#2700s

[reasonsforhope]

"The South Australian premier, Peter Malinauskas, has announced plans to ban political donations from state elections, paving the way for nation-leading electoral reforms.

The state’s electoral amendment bill announced on Wednesday [June 12, 2024] night will ban electoral donations and gifts to registered political parties, members of parliament and candidates. The state will provide funding to allow parties and candidates to contest elections, run campaigns and promote political ideas.

Malinauskas said his bill would put South Australia on the “cusp of becoming a world leader in ending the nexus between money and political power”.

“We want money out of politics. We know this is not easy. These reforms may well face legal challenge,” Malinauskas said.

“But we are determined to deliver them, with this bill to be introduced in the parliament in the near future.”

In a subtle challenge to his federal and state counterparts, the premier told Guardian Australia he thought it was “something that democracies everywhere should be pursuing”.

The Albanese government pledged to introduce spending and donation caps, and truth in political advertising laws, as revealed by Guardian Australia after the 2022 federal election and confirmed by a parliamentary inquiry that reported last July.

The special minister of state, Don Farrell, said last month an agreement between the major parties and the crossbench had not yet been reached. An amendment bill is still expected by the middle of the year.

In order to level the playing field for newly created parties and independent candidates, the South Australia bill will allow candidates to receive donations up to $2,700, although they will remain subject to campaign spending caps.

Those spending caps have been set at $100,000, multiplied by the number of candidates up to a maximum of $500,000.

If the bill is passed, a registered political party will be entitled to a one-off payment of $200,000 before 31 August 2026. Whichever is lower out of $700,000 or the number of party members of parliament multiplied by $47,000 will also be given to parties for operational funding.

Membership fees will be allowed to continue but will be capped at $100 or less a year.

To deter attempts to circumvent the proposed changes, a maximum penalty of $50,000 or 10 years’ imprisonment will apply.

The guide acknowledges the proposal would lead to a rise in the cost of South Australia’s electoral system, but says a tightening of expenditure and party registration rules will keep costs to a minimum.

The Albanese government is under crossbench pressure to introduce electoral reforms before the next federal election.

Lower house independents, including Kate Chaney, Zali Steggall, the Greens, David Pocock, Lidia Thorpe and the Jacqui Lambie Network, joined forces to introduce a bill for fair and transparent elections in March [2024].

The bill contained a suite of reforms including truth-in-political advertising, a ban on donations from socially harmful industries including fossil fuels, and tightening the definition of gifts to capture major party fundraisers, including dinners and business forums."

-via The Guardian, March 18, 2024

[theancientwayoflife]

~ Mountain goat.

Place of origin: Near Eastern, Iranian

Period: Elamite, Proto-Elamite

Date: 3500–2700 B.C.

Medium: Silver and sheet gold.

[muldersfingers]

College best friends AU

I got carried away headcanoning on Discord about these two college best friends, coming home tipsy from a party. (2700 words)

---

His apartment is closer, so she stays with him. 

Candice’s birthday party had been fun, and they were both a little drunk. She had leaned against him the whole way back to his place, a pleasant buzz coursing through her as she clung to her best friend’s arm.

They were giggling about… she wasn’t really sure, as they pushed into his apartment and she immediately plonked herself down on the floor and tore the heels from her feet.

“Ouch,” she complained sadly as Mulder took off his unbuttoned shirt.

Mulder groaned as he dropped himself down to the floor, too, leaning against the wall. 

He looked so cute tonight. His checked shirt was one of her favourites, and when he wore it unbuttoned she liked to tease him about being able to see his nipples through his undershirt.

“Stop looking,” he’d tease back.

They both tended to get quite handsy with each other after a couple of drinks. Scully’s girlfriends never believed her when she told them nothing had ever happened between them. Not even a kiss?! they’d ask. She would shake her head.

That was her best friend. Mulder. She had never even thought of him that way.

-

Nobody believed Mulder when he said he and Scully were just friends. Well, they weren’t just friends. They were best friends. She was the best friend he could ever hope for. He never understood why someone so beautiful and cool would bother with him, but they had been close for over a year now. She took him how he was, in all his geeky idiocy, his unhinged ideas and his ‘overactive imagination’, so she called it.

She was staying with him because his apartment was closer. He loved having her at his place.

She was laying on the floor, on her front, soft and giggly from the shots she had been doing when he found her. Before he whisked her away from the party, away from the crowd and the noise and now… here they were. Alone, in the quiet.

“Let’s watch a movie, Mulder,” she said, and he knew what would happen. She would argue with him about movie choice, fighting to get her own pick, and she would fall asleep within ten minutes. Gentle snuffly snores as her head laid on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said.

He could never say no to her.

-

She swung her legs under her on the couch and curled up against him as the movie started. She was tired, but she needed to unwind from the party, and she loved spending time alone with Mulder, just the two of them, quietly watching a movie together. Perfection.

There’s no way nothing has never happened between you.

Sara’s words echoed in her head. It was so silly. Scully knew, even if her other friends didn’t, that men and women could have a solid, genuine friendship without attraction coming into it.

She looked down. Mulder’s hand was spread on his thigh, and she shifted slightly, her bare knee bumping into his fingers. He looked down absently for a second, shifting slightly before returning his attention to the television.

She supposed… she supposed she wouldn’t mind if he kissed her. Friends kiss sometimes. Even make out, when drunk. It didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t mind, either, if he wanted to place a warm, large, protective hand on her knee. That sounded quite nice.

Alcohol did silly things to her.

-

There she was, head on his shoulder, arms curled around his elbow, fast asleep.

Her bare knees were pressed against his thigh and he couldn’t let himself look. Not Scully. Pretty, vibrant, stubborn Dana, clever enough to be an intellectual sparring partner but loved trash movies. She was wonderful, really.

