#Even though it's not unusual for people in his culture to have multiple partners

[evilfloralfoolery]

Characters over here making shit complicated. As per the usual lol.

[chyuans]

          hello , hello  !   first of all ,  i’m super excited to be here even if i’m like 10 hrs LATE  ( gmt timezone things )  i’m noe ,  a gay  they / them at the age of 19 ,  and this privileged lil disappointment of a jock boy is gonna be filling the position of kong_01 . despite the rumours ?  yuanjun���s actually not nearly as bad as some of the people he’ll be meeting here >:)  but you’ll get to know more about that below  !  if you’d like to plot just light up that HEART , or add me on disc*rd which i’ll give out in im’s , where i’m infinitely faster .  if i’m not gaming .  no tw’s under the cut  .

* backstory. > many people know of yuanjun, but few people truly know him. he's the famous kong families’ son, heir to the kong legacy, now forward position for south korea men’s national hockey team - which brought forth a ton of international fame from back home and amongst hockey lovers worldwide. while his talent is undeniable, he is long overshadowed by his families’ accomplishments, forever reminded that he’d never be the perfect son they’d hoped for, and no one ever lets him forget it.

> being the child of business tycoons who’s art business seemed to never be on the decline, tended to lend itself to an unconventional, pretty lonely childhood. 

> although jun no longer wants to dabble in the stupid shit he probably did as a teen, and escape from their home in a childish fit of rage and make the lives of the various nannies that tended to him while his parents were off being great hell, he still wonders sometimes whether this profession is what he would’ve wanted if he’d just not wanted to spite his parents. he loves hockey - that fact is undeniable. he thanks the nanny who took him there once out of necessity to stop his whining, and he fell in love with it almost instantly. but he also questions whether he gravitated to it because it was something he could throw himself into wholeheartedly to fill a void.

> he's very open to different types of people, and after being scouted at 19 and having a massive shift both in culture and identity as he then begun to travel worldwide, he’s a tiny bit more wordly now than he was back then. he's much more concerned about who you are underneath than superficial appearances, which means developing relationships are few and far between, because a lot of people do approach him because of his fame/fortune. he's unjudgemental to the point where his friends worry about his naivety and how easily he trusts people, but he's absolutely not dumb, just very well versed on telling good people from the bad.

> jun may even come across as naïve, but he's very aware of that perception is nearly important as reality. he's not extroverted in a way that demands conversation, but he knows how to talk to anyone from any background even if its just to maintain pleasantries. after competing in various competitions and versing players from canada to japan, he's become much more sharp and ambitious, a guy who very rarely lets distractions take their course. perhaps it’s with this that his family loathe his choices all the more, with his appetite, he was born with the skills required to run a business - pity he never took to anything of the creative sort.  

> working in a fast, stressful, highly coveted job such as pro-sports is a full time job and then some; jun doesn't spend much time not working on it. outside of his schedule, he likes bettering his stamina at the gym and eating healthy. he likes being surrounded by authentic people or nobody at all. he’s not one for trying new things and having new experiences due to time management, tending to stick to a schedule.

> he gets a lot of bad press though, which is beginning to weigh a little heavy on him. doubly now the murder has people talking. from being accused of performance-enhancing pills, various personality scandals, to being linked with ‘dating’ (see: ruining the image of) idols and chaebol’s alike. right now, he’s currently battling a lot of unwanted publicity because of a misunderstood interaction online against a wealthy sweetheart that went sour. 

> while jun might be generally unsympathetic and analytical when it comes to developing relationships with people that’ll last long-term, he's a bleeding heart when it comes to kids who may have experienced the same lonely upbringing as he did, without the financial gains. right now he spends sunday’s teaching a bunch of local foster home kids how to skate, and is trying to fund a couple of sports scholarships for those who show promise under a fake name, just generally being a good ‘ole guy.

> his family do not approve of his job, ofc. in fact neither of his parents have ever attended any of his matches to this day, and are only on semi-decent terms with him because jun begrudgingly is still tied by name to the business and shows his face at events for all of 30 minutes until he physically can no longer maintain pleasantries. his celebrity image perhaps is one thing they can manipulate, and even then, jun could get into scandals galore and still be doing his job. good press, bad press, it has the kong’s family name at the forefront of peoples’ minds, which always brings forth revenue.  

> pros: could be a lot worse considering his upbringing, collected, and level-headed most of the time. wicked good at sports, and keeps a cool head in a tough situation. ambitious, curious, a little reckless. eager to prove himself, rich? and very endeared to people/places he finds fascinating. which are many. knows where the good, authentic chinese cuisine is. hardworking and very interested in the idea of Progress.

> cons: the most private person alive, will not divulge any palatable information about himself or his feelings. devil's advocate always. will put himself and others at an arm’s length the second he feels (disgusted noises) e-emotions (love, namely). gets bored easily. paranoid, leads with the head more than the heart. friends > > > family. a little self-involved, never fucking sleeps - will be that neighbour you can hear padding around above your apartment at 3.05 am like it’s mid-day, aaaaand Loves Winning Above All Else

* personality & relationships.

> like many others, jun has his fair share of surface-level friends. he’s quick to be interested in people, to get to know them better, but it's difficult for him to get closer than that after a childhood of being picked up and dropped by those who looked over him - which kinda has left him with abandonment issues.

> he’s a curator of neat things that aren’t too overtly complex, and that includes friendships. so if you have something unusual about you, whether it's a talent or a way of thinking, he would be inclined to get to know you better. also, he has a lot of leverage with his job. being friends with a sports star slash million dollar trust fund baby who can get you free shit never hurts, just don’t befriend him for the perks, yanno?

> jun is very dedicated to his vision of things, and can sometimes be very obstinate in the way he a) wants them to be done b) doesn't accept other options, think steve jobs. he's very mercurial and can be nice one minute but isn't afraid to switch to hardass boss to get things done and did.  > he is insanely competitive and his strive is drawn out by always wanting to be on top. truly first child material. that's the kind of guy he is, with standards that do not reflect his passive side too well, which sometimes can get him into some “personality” scandals. he is driven, motivated, always looking for ways to be winning.

> i'm sure someone is bound to hate him, he’s probably got a few accounts online dedicated to a steady stream of shit-talking, given his cutthroat status or holding many hockey cups.

> jun doesn’t think too much about his sexuality - he'd probably best be labelled as pan, but leans towards those who identify as women? because of his current placement in a workspace, and with a cultural identity, that both don’t often lend themselves to lgbtq+ rights, i doubt he’d ever make that public.

> he works amongst some of the fittest people in the world, he knows how to appreciate beautiful bodies, but he's not about to discriminate. he's tragically a committaphobe and isn't interested in anything long-term right now, although i think it'd be funny if someone tried. he's very open for flings and one-night stands and even a friends with benefits sort of set up. 

* wc’s.  >  bring me his baby bro and sis. i command u. i have many thoughts  >  somebody who maybe gets in on his foster-kid situation? idk maybe they have a perception of jun being what he is in the articles they read of him, but they see him and are like <3_<3 he actually real Nice huh. i see this being romantic but it could bloom a really nice, wholesome friendship too. >  enemies. not gonna lie, he doesn’t vibe with rich kids w / a stick up their ass, especially since a lot of the people he works with aren’t from exorbitant families. people who loathe him for declining to take over his families’ business? like the boy can’t even name more than 3 artists off of the top of his head?   > fwb except neither of them know what “just friends” mean.  > i would love if jun had a confidante. a best friend, a partner in crime, a total bromance 'cause i can never get enough of those. whatever label you ‘wanna put on it. wiping up each other’s messes. maybe a Betrayal in the works  > again, gonna be a wc, but i would love a “rival” of jun's on a similar level (or bigger)  that’s entirely fabricated based off of trashy articles or a misunderstood interaction online. bonus points if they’re an absolute sweetheart, well loved by most people, and generally the antithesis of jun with his multiple drug/personality rumours, which in contrast, make him seem like the bad guy. 

> party buddy. this guy hasn’t touched alcohol/cigarettes/any other stimulants since he was underage and wanted to rebel. the word “relax” does not exist in his vocabulary. Help

[paralleljulieverse]

An Angel from Heaven Come to See Us: Darling Lili Turns 50

This week fifty years ago, Darling Lili -- the last of the big Julie Andrews screen musicals of the 1960s -- had its long-delayed World Premiere at Hollywood’s Cinerama Dome on 23 June 1970. 

The event marked the symbolic endpoint of a three-plus-year marathon in which the ill-fated production was beset by an endless stream of problems and delays from inclement weather and union pickets on location to studio takeovers and shady refinancing deals (Bart, 63-72; Dick, 146-48; Wasson, 146-48). This litany of setbacks saw the film’s already sizeable budget blowout to era-record levels estimated anywhere, depending on who you spoke to, between $14-25mill. (Warga, C-20; Wedman, 7-A; Kennedy, 175-77). Egos clashed, tempers frayed and recriminations flew with writer-director, Blake Edwards, blaming Paramount Pictures for imposing impossible demands, and studio executives firing back counter-accusations of reckless indulgence and profligacy (Oldham, 24-25; 44-45). 

That this highly publicised drama played out against the backdrop of the greatest economic downturn to hit Hollywood in half a century garnered Darling Lili an unenviable advance reputation as “the archetypal flop among big budget Hollywood productions” (Oldham, 44). “Rarely has so much bad word of mouth preceded a picture,” wrote the Saturday Review, “As the shooting schedule increased, as the costs mounted, everyone was certain that Darling Lili would prove to be a landmark disaster” (Knight 22). Another widely syndicated newspaper article dubbed it, “The Most Maligned Movie Ever,” prompting Blake Edwards to fume: “I’ve never known of an important picture in production so talked about, whispered about, and, yes, lied about as Darling Lili” (Manners, B5).

Adding fuel to widespread perceptions of the film as a legendary bomb in the making, the release of Darling Lili was held up for over a year by nervous studio execs. By 1969, Paramount had more big budget roadshow product in the pipelines than any other Hollywood studio (“Par’s Big”, 3). Panicked by the repeated failure of roadshow releases, in general, and the growing cultural backlash against big budgeted musicals, in particular, the studio feared they were “on the verge of an unprecedented financial disaster” and vacillated over how to proceed (Farber, 3). They ordered competing rounds of edits to the film, taking material out to secure a G-rating, then reinserting other material in an effort to broaden appeal (Manners, B5; “Par’s Lili Rated G”,5). There were even rumours the film might not get a release at all. It is “hiding somewhere” and seems to have “just evaporated” noted one newspaper report in late-1969 (Gussow, 62; Benchley, 9).

In December, Paramount finally held two sneak test screenings of Darling Lili in Oklahoma City and Kansas City which proved sufficiently positive for the studio to green-light release (“Kansas”, C2). After the test screenings, Robert Evans, production chief at Paramount and longtime vocal critic of Blake Edwards’s direction of the film, sounded an uncharacteristically upbeat note. “At the end of the film, there was a standing ovation,” he enthused, “and almost all the patrons stopped in the lobby to fill in comments cards...term[ing] Darling Lili as excellent, with special acclaim for both Julie Andrews and Rock Hudson” (Muir, 2-S). 

In January 1970, it was announced that Darling Lili would premiere that summer as a hardticket attraction at New York’s Radio City Music Hall (”Par Gets”, 3). The following month, a series of exhibitor previews was held in five major US cities but, in a telling sign the studio still harboured reservations about the film, the trade press was pointedly excluded from all advance screenings ("Not Ready”, 6). This same lingering disquiet resulted in a radically scaled back approach to the film’s release and marketing. 

Originally planned as a reserved-seat roadshow attraction, Darling Lili was ultimately repositioned by Paramount as part of what they called their “Big Summer Playoff,” a package of eight films given saturation releases during the summer off-season starting in June (“Paramount’s Summer Playoff”, 5). Only New York and Los Angeles would screen the film as a 70mm reserved-seat attraction; elsewhere, the plan was for the “pic to quickly saturate every major and minor market with single-house firstruns and key city multiples” (ibid.). In an era when studios typically gave their top films staggered releases and only ever issued B-product or second-runs widely during the quiet summer months, this new-style release strategy had a decided air of dump-it-and-run desperation. 

The apparent lack of care and finesse in the release of Lili did not go unnoticed. “Darling Lili undoubtedly rank[s] among the unusual summer attractions,” commented one newspaper article, “since one would expect to see th[is] multi-million dollar production around holiday time” (Sar, 4-B). Another bluntly opined that Paramount “seems to have dumped the expensive movie rather than spend any more on it” (Taylor, 21-E). Even Julie, normally the soul of diplomatic discretion in such matters, expressed public dismay at the studio’s handling of the film’s release:

“Three weeks before the opening, there was no advertising campaign. None whatsoever. Paramount didn’t seem to know how it was going to sell the picture--or if. I simply can’t understand an attitude like that” (Thomas, 13).

The sudden shift to a summer saturation release also meant the film’s premiere had to be rescheduled as New York’s Radio City Music Hall wasn’t available till July. In late-May, a matter of mere weeks before the film was set to bow, Paramount announced Darling Lili would now make its world premiere at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood on June 23 before rolling out nationwide the following day (“‘Darling Lili’ to Premiere,” W-2). The New York premiere, meanwhile, would remain at the Music Hall but delayed a full month after the rest of the country.

Putting on a brave face, Julie and Blake did their best to launch their film. On June 18, they attended a special press preview and celebrity reception hosted by Robert Evans and his then partner, Ali McGraw, at the Director’s Guild Theatre (Sar, 24-A). Dressed in a modish psychedelic Pucci pantsuit -- which fans of Julie-trivia will note was a recycled outfit from her recent NBC TV special with Harry Belafonte -- Julie looked relaxed and radiant or, as one columnist put it, “peachy dandy in her wild patterned party pants” (Browning, 2-13). At the after-show reception, she and Blake mingled warmly with a host of Tinseltown notables including Edward G. Robinson, James Garner, Walter Matthau, George Peppard, Raquel Welch, Sally Field, Dyan Cannon, and Peter Graves (ibid).

The following week, Julie and Blake were back for the premiere proper at the Cinerama Dome on 23 June. Dressed to kill in a sleek beaded cocktail gown, Julie posed for press shots on the red carpet with Blake, Robert Evans and Ali McGraw, and co-star Rock Hudson who attended with longtime friend and agent, Flo Allen. Sponsored by the Southern Californian chapter of VIMS, Volunteers in Multiple Sclerosis, the premiere attracted a capacity crowd with an invitation-only champagne supper held at the theatre after the screening (“Premiere”, IV-8) .

For all the old-school Hollywood trappings of the premiere, the American roll-out of Darling Lili was afforded little sense of showmanship or distinction. The Cinerama Dome would be the film’s only fully reserved-seat roadshow presentation (“’Darling Lili’s’ One Reserve,” 7). The film’s run at New York’s Radio City Music Hall -- which will likely be the subject of another post next month, time permitting -- was another exception but it had a hybrid mix of partial reserved and general admission. Elsewhere, the film was released in what could only be described as a woefully slipshod manner. 

The day after the World Premiere, Lili was issued simultaneously to an idiosyncratic assortment of theatres and even drive-ins across the United States including such out-of-the-way places as Lubbock, Texas; Hattiesburg, Mississippi; and Mason City, Iowa. Conversely, several major metropolitan markets didn’t get the film till much later, and some didn’t show it at all. When the film ran it was often booked for a flying season of a week or two -- in some instances, just a few days -- and given little promotion or build-up.

On a PR trip to San Francisco, Blake Edwards was reportedly incensed to discover that Lili was being shown at a local theatre on a double-bill with The Lawyer, an R-rated crime drama (Caen, 6-B). But this was far from an isolated instance. A survey of newspaper advertising from the era shows that, throughout this initial release period, Darling Lili was widely double-billed in US theatres with a range of questionable screen-mates including Downhill Racer, True Grit, Norwood, The Sterile Cuckoo, and Lady in Cement to name a few.

Much like the film’s chequered release pattern, reviews of Darling Lili were sharply mixed. Contrary to the apocalyptic predictions, though, there were surprisingly few outright pans and quite a number of good, even glowing, notices--certainly enough to furnish choice grabs for newspaper ads. Moreover, a common refrain among even lukewarm crits was that the film was far from the disaster everyone anticipated:

“Darling Lili [is] the musical comedy a lot of people have been expecting to be a bomb, but which turns out to be a quite likeable movie” (Crittenden, D-10).

“When a movie becomes notorious like this, everyone expects it to be an unredeeming dud...I’m relieved to say Darling Lili is certainly nobody’s bomb” (Stewart, 28) 

“[E]veryone was certain that Darling Lili would prove to be a landmark disaster. Happily, the opposite seems to be the case...it is definitely, joyously, what the industry likes to call an ‘audience picture’ (Knight, 22).

