’Shan, T’Chaka, T’Challa,” she started to list off more evidence as a faint hint of a smile appeared on his face. She was adorable when she was upset. “Our son will not be named T’Chamu.” He feigned a look of interest as her eyes expanded. “T’Challa!”

He broke his facade and captured her lips for a brief kiss. “Relax, sthandwa sam.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am serious, T’Challa.” As she continued to rant, the young king was struck with an idea. “There is nothing wrong with your name per se, but I want our son’s to have meaning and substance.” So consumed in her heartfelt explanation, Bashira was only partially paying attention as T’Challa’s hands slipped to her thigh. Her hand naturally grabbed his forearm as he went on his back while carefully swinging her on top of him. “It needs to be sentimental, formidable, yet applicable.” Bashira unconsciously reached out to hold onto the headboard, one hand planted on T’Challa’s chest as he lifted her and slowly lowered her on top of him, closing his eyes at the comfort of her warmth. “Your name means ‘he who put the knife where it belonged-”

He looked at her, hands still on her hips. “Are you honestly suggesting that such a definition is not applicable…..for me?”

She glared down at him. “Of course, I think it applicable, but I’d rather not think of you and stabbing in the same thought.” He rolled his eyes. “Now, as I was-” Bashira stopped and looked down, finally cognizant of what he’d done. “T’Challa!” He feigned innocence while she quietly groaned. “You are trying to immobilize me.”

“Never.” He smiled almost slyly. “Do not move. Just…sit.” She rolled her eyes. “One who predicts good things to come.”

She looked down at him and darted her eyes from side to side before squinting slightly. “That is what my name means.”

He brought his hand to the middle of her stomach, rubbing small circles. “It is.”

Bashira tried her best to hide her smile. “Do you think it applicable?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”

He answered without hesitation. “Because I haven’t felt such happiness since the day you decided to gift me another chance.”

Bashira’s smile dropped, her eyes focusing on his as she allowed his words to oscillate in her mind. And heart.

“You never cease to amaze me, T’Challa Udaku.” She spoke quietly, placing her hand over his as she peered over at him. “Never.”

“I am aware,” he said smugly as she rolled her eyes.

“There goes the moment,” she muttered and shook her head. “See how you distr-”

“Iminathi.” He interrupted as Bashira’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “We should name him Iminathi. It means-”

“They are with us,” she finished in a small voice, her eyes dropping to their conjoined hands. “Your mother and my father….” she trailed off with a small smile.

T’Challa had to stop himself before he said something that he shouldn’t. Yet, he could not help the next statement that left his mouth. “Death...is not the end.”

She smiled warmly. “Never.” A beat. “I love it.” He watched her carefully remove her bracelet, tossing it on the dresser before she leaned over, her hands capturing his and pushing them against the pillow behind him on either side of his head. “Do you know what else I love?” A hiss escaped his mouth as she gradually moved her hips in a back and forth motion. “Being with you.”

------

“T’Challa Udaku, if I am not dressed appropriately for wherever you are taking me…-”

He rolled his eyes and looked over at his wife whose face was bare of makeup, her hair styled in a way that complimented her natural beauty, her outfit just enough to cause him to question whether he even wanted them to leave the peaceful confines of their 5,000 sq. ft. presidential suite.

“You look fine, entle.” He complimented, bringing her hand to his mouth and running his lips over her knuckles. “You always do.”

Bashira rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”

“Then why do you continue to question it?”

“I don’t question it,” she sassed, reaching her arms up and placing them around his neck. “I question you.”

“Hmm.” He placed his arms around her, her bump pushing against his core.

“You seem rather biased when it comes to me.” She noted, her eyes squinting almost in an accusatory tone.

“I’d do anything for you,” he hummed against her forehead. “Is that a problem?”

Before Bashira could respond, the elevator bell dinged which let them know that they’d reach their floor, T’Challa sneakily dropping his hands to her ass, giving a light squeeze. “T’Challa….”

He winked as she flipped him off and giggled quietly as he placed a kiss against her temple, the doors sliding open in the midst of their sweet embrace, Bashira’s mouth dropping as she saw who waited on the other side.

“Tamia?”

The former SHIELD agents smiled as she gave the queen a one over. “Big and pregnant yet you’re still just as beautiful. Yes, I am immensely jealous.”

“Oh my Bast,” Bashira gasped and walked out, going over to hug the woman she hadn’t seen in over a year. “What are you-” Her eyes landed on Steve and Sam who stood in the back. “What is going on?” Her smile dropped as she quickly remembered their statuses as wanted fugitives. “You cannot be out here. What if someone recognizes-”

“This island is Wakandan territory.” T’Challa supplied, coming from behind, his arms crossed over each other. “The US has no jurisdiction over here.”

“It’s good to see you, T’Challa.” Steve nodded as the two men shook hands.“Bashira.” He spoke as Sam also gave her a quick hug, aware of T’Challa’s watchful eye. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you,” she grinned, Tamia placing her hand on Bashira’s stomach.

“It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Bashira nodded happily but noticed a sense of sadness on the other young woman’s face. “You’re so blessed.” Before Bashira could comment on that, Tamia smirked. “I take it your husband didn’t tell you that he allows us to live here as a means-”

“Wait, you all stay here?” Bashira interrupted.

Tamia chuckled. “It’s home base. We still go out when Natasha gets word of a situation that needs handling, but….for now, this is home.” Bashira remained quiet, allowing the information to settle with her. “Nat’s not here right now….thank God.”

Bashira cracked a small smile. “It really is good to see you, Tamia. We have much to catch up on.”

Tamia looked at Bashira’s bump. “It appears we do.” The two shared a small laugh. “But first, we enjoy the show.”

Bashira frowned. “What show?”

------

“That was so amazing!” Bashira shouted, holding onto Tamia’s arm as the two walked out of the Colosseum.

“It was pretty good,” Sam admitted as Steve chuckled. “And I don’t even like musicals or plays-”

“Is that why I saw you crying during Mufasa’s death-”

“Woman, I told you that there was something in my eyes.”

Tamia smacked her lips. “There wasn’t anything in your eyes when you rudely stomped over and ruined my picture with Nick Afoa.”

“That’s cause Afoa was getting a little too friendly with my lado.” Sam snickered as Bashira bit her lip to hide her amusement at the bickering between the two. “Shit, Simba need to count his blessings that he ain’t go join Mufasa sooner than expected.”

“Sam!”

As the two engaged in bickering, Bashira took the opportunity to go over to T’Challa who was on the phone with Okoye. She wrapped her arms around him, T’Challa easily accepting her embrace, kissing the top of her head as she rested her against his chest.

“Thank you, General.” He started to end the call, Bashira certain that her presence being the cause. “I will call you tomorrow.” A few more seconds and he hung up, Bashira waiting no time to speak.

“You know how much I adore The Lion King.”

“And other movies with talking animals.” He chuckled, giving her his full and undivided attention.

She ignored that, her eyes focused on him. “You arranged for an entire musical production to come here and perform for me. A private showing...for me.” He wiped at her face as a few tears spilled out. “I love you, T’Challa Udaku. Immensely. More than words can describe.” A beat. “And I’m riding you senseless when we can back to the penthouse.”

The last portion caused the young king to smile. “Shall we skip dinner than?”

Bashira chuckled. “Not unless you want me to pass out.” T’Challa’s gaze darkened. “Kumkani!”

He shook his head and brought his lips down to hers. “I love you too.” As she smiled against him, he quickly remembered what he still needed to do. “Go. Talk to Tamia. I must discuss something with Captain Rogers.”

Slightly reluctant, Bashira pouted and grabbed his face for another kiss before walking back over by Tamia.

“I must admit,” Steve started, crossing his arms as T’Challa quietly sauntered over. “I was a bit surprised when you said that you were coming here. Especially when you said that you were bringing Bashira.”

T’Challa nodded. “She wanted us to get away.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So you bring her to the place where you’re harboring fugitives?”

T’Challa ignored his comment. “I have something to ask of you Steve, and I need you to be completely honest.”

The African King’s tone took the man once known as Captain America by surprise. Though he knew T’Challa to be a rather stoic individual, there was always a sense of ease that accompanied the two of them, an understanding.

This was far from that.

“Okay.”

T’Challa fixed his jaw. “Should she ever need anything….could she call on you?”

The question took Steve by surprise as he adjusted his stance and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “You mean Bashira?”

“Yes.”

Now he was really confused, why was one of the most protective, private, and prideful asking such a thing. Almost everyone knew that T’Challa was never one to ask anyone for anything, yet here he was, doing just that. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t making sense.

Yet…..confusion or not, Steve’s answer would always be the same.

“Of course,” he breathed. “After everything you’ve done for us, what you’re doing for Bucky….how could I not?” T’Challa said nothing, hiding his relief. “Why do you ask?”

Steve had a feeling he already knew what T’Challa would say even though Sam’s walking over to them probably didn’t help.

“If I hear one more thing about that Nick dude,” Sam complained as T’Challa lifted his eyes to signify irritation. “He wasn’t even all that. Now Nala-”

“I heard that,” Tamia called out.

“Oh, but you didn’t hear me when I was trying to stop you from drooling over a grown man dressed like a lion?”

Steve shook his head and looked over to T’Challa to see that warrior was already heading over to his wife.

“Hey,” Steve turned his head to Sam as he gestured to where T’Challa previously stood. “What was that about?”

The soldier looked back over at his friend who caught his wife from behind, wrapping his arms around her as she held onto his forearms. He sighed.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied with complete honesty. “But I have a feeling….it’s nothing good.”

“Nothing good at all.”

------

“Tell me something,” Bashira questioned, leaning back against her husband’s broad chest, her hand going to rest over his which was hidden under the water, planted on her stomach.

He chuckled, his other hand lifting from the H20 and bringing it to the top of her naked shoulder, his eyes following the trickling of droplets as they slid down her soft skin. “Like?”

She shrugged, leaning her head back so that she was looking up at him. “Anything.”

T’Challa looked down at her, her clean face, rounder than before because of pregnancy weight gain yet equal, if not more, beautiful than ever before. “You never were much for specificity.”

She grinned broadly, softly, his eyes focusing on how her nose crinkled ever so slightly from the act. “I think you have enough of that for the both of us.” Bashira giggled quietly as his head dropped against her neck, his lips pecking her wet skin. “T’Challa.”

“I have no desire to return back home.”

Bashira frowned at his ‘something,’ the mother-to-be shifting her upper body so that she could look at him. “What?”

“You said something.”

She lightly glared before shaking her head. “You mean…you wish we could stay longer?”

“Indefinitely,” he corrected, his hand disappearing underneath the bubbles and coming to rest on the side of her chest, his thumbs lightly caressing her breast. “No throne. No council. No toxic environment, relationships. No secrets.” She watched a brief pang of sadness flash in his brown eyes. “In this place, it seems as though time moves slowly, if at all.”

Bashira was having slight difficulty with this confession of his. “So you wish for me to be pregnant forever.”

He offered a small and crooked smile. “At the rate you have been going, it would probably end up feeling as such.”

She rolled her eyes and lightly slapped his chest, yet offered no rebuke because she knew he was right. In fact, she’d forgotten their joint bubble bath was really only supposed to be a brief respite before they went at it again.

“Well, I think we both know that we cannot stay.” She sighed sadly as she too started to contemplate her life if she was not 1/2 ruler of a country, if her husband wasn’t who he was, and carried such heavy burdens on his shoulders. “However, I do think that we should return. Frequently. Maybe even annually.” She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent, so she continued. “I know the children would like it here. We can possibly even get Steve to babysit. Or Tam-“

“Children?” She was somewhat surprised by how quiet his voice was, a far departure from his typical tone.

“Yes, children.” Bashira smiled almost bashfully, finding his hand under the water and interlacing their fingers. “What? Did you think that I would be okay with only you having a twin?” She scooted up and brought her lips to kiss his jaw, his beard tickling her mouth. “No, Kumkani. I’m giving you your boy. I want my girl.”

Again, Bashira waited for him to say something, yet all he did was stare down at her. She could see that he was deeply thinking, the wheels in his head turning, but it bothered her to no end that she couldn’t figure out just what he was thinking.

Finally, her smile dropped. “T’Challa?”

He blinked a few times, her eyes never leaving his face.

“I apologize-I just….” he chuckled quietly as she brought her hand to lightly rub up and down his bicep. “I suppose I never thought I would see the day where you would willingly want another child with me.”

A strange sense of warmness at his words. It was rare to see the man feared by so many be so vulnerable and open, but it was also these small occurrences where she was just reminded even more why she’d fallen for him before and now, after their journey to repair their marriage.

“Well, I do.” She kissed his shoulder, the water wetting her lips and chin. “At least two. No more than five. Finally, his eyes averted, leaving hers as Bashira’s gaze darkened as lustful thoughts started to infiltrate her mind. “And you know what else?” She asked quietly, moving so that she could get on her knees, T’Challa immediately going to help her, his hands on her hips as she straddled him, her body partially emerging from the water, revealing her heavy, dripping breasts as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hmmm,” T’Challa hummed quietly, successfully evading the questioning that would have come about if his wife knew the thoughts really floating around his head. The guilt. The regrets. The sadness.

“I do not wish them to be far apart in age,” she murmured, slowly lowering her lips down on his, T’Challa forcing his worrisome thoughts away as he focused on the way Bashira’s teeth lightly tugged on his bottom lip.

“Entle,” he reluctantly broke her kiss, his eyes shutting as she reached into the water and slowly started stroking him. “We can’t….not here….the water…” his breath caught in his throat as she lightly pulled on his balls. “It is unsafe.”

“Well then,” Bashira removed her hand from him, T’Challa releasing a sigh of relief as she reached past and behind to hit the button that drained the tub, the sound of the water rushing down the drain hitting his ears. “Let us go somewhere….” T’Challa brought his hands to cusp her damp ass as she ran her tongue alongside the perimeter of his ear. “safe.”

------

It was almost 4AM when T’Challa was awoken from his sleep, the king also rendered exhausted from the strenuous lovemaking that consumed his time since arriving on the island.

However, he was easily stirred from his slumber as he looked down at his wife who was moaning and twisting in her sleep.

“Bashira,” he whispered, bringing his hand to the top of her head, dropping it to her cheeks when he felt something wet. She was crying.

“No. Please don’t go.” She whimpered, her head going from side to side. “Come back.”

“Bashira,” he spoke more forcefully when he realized what was going on. She was having a nightmare. “My lo-”

“No,” she was starting to cry harder, pushing him away as he sat up all the way. “Get away from him.”

“Bashira!” He shouted, hating having to use such a tone of voice with her, but she wasn’t responding, and her distress was becoming more alarming.

“NO!” She screamed, shooting up at a surprisingly fast pace considering how far along she was, her eyes wide, her chest heaving. “T’Challa.” She looked over at him and immediately fell into his chest, the King holding her close against him. “You’re here.”

He frowned as she clutched onto him for dear life. “Of course I am.”

“It was awful.” She sniffled through her sobs as he rubbed her back in an effort to comfort her. “You-you were dying.” Her words caused him to momentarily still, something that she, thankfully, didn’t pick up on. “And I-I couldn’t save you. I kept trying, but n-n-nothing worked.”

He shut his eyes. “Hey hey,” he murmured, cupping her face and kissing her nose as she shut her eyes and held onto his wrists. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. I’m right here. I’m...I’m fine.”

She rested her forehead against him as he sighed sadly and went to lay back down, taking her with him as she curdled into his side, his arms secured around her.

“It felt so real,” she choked as he tried to continue to console her. “I thought-I thought that y-y-ou were gone.”

“Shhh,” he again quieted her, thankful when he picked up on her heartbeat starting to return to normal. “Everything will be fine, sthandwa sam.”

And though his words seemed to start to resonate with her as her sobs slowly began to diminish and sleep overcame her once again, T’Challa started to question so many things.

For the first time, wondering if he truly thought everything through. Was he really trying to protect her? Or was he only trying to spare himself?

It seemed as though in his quest to save her ….he’d damned her.

----

So much foreshadowing and irony. 

-----

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[ralfstrashcan]

3x11 Reaction / Commentary

So I haven't even started the episode and I'm already confused.

Why did Netflix put 3B in a separate folder? I mean, they didn't with 2B. What's the matter with that. Or is this just the German Netflix??

Smoooooothe move. Somewhere Derek Hale is smiling proudly.

Wtf why they so slow. I was half expecting this to be a simulation or sth because they took ages to arrive and then were walking super chill???

Seelie guy doesn't use this obvious distraction of the others to try and escape, since he knows he's just a minor character and shouldn't interfere.

Beautiful grieving sequence, especially Jace with the sketch of himself. I knew there would be a portrait of him in there before he even turned the page, I could feel it. I love how sensitive and therefore predictable the show is.

Ooooh nooooo Clary is still aliiiiiive, who whould have thought?!?!?! Okay sorry haha I had to.

lol didn't he look in a mirror recently and realize there's still no real resemblance? I mean, at least now he's not charred anymore, so I guess there's more resemblance than before, but you know what I mean. And I get it, this is supposed to be a parallelism to Lilith saying the same thing, but if memory serves right, at this point in time Jonathan was a) in a thick glass casket and b) dead so I'm wondering how he could have heard that.

wtf I'm getting sooo mixed signals from him. Does he want to give off creeper vibes or play house? Because he's kinda doing both?? Play Creeper House???

YEAH LITERALLY I WANT TO SEE THEIR HEATING BILLS

This...... doesn't sound as reassuring as it sounded in your head, Jonathan.

So, points for Clary for that ploy, but my heart is already pre-emptively breaking for Jonathan when he finds out she's playing him. The poor guy just wants family after being used and abused his whole life, man. Is that too much to ask.

More points for Clary for being sensible and grabbing a coat!!

“Clary, come on. You can't go out there. You're never gonna survive.”