He could let himself fall asleep, too. Stay here, cuddled up with her. He could probably reach the blanket without jostling her, drape it over them both, cocoon them together from the world.

But… no. They would both ache like hell in the morning. He would put up with it as payment for staying here, like this, but he didn’t want that for Scully. He tried his best to hold her still as he slipped away before gently lowering her down on the couch, propping a cushion under her head.

“Hm?” She stirred, tilting her head to look up at him as he grabbed the blanket.

“Shock horror, you fell asleep,” Mulder whispered with a stupid grin. “I’m going to bed. Sleep tight.”

He draped the blanket over her, crouching down to tuck her in. He avoided her eyes which were fixed on his face. She was sleepdrunk, hazy as she watched him.

“Night, Mulder. Love you.”

“Love you too, pal.”

He leaned in to place a kiss softly to her forehead. She tilted her face slightly, his lips dragging over her eyebrow. He hoped she didn’t hear how his breath hitched.

Mulder skated his fingertips over her cheek before forcing his legs to push him upright and march him off to the bedroom, where he threw himself down on his bed and covered his face with his hands, groaning.

-

Twenty.

She was now a woman in her twenties. It was a momentous day, she thought.

“You’re almost legally allowed to drink all the alcohol you’re gonna consume tonight!” Mulder teased as he filled another bowl with chips.

Scully snorted.

“Who’s coming tonight?” she asked.

“You want the whole guest list?” Mulder rolled his eyes. “Baby, I invited the people you told me to invite.”

“Oh my god,” Scully sighed loudly. “Stop calling me baby.”

Mulder twisted the top of the half-empty bag of chips and whacked her with it.

“I’ll stop calling you baby when you stop acting like a baby.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Anyway. You’re twenty. Just a baby.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” she stated simply. “After the party, after everyone leaves, I’m killing you. But not before, because I could use your help.”

“You should’ve let me host this party for you. It’s your birthday.”

“I don’t mind. Anyway, you’re helping. That’s enough.” 

Mulder unsheathed a stack of red Solo cups and placed them next to the empty punch bowl.

“So, uh… I know I was in charge of the guest list.” He cleared his throat. “But… you got a date for tonight?”

Scully let out a laugh. Little did he know.

“You’re my date tonight, silly,” she said lightly, tickling his ribs as she passed him.

She rolled her eyes at herself. 

-

Mulder considered it his duty to make sure Scully had the best time possible.

His self-assigned jobs were to make sure the punch and chips were always full, and to make sure Scully was having a good time.

“Yes, Mulder,” she said with a giggle and roll of the eyes on his third check. She placed her palm on the side of his head and thumbed the shell of his ear. “A wonderful time, thank you.”

Scully looked ethereal, dancing with her friends and chatting away and giggling. It was by design and not choice that she always looked incredible, but she somehow always managed to look perfect, pick the perfect outfit. Mulder tried not to look at her feet. Not only did he hate himself for how sexy she looked in those stilettos, but he knew her feet would ache later and she would seek his assistance.

As the late night turned to early morning people began to filter out and it was after 3am when the last guest left. She had somehow ended up sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs as she watched Mulder bring through the half-empty punchbowl and the completely empty chip bowls. 

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said dreamily. “Tonight was so perfect.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Come here.”

She held her arms out, parting her legs as he moved closer. His breath hitched as he positioned himself between them, letting her pull him close into an embrace, her body sliding on the counter to press against his.

“You’re the best friend ever.”

Mulder closed his eyes, trying not to think about all the places they were pressed together. He was insanely attracted to her but sex for him had thus far been about nothing but carnal desire, and he just couldn’t think of her that way. It was a bastardisation of everything she was to do that.

But her thighs were nestled either side of him and it was killing him.

They stayed holding each other for several agonising seconds, neither of them pulling away. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh when he felt her lips press into his neck, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Slowly, she pulled away from him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and leaned in. She pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth.

Smiling, she pushed him away, announcing her need to pee, so he held her hand as she jumped down from the counter.

-

Sheepishly, she returned from the bathroom, finding Mulder tidying up in the living room.

She threw herself down on the couch, watching him with his trash bag as he stacked Solo cups and threw them away. He stacked, and stacked, and a cup squelched, overflowed. Scully giggled at him, which earned her a look.

“Mulder,” she said firmly. “Tidy up later. Come sit with me.”

Like a robot that only responded to voice commands, he unceremoniously dropped the trash bag and crossed to the couch. 

They sat in silence as they easily moved into each other, entwining and slotting together, his arm around her shoulder and her head on his, her legs swung up to drape on his lap. His other hand was on her shin, hot and engulfing. Slowly, he slid his hand down to her foot, digging his thumb into her arch.

-

Scully let out a surprised moan and Mulder immediately regretted his actions.

Neither of them spoke. He continued, despite himself, to massage her feet, as best he could with one hand, knowing those wonderful stilettos made her feel sore. He loved and hated doing this for her. The thought that he was making her feel better, feel good, was fantastic, but the noises that came out of her when he did it were nothing short of absolute torture.

It was worse tonight. He removed his arm from her shoulder so he could work on her with both hands, digging deep into her arches. He was such a weak man. Those unholy noises were going straight to his dick, and he should move, throw her off him, but it might upset her, and he could never do anything like that to her. Especially not on her birthday. But she had to feel his half-hard dick against her calf, surely.

She keened as he ran his whole hand over the top of her foot, thumbing pressure gently on her arch. She lifted her knee nearest to Mulder, dragging her calf mercilessly over his dick.