While many reviewers found aspects of the film wanting, they were mostly full of praise for Julie:

“Miss Andrews has, I think, never looked better, warmer or more emotionally mature, nor has she sounded better. The irony is that she projects a richness which is wasted here. It’s like getting Horowitz to play Chopsticks” (Champlin, IV-1).

“Andrews...is one of the last of the great English music-hallmarks. She can sing effortlessly, make a mug or a moue with equal facility, throw away a line and reel it back in with the best—when she is given half a chance. Her latest, Darling Lili, is only a quarter of a chance (Kanfer, 78). 

“In Darling Lili...Julie Andrews is the most pleasant actress any audience ever had and that’s what counts...The picture’s weaknesses are Hudson and the war...But I think Julie Andrews is enough” (Geurink, 6-T).

“The best way to enjoy Darling Lili is to look upon it as escape fare [with] Miss Andrews’ golden voice for listening pleasure...While she deserves something much better than her role in Darling Lili, Julie Andrews...is still an out and out professional” (Blakley, 6-1).

“Miss Andrews...is absolutely perfectly suited to the title role. Her voice, her mannerisms, her beauty and her obvious delight with the entire project pay off in one of the finest performances of her career” (Fanning, 17).

“The film’s bright moments belong to Miss Andrews. She is a complete entertainer, and tho [sic] she is center stage for nearly the entire film, one never tires of her pure voice and intelligent acting” (Siskel, 12).

Alas, the better-than-expected reviews were not enough to save Darling Lili commercially. By the end of its domestic run, the film had earned a meagre $3.2mill in rentals, placing it 37th in Variety’s list of annual box-office rankings for 1970 (“US Films,” 184). Instructively, the film posted its best returns at the two theatres where it was exhibited with some modicum of prestige showmanship: the Cinerama Dome and Radio City Music Hall. In the case of the latter, Lili actually broke house records for a non-holiday release (“Radio City,” 12). Combined, these two venues accounted for over a third of the film’s entire North American boxoffice grosses. It’s a curious footnote to the whole sorry saga of Darling Lili which does suggest that, while the film would likely never have been a hit, it could certainly have done much better had its distribution and exhibition been more carefully managed. But that is a discussion for another time and another post...

Sources:

Bart, Peter. Infamous Players: A Tale of Movies, the Mob (and Sex). New York: Hachette, 2011.

Benchley, Peter. “1969 A Watershed Year for Motion Picture Industry.” Journal Gazette. 6 January 1970: 9.

Blakley, Thomas. “Julie Andrews Eyes a New Start.” Pittsburgh Press. 28 June 1970: 6-1.

Browning, Norma Lee. “Hollywood Today: Julie’s Reception.” Chicago Tribune. 22 June 1970: B-13.

Caen, Herb. “It’s News to Me.” Hartford Sentinel. 5 August 1970: 6-B.

Canby, Vincent. “Is Hollywood in Hot Water?” New York Times. 9 November 1969: D1, D37.

Champlin, Charles. “Movie Review: ‘Darling Lili’ Has World War I Setting.” Los Angeles Times. 24 June 1970: IV-1, 13.

Crittenden, John. “’Darling Lili’ Surprises by Being Very Pleasant.” The Record. 24 July 1970: D-10.

“’Darling Lili’ to Premiere in Hollywood June 24.” Boxoffice. 25 May 1970: W2.

“’Darling Lili’s’ One Reserve Seat Date.” Variety. 3 June 1970: 7.

Dick, Bernard F. Engulfed: The Death of Paramount Pictures and the Birth of Corporate Hollywood. Louisville, KY: University of Kentucky Press, 2015.

Fanning, Win. “The New Film: Andrews, Hudson in ‘Darling Lili’ at Squirrel Hill.” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. 25 June 1970: 17. 

Farber, Stephen. “End of the Road?” Film Quarterly. 23: 2. Winter 1969-70: 3-16.

Geurink, Bob. “Julie’s Pretty Darling in ‘Lili’.” Atlanta Constitution. 11 July 1970: 6-T.

Gussow, Mel. “Excitement Fills Premier of ‘Dolly’: But Air of Festivity Belies Future of Movie Musicals.” New York Times. 18 December 1969: 62.

Higham, Charles. “Turmoil in Film City.” Sydney Morning Herald - Weekend Magazine. 25 May 1969: 19.

Holston, Kim R. Movie Roadshows: A History and Filmography of Reserved-Seat Limited Showings, 1911-1973. Jefferson, NC: McFarlane and Co, 2013.

Kanfer, Stefan. “Cinema: Quarter Chance.” Time. 96: 4. 27 July 1970: 78.

“Kansas City.” Boxoffice. 22 December 1969: C2.

Knight, Arthur. “How Darling was My Lili.” Saturday Review. 18 July, 1970: 22.

Krämer, Peter. The New Hollywood: From Bonnie and Clyde to Star Wars. London: Wallflower, 2005.

Manners, Dorothy. “The Most Maligned Movie Ever.” San Francisco Examiner. 15 March 1970: B5.

Mills, James. “Why Should He Have it?” Life. 7 Match 1969: 63-76.

Muir, Florabel. “Hollywood: It Snowed Customers.” Daily News. 21 December 1969: 2S.

“Not Ready for Trades But Exhibs See ‘Lili’.” Variety. 28 January 1970: 6.

Oldham, Gabriella, ed. Blake Edwards: Interviews. Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2018.

“Par Gets Hall’s Summer Spot for its ‘Darling Lili’.” Variety. 21 January 1970: 3.

“Para. Sets Preview Series in Five Cities for ‘Lili’.” Boxoffice. 26 January 1970: 10.

“Paramount’s Summer Playoff Strategy: 5,000 Bookings for Eight Major Films.” Variety. 3 June 1970: 5.

“Par’s Big Roadshow Splash.” Variety. 25 June 1969: 3.

“Par’s Lili Rated G.” Variety. 24 September 1969: 5.

“Premiere.” Los Angeles Times. 25 June 1970: IV-8.

“Radio City Music Hall’s All-Time Boxoffice Darling.” Variety. 5 August 1970: 12.

Sar, Ali. “Paramount Unveils Two Top Pictures.” Van Nuys News. 21 June 1970: 24-A.

Sar, Ali. “Curiosity Films: Plagued Studios Hope.” Van Nuys News. 28 June 1970: 4-B.

Siskel, Gene. “The Movies: ‘Darling Lili’.” Chicago Tribune. 22 August 1970: 12.

Sloane, Leonard. “At Paramount, Real Financial Drama.” New York Times. 28 November 1969: 48.

Stewart, Perry. “Warm Kiss from ‘Lili’.” Fort-Worth Star-Telegram. 1 Juy 1970: 28.

Stuart, Byron. "Pictures: Big Budget’s Big Bust-Up." Variety. 23 July 1969: 3, 20.

Taylor, Robert. “‘Lili’ Can Be Charming.” Oakland Tribune. 27 June 1970: 21-E.

Thomas, Bob. “Julie Andrews Praises ‘Lili’.” Courier-News. 15 September 1970: 13.

“U.S. Films’ Share-of-Market Profile.” Variety. 12 May 1971: 36-38, 122, 171-174, 178-179, 182-183, 186-187, 190-191, 205-206.

Warga, Wayne. “Stanley Jaffe: Paramount Risk Jockey.” Los Angeles Times. 24 January 1971: C1, C20-21.

Wasson, Sam. A Splurch in the Kisser: The Movies of Blake Edwards. Middletown: Weslayan University Press, 2009.

Wedman, Les. “The End of the Roadshow.” Vancouver Sun. 9 January 1970: 7A.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2020

[whoisaditya]

A love letter to The Wombats

First, a brief background about The Wombats: The Wombats is an interesting English Indie Rock Band. They started back in 2003 in Liverpool, United Kingdom. The most interesting thing about them is how experimental they are with their albums — considering their vast range. One might think that The Wombats don’t care about what you and I think. They care about their art and what that represents. This is what makes them free to do whatever they want. Now, the album that I want to talk about is some of their earlier work. It was released back in 2007. Damn, that feels like an eternity ago. So let’s begin our journey.

The first track: Tales of Girls, Boys and Marsupials. For me, this track prepares you for what’s to come. It is a good melody and relatively simple. I’ve always enjoyed it because of how strange it is. From this, we move onto the second track.

Kill the Director. This is the song that brought me to the album, and for a long time, it was one of the most played songs for me on Spotify. When I think of this song, I think of the music video which you should watch. The song is different from the first track, and it is faster and has a lot of content. My favourite things are British pop culture references. The nods to Bridget Jones’s Diary and EastEnders make this a quintessentially British song.

Track 3: Moving to New York, this song has always been close to my heart because it is edgy. It tells us what the British think of American cities like New York. I have always had trouble understanding this song due to multiple reasons. Even right now while I’m reading the lyrics and thinking about what to write about them, I am confused. If you look at it literally, the song talks about sleeplessness and Christmas for some reason. Now, let me tell you what I feel about it. This has always been a song to which I headbang and do the air guitar. I never really understood the lyrics. I probably never will. Though, my favourite part has been these lines.

“I put one foot forward and ended up 30 yards back.

Am I losing touch, or am I just completely off the track?

And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud.

It’s therapeutic somehow.”

Especially the line, “Am I losing touch or am I just completely off track”. Back when I first heard this song, the pandemic was at its peak. I was preparing for entrances, and life was a mess. I related to this, and I’m sure you guys will as well. This song will make you feel things and reconsider life as a whole.

Now, moving onto track 4, Lost in the Post. This is the most popular song on the album. The song sounds surprisingly happy, but when you pay attention, the lyrics are depressing. It is my kind of music because it tells us a story with a catchy chorus. The line that has stuck with me is “She Wanted Mary Poppins but I took her to King Lear”. It represents so much more than you and I can comprehend. It represents not being enough and a theme of overcompensation followed by under-compensation. Its a simple song but the Wombats have done a good job of packing it with references. It is a song about insecurities and love, the two things that are fundamental to any artist.

Track 5: Party in a Forest(Where’s Laura?). Laura, oh, Laura. I will never truly understand this song. Is it a love letter to Laura or is it a desperate man singing for a girl who will never love him back? Throughout the song, he keeps calling out to Laura, but there’s no response. By the end of it, it seems like he has almost given up. Maybe I’m just reading too much into music, or perhaps this boy is writing songs about a gender he doesn’t understand.

Track 6 is something most of us can relate to. Titled “Schools Uniform”, it is literally from the perspective of a teenage boy going through puberty. It is not the typical “Oh. I miss school” song, but maybe a more realistic approach to what school was. Those uniforms, which most of us claim to miss, perhaps made a joke of us. He sings about a girl he likes and who he used to be friends with, but now she has an older boyfriend. The most important thing about this song is how teens romanticise/think that smoking is cool. It’s the whole trope of doing something because someone else is doing it. After all, someone has deemed it cool. The song does an excellent job of talking about how teenagers try their best to fit in to get the validation they so desperately want. This is generally executed by doing things that most of the time is not good for them, and here ends track 6.

Moving on to track 7, the song I’m most excited to write about. Here Comes the Anxiety is the epitome of a cry for help. It is probably the most painful to listen to because it doesn’t even hide that it is sad. I have to give it credit for being honest about its message. In a messed up way, this taught me how to be honest about myself. The song starts by calling out what I think is all music where creators hide the real message behind catchy hooks and other techniques. The essence of the song is hypocritical; it has a catchy hook line(It is literally in the title). The song is just lying to you; it tries to sell an honest image, but it is not. Don’t get me wrong, it is a good song, but it is just like everything else. It is a dark song like it claims to be. It is a song about a lonely man who doesn’t want to be alone, and that’s about it for track 7.

Let’s Dance to Joy Division is one of my favourite songs. So, I have a sort of personal bias towards it. It is happy and real but also quite sad. The lines

“Everything is going wrong but we’re so happy” perfectly captures the essence of this kind of music. It is happy music, so don’t question it. You don’t need to be comfortable while listening to it, maybe sing along and pretend that your life isn’t going to shit. My interpretation of this song is, you shouldn’t question life while it is happening. If something has to go wrong, it probably will, so why even worry about it. Just be happy and maybe play this on a loop.

Track 9 is Backfire at the Disco. It describes a heterosexual first date. A guy gets ready at 8 pm, meets the girl and then gets slapped. The story is pretty straightforward. The guy makes a move at the wrong time. The girl slaps him in response and has to go back home alone at 3 am. What’s important to me isn’t the story but how it’s told. The song starts with how everything is fine and how it is all going okay. It sounds like the girl is in the wrong and that we should feel bad for the guy. The song gets pretty misogynistic when he calls her dress whorish. To give him some credit, he does admit his mistake by the end, but then it is too late, and the narrative has been set. This victimisation of the perpetrator is extremely harmful. It creates a story that men don’t know what to do and how it is an honest mistake. This message is toxic, and anyone listening to this should keep this in mind.

Little Miss Pipedream describes a toxic one-sided relationship. The song is comparatively slower-paced, where the stress is on the lyrics. The song expects us to feel sympathy for this man who is madly in love with this girl. The protagonist is portrayed as a friendly guy who is willing to wait for this girl. This man has selfish ideas of love, and he’s trying to convince the listeners to sympathise with him. These ideas are selfish because they are all based around him. Lyrics like, “Don’t leave miss pipedream cause I love you.” is an example of what is incorrect with this song. Pop culture has often romanticised these ideas and portrayed these men as heroes.

Track 11 is about a therapist named Dr Susan. It is clear that Dr Susan is treating and is prescribing him narcotics. He is infatuated with her and is willing to do anything for her. This is clearly some toxic behaviour. The singer keeps repeating “This Time” which means that he has done this before. The most concerning thing is “Help Me Help Help Me, Susan”. We can see a theme where he asks for help but no one gives it to him and there ends track 11.

Track 12 is about loving a woman who doesn’t want to be loved. The singer has fallen in love with a stripper and is willing to do anything to be with her. His behaviour indicates that he has lost track of reality. In his head, his actions are part of a grander love story but it is psychotic behaviour. This is ironic cause the last song was about a therapist. He clearly knows what he is doing is wrong but he still continues to do so. This entire song does a good job of showing a messed up, toxic relationship between a desperate man and a stripper.

The story of Track 13 is set at the wedding of the protagonist’s ex-girlfriend. It does something unusual by portraying alcoholic tendencies at a wedding. The lyrics make it clear that he still has some feelings for his ex-girlfriend. I don’t know where the blame lies on this one because of the conflicting narratives. The repetition of the line, “She’s not that beautiful” shows us his hatred towards the bride and how our emotions are more complex than they seem. One would assume that after all this time he wouldn’t resent his old partner but he does. This is because humans are complicated and irrational and there’s nothing we can do about it. This also shows how when we are with someone everything seems romantic but when they leave we criticise all their actions. To conclude, the song is quite entertaining and definitely worth listening to.

If you have read this until now and not skimmed as most people will, you must be thinking that all these songs sound somewhat similar. It’s a simple boy loves girl plot which is portrayed in multiple different settings. Before I started writing this, I thought that I would have something unique to write about each song, but I don’t. As I moved on from track to track, I realised that most of these are about the same thing. Does this mean the songs are not great? No, of course not, they are amazing. Each track is unique and has a storyline, the music is good, and that’s why people enjoy it. Music is subjective, and at the end of the day, my opinion means jackshit. Yeah, enjoy the music; I hope what I wrote made you think and introspect about the music you listen to.

[aroworlds]

Fiction: The Pride Conspiracy, Part Two

December isn't the best time of year for a trans aromantic like Rowan Ross, although—unlike his relatives—his co-workers probably won't give him gift cards to women's clothing shops. How does he explain to cis people that while golf balls don't trigger his dysphoria, he wants to be seen as more than a masculine stereotype? Nonetheless, he thinks he has this teeth-gritted endurance thing figured out: cissexism means he needn't fear his relatives asking him about dating, and he has the perfect idea for Melanie in the office gift exchange. He can survive gifts and kin, right? Isn't playing along with expectation better than enduring unexpected consequences?

Rowan, however, isn't the only aromantic in the office planning to surprise a co-worker.

To survive the onslaught of ribbon and cellophane, Rowan's going to have to get comfortable with embracing the unknown.

Contains: A trans allo-frayro trying to grit his teeth through the holidays, scheming aro co-workers, a whole lot of cross-stitch, another moment of aromantic discovery, and many, many mugs.

Content Advisory: A story that focuses on some of the ways Western gift-giving culture enables cissexism and a rigid gender binary, taking place in the context of commercialised, secular-but-with-very-Christian-underpinnings Christmas. Please expect many references to said holiday in an office where Damien hasn't figured out how to run a gift exchange without subjecting everyone to Santa, along with characters who have work to do in recognising that not everybody celebrates Christmas.