Hahaha that had me laughing out loud. So Clary.

Okay, minus points for Clary for not actually wearing the coat. You had a winning streak of common sense but all good things must end, I guess.

Picturesque. But, uh, since Jonathan isn't following her she could slow down. And if she was a Slytherin, she would have waited til after breakfast with her daring escape.

LISTEN I LOVE THIS CASUAL DOMESTICITY

Also if you're more make-up versed than I am (which, admittedly, isn't very hard) and realized something was off about the way Magnus held that eyeliner stick (?) then check lynne-monstr's eyeliner salt club tag because it's hilarious. I also want to rec volunteer_of_hufflepuff's fic smile even though your heart is breaking because it's awesome.

...........................really. Really. That's how they want to play it? Ugh, okay. Ugh.

You know, I've had a whole lengthy extensive (dare I say exhaustive) rant ripening in my head since I saw this bit in the sneak peek but I'm just not in the mood, so let me cut it short: I get Simon's reaction emotionally, since losing Clary must be a horrible experience for him, but I'm still bitter about early 3A where blasting that werewolf across Taki's yard and knowing he might never walk again didn't bother Simon for one second. Repercussions should always matter, regardless of how close you are to the person affected.

Oh dear, she's still running. And her hair still looks like that?

Sure. Also

How can he keep up with her when he's walking and she's running? I mean he's not that much taller than her. Or does she run ten feet, pause to gasp and pant a little, runs again, stop and go, y'know? So on average she's just powerwalking.

Ok srsly I need to stop this nonsensical commentary.

Yeah and I guess he didn't notice the Clave-approved vampire-torture-sunlight construction Aldertree installed in this very same office (shown in 2x04 if you care to remember).

........who are you and what did you do to Alec Lightwood? You seriously want to tell me he'd consider not bringing up a violation of the Accords, and more importantly power abuse and torture, because of political reasons and he's “scared” to lose his standing with Jia? Please. He'd be enforcing Clave law. He'd be well within his right. We're talking about the guy who flat out refused to do the Inquisitor's bidding because it went against his moral code. Compared to that, this is a walk in the park. So. Please.

“I understand the kind of pain you're in, Jace.”

“No you don't. I'm sorry, you don't.”

“You're right...

Oh my god this isn't about Clary, or at least not for the most part. Jace is frikking traumatized because he wasn't in control of his body or his actions or his frakking mind for days. Btw I'm actually impressed and surprised they bothered to focus on anything but the Clary-Drama, namely Jace second-hand-killing like 33 people. And Imogen. And almost Alec. The way I see Jace he'll focus on his guilt, not the pain he feels over Clary's loss. Clary will be on his mind and that's one more thing to feel shitty about, because how can he be so selfish and think about his own pain when he brought so much more pain on other people? Jace has an incredibly intricately self-destructive mind and I love how it was portrayed here. Also loved the scene in general with some Izzy&Jace sibling feels, the tender way she talks to him, his kiss to her hand. But the focus (mainly because of Izzy) returning to Clary annoyed me a little.

And by the way, there is one person who can understand Jace. Alec. Because he was possessed by a demon and forced to kill someone, too. Granted, he doesn't have the memories of the action itself, but he saw it on tape. He blames himself because the demon fed off his own hate against Jocelyn. So I would really really love to see those two talking about it. I'm extremely thrilled to watch on and see if they do (but lol kinda hoping they don't because then I can finish writing my ficlet about it, which I sadly didn't manage to before 3B aired).

MY LIFE EXPECTANCY JUST INCREASED BY AT LEAST FIVE YEARS OKAY

Also what a damn badass nightlight, I want one as well even though I hate not to sleep in absolute darkness, that's how pretty this is.

HAHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHA I  C A N ' T

ALEC'S OFFENDED FACE AS IF THIS IS NEWS TO HIM

Wow I'm so glad they didn't forget about Iris. I was scared, not gonna lie.

Tbh I don't find Madzie's reaction that realistic. I mean, Valentine – the first person to talk to her after she got ripped from her normal life in her normal home – told her Clary got Iris into trouble. At some point they must have told her that Iris isn't coming back. But did they really tell her Iris was breeding warlocks? I highly doubt that. At most they told her Iris did some bad things. But, since they probably said the same thing about Valentine (and he was always “nice” to her) and told her Clary wasn't in fact evil, that kind of loses its meaning. And let's not forget, she is a child. A probably traumatized child, I might add, since Valentine used her to literally kill at least ten Shadowhunters that we see on screen, likely more. Her perception of what is right and what is wrong is easily swayed. And personally I think she neither really registered that Iris is supposed to be the bad guy now nor that living with Catarina / Magnus and Alec is sooooo much better than living with Iris ever was, so her having such a strong opposition against going with Iris seems unrealistic to me.

Love this. So good.

This is actually really beautiful

This is actually really dramatic for no reason and I'm soooo here for it.

Soooooo am I the only one wondering why the F Cat didn't put some wards on Magnus's place? I mean????? There is no explanation given for that, and frankly I can't come up with one. If not for Magnus, then Cat would at least put wards there while Madzie stays with him. Or....... do they want to imply Cat doesn't know that he lost his magic?? Hä?! If so, who the hell patched Alec back up from his neat little life-threatening arrow wound? Cuz I had assumed it was Cat. Since, y'know Jace pleaded with Magnus to help Alec, implying (to me at least) that an iratze alone wouldn't cut it this time. Except of course, if he asked because he didn't want to be bothered with taking out his stele and activating Alec's healing rune, but when Magnus refused because no magic he had no other choice.... and let's be real, the first scene of this episode heavily implies that a healing rune can cure just about anything in 0.3 seconds flat.

Alec wanting to bench Magnus makes no sense. Keeping him around and/or at the Institute makes more sense than, oh I don't know, telling him to stay in his loft where there are no wards. Wtf is logic anyway, right?

I liked this scene, don't get me wrong but... what's with the tough love? Alec isn't usually like that?? He's soft and firm reassurance, not aggressive and authoritative reassurance. Did he try that route before and it didn't work?? I need some answers.

“I had no idea.”

“How could you? You weren't there.”

“Me leaving had nothing to do with Simon. I just needed to be alone.

Okay, what, am I supposed to blame Maia now for needing time for and taking care of herself? She's so defensive as if her leaving was objectively wrong, and it wasn't.

“I guess when times get tough, some people need to be alone. And others need to be around other people.

Please, this is a dirty lie. Remind me again, who was it that pushed Alec away after he found out about her yin fen addiction, insisted she could handle it on her own, ran away and finally confiding in some random stranger she had just met? It wasn't Maia. Who stayed up late all night, disregarding her own emotions and rather tearing herself apart trying to fix the drama of her brothers than to mention to anyone she wasn't alright? Wasn't Maia either.

I feel strongly about this because this seems like a really cheap way to break up Saia and set up Sizzy and I don't like cheap things. I don't like Sizzy either, but my main demand is quality, not a certain content. I'll accept Sizzy if it's done correctly. But this isn't it. This is laying blame on a character who's not to blame, and making claims about another character that are plain untrue if you look at the last three seasons.

I've said it before, there would be good ways to break up Saia. For example their attitude to violence differs greatly from one another. Maia is trigger-happy and sees no harm in it, Simon is more or less pacifistic (at least when he's not having his I-don't-care-about-anything-but-my-gig-mood). Creating a conflict out of this would have been in character. Claiming Maia is somehow to blame because she wasn't there is not only unfair, but also invalidating all Maia has done for Simon before, and that was a lot. Putting up with her shitty ex, helping him search for Lilith, fighting her own pack so they don't bully him. She was about to have a face-off with the Seelie Queen – the very same creature that held her hostage not too long ago – just to be by his side. Is that all suddenly not worth anything anymore, just because she had the audacity to take a little time for herself, to sort through her own issues?

Seriously, he let her walk in that? No wonder she collapsed. Jonathan should have gotten her nice hiking boots.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS

CAN WE JUST.... CAN WE...... APPRECIATE.......... HOW HE BATS ALL HER MAGIC ATTACKS AWAY....... LIKE............ MAGNUS................ H O W

Btw if this is supposed to sway me and make me see that benching Magnus would have been the right call, then it's not working, because fine, let's assume Magnus had gone home. Then Iris would have had an even easier job to snatch him away, because a) no wards and b) no sword. And on top of that Alec wouldn't have had a way of knowing that Magnus was even taken, since I doubt Iris would have let Magnus call or text him.

Do you even know that? I'd like to see what you're willing to do after being tortured for ten years. Just saying. But fine. Stay there on your high horse.

Ohmygod I am stunned. I couldn't have written that summation any better and to be honest I had assumed the show would just blackpaint Jonathan as evil villain and be done with it. This is so much more than I expected. I am impressed. (And of course now I hope that there will be a redemption arc for Jonathan, but I'm afraid I'm setting myself up for heartbreak with this one.)

Do they intend to tell me that this whole place is warmed by the fireplace? Why not by a heater? Since the three billion lamps

imply there's electricity somewhere. Or was that line about firewood just Jonathan's way to exit the scene? Who knows.

“Ollie? Doesn't remember a thing. Praetor was good about getting her and Samantha relocated. New identities. They're safe now, like everyone else.”

I'm still high-key bitter about this. I love Ollie a great deal, okay, so this is a pretty disappointing solution to outsource her from the plot. Just let her forget all the shit so she doesn't have to deal with trauma. Guess she thinks now her mother died in an explosion caused by a gas leakage or something. I wonder what the mundane police has to say about that and how long it'll take them to find her, since, y'know, they have evidence against her and all that.

Edit: This doesn't actually make sense if you think about it. Did Ollie just get dropped into a witness protection program for no reason she can remember? Or does that “new identities” actually mean they have completely new identities because they don't remember ANYTHING from their old life?? I need answers.

I get it. This is supposed to make me see how rundown and wasted Luke is. But is he purposefully trying to make himself look like a confused hobo? I mean couldn't he like, prepare the notes he wanted to show Jace? It's like he's trying to reinforce to Jace he shouldn't listen to a thing Luke says because these are clearly the actions of a desperate man. Presentation is half the battle man, man.

Hah, badass. There's a reason I love him.

I totally dig Magnus in his kiddie clothes, but I also need a lot of answers because there's blood on his hands and bodies at his feet and this doesn't look like magic gone haywire, this looks like a massacre and I need answers. I wonder if they're gonna explain this flash or just let it sit there uncommented. (I hope they address it and I hope it has something to do with Asmodeus and their time together.)

Ugh do I honestly have to reiterate that parking Magnus in his ward-less loft wouldn't have helped? Also, he's a grown-ass man and can make decisions for himself, dammit.

Owning up to his mistakes unrestrainedly. There's a reason I have a soft spot for Raphael.

New York, huh? What a coincidence. Wouldn't want him to live somewhere else and have Maia burn through the other half of her paycheck to pay some warlock to portal them again, right?

Also, not to be controversial, but why don't they ask the Praetor first? Since they had a whole ass book on the mark of cain and everything. And figured out what it is. And getting rid of something so dangerous is basically their job. I mean. Just saying.

You know I always marvel at this. Just because he's old he knows shit? Is there really an age where knowledge pops into your head just because? Because I'm still waiting for that to happen to me, let me tell you. Just like being immortal somehow grants you immediate access to celebrities and the questionable honor to be in the midst of all historical events of the slightest relevance? Srsly if I was immortal I'd still be glued to my lappy and hate going out.

LOL give Iris a front row seat on how you smashed her XD XD XD

IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE

<3 <3 <3

This exchange thing is a ploy, and to be honest, a painfully obvious one. I find it really kinda hard to believe Iris falls for it. What I've been asking myself since this plot line started is, why didn't Iris have that idea herself? Like, I honestly expected her to use Magnus as a hostage and tell Alec he either hand over Madzie or she'll kill Magnus. Makes way more sense than her just trying to find Madzie herself and then what, try to break her out again? That didn't work last time, and since the warlocks are warned by Magnus's abduction it'd be even unlikelier to work now. I get it plot-wise since it'd be a little awkward if Iris out-blackmailed the Shadowhunters, but like. Seriously. What's the in-universe-explanation for this???

I don't know why, but Magnus looks super cute in this shot.

Five bucks say this is Izzy with a shapeshifting rune, and ISTG if this is actually Madzie then I can just shake my head at them.

Okay, I totally dig Lightwood siblings working together but. Why do you have to simultaneously hurt me with plot holes.

1) Where did they get Seelie Magic? Did they employ Meliorn? Srlsy. Also, the Seelie Magic at the beginning of the episode could move so why was Illusion!Madzie standing there like a display dummy? That was super suspicious.

2) Why didn't they use a shapeshifting rune? The illusion would have held longer, Izzy could have gotten closer and tied Iris up more easily, without Magnus getting smashed first. But, drama I guess.

3) Where the f is Catarina? Please. Her ward almost gets kidnapped and all she does is go “Oh shit, gotta relocate her to some other High Warlock lol.” Her best friend gets kidnapped and all she does is go “Oh shit, but whatever, here have a fake ransom note but don't think I'll move my ass from this super important Bitching and Drinking Conference. I payed like 200 bucks to get in.” Wtf. This is shitty ooc behavior from her. Wtf. She's either suuuuuper confident that Alec and Izzy will get Magnus back no problem, or she doesn't give a shit about him, and sorry, I don't believe either of those two options.

HAHAHA I'M SCREAMING LOOOOOL!!! Is this code for “We wanted to kill her but Lilith was quicker so we'll pretend we weren't even interested in killing her in the first place”? The Clave, man. Always good for a laugh.

No, dummy, this is their R&D Department.

I'm not even kidding, remember 2x04:

Oh the good old times.

This was. Really good. Really. I'm like, reeling. I feel like show writers read too many fanfics and therefore the Malec scenes this ep were exquisite. Magnus evasively running around and not liking his “powerlessness.” Alec there to reassure him with the sweetest of words. Their kiss, not to short, but hard and determined, with feeling. Top tier shit.

Wow, even though the words that left their mouths were reassuring and good it still feels like their relationship is suddenly dying. I wonder why that is? Oh, right. Because Sizzy, that's why.

I love.

Ooooh guess the residual electricity finally ran out. And I guess Clary turned all the candles off to match the mood? Also, since it was dark outside before and now isn't anymore.... was Jonathan out collecting firewood the entire night? That's dedication, man.

.......what a coincidence that their healing rune is in the exact same spot. On that note, I've been wondering.... if the ressurection resetted his skin to a state it hasn't been in for ten years, effectively un-charring it, shouldn't his runes have disappeared as well? Did he spend the “days” Clary was sleeping with putting runes all over himself?? On that note, why the hell did Clary have to sleep for days when Jonathan was the one who came back from the dead? All that Clary did was running at Simon in slow motion. I mean, I know what I would find more taxing.

I soooo appreciate the blood on her teeth. Such care for detail <3

Okay, so I realize that this makes Jonathan look like a fanatic, but I actually understand this scene like this: He's not an idiot. He knew Clary wasn't really going to give him a chance. But this, this is his chance, because now she has no choice but to stick with him and see for herself.

Btw if you're wondering why I'm so pro Jonathan, you can read the beginning of this post where I got out all of my Jonathan Feels. Basically, until I actually see him act intrinsically evil I refuse to believe all hope is lost for him. He did terrible things, yes, and he's aware of that, but the way I see it he did them because he wasn't ever presented with an alternate choice. And now that he has one, he's holding onto it tooth and nail. He wants to leave all the pointless violence behind.

I'm aware he's a sadistic psycho in the books, but this wouldn't be the first time the show gave a character a make-over (for the better) and so far the only compelling piece of evidence on the show in favor of Jonathan's demon blood causing him to be unsavably evil was Jocelyn's vision of him killing a flower as a baby, and it's not even clear if that was intentional. So excuse me if that's not enough for me to write him off.

Gif Sources: Malec cheek kiss, Magnus being cutesy with his croc impression, Magnus brandishing his sword *facepalm* you know what I mean, Magnus batting Iris's magic away

[bornpariah-a]

so the fact that you deal with the undead in two different locations in inquisition, but the fact that dorian is a NECROMANCER somehow doesn’t effect things whatsoever is utterly ridiculous. not even a token voice line beyond making a comment about the veil in the fallow mire? it’s like they decided to make him a necromancer and then forgot about it !! also, you can learn necromancy and he doesn’t say a thing?? utterly preposterous. and this is precisely where i come in.

for a quick overview of dorian’s relationship with Death and death spirits, you should probably read this headcanon, which goes more in depth on that. i had a headcanon somewhere about the extent of dorian’s necromancer abilities, but it’s outdated and i don’t think i agree with my past self anymore. that may be meta for another time, but for the time being know this :

dorian can, obviously, do everything that the necromancer tree entails in the game. his talents lie in being able to bind death spirits and utilize them to their fullest extents, whether to put the fear of death into his enemies or to curse them. beyond that, he can sense when people die ( as well as when they are about to die, but it’s very shortly before death that he gets a sort of premonition of their death ), and yes, DORIAN CAN RAISE THE DEAD. he does this by utilizing death spirits to possess their bodies, and because he’s a very skilled mage he can do it on his own and to multiple corpses, but it takes quite a bit of energy. therefore, he doesn’t do it very often, especially because there’s more practical uses of his energy in battle.

the rest is under a cut because this got... lengthy lmao

the two places in inquisition where you encounter the undead as the foremost enemies are the fallow mire and the exalted plains. taking dorian to either of this locations with you is both a good idea and a bad one. mostly a good one.

if you take dorian with you, he will comment on the fact that death spirits are NUMEROUS in the area, and that he can sense where the undead are lurking beneath the surface of the water / within the forts where they are numerous. he will also comment on the fact that it’s strange that corpses apparently just started to get up and walk around, thanks to demons running amok. if you were to ask him if he can use his necromancy abilities to help you guys in battle against them, he would say yes, of course he can, but he won’t be anything battle ending, so to speak, because there are so many corpses and so many death spirits / spirits in general lurking about.

how does he help, you may ask? he utilizes the ample number of death spirits pressing against the veil to override the demonic possession —— effectively raising the dead. re-raising the dead. this is why doing this EXHAUSTS HIM considerably.