There was no way she missed the bulge against her skin, and there was no way she missed the way his breath caught in her throat. Her movement had to have been deliberate. Hadn’t it?

She slid her leg back to its original position. Mulder turned his head to look at her, and she was staring at him, soft and insistent. She tilted her chin up defiantly. He knew her so well, and she was asking for something. 

He kissed her, achingly chaste in contrast to what was happening in his lap, where she had resumed slowly dragging her leg back and forth.

She licked his lips and he easily parted them, so pliant to give into her every whim. He was overwhelmed. The years of friendship, of yearning, the pain of watching her go on dates with the wrong guys, kiss them at parties all came down to this moment and he clung to her, frightened she would slip away if he let go.

She was in his lap now, fully, straddling him with knees on the couch either side of his hips. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

The thought occurred to him to wonder her motivations. Was she looking for a fling? Was she just drunk, making out with him for some kind of comfort? Would they wake up tomorrow morning and go back to being just best friends? He wouldn’t be able to deal with that.

“Mulder,” she whispered as she pulled off of his mouth. She sighed. “I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship.”

She was going to slide off his lap, halt the journey they were on. Too good to be true, as he suspected.

“But I’ve just wanted this for so long,” she continued. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He had never loved anyone else. She was so precious to him. His guy friends would laugh at him, but he struggled with picturing Scully in sexual situations, even through dark lonely nights, because it felt as though he was defiling her wonderful, ethereal beauty. The perfect image of her in his head. The pedestal he had placed her upon.

But now, she had slipped off of his lap and was standing with her back to him.

“Unzip my dress?”

He was too weak to resist. Too adoring to question anything she said. He slowly unzipped her dress, drawing his eye to the milky white skin of her back. She was without a bra, but he had bashfully taken note of that earlier in the evening. The dress dropped to the floor, and she kept her back to him as she pushed down her tights and panties.

She turned around and she was perfect. She began to tug his white t-shirt from his jeans, bunching it up around his armpits until his stupid brain instructed him to lift his arms. She discarded his t-shirt and placed her hands on his chest.

“Mulder?” she asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he replied immediately, a little too loudly. 

She looked up at him insistently and he realised she was waiting for him to take the lead. Shit. He kissed her again, ignoring the little voice in his head that said you’re defiling her, cheapening her as he unbuckled his belt, popped open the button, dragged down the zip. Her hands tugged his jeans down and he moaned as her breasts pressed into his chest.

It all clicked into place and although the voice inside his head was yelling now, it was drowned out by white noise as Mulder lifted her, her legs wrapping around him as he carried her off to the bedroom.

It was all over embarrassingly quickly, and he wanted to cry. Regardless, she dotted kisses all over his face. It was perfect, she cooed at him, reassured him. You were perfect.

-

An hour of pillow talk and staring into each other’s eyes, pondering the enormity of what they had just done, Mulder disappeared under the covers and found his way between Scully’s legs. She felt positively giddy as he used his mouth on her, perfect perfect perfect as he left her with absolutely no doubt how he felt about her. The guilt she had felt for daydreaming about this was melting away with every touch, every kiss, every lick, knowing that all along, he had been yearning for her just as much as she yearned for him. It was a heady concept.

She was almost disappointed with how quickly she came, not wanting it to be over but happy to see Mulder’s face again. Her beautiful, quirky best friend, the evidence of her orgasm smeared around his face. It was impossible to comprehend.

The look in her eyes told him that maybe – just maybe – he loved her as much as she loved him.

-

Their friends couldn’t believe it. They couldn’t believe they finally did it, and couldn’t believe it took them so long.

If it was so fucking obvious, Mulder thought, why the hell didn’t you tell us?

He actually dreamed about the way she looked when she came. The way she gasped when he cupped her breast. The way she said his name in any context.

She always said thank you after Mulder made her came, and it drove him insane. His gratitude is through the roof.

He was still expecting for the novelty to wear off. To stop trembling when she undressed him to stop getting just a little hard every time she kissed him.

He never did.

[2000beanies]

[atomicjellyb3an]

Driving to my house in the middle of the night

I can’t believe it’s been almost an entire YEAR, since i posted the first chapter to this fic (and i can’t believe it’s taken me this long to make a proper collage for the thing).

But the love it’s gotten (and is still getting) has been amazing! I’m so overwhelmed by it since it was my first Wenclair fic and probably one of my favourites i’ve written

So, because it’s also the spooky season (ignore my shameless self promo) give it a reread or even read it for the first time! ALSO check out the awesome art done by @barblaz-arts

and yeah, thank you again for all the love the fic has gotten!

[pfhwrittes]

hello again.

i’m sorry i’ve been quiet and i know the timing for so many of you is terrible but if you have the time i’d really appreciate some help paying my bills or buying groceries

(the first link will take you to my ko-fi, the second link will take you to my throne wishlist which has gift cards to one of the big supermarkets near me)

thank you to all of you for sticking with me and for your help so far this year. i love you all very much 💜

[incesthemes]

first and foremost i'm blown away by jared's acting in born under a bad sign. he plays meg so well and it allows me to really see and interpret the differences between sam and meg so well, and maybe it's because i'm not an actor but the fact that he can make such a profound yet subtle distinction between "sam" and "demon who's pretending to be sam" feels extremely complex and difficult to pull off, and it's so impressive to me.

what's most striking about this portrayal of meg is how subdued she is while acting as sam. she never has any bombastic or dramatic reactions to things, she's calm and collected and very in control of herself. she seems to be rather incapable of showing extreme, human emotions, and this shows up in her sluggish and matter-of-fact responses. she's extremely committed to her bit and only breaks character when dean is for sure not looking (and only goes so far as a few eye-rolls), but she's not actually sam. they're different people with different emotional capacities and this is evident all throughout the episode. when sam finally regains control of his body at the end of the episode, the change is instantaneous: he's animated and jerky and wildly emotive again.