There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual" and a passing reference to allo-aro antagonism, but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with and attitudes towards romance and romantic attraction as a frayromantic. Please also expect casual references to amatonormativity and other shapes of cissexism.

This section contains multiple depictions of platonic physical intimacy.

Length: 4, 789 words (part two of two).

I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!

On the last working day of the year, Rowan staggers into the office holding a plate of homemade shortbread—the top layer of plastic wrap bearing the Sharpie-written words “NOT FOR HOUSEMATES BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING BISCUITS”, his mood sour. On the one hand, he’s free until January (although he’ll prefer that circumstance more should this be a paid break). On the other hand, Christmas and its family awfulness tag-team with the heat to curse him with mind-racing, restless 4 AM wakefulness.

He chose right. Didn’t he?

In six days, he’ll have survived the family dinner and his housemates will be with their people or travelling for the holiday. He can bag up his presents for their customary donating, buy something online and spend the day baking food he doesn’t have to share or hide.

Christmas will be an exercise in endurance, but it’s a known terrible. Better to suffer one day of hell and leave than to poke the hydra in each of its eyes and allow it, enraged, to hunt him across the earth. Right?

“Rowan!” Melanie greets him at the door, today wearing a silky blouse with a poinsettia print, a pendant shaped like a miniature tree bauble, and stocking-shaped earrings of the heavy, dangly kind. A Santa hat trimmed with silver sequins and a large golden bell sits atop her short hair. “Merry Christmas!”

“Uh … back at you?”

“You didn’t wear anything Christmassy!” Melanie flutters her hands at him: she painted her glossy crimson nails with white and green stripes like the fancier sort of candy cane. “Can’t you get anything in your size?”

“No...” Rowan glances at his usual outfit: dress shoes, jeans black enough to resemble slacks on forgot-to-do-laundry days, navy shirt.  

Couldn’t he have worn his cherry-red Docs?  

Her suggestion gives him a convenient out, but isn’t he trying to be honest about his feelings? “I didn’t look. Christmas … isn’t that exciting when you’re enduring family.” He barks a laugh, hoping Melanie understands. “At least being trans, nobody asks me if I’m dating anyone or when I’m going to bring someone home to meet the family, because they don’t want to think about trans people in a relationship.” He steps sideways, hoping to navigate around her, put his plate down and move the conversation towards something less fraught. “I made shortbread. Do you like shortbread?”

He stiffens, trying not to panic, when Melanie envelops him in a bear hug, smushing Rowan’s chest and one arm against her necklace. “You spend Christmas with your family?”

“Don’t most people who celebrate it?” He shuffles out of her embrace to slide his cling-filmed plate onto Shelby’s desk beside a plastic container of pizza scrolls. He slips the ingredients card from his jeans pocket, straightens the creases and rests it by the plate. “Uh … is cling-film better or worse for the environment than biscuits in a freezer bag? I had a set of clip-seal containers, but my housemates left me two condiment-sized ones in the cupboard. I could use a bit of plastic or defrost frozen stir fry, except I didn’t know what I’d put that in if I used the stir fry container for the shortbread...”

Rowan realises he’s rambling and presses his lips together before he rants on how his containers must be growing five types of mould in the bottom of Matt’s backpack.

“Happy Holidays, everyone!” Shelby, both arms burdened by plastic cake containers, enters wearing a red T-shirt with the legend “All I Want for Christmas Is a Unicorn”, a glittery ribbon tied around the end of her braid. Only twice before has he seen her without a blazer. “Mel! Your earrings! Millers?”

Rowan swallows a laugh and, freed from awkwardness, heads for the relative comfort of his desk.

A party day, he soon realises, possesses a distressing lack of work. He acquires plates and spoons from the kitchenette, he works on a few photos from last week, he sorts his emails. He notices Melanie pulling Damien aside to talk about something that requires the waving of candy-cane fingernails, but, before he can start to wonder, the volunteer ropes him into a conversation about a loving family with unusual pavlova-eating habits. Shelby saves him from that oddity only to tell the story of her family’s chipping in to get her granddaughter a four-hundred-dollar dollhouse. “My parents wouldn’t have spent that much on a toy! How can anyone charge four hundred dollars for plastic?”

That seems like a good time to head over to the food table.

Shelby does make a good chocolate cake.

“Rowan.” Damien heads towards him, his approach signalled by a trailing, bell-ringing Melanie. “A minute?”

Nothing good has ever been heralded by this question. Nothing.

Rowan nods and follows them over to the whiteboard, standing in front of the List.

“Do you,” Damien says, at least doing the decent thing of asking straight out, “need somewhere to go for Christmas?”

Oh, god. What provoked this horror? Melanie?

Why...?

“We’d non-romantically love to have you.” Melanie’s smile beams as bright as her nails—her lips a close match for their glossy crimson basecoat. “Me and my daughter and her partner, I mean—not me and Damien together. It won’t be anything fancy, but you’re welcome to come.”

“My wife said my telling her about being recipro makes so much sense, and she’d like to ask questions of someone who actually knows things.” Damien nods, his holiday cheer demonstrated in the absence of a tie, rolled-up shirtsleeves and reflectively-shiny shoes. “And I make beer batter fritters.”

Never has Rowan heard Damien speak in aromantic-identity terms with that much casual fluidity, and he would smile but for two co-workers waiting, expectantly, for his answer.

How does he express appreciation for their kindness while explaining that he can’t not go home for Christmas?

A few moments pass before Rowan’s lips and tongue produce sounds that aren’t “I”, “uh” and “I … uh”. “Thanks? But … well, I’d be fine being alone on Christmas and I'm not doing that because … that’d be bad, so... And, you know, family? And I want to see my dog? So ... thanks, but...”

“But you’re one of us,” Melanie says with unusual solemnity, resting a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Just like Damien’s now one of—wait, we need to get you a mug! Why didn’t we get Damien a mug?”

“Well, actually...” Rowan, thanking the Aro Gods for Melanie’s willingness to head down any conversational tangent, darts towards his desk and satchel, the latter housing a heavy tissue-wrapped box. Pinkish-red, of course. “Here. Have a mug.”

“Oh! You should have told me!” Melanie’s lips tremble as she and Damien follow him back across the room. “I would have gotten a mug with you!”

Rowan rests the box on his lap, startled. Why didn’t he think to tell Melanie that he bought Damien a mug? (How else does one welcome another into aromantic kinship?) Why didn’t he wait until Damien was busy and order a mug with Melanie, instead of buying one on his phone on the train home from work?

Rowan owns skill in list-making, cross-stitch, baking, fixing other people’s photos and designing his own leaflets. He’s quietly proud of the many arts in which he dabbles with varying degrees of success. He’s mastered, too, survival on the fringes of other people’s lives, survival in a world where few are worth trusting. That ability though, makes him a man too comfortable in isolation. It makes him, in ways that have nothing to do with allosexual frayromanticism beyond his living in an aromantic-antagonistic world, a man who doesn’t know how to welcome other people into the house behind his five-metre fence.

He keeps everyone at arm’s length, even when—perhaps especially when—he plies his crafts for their benefit.

Does everyone experience acute flashes of insight at inconvenient times, the irrevocable sense that their personhood is one bewildering state of immeasurably fucked up?

“I’m sorry. Really.” He passes the mug to Damien, looking at Melanie. “I’m used to doing things on my own. I should have thought, but I didn’t.”

“We do realise that,” Damien says, tearing both wrapping paper and the box lid in a sharp tug. “You got the green-stripe one—oh, wait, it’s got both?” His hands render the mug’s size almost laughable, but Rowan couldn’t find soup-sized variants from a store willing to custom print aromantic flags on crockery. “Mel, there’s both. The recipromantic-only one and the shared one. Thank you!”

Is Rowan imagining that hint of passive-aggression? “You realise...?”

“That you’re independent, that’d you’d rather suffer alone than risk asking for help, even when it causes problems for you. That you’re only comfortable with people when you’re in a position of knowledge or authority. We learnt early on that you work best when we get out of your way.” Damien sets the mug on the desk with a soft clink. “I’m not completely useless in my job, so try harder to stop rolling your eyes over my photos.”

“They’re terrible,” Melanie says, squeezing Rowan’s forearm—apparently forgiven. “You know that, right?”

“The next person to say they can do better has to prove it—”

“My dog photos prove it!”

“At an event! Not in your backyard!”

For a reason likely tied up in internalised ableism, Rowan thought anxiety his designated, annoyance-causing personality failing. His tendency to overreact, freak out, let things get to him; his tendency to shaking hands and rambling incoherence. He didn’t consider that, in the company of people more inclined to decency and less inclined to avoid criticism on deadnaming and cissexism by casting him as the problem, they may find something else frustrating or difficult.

“Is this...” Rowan halts, thinking better of it, before he says the words “being fired just before Christmas”. Even he doubts Damien capable of inviting someone to join him for the holiday only to retaliate with a firing on Rowan’s refusal, although logic doesn’t still his hands. What’s the good of logic if my anxiety still ignores it? “What is this?”

Damien shrugs, tapping a finger against his new mug. “Yearly performance evaluation, maybe? Shame that I’ll have to write it down. I’d rather just call this sort—”

“What’d you say on mine?” Melanie blurts, clapping her hands.

Damien raises both eyebrows. “As if I’d answer that sober!” He shakes his head; Melanie trills her laughter. “We realise that there’s reasons, Rowan. It isn’t a real problem for us, but it may be one for you. If you find yourself in the company of a therapist at some point, consider mentioning it?”

Reining in Melanie wasn’t the reason Damien asked her to work with Rowan, he realises in yet another dizzying, revelatory moment, but that isn’t the cause of Rowan’s spluttering. “If? You think it’s only if? I’d have more aro shit on my desk if I weren’t paying a psychiatrist and a psychologist!” He sighs and nods. “January. I see them January.”

“I don’t like to assume.” Damien shrugs again; Rowan guesses it his attempt at conveying casualness. “Given that this isn’t quite the … er, situation for this conversation, I should—”

“I’m fine,” Rowan says, thinking Melanie’s heedless interrupting a contagious quality. “Really. It’s good. Like actually...” He doesn’t know how to voice this feeling that, for the first time in his life, someone has voiced a critique that doesn’t feel like he’s being disdained or unravelled. “Melanie … again, I’m sorry.” He thinks the time right for another distraction and grabs the second parcel from his bag—tissue paper tied with strands of aro-coloured embroidery floss. “Here. I’ve been working on this. I got your name.”

Melanie lunges for the parcel, struggling to untie the knot with her long fingernails until Shelby—was she close by?—hands over a pair of scissors. Blades click shut; Melanie pulls away the paper.

Twenty square embroidered patches in the purples and greens of many aro-ace and aromantic pride flags cascade from Melanie’s hands onto the worn carpet.

Melanie has always been given to laughter, but the way she bends over, resting her elbows on her knees as though she can’t hold herself up, has Rowan fearing that he’s given her a heart attack via pride patches.

“Aro-ace! Are these all of them?” She draws a shaking breath and carefully kneels, gathering patches. “I didn’t know there were this many!”

“Aro and aro-ace. The ones I know about, anyway. There’s probably a few I don’t.”

“Did you make all these?” Shelby asks. “You should sell them!”

Rowan considers explaining why he’ll never make even minimum wage selling hand-embroidered patches in aro pride flag colours, but Melanie’s pulling him into another grasping hug has him scarce able to breathe, never mind speak. He doesn’t know for how long Melanie smothers him, just that she, like an eventual retreating tide, steps back, leaving Rowan bewildered and giddy. Perhaps this is too much?

“You’re a liar, and this must have taken forever, and you shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you sew!” Melanie shakes her head, shuffling through the patches. “There’s the aro-ace flag with blue and orange, and a combined one, and one without black stripes—oh, thank you!”

Rowan shrugs, relieved that she seems happy. “Do you have something to put them on?”

“I have a coat. I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!” Melanie grins, shaking her head, before leaning over to tap Damien on the forearm. “Should the rest of us swap gifts now?”

Damien settles himself down on the closest chair. “Good idea. Do you want to—”

“We’re doing Secret Santa now!” Melanie stands on her tiptoes, waving the hand not clutching a handful of patches. “Find your person and give your gift, and then come here and show me what you got! Rowan made me aro-ace patches! All the aro-ace patches!”

“You know your evaluation says ‘needs to stop interrupt—’”

“Quickly, because Damien’s nattering on about performance evaluations!”

Damien sighs, shakes his head and leans back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Lord give me—is that mould up there?”

“Probably,” Rowan says, hoping that he doesn’t look like a man expecting to open a set of golf balls. Did Shelby get him and lie about Melanie? Does that explain the voice recording? “Does the janitor have a step ladder? It’d be easier to tell if we got up close.”

“She does, because of the lighting.” Damien shakes his head. “Remind me first week back to get someone in to look at that. Or to write it on the whiteboard before we leave.” He reaches inside his left trouser pocket, removes a small card-sized parcel held between thumb and pointer finger, and flips it onto Rowan’s lap with surprising deftness. “I think this will be appropriate? While I didn’t know what you planned for Melanie, I saw you working on the train one evening. You had earbuds in and were too busy looking at your hands to notice, but I guessed then you’d made your bag’s patches.”

“It’s hard to cross-stitch on a moving train,” Rowan says by way of apology, a shade confused: what gift needs this explanation? “Hard to cross-stitch well. Not so hard if you don’t care about neatness.” He peels back the tape—Damien wrapped the card the way he presses his suits, the edges inhumanly crisp—and finds a gift card for his local sewing store. Rowan stares, drops the card on his lap and slides his hands under his legs, doubtful he can say anything comprehensible past this isn’t a gift pack of golf balls.

“That’s what you got him? A gift card?” Melanie shakes her head and pokes Damien in the shoulder with startling vehemence; only Damien’s size and his feet, firmly planted on the ground, keep him from falling. “Did you put any thought into that? I don’t like to be that oldie—” She stops, scowling: Rowan can’t hold back his spluttering laughter. “As I was saying, gift cards are the laziest way to—Rowan’s laughing at me, isn’t he?”

Damien tucks his hands behind his head and leans further back in his chair, grinning up at the popcorn ceiling.

Moments—in which Shelby gives Damien a six pack of fancy-looking artisanal beer—pass before Rowan’s ribcage resumes its regular pattern of movement. Finally, he manages to rasp an explanation: “Buying a gift card for a department store? Impersonal, but okay if they shop there. Buying a gift card for a trans man at a clothing shop where every tag has woman on the label? Hateful, unless you know he wants it. Buying a gift card related to someone’s interests so they can pick what they want? Good. And I need fabric, so … thank you.”

“Did someone get you a Millers gift card?” Melanie asks, her hands raised to cover her mouth. “That’s horrible!”

“That’s Aunt Laura,” Rowan mutters. Melanie’s expression of horror, Damien’s surprising evaluation and the wonder of a good, useful present leaves him inclined to truth: “That’s the most considerate gift I’ll get. One with thought that isn’t ‘outright cissexism’ or ‘you’re a man so we’ll ignore your personality to give you the most generically-male of generically-male items’.” He places the gift card and paper on his desk before nodding at Damien, who continues his overgrown Cheshire Cat impression. “Really, thank you.”

Even though Rowan isn’t standing atop his desk to blather about names, the room falls into an uncomfortable quiet.

Shouldn’t someone rustle some wrapping paper? Bite into a biscuit? Thank somebody for their gift? Why aren’t they making noise?

Melanie breaks into a broad smile, threading her fingers together like a self-congratulatory cartoon villain. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Rowan’s body, ever alert to strangeness in the people around him, stiffens long before his brain concurs that this change in conversational direction is at minimum odd and veering towards confronting with a high likelihood of I’m so not going to like it.

Damien jerks upright, chair creaking. “Didn’t we talk about how to do this—”

“His aunt gave him a Millers gift card!” Melanie grabs Shelby by the arm and drags her towards the meeting room like an illegal firework gone out of control.

Damien isn’t much an arbiter of this office’s brand of chaos, but he’s the closest thing to a pillar of stability inside this mouse-scented bewilderment and therefore the person at which Rowan directs his questioning: “What...?”

“You know how Melanie gets all enthusiastic?” Damien runs both hands through his already-mussed hair. “She comes up with plans and you can’t so much stop her as guide her in the safest direction and hope you’re alive come the landing?”

Does Damien know that is the worst answer anyone can give to a man with more than one anxiety disorder? At least short of pronouncements like “we volunteered you to give year 12 biology students a seminar on recessive genes and you’re starting right now”? Wasn’t that something to do with the monk who grew beans? Hendel? Mendel? Or did he just grow beans at a monastery for some reason? Or was it peas?

“What...?” Rowan croaks, staring at the dark meeting room like a man waiting to face a starving tyrannosaurus.