COMMENTS IN THE FALLOW MIRE :

d : charming place. there are dozens, if not hundreds, of corpses beneath the water —— watch your step.

d : the veil’s thin here, demons seeping into every corpse and tree they can. d : most likely, they were spirits of death trying to get closer to the source, and when they crossed the veil : demon.

i : they’re —— corpses, right? dorian, can you help us? d : it will tire me out, but yes, i should be able to manage something.

i : dorian, are you alright? d : hm? yes, quite. i : you seem distracted. d : death spirits are quite chatty, if you give them an opening. they’ve been trying to tell me something, but i can’t work out what it is. sera : that’s not normal !!

( dorian falls to his knees after a particularly lengthy battle against the undead ) i : dorian !! d : no, i’m alright. just a bit out of breath.

d : we should burn the bodies. they’ll be possessed again, otherwise.

( at a campsite ) d : shall we make camp? now?

COMMENTS IN THE EXALTED PLAINS:

d : more demons possessing bodies? strange. where have they come from?

i : dorian, will you be able to —— d : come to the rescue again? don’t start to underestimate me now, inquisitor.

d : just a moment, i think i’ve caught the trace of where it all began.

d : quiet. ( someone ) : what —— d : they’re trying to tell me something. ( someone ) : what?  i : death spirits are trying to tell him something. ( someone ) : creepy.

and so on and so forth. bringing dorian along to any location with the undead makes battle easier, and makes it so that less undead run at you IN GENERAL. so, it’s a very good thing to take dorian with you to these locations. on the flip side, dorian gets easily exhausted ( evidenced in-game by his mana depleting faster than usual, in my writing as him needing to rest frequently and having a horrible headache ) and irritable ( because of the exhaustion and because death spirits are trying to speak to him more than usual ) as well as easily distracted by trying to find the source —— he gets more distracted in the exalted plains, however, because there’s not a straightforward explanation like the veil being thin. he also gets distracted by trying to piece together what the spirits are trying to tell him.

essentially what they’re trying to tell him is why the undead keep rising, over and over again. ( they’re also trying to get his attention, but anyways ) the answer is straightforward enough in the fallow mire, where there isn’t much to do about the veil thinning, but in the exalted plains there is a strange enchantment that has been placed by a rogue mage somewhere within the hills, warping the veil subtly. it’s a new quest to track down the source of the enchantment and to nullify it, so that spirits stop slipping through the veil and end up turning into demons, possessing corpses.

( so, pretty much, it's a good thing for everyone else to bring dorian along, not the best thing for dorian, but that’s alright. )

outside of these locations, dorian’s necromancy specialty has impacts other places, as well. he does comment if you choose necromancy as a specialty ( what he says depends on the inquisitor, but anyways ) and he also offers to teach you. dorian is a very good teacher, as he taught in the minrathous circle throughout his early 20s, and he especially offers to teach you if you are FRIENDS.

furthermore, people will talk about the fact that he’s a necromancer as ambient conversation, and they’re predictably scandalized by the mere thought of him raising the dead and interacting with the dead and whatnot. you can also, if you wish, ask him about necromancy and he will have a conversation with you regarding it, whether or not you’re a mage.

in summary : bioware’s a fucking coward and dorian’s a powerful necromancer.

[starwarshyperdrive]

My opinions after reading fan theories about ‘The Rise of Skywalker’

Let me start off once again by saying that I think Star Wars cannot be compared to Comic Book movies and predictions and speculations based on ‘it’s like in [insert random MCU movie]’ are therefor destined to fail. I wouldn’t normally post my prediction but I’ve seen sooo many wild speculations and unlikely predictions that I thought I should post it somewhere for the sake of ‘told you so’ later this year.

Apart from the Comic adaptations and to some extent the animated series Star Wars always stuck to a certain style of storytelling rooted in classical mythology. Joseph Campbell and all that ..blabla.. So even if books or episodes of Rebels ventured outside of this story structure, the movies always followed a certain style. 

The Last Jedi got a lot of hate, some justified, some completely out of place, but mostly for the wrong reasons. I have repeatedly spoken up about how I think that in some instances the dialogue doesn’t fit and shows too much of the writers handwriting. Same goes for the humor, much loathed by a lot of fans. Humor has always been a part of Star Wars and nothing will ever top the humor used in the prequels (battle droid humor is the worst), but the handwriting clearly shows and feels out of character. In a story like Star Wars the rules are pretty much set and you have to follow the flow of the characters and not the writers. And while we’re at it.. Maybe I got Aspergers or something but it bothers me a tiny bit that The Last Jedi doesn’t adhere to the established form of Star Wars titles. First part of the trilogy is 3 words (The Phantom Menace, A New Hope, The Force Awakens) , Third is 4 words that was pretty similar which is why I LOVE the EP9 title (Return of the Jedi, Revenge of the Sith, The Rise of Skywalker) and Second was supposed to be the same (The Empire Strikes Back, Attack of the Clones,..). So The Last Jedi feels even more like one writer/director doing his own thing. Don’t get me wrong. I love the movie, but so much could’ve been done more elegantly. The title feels more like the end or beginning of a trilogy. Back to the titles; now if we look at the abbreviations there is a beautiful rhyme to it: TPM-ANH-TFA, ROTS-ROTJ-TROS.. and AOTC-TESB- and .. TLJ which sounds much more like the set up of a trilogy. OK, I can see how someone might think ‘Is he seriously obsessing about that?’ Yes I am, and it’s one of the reasons I’m very happy with TROS restoring order in the galaxy far, far away..

POTENTIAL SPOILERS?

A lot of people seem to think Skywalker is the new title for Jedi and I’m just loosely quoting Collider here, which I usually wouldn’t do as their speculations have been a bit too wild for me in the past and their track record is not as high as they think themselves (no hard feelings though, they are doing a great job): ‘that makes no sense from a branding perspective, why would you change an established part of popular culture. everyone knows what a Jedi is’. I couldn’t agree more. I think we have to look more towards mythology once again. As much as they tried to retcon the name in recent books Skywalker is Shmiis last name. Take Buddhists or Christians for example. They are not followers of the religion of John Buddha or Joe Christ. Both were titles given to the respective prophets or gurus or whatever term for regions leader you prefer. So using that logic the term Jedi - from Jedi master or Jedi knight - makes a lot of sense. You could of course create some lengthy explanation and fashion something in the vain of ‘Lutheranism’ based on the name of the person who reformed the existing religion, but this has not happened in the movies. Not even in canon, so I think it’s highly unlikely. You always have to think of the general public and casual fans. JJ Abrams stated it himself. It has to appeal to everyone and work as a standalone movie. If too much exposition is needed, it’s not gonna work. And that’s not something you can put in an opening scroll. So...nope. 

Can Rey still be a Skywalker? Why not? After the BS Obi Wan told Luke we never can take anything at face value. I mean by now it’s kinda clear that there weren’t anything planned out properly but there are hints here and there that could or could not be used. Everyone was much too interested in ‘the girl’ all the time? why would Leia hug her, a complete stranger? why is Luke so curious who she is and then there is the ship in the trailer that seems to be the same that dropped her off on Jakku. The dark side cave showed her what she needed to see. Vader didn’t have Lukes face either. Symbolism, people! I really don’t wanna come up with my own fan theories now, but there are so many ways this could pan out and would work.

Can Kylo Ren be the Skywalker and have his redemption moment? I always said Kylo can not be redeemed and I’m still maintaining this position, but I’m willing to admit, there is ONE WAY this could work and I have read some rumors recently that seem to go in that direction. There is no way there is a happy ending of him and we see him frolicking around with a blue lightsaber and brown robes, but he could follow his grandfather and have a last minute sacrifice-himself-for-the-good moment, followed by his immediate demise. George Lucas is known for saying ‘it’s like poetry, it rhymes’, so there is that. as for him being the Skywalker, he has been introduced as Ben Solo. I don’t know a lot of people who take their uncles name after their parents get a divorce, so that makes no sense to me.

Reylo - I will not even dignify this with a response. She shut the door, what else do you need.

Who is rising? Luke Skywalker is obviously still in the picture and we’ve seen Anakin in his force ghost form. They were supposed to bring balance to the force. I don’t expect that we see the literal rise of Skywalker. ‘We’ve passed on all we know’.. My guess is, that it’s ‘just a title that sounds cool’ and refers to them becoming one with the force once the balance is finally restored.

UPDATE: The newly revealed German translation which can be retranslated as ‘the ascension of Skywalker’ backs my claim.

How is the emperor still alive? That’s easy. He isn’t. We see the ruins of the Death Star and Luke says ‘no one’s ever really gone’. There is all this Darth Plagueis talk about keeping someone from dying and the emperor was powerful. I think Ian McDiarmid was saying the truth when he quoted George Lucas saying ‘he is dead’. At the same time I think his spirit or essence is alive and was maybe even influencing Snoke. I don’t expect to see him in flesh, but he’ll probably be haunting them and might still have be pulling strings from the beyond. Some say ‘why would he wait so long’, but I don’t think time is relevant when you’re dead. Or he waited for a good vessel, or someone who is receptive for his low level radar signal of dark side force and Kylo was a good receptor.

What’s up with the TIE-fighter? I think it’s cut to deceive. Yes we see Kylos gloves. But is it from the same scene? A lot of fans argue that it’s a training sequence. We see Poe and Finn at the same location and as we all know both know how to fly a TIE-fighter, so it could be a stolen one - after all it’s to be expected the Resistance is short on equipment - so I’m taking a bet that it’s Poe or Finn and it’s just the magic of editing making it look as if it’s Kylo flying. We’ve seen similar in the The Last Jedi trailer. So, training sequence or something. Yeah, I can see that. Might as well be part of the fight, but why is he not shooting.

Can't wait for another trailer and more theories. Just remember: The higher the expectations the more likely the disappointment. Not everything will be explained, solved, make sense. Take it for what it is.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Wonky preliminary thoughts

I watched the episode once this morning then I’ve been various degrees of busy and sickly so the episode is sort of nebulous in my mind but I want to throw down the thoughts I remember thinking this morning... on a second watch I could change my mind. Honestly I don’t even know yet what this post is going to be like. I’m gonna make it up as I go. Let’s find out together.

- It’s a finale baby

Okay I haven’t touched my dash but I know my chickens and I know there’s gonna be wank, because people forget that every year when the finale comes out no one likes it. That’s it, that’s the finale, expectations are high because finales are supposed to be epic so people end up disappointed, some things were predicted 8 weeks prior and people complain that they were too obvious, some things were unexpected and people complain they came out of the blue, some people say Cas wasn’t in it enough some people write down explanations why his part was actually meaningful, you know the drill. This has been a typical finale: Dean makes The Sacrificial Decision (having Death kill him, become the soul bomb...) and things don’t just work the way he expected them to (sometimes positively like with Amara, sometimes negatively like with Michael).

I personally expected Dean to let Michael (although until recently I supposed it could be the original version of him) in since 13x15 (the showrunner’s own meta manifesto relatively to the ‘reverse season 5/reverse Swan Song’ nature of the final part of the season) and that it would be about shouldering himself the task of getting Lucifer killed since 13x20 (where he goes after Loki himself and is not enthusiastic about Sam’s revenge intents against Lucifer), and heck the ‘I let you in but you provide the power but I’m behind the wheel’ kind of speech was something I pictured in a thousand scenarios, so I didn’t get any shocks from that part of the episode’s plot, but I still enjoyed how we got there. And then, Lucifer is dead! *celebration noise coming from the fandom*

- Um okay let’s say you did your best

Okay, the impression I got from my first watch: the script worked, but the episode got wonky in its execution. Not even the special effects (insert a wonky gold star for the trying) but I remember being unimpressed by the sound/music? Is it just me? Like, sometimes the sound choices were too over the top? There were also overdramatic zooms but that’s Supernatural, and Supernatural without overdramatic zooms is like Supernatural without the Winchesters.

I liked the recap montage a lot (what do you think came first, Rowena’s line about the music or the idea of having that line inside the season to use it for the finale recap?). I got a bit sad because there was a lot of Wayward Sisters in it, and it would have been better if the finale came in a moment of celebration for it happening rather than anger and bitterness for the CW’s choices. Something I felt missing from the last portion of the season was Jody, but I was obviously okay with it because she was missing in preparation of her role in the spin-off. If we can’t change the network’s decision, I hope next season is packed with those characters.

Anyway, back to the episode - it was weird at times, you all know what times, let’s just run with it and make jokes.

- But in season 5 they said--

No, the act itself of Michael killing Lucifer wasn’t what was going to kill half the planet’s population. It was that act inside the large picture of that spell-like orchestration that was the apocalypse (seals, horsemen, omens, stuff like that). I would argue the large-scale damage that was expected wasn’t an accidental consequence, but kind of the whole point of the apocalypse. I hate myself for bringing it up, but you know Thanos killing half the people to ~save the universe~ or whatever dangerously ambiguous nazi crap that dumbasses have actually fallen for because Marvel is just that bad and dangerously ambiguously conservative? I think that the archangels kind of were similar to that mindset, making a huge sacrifice of humans to bring ~paradise~ because they were tired or whatever. You know, I know some people don’t think Supernatural is particularly progressive, but in the current media climate not framing the mass-murderous, abusive characters with nazi-coded intents as the actual heroes is apparently too progressive for some, so kudos to Supernatural for not making Lucifer or Michael the hero of the story but to stick to common sense and decency. (I know, this part is not about Supernatural but just me being salty at Marvel, but let me, please.)

- So while we’re talking about this...

I can say that what Supernatural did with Lucifer in season 13, in my opinion, has been really good. I’ve never been afraid they were going to ‘redeem’ him, so I wasn’t worried or bothered by the story throwing the tools of redemption at him. Because not only he didn’t pick them up, he couldn’t see them even if they hit him in the face. He didn’t understand what redemption even means. He kept seeing himself as the misunderstood victim, so instead of bettering himself he just felt sorry for himself, and completely missed the point of a ‘second chance’ or whatever he claimed he was after. So, eventually, it was all a lie. I think Lucifer’s “I’ve changed” attitude was partly a schemed lie (because he’s not that clueless), partly something he was convinced of himself, because he has his head up his ass enough to actually believe he was a poor victim. I think this narrative hits the nail on the head - white male fragility works like that, the men wrapped in toxic masculinity and male entitlement think they’re the victims of a big bad oppression from women and queer people and non-white people. But they’re just pathetic, and when the bubble bursts, all they can do is scream in rage and their ‘nice guy’ persona disappears. Lucifer’s 180° change of attitude towards Jack reminded me of the nice guys who start throwing all sorts of disgusting invectives against women after being rejected. So yeah, I think that Lucifer’s arc this season was sort of relevant, if you want to interpret it like this.

Either way, Supernatural, unlike some other pieces of media, doesn’t actually try to make you sympathize with abusive, violent, misogynistic men (unless they actually show to be self-aware and to seek change, and again you aren’t meant to sympathize with their bad side! Toxic masculinity is supposed to be bad, and slaughtering billions of innocents not justified for any reason, and especially does not make you the hero and the ones fighting to save the people the actual villains! *gasp*). There was even a clear dig at Trump, and I am pretty sure that’s Dabb’s answer to accusations of not being clear enough on the subject...

So yeah, I think this season’s big bad was an allegory for white male entitlement and the ‘nice guy’ victim complex, and Dean stabbed him (I’d say with the help of a Black man, sure it’s actually Michael another villain but momentary symbolism, I guess? Or maybe that just isn’t supposed to be relevant.) I felt someone cheer that was still bitter that Sam killed Alastair. You just know someone out there was still bitter about it. I mean it was teamwork, of course, but Dean provided the power and the stab. Oh, Dean letting Michael in to acquire the power to kill Lucifer (who killed Cas and Sam) as a parallel for Sam’s demon blood usage to acquire the power to kill Lilith (who killed Dean) *insert lengthy reflection here*

- Speaking of parallels--

Someone was irked at the apparent belief across fandom that Dean leaving Sam to the vampires in the cave was ~the codepencency being broken~? (I am not a fan of analyzing the show in these terms that have become so simplified, in case you’re wondering.) And of course now we see that that wasn’t so simple, because Dean makes the same face when Sam disappears with Lucifer and Jack, and Cas tries to stop him, but Dean decides to do the sacrificial decision (did he really expect Michael to keep the deal, really really?). But! (I wasn’t saying that things are still stuck in the 10x23 mud puddle, don’t misunderstand me!) This time it’s not just about Sam, it’s about Lucifer being set on really breaking dad’s toys on a large scale this time. Dean Winchester gives up his humanity to save humanity, because that’s his middle name, and not just to save his brother at the cost of harming the universe. Of course Michael is still on the loose and with a stronger vessel now, but hey, one threat at a time... But I also think there’s something significant with the fact that the last sequence of the episode shows Michael on earth, looking in his element and satisfied about it - to stop Lucifer, Sam, with Lucifer inside, went to hell; to stop Lucifer, Dean, with Michael inside... is on earth. Of course, next season he’ll probably be involved with heaven and whatnot, but I think there’s something significant there, but I’d wait to make much meta about Michael-in-Dean when we actually are shown more about it.

- So, overall?

Overall it was a good finale! Satisfying to have Jack discover Lucifer’s true nature and the nice guy lie shatter, emotional the Jack stuff, powerful that we didn’t see Dean actually getting possessed and Cas seeing it but only Cas being fraught about it, just there, kind of like the narrative was telling us, what do you even expect Cas’ face while losing Dean to Michael to look like? Now, this post is long enough and I’ll need a rewatch and some health points more to analyze the details, but I am sure that I’m going to enjoy analyzing them.