the other thing that strikes me is that while pretending to be sam, she's unfailingly obedient to dean. i think this reveals a lot about her character, particularly in how she sees sam. it's no secret by now that meg hates dean—even before she was exorcised she showed a heavy disdain for him in both scarecrow and shadow, even going so far as to suggest fratricide. she considers him overbearing and stifling, controlling and cruel, and meg watched sam trot back to that overbearing, stifling, controlling, cruel brother with his tail wagging happily. she sees sam as being suppressed by his brother, especially since the alternative (leaving dean and embracing his fate as boy king) would make sam stronger, larger, more powerful.

so she sees sam as weak, as someone with no will of his own, who's been so beaten down by his horrible older brother that he can't make his own decisions and live his own life. and this is how she portrays sam, following dean's orders, staying in the background, never being too forward.

this all changes drastically when she's confronting jo. she's much more animated and erratic, lacing her words with acid and acting much more physical and dominating. meg can be more of herself around jo because jo doesn't know sam as well and jo won't think to question her the way dean would. this soggy, pathetic, subdued, obedient little brother act is a performance for dean only, so it displays not only how meg sees sam, but how meg sees dean.

it's all such an elaborate ruse, and it reveals a lot about meg's character, and also how sam and dean look from an outsider's perspective—at least, an outsider who wants sam to hurry up and embrace his destiny already instead of letting himself be hold back by his brother. it's a really unique perspective on the story that's been unfolding, and it's performed with what i'd say is a rather high level of skill. seriously, it's amazing how jared pulls this off.

[bbcphile]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook and Complex PTSD Representations: Part I

One of my favorite things about Mysterious Lotus Casebook is how surprisingly nuanced and unusual its portrayal of complex PTSD is. So many shows either introduce character trauma to make the character Sad and Brooding, Angry and Violent (if they’re a villain) or Hesitant to Start a Relationship (if it’s a romance), and that’s usually as in-depth as it gets. If they address the unique after effects of child abuse that lead to complex PTSD at all, it’s usually either explain why a character is a homicidal monster (which is all sorts of problematic) or it’s limited to a single phobia, which can be overcome by the Power of Love, or it’s just something that crops up occasionally for Plot and then forgotten about the rest of the time. 

Mysterious Lotus Casebook gives us two deeply traumatized characters–Li Lianhua and Di Feisheng–who each have clear symptoms of complex PTSD, and yet, their cPTSD manifests completely differently because of the types of traumas that caused it and their relationships to the people causing the traumas. And their manifestations of cPTSD affect just about every level of their being, including their sense of self, their decision-making, and their relationships with others, and it includes some of the incredibly important manifestations of cPTSD that are almost never shown in media while avoiding the most insulting stereotypes! 

PTSD vs cPTSD

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is an anxiety disorder caused by experiencing a single (or short lived) traumatic event (an accident, assault, medical emergency, fighting in a war, etc), where the symptoms last for longer than a month. Symptoms include things like reexperiencing the event (flashbacks), avoidance (of things related to the event), changes in mood (depression, anger, fear, etc), and issues with emotional regulation (hypervigilance–being constantly on the lookout for threats–irritability/angry outbursts, etc.).

Complex PTSD happens if someone has experienced long term, chronic/repeated trauma that induces hopelessness and no chance of escape (survivors of extended child abuse, human trafficking, domestic violence, prisoners of war, slavery, etc.). It’s also often interpersonal in ways a car crash or medical emergency is not, and is particularly linked with chronic trauma during childhood: chronic stress hormones introduce literal physical changes in a growing brain, particularly the amygdala (which processes fear), hippocampus (which is responsible for learning/memory), and the prefrontal cortex (which is responsible for executive function), so it can affect every aspect of life and also affect a child’s progression through developmental stages. In addition to these physical changes to the brain, the prolonged trauma–particularly the helplessness–distorts a child’s sense of self, the perpetrator, and the world in ways that alter their decision making, their memory, and their future relationships. 

For instance, whereas a traumatic event that caused PTSD might make you depressed or not trust the person who harmed you (or to fear driving), the trauma from cPTSD might make you suicidal, blame yourself for your victimization, decide to isolate to avoid interpersonal relationships to keep from getting hurt, or become obsessed with never being harmed again.

Basically, cPTSD has the core symptoms from PTSD with some extra challenges, including issues with emotional regulation, self-concept, interruptions in consciousness, difficulties with relationships, perceptions of the perpetrator, and systems of meaning.

DFS and LLH: CPTSD Symptoms

There’s so much more to say about this than I can cover in this superficial introduction, so this will be the first of a series of metas; I’m hoping to go into more depth about some of these categories in future posts (the DFS and emotional regulation/violence one is already drafted, so stay tuned). 

Difficulties with Relationships (problems with trust, communication, missing red flags): Both DFS and LLH have a history of trusting the wrong people and not trusting the right people, both in the past and in the present of the show: in the past, LLH missed the fact that SGD hated him and DFS missed the fact that JLQ was obsessed with him, and as a result, both sects were destroyed, many people died, and the two almost destroyed each other. If they had communicated with each other instead of fighting at the donghai battle, they might have realized they were being set up and could have worked together, but their difficulties with trust after perceived betrayal made that impossible for them. They both have a history of overlooking red flags in the present–DFS in particular, keeping the red-flag-personified-JLQ around despite her history of poisoning people, including himself–and they both tend to struggle with relationships in the present: LLH runs away from and/or drugs the people who care about him, and DFS sends endless mixed messages by not telling Li Lianhua most of his plans to help him. 