“She thought we should demonstrate our acceptance of you, after our failures in this. And then she realised Christmas isn’t a great time of year for you, which made her even more … uh, enthusiastic. I made her promise she’d do this after everyone else left, but...”

Melanie staggers out of the meeting room with a large basket held in both hands, a basket covered with glinting cellophane and decorated with a mix of blue and green ribbons.

Shelby trails after her, clasping another pair of scissors.

Rowan will never understand, never mind be able to explain, the thought processes leading to his diving off his chair for the sanctuary underneath his desk—just that one moment he’s sitting on his chair and the next he’s crouching beside computer cables and a lid from someone’s Pikachu lunch box. Some primeval sense of cave as safety, perhaps … but didn’t prehistoric humanity fear cave bears and cave lions? Aren’t large, bright spaces, with visibility and room to run, safer than small, dark places concealing unknowable predators? What about drought, then? Or deserts? Are there any safe places, really...?

Melanie holds no respect for the ancient tenets of let the hiding man hide undisturbed until he’s ready to stop hiding, but she does rest the basket on the ground at the entrance of Rowan’s desk-cave, blocking legs and chairs from sight. “Merry Christmas,” she warbles from behind the mountain of cellophane and wicker. “We hope there’s something there that you like!”

“Happy Holidays!” Shelby echoes, followed by a few more rounds from the rest of the office. “Do you want scissors? Melanie wraps things like she’s paid to use sticky tape by the metre.”

“We only have cheap tape in the office! It won’t stick unless you use heaps!” A thunking sound echoes from above Rowan’s head, and then Melanie’s candy-striped hand reaches around the leg of his desk, offering Shelby’s scissors. “Here. You’ll ... probably need them.”

There’s something to be said for this workplace’s willingness to treat escapades atop and beneath office furniture as normal, Rowan thinks. Breathe. “Than—uh—thanks.” He takes the scissors, staring at the back of shining cellophane; a miscellany of shapes wrapped in green paper sit within like an aromantic dragon’s treasure hoard.

“Damien, can you make them give us better tape next year?”

“We can have good tape if we stop spending the stationery money on good coffee and your fancy teas?”

“The tape’s fine,” Melanie announces before changing the subject: “Rowan? Are you opening anything? You have to tell us what you’re opening if you’re going to do it down there. Oh, do be careful—I think Liam used to shove his chewing gum under the table.”

Rowan shudders, but better his hair brushing old chewing gum over seeing his gift-opening become the focus of everyone’s attention! He draws a steadying breath, tells himself delay won’t help and slits the cellophane until he can draw out a wrapped box, one suspiciously weighty. At least fifty pieces of tape fasten the flaps on each end; Rowan promises himself that he’ll wrap everything in string and tea towels from now on before ripping into the paper. A mug with five horizontal bands wrapped around its body, the trans flag fading into the aro flag—blue into green, pink into green, white unchanged, pink into grey, blue into black.

Shelby, he thinks in disbelief, the non-existent golf balls making their appearance inside his throat. He rests the mug in his lap before reaching through the cellophane with shaking, sweating hands for another box. Another box with the same dimensions and weight...

“Oh, god,” he whispers.

His co-workers got him a basket of pride mugs for Christmas.

Melanie breaks into ringing laughter.

He needs a moment to find his voice, a moment in which he unwraps a mug with a gradient allo-aro design and another with the aromantic flag on one side and the bisexual flag on the other. “Did you  … did you … uh, get me any coffee to go with all my mugs?”

“It’s on the bottom!” Melanie trills. “And it isn’t just mugs!”

“Mostly mugs,” Damien says.

After another couple of minutes, a gradient frayromantic and a frayromantic-and-allo-aro mug join the collection precariously balanced on Rowan’s thighs. He sighs in relief when the next item in the basket feels soft, flat and light, something rustling underneath the wrapping paper, but a second lot of golf balls settle in his throat when he spots the pink and blue stripes, the drape of fabric: a trans pride flag.  

He can’t swallow, can’t lessen the burn in his eyes or ease the stiffness in his jaw and neck; his fingers fight to tear, peel and grasp. Bewildered to the point of dizziness, he finds an aromantic flag with its glorious green stripes, a frayromantic-and-bisexual mug and the expensive coffee Rowan permits himself on special occasions.  

He scoops wrapping paper and boxes back into the basket before hugging his clinking pile of mugs and flags.

Inchoate feeling abounds: a tangle, a knot of emotion with trailing threads of pleasure and overwhelm, surprise and gratitude, guilt and shame ... and something like the shock of being slapped across the face. They shouldn’t have done this! He shouldn’t be like this! Why is this too much? Why can’t he say “thank you” and express a normal, sensible gratitude for these people doing what Rowan’s family can’t ... instead of struggling with the feeling that Rowan, ungrateful and demanding, doesn’t deserve anything from people who have provoked his annoyance, frustration and alienation?

Mugs. Mugs and flags.

Why does something this wondrous have to hurt so much?

After a few moments, the only sound from him the chink of shifting crockery, someone moves the basket. Melanie sits on the floor and wriggles herself backwards underneath the table, grunting, to sit beside him. For once, she doesn’t speak; she rests a hand around his shoulder and lets him be a shivering mass of man clasping mugs.

Finally, Rowan’s rasping, croaking voice manages a few words: “Is this why Shelby recorded me ... talking about my identities?”

“I told you he thought it was suspicious!” Shelby crawls to Rowan’s other side, her braid trailing over the carpet. “Mel said you’d think it was just me being old—no, nobody does that!” She clasps his forearm, squeezing like a vice on wood. “Mel tried seeing if you’ve got a … all those accounts that aren’t Facebook, where you might say what you are? But she couldn’t find you, so I had my granddaughter show me how to record you. We knew we wouldn’t remember if you just said them.”

“I don’t know all the flags yet,” Melanie says in apologetic tones. “And I thought if I made the others check, they’d learn more about us!”

Part of Rowan feels a habitual spike of terror at the thought of offline people finding his social media accounts; part of him feels a quiet pride at Melanie’s using him to educate others in aromanticism. Most of him, fearing a blubbering breakdown, clings to the lifeline of asking questions: “And why Damien started that whole conversation?”

“We had to know where your mug seller was.” Damien bends down to peer underneath the desk and, at Melanie’s brow-arched stare, adds: “I’m not getting under there! You’ll have to call the SES to cut me out!”

Rowan nods and draws a breath. “I … I...”

“You’re very welcome.” Shelby squeezes his arm again. “Can I have your shortbread recipe? They’re good!”

“Yeah. Bag. Front pocket, left-hand side. People ask, so...” Rowan tries for another slow inhale. It’s supposed to help. Supposed.  

His family expects gratitude said clearly and directly, even when undeserving; they’ll never take emotional speechlessness as its shorthand. They want the formula followed, interactions never deviating from the same narrow structure: gift given, thanks provided, everything right in their world where it’s the thought that counts justifies disrespect of another’s personhood. They avoid messiness and honesty; they fear navigating and acknowledging mistakes and missteps.

They won’t see him as a man, or understand the pain they cause in believing his masculinity something he can put aside for their comfort, because they fear a world with unpredictability and fluidity.

Mum and Dad will never conspire to give him a gift like this. They’ll never want to get to know Rowan well enough to try. They’ll never put his needs ahead of their comfort. They’ll never speak of challenges or difficulties with Damien’s kind casualness. They’ll never want to acknowledge their failures. They’ll never give him an awkward, chaotic Christmas that veers from their notions of how things are supposed to be.

Does he want to endure their narrowness, now that he knows what better looks like?

Does he want to endure their truth that Rowan Ross isn’t a real man to them—and won’t be a real person until he remembers his deadname and the stereotypical trappings of the gender presumed to accompany it?

Or does he want to expect and get something else?

Maybe he doesn’t want a world so predictable his erasure becomes acceptable collateral damage for sticking to the pattern.

Maybe, despite his anxiety, he wants a world where people can surprise him.

“Melanie? Damien?” Rowan, shaking, pokes his head out from underneath the desk. “Can I … can I still spend Christmas with one of you?”

[yeah-oh-shit]

so im still trying to figure out wtf dracula was all about and if there is a deeper meaning at all. i compiled a list of all my observations - especially places where it might relate to sherlock, things that seem odd/out of place, important thematic moments, anything that is unexplained. idk if i will come back to this to try to piece it together more, but i needed to get it all down so i could look at it in its wholeness. in case you are interested, here is my commentary, any “points of interest,” i found, below the cut. 

episode 1:

vampirism is a contagion, sister agatha asks harker if he had “sexual intercourse” with dracula right away - aids

flies everywhere, on windows, the camera lens, one flies into harker’s eye

why did dracula let himself become such an old man? no one good to eat? (i’ve been telling everyone for years that you are what you eat)

story told by harker w/sister agatha interviewing him, almost leading him on

harker’s written account is unreliable

woman in disguise - mina (reminds me of mary)

rainbow lighting

spiral candles match spiral bedpost

sister agatha mentions a “point of interest”

dracula calls jonathan johnny (john mirror?)

inconsistencies: picture of mina changes from right to left, harker says no one calls him johnny (but mina later shows that she does - johnny blue eyes)

THERE IS NO BABY

dates - 12th, 19th, and 29th (!!)

scene very similar to the fall - “you are me,” dracula tries to get harker on his side but harker refuses

dracula says he will “destroy everyone and everything you love” in england

harker is found by sailors and said to be a drowned man walking/talking after he falls from castle dracula

lots of queer coding and it’s during the parts where dracula is shown as the most monstrous and coercive

sister agatha taunts dracula, calls him a beast (rules of the beast), he is indeed shown as beastly

dracula licks a knife in a suggestive way (moriarty)

inviting dracula in leads to death

harker doesn’t remember what happened to him (doesn’t know he is dead)

harker doesn’t know what mina’s face looks like

mina says a line much like mary’s (“i decide who you are”)

sister agatha mentions having a detective acquaintance in london (!!)

dracula is an old man for most of the episode, doesn’t come off as flirty or sexy to me, just seems coercive, controlling, and creepy. we barely get any time w/harker and dracula together, doesn’t seem like they have much chemistry

jonathan in and out of dream, weakened, coerced

he keeps going deeper into the castle and eventually discovers dracula’s undead and even dracula’s crypt itself but can’t find the person who wrote him a note

castle is a maze but jonathan discovers the map (hiding behind a portrait, deduces this in a way that makes pretty much no sense)

sun is equated to lover’s face

dracula never seems to lie, just says things in a truthful way that is obfuscated (except for when he knocks the mirror over and claims to being clumsy)

dracula wants to go to england bc he thinks the most cultured and rich people live there (aristocratic bullshit) but it is reinforced so many times that somehow him being choosy has helped him to live a long time .. confusing

episode 2:

starts w/dracula and agatha talking in his castle. dracula talks about how a story has to be interesting from the beginning, the contract between author and reader, “quality of time”

“there’s a game in progress” “a knight is menacing a queen” “whose knight, whose queen?” “Who’s black, who’s white”

ship in a bottle

whole episode takes place on a big ship

sokolov (anderson) is captain (steering the ship)

mind palace/dreaming (sr. agatha and dracula) in castle but actually in room 9 on ship

mr balaur (dragon - dracula) brought all these people together

7 passengers on the ship (unusual, stated multiple times, i don’t think we are ever told significance?)

one sick - captain is only one allowed in

piotr isn’t who he says he is

dracula kills dorabella (very flirty with her) talks about mirrors showing the truth - “one can always find a mirror if one tries” “mirrors are a deeper and more dangerous magic than most people understand. mirrors can give us space to imagine or worse, show us the truth”

“this marriage is a necessary evil”

confirmed gay couple (lord ruthven and adisa) - lord ruthven talks about sleeping with his wife in front of adisa constantly (cruel), adisa is disguised as a servant, adisa seems to really love ruthven

many people jump ship when everyone starts dying

lord ruthven is both very gay and very mean - and into dracula

dracula and agatha play chess

“the purpose of an alias seems to have alluded you” (mr. balaur means dragon means dracula, a disguise is “always a self portrait”)

dracula says he is choosy (so does agatha) but also recognizes that he is an addict (agatha’s word)  - claims to be choosy and to be like everything in same breath

dracula called a beast, acts very animal around blood - can’t control himself

agatha loses time during chess, notices dracula is winning now, is also drinking blood out of a glass

he tells her to “forget about the chess and concentrate on the game”

dracula frames agatha, almost kills her via hanging (despite trying to “savor” her)

sister agatha claims she is a vampire and then tries to prove dracula is one

lord ruthven wants to be “partners” with dracula

somehow dracula appears out of nowhere in the cabin of dr. sharma

vampire’s kiss is an opiate - makes people dream

emphasis on the fact that the daughter can see (eyes!), her father has a scar over his right eye

dracula flirts with everyone

no one suspects dracula even though its really obvious it is him?? he is being hella suspicious?

daughter (who sees dracula killing) doesn’t tell anyone, later kills herself by drinking a potion to avoid becoming infected

sister agatha is infected/dying, losing fingernails (like harker)

dracula will die without his soil

captain sokolov stays behind in ship w/agatha, piotr and cook escape

agatha discovers extra soil in dracula’s bed, realizes the fire didn’t kill him

dracula attacks sokolov but somehow he doesn’t die and can’t walk even though his wound is in his neck but still is able to DRAG himself?

dracula explains fear of cross as fear of oppression that he has inherited from eating peasants (but he is very choosy with his diet?)

ship sinks, sister agatha dies (implied, which is confusing bc harker also goes into the sea and doesn’t die.. maybe it has to do with the fact that she doesn’t have any soil? but neither did harker? vampire lore seems convoluted and confusing) dracula finds his soil (in the water)

dracula wakes up, goes ashore, its modern day and helicopters, a spot light, police cars, and modern day sister agatha greet him

episode 3:

weird vibe generally.. almost reminds me of tfp w/lighting and how it feels so off from the rest

dracula shows us that what he sees in the mirror is who he truly is (at least that is what is implied) an old ugly man

dracula is weird and kinda cute when he is amazed by modern times

we learn that agatha apparently died even though she was just in water and harker survived and was a “drowned man walking and talking” ?

jack (another john mirror?) is in love with lucy, there are a lot of scenes in a club ?, lucy gets engaged to a texan named quincy (who was apparently a main character in the original book and is an asshole in this). all these characters kind of suck

jonathan harker keeps calling jack, we are supposed to think he saved the jonathan harker foundation’s phone number in his phone as just “jonathan harker”? seems weird

jonathan harker  foundation was started by mina, supported by agatha’s family

lots of allusions to jonathan harker foundation getting money from a “bad” source - too much money to just be about science

mercenaries - one has a tattoo like assassin in sherlock

there is a moving clock on the floor of dracula’s cell/cage

dracula asks why he has a toilet when he is a vampire and we never get an answer

dracula’s cage looks like silence of the lambs (like A LOT)

blood is LIVES, dracula helps zoe get a sample of his blood by cutting his wrist with his fingernail - tells her “you have everything you need to know” when she takes his blood (dracula tells zoe, she drinks his blood)

“women don’t have rights, no one has rights” “dracula has rights” ???

zoe starts hallucinating/communicating w/agatha

zoe is agatha’s great niece apparently

dracula does a weird deduction thing about people from smelling or tasting their blood

dracula can’t drink zoe’s blood bc she has cancer and he can’t drink blood of the dying (which seems weird but ok)

renfield (mark) is dracula’s lawyer and seems to become obsessed with him

dracula identifies as a “warlord”

renfield is helping dracula w/“world domination”

dracula is on dating apps, renfield tries to find him people to eat, but he seems dissatisfied

dracula works out (like mycroft)

dracula (d) texts lucy uses vampire emoji

lots of gay/bi/purple lighting

dracula becomes obsessed w/lucy bc she is not afraid of him (or anything) and seems “almost in love with death”

lucy is shown as shallow and obsessed with her looks, but also seems to not like always being seen/watched bc she is beautiful

dracula and lucy are meeting up and she is letting him drink her blood

they meet up and he talks about liking having her “consent” because no one has ever given it before, but also says that it doesn’t really matter and that he doesn’t love her and will never love her

lucy likes the dreams dracula gives her - no one can see her

9 graves of undead

dracula tells lucy not to be cremated because its painful

“boofer lady”- beautiful lady - undead child follows lucy home

renfield sits in a car during their meeting and eats a fly

dracula kills lucy so she can become a vampire, she can’t move but the mirror shows that she is still alive?

we see dracula’s old man face in the mirror multiple times

lucy is burned, and for some reason keeps seeing herself as beautiful in mirrors

agatha (in zoe’s head) talks about the money coming from a bad place again but says she “can’t see it” because zoe doesn’t like to think about it

lucy, jack, zoe, and dracula all meet in dracula’s house

lucy flirts w/jack and he seems disgusted, they force her to take a selfie and see herself as she really is

lucy freaks the fuck out about being ugly and burned and seems to be more obsessed with her beauty after dying which is weird because she seemed to be almost bitter about it when she was alive (didn’t care about or fear anything)

dracula says she will always be burned (why? jonathan survived being drowned, etc. dracula survived fire?) and that he doesn’t care

jack says he will always want to kiss her (even though he was just freaked out by her like 20 seconds ago) kisses her and kills her (at her request)

dracula seems unfazed? even though she was his “greatest bride” ?

zoe has been taken over by agatha? and realizes what the one thing is that dracula fears (the thing that ties together the sun, cross, and needing an invitation - apparently the soil thing doesn’t matter anymore..)