- And what now?

Oh, I expect a lot of fanworks of Charlie and Rowena during the hiatus. It’s probably already started...

Alright, more coherent and hopefully meaningful thoughts coming shortly (...maybe) to your screens ^-^

[mondofunnybooks]

'THANOS'S GRANDAUGHTER: GO SUCK EGGS GRANDPA!' DEPT.

'The title means exactly what the words say: NAKED Lunch - a frozen moment where everyone sees exactly what is on the end of every fork.'

-William Burroughs, from the foreword notes for the novel 'Naked Lunch'.

THE GATEKEEPERS!

As may not possibly surprise you lot, we've run afoul of some of the more humourless elements of fandom in our time. This is probably down to the fact that we don't take superhero comics very seriously but are utterly enamoured of some of the more sillier elements of history. True story. We were once told off by a man in Green Lantern fangroup (We were bored.) because we thought that the origin of Kyle Rayner is so nakedly Freudian and 'Will this do?' to be hilarious.

To recap:

On a planet called Oa exists a race of short, bald humanoids with large heads called The Guardians. The Guardians believe in enforcing Order in the universe and go about this by way of selecting the most suitable candidate (called a Green Lantern.) of each sector of the universe to be given a power ring that does whatever the wearer can imagine. This ring had no effect on anything yellow due to a necessary flaw in the design to stop the wearer from having absolute power. Also, it has to be recharged every 24 hours.

Our sector of the universe is 2814, and of the 7200 Lanterns patrolling the universe at any given time, ours was a chap called Hal Jordan. Very strong-willed, very daring. Hal got the ring off an alien called Abin Sur who was on his way to give either him or a ginger bloke with a Moe haircut called Guy. Hal happened to be closer than Guy, so got the ring.

Hal Jordan went onto be a successful Green Lantern for several years but things went terribly wrong when a big yellow space tyrant called Mongul, teaming with a cyborg pretending to be Superman destroyed Hal's home of Coast City, murdering tens of thousands of people and left Hal shattered, feeling he'd failed in his duty as Earth's protector.

The loss of everything Hal cared about sent him insane, and he attempted to resurrect his destroyed home using the power ring, but he could only achieve a replica of what he'd lost and the ring wasn't designed to create that much matter for a presumably infinite period of time. His perceived second failure cemented his full breakdown, and he went on a murderous rampage in order to gather as many Green Lantern rings as possible on the way to returning to Oa is seize the original Green Lantern ring. Things go quite wrong as Hal murders the entire Lantern Corp and all but one of the Guardians: Ganthet.

Ganthet, a wee blue fella cosplaying as Orko off the He-Man cartoons pegs it back to Earth. Once there, he floats to L.A., sees a drunk bloke taking a piss against a wall and gives him the final power ring before sodding off, exclaiming 'The Ring will sort you, mate. No worries.'

A BLUE SPACE MIDGET IN A RED DRESS GIVES A DRUNK LAD ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL WEAPONS IN THE UNIVERSE AND THEN FUCKS OFF IS THE ORIGIN OF KYLE RAYNER, GREEN LANTERN OF EARTH.*

This would be weird as a 1960's comic but at least the DC Editors of the '60s had no idea any of this stuff would be reprinted and pored (Hi, Donald.) over by future generations. Supergirl is having a relationship with a fella who turns into her horse but she doesn't know about it? Fine. There's a space creature from the fifth dimension who has a real thing for winding up Superman every ninety days and can only be stopped by tricking him into saying his name backwards? Gotcha. Batman owns a dog who fights crime but wears a mask on patrol so no one will link Ace The Bat-Hound with Bruce Wayne. Of COURSE. Beppo The Super-Monkey? PRINT IT! Who will care in five years? Who will even remember, right?

Green Lantern 50 (2nd series, 1994) was published post Watchmen, post Dark Knight Returns, post Brat Pack and all of the other silly 'Corporate Superheroes Can Be For Adults' malarkey. We were now aware of subtext, metaphor, aspirational text and either this is a daft attempt at being a mature comic (which given it features a nervous breakdown, genocide, the total psychological breakdown of one of the icons of the DCU and the first example of 'Fridging' quite soon after, it ought to be.) or it's a very bad attempt at pitching a superhero comic at the kids.

The real answer was of course that DC were trying to get attention back they'd lost to the Marvel Superstar period and subsequent formation of Image. Superman grew a mullet, Batman needed a wheelchair and was replaced with a religious nutter wearing Vatican levels of gold, Wonder Woman was replaced with a giant legged redhead, The Flash broke his leg. It was all kicking off.

But we always found the whole Kyle thing hilarious, and when making our usual jokes about it ('Good thing Ganthet didn't run into Richard Pryor!', etc.) we were scolded. It turns out the story had been rewritten a bit as part of something called Green Lantern: Rebirth so it made a bit more sense. Lord knows some of our best friends are comic fans, but when they start quoting the continuity of a DC comic with capitals like they WERE reciting THE Bible and Geoff Johns DID make it GOOD, we get a bit scared.

All that was a recap of 5 comics. (Green Lantern 47-50 and Superman 80) and was almost impossible to recap straight. When we tried to give a factual, chronological accounting of these comics, we weren't capable of throwing in a few puns. And circa 1989-1993, nor were the staff of Marvel Year In Review.

When people try to contemplate the early 90's and Marvel, they think of Spider-Man 1, X-Force 1, X-Men 1. If you narrow the field down to Marvel Magazines, probably the movie adaptations, poster specials and most likely the BEAUTIFUL Marvel Illustrated Swimsuit Editions. Few will remember the spectacular Marvel Year In Review annuals. That's a shame, because with one notable exception* it was the last time they displayed an ability to take the mick out of themselves beside the better issues of John Byrne's run on She-Hulk or the comedy title 'What The--?!' (also canceled, sadly in 1993.).

Marvel Year In Review, in theory, was probably originally designed to be exactly that: A chronological overview of every comic published by Marvel over the previous 12 months. That sounds simple enough but can you imagine being the poor saps who not only have to read all those comics but attempt to sum them up as a factual synopsis. The work and time we just put into four issues of Green Lantern was murder and at least interesting things happened in those books. 'Hey, Dwight here's all of Acts Of Vengeance to work out, and see if you can explain what a Captain Universe is and why Spidey might become possessed by his powers, there's a pie in it for you. Barry, you got Atlantis Attacks.' Interns were probably diving out of the window at the sight of editor Bobbie Chase approaching them with a stack of Alpha Flight.

So rather than put out another dry, just the facts ma'am comic to sit along Marvel Age, The Offical Handbook Of The Marvel Universe or Marvel Preview, they changed gears. Marvel opted for a magazine format with covers emulating the likes of Time and later National Lampoon and sadly unnoticed New York-centric mag Spy. The early issues provided something of a review of the year but in journalistic form for some of the bigger events juxtaposed with pieces on 'Best and Worst Dressed' and ads for products like Damage Control, who would sort out your house if it'd been trashed in a fight between The Hulk and The Wrecker, a tourist ad for Latveria, posters for the new Simon Williams film or a flyer for the next Dazzler disco compilation. Long before Alex Ross painted every last rock on Ben Grimm's back, Marvel TYIR gave you an insight into what it would be like to be a resident of the Marvel Universe reading a 616 style issue of National Lampoon.

MYIR also ran interviews with various superheroes, (Including Rick Jones recounting the time he met Elvis, by far the best thing to come out of Infinity Gauntlet/War/Crusade.) a review of Nightcat's debut album, an appetite suppressant for Galactus, the 'Who Died This Year, Who Came Back From The Dead and Who Managed To Stay Dead' update, an expose of Genosha's tourist, a create your own 90's superhero name and origin generator (which turned out to be surprisingly accurate.) an account of two disenfranchised rival employees's visit to the Marvel Offices and ooh, loads more.

This is speculation on our part, but the knife gets a lot sharper around the 1992-1993 editions. The full chronology is written with a weary black humour of someone's who just seen too much and is getting bitter. The full-on assault on the 1993 annuals, certain top-tier artists 'showing their influences too clearly' and inadvertently predicting the future of more brutal and uncaring superhero comics in the article 'Bring On The Bad Guys' from MYIR 1993.

There's a huge shift in attitude and editorial policy in the next 12 months. Several publishers have gone bust, Tom Defalco is gone as Editor In Chief and replaced with 5 people in charge of various parts of the publishing line, turning Marvel into a series of little fiefdoms with varying degrees of co-operation between each other. We've just met Peter Parker's robot parents. Aunt May is about to die. Reed Richards is dead. Jim Wilson is dead. Legion resolves to kill Magneto. Dr Strange has an idea for something called 'The Secret Defenders'. Everything is about to get very serious and therefore far more ripe for parody.

And with no word, no goodbye from the editors, nothing in the fan press nor explanation, Marvel Year In Review 1994 was solicited thusly:

'Marvel Year In Review 1994 - Just the facts, ma'am. Gone is the tongue-in-cheek humor of the past; the Marvel Year in Review offers a factual recap of the major Marvel Universe events of 1994. It's short on lengthy text and long on splashy art and fact-filled sidebars. Included are all the happenings from the pages of X-Men, Spider-Man, Fantastic Four and Ghost Rider, plus art by Andy Kubert, Chris Bachalo, Tom Lyle and many others! $2:95. $4.00 CAN'

And it was. Normal comic size. No chatty opener from the editor with puns and gags. No angry letters from readers just wanting to know what happened in X-Force and wanting to be rid of the MODAM jokes. No ads. Not even, truth be told, much in the way of recaps so much as trade dress-less cover repros with dialogue quotes and a paragraph or two to cover the essential plot elements, finished with the most perfunctory 'Er, will this do?' appeal to the readers on the last page. Turns out that no, it wouldn't do at all, as there was no Marvel Year In Review 1995 or any other edition either.

Marvel has put out a few self-parody books since, such as Marvel RIOT!, House Of Hem, Marvel WHAT Now?, Who Won't Wear The Shield, Wha HUH? and obviously Deadpool crosses the lines frequently, but there's not been something that clever nor ambitious since. Perhaps the line between reader, writer and editor aren't as clear as they used to be or simply today's audience wouldn't be as immediately familiar with the formats being parodied and as the recent attempts to parody Marvel fanfiction have shown, sometimes an idea just belongs to its time. As a magazine that featured fun work by the likes of Todd McFarlane, Dan Slott, Sam Kieth, Peter David,  Kevin Maguire and a different angle on a world that takes itself a little bit seriously at times, Marvel Year In Review was a fun little ride while it lasted.

(Note to self. Never, ever look up Marvel fanfiction again. Ever.)

*This may be different now but was certainly the case in 1994. Origins, histories and such might have changed due to 52, Convergence and Rebirth. We were told that Flashpoint was the end of the DC Universe as we knew it, and we took that as a good place to stop reading. Except Section Eight and Batman/Elmer Fudd obviously.

Dedicated to the memory of Steve Ditko.(1927-2018)

[misssophiachase]

Stay

Happy 25 Days of Klaroline! Day 2 + Endgame

Feeling somewhat despondent about his teenage daughter growing into a woman, Klaus decides to throw her a Cotillion Ball in New Orleans, secretly hoping that Caroline will attend and continue their dancing tradition. 

I don’t watch the Originals (until season 5 starts of course) so the whole Hollow storyline doesn’t factor into my endgame drabble.

Southern Oaks Plantation, New Orleans LA – 1400 hours

All along it was a fever….

“Last time I checked, flowers went in vases. And here I thought this was a supposedly a professional establishment,” Klaus scoffed, gesturing to the pink peonies strewn across the table impatiently. 

Before the flustered event coordinator could manage a response, Klaus was already making his way purposefully across the other side of the grand ballroom. This night had to be absolutely perfect and Klaus had every intention of making it that way, even if he had to berate every last person in the process.  

“When you sent me this invitation, I thought it was an early Halloween trick,” Rebekah said, her eyes roaming around the expansive venue while the staff worked hurriedly to prepare for tonight’s event under the critical eye of the debutant’s father. “Or that Kol had hacked your mailing lists.”

“Give me a little credit,” Klaus uttered, snatching it from her grasp unexpectedly and pointing at the invitation. “Would Kol have chosen such immaculate stationary or cursive font?”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m speaking with Caroline Forbes about a decade dance during my misguided attempt at high school?”

Klaus faltered, not expecting his sister to mention the woman he loved so deeply who regularly haunted his dreams. The same woman he’d imagined when Klaus had planned this very event, not that he’d admit that to Rebekah of all people.

“This is about Hope,” he answered strategically, hoping she would desist in mentioning the C word which was enough to throw his emotions completely out of whack.

“Desperately trying to hold onto whatever innocence she supposedly still has, right?” The annoyance from her appearance had suddenly skyrocketed, threatening to break free in all it’s darkened glory.

“What?” He growled, his protective wolf coming out with full force. “I’m going to kill that bloody excuse for a teenage vampire. If he’s even misplaced a strand of hair on her pretty, little head…”

“Relax, grouchy. I was only having a little fun. You know getting into the party atmosphere ahead of tonight.”

“You call that fun, Rebekah?”

“Given your frustrated expression, gritted teeth and completely predictable reaction, I definitely consider this fun,” she joked, poking him in the chest as he emitted a low and adversarial growl by way of response to her unnecessary teasing. 

“Relax,” she drawled, consulting the state of her manicure as she said it. “As much as I love messing with you, I have no intention of dealing with your dogged wrath. It has a tendency to ruin my day and you know how much I hate that.”

“Speak for yourself,” a cheeky and familiar voice chuckled.

“Since when are you invited?”

“That’s not very nice, Niklaus,” Elijah chided, as only he could.  Klaus turned to face his brothers quizzically. “That standard of invitation deserves optimal attendance.”

“Beautiful font usage by the way, Nik,” Kol admired, holding up one of his prized invitations. 

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Rebekah asked, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“That’s not my style,” Elijah baulked. “Kol, on the other hand…”

“Is a bloody angel.” 

“Even I know that’s not true,” Hope responded, surprising them all from the terrace door. “Angel is probably the last explanation I would use to describe you, Uncle Kol.”

“She’s certainly your daughter, Niklaus,” Elijah offered, a telling smile tugging at the corners of his usually serious mouth. “No one can apply that much venom while simultaneously smirking.”

“Excuse me…”

“You’re excused,” Kol chuckled. “Nothing wrong with a healthy sense of humour, big brother.”

“Last time I checked, the relationship I share with my child had nothing to do with your pathetic attempts at humour.” Klaus had been planning this Cotillion for months and the fact his siblings had decided to come in and make it about them as usual frustrated him immensely.

But as soon as they’d appeared they’d subsequently scattered to inspect the impressive property without much explanation. Klaus liked to think they were scared of him or his ire was too much for their precious constitutions to handle but he wasn’t quite so sure it was either. His eyes flickered to his daughter inquisitively.

“Hope.” She didn’t respond immediately, which was a telling sign, so he continued. “I have to say your magic is certainly coming along nicely, you know given that impromptu exit.”

Hope was just as beautiful as he’d imagined all those years ago when he’d cradled her as a baby, her brown locks cascading down her back and those intense, blue eyes regarding him curiously before a rogue eyebrow lifted.

“You so owe me,” she replied gruffly. Klaus certainly hadn’t seen that manipulative maneuver coming but was extremely proud as only a blood thirsty, Original hybrid could be of his only child. “Uncle Kol and Elijah I can handle but Aunt Rebekah is another story.  She has this high pitched squeal that is extremely painful to my sensitive ears.”

“Like father, like daughter,” he chuckled. “That screech is all kinds of disturbing.”

“So, she’s coming, right?” Klaus momentarily closed his eyes knowing exactly who she was asking about, and it wasn’t Rebekah, but he had no desire of discussing Caroline with his teenage daughter. 

“The screaming banshee will be here in full voice, don’t worry.”

“Stop avoiding the subject,” she chided. Klaus immediately felt like he was the child and Hope the parent in this role reversal scenario.

“Miss Forbes needs to be here.” The truth was he’d agonized over whether to send an invite on the slight chance she’d attend but after their last encounter he doubted she would. Another rejection from Caroline would have been too much to take.  

“Miss Forbes is the principal of a very busy and demanding magic school which I think you might have heard of, dearest daughter. It’s in this sleepy little town called Mystic Falls…”

“Has Marcel been teaching you some sarcasm since I last visited?”

“I resent that,” he argued. “After one thousand years on this earth, I have acquired plenty on my own, especially when it comes to dealing with your aunt and uncles.”

“It just wouldn’t be right without her,” she pouted, her bottom lip well and truly extended for extra effect, her blue orbs and long eyelashes downcast.

“Nice try,” Klaus grinned, pulling her into his arms greedily. He always missed her during their lengthy absences but even though she was challenging his authority he wouldn’t have Hope any other way.

Not that he’d admit it to his daughter, the last time he and Caroline had met hadn’t gone exactly the way he planned and seeing her again would have been decidedly awkward. His mind drifted back to that particular night.

3 months earlier - Mystic Falls Grill – 2300 hours

Round and around and around and around we go….

“Someone told me you were wreaking havoc in the local establishment,” her tart accusation was enough for Klaus to turn around lazily. He’d had a few too many whiskeys and although he could see three of her, Klaus couldn’t miss just how gorgeous she looked with her blonde waves cascading around her shoulders and those bright, blue eyes blazing in his direction.

“Wreaking havoc? I think the locals need to get a life if they consider this a disruption. I forgot just how small this bloody town is,” he raised his voice, looking around at the curious glances from fellow patrons. “Let me guess, it was Jeremy? He always did despise me.”

“Probably because you turned his doppelganger sister into your personal blood bag amongst other questionable things,” Caroline hissed. “And keep your voice down.”  