Self-Concept (Self-hatred and self-fragmentation): Li Lianhua is basically the poster child for having a negative self concept: he has an overdeveloped sense of self-blame and responsibility, even believing he deserves to die for leading his men to their deaths, and once he learns he was manipulated and SGD was behind it all, he seems to think it’s his own fault that he was manipulated, lied to, and abused. His self-loathing is so extreme that he imagines his earlier self, Li Xiangyi, to have died, and tries as much as possible to be nothing like that earlier persona. His repeated insistence that Li Xiangyi and Li Lianhua are NOT the same person is reminiscent of the fragmentary sense of self that comes with more extreme trauma, like Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) or Other-Specified Dissociative Disorder (OSDD), where traumatic experiences are so painful that people form different alters, or differentiated self-states, that can have different names and skills and memories and identities. 

Di Feisheng doesn’t have the self-hatred or guilt that LLH does, and it seems like he tries to skip over questions of self worth, blame, or hatred by focusing exclusively on staying true to his code of ethics he’s developed for himself and focusing on gaining the strength necessary to fight for his freedom from mind control and the Di Fortress. But even though he’s kept his Di name, kept his goals the same since escaping Di Fortress, and hasn’t tried to separate himself from his trauma the way LLH did with LXY, he’s even more willing than LLH to take on different identities: it’s literally one of his martial arts skills. The Bone Constriction Skill lets him become someone else for a time, whether that’s a child or Shi Hun. It fits well with his willingness to be whoever he needs to be to accomplish his goals: he’s perfectly willing to be seen as a heartless villain if it lets him protect LLH, and he’s willing to flirt with and pretend to be jealous of JLQ to get information from her, and he’s willing to be LLH’s a-Fei, both with and without his memories.

Interruptions in Consciousness (Amnesia and nightmares for Everyone): LLH and DFS both have nightmares and flashbacks/memories of traumatic events, and as mentioned above, both have interesting hints of having fragmented/fluid senses of self. They both also dissociate, or separate themselves from the present when dealing with traumatic things:  LLH spaces out and gets stuck in his past memories about SGD when talking to FDB after burying SGD, and DFS dissociates from physical pain so as not to make noise both after he’s been stabbed and poisoned with Wuxin Huai and again when JLQ is torturing him in her water dungeon.

They both also have dissociative amnesia that takes away trauma memories, although one is from a poisonous incense plus the magic of qi macgyvering:  LLH forgot the existence of his older brother who died in front of him, and DFS as a-Fei had just about all of his memories (except a few of killing as a child) taken away. Amnesia is a huge part of cPTSD, because it’s the brain’s way of trying to protect you from truths that you might not survive. It can manifest as blocking out one single traumatic event, a bunch of thematically or temporally linked traumatic events, a skill set related to the trauma, or, in the case of something like DID or OSDD, just about everything. It’s endlessly fascinating to me that the show gives us one example of definite traumatic amnesia through LLH, and then seems to almost transform the experience of having DID and being a new part and finding yourself with a new name and very little else into an exaggerated fantasy setting (interestingly, people often report experiencing debilitating headaches when they try to regain memories behind the amnesia barrier). I doubt this is what they were actually going for, since DID is almost universally portrayed incorrectly and offensively in media (one of the alters is almost always portrayed as a serial killer, but that’s a rant for another day), but the different names and the presence of amnesia with LLH made it a fascinating enough parallel that I had to mention it.

 Problems with Emotional Regulation (Lashing in vs. lashing out): Li Xiangyi and Di Feisheng are polar opposites when it comes to struggles with emotional regulation: whereas LXY turns his anger inward, directing it all toward self-hate in what’s often called a “toxic shame spiral,” both after the donghai battle and after he finds out about SGD’s role in his shifu’s death, DFS lashes out physically at those who have harmed him, usually via choking people, although he is usually exerting an impressive amount of control over his emotions and strength. To put in perspective just how different their emotional strategies are and how much effort DFS puts into emotional regulation, compare how much more calm he is than LLH during any revelation of past betrayal or painful information, any scene where they confront the people who have abused them, or any scene where they learn they’ve been wrong about something big; LLH is most likely having an emotional flashback (re-experiencing the emotions from the earlier traumas) and DFS is probably compartmentalizing them or dissociating from them to process later/never so he can stay semi-functional and not show a potential opponent a weak spot. 

NOTE: This means that DFS is loooong overdue for a very dramatic breakdown when it eventually all catches up to him and he can’t distract himself from it anymore.

Perceptions of Perpetrators: In this way only, Di Feisheng has one advantage: he knows the head of Di Fortress is a cruel, abusive tyrant. While he clearly still fears him, even as a physically strong adult (he has nightmares, flashbacks, and dedicates his life to being free from him, which means he still to some extent feels young, small, and helpless when he thinks of him), DFS knows that he hates him and wants to be free of him. This is probably part of why he’s spared some of the self-hatred LLH experiences: he knows he didn’t deserve the abuse because seeing it happen to other children means he knows the abuse wasn’t a personal reflection on him. It does, however, motivate him to want to be stronger and invulnerable so as to never be helpless again, and that obsession is what drives him to have a single-minded focus on reaching the pinnacle of the jianghu.  