“only one thing in this world you are truly afraid of” - she knows, he doesn’t

he cannot bear to look in a mirror, won’t stand revealed in the sun, needs an invitation to come in - not real things, he has internalized the legends

zoe/agatha says that he was a warrior and so was his entire family (all his relatives, father, brothers, sons, were war heroes who died on the battlefield but not him)

he is the warlord who “skulks in the shadows and steals the lives of others”  and is “unwelcome everywhere” “sleeps in a box of dirt but dreams of a warriors grave”

he fears death the most - the cross represents going willingly to death to him, somehow the sun represents this too? (possibly he is afraid to seeing himself/the truth, same as the mirror)

it is never explained how the invitation thing is tied in.. assuming its because he feels “unwelcome everywhere” ?

she pulls the curtain and he doesn’t burn in the sun, shows him it was his fear of death and his shame all along

can’t conquer death until you face it without fear - “the game is over, you lose, you will live forever in shame”

dracula steps into sun, faces his shame

he faces his fear of death by drinking agatha’s blood, thus dying by suicide (which we were already told vampires can’t do)

gross fiery sex scene with agatha and dracula, he gives her a dream so she will have a nice death

“after all this time did you think I’d let it hurt?” ???

they are in a burning sun and are naked together in a circle, we see dracula’s butt again

it ends with the sun

[fatpinocchio]

[Epistemic status: old man yells at cloud]

I sometimes feel like I live in a barbarian culture.

There's this ideal of being cultured, intelligent, well-behaved ladies and gentlemen, at least in public life. In my experience with contemporary mainstream culture, that seems to be largely disregarded. Though in some respects this used to be better within some parts of society, the past had massive cultural problems in other respects, so I don't want to go back. My image of a cultured person has never been the ideal anywhere, as far as I know.

I'll list some examples, trying to stay away from the most ardently political and culture-war topics:

Bodily functions. During my commute, it's not infrequent for me to see someone spitting on the ground. The spitter is likely to be some well-educated and well-paid engineer or manager, so if anyone should be cultured enough to avoid this disgusting behavior, it should be them. Other examples in this category include my boss burping extremely loudly multiple times a week or people talking casually about vomit or feces (even during a meal!). If you know a food gives you indigestion, you're supposed to say that it doesn't agree with you, not go into detail!

Sex. I'm more sexually liberal than most, so I’m definitely not a puritan, but it's mentioned and alluded to casually to an off-putting degree. Of course, there's nothing wrong with talking about it in a private setting (e.g. with a partner), publicly in something like a serious blog post, or reading/viewing porn on some seedy website, but there's a difference between that and some tweet with 30k retweets or an ad that implies that the subject used the product and then (therefore) had sex.

Speaking of advertising, it's not necessarily bad, and we wouldn't have some good parts of the Internet without it, but some of it is inappropriately attention-grabbing. It's almost like being grabbed and shaken by a guy telling you to come to his store.

Casual sexism. Semi-serious comments that depict men as simple-minded sex-obsessed brutes or women as superficial gold-digging harpies are met with more nods than expressions of horror.

Music. I don't expect people to share my unusual tastes, but apart from the sound, some of the content is particularly questionable. For example, one of my Uber drivers listened to several songs about being attractive and hooking up at a club, which sounded as trashy as you'd expect. Is that really an aspiration deserving of art, or something admirable? Of course, art doesn't have to be admiring or aspirational - it can depict something negatively - but this was clearly intended to be positive.

Avoiding this culture seems nearly impossible. I'd have to abandon social media, never use ride-sharing apps or public transportation, work from home - basically avoid almost all human contact. Not worth the cost. But this adds some background level of unpleasantness to being out in the world.

[randomwordprompts]

If It’s Magic | Chapter 3

A/N: Part filler, part plot, we getting close to some dramaaaa.

Taglist: @bartierbakarimobisson @supersizemeplz @oceanscorazon @wakandas-vibranium @wakandan-flowerz @yaachtynoboat711 @great-neckpectations @babygirlofwakanda @storibambino @reaperdeldrunk

“...And that is why we as a collective representation of the Black student body feel that a Black Student Union would be beneficial to all of the students within this establishment.”

Daniel finished his prepared statement while he and about 35 people were situated in the waiting area of the dean’s office for their sit-in protest. Amira and Lucy came but didn’t plan to stay because of the event they planned to go to later on that day. Initially, the dean thought the students were pulling a prank but he quickly realized as more students gathered that they were actually quite serious. He had his secretary call the police within the first half hour, but the dispatcher made it clear that the students were within their rights to a peaceful protest.

Now they were at a bit of a stalemate, multiple appointments being turned away at either sight or word of the students that turned out. At this point the dean was tired and stressed that he had to reschedule important meetings with donors and partners for the school so he tried to reason with them once more, hoping for a better result than before.

“Listen, let’s work something out. I propose that the school will do more in observance of Black History Month in exchange for the end of this protest.”

Daniel had to bite the inside of his cheek before he essentially cussed out the dean of his college. Xavier took this moment to step in.

“Dean Scott, this isn’t about Black History Month. It’s about Black students from across the diaspora having a safe space to hold and share the experiences that are unique to us and our cultures. Do you really want to be the one to stand in the way of that?”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face for a moment but shook his head, “No, I don’t want that. But if you want this BSU that badly then you’ll do the work; appoint a president, vice president, secretary and so on. The school will support where we can but other than that it’s on the students to keep it afloat.”

“Thank you, Dean. We’ll have the list of roles to you within a week, if not less.”

With those words, the two young men returned to the small mass of students and informed them that the dean signed off on their request. After agreeing to meet up again in two days everyone began to clear out, Amira and Lucy getting ready to leave right after they congratulated the guys. Xavier pulled Amira to the side before she could rush out, slipping his hands in his pockets before he spoke.

“Hey, I know we’re supposed to hang out tomorrow but something came up. You can still come by that night for the other thing, though.”

“Ugh, really? I already had the movie picked out! Well, I guess I can come by later for the other thing if you still have the energy,” Amira said with a playful smirk before giving him a kiss on the cheek and turning to leave.

“We here at Bold the Future are dedicated to cultivating easy access to a full spectrum of reproductive health care for Black women and girls. Our mission is to change policies and replace the white men that have been passing laws with young people of color that can't be bought. But like any movement, it starts at the grassroots level with you."

Amira and Lucy sat and listened to the woman speaking with mild interest, the latter getting excited while the former squinted her eyes in confusion.

"This all sounds good, but there are non-binary folks that need these things too," she whispered to Lucy.

"You're right, but let's just hear them out. Plus this is a movement that's evolving. If you want shit to change then let's do it ourselves in the organization."

Amira looked through her closet again, second-guessing herself on what to wear. While she poured over the various garments Lucy came in and sat on the bed.

"I thought this wasn't a date, why are you panicking about what to wear?"

Amira huffed a bit but kept looking at items.

"It's not a date, but I still like to look nice! Plus we might still chill before we just fuck."

"I mean maybe, but still."

She rolled her eyes and went over to her dresser, taking her roommate's advice and throwing on something light. Black joggers paired with a matching loose crop top and her low top Converse All-Stars, she gave herself a once over before grabbing her keys and heading out.

Xavier sighed and sat in his desk chair trying to patiently wait while the tall beauty from his chemistry class put her clothes back on, looking at the clock periodically in the hopes that she’d get the hint. Once she was dressed enough to be considered decent he led her to the door, opening it to let her out only to be surprised when she turned around and tried to work her way back into his apartment, obviously a bit delirious. He attempted to push her away and realized he didn’t even remember her name. It was during this moment he looked over her head to see Amira about 7 feet away, watching everything unfold. Her face showed no emotion but he could feel the traces of irritation through their bond. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to the punch.

“So you blew off spending time with me to fuck a random, only to try and have me come over and get leftover dick? Did I get that right?”

At her words, the girl turned around from Xavier and sauntered over towards Amira with a smirk.

“I doubt I left much for you to get, but you can try.”

“Actually, you can have him. I don’t do sloppy seconds.”

Xavier tried to stop Amira when she turned to leave but he quickly realized she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, opting to give her space instead. He sighed and went back into his room, leaving the girl he’d fed from in the hallway.

Xavier hadn’t heard from Amira in two days, which was unusual even when they were both insanely busy. He and Daniel were headed to the food court, figuring they’d see Amira and Lucy in their regular spots having lunch. While they walked Xavier posed a question.

“You don’t think she’s still upset, do you?”

“Nigga, you blew her off for random pussy and still tried to smash. I’m surprised she didn’t burn our building down.”

Xavier snorted and waved him off. “Amira’s not that type, plus she doesn’t care about me feeding on other people enough to overreact like this.”

“Overreact?! I really think you are mistaking this young woman with the girl you fell for in middle school.”

“Well when we get to this table and my girl is saving my seat next to her, we’ll see who’s right.”

“She save seats by letting other dudes sit in them?” Daniel questioned as the table in question came into sight.

Amira and Lucy were seated in their usual spots, but next to the former was what appeared to be a linebacker from one of the college teams. He leaned in and whispered something into Amira’s ear and she giggled before playfully shoving him away. Lucy was third-wheeling but the plain grin on her face when Xavier and Daniel approached made it clear that she was waiting for the drama to unfold. She greeted them while Amira tried unsuccessfully to keep the player from kissing and biting on her neck, her laughter that would normally be infectious only driving shock through Xavier as he stood there. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that the two pulled away from each other, though the guy left a hand to rest on Amira’s lower back.

“Hey Daniel, good to see you! Xavier,” she said with a smile plastered onto her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hello, Amira. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh this is David, he plays defense for Penn but he’s in town to talk to some teams before the draft.”

David extended his hand towards Xavier but he only looked at it for a few seconds before he went back to boring holes into Amira’s face. This time the grin that spread her lips held malice before taking David’s hand and excusing them, citing that she wanted to finish showing him around the campus. Once they were out of earshot Xavier turned to Lucy, who was gathering her trash from lunch to throw away.

“Is she fucking him?”

“Hm? Is she fucking him like you were fucking ol girl the other night? Well, given how he’s been following her around today like a puppy, I’d say she gave him something he could feel.”

With those words and a laugh she got up and left the table, Xavier shuddering as he felt a tinge of desire go down his spine but knowing it wasn’t from him.

[maverick-werewolf]

Random Werewolf Fact #5 - Becoming a Werewolf

So how does someone become a werewolf, anyway? Ask almost any Hollywood movie, video game, TV show, novel, and what-have-you, and they’ll say: “Being bitten, of course!” And there are always tons of other wild answers people come up with, too. Here’s a coherent list of some from legend - and some that aren’t, just to point out a few more of those pop culture creations.

I’m going to preemptively say please don’t trust any of the silly lists you see everywhere on the internet or consider them a reputable source. Those make werewolves cry and then go eat someone out of frustration.

Also, this list will obviously not include quite every obscure possibility inside or outside of folklore. There are simply too many around for me to list all of them here (especially some of the wacky things in more obscure legends - as well as some of the even wackier things in pop culture today). Feel free to send me an ask about something if I left it off!

Did NOT appear in folklore:

You’ll notice the majority of this list associates them specifically with disease in some way and turns being a werewolf into an infection. (Keep that in mind for next week’s werewolf fact.)

Being bitten - Some scholars claim there were a few old, obscure legends in which claims were made that a werewolf’s bite could spread the curse - and I’ve seen some around, myself (including some French ones that seem to possibly actually have some basis behind them). But the real question is, are they reputable? I’m personally going with probably not, which is why “being bitten” is exclusively in the section of NOT appearing in folklore. Werewolves transferring their curse via bite was almost certainly created by Hollywood (namely Cut Siodmak again) and then picked up by every form of media imaginable. This is just another of those generally modern ideas that brought them closer to being a disease instead of a curse (looking at you, rabies).

Being scratched - This one is very, very recently contrived (and as you may have noticed honestly kind of irks me for various reasons; more on that later). There’s not a lot to say about it other than that. I’m not sure who exactly made it up or when, but I wish they hadn’t. It’s become quite prolific.

Werewolf sex - Rawr. It’s fine (I mean unless you wanted it?), ladies, having hot werewolf sex won’t give you your partner’s curse, unlike what some pop culture would tell you. This is just another one of those things popular media made up to make werewolves more closely associated with “infection” of various types (yes, including STDs), and to try to associate them more with sex in some way. So have all the werewolf sex you want! You can even get kinky with scratching and biting (disclaimer: depends on your lore, also the werewolf might transform and eat you in a not-fun way during it in most modern media)!

Drinking/otherwise being exposed to werewolf blood - Once again an association with disease, nobody exposed to werewolf blood in folklore was ever at risk of becoming a werewolf, themselves.

Genetics - And lastly, an equivalent to a hereditary disease. This was never a thing in folklore, either. There were no werewolf “genes,” for assorted obvious reasons. All of this is very Hollywood, and very “let’s make monsters into science.”

Appeared in folklore:

Magic skins - A very common one, especially in Scandinavian folklore, someone could always just don a wolf skin and become a werewolf. Usually the skin is in some way enchanted (blessed or cursed, depends on your story and viewpoint). Most often they were wolf skin cloaks, though belts also made some appearances. The hard part, sometimes, was getting them back off, such as what Sigmund and Sinfjotli went through (Sinfjotli himself was later accused of being a werewolf, in the Poetic Edda).

Potions, salves, etc. - Another relatively common one, though this appeared much more often in the late Middle Ages and Early Modern period than any other time frame. One could drink a potion to become a werewolf, or else rub a magical salve all over their body to immediately transform.

Curse from a witch - Watch out for those witches, because they can turn you into a werewolf if they don’t like you. And when it comes to a witch’s curse, you might not necessarily be turning back into a human until you break it.

Curse from a god - Much like the witch’s curse, a curse from a god could result in a permanent or semi-permanent werewolf form, with little (very well spaced out, over a matter of weeks) or no regular shifting back to a human form. For example, Zeus cursing Lycaon to be a wolf - Lycaon was never turning back from that. This isn’t always the case, though.

Performing certain rituals - This is a very broad category, because plenty of werewolves became werewolves after they did some ridiculous ritual or another. For instance, in Arcadia, you had rituals that required someone to swim all the way across a lake under the light of a full moon and they would emerge a werewolf on the other side. Note that none of these rituals involved anything sexual, and generally didn’t even involve violence either (sacrificing virgins has nothing to do with werewolves), unlike modern depictions.

Gift from God - This is an unusual one, pretty much only exampled by the court case of a man named Thiess who came to court admitting he was a werewolf, after multiple eye-witnesses saw him turning into one. However, Thiess said he is a Hound of God. He was released from the court because no one could find fault in him. (You’ll be hearing about Thiess in more detail here in the future! I love his story.)

Test from God - This also didn’t result in evil, feral werewolves trying to kill people. In this case, quite simply, people were either forced to turn into werewolves or even opted to turn into werewolves in order to test the goodness and humanity in others. There are multiple accounts from Christian monks on this subject, of werewolves approaching someone (often a monk, themselves, and the subject of the test) and asking for help, or else helping that person. Their reaction to this kind-hearted, gentle wolf would be the test of their goodness. Because if a man cannot treat a kind, gentle wolf the way he would treat any kind, gentle man, he isn’t really a very good person, now is he?

Deal with the Devil - This started up fairly recently, when werewolves took a turn into being evil - in the Early Modern period, well after the rise to power of the Catholic church (which, in later periods, decided werewolves were evil, unlike the medieval accounts told by the monks). Plenty of people claimed they made a deal with the Devil to receive a salve or a skin that would allow them to take the shape of a wolf. Since they were dealing with Satan, they of course wanted this shape so they could romp about and murder and cannibalize people with the power of a wolf - and also a disguise, since no one would recognize them.

Family curse - There were times, of course, when a family in legend was kind of ambiguously cursed - and this would result in someone being born a werewolf.

Being born on Christmas - Here’s some fun Russian folklore for you: if someone dared to share the birthday of Christ, they would be born a werewolf as punishment. Or, alternatively, according to one account, this was actually an awesome blessing (I’d take it).