“And here I thought we’d moved past those days when you detested me so much,” Klaus huffed, throwing his dart at the board but completely missing the target.

“Nice shot,” she teased. “But just so you know Matt alerted me to your presence.”

“The quarterback? I really should have known.”

“Don’t you mean Sheriff? He took the liberty of telling me before he took any action.” 

“The human taking action against yours truly? Now that I would pay to see,” he chuckled. “So, what exactly did he think you could do about my attempts at disturbing the peace?”

“Just when I thought you’d matured then you have to go and prove me wrong,” she accused.  

“I’m not sure why you’re surprised.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Caroline inquired, hands now firmly on those shapely hips he knew from past experience.

“Well, according to Principal Forbes, I’m just a terrible father,” Klaus growled, aiming another dart, this time it flew straight past the board and landed dangerously close to an unsuspecting patron at the bar. Klaus was a little disappointed he hadn’t made contact given his current mood.

“Were we both at the same meeting? I don’t recall saying that during the parent teacher interview this afternoon.” 

Klaus had ventured to Mystic Falls in an effort to prove himself as a parent. It was about his dedication to his daughter but Klaus had secretly hoped to impress Caroline at the same time. He truly believed he’d grown up just as his daughter had over the years and wanted her to see that too. Things obviously hadn’t gone to plan. A few heated and throwaway lines had ended with him storming out of her office and to the Grill for a much needed whiskey or twenty.

“You might as well have.”

“Well, please explain it to me professor, this should be very interesting.”

“You said she is easily distracted.”

“A short attention span isn’t completely unheard of in a teenager but there are ways to combat such tendencies.”

“Yes, you mentioned that pearl of wisdom. Apparently she needs some solid structure in her life.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with structure.” 

“Oh, you mean your helpful suggestion that I be more present in Hope’s life. Last time I checked you run a boarding school, sans parents.”

“I said,” she huffed in frustration. “That parental interaction, no matter the distance, is vital.”    

“I wasn’t aware you were monitoring our interaction or apparent lack of as you like to believe,” she attempted to respond before he interrupted. “I sent her to your school because not only was it a way for her to escape the tumultuous, Mikaelson drama but because I knew you were the only person, outside my family, that I trusted to nurture and influence my daughter.” 

The prolonged silence and her down cast eyes was enough for Klaus to realise he’d made his point, he just wished that it didn’t hurt so much to deliver.  Then she found her voice.   

“The reason she’s distracted is because of that tumultuous, Mikaelson drama. Your safety is always on her mind, which is why contacting her more often may allay some of those anxieties.”

“And her safety is always on mine which is why I need to keep my distance. This is the only way.” He insisted stubbornly, attempting to throw another dart before her hand found its way to his bare forearm. He stilled, her vanilla scent and the effect her touch always had on him was an intoxicating and dangerous combination. 

“I’m getting tired of this wounded, wolf act, Mikaelson,” she accused, her blue eyes searching his curiously.   

“Well, I’m a little sick of not living up to your expectations, love,” he rasped.

He held her gaze unflinchingly and could swear he saw something resembling remorse in them. Klaus figured that given his poor record, he’d probably misjudged that reaction too. The tension between them lingered. If there were other people in the bar anymore, Klaus hadn’t noticed.

“I…” she murmured. For someone who was usually so composed, it was obvious she was struggling with their close proximity. Klaus wanted to comfort her, he wanted to pull her into his arms but knew she wouldn’t return his gesture. Klaus made his way towards the exit without a backwards glance.

“So, you’re just going to leave like this?” She bit out.        

“It’s what we do, isn’t it?” He was gone before she could even muster a whimper of reply.

Of course he’d regretted it. Klaus had travelled to Mystic Falls to prove he’d grown but had instead illustrated the very opposite.  His insecure side felt she’d provoked him on purpose. Anyone else who dared to earn his ire would have found a stake in their chest but Caroline was a challenge he’d never managed to resolve, even after all this time.

Route 11, New Orleans LA, 1500 hours 

Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know…. 

Caroline had lost her bearings momentarily and almost missed the turn off into New Orleans before moving the steering wheel abruptly to the left, the memories causing her feelings to resurface.

She’d shelved them when she thought he was an evil maniac, then when he’d offered her gifts and unexpected solace but now after so many years apart she was struggling with her feelings for the Original hybrid.

Their last meeting in Mystic Falls should have closed the book on their problematic relationship but as much as Caroline thought he was being difficult she secretly knew she was too and wasn’t proud of her actions that day.

She always considered herself professional with students and in turn their parents but for some reason her emotions had betrayed her that afternoon. Klaus had acted out. Knowing the Original Hybrid and his temper, this wasn’t an unusual reaction but she began to question why she chose to push that particular issue.   

Caroline’s cell chimed signaling a text, breaking her from her trance, she glanced over briefly to check the screen. It was Hope sending the address for the venue, not that she was surprised. She was the very reason Caroline had made her way to New Orleans, against her better judgment.

Apparently she was anxious about the impromptu cotillion her father was planning in New Orleans. Not because she didn’t want it but because she seriously doubted his event planning skills. Caroline had to concur. Usually he sat back and let his minions go wild and even she knew that was a recipe for disaster.

Given their last interaction in Mystic Falls, this decision was completely crazy but her obsessive compulsive side had taken over and there was no way she could sit by while Hope’s entrance into womanhood was held hostage to an amateur, event planning hybrid. The fact she hadn’t received an invite was also a bone of contention but after his outburst in Mystic Falls she wasn’t surprised he’d be so childish. She pressed her foot to the accelerator, knowing she had limited time to fix this hot mess before leaving town as quickly as she’d arrived.

“Hope Mikaelson,” Caroline chided, making her way swiftly into the plantation’s ballroom forty-five minutes later. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”

“Miss Forbes,” she squeaked, appearing from around the corner, her body language guilty as hell. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Why exactly? To deal with this event that was going to be the biggest disaster since the Titanic? And before you try to deny that, those were the exact words you uttered in my office last week.”

“I suppose I may have overreacted slightly,” she murmured, sheepishly.

“Slightly? This venue is beautiful,” she gestured around the room, then made her way over to one of the tables for closer inspection. “Peonies? Are you kidding me? These flowers are gorgeous, not to mention seasonal. These candelabra, table centerpieces are stunning, the Wedgewood crockery is immaculate, this menu is equal parts modern and traditional. And these invitations…”

“I know, the stationary and font is all wrong.”

“They are perfect,” Caroline sighed. “My standards are high but whichever minion planned this is absolutely brilliant. Just don’t tell them I admitted that.”

“It was him.”

“What?”

“Dad planned this whole event unassisted,” she admitted, taking a seat on a nearby chair. Caroline was rendered speechless momentarily. “He’s been an absolute control freak about everything, if you must know.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Caroline drawled, knowing she was frequently guilty of the same thing.

“He’s been desperate to make this absolutely perfect.”

“Knowing your father, I’m not surprised about that. But I’m still curious as to why I’m even here given he seems to have everything well and truly in hand.”  Hope paused, trying to articulate what she felt but also keep Caroline in town as long as possible.

“If you must know, it’s my outfit.”

“I’m struggling to believe that, Hope,” she insisted, her eyebrows rising dubiously in the brunette’s direction. “That’s one area your father has no problems with whatsoever.” Their past and the outfits and jewelry he’d gifted her in that time had convinced Caroline just how impeccable his taste was and would always remain.

“It’s high neck and long sleeves,” she groaned. “Dad wants every male in the room and in my future life to know that I’m going to be celibate forever. I think a nun’s habit is more revealing than his choice.” At that point Caroline knew she may have a point given his overwhelming and protective nature. 

“Fine, where is this outfit exactly?” 

“The compound.” 

“I can’t go there,” she shook her head decisively. Caroline’s plan had always been to arrive like an event planning fairy godmother then high tail it out of New Orleans before he even knew she’d been there. “That’s not part of our agreement.”

“We have a window of opportunity,” Hope assured Caroline. “He’s meeting with Marcel and my uncles about a recent disturbance in the Quarter.” Caroline was dubious but the fact Hope might not have the perfect outfit for her cotillion was weighing upon her heavily.

“Fine, but if you’re lying I will have no qualms in putting you on detention all year.” Hope nodded solemnly, secretly happy that her plan was coming into full effect.

Southern Oaks Plantation – New Orleans, LA – 2000 hours

Not really sure how to feel about it. Something in the way you move…

Klaus had been nervous all day, something completely unheard of for the Original Hybrid but if it meant his daughter had the best cotillion ever it was worth it.

He’d entered the ballroom an hour earlier, straightening his black tie compulsively. Hope had been extremely private, insisting that he leave the compound while she finished getting ready with Rebekah. Klaus knew she’d look stunning but at the same time it would have been nice to ride with her in the limousine to the Cotillion he’d planned so meticulously.

Instead he’d been blessed with the presence of his brothers en route. The only thing calming his nerves were the few glasses of Moet he’d downed on the way, mainly to block out Kol’s incessant yammering. He was hoping the rest of the night would fare slightly better.

Josh’ dulcet tones made their way over the speaker system as the guests waited in anticipation for the arrival of his beautiful and accomplished daughter. “And now, let’s welcome the guest of honour, Hope Mikaelson.”

All eyes in the ballroom made their way towards the entrance, including his. Klaus didn’t think he’d ever felt more nervous in his life and given the challenges he’d faced over his lifetime, that was saying something. Roman stood there expectantly like him, Klaus had threatened him with sudden death earlier if his hands found their way any lower than her back during the dance so Klaus assumed that part of proceedings was at least under control.  

Hope emerged, stunning in gold, not at all what he’d planned for the evening. But who threw him off completely was standing right behind his daughter, an absolute vision in white silk. He knew the intricate beading on that dress almost as well as he knew the curves of the woman wearing it.  Her blonde waves were tied back, exposing the creamy length of her neck. A neck he’d explored in great detail during their time in the woods. But why was she here and wearing that particular dress?  

“You might want to stop gaping, Niklaus,” Rebekah scoffed, making her way by his side. “It’s not an attractive look.”

“What is she doing here? Did you…” 

“I know your immediate reflex is to blame me for everything but you might want to consult the daughter you think is so innocent before accusing me of anything.”

“I should have known,” he growled, just as Josh was calling him to the dance floor for the traditional father-daughter dance with Hope. At least he’d have chance to ask his daughter why she’d betrayed him tonight.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she mumbled, the smile still plastered on her face for the rest of the guests’ benefit. 

“Do you?”

“I kind of asked Miss Forbes to help pick another dress. The one you suggested was just a little safe,” she offered, tactfully. Klaus was immediately offended, not because she didn’t like her dress but because Caroline’s appearance had nothing to do with him.

“It was timeless and elegant...”

“No, it was dated, boring and designed for someone much older than me. You know, I am going to grow up dad, I’m not going to be your little girl forever.” Klaus wasn’t one to show emotion but right now he was struggling, the lump in his throat not doing much to facilitate speaking. 

“But what you’ve done in planning this amazing event is perfect, I couldn’t ask for a better introduction into society,” Hope smiled gratefully. “Do you, uh, like my dress at least?”

“Queen Victoria would be proud of just how well you wear it,” he sighed, looking at the golden creation that fit Hope like a second skin. “Someone’s obviously been rummaging around in the attic.”

“It was Caroline’s idea,” she admitted. “Apparently she knows all about your…” 

“Creepy trophy case of collectables,” he finished, a stray smile crossing his face as he reminisced the night of her Prom in Mystic Falls before realising just what that particular discovery meant. She knew everything. 

Luckily Roman did his duty and took Hope off his hands as per cotillion protocol. He needed to speak to her now. His eyes darted around the room but Klaus couldn’t place her. Had she already left?    

Makes me feel like I can't live without you. It takes me all the way...

Caroline thought she could handle this but her emotions were telling her something completely different. Watching Klaus dancing with Hope had brought back so many memories. All those times they’d danced before she’d resented him but seeing him tonight, and after what she’d discovered in the attic, Caroline only felt one thing and it was life changing.  

She’d made a speedy exit towards the outdoor terrace. Although she was a vampire, suddenly fresh air seemed vital. Her hands found the railings, glad to have something to hold onto. 

“You came?” His familiar and low voice was enough to send ripples through her entire body.

“For Hope,” she managed to get out, rooted to the spot and unable to turn around given she would betray her true feelings. “Someone needed to get her out of that nun’s habit.” 

He chuckled, surprising Caroline slightly but also glad he’d lightened the tense atmosphere. “My fatherly instincts obviously need some tweaking.” Now he was next to her, his aftershave infiltrating her nostrils as his hands grasped onto the same railing. “I’m grateful for your assistance, love.” 

“But you couldn’t even muster an invitation?” She asked, unable to help herself. It had been something eating at her for weeks.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come after the way we left things in Mystic Falls,” he admitted, his blue eyes now fully focused on the ground.

“You mean when you immaturely stormed out on me without trying to deal with the situation? Oh yes, I remember it well. Klaus Mikaelson not getting his way so he acts out childishly.” 

“I have character flaws, it’s not something I’ve ever denied to you, Caroline,” he murmured quietly. “Yes, I could have handled things better but I didn’t. It’s something you bring out in me and I’m powerless to stop it.”

“Powerless? Coming from the Original Hybrid and most powerful creature on earth, that is surprising.” Caroline felt her faltering courage return, turning to face him. She needed to see this through.

“Every artist has their muse, every King their Queen and every superhero has their kryptonite, you just happen to be mine,” he uttered. “I’ve never denied that.”

“But yet you keep things locked away in a special chest without giving me the opportunity to…” 

“To what?” He growled, his crimson lips tight. “To reject me yet again? I can only take so much, Caroline.”

“So, this chest was supposed to languish in your attic, just like the rest of your life? Lonely and untouched?”

“Yes.” So much emotion displayed in one short response. Caroline could make out the tears brimming in his blue eyes, suddenly wanting to comfort him. She extended her hand wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen.

“As much as I adore Hope, what pulled me here today was you,” she conceded. “I think I’ve always loved you, it just took me way too long to see just how much. I’ll admit, I was unfairly harsh during that parent teacher interview. I think it was because I missed you just as much as Hope did. But it wasn’t until I opened that chest this afternoon that it all fell into place.”

“That dress too much to resist?” His left eyebrow cocked curiously.

“When I said I wanted to look like ‘Princess Grace of Monaco hot’ at prom I didn’t expect you to save me her dress from To Catch a Thief.”   

“Only the best for you, sweetheart,” he smirked, playing with the bracelet on her wrist that he’d gifted to her all those years ago. 

“But it was the journal inside that really moved me,” she whispered, moving into his arms slowly. “Every time we met was documented, every emotion and feeling shared on those pages.” 

“Even if we were never together, I wanted you to know how I felt on all those occasions,” he murmured, his arms encircling her tiny waist while nuzzling into her hair, inhaling her scent at the same time.   

“I know what my bedtime story is going to be for very long time,” she cooed, squeezing his shoulders affectionately and losing herself in his embrace.

“Do you think it would be rude to leave early?” He said huskily into her hair, Caroline could feel the growing bulge in his suit pants and knew exactly what he had in mind.  

“Finally, I’ve found a weakness in your event planning,” she grinned triumphantly, pulling away briefly to place a lingering kiss on his temple. “The organiser is always the last to leave, especially when he’s the guest of honour’s father.”

“Really,” he complained, his lips finding her neck and covering the length of it with kisses.

“Really.” She insisted, pushing him away, albeit reluctantly. “But after the last drink is poured you are mine forever.”

“I intend on holding you to that,” he smiled, pulling her closer and placing his lips upon hers greedily. Caroline didn’t think she would ever tire of that feeling. 

“We need to discuss a few other things too, like that outrageous cheque that’s burning a hole in my pocket and the wedding dress,” she offered, while pulling him towards the ballroom. Klaus had secured part of Princess Grace’s wardrobe, including that stunning and very famous look.

“It’s a classic.” Klaus offered choosing to ignore her cheque comment for obvious reasons.

“Yes, but I fully intend on designing my own wedding dress,” she argued, always the event planner. 

“I didn’t think I’d even asked yet?” Klaus responded cheekily. Caroline turned around briefly to deliver a wicked grin.

“After tonight, you will never want to let me go.”

I want you to stay...

On my Beginning of Another Story Drabbles on FF HERE

[filmfanatic82]

The Long Game - Chapter 6: No One Else

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 6: No One Else

“Ow! C’mon, T. I already said I was sorry,” Zack’s voice echoes in the nearby distance, cutting through the silence of the Ely precinct parking lot.

Kim perks up at the sound, pulling herself up off of the ground and dusts off the back of her jeans. She spots Zack and Trini making their way out the front door of the precinct. Zack sports a few noticeable bruises and walks with a slight limp to his left leg. He’s not in the best of shape to say the least, but at least seems to be moving which is a plus.

“Tu idiota de mierda!” Trini slaps Zack in the arm with each and every word she fires off, unable to control her overwhelm sense of anger at him and the situation. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t.” Zack flashes Trini a cheesy grin, which only infuriates her even further.

“Not the point. Illegal fight club, Zack. Do you know how insanely lucky you are? You’re ass could’ve been heading for lock up right now if it weren’t for…” Trini trails off as she struggles with how to even finish her sentence. Her eyes wander upwards, across the parking lot and lock in on Kim.

Zack suddenly stops walking as he picks up on Trini’s hesitation. His eyes follow her gaze and then--

“Holy fuckin’ fuckballs!” Zack blurts out as his jaw falls open in complete and utter shock.

“Hey,” Kim quietly responds with a subtle wave of her hand, but makes no attempt to move any closer. She knows better. There’s just no predicting what the lengthy, man-child’s reaction is going to be. And, unlike with Trini, Kim can’t guarantee that she’ll be able to restrain herself if Zack throws a punch or two.