It’s so much more complicated for Li Lianhua (and for a more detailed analysis, check out this meta): the childhood perpetrators were manifold–a slew of bandits, whichever children and adults on the street would abuse him for existing and being poor–it probably felt like life itself was to blame. It’s no wonder that when his shifu and shiniang took him in, they were the ultimate rescuers whom he hero-worshipped, so when he felt he made a mistake and his life fell apart, he blamed himself: at least there would be someone to blame that way and something he could do about it (try to kill his past self and hate everything about him). It’s also very telling that LLH doesn’t blame JLQ or YBQ all that much when he learns they poisoned him, and that he’s more angry that SGD murdered their shifu than he is that SGD set him up, hated him, and was the real mastermind behind everything he had blamed himself for; he struggles to stay angry at people who harm him, and would rather blame and hate himself for being tricked than hate the person who tricked him. So, whereas DFS tries to destroy the people who abused him, LLH tries to destroy himself.

If you read this far, thanks! I’m probably going to be posting the DFS and emotional regulation/violence against perpetrator meta next, because it’s drafted, but if there are any of these you desperately want me to talk about more sooner rather than later, let me know! :D 

[learnelle]

Do you ever just get so tired and end up writing secononondly, unsure why it looks a lil off 👁👁

[tilbageidanmark]

A NEW MANIFESTO NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN: The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles.

There are only 2,700 of them, and 8+ billion of us. The math is simple, and so is the solution.

A spectre is haunting the world — the spectre of extinction. All the powers of elites have entered into a holy alliance to accelerate this spectre: The billionaires and millionaires, the American hyper-capitalists and the Russian oligarchs, the military industrial complex and white supremacists. The old Nazis are the new fascists.

It's high time to start a new liberation movement, French Revolution 2.0. For the children's sake, for the future of this dying planet - and before it's too late.

#2700 billionaires

[exotic-indians]

[gorgynei]

ive been bit by the fanfic bug this is so weird. i feel like my brain has been rewired. you mean i can just put these guys in situations? of my own making? and write them out at length? interesting

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

C.B. Colby - The Weirdest People In The World (Stories Selected from) - Scholastic Book Services - 1974

[blueiscoool]

2,700-Year-Old Urartu bronze Shields and Helmet Discovered in Turkey

Three bronze shields and a bronze helmet dedicated to Haldi, the chief god of the Urartians, were discovered during excavations at the Ayanis Castle in Van province in eastern Türkiye.

The discovery was announced on the social media account of Mehmet Nuri Ersoy, Minister of Culture and Tourism.

Ayanis Castle was built on a rocky hill close to Ağartı village whose old name was “Ayanis” and situated on the east bank of Lake Van, 38 km east of the capital Tuşpa.

Ayanis Castle, where the temple of Haldi, one of the most intact Urartian temples, is located, was built by the last great King of Urartu, Rusa II, in the mid-7th century BC. Written evidence shows that the fortress was destroyed by a major earthquake and associated fires 20 to 25 years after its construction.

In the Ayanis Castle, known to be the last castle of the Urartu Kingdom, the archeological excavations are ongoing since 1989. The excavations were conducted under the presidency of Prof. Dr. Altan Çilingiroğlu within the scope of Ege University “Van Project” until 2012. The studies are rendered by Prof. Dr. Mehmet Işıklı, associate in the Archeology Department, Literature Faculty, Atatürk University since 2013.

For the last few seasons, the excavation team has been trying to uncover the structures associated with the Haldi Temple in the citadel. In the 2024 excavation season, three bronze shields and a bronze helmet dedicated to Haldi, the chief god of the Urartians, were unearthed. The artifacts found during the excavations in the monumental temple complex dedicated to the god Haldi reflect the richness of Urartian metalwork.

Prof. Dr. Mehmet Işıklı said in his statement, ‘In this year’s excavations, we unearthed 3 bronze shields and 1 helmet, which were found in very good condition. The shields and helmet are dedicated to Haldi, the chief god and god of war. As you know, Ayanis Castle suffered a great earthquake. Because of this earthquake, there is a big collapse caused by the mudbrick walls. many artifacts are deformed because of this. but the artefacts found are in very good condition because they were found on the floor of the room at a depth of about 6-7 meters. Of course, we have some minor fractures and we will complete these with restoration and conservation.’

“There is also a bronze helmet among the artifacts found. We guess that it is a decorated and ceremonial helmet. Because we can see some decorations now, of course, it will be possible to see these ornaments and decorations more clearly after a comprehensive restoration and conservation,” he added.

Professor Işıklı stated that there is strong evidence that the site was used by a royal and religious elite group. After 36 years of excavations, the Ayanis fortress has yielded a rich collection of bronze artifacts, especially bronze weapons. To date, more than 30 bronze shields have been unearthed during the excavations of the castle.

By Leman Altuntaş.

[adachimoe]

Adachi's imaginary dick waving contest with Namatame

This is a revised version of a post I wrote very during the infancy of this blog. It is being split into smaller posts.

...I didn't intend to leave the name "Adachi's imaginary dick waving contest" but it was my one sentence draft and it stuck.

On a previous post, I talked about Adachi being the figure who shows up in the fog in the Central Shopping District on the dungeon deadlines, and how the dates he appears compared to when the first threatening letter shows up at the Dojima house would indicate that his claim about "watching an epic game of cat and mouse between the Investigation Team and Namatame" was bullshit. Chronologically impossible bullshit.

I propose that, instead of this, he was actually trying to screw over Namatame and ruin that dude's life.

Adachi's behaviors before the reveal

Aside from how Adachi is presented as not being wholly truthful during the December 7th dialogue, I think it's also worth pointing out that something doesn't add up about his "cat and mouse" claim when you look at his other behaviors.

After Mitsuo is rescued and brought into police custody, Adachi will appear at the Dojima house and bring up the possibility that the killer is still out there. He even does this again when Naoto turns up.

If you know he's the actual culprit, this might make it seem like he's taunting the player. I have also read an interpretation that he says these things because he wants to be caught, which from my understanding is based on the psychology of real world serial killers.