Being conceived during a new moon - Again from Russian folklore, if you were conceived during a new moon, you would be born a werewolf. I was born on a new moon... does that count, I wonder?

Next week’s post will be all about this modern idea of lycanthropy as a disease as opposed to a curse (as you saw so readily exampled in pretty much all the newfangled ideas of becoming a werewolf that were recently made up by popular culture), how recent of a concept this is, how it’s become so predominant in werewolf media - and maybe even a little bit of why exactly this is a bad thing.

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff!

Patreon --- YouTube --- Wulfgard --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter)

[undyinglegends-blog]

Hi there so please allow me to scream about one Joshua Kiryu bc i've been sitting on this for ages now

I'd like to preface this by saying that Yoshiya "Joshua" Kiryu is not a monster. At least, he's trying not to be anymore.

Joshua knew a few things for certain in life: Firstly, he could see things other people couldn't. He was heavily ostracized by other kids for the things he could see--people with arrow-tipped, wiry wings, people who had died and were now running around Shibuya with timers on their hands, animals with glowing tattoos for legs, arms, tails, that would attack those dead people and cause them to disappear, strange red symbols that would float around, yellow symbols that would latch on to people and, a few times, himself. No one ever believed him, of course. "Stop lying," his parents would tell him. "Stop crying for attention." He eventually learned to just stop mentioning it. Later he learned to just stop telling people the truth at all, since they never believed him. People heard what they wanted to hear, and what they wanted to hear were things that benefitted them in some way. "Home life is fine," he'd say. "I'm fine," he'd say. "Everything's fine," he'd say. And people would believe him then, because that meant they didn't have anything weighing on their conscience.

Secondly, nothing he did was ever good enough for his parents. Top of his class, winning numerous awards in math and science at his school, and it was never enough because that was their expectation for him. Perfection was their standard. Sometimes Joshua would get a couple questions wrong on an exam, and his mother would look at him and tell him she was disappointed, that she expected better of him, that she didn't want a failure for a son, and Joshua would agree because what else could he do? They wouldn't love him if he wasn't perfect. So he tried to be perfect. He really did. But come his tenth birthday, when the world became nothing but him and a pair of silver headphones, he just... stopped caring.

Thirdly, the world was dull and gray to him. Unbeknownst to him, Joshua was suffering from depression. He found himself feeling unmotivated, unusually tired all the time, finding no joy in even the smallest of things that he had found to be hobbies of his. And the world around him felt just as gray and lifeless as he did. It took a lot of effort to just get out of bed in the morning as he grew older.

Then he met Hanekoma.

Hanekoma was and still is the only person that Joshua genuinely trusts, the one person who ever took him seriously and treated him as something of an equal, and most importantly, the one person who actually confirmed that all the things that he had seen for his entire life were real. Hanekoma told him about the Game, the Underground, the Reapers and Players. And Joshua listened to every word, feeling complete relief at the fact that he wasn't crazy.

But the more Hanekoma talked, the more Joshua realized that he didn't want to just learn about the Game; he wanted to be a part of it. There was nothing for him in the living world, he thought. Parents who barely knew he existed and fought all the time (Mother was stressed, Father drank because he was stressed, Mother got more stressed because of his drinking which made Father more stressd), peers who constantly mocked and ridiculed him, and a world that was moving so fast for a tired, goalless boy. In the Reapers' Game, though, there was a goal. Everyone could use pins, everyone was put on equal footing. And there was one goal: to win. There was something.

[SUICIDE TW]

He was afraid of doing it, initially. He didn't want it to hurt. But he knew he had to. He wanted to. He wanted to get out of this endless hell of his life and do something for once.

So on July 30th, 1995, Yoshiya Kiryu hanged himself in his room, and was later found by his mother the next morning. The funeral was minimal; very few attended.

[TW END]

He can still remember the look of hurt, of regret in Hanekoma's eyes when he saw that Joshua had entered the Game. But Joshua excelled in the Game, being able to use a wide variety of pins--not all of them, but certainly a large array of them. He and his partner made it to the end of the week, and while they both had scored enough points to return to life, only Joshua's partner did. Joshua wanted to become a Reaper. He even told him to keep his entry fee--his mark on the world, other people's memories of him, any information about him. He wouldn't need it in the Underground. The Reapers could not keep his entry fee in full, so only minimal information on Yoshiya Kiryu was released back into the living world.

Joshua immediately became a Harrier Reaper, and was very efficient in his job of erasing Players. But upon learning about the position of Composer, the most powerful being in Shibuya, he set his sights on that. For once in his existence, he had drive, motivation, a reason to do something, and it was wonderful. The world, for once, had color to it as he fought and got stronger. This was where his quietness grew into confidence, and confidence grew into arrogance. A couple slips let him find that people’s reactions to him flirting with them--especially cute boys--was not only hilarious, but kept people from getting close to him. Why bother? No matter how lonely you are, your life made it pretty obvious that friends weren’t for you.

Eventually, he took on and defeated the previous Composer. His ethereal form reflected the age of his soul--how long he had existed, how old he would have been had he lived--and suddenly, he could hear everything in Shibuya. Everyone’s thoughts and emotions were readily available to him, all at once without filter. And it stayed like this for around 10 years (if we assume twewy takes place in 2007). Joshua could hear and see everything in the city--every horrible crime, every fight, every meeting between friends, every death. He had to pay special attention to the deaths, of course, to see if they were strong enough to be Players. He was bombarded with information, especially with the rise of popular culture and the city’s fixation of the consumption of goods.

This overexposure to people and consumerism, as well as his own cynical viewpoint warping his perspective, caused Joshua to gradually grow to loathe the city. And the city grew duller and more vapid in response to Joshua’s will. He is the city; the city is him. They affect one another. The omniscience cause him to become horribly numb and disenfranchised, not blinking at death or murder or suicide any longer because he had seen it so many times.

[SUICIDE TW]

Finally, it came to a tipping point, where Joshua was going to destroy Shibuya--and himself along with it. And he thought he was finally going to get his wish for death, to stop his miserable existence. Kitaniji was actively trying to stop him; any of the Reapers who wanted his job could just try to kill him; and even Hanekoma, the one person he genuinely trusted, thought it best to help Minamimoto become Composer and destroy Joshua in order to protect Shibuya. And once more, Joshua Kiryu felt completely and utterly alone. Not even the person he trusted more than anything thought he was worth saving. Every path lead to Joshua’s death in some manner.

[TW END]

So he was willing to put everyone’s lives on the line. He felt nothing as he killed an innocent teenager and made him fight for him, put him through hell just so he could prove that the city was stale and stagnant, just as he had always thought.

The time Joshua spent with Neku began to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. Neku was no longer fighting for himself, he was fighting for another person, one he had just met and yet already cared about. Multiple times throughout the week, Neku had helped other people, in some cases without a bit of hesitation, because it was the right thing to do. He saw Shibuya’s people grow and change, both in good ways and bad--including his own proxy. It didn’t make sense to him. This want to help and protect people... the fact that someone once as cynical as him could gain that was baffling.

Even as baffling was Joshua faking his sacrifice. Well, not entirely faking. Neku would have most certainly been destroyed by the level i flare, and had Joshua been a tenth of a second later, he could have been seriously injured himself. He didn’t get out of that unscathed, either--the attack had grazed him as he jumped to a parallel world, and it had hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Any later, and he could have easily been in far worse shape. That week in that alternate timeline let him think, and he did everything he could to justify to himself that all of this was wrong, that the moment Neku was presented with a strenuous situation he would revert back to his old ways, and Joshua’s plans to erase Shibuya could go on as planned.

But then Neku didn’t pull the trigger. He had every reason to, but he didn’t. Joshua had won their Game, and he could do as he desired with the city. But he couldn’t destroy it. Not after going through that week with Neku, after watching him fight Kitaniji in order to rescue everyone--Joshua included--from the Conductor, after being unable to shoot Joshua. He didn’t know what was going through Neku’s head or why he didn’t shoot--but some small, deeply-hidden part of him thought that maybe, maybe it was because Neku thought Joshua was worth saving.

“I can’t forgive you. But I trust you.”

He still doesn’t understand how that was possible.

The following week left Joshua to reflect, to fight with Hanekoma over what he had done to protect Shibuya, and to finally realize the disgusting, emotionless monster he had become. Even just a bit of the weight of what he had done slammed into him full-force, and he slunk into momentary despair over what thing he had turned into. Since then he has been guilt-ridden and remorseful, but is unsure of how to even begin to approach the subject. Only recently has he left himself start to acknowledge his emotions, because the guilt and horror at what he had done was just too strong to push aside.

Since the end of TWEWY, Joshua has been trying. He’s been trying to become better. He is slowly beginning to try to understand people, to understand that people’s lives--even his own, to an extent--have value, to try and be just a bit more selfless, to try and care. It’s certainly difficult, uncomfortable, and extremely foreign to him, but he’s trying. (I tend to play him like his KH3D incarnation, hence this is how the original game leads to this--) He doesn’t want to continue to be the monster he had been.

Becoming a Reaper was like he got tinted glasses. Eventually, the luster faded, and the world was gray once more. Because of Neku and crew, Joshua Kiryu finally feels like he can see color in the world that he couldn’t before.

[holyprofessorvoidoperator]

"Are they firing everyone over there?"

A former coworker texted me for the first time since he'd moved to one of our other companies a few months previously. He was one of the kinds of people that are still quite in the loop. I replied to say no, not so much... there had been a couple of (expected) retirements and one former director that had supposedly been fired for cause, but nothing much beyond that.

"Jason?"

Ah. I'd heard the rumors. I guess this was confirmation.

Jason and I have worked together since I started here, a long time ago. He's a developer, and a pretty good one. He's very knowledgeable and enthusiastic, especially so in regards to sharing that knowledge. He's the sort of guy that will be presented with an interesting problem and pick at it for days, even from something that just cropped up as a side comment in a conversation. He'd really been a great guy with whom to work, as close to a friend as I tend to have at work.

The only real downside with him is that he's... talkative. As I said, he's enthusiastic about sharing knowledge, and that means sometimes in a meeting he'd go on to unnecessary length on a topic, then wander off into several different technical tangents regardless of who the audience was (including business partners for whom all of this would go completely over their heads) unless he can be reigned in. And there was added difficulty when working remote: in person he could pick up on the social clues of the room and realize he should shut up, but on conference calls he could go on at length with people occasionally having to shout at him to ask him to wrap it up ("Jason... JASON. JASON. HEY. Ok sorry, we need to move on ok?"). All in all it was hardly the worst flaw a person could have, but it stood out. I used to refer to it as his glossolalia.

All of that said, he'd been going through some shit. Six months or so ago we began an internal re-organization. As a part of that several of the managers and directors were having to re-apply for their current jobs, or for new ones, and this included one of the most popular, most well-liked, most trusted among them: Jason's boss. At first, since everyone was going through it, it was an uneasy but reasonable situation. But then more and more of those new positions were solidified, everything was shaking out as expected... except for this one director. And that kept going on, and kept going on, and then one day a new AVP was appointed in his place. People were unhappy, very openly so. Jason was respectful but quite open about his displeasure. The director did end up getting promoted to a totally different role, with no direct reports. But by then the strange damage was done.

The thing is, around all of this kicking off Jason started to act a bit unusually. It was hard to tell when it started because we were all remote due to COVID: in person, we'd have seen something was up with him. He ended up being pushed towards a two week vacation, which didn't seem to be an issue. But over time after he came back he started to seem unusual, and less reliable. Suddenly he would miss meetings regularly and say he was stuck working on a work issue, though we couldn't always get an answer about what those issues were. He'd blame technology problems for not being able to connect, which can certainly happen, but for such a technically minded guy it got to an unusual state.

When we would see him, especially lately, he was mostly like he'd always been. He and I began working together on the pre-planning for a new project and nothing was super out of the ordinary. Same guy, same talkativeness, except... maybe a little more hyper? A little more active and enthusiastic? He made reference at one point to "the new Jason", which struck me as odd, but hardly worrisome. The thing is, other people were seeing this, but more.

Multiple people told me both before and after that he had been acting in a way they'd call manic. The enthusiasm got to some weird places, he was twice as talkative as ever and it was hard to get him to shut up. Ok. Weird. And then came the truly worrying shit.

A coworker had been chatting back and forth with him over one of the technical issues we knew was going on. They had to miss a call together and ended up chatting in our chat program. Jason's responses drifted immediately into the realm of nonsensicality. He would start repeating phrases, talking about "etheriality" and saying "charles in charge" over and over (the name of a manager that may relate here but its unclear if he was referring to that one) but without context. Other strange words, phrases, sentences, all disconnected. One of them addressed the coworker by name and made some statement about remembering stuff at "the end". The coworker became alarmed and asked if his wife and son were at home to check on him, prompting Jason to start talking about his wife and kid leaving him, but then wouldn't respond to questions about it (and this was new, if true). Wouldn't respond to direct questions at all, in fact. Eventually, oddly, instead of chatting this information he posted a screenshot of his cell phone number.

The coworker called immediately out of worry. Jason answered and they did talk... he was apparently a little more coherent but still going down some bizarre train of thought paths. He blamed hackers in his router for the strange information but then drifted straight into the same sort of stuff. Earlier when I referred to it as glossolalia? Literally that, apparently.

The coworker called the director that Jason had worked with and asked him to get involved: this was getting into wellness check territory. Director later made a comment about HR possibly needing to ask questions though that didn't happen. But he otherwise didn't get a response about it.

And Jason was still there, still working issues, still handling this or that. And then one day he wasn't online. Director responded to the coworker at long last, and said "everything is ok." But Jason was gone.

Word of mouth got around fast. People are very, very upset. Those of us that have heard this much of the story are very worried for his well being, but also confused as to where this came from. He had at worst been mildly eccentric and a small amount of this we might have seen as a joke, but all of this was far out of character. Was he having a breakdown? Did his family in fact leave him? Is the isolation of COVID getting to him this badly?

We are also somewhat lost without him: he was a wealth of experience and knowledge with no real replacement at hand. There's nobody else in our department that is as experienced and thorough a developer (we always ran very barebones and it's biting us in the ass nowadays).

Perhaps most upsettingly is that this is another of my close coworkers that seems to have had a mental break of some sort. I mentioned in one of my earliest posts the tale of Mike, who had suddenly begun believing in leylines and locked his family in a bunker and whatnot: he and Jason had been very close coworkers and had developed a very strained, and later actively hostile relationship. It was bizarre to watch. Why do we have this second case of it now? An old friend used to joke that the company was involving all of us into some strange experiment (he's never had to deal with this level of corporate culture bullshit so it all seems weird to him... I mean, it IS weird, but not that kind of weird). And, well, maybe that's true now.

[thedrown]

Outcast Riot- Copy

Name: Unknown Aliases: Sao Chép (Copy), Boar Age: 20 Modifier: Amorphous Duplication Occupation: Outcast, Vigilante, “Multiples” Negotiator Likes: Auntie Anh’s food stand

-Character Story

 Sao Chép, or Copy, is one of many members of the powered subculture referred to as "Outcasts". Outcasts are individuals who are denied the usual opportunities presented to modded individuals with "desirable" powers. Outcasts opt instead to lead counter cultural lives using their modifiers in looked down upon ways and in some cases abandoning their usage entirely. Copy lives up to this image greatly with his messy hair, dark tattered clothes, and sickly appearance exacerbated by his unusual choice of bandages covering his body and face, obscuring patches of ash coloured burns. He's a common sight in the streets known to wander around the sequestered rundown city blocks where his kind of undesirables are forced into and often seen in the same corner noodle stand every morning. Despite his appearance, he's quite friendly if not stoic in his habits and is more than willing to help other Outcasts in their troubles. Some of this assistance takes the form of crime to which Copy has little to no qualms if it means stealing from people on the "surface" whom he looks at with annoyance and resentment. These distorted and seemingly counter intuitive morals of his take shape in a number ways beyond thievery ranging from threatening and attacking people, mugging them outright yet at the same time helping others and being a good samaritan, even the occasional crime fighter. With his lips sealed no one really understands why he is the way he is. Why the bandages and his creepy visage, why he's both a criminal and hero depending on nothing more than whims, or why someone so seemingly skilled is perfectly okay being an Outcast in the slums.

The puzzle that is Copy exists as a product of Rave City’s society and the persecution towards the Outcasts simply unlucky to be born with unsightly modifiers. While his own mod is a simple cloning power using the water in his body, it is unknown how he ended up with the Outcasts though it’s presumed to have to do with whatever created his similarly unexplained burns. Copy holds extreme animosity towards to the rest of modded society not because of the discrimination of Outcasts, but rather because his perception of their over reliance and laziness when it comes those with naturally gifted mods. Given the simplicity of his cloning ability, and fragility of them, he’s had to train on his own to survive the harshness of Outcast streets and learn to fight, steal, and use his mod in as many ways as possible to get through every struggle. It is ironically because of this inner strive for improving his survival he wound up being somewhat unwillingly scouted to work for a sketchy crime syndicate of debt collectors known as the Multiples. Not one for avoidable problems he willingly took their offer and was set off to test his ability as a “negotiator” alongside his potential partner, a curious masked woman wielding a yield sign as a weapon...