Zack remains frozen in his tracks, unable to do much of anything except stare at Kim. He blinks a few times, still completely slacked jawed, as if not fully believing the sight before his eyes.

“Snap out of it,” Trini commands Zack, giving him a jab in the side.

“What the actual fuck?” Zack fires back with an unusual seriousness to his voice, finally breaking out of his trance. He searches Trini’s face for some sort of explanation, but comes up short. Trini’s stoic “I don’t do emotion” mask is firmly in place. “Trini?”

“Not now.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

“Not now, Taylor.”

Trini starts to head towards Kim, but Zack grabs hold of her arm, spinning her around to come face to face with him. “Trinity Marie Gomez. What...the...fuck?”

“Zack, I can--”

“Shut up.” Zack snaps in Kim’s direction with a menacing growl.

“She’s the reason you’re standing out here.” Trini wrenches her arm out of Zack’s grip and then gives him a two-handed shove in the chest for good measure. “So calm the fuck down.”

Not even waiting for Zack’s response, Trini continues on down the front steps of the precinct and straight towards Kim. “What’s the plan now, Hart? We can’t all fit on that thing.”

Kim runs her hands through her hair, trying to shake off the underlying tension of the moment. “I already went ahead and ordered you two an uber. It should be here in ten. There’s a decent hotel roughly 20 minutes away from here. Figured you guys could use a hot shower and freshen up before we hit the road again. The reservation is under Hart.”

“What about you?”

“Need to run an errand first.”

“Kim…”

“I’ll be right behind you guys. Promise.” Kim says with a bit of a reassuring smile.

Trini gives a small nod in confirmation and then quickly glances back at Zack, who’s still stationed on the front steps of the precinct, staring down Kim with a harsh venomous hatred.

“So I’m taking it, he’s not a fan of mine?” Kim lets out a light, breathy laugh as she ever so slightly shifts from foot to foot.

Kim’s relationship with Zack had never been the closest of ones. Yes, at one point in time, they had been like family to one another. An irksome yet lovable brother who knew just how to push all of her buttons at the worst possible times. Someone who was supposed to love her unconditionally. No questions asked.

But then Kim went ahead and committed the one, unforgivable offense in the book of Zack… She shattered Trini’s heart into a million pieces.

“Do you bame him?”

Kim shakes her head no, unwilling to open her mouth in fear that if she does, she won’t be able to stop the apologetic truth from flowing out.

A momentary silence falls between the two of them, as they each chose to stare off into the night’s sky, then--

“I’ll deal with Zack,” Trini huffs out with a heavy exhale of breath. “Just be safe, okay?”

“I will.”

And, with that, Kim grabs her helmet out of the side saddle bag and mounts the bike, pausing the briefest of moments to simply watch as Trini walks back over towards Zack. Her hand unconsciously reaches up and touches the outline of the necklace buried beneath the confines of her t-shirt. “Promise.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Mierda!” Trini’s hips jut upwards in a primal desire for more friction, as her breath rapidly quickens. Her hands frantically gropes around, desperate for something -- anything -- to hold on to. She’s racing towards the edge at a breakneck speed. “Fóllame, Princessa. Fóllame.”

Trini’s words tap into something, deep down within Kimberly’s core, instantly sparking an almost uncontrollable fire. Flames shoot up, licking every inch of her skin as a surge of pure adrenalin rushes through her veins.

There a need… No. More like a hunger. An insatiable hunger that up until this very moment, Kimberly has never felt before. It claws its way upwards, infiltrating her thoughts until nothing else seems to exists. Kimberly needs to go harder. She needs to feel it all.

Kimberly plunges a third finger into Trini, as her lips wrap themselves around Trini’s clit. She momentarily forgets to breathe, as all of her senses are on complete and utter overdrive.

God, how she never wants to stop fucking Trini.

“Ay, Dio… Princessa--” Trini screams out as she plummets over the edge in a blaze of pure, undiluted ecstasy. Her body tenses under Kimberly, limbs uncontrollably spasming.

But Kimberly doesn’t let up. She can’t.

Kimberly continues worshiping every inch of Trini’s body, keeping up the ferocious intensity. She craves more. More of everything that Trini has to offer.

Trini’s body squirms beneath her in a fine mixture of pleasure mixed with pain as she quickly reaches another peak. Her hands grabs hold of the headboard behind her and instantaneously sounds of wood splintering fills the bedroom.

“Kimberly, I… I…”

“Just a little more, baby.” Kimberly moans into Trini as she feels herself begin to teeter on the edge as well. She increases her pace even more, to almost an animalistic level. It’s rough. Beyond rough. But she needs to feed the hunger.

And just when Kimberly feels like she has nothing more to give--

“Mierda!”

Trini grabs onto Kimberly, digging her nails into the flesh of her lower back, as they tumble over the edge together.

Kimberly tries to hold on, but it’s no use. Black dots pepper her vision… Followed by a flood of green. Emerald green.

“Princess?”

It’s gone.

Kimberly slowly removes her hands from Trini and then carefully makes her way up, curling herself into the tiny latina’s open arms. She plants a tender kiss on Trini’s cheek. “That was--”

“Fuckin’ intense,” Trini finishes her thought with a hint of a smirk. She gently pushes a stray, sweaty lock off of Kimberly’s forehead, letting her fingers dance along the contour of her face.

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know--”

“Hey. Stop.” Trini pushes herself up a bit to come face to face with Kimberly. “You’ve got nuthin’ to apologize for, Princess. Absolutely, nuthin’, okay?”

Kim nods and can’t help but match Trini’s smile. She nuzzles her head even further into the crux of Trini’s neck and lets out a deep, content sigh of relief. “I love you.”

“Ditto, Princess.”

“No. I mean it like I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else.”

“You sure about that? Forever’s a long time,” Trini playfully quips as she wraps her arms tighten around Kim’s body, almost as if to confirm that this moment is real.

“Without a doubt.”

“Careful. That’s almost starting to sound like a proposal.”

Kimberly lightly laughs to herself, then--

“Oh, you’ll know when I’m proposing, Gomez.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” Kimberly pops the “p” for added effect and then, in a surprise move, rolls herself on top of Trini, pinning the smaller girl down to the bed. “Round two? Or are you too tired?”

Trini counters Kimberly’s move and flips them over, topping Kimberly in the process. A devilish smirk crawls across her lips as she leans in and gives Kimberly a teasing nip right on her pulse point. “Never.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A few hours and a couple of well placed phone calls later, and Kim finds herself wandering down a hallway of the top floor of a random hotel towards the penthouse suite. She’s not sure the exact name of the place. From the intricate patterns on the carpet, Kim guesses that it might be a Starwood, but beyond that, no clue. Not like it even matters. Just another temporary stop along the way.

As Kim gets closer to the penthouse door, though, she slows down at the sound of Trini and Zack talking. Although slightly muffled from the wall, she can hear every word.

“Quit freaking out,” Trini huffs out with a level of familiar annoyance that she only saves for those closest to her. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? What are you smokin’? You just rolled up here with Kim like you two are bffs again or something. Don’t you remember what happened last time we saw her? She almost killed you, T.”

These words send a chill down Kim’s spine as flashes of unwanted past memories pop back into her mind. She takes a sobering deep breath and shuts her eyes for a moment, attempting to shake them away.  

“Fuck, Zack. Of course I remember. I’ve still got the scars.”

“Than why the hell are you actin’ like everything’s all chill and shit? She’s evil.”

“She’s not evil, Zack.”

“You’re tellin’ me she’s magically cured?”

“No, but...”

“But what, T?”

An unsettling silence falls upon the hallway. Kim runs her hands through her hair and lets out a much needed sigh. She’s heard enough. At least for right now.

“Hey. It’s me,” Kim calls out as she knocks on the penthouse suite door.

There’s a brief sound of shuffling on the other side and then the door opens revealing a somewhat flustered looking Trini. A small but noticeable smile crawls across her lips at the sight of Kim.

“You came back,” Trini says as she lets Kim inside the suite, shutting the door behind her and locking every possible lock available.

“I said I would,” Kim responses, matching Trini’s smile. “You guys get a chance to clean up?”

“Yeah. Thanks. You really didn’t have to--”

“Where’d you go?” Zack interrupts Trini. He gets up from the nearby bed and makes his way over towards the two of them, strategically positioning himself slightly in front of Trini in a pseudo protective big brother move.

“Just had to take care of a few things.”

“Like?” Zack presses Kim with a skeptical stare.

“Like getting us new wheels.”

“You got rid of the motorcycle?” Trini asks with a hint of disappointment to her voice.

“Never. It’s stashed it away for the time being.”

“T, doesn’t your girlfriend drive a motorcycle? What was her name again? Laura? Lauren?” Zack pipes up, instantly snapping Trini’s attention away from Kim.

“Her name was Layla and we broke up over two years ago,” Trini responds through gritted teeth. She shoots Zack a death stare, knowing full well what he’s trying to do. “And yes, she drove a Harley.”

“Right. Layla. Cool chick. Too bad things didn’t work out with you two. What happened?”

But Trini doesn’t reply. She instead smacks Zack directing in the gut, causing the boy to instantly double over in pain.

“Ow… Hey. Remember, still recovering here.”

“Quit it.”

“What? Just askin’ a question, that’s all.” Zack straightens himself out a bit and glances over at Kim with a bit of a devilish smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

But Kim is too preoccupied with her own thoughts to even really notice the exchange.

Girlfriend. The singular word slices through her with a surgical like precision. Of course Trini had had a girlfriend. Or maybe even girlfriends. Why wouldn’t she? It has been eight years. It’s crazy to assume that Trini wouldn’t have attempted to move on by now.

Kim takes a moment to force back down the lump of emotions residing in her throat and then--

“We should get going. It’s a good five hours to Angel Grove,” Kim asks as she readjusts her leather jacket and fishes out a set of car keys from her jeans pocket. “You ready?”

Both Zack and Trini give a nod in response.

“Good. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

And with that, Kim takes off back out of the penthouse, not wanting to be in that room for single second longer.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Can I ask you a question?” Trini’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence of the car.

They’ve been driving for roughly over two hours, without a single word between the three of them. Granted, Zack had passed out in the backseat shortly after they pulled out of the hotel parking lot, but even still there’s been nothing but deafening silence.

It’s not like Kim hasn’t wanted to say something. God, there’s so much she wants to say… but she simply doesn’t know where to start. So instead, Kim’s just been focusing in on the endless stretch of road in front of them while trying to keep her complete and utter exhaustion at bay.

“You can ask me anything,” Kim quietly responds without missing a beat.

Although still looking at the road, Kim can feel Trini shift her body a bit in the passenger's seat, readjust herself to face Kim.

“Back at the police station. What was that? Mind control?”

“No. It’s more like ESP. Or at least what I think ESP would be like.”

“So you can read minds?”

“Sometimes. Yeah.”

Another silence falls between the two of them as Trini chews on her bottom lip, deep in thought. There’s a hesitation there. Kim doesn’t have to read her mind to sense it. A deep seeded fear of what truths the next question could bring.

“Have you ever--”

“No. Never with you or any of the others,” Kim replies cutting Trini off. She knows that she could dive into more details and try to explain how she didn’t even fully discover this strange skill until well after leaving Angel Grove, but it wouldn’t matter. It’s simply not the right time for an unwanted walk down memory lane. Maybe someday, once they’ve made it through what’s to come, but not today. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Trini quickly counters, seemingly a bit still distracted by Kim’s answers.

“Layla. She’s the one that taught you to ride?”

Once again silence. The kind that causes Kim’s skin to crawl with instant regret. She knows she shouldn’t have done that. It’s not her place anymore to know every last detail, let alone to freely ask. But her impulsive nature is just too hard to control. Especially when there are emotions in the mix.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

“It’s okay,” Trini exhales with a deep breath of air. “Yeah. She was a die hard Harley enthusiast and pretty much strong armed me into learning.”

“Not a bad skill to have.”

“I can think of a few better ones, but I guess so.” Trini pauses for a brief moment, tucking a few loose strands of her hair behind her ears. “How about you? Pick up any random skills from your exes that I should know?”

“No.”

“No as in no skills or--”

“No exes,” Kim quietly replies in nothing more than a whisper.

“No one?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a one night stand?”

Kim shakes her head and then digs into the collar of her shirt and pulls out the sabertooth tiger necklace.

Trini’s eyes grow wide in stunned disbelief. She ever so carefully reaches over and lets her fingers ghost over the small, yellow pendant, almost too afraid to actually touch it. “I thought I… How?”

“Went back for it. Before I left. Needed something to remind me…” Kim trails off, unable to finish her sentence. She takes a moment to steady her herself and then--

“I meant what I said that day at the lake. Every single word of it. There’ll never be anyone else. At least not for me.”

As Kim finishes her last words, she feels Trini’s hand come to rest against her thigh, giving a small and gentle squeeze. It isn’t much, but it speaks volumes.

Yet another silence falls between Kim and Trini. But unlike the last two, this one is laced with a strange comfort, as if Kim’s revelation has somehow repaired an unspoken long lost connection. One that they both so desperately yearn for.

Kim redirects her attention once again back to the open road as a small smile stretches across her lips.

Maybe… Just maybe there’s hope for them after all.

[theelasilonews]

THE NIGHMARE THING

By Destiny Flynn (via The Vortex)

((CW: Murder/death, serial killers, inhumane medical experimentation))

I was really pretty dubious when Parker messaged me asking me to do this piece for the Vortex. Frankly, I've spent so long working in an audio/visual medium that I'm not sure I can still accurately convey genuine thoughts or feelings without the piles of seemingly irrelevant visual assets slapped on top, but hey. We all have to push our comfort zones sometimes, right?

I guess before I get into it I should warn Parker's regular audience that I'm going to get into some pretty heavy shit in this one about real people who've been murdered or disappeared. My tone, if you're not familiar with my work, is a little bit flip, and I don't want to make anyone think that I'm making light of these situations. Humor is how I cope with bullshit, but if you'd rather not subject yourself to that, maybe give this one a miss.

That said: The Nightmare Thing.

So, for those of you who are neither regular viewers of my channel, nor longtime followers of the Vortex, there's a fairly well-supported theory in the underground El Asilo community that Vantage Corp. has something to do with El Asilo, CA's astronomical rate of missing persons cases. Parker has written on this on his twitter feed and this blog before, and I have a few videos on the topic on my channel as well. However, as you might have noticed, this theory is difficult to substantiate. Well, Destiny; why's that?

For one, people who disappear in El Asilo tend not to be very high profile, and oftentimes few people really notice them missing Families and friends make a stink about it, of course, but what can a few people really do against the full force of Vantage's insidious legion of public relations personnel? Not a whole fucking lot, turns out.

The second reason for this is that El Asilo also has the largest number of serial killers per capita of any city in the United States. Serial killers aren't exactly the most predictable group of criminals in the world, but most of the ones here don't exactly have a vested interest in leaving...how shall we say? Identifiable bodies. This makes them REMARKABLY good scapegoats. There's nothing we can do to PROVE that any given missing person didn't just fall victim to Joe the Slasher 'round the block, even if when taken as a whole, the numbers don't come close to lining up.

This is not to say that the only victims of the fucking...void monster that I suppose we're supposed to believe is eating all of El Asilo's missing people are obscure nobodies. I point you to Atlas, Junesong, and Eraser, the heroes implicated in the Vantage Day parade bombing, whose case never went to trial. Or to Slightgeist, Miss Miracle, Deaddrop, or Nebulara, all heroes who disappeared without a trace within the last ten years. But with the public approval rating for heroes and vigilantes declining at a steady rate over that same time period driving heroic fan-followings directly into the Earth's core, not many people have paid attention to a few heroes dropping off the map.

Enter Nightmare.

Nightmare, civilian name Christina Karim, was a supervillain and serial killer active in El Asilo between December 2015 and February 2016, when she was famously turned in to the police by fellow criminal Penny Dreadful on Valentine's day. For those of you living under a rock (or outside the city, where I understand news does not often reach) at that time, Nightmare was a rather unartistic career criminal who worked with her partner and sometime girlfriend Cupid, occasionally killing people for shits and giggles. The pair famously killed an El Asilo University pre-law student, shoved her body into a swimming pool locker, and waited for student and police to recover the body.

The circumstances of Nightmare's arrest are largely inconsequential to the funtimes journey I'm taking y'all on, but seem to be mainly tied to Nightmare and Cupid carving out territory which began to infringe one that of Dreadful's gang. The actually important part here is that Nightmare and Cupid were phenomenally well-known and almost universally reviled, in part due to their large social media presence. Both villains blogged regularly about their exploits on social media, and Nightmare's blog is still publicly accessible through the archive on ap3nnyforyourthoughts, Penny Dreadful's public blog. Nightmare's powers (the ability to sense and manipulate fear) were also fairly striking, which brought her quite a bit of villain cred. Because of these and the attention-grabbing nature of their crimes, Nightmare and Cupid received plenty of media attention, and were still well in the midst of their fifteen minutes of fame when Nightmare was abruptly kidnapped and turned over to the EAPD.

"Well, Destiny," I imagine you're thinking at this point, "If Nightmare was so damn infamous at that point in time, her trial should have been a pretty big deal, right? How come I've never heard anything about it?"

And that's a REALLY REALLY GOOD QUESTION, hypothetical strawman reader upon whomst I am projecting the next point of this lengthy and indecipherable diatribe.

The answer is that by all means, this should have been a huge deal. At a time before Smilin' Milo or Chiron reached much public recognition, where the only other serial killer with that level of public caché was Goodknight, this should have been the trial of the god damn CENTURY. Instead?

Nothing.

No hearings. No trial. No plea bargains, no lawyers, no records, no nothing. Just like Atlas, Junesong, and Eraser before her, Nightmare seemed to essentially evaporate into thin air. But why? How does a well-known serial killer just disappear out of jail without a bat of an eye? Well, there are a few theories.