But while people bring these lines up, they fail to notice how after Namatame comes into the picture, Naoto finds Namatame's journal, reads out that Mayumi and Saki's addresses are in Namatame's journal, and then Adachi says, "that settles it".

If Adachi wants to be caught, why is he saying, "That settles it" in response to his murder victims addresses being in Namatame's journal?

He's even shown taking Namatame's case so seriously that Dojima thinks it's out of character for him as Adachi has been consistently characterized as a slacker up until now:

Furthermore, Namatame's transfer was foreshadowed. And if you follow the scenes, he was transferred because of the IT. In fact, the IT even knew about the transfer, they just didn't realize it.

On December 3rd, after the IT become the Seekers of Truth, they go outside Namatame's hospital room and talk about everything he just said. The IT are starting to believe that Namatame didn't do it, and Adachi overhears their entire conversation.

The IT returns on December 4th to question Namatame, and on their way out, an officer reveals that they are preparing to transfer Namatame. We know from December 5th that it's Adachi who orders the transfer, and it comes up on December 4th, the day after Adachi overhears the IT talking about Namatame not actually being the murderer. Hmm. What a coincidence.

I don't think anything with how Adachi approaches Namatame's hospital stay suggests "Adachi was trying to get caught" or "Adachi was trying to facilitate a game of cat and mouse" or even that "Adachi was bored and doing a little silly". The "game" of cat and mouse would be over at this point -- even if Namatame gets freed, why the hell would he go back to abducting people into TVs? Especially now that other people are aware of his actions?

Asking the "why"

At this point, I think it's worthwhile to start ask a bunch of obnoxious questions.

We know that Adachi is the real murderer, we know he nudged Namatame to go kidnap people under the guise of "saving" them, we know he put Kubo into the TV himself, and we know he sent the threatening letters. But for what reason?

If he's merely trying to get away with murder, why would Adachi throw Mitsuo into a TV to begin with instead of just letting him take the fall? Why, in the scenes discussed in the last part, is he openly talking about it being someone other than Mitsuo? Again, we can infer from his response to Namatame's journal that he is not trying to get himself caught.

We know he claims that he's watching a game between Namatame and the Investigation Team to alleviate his boredom. But if that's so, then why does he send the threatening letters to the Dojima house at all? People in the fandom explain this as him trying to rile up the Investigation Team. If he's understood what's been going on since the start and he was merely trying to rile them up, why does he wait to do so until after Naoto's dungeon? Wouldn't the time to rile them up be after they bring in Kubo, when they think they've won and think the case is over...?

I have also seen people explain this as, "Adachi just wanted to see more dead bodies". If Adachi wanted to see a dead body so badly, why not go chuck someone else into a TV himself? The only person he was willing to do this to, beyond his first two murders, was Mitsuo. And only after Mitsuo turned himself in, claiming to be the murderer. Not even in the bad endings where the calendar skips to March 20th does Adachi throw another body into the TV.

Furthermore, why does Adachi only shut up about a "real murderer" being out there after Namatame is captured, and rush to get Namatame relocated after people start asking him questions and figuring out he might not actually be the murderer?

Adachi claims to be bored, did it cause he could, watching a game unfold between Namatame and the IT. But doesn't Adachi's amusement go away if Namatame is jailed or dies and quits "saving" people?

Adachi's timeline leading up to December 5th, and how "Fuck Namatame" explains a lot of his actions

I think assuming that Adachi is being driven by a Namatame Hate Boner of sorts fills in a lot of the gaps and why he does and says certain things.

At the start, it's the part that's straightforward: Adachi kills Mayumi and Saki, takes Namatame's phone call, and recommends he "save" people.

Adachi says on April 17th that he knows people show up on fog nights. He then shows up on the April dungeon deadline expecting a body because he had told Namatame to go put a person in a TV. There is no body, and he goes "..." in the fog. Maybe Namatame got cold feet? Repeat for Kanji. There's no dead body. In the fog, Adachi asks, "Again?"

The police find Morooka's body. After two fog nights where no body appeared, Adachi thinks Namatame has finally killed someone. But Kubo turns himself in. This is not who Adachi wants to get arrested for the murders, so he gets rid of Kubo by throwing him into a TV.

The Investigation Team rescue Kubo and show Adachi that someone can be rescued from the TV. Chie makes a point of saying Adachi was there when they handed over Kubo, so Adachi both knows that Kubo is out of the TV, and that the IT might be related.

After Kubo is rescued, the police are going through with the investigation, but Adachi says, "Gee it sure would suck IF THE REAL KILLER WAS STILL OUT THERE..." because the guy he wants to get arrested, didn't get arrested.

Then Naoto goes missing. When Naoto returns, Adachi once more brings up the "real murderer" thing again when he's at the Dojima house. As Kubo's investigation carries on, it starts becoming obvious to the police that Kubo only killed Morooka, which Adachi also brings up during this convo.

On Naoto's deadline, Adachi appears in the shopping district at night. This time he says, "Dammit. Again?!" Last time, the IT showed him that a person *can* come out of the TV. Hmm... Kubo came out of the TV, and there's no body again this time... Is it possible that... Bodies have been going in... But coming out... This whole time...? :mind_blown_emoji:

The next fog night is coming up on November 20th. Adachi wants Namatame to produce a body, and he has guessed the IT are why he has failed to produce one yet. Adachi sends the threatening letters to the protagonist on October 20th and November 5th, hoping it will make you back off so Namatame can finally kill someone.

I imagine his game plan from April to November was to somehow get Namatame to kill someone, then get him arrested from this; perhaps a situation he thought he'd be able to manipulate on the police side if he knew who did it.

Later on November 5th, the Investigation Team all gather in the interrogation room and, in front of Adachi, explain that Namatame must have been abducting all of them with his delivery truck.