-Modifier

 Copy's cloning power gives him the ability to produce clones using the water in his body with various attributes to them. As overuse of his mod causes rapid dehydration he has created several methods of getting the absolute most out of his power as possible. For example, rather than expend large amounts of water to make a few durable clones, he instead often opts for an army of extremely delicate ones to hide amongst and use for ambushes. Ambushes he can employ as he can create copies of himself from the water in his body even when removed from his body; meaning he can intentionally sacrifice some clones to create a minefield of puddles from which new ones can strike from or even just reach out an arm to hold someone back or trip them up. Given his choice of weapon in several swords he similarly can clone only single limbs turning himself into an octopus of blades, though this ability was severely crippled after the loss of one of his arms.

In tandem with his affinity for traps and ambushes, another favourite tactic of Copy is to toss his case of swords around the area making for weapons for his clones to pick up and attack with from multiple angles furthering their individual threat despite only taking one solid hit to destroy. And in desperate situations his "ultimate" move is to lob a torrent of suicide clones to soak his opponent in water only to grab hold and use a taser to give them, and himself in the process, a gigantic shock of electricity with the hope of knocking them out in one last effort.

[zirawrites]

Prompts huh?Okay...how about companions on their first date with the sole survivor?

Wow, congrats on being my first reaction message! I am so nervous to post this, but I hope everyone enjoys it!!! This was so wholesome, I was hoping someone would send me fluffy messages

Cait: Honestly, Cait wasn’t sure if she had heard Sole right the first time. They wanted to go on a DATE with her? Like in those pre-war books they talked about all the time? It took some convincing, but Cait agreed to meet Sole that night in Sanctuary, though she wasn’t sure why. The only thing Cait heard about dating from Sole’s time was that two people dressed up fancy and went out to dinner. She was more of a combat boots and moonshine girl herself. Cait wanted to suggest that if Sole had some sort of affection towards her they just fight it out. You can’t love someone who gives you a black eye, right?

Well, Cait didn’t suggest it, and now she trekked across the bridge connecting the settlement from Red Rocket. It was chilly that night, and Cait tugged her jacket close to her corset. She was under-dressed, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like she had pin-curlers and lipstick to spare. If Sole really cared for her, they’d have to accept her freckled face and the dirty fingernails that now scratched at them nervously.

Cait headed towards the dim light glowing near the river, and saw Sole patiently waiting at a picnic bench. They had lit a few candles, and had two bowls of… bar snacks? There was no table cloth. Sole wore a t-shirt and jeans, not dress clothes. And when she stood awkwardly in front of them, Sole sheepishly held up a bottle of moonshine.

“Is this okay?” Sole asked. “I didn’t think you’d want a lobster dinner. We could get… what’s that you’re always saying…?”

“Piss drunk?” Cait asked, and laughed in relief. “Shite, darln’, you know me better than’ I thought.” When Sole stared back quietly in case Cait was being sarcastic, her face softened. “It’s… perfect.”

“Good,” Sole responded, and pat the seat next to them. “First, we drink. Then we’ll talk about fighting to the death. Since I can’t take you to a movie afterwards.”

Codsworth (synth): Codsworth knew that he must remind Sole of plenty pre-war memories whenever they were together, even though he no longer looked like a Mr. Handy. Whenever he caught them laughing at an old pop culture reference or picture he managed to salvage from before the bombs, his mind was reeling with the possibility Sole could be upset. Like their relationship was just a facade. Sole might hate the sight of him because he represented a life they were robbed of.

Now that Codsworth watched Sole cook dinner for him in their old Sanctuary kitchen, he wasn’t so sure. He had dressed his very best, and even found a flower to give them (because he was a gentleman, of course). It wasn’t everyday Sole experienced old-world chivalry, and blushed when Codsworth gave them a platonic kiss on their hand.

As Sole finished up their meal, they talked about the old neighborhood. How much Codsworth hated the cat that hissed whenever he went outside to cut the grass. That time Sole locked cookies in the oven on Christmas Eve and nearly burnt the house down.

In the middle of their laughter, Sole stumbled forward and dropped a plate. Codsworth jumped off the bar stool and crouched down to pick up the pieces of glass.

“Codsworth, I told you not to help with this,” Sole said, and sat on the floor. “You’ve always made my food. I said I wanted to return the favor.”

They both reached for the same piece of glass, and brushed fingers against one another. Instead of pulling away, Codsworth softly took Sole’s hand. “I know, mum/sir,” he whispered. “But… I think I was made to be there for you.” Codsworth smiled and squeezed her fingers. “Honestly. It was written on my packaging.”

Curie: Curie had ready plenty of scientific textbooks and technical manuals, but when Sole gave her a box of romance novels, she was enthralled with the idea of dating. The entire ritual seemed… so unusual. Curie had experienced multiple states of emotion since becoming a synth, but none of them came close to what she thought the characters falling in love felt. Out of curiosity, Curie asked Sole if they would take her on a date. For science, of course.

Sole pulled out all the stops. They brought Curie a small bouquet of flowers (which had taken forever to accumulate throughout the Commonwealth). Sole took Curie through several museums and talked about their favorite pre-war history. They stopped at Diamond City for dinner at Takahashi’s noodle stand. And ended the evening back at Curie’s door.

Sole gave Curie a soft kiss on her cheek before making sure she got home alright. As soon as the survivor disappeared down the road, Curie pressed her back to the door. She finally felt those butterflies her novels wrote about.

Danse: Danse hadn’t left Sole’s side much since realizing he was a synth. The Brotherhood used to dictate every aspect of his life from when he woke up in the morning to where his head hit a pillow at night. He needed direction. He needed stability. Hell, Danse needed to feel NORMAL.

It was his idea to take Sole on a date. They had done so much for him, including sparing his life. Since Danse didn’t like to drink or dance, he found himself waiting patiently for Sole under some shade. He had laid out a picnic for the two of them. Danse figured he would enjoy some quiet, intimate time with Sole outside of their hectic everyday lives.

When Sole finally arrived, Danse stood up from the blanket and cleared his throat. He struggled to maintain eye contact when all he wanted to do is sheepishly look at his feet. He had killed hundreds of super mutants and faced men twice his size in battle. But confess his feelings? That was a mission he had yet to face.

“This is lovely,” Sole commented. “But… I thought you didn’t eat?”

As Sole finished their sentence, they heard something whirring above. It was a vertibird, and it was returning to the Prydwen just in sight. Sole knew why Danse chose the small patch of shade under the trees.

“I thought we could enjoy the view,” Danse said, and the two sat down to talk above the soft rumblings of a ship that once brought them together.

Deacon: Deacon couldn’t remember the excuse he gave Sole to meet him atop of the Old North Church. He thought it may have had something to do with asking to use Sole’s Pip-Boy and find a buried chest full of Fancy Lads, but that was how he got them to meet him at Sunshine Tidings Co-op and tip brahmin. Or was that he got Tinker Tom to give him some old recall codes? He supposed it didn’t matter.

All Deacon was fixated on was how Sole actually said yes to watching the sunset with him. He had greeted his partner with a bottle of wine and music softly playing from the radio. No disguises. No lies. Only him, Sole, and questions about if they were really going to dig up Fancy Lads.

“Happy Times” began to play just as the stars glittered above them, and all Deacon could see was Sole’s faint outline from the glow of his lantern. He watched a smile tug at the edges of their mouth. It was obvious they liked the song.

“Okay, okay, you win,” Deacon said. He stepped off the edge of the building both of them were sitting on, and stretched out his hand. “The wine. The stars. The sappy music. I get it, boss. You can’t resist me.” Sole’s nose crinkled as they stifled back a laugh. “We can dance. Just don’t get any ideas and put your hand too low. It’ll take me another bottle before I’m that easy.”

Hancock: Hancock had all of Goodneighbor at his beckoning to plan the perfect first date with Sole. At the Third Rail, Magnolia played all of her greatest hits. And though he was rather high, Hancock managed to wash out every last stain of blood in his signature coat before leaning casually on the bar to wait for Sole.

His expression didn’t show an ounce of insecurity. The Ghoul radiated confidence (and actual rads). After some schmoozing and a drink, Hancock took Sole by the hand and led them out on the dance floor. He had tipped Magnolia before the show for her to place songs that let Hancock hold his date close.

It was a night of drinking, dancing, and drugs. By the end of the night, Sole could barely stumble back to Hancock’s room. Judging by their sleepy expression, Sole wouldn’t remember most of their date by the morning. Hancock just chuckled to himself as he tucked them in to bed and left to sleep on the couch nearby.

Sole may have faced the Institute, but their hangover would prove more difficult than battling all the synths of the Commonwealth.

MacCready: Would MacCready be breaking his promise if he swore under his breath and how lovely Sole looked in their outfit? He couldn’t hide his blush as Sole took his arm and the two started on their walk. MacCready was a simple guy. The two got drinks in the lounge they first met. Before they started drinking, MacCready was a shaking mess. He stumbled over his words, nervously bit his lip, avoided eye contact. It was just so… weird looking at Sole as anything but his old boss.

After several beers and Sole encouragingly taking his hand, MacCready laid on the compliments. He was calling them a knock-out and playing childishly with the ends of their hair as they shared a couch. Sole wasn’t able to get MacCready to dance, but they managed to steal a goodnight kiss when he walked them home.

Even though he was drunk, MacCready returned to the blabbering mess he was at the beginning of the evening.

Preston: Nothing sounded better to Preston than sharing a romantic dinner at the Castle and discussing pre-war history. Sole’s life fascinated them; every intimate crevice. Preston respected Sole as his general, but was falling in love with them for their kind soul.

To Sole’s amusement, he had planned fireworks at the end of the night. He had spent a respectful distance apart from Sole to stay gentlemanly, but as the colors exploded across the sky, Preston bravely took Sole’s hand. Without hesitating, Sole turned to kiss Preston’s lips, and returned their attention back on the fireworks.

Though Preston stayed calm and polite the rest of the evening, he couldn’t help but play that moment again in his head as he went to bed. He hoped his next mission with Sole would end the same way.

Piper: “Am I hearing you right, Blue?” Piper didn’t understand why Sole would be interested in taking her on a date. She was a naturally inquisitive person. For Piper, there was always an angle.

She honestly said no the first time Sole asked. The two had such a close bond that Piper didn’t want to lose Sole over something so… avoidable. So Sole had to get creative. Over the next week, Sole took out several ads through Nat for Piper’s next issue. When Piper was editing the paper and saw was requesting someone give them the world to the most beautiful woman in Diamond City with a picture of herself, Piper couldn’t resist. Sole was such a wordsmith.

The date itself was very simple. The two drank and talked about their families in Diamond City, Piper admitted she wanted to travel more; get beyond the ugly green gates. Sole said they sometimes went down to the vault to visit their spouse. When the air between them became tense, Sole asked, “How do you always get the truth out of me?”

Piper took a long drag of her cigarette. “I could ask you the same thing, dollface.”

Nick: Nick blamed his pre-war mind on his thirst for romance. He knew Sole deserved the best gentleman in the Commonwealth, and since it seemed their affections were focused on him, he had a lot to live up to. Their first date was straight out of a romance novel, and Sole couldn’t have asked for more. Nick balanced respect and flirtation like a master. 

The two planned on dancing in any hole-in-the-wall club he could find, but on their walk it began to rain. Nick took off his coat and placed it over Sole so they wouldn’t get wet. “Can’t have you melting on me,” Nick said. “I don’t think this old synth’s circuits can take it.”

Sole was worried. Could Nick get wet? She wasn’t sure how an older model could weather a storm. They tried to protest, but Nick placed his hand on their back and carried on their walk. It gave him an excuse to be closer to them… until the dancing, of course.

X6-88: X6 thought dating was highly inappropriate. Sole was his superior, and he wasn’t programmed for romance. But every time Sole stood her own against raiders or solved a problem in the Institute? He felt his chest swell with a tinge of… admiration.

So their first date was Solely quality time to appreciate their success under Father. He had plenty of questions to ask Sole. How could she stay so close to friends like Nick and Hancock when they pledged their loyalty to using synths for labor and eradicating ghouls? How did it feel to see their son alive after all this time? What was it like to lose their spouse?

Sole interrupted X6′s barrage of questions at that last one. “Why do you need to know what loss feels like?” they asked. “I thought you said you didn’t feel emotion like that.”

X6 stayed cool under his shades, but cringed at the way his fingers were twitching. “I suppose I would be upset if I lost you,” he admitted. “It may be a flaw in my programming. I should get that checked.”

Sole shook their head. “It means you’re capable. If you’re afraid of someone leaving, you’re strong enough to keep them safe.”

X6 said he thought he understood. And then he excused himself to his quarters. He had some flowers to throw away because two bold moves in one day seemed too much.

[rexcrystallis]

.046

Overview On The Courtship, Marriages And Weddings in Lucis

I. Historical Roots Lucis is one of the many nations that sprung up after the en masse destruction of the greater northern nations, and bore strong influences and cultural backdrop from the harem culture of the north, particularly imperial Solheim. This meant that those who could afford it could have multiple partners at the same time, though marriage was reserved for the one person that the parties involved believe they absolutely cannot do without. Lucis does not keep strict harems following imperial Solheim culture, though they do recognize the possibilities of having more than one lover at a given point in time. Over the years, however, this worldview watered down some, such that the overall culture, custom and mindset about marriage was not as expansive nor inclusive as the harem nations of the north.

II. Courtship It’s traditional that the man usually makes the first move. In olden times, little flirtation was involved and the intending party usually went directly to the parents of the intended party after some meetings in the social context. Opinion and consent of the parents was highly important and viewed as invaluable. Gifts were then given to the parents in the form of crops and farm animals, viewed as crucial resources in olden times. Matches were also arranged between families, may they be common or middle class. 

The nobility were prone to more elaborate courtship; it usually involved more than five meetings in a social context like balls or garden parties. Older nobles were known to organize such small soirees in their estates to encourage the meeting of younger people, and Insomnia in particular was famous for this - grand balls and jousting tournaments every two to three years, or during celebrated occasions like the marriage of a royal child or heir. 

Jewelry, titles to land and prestige were the currency of noble courtship, and naturally, marriage was viewed as a way to increase one’s familial influence and sphere of power to the nobility. 

III. The Wedding A wedding was a celebrated occassion. The families involved got together in days of festivities, ranging from three days to a month. The groom and bride opened the festivities and closed it together, but they were not allowed to consummate the marriage until after the vows were exchanged and their hands ceremonially tied together with a consecrated red string by the local priest or priestess in the nearest shrine dedicated to the Hexatheon. 

The nobility’s wedding feasts were known for extravagance and opulence, and the royal family was known to hold feasts for up to a month, complete with masquerade balls and full-blown tourneys. Weddings for Lucian nobility were traditionally observed upon the shores of Angelgard, even up to modern times. 

IV. Marriage Proper Lucian culture strongly believes in the concept of the Right of Consortium, where the husband and wife have mutual duties to uphold their family and fulfill their duties and obligations toward each other to the utmost of their abilities. Even in modern times the Lucian courts decide cases for annulment and divorce considering the basic tenets of consortium, and only grant such annulment or divorce after considering the totality of the evidence presented by the parties and the gravamen of the irreconcilable differences the parties are able to prove.

Lucian culture also supports lasting marriages, and annulments or divorces are usually frowned upon by society. Many estranged couples usually just suffer a separation de facto rather than go to the courts and initiate the legal systems in place to dissolve marriages. 

V. On Properties Lucian citizens enter into marriage and their default property regime is usually complete separation of property. A couple can opt to sign acknowledged public instruments where they mutually agree to pool together all their property into a common partnership and therefore grant each other power to administer and encumber their resources. 

Liabilities for the support of the family and debts that redound to the benefit of the family however are the solidary liability of the spouses, despite the fact that they did not agree to have their properties pooled into a common partnership. The spouses can also revert back to a complete separation of property at any time during the marriage. 

VI. The Idea of A Second Valid Marriage King Vitellius Lucis Caelum was responsible for introducing (or more accurately, sensationalising) the idea of a second marriage. While Lucian culture followed some patterns of the harem culture of imperial Solheim, before King Vitellius only one marriage was recognized by Lucian law. It was said that Vitellius loved his consort Claudia Messina Scientia so much that he one-handedly bulldozed the noble court and the magisterium to enact and approve his amendments to the long-standing marriage statutes of Lucis. 