The first, and in my opinion least plausible, theory is that Nightmare is just dead. The theory goes that Vantage took her out in prison before any momentum could build surrounding her trial, for some unknown reason. But I really don't find this one very compelling. First off, there's absolutely no evidence to suggest its' veracity. I know that's a common thread when it comes to your friendly neighborhood megacorp's misdeeds, but this one is especially shaky. What reason would Vantage have for this not to go to trial? Putting Nightmare on display and basking in the glory for putting an end to her terror ought to have been a FANTASTIC photo op. And, as far as Vantage is concerned, losing someone with her powers would have been an enormous waste of resources. Why? Stay tuned, listeners.

The second theory holds that Nightmare, like many criminals before her, was recruited out of her jail cell for Vantage's worst-kept secret; their covert assassination division. It's not as though this hasn't happened before (check my video on the subject for more info,) but Nightmare's circumstances cast some doubt on this theory as well. Readers. I've, like, READ Nightmare's blog. Evidence makes it clear that she was something of an egomaniac. She moved in on Greenback territory because other people having power threatened her. She displayed her crimes publicly because she needed the acknowledgement, often to the detriment of her crime career. It may be just me, but I don't think that's the kind of personality that particularly lends itself to a line of work where one's every move would be controlled by someone else.

And then there's the fact that, since her arrest, Nightmare has clearly not been in touch with her girlfriend, who has been publicly grieving for over a year. One would think that, were Nightmare able to act freely, she would have at least contacted the only person who seemed to matter to her. (NOTE: I attempted to reach Cupid for comment on this article. I was, uh. Not successful. So the possibility remains that something happened behind the scenes.)

Which brings us to the third and most compelling theory. This theory holds that Nightmare IS in Vantage's custody, but not their employ. Remember how, before, I mentioned that she had some incredibly interesting powers? I'm sure Vantage does. I know this theory is probably going to be the most wildly out there for folks who aren't chin-deep in esoteric real-world conspiracy theorist refuse the way I am, but hang on for me here.

There's another theory, a theory that's been around almost as long as Vantage's hold on the city itself. A theory that beyond all the shady Vantage-sponsored legislation, beyond their trapping an ENTIRE CITY in a snowglobe, beyond their sinister anti-hero agenda or even their poorly disguised assassination department, there lie even deeper and more vile atrocities. This theory is that Vantage is running sinister human experimentation somewhere on their premises, largely on supers. Parker has covered some of the evidence for this concept in his post on the El Asilo Monorail Project, and I have a broader video upcoming, but the evidence is there when you know where to look. From employee social media accounts sneaking secrets out into limited follower groups to anecdotes from those claiming to be escapees, there's a lot to sift through, and I'm promising here to go though it later in a way that y'all can actually digest.

But for now...it does sort of explain the circumstances, doesn't it? Frankly, it's the only explanation for the disappearance anyone has posited so far that lines both Nightmare's motivations and Vantage's up with the facts.

As it is, right now the Nightmare Defense is one of the most common arguments for the idea that Vantage is, at least in part, behind a portion of the missing people in El Asilo. After all, if not that, then where the FUCK is Christina Karim?

Anyway, that's all they wrote. If you found this useful or entertaining, you'll probably like Parker's stuff, so please follow The Vortex. And if you want to support what I do, try following me and giving me money so I don't starve and can afford to keep making videos of my inane ranting layered over visuals designed to entrap your attention and distract from the fact that I'm going on for fifteen full minutes about something you don't and will not ever believe because Vantage's agenda is so deeply ingrained in the collective subconscious that it actively discourages resistance and most of you don't even know it's happening.

[PATREON LINK] [KO-FI LINK] [YOUTUBE CHANNEL LINK]

[calethecartographer]

The Star Wars Rule- or why Good and Evil are bland, boring and unrealistic

//I’ll forever be bitter when I read books/watch movies following the Star Wars rule. This more of a spontaneous rant, so don’t expect me to make much sense in some parts.

The Star Wars Rule is, to me, establishing a Force in a story with exposition only given from one side, the side that is supposedly “Good”. We, the audience, believe this sides explanation and perceive it as ‘True’ since it’s coming from the Good Guys. The Jedi are established as GOOD. The Sith give little to no explanation on how they work, why they work nor how their Force works but there is one thing that gets mentioned, glossed over and then- never addressed. It’s established. It’s reinforced. But NO payoff:

That the Dark Side relies on Emotions. The Jedi Order FORBIDS LOVE. FORBIDS CONNECTIONS, PASSION AND WHAT MAKES US WORK AS A THREE DIMENSIONAL PERSON. The reason why we like characters like Yoda, Anakin and Obi-Wan is because these characters have shown to step over the boundaries. It makes them seem real to us. On the other hand, Mace Windu is as boring as one can be. I’m not even sure how he is written because he is so unimportant and bland that we don’t care. Hell, why is BOBA FETT as popular as Han Solo? He has almost no screen time. But in the little screen time we get, he is better established as a character than a Jedi. The Star Wars Rule depends on us never questioning the true nature of our characters. We assume the Jedi Order is good and the Sith are bad. But when you look at the Grand Scheme; there isn’t a winner. They are both morally grey. The Reason why some Motivations and Character Arcs appear wonky is because we have no Extremes in the long run. We think we have Good and Evil but it doesn’t feel like it.

An example done right is, I dread to say this, Assassins Creed. It’s established that we, the Assassins, are the kinda good guys by keeping the Templars, kinda bad guys, from controlling humanity. We are drawn to the Assassins by witnessing the life of Ezio and have a strong connection to this specific Side of the Conflict. All our beliefs and knowledge however gets taken into a choke hold, skinned and hung into a salty gush of wind when we get to the End of the lengthy Tutorial of Assassins Creed 3, in which it’s revealed that the man we thought to be an Assassin, who uses the exact same methods and techniques, is charming and grew on us, fights for the other Side. Haytham Kenway is a Templar. And we didn’t notice the difference.

An incredibly well delivered plot twist, one that makes us question who is right and who is wrong for the rest of the game, something that is picked up in later installments of the Franchise. The Assassins are not better than the Templars. We are not the Heros. We are just like the Villains.

The only moment in the ENTIRE Star Wars Franchise that I remember that comes CLOSE to this is in Clone Wars! There is an episode in which Rex and Cody try to find a Saboteur Among the other clones. This Traitor reveals later that he is tired of seeing his brothers die in a war they have no part in, die for the Jedis who only see the Clones as things, not living, feeling beings. And this episodes HAUNTS the Season. It gets brought up over and over by Rex who starts to mistrust the Jedis except for those who are passionate about what they are doing like Ahsoka Tano. An entire Franchise. Build on a false perception and poorly tried realism.

This Rule got boring. And it made ONE thing very predictable: The Fans will always love the Bad Guys because they bring a Moral Conflict with them. The best characters have the most flaws and do awful things, learn from their conflicts but never achieve perfection. THIS is the reason there are so many “if they joined the good guys” AUs. Because we want these flawed beings to change. We want them to grow into better persons. We can’t or rarely can have this with the Heros because they are a bunch of Morally White Mary Sues.

And when we get characters who are morally grey, the Fans get angry at them for not ‘seeing clearly’. But the morally grey characters are the most clearly seeing ones. Vader, morally grey, Haythem, morally grey, Samurai Jack, morally grey. We need to get rid of this ‘be good’ or ‘be evil’ bullshit in media, at least for a bit until we can have a fresh start. Let’s get more Deadpool like movies where we wonder if the Protagonist went too far for their goal, let the Heroes snap boundaries and let them feel the consequences. Let the Villains Occasionally do something good just to show that, while being an evil politician (because that never gets old, amiright???), they still have PRINCIPLES! Maybe they are willing to kill off an entire boardroom of other Politicians but can’t bring themselves to witness a crying child. Or the other way around, the Hero can’t stand violence against minorities but gets off on punching people they perceive as evil.

Give your characters an ambiguity in their: Motivation Principle Moral Believes

And stop doing the Star Wars Rule.

[batterymonster2021]

The Zipf Mystery

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/the-zipf-mystery-4/

The Zipf Mystery

Hi there, Vsauce. Michael right here. About 6 percentage of the whole thing you say and read and write is the "the" – is probably the most used word in the English language. About one out of each 16 phrases we encounter on a day-to-day basis is "the." the top 20 most original English words in order are "the," "of," "and," "to," "a," "in," "is," "I," "that," "it," "for," "you," "used to be," "with," "on," "as," "have," "however," "be," "they." that’s a fun fact. A section of trivialities however additionally it is extra. You see, whether or not essentially the most often used phrases are ranked throughout an whole language, or in only one booklet or article, just about at any time when a weird pattern emerges. The 2d most used phrase will show up about half of as probably as the most used. The third one 1/3 as mostly. The fourth one fourth as traditionally. The fifth one fifth as traditionally. The sixth one sixth as in general, and many others the entire means down. Severely. For some rationale, the quantity of occasions a word is used is just proportional to 1 over its rank.Word frequency and ranking on a log log graph comply with a satisfactory straight line. A energy-law. This phenomenon is known as Zipf’s legislation and it would not most effective follow to English. It additionally applies to different languages, like, good, all of them. Even historical languages we’ve not been competent to translate but. And here’s the thing. We don’t have any idea why. It is stunning that some thing as problematic as reality should be conveyed by way of anything as inventive as language in such a predictable method. How predictable? Good, watch this. Consistent with WordCount.Org, which ranks words as determined in the British countrywide Corpus, "sauce" is the 5,555th most normal English word. Now, here is a list of how regularly each phrase on Wikipedia and within the entire Gutenberg Corpus of tens of hundreds and hundreds of public domain books shows up.Essentially the most used word, ‘the,’ suggests up about 181 million instances. Realizing these two matters, we can estimate that the word "sauce" must appear about thirty thousand occasions on Wikipedia and Gutenberg combined. And it pretty much does. What gives? The sector is chaotic. Things are dispensed in myriad of methods, not simply vigour legal guidelines. And language is private, intentional, idiosyncratic. What about the world and ourselves might rationale such complicated routine and behaviors to follow this type of general rule? We literally do not know. Greater than a century of research has yet to close the case. Moreover, Zipf’s regulation doesn’t simply mysteriously describe phrase use. It is usually located in metropolis populations, sunlight flare intensities, protein sequences and immune receptors, the quantity of site visitors web sites get, earthquake magnitudes, the number of occasions academic papers are noted, last names, the firing patterns of neural networks, parts used in cookbooks, the number of cellphone calls persons obtained, the diameter of Moon craters, the quantity of persons that die in wars, the repute of opening chess strikes, even the price at which we put out of your mind.There are a lot of theories about why language is ‘zipf-y,’ however no firm conclusions and this video doesn’t incorporate a specific clarification both. Sorry, i do know that is a bummer, due to the fact that we show up to like figuring out greater than thriller. However that stated, we also ask greater than we reply. So let’s dive into Zipf’s ramifications, some associated patterns, some feasible explanations and the depth of the mystery itself. Zipf’s law was once popularized with the aid of George Zipf, a linguist at Harvard school. It is a discrete form of the continuous Pareto distribution from which we get the Pareto principle. Considering the fact that so many actual-world methods behave this manner, the Pareto precept tells us that, commonly of thumb, it is valued at assuming that 20% of the factors are dependable for 80% of the end result, like in language, where the most normally used 18 percentage of phrases account for over eighty% of phrase occurrences. In 1896, Vilfredo Pareto showed that approximately 80% of the land in Italy was owned by way of simply twenty percent of the population. It is said that he later observed in his backyard 20 percentage of his pea pods contained eighty percent of the peas. He and different researchers looked at other datasets and found that this eighty-20 imbalance comes up rather a lot on this planet.The richest 20% of humans have 82.7% of the sector’s income. In the U.S., 20% of patients use eighty percent of wellbeing care assets. In 2002, Microsoft said that 80% of the blunders and crashes in windows and workplace are caused by using 20% of the bugs detected. A long-established rule of thumb in the industry world states that 20% of your consumers are responsible for eighty% of your profits and eighty percent of the complaints you obtain will come from 20% of your buyers. A guide titled "The eighty/20 precept" even says that in a home or workplace, 20% of the carpet receives 80 percent of the wear and tear.Oh, and as Woody Allen famously mentioned, "eighty percent of success is just showing up." The Pareto principle is everywhere, which is just right. Via focusing on just 20 percentage of what’s incorrect, which you can mainly anticipate to resolve eighty percentage of the problems. A type of special unrelated factors purpose this to be true from case to case, but if we will get to the backside of what reasons a few of them, maybe we’ll find that one or more of those mechanisms is liable for Zipf’s regulation in language. George Zipf himself notion languages’ intriguing rank frequency distribution was a consequence of the precept of Least Effort. The tendency for life and matters to follow the path of least resistance. Zipf believed it drove so much of human conduct and hypothesized that as language developed in our species, speakers naturally preferred drawing from as few phrases as possible to get their thoughts out there. It was once less difficult.However to be able to fully grasp what was once being mentioned, listeners desired larger vocabularies that gave more specificity, in order that they needed to do much less work. The compromise between listening and speaking, Zipf felt, led to the present state of language. Just a few phrases are used almost always and many many many phrases are used hardly ever. Latest papers have urged that having a few short, probably used, predictable phrases helps dissipate expertise load density on listeners, spacing out main vocab so that the know-how rate is more regular.This makes sense and much has been realized by using making use of the least effort principle to different behaviors, but later researchers argued that for language, the explanation used to be much more easy. Only a few years after Zipf’s seminal paper, Benoit Mandelbrot confirmed that there could also be nothing mysterious about Zipf’s regulation at all, when you consider that although you just randomly type on a keyboard you’re going to produce words disbursed consistent with Zipf’s law. It is a sexy cool point and that is why it occurs. There are exponentially more different lengthy words than quick phrases. For example, the English alphabet can be used to make 26 one letter phrases, but 26 squared 2 letter phrases. Additionally, in random typing, whenever the space bar is pressed a phrase terminates. In view that there may be continuously a unique risk that the gap bar shall be pressed, longer stretches of time before it occurs are exponentially much less probably than shorter ones.The combo of those exponentials is pretty ‘Zipf-y.’ For example, if all 26 letters and the spacebar are equally more likely to be typed, after a letter is typed and a phrase has begun, the probability that the subsequent input will be an area, as a result creating a one letter phrase, is just one in 27. And sure sufficient, in the event you randomly generate characters or rent a proverbial typing monkey, about one out of each 27 or 3.7 percent of the stuff between areas, can be single letters. Two letter words appear when after opening a phrase any personality however the space bar is hit – a 26 in 27 hazard and then the gap bar. A three-letter phrase is the chance of a letter, yet another letter after which an area. If we divide by means of the quantity of particular phrases of each and every length there will also be, we get the frequency of prevalence anticipated for any unique word given its length. For illustration, the letter V will make up about 0.142 percent of random typing. The word "Vsauce" zero.0000000993 percentage. Longer phrases are much less probably, but watch this. Let’s unfold these frequencies out in step with the ranks they’d soak up on a most on the whole used record.There are 26 possible one letter words, so each and every of the top 26 ranked phrases are anticipated to occur about this often. The subsequent 676 ranks can be taken up through two letter phrases that exhibit up about this in general. If we extend each and every frequency according to how many participants it has, we get Zipf. Subsequent researchers have distinct how altering up the initial conditions can smooth the steps out.Our mysterious distribution has been created out of nothing however the inevitabilities of math. So perhaps there is not any thriller. Maybe phrases are just the influence of people randomly segmenting the observable world and the mental world into labels and Zipf’s legislation describes what naturally occurs when you do this. Case closed. And as consistently And as at all times, thanks for… Wait a minute! Actual language may be very different from random typing. Conversation is deterministic to a unique extent. Utterances and topics arrive headquartered on what was mentioned before.And the vocabulary we have got to work with absolutely isn’t the result of in basic terms random naming. For example, the monkey typing mannequin cannot provide an explanation for why even the names of the factors, the planets and the times of the week are utilized in language according to Zipf’s legislation. Sets like these are limited by means of the natural world and they’re now not the effect of us randomly segmenting the arena into labels. Furthermore, when given a list of novel words, phrases they’ve on no account heard or used before, like when caused to write down a story about alien creatures with unusual names, humans will naturally tend to use the title of 1 alien twice as on the whole as one other, three times as regularly as one other… Zipf’s law seems to be developed into our brains. Perhaps there’s something about the way in which ideas and themes of discussion ebb and drift that contributes to Zipf’s legislation.One more means ‘Zipf-ian’ distributions occur is via approaches that change in keeping with how they’ve earlier operated. These are referred to as preferential attachment procedures. They occur when something – money, views, awareness, version, buddies, jobs, anything fairly is given out according to how so much is already possessed. To go back to the carpet example, if most folks stroll from the residing room to the kitchen across a targeted direction, furniture will be placed in other places, making that course even more wellknown. The extra views a video or photograph or put up has, the extra likely it is to get advocated routinely or make the information for having so many views, both of which offer it more views.It’s like a snowball rolling down a snowy hill. The more snow it accumulates, the bigger its floor subject turns into for gathering more and the faster it grows. There doesn’t must be a deliberate option using a preferential attachment procedure. It will probably occur naturally. Do this. Take a bunch of paper clips and take hold of any two at random. Hyperlink them together after which throw them again in the pile. Now, repeat over and over again. If you seize paper clips which can be already a part of a chain, hyperlink ’em anyway. More customarily than no longer after a even as you are going to have a distribution that appears ‘Zipf-ian.’ A small quantity of chains include a disproportionate quantity of the total paperclip rely. That is without problems due to the fact the longer a chain gets, the better proportion of the entire it involves, which gives it a greater risk of being picked up one day and accordingly made even longer.The rich get richer, the tremendous get larger, the popular get popular-er. It is just math. Might be languages’ Zipf mystery is, if now not induced by it, at the least bolstered by means of preferential attachment. Once a word is used, it’s extra probably for use again soon. Critical facets could play a role as well. Writing and conversation in general stick to a subject matter unless a imperative point is reached and the area is changed and the vocabulary shifts. Approaches like these are identified to influence in vigor legal guidelines. So, ultimately, it appears tenable that all these mechanisms could collude to make Zipf’s regulation essentially the most normal means for language to be. Possibly a few of our vocabulary and grammar was once developed randomly, in step with Mandelbrot’s thought. And the natural approach conversation and dialogue comply with preferential attachment and criticality, coupled with the precept of least effort when speakme and listening are all responsible for the connection between phrase rank and frequency.It’s a shame that the answer is not less complicated, nevertheless it’s intriguing on account that of the penalties it has on what communication is made from. Roughly talking, and that is mind blowing, just about half of any publication, conversation or article will be nothing however the same 50 to one hundred words. And nearly the opposite half can be phrases that appear in that selection most effective as soon as. That is now not so stunning when you do not forget the fact that one word accounts for six percentage of what we say.The top 25 most used phrases make up a few 1/3 of everything we are saying and the highest 100 about half of. Significantly. I imply, whether or not it is all of the phrases in "moist scorching American summer," or all the words in Plato’s "whole Works" or within the whole works of Edgar Allan Poe or the Bible itself, best about one hundred words are used for practically 1/2 of the whole lot written or mentioned. In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 44% and in Tom Sawyer 49.Eight% of the designated words used appear only once within the e-book. A phrase that’s used handiest as soon as in a given determination of words is referred to as a ‘hapax legomenon.’ Hapax legomena are vitally primary to understanding languages.If a phrase has handiest been found as soon as in the entire known assortment of an historical language, it can be very intricate to determine what it approach. Now, there’s no corpus of everything ever stated or written in English, however there are very very tremendous collections and it is fun to seek out hapax legomena in them. For illustration, and this frequently will not be the case after I mention it, but the phrase "quizzaciously" is within the Oxford English Dictionary, however seems nowhere on Wikipedia or in the Gutenberg corpus or within the British countrywide Corpus or the American national Corpus, however it does show up when searched in only one outcome on Google. Fittingly, in a guide titled "ElderSpeak" that lists it as a ‘rare word.’ Quizzaciously, by the way, manner "in a mocking method," as in "The paradist rattled off quizzaciously, ‘good day, Vsauce.Michael here. But who’s Michael and how much does right here weigh?’" it can be a bit unhappy that quizzaciously has been used so infrequently. It can be a enjoyable phrase, however that is the way in which matters go in a ‘Zipf-ian’ procedure. Some things get all of the love, some get little. Most of what you expertise on a every day foundation is forgotten, forgettable. The Dictionary of vague Sorrows, as it most commonly does, has a word for this – alright – the realization of how few days are memorable. I have been alive for almost 11,000 days but i couldn’t inform you some thing about every one among them. I mean, not even shut. Most of what we do and see and feel and say and listen to and believe is forgotten at a cost really much like Zipf’s law, which is sensible. If a quantity of factors naturally selected for considering and speakme concerning the world with tools in a ‘Zipf-ian’ way, it is smart we’d remember it that way too. Some things rather well, most things hardly ever at all. Nevertheless it bums me out many times given that it signifies that a lot is forgotten, even things that on the time you idea you might by no means omit.My locker number – senior yr – its combo, the jokes I liked after I saw a comedian on stage, the names of folks I noticed everyday 10 years ago. So many memories are gone. Once I look at the entire books I’ve learn and have an understanding of that I are not able to keep in mind every detail from them, it can be just a little disappointing. I mean, why even bother if the Pareto precept dictates that my ‘Zipf-ian’ mind will consciously don’t forget generally best the titles and some basic reactions years later Ralph Waldo Emerson makes me think better. He as soon as stated, "I can’t don’t forget the books I’ve read any more than the meals i’ve eaten. Then again, they’ve made me." And as always, thanks for gazing. .