Naoto reads Namatame's diary which fortunately had both Mayumi and Saki's addresses in it. At this point, Adachi must think he's in the clear, and he goes, "That settles it". Everyone thinks Namatame did it and it's looking like he'll take the fall for Adachi's murders because of the addresses in the notebook.

At this point, I think Adachi began trying to get Namatame convicted for the murders of Mayumi and Saki. The notebook was a huge boon.

On November 21st, Adachi tells the IT that they can visit Nanako at the hospital. But before he leaves, he also tells them that they've been looking into Namatame, and he says, hey guess what? Namatame had been hitting on Saki. We know later that Namatame didn't actually do that, but Adachi is trying to keep up the narrative about Namatame.

On December 3rd, Adachi tells the IT he isn't sure if the charges against Namatame will stick, once again trying to keep up the narrative. When you think about it, even if Namatame were to die that night, it'd be assumed that he is the Inaba Serial Killer, and the truth about Adachi would never come to light. It almost works, even, but the protagonist gets everyone to calm down. Later on December 3rd, Adachi overhears the IT outside of Namatame's room and realizes they're starting to figure it out.

On December 4th, after the IT finish talking to Namatame, a uniformed police officer enters the room, tells them to get out, and says that Namatame is being prepared for transport. Meaning after realizing that the IT are still investigating after overhearing them on the 3rd, Adachi quickly organized Namatame's transfer before they can ask him more questions and figure something out.

And lastly, in the bad endings, where time skips from December to March, no more bodies have appeared because either Namatame is dead or on trial with people assuming he murdered Mayumi and Saki. If another dead body shows up, then it will call into question if Namatame is really the murderer.

But why Namatame?

Tbqh I think he was just jealous of Namatame's rizz.

Mayumi's death is portrayed as an accident. Adachi knew he could touch a TV, but he had no idea a whole body could go in, and threw up when he saw her corpse. Saki's death was 100% him being a power tripping asshole, having learned what happens with Mayumi. And both of these women, his victims, had someone in common: Namatame.

While this is not shown directly in the game, we can infer from context that Adachi saw Mayumi on the Midnight Channel at some point. And we know from Namatame's flashback that Mayumi did appear on there. What's more is that the rumor about the Midnight Channel was that you see your soulmate.

It seems likely that Adachi, new to Inaba and depressed / lonely / sad boi mode after being transferred, heard about the Midnight Channel (probably from Izanami), watched it, and saw Mayumi. What he didn't know was that everyone saw Mayumi - she was on people's minds because of her scandal. But he got something of a teenage girl hyperfixation on this real woman, thinking it was meant to be. And when he gets a chance to meet her, he does not react well to her and Namatame actually being an item.

Then, he goes after Saki, but he only targets her because of Namatame. He's shown in a flashback trying to force himself on her while mentioning that he saw her this afternoon with Namatame. She stands her ground and slaps him away, and he makes a face while saying that being with him is no-good but being Namatame is fine, huh?

Finally, Namatame himself calls the police and says he saw Mayumi and Saki on the Midnight Channel, they both turned up dead, and now he sees another girl.

I think Adachi's real game began here with this phone call. He's the real killer and he knows that people in the TV die and turn up on foggy nights. By telling Namatame to put them "somewhere safe", he is trying to get Namatame to accidentally kill someone.

And it's not just the Mayumi and Saki stuff. I think there are a couple other reasons why Adachi might be bitter about Namatame...

First, magic powers. What's unclear about the phone call scene is if Namatame told Adachi about Magic TV Powers. Namatame knew he could touch the TV because he did it when he saw Mayumi on the Midnight Channel. The game seems to have left this intentionally vague since the phone call only begins after Namatame has already explained everything to Adachi, but I think Namatame did say something about it. Adachi knew at the time that a whole body could go inside, and something about what Namatame said might have prompted Adachi to suggest Namatame put people where no one can find them.

Why does this matter? Well, Adachi seems to like his Special Power. How do you think he felt when he found out that he isn't very special, and that it sounds like Namatame can do the same thing?

The next one is related to something I wrote the other day about how Adachi's views towards having a government job might a product of the economic clusterfuck of 1990s Japan. Further down in the post, I went into each of the Investigation Team members, and how Chie is probably the only person who would be able to relate to Adachi in any form. Everyone else is either already famous, or, if their careers fail, they have their families to back them up.

But this doesn't just apply to the Investigation Team. Namatame is a government employee who loses his job due to the scandal... And yet he's still chuggin' along. He moves back home, and he gets a job working under his parents as a delivery driver. Adachi, to our knowledge, doesn't have something to fall back on or inherit from his parents if he loses this job. (I think this is implied by how his parents hounded him to study and sent him to college prep.) Not only did Namatame take his soulmate, but this fucker wasn't even completely ruined.

You can see his actions as like... He's trying to get Namatame to kill someone, he's trying to get Namatame framed for his own murders, he's trying to get the Investigation Team to kill Namatame. Adachi doesn't talk about Namatame much, honestly, but wowie I get the feeling that he really fucking hates this guy. Adachi is just so, so hilariously pathetic here. Like he thinks Namatame cucked him, so he's simultaneously comparing himself with Namatame and trying to ruin his life. Jesus dude.

tl;dr

I think Adachi has a raging hate boner for Namatame, spawning from him being Mayumi's boyfriend and his assumption that Saki was with Namatame

Namatame also having TV powers and Namatame being able to fall back on his parents probably added to the fuel

A lot of Adachi's actions seem to form a coherent timeline if you assume he was trying to get Namatame to kill someone at first, then later tries to get Namatame convicted for his own crimes after the diary is found

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”