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The Zipf Mystery

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The Zipf Mystery

Howdy, Vsauce. Michael right here. About 6 percent of the whole thing you say and browse and write is the "the" – is the most used phrase within the English language. About one out of each 16 phrases we encounter on a day-to-day basis is "the." the highest 20 most normal English words in order are "the," "of," "and," "to," "a," "in," "is," "I," "that," "it," "for," "you," "was," "with," "on," "as," "have," "however," "be," "they." that’s a enjoyable fact. A bit of minutiae but it’s also more. You see, whether or not essentially the most more often than not used phrases are ranked throughout an whole language, or in only one e-book or article, almost at any time when a bizarre pattern emerges. The 2nd most used phrase will appear about half as most of the time as the most used. The 0.33 one 0.33 as almost always. The fourth one fourth as almost always. The fifth one fifth as traditionally. The sixth one sixth as most of the time, and so on the entire approach down. Seriously. For some cause, the amount of occasions a phrase is used is simply proportional to one over its rank.Phrase frequency and rating on a log log graph comply with a pleasant straight line. A vigor-law. This phenomenon is called Zipf’s legislation and it doesn’t best observe to English. It additionally applies to different languages, like, good, all of them. Even ancient languages we have not been equipped to translate but. And this is the item. We have no inspiration why. It’s surprising that some thing as tricky as reality should be conveyed by whatever as creative as language in this sort of predictable means. How predictable? Good, watch this. In line with WordCount.Org, which ranks phrases as determined within the British country wide Corpus, "sauce" is the 5,555th most fashioned English phrase. Now, here’s a record of how many times every phrase on Wikipedia and in the entire Gutenberg Corpus of tens of hundreds of thousands of public area books suggests up.Essentially the most used word, ‘the,’ shows up about 181 million times. Understanding these two things, we will estimate that the phrase "sauce" must appear about thirty thousand occasions on Wikipedia and Gutenberg combined. And it in general does. What gives? The arena is chaotic. Things are disbursed in myriad of approaches, now not simply vigor legal guidelines. And language is private, intentional, idiosyncratic. What about the world and ourselves might rationale such elaborate events and behaviors to follow this sort of basic rule? We literally have no idea. Greater than a century of research has yet to close the case. Additionally, Zipf’s legislation would not just mysteriously describe word use. It is also observed in city populations, sun flare intensities, protein sequences and immune receptors, the amount of visitors web sites get, earthquake magnitudes, the number of occasions educational papers are mentioned, last names, the firing patterns of neural networks, materials used in cookbooks, the quantity of cellphone calls people received, the diameter of Moon craters, the quantity of men and women that die in wars, the status of opening chess strikes, even the expense at which we disregard.There are a lot of theories about why language is ‘zipf-y,’ however no organization conclusions and this video does not contain a definite clarification either. Sorry, i know that’s a bummer, given that we appear to love realizing greater than mystery. But that mentioned, we also ask more than we answer. So let’s dive into Zipf’s ramifications, some related patterns, some viable explanations and the depth of the mystery itself. Zipf’s regulation was popularized through George Zipf, a linguist at Harvard tuition. It is a discrete type of the steady Pareto distribution from which we get the Pareto precept.For the reason that so many real-world techniques behave this manner, the Pareto principle tells us that, typically of thumb, it is worth assuming that 20% of the motives are in charge for eighty% of the end result, like in language, the place the most typically used 18 percent of words account for over 80% of word occurrences. In 1896, Vilfredo Pareto showed that approximately 80% of the land in Italy was owned by using simply twenty percentage of the populace. It’s said that he later noticed in his garden 20 percent of his pea pods contained eighty percentage of the peas. He and different researchers looked at different datasets and located that this 80-20 imbalance comes up loads in the world. The richest 20% of humans have eighty two.7% of the arena’s sales. In the USA, 20% of patients use eighty percentage of wellbeing care assets.In 2002, Microsoft mentioned that 80% of the mistakes and crashes in home windows and administrative center are precipitated via 20% of the bugs detected. A customary rule of thumb within the industry world states that 20% of your customers are in charge for 80% of your profits and eighty percent of the complaints you receive will come from 20% of your shoppers. A book titled "The eighty/20 principle" even says that in a dwelling or place of job, 20% of the carpet receives 80 percentage of the wear.Oh, and as Woody Allen famously said, "eighty percent of success is just showing up." The Pareto principle is in every single place, which is good. By way of focusing on simply 20 percent of what is incorrect, that you would be able to mainly anticipate to solve eighty percent of the issues. A kind of one-of-a-kind unrelated explanations purpose this to be proper from case to case, but when we are able to get to the backside of what factors some of them, perhaps we are going to in finding that a number of of those mechanisms is accountable for Zipf’s legislation in language. George Zipf himself concept languages’ intriguing rank frequency distribution was a outcome of the precept of Least Effort. The tendency for life and things to comply with the path of least resistance. Zipf believed it drove a lot of human behavior and hypothesized that as language developed in our species, speakers naturally preferred drawing from as few phrases as possible to get their thoughts available in the market. It was once easier. But with a purpose to realise what used to be being mentioned, listeners preferred bigger vocabularies that gave more specificity, in order that they needed to do less work.The compromise between listening and speakme, Zipf felt, ended in the present state of language. A couple of words are used almost always and lots of many many words are used not often. Up to date papers have advised that having a couple of brief, regularly used, predictable words helps dissipate understanding load density on listeners, spacing out most important vocab in order that the understanding expense is more steady. This makes sense and much has been learned by means of applying the least effort principle to other behaviors, but later researchers argued that for language, the reason was even more easy. Only some years after Zipf’s seminal paper, Benoit Mandelbrot confirmed that there could also be nothing mysterious about Zipf’s regulation at all, considering even if you just randomly form on a keyboard you are going to produce phrases dispensed in line with Zipf’s legislation. It is a sexy cool point and for this reason it happens.There are exponentially extra distinct lengthy words than quick phrases. For illustration, the English alphabet can be used to make 26 one letter phrases, but 26 squared 2 letter words. Also, in random typing, at any time when the gap bar is pressed a word terminates. Due to the fact that there may be at all times a particular risk that the space bar shall be pressed, longer stretches of time earlier than it occurs are exponentially less possible than shorter ones. The blend of these exponentials is lovely ‘Zipf-y.’ For example, if all 26 letters and the spacebar are equally more likely to be typed, after a letter is typed and a phrase has begun, the likelihood that the subsequent input can be a space, as a consequence making a one letter phrase, is just one in 27. And sure adequate, if you happen to randomly generate characters or rent a proverbial typing monkey, about one out of each 27 or 3.7 percentage of the stuff between spaces, might be single letters.Two letter phrases show up when after establishing a phrase any personality however the space bar is hit – a 26 in 27 hazard and then the distance bar. A 3-letter phrase is the likelihood of a letter, an extra letter after which a space. If we divide by the quantity of distinctive words of each length there can be, we get the frequency of occurrence anticipated for any exact word given its length. For example, the letter V will make up about zero.142 percentage of random typing. The word "Vsauce" 0.0000000993 percentage. Longer phrases are much less probably, however watch this. Let’s unfold these frequencies out consistent with the ranks they’d soak up on a most mainly used list. There are 26 viable one letter words, so every of the top 26 ranked words are anticipated to occur about this almost always. The subsequent 676 ranks will be taken up through two letter phrases that show up about this customarily. If we prolong each frequency in step with how many participants it has, we get Zipf.Subsequent researchers have particular how altering up the preliminary stipulations can delicate the steps out. Our mysterious distribution has been created out of nothing but the inevitabilities of math. So might be there’s no thriller. Might be words are simply the influence of people randomly segmenting the observable world and the mental world into labels and Zipf’s regulation describes what naturally occurs while you do that. Case closed. And as at all times And as normally, thanks for… Wait a minute! Genuine language could be very one-of-a-kind from random typing. Conversation is deterministic to a certain extent. Utterances and themes arrive established on what used to be mentioned before. And the vocabulary we ought to work with absolutely isn’t the effect of in simple terms random naming. For example, the monkey typing mannequin can not provide an explanation for why even the names of the elements, the planets and the times of the week are utilized in language in line with Zipf’s legislation. Sets like these are confined by the usual world and they’re now not the outcome of us randomly segmenting the arena into labels. In addition, when given a record of novel phrases, phrases they’ve by no means heard or used earlier than, like when precipitated to write a story about alien creatures with strange names, persons will naturally have a tendency to use the identify of 1 alien twice as generally as an extra, thrice as more often than not as an extra…Zipf’s regulation appears to be constructed into our brains. Possibly there is anything about the way in which thoughts and subject matters of dialogue ebb and float that contributes to Zipf’s legislation. Another method ‘Zipf-ian’ distributions arise is via techniques that fluctuate according to how they’ve earlier operated. These are known as preferential attachment strategies. They occur when anything – money, views, awareness, version, pals, jobs, whatever fairly is given out in line with how so much is already possessed. To go back to the carpet instance, if most persons walk from the residing room to the kitchen across a special route, furnishings will be positioned in other places, making that direction even more popular. The more views a video or photograph or submit has, the more possible it is to get endorsed routinely or make the information for having so many views, both of which offer it more views. It can be like a snowball rolling down a snowy hill. The more snow it accumulates, the greater its surface area turns into for gathering extra and the turbo it grows.There doesn’t ought to be a deliberate choice using a preferential attachment process. It will possibly occur naturally. Do this. Take a bunch of paper clips and take hold of any two at random. Hyperlink them collectively after which throw them back in the pile. Now, repeat again and again. For those who clutch paper clips that are already a part of a sequence, hyperlink ’em anyway. Extra almost always than not after a even as you’ll have a distribution that appears ‘Zipf-ian.’ A small quantity of chains contain a disproportionate amount of the whole paperclip rely. That is effortlessly considering the fact that the longer a series will get, the higher proportion of the entire it includes, which gives it a greater chance of being picked up in the future and as a result made even longer.The rich get richer, the colossal get larger, the popular get trendy-er. It’s simply math. Probably languages’ Zipf thriller is, if no longer prompted by it, at least bolstered through preferential attachment. As soon as a phrase is used, it can be extra likely for use once more quickly. Important features could play a position as well. Writing and conversation by and large persist with an issue until a important factor is reached and the discipline is transformed and the vocabulary shifts.Approaches like these are identified to effect in power laws. So, in the end, it appears tenable that every one these mechanisms would collude to make Zipf’s regulation essentially the most natural way for language to be. Probably some of our vocabulary and grammar was developed randomly, consistent with Mandelbrot’s concept. And the normal way conversation and discussion follow preferential attachment and criticality, coupled with the principle of least effort when speakme and listening are all responsible for the connection between phrase rank and frequency.It can be a disgrace that the answer isn’t easier, nevertheless it’s intriguing due to the fact that of the consequences it has on what communication is product of. Roughly speaking, and that is mind blowing, just about half of of any guide, dialog or article might be nothing however the equal 50 to one hundred words. And practically the opposite half can be phrases that show up in that selection handiest once. That is no longer so shocking while you don’t forget the fact that one phrase accounts for 6 percent of what we are saying. The top 25 most used phrases make up about a 0.33 of the whole thing we say and the highest 100 about 1/2. Severely. I mean, whether it’s the entire words in "wet hot American summer time," or the entire words in Plato’s "complete Works" or within the whole works of Edgar Allan Poe or the Bible itself, only about a hundred phrases are used for practically half of everything written or mentioned. In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 44% and in Tom Sawyer forty nine.Eight% of the exact phrases used appear handiest once in the e-book. A word that is used simplest as soon as in a given decision of words is referred to as a ‘hapax legomenon.’ Hapax legomena are vitally principal to understanding languages.If a phrase has only been found once within the whole known assortment of an old language, it may be very complicated to figure out what it manner. Now, there’s no corpus of the whole lot ever said or written in English, however there are very very gigantic collections and it can be enjoyable to find hapax legomena in them. For instance, and this often is not going to be the case after I mention it, but the phrase "quizzaciously" is within the Oxford English Dictionary, but appears nowhere on Wikipedia or in the Gutenberg corpus or in the British national Corpus or the American countrywide Corpus, however it does show up when searched in just one outcome on Google. Fittingly, in a ebook titled "ElderSpeak" that lists it as a ‘infrequent word.’ Quizzaciously, by the way, approach "in a mocking manner," as in "The paradist rattled off quizzaciously, ‘hello, Vsauce. Michael right here. However who’s Michael and the way much does right here weigh?’" it can be a little bit unhappy that quizzaciously has been used so occasionally. It’s a fun word, however that’s the way in which things go in a ‘Zipf-ian’ system. Some matters get all the love, some get little. Most of what you expertise on a daily groundwork is forgotten, forgettable.The Dictionary of imprecise Sorrows, because it often does, has a word for this – okay – the awareness of how few days are memorable. I’ve been alive for virtually eleven,000 days however i could not inform you something about each and every considered one of them. I mean, now not even shut. Most of what we do and see and think and say and hear and feel is forgotten at a rate really just like Zipf’s law, which is smart. If a quantity of reasons naturally selected for pondering and speakme about the world with instruments in a ‘Zipf-ian’ manner, it is smart we would remember it that manner too. Some matters relatively good, most things hardly ever in any respect. However it bums me out regularly considering that it signifies that a lot is forgotten, even things that on the time you thought you would never omit.My locker quantity – senior year – its combo, the jokes I preferred once I noticed a comic on stage, the names of folks I saw every day 10 years ago. So many reminiscences are gone. When I seem at all the books I’ve learn and recognize that I are not able to take into account each detail from them, it’s somewhat disappointing. I mean, why even trouble if the Pareto principle dictates that my ‘Zipf-ian’ mind will consciously recall often best the titles and a few common reactions years later Ralph Waldo Emerson makes me think better. He as soon as mentioned, "I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals i’ve eaten.Nevertheless, they’ve made me." And as perpetually, thanks for gazing. .