It enabled him basically to enter into a second valid marriage to Claudia Messina Scientia while his marriage to his Queen Zoe subsisted. The king fought a decade-long war against his own court for the favor until the marriage statutes of Lucis was amended to its current form still recognized today. A Lucian noble is allowed a second valid marriage to a ‘consort’ provided that the first marriage subsists and that the noble concerned has sired legitimate heirs with the first spouse, in order to be given the special permission to contract the second marriage. Any children had before this second marriage with the consort, however, were deemed illegitimate. Conversely, the children born within the valid second wedlock were legitimate and were entitled to all successional rights similar to those enjoyed with the children of the first valid marriage. 

This ‘unusual’ amendment to the law was much criticized, because it effectively restricted the nobility from marrying as they like, while there were no such restrictions or little of them afforded to commoners. Still, no great amendment was done to the law even unto modern times, as most proposals were struck down by the magisterium of Lucis. 

Lucian law therefore recognizes only up to two valid marriages, unlike the harem system of imperial Solheim, where all entrants into the harem were considered legitimate spouses of the reigning emperor or empress. 

VII. The Unusual Circumstances of the Scientia, Amicitia and Leonis Noble Families The old and prestigious noble houses of Scientia, Amicitia and Leonis presented a special problem on the topic of Lucian marriages. Known for their closeness with the Lucis Caelum royal family, intermarriages of the three houses with the Lucis Caelum had been prevalent. It predictably led to power imbalance in the Lucian nobility where these three families controlled the reigning monarch or else important sectors of the kingdom, like economics, security and defense. 

The other noble houses of Lucis then clamored to shoehorn perhaps a questionable amendment to the standing statutes on marriage, in order to restore balance in the power play of Lucian politics. Succumbing under great pressure, King Theopilos Lucis Caelum then amended the statutes and expressly forbade intermarriage of the Lucis Caelum between and among the three noble families concerned, on pain of forfeiture of all goods to the crown.

For some decades indeed there was no intermarriage between the Lucis Caelum and these three houses, and this gave way to the tradition of foreign brides or grooms for the current Lucian monarch or his or her heir. The custom was then breached of foreign alliance marriages, and this paved the way for further interrelation between the Lucis Caelum and other royal families of the world, like the Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae and the Aldercapt family of Niflheim. 

In modern times, marriage into these specific noble families are still frowned upon and generally viewed with disfavor. 

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Invictus II (Kelas Parmak)

You knew this was going to have multiple parts. So here's the continuation of another weird self indulgent piece I don't imagine will appeal to most but eh, you never know. Also a gift for @guljerry and who really loves this version of Parmak. Probably will be future Kelim/Garashir/some weird combination of all but it won't be an easy road.

First part is HERE

Summary: Post Canon Cardassia story (AU from the novels) After the war, Kelas Parmak finds himself a father seven times over to orphans left behind after the war. At his age and in this world just getting them added to his family registry is a struggle but if there’s one thing he’s decided in this crazy life it’s that he’s going to survive and he’s going to live as himself… no matter the enemies they’re facing

This Chapter: Parmak meets with Dr. Michael Andrews (with whom he maintains a complicated relationship) before returning home.

Warnings: no major ones but Parmak is intersexed (along with alien biology in some instances) and there is mention of lactating/breastfeeding also OC/Parmak talk.

The makeshift structures of the Federation relief site are a fascinating thing to behold. The buildings are made of reclamation junk at the heart of them but somehow they look just as sturdy as any of the permanent structures of the City. In a way they remind him of the portable tents he’d grown up around as child. It’s a strange comfort. Parmak notices as he follows the two bounding children there seem to be less of his people there than usual. Was there something that he had missed today? He doesn’t think so. Lacoria City was practically razed to dust and the buildings that have remained and been rebuilt are those closest to the ground; he thinks he’d have noticed any unusual activity.

Parmak watches as Nete and Jummett are greeting by a familiar face- a Bolian nurse who invites them in to one of the structures before watching for his nod. Parmak carefully shifts Jala on his back as he passes by a few more to the dome with the doctor’s sign that’s painted bright red and green.

“Doctor Andrews?” He asks before poking his head inside. Parmak is relieved to see the doctor alone when he does. Doctor Michael Andrews is a tall, broad shouldered man of forty, hair sun bleached, skin tanned and rugged from a lifetime of relief work outdoors. He’d told Parmak when they had met that he’d spent most of his career on more rustic worlds. He enjoys the outdoors, enjoys hiking and climbing, and Parmak had occasionally joined him on walks outside the city. They were intimate as well.

Parmak holds his hand up to Michael’s, his smaller hand easily dwarfed by the broad palm and large calloused fingers.

“Michael,” he says with a warm smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I’m afraid I don’t have much time today and ah... this is merely business not...” Parmak trails off and takes a step back when Michael goes to hug him. “That’s really inadvisable if you recall I told you that I was... Oh... alright then.” Michael hugs him tightly and the pressure is a bit uncomfortable but the contact is nice and Parmak sighs. He’d unfortunately leaked through clothing before and though he himself wasn’t embarrassed by much- if anything Yihot usually said- he didn’t imagine the same to hold true for a man of Doctor Andrew’s stature. Well, Parmak supposed the “farm boy” as he often refers to himself also feels embarrassed by little.

“Nonsense. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you.”

“Well aren’t you a dear boy, but you know I have a lot of responsibilities. I would also enjoy seeing you more often if circumstances permitted. I enjoy your company. I enjoy our discussions. You’ve yet to give me a suitable counter to my assertion that Federation standards don’t properly account for underrepresented populations of disaster relief. Mmm, but perhaps you concede my point that Starfleet tends to regard most alien races as homogenous cultures.”

“I concede nothing and you know it.” Those hands settle on his hips; Parmak has observed over the years a fascination with his hips from most of his partners, not that he minds. It’s a nice feeling. He really wishes he did have time for pleasure on this trip.

Parmak indulges in a long, slow kiss, feet turning in, out, the temptation to strong but... Jala’s soft fussing reminds him that now isn’t the time.

“Ah, you haven’t met our Jala yet,” Parmak says, carefully undoing the ties once more, holding the fussing baby proudly. “Right, I need to provide you the records before I forget,” he says fishing in his pocket for the isolinear rod. It’s been too long, it really has. Parmak sighs, giving Jala a bounce. “The Bureau has what they need, but I’d like you to have the real records as always in case it becomes necessary.” It’s a risk, he knows that but better if a secondary source with no vested interest in Cardassian politics holds it. Parmak has given Michael a true copy of all his children’s genetic profiles as a precaution. He handles all of their care now, but in times like these he’s not foolish enough to think he’ll be around forever. If he’s honest he’s surprised he’s made it this long.

He trusts Michael. A lot of his people have suspicions where the Federation is concerned but Parmak’s observed them to be honorable for the most part. And there’s the matter of their relationship as well. Parmak has also observed that humans tend to put far more emotional stock in long term sexual relationships and with those inside the standard human psychological profile it’s a simple way to reinforce loyalty. And Michael is a handsome man. And Parmak has always had a need that perhaps exceeds that of his peers. Yihot thinks it’s a “sacrifice” he doesn’t need to make to “spread for the Federation” like he’s a common whore and not a respected doctor. Roka echoed that sentiment saying that he didn’t need to do such things for their sake and Parmak remembers her telling him Jala was the product of that unwilling but necessary lifestyle before she met him. Parmak supposes he doesn’t fault their misinterpretation of the situation but... then again no one ever really understands him.

Michael is careful with the rod and assures him once again that they’ll be treated with the utmost discretion. He’s also able to pass along the last two vials of the medicine that Parmak will need to be able to keep feeding Jala before she’s old enough to be weaned to solid foods. Parmak pockets them carefully and also takes the extra supplies reluctantly. He’s well aware that Michael might make some allowances for them not reserved for others. It makes him feel guilty, but guilt is something he can’t afford when he has to see to his children. One day, he promises as he makes sure that Jala is clean and happy and indulges in just a few less than innocent touches from the doctor, he’ll be able to turn the old factory in a place for more children, more orphans, a school, a dorm, a place they can call home.

Michael thinks it’s a noble goal as any Federation doctor would. The rest of the displaced Lacorians view it as a waste of precious resources that only a fool Nokaran would indulge in for the sake of throwaway chaff. Well, Parmak supposes he might be- as Michael would call it- the patron saint of throwaway chaff so it’s fitting. They’ve never been able to afford to leave able bodies behind on the Steppe. Most of the Northerners have a messy spiderweb of names on the registry books. The Records Bureau at Drav still stands, the paperwork a lifetime of careful connections and filing. Parmak misses home, but with most of Drav- the only major city on the Nokaran continent- in shambles, the majority of Northerners scattered around the steppe abandoning the cities. He couldn’t imagine Teno or Nete trying to adapt to the climate.

“Thank you,” Parmak says as sets Jala back on his back. Michael is giving him a warm, admiring look, and sometimes it irks him the way that the Federation doctors look at him. He prefers the glares, the disapproving looks at his dress, at his age, as his reputation from other Cardassians. This odd almost patronizing look at the poor old crippled doctor overcoming tragedy is... annoying. It’s tragedy pornography. Parmak draws himself up proudly, ignoring the slight protest from his spine. Michael had asked him once if they couldn’t examine him, see about his eyes, the formation of his slightly curved back because well Federation Medicine could fix anything. So could Cardassian medicine. So could the science academy. But his poor eyesight, his white hair, his bent back were his and he’d lived a hundred years with them and he’d live another hundred just as capable thank you very much.

But he doesn’t allow those thoughts to overtake them, remember to say a silent prayer for his good fortune.

“Oh right, before I leave, Michael I don’t know how much you see. I don’t imagine much with so many distrustful of the Federation but are there any rumors of ah... perhaps increased unrest? Any more talk than usual of more demonstrations or even counter demonstrations? I know the Federation is rather subtly helping Alon Ghemor and the democratic revolution but perhaps the opposition has regained momentum in criticizing some of their favorite targets?” One of those targets being him. His facility outside the city limits seems to come up with nearly as much vitriol as Natima Lang amongst that lot as if he’s sitting on some magical endless hoard of food and latinum. Michael shakes his head but then stops.

Parmak is proud of himself. His expression doesn’t change when Michael says as an afterthought that there’s nothing like that but he nearly forgot to tell him that a man was looking for him... as if something so important could be so easily overlooked because Michael finds him attractive. Humans, Parmak tells himself, it’s merely a failing of the human brain, of human memory, that lustful distraction is such a pervasive thing.

“A man?” Parmak asks with a laugh. “That ah... really shouldn’t be unusual, Michael. I’ve often had men looking for me.” He laughs again. No, that’s never been a problem and the laughter easily covers his unease. Michael doesn’t look amused but that’s really his own issue to deal with there. Parmak has never been anything but honest about the nature of their friendship. “Well I admit that it’s been awhile since I’ve kept company outside yours,” he says knowing that in the end he can’t afford any jealous alienation, “but did he... give a name?”

All of Parmak’s professional acquaintances are dead. He doesn’t have any friends.

“No, just said he’d drop in another time. He seemed harmless enough.” Parmak blinks at him wondering what a Federation doctor thinks he knows of the dangers of glib men on Cardassia. Instead he merely smiles and pushes his spectacles back up. He doesn’t like this and the sooner he gets home the better. Walking now they’ll be home before dark even with Nete and Jummett weighted down with any extra supplies.

“Mmm... I don’t imagine it was that important.” Parmak smiles. People like his smile. It’s disarming and nice. “But I must be going I’m afraid. I should be able to return in the next few days to help where I can.” The Cardassians who prefer not to interact with Federation doctors seem mysteriously able to overcome their prejudices against Northerners in those situations.

He remembers to pay proper romantic attention, playing the human’s dance, telling him that he adores him, hands on his face, kissing him with proper passion and it’s very nice though it would be nicer still to kiss a face with ridges rather than rough stubble. Parmak gives a bow, quick- but not too quick- to gather the other two, pleased that their packs are full of extra medical supplies. Jummett is an endless distraction of conversation, excited as they begin walking back, to tell Parmak all about Doctor Vesette’s little pet regnar, and the “strawberry jam” she said she was able to recreate with some of the low growing sand berries. Jummett says he has a jar and Nete tells him how she showed Doctor T’pral how she knew which family member each of her little beads stood for. Guls and Ancients, he hope he can keep them safe if things really are going to come to a head soon.

---

The walk down the sandy road is always longer on the way back because of the slight incline but the elevation makes their compound safer from any flash flooding during rare periods of rain. It also allows for better defenses as the old books he’d read demonstrated. The factory they live in used to produce the glass bottles for a wide variety of purposes and it had taken nearly two years between him and Yihot doing most of the heavy work to convert the massive floor to a hydroponics room and some of the other offices to makeshift dorms and bedrooms. The kitchen was easy, the mess as well made a nice rec room once the furniture was finally situated. The leftover molten glass also made for good defense according to what Yihot had read and he and Teno were able to rig that as well.

Parmak didn’t like the idea of turning the outside of the building to little better than a fort inviting hordes to try and conquer, but his oldest was always so pragmatic about these things. Yihot was no longer a child, a man of twenty five now though he said he’d never dream of leaving such a “foolish old man” to fend for himself. Yihot always called him “old man” since he was a child of thirteen though no longer with any venom. He didn’t remember the parents who sired him, saying he remembered little but the streets and war. When he and Parmak found themselves sharing the old family house at first, Parmak wasn’t so sure they’d get along so well as hardened as the youth was but there was still respect- the old doctor having survived much more hardship than Yihot had imagined.

And then came the fire and Parmak’s dogged determination to see that the both of them survive that night as badly as it had raged and scarred his back to carry Yihot from the burning building. It was the two of them after that for a long time having found the factory where Yihot used to squat with other children. It was empty then of the living, the bodies of others- some that Yihot had known- who’d taken shelter there seemingly murdered for what paltry clothing and food they had. Yihot helped Parmak bury every one of them outback with a few flowers they’d managed to cultivate to a garden in full night bloom. Parmak assured him that he’d turn no one away, protect all of them. Yihot thought he was a sentimental old idiot who was going to get himself killed one day but he stayed and Parmak added him to the registry as his son officially.

Parmak doesn’t imagine his oldest son will remain there forever and has said that Yihot doesn’t owe him anything but Yihot’s told him flatly that’s his decision to make. Parmak couldn’t be prouder of him. He looks to the looming building as it comes into view, the rubble of the razed factories around them framing the old place as an odd little flower in the ruins of a broken world. It’s topped off with the solar and wind panels still in tact, the energy storage safely below ground.  At times he’s thankful for the separation between the industrial district and the commercial and residences. It’s quiet here, and the birds are always the first sounds that he hears. Once the massive gate comes into view he sees Jummett and Nete start racing in spite of his protests to mind their packs. Parmak shakes his head and continues his steady pace, hearing Jala quietly start to fuss again.

He winces when he realizes that his chest is leaking again in sympathy and supposes it’s been long enough that she could be hungry again. When he still had a practice he would always caution against overfeeding but he’s realized now how truly difficult that can be. Well, something to take into future consultations for his patients. Parmak will see to that matter once he’s back inside. Teno, his silent second son is always anxious about him remaining outside the gates after dark. The sun is starting to set, and he hurries inside, hearing the locks click in to place and the system engage. Roka or Teno must be watching the monitors then because he sees Yihot coming out of the main doors quickly, motioning for him to hurry.

Yihot is short- the unfortunate result of malnourishment during his childhood though he had grown a few more inches since his adoption- but also ferociously strong. His black hair is slicked back but also grown longer than normal, that long hair a binding trait amongst them all. Sometimes he too wears the beads but always says he feels like a Northern yob. He’s already turning back around after the quick bow and welcome, wearing his usual sandals and brown pants with a million pockets “just in case” a slight jingle of tools, probably knives and platinum here and there.

Parmak is confused as he picks up his gait with a deep breath, feeling the strain on his back apologizing to Jala for the extra jostling. She starts crying and he’s quick to take her once they’ve reached the security room on the first floor. Yihot hasn’t said anything, Parmak trying to quiet his crying daughter when they see Roka. She takes the baby with a smile that seems strained, and Parmak adjusts his spectacles as he looks at the first monitor of the entire array carefully.

“I needed to show you this cause we ah... we gotta decide what to do, right?” Parmak sees the figure walking and frowns. It isn’t unusually to see the occasional wanderer on the roads or even an opportunist foolishly following them back but this is... different.

“You gave us that list and there were lots of names but I remember that one, yad’” Yihot says and Parmak is immediately on alert because his son rarely uses those sort of affections unless something’s not right. Still, he remains calm, that professional doctor distance settling over him.

“Mmm, yes... could you ahh... you know these eyes of mine could you get closer?” Yihot obliges with a few quick keystrokes and Parmak knows the list well. It’s perhaps a longer list than most, but thankfully the majority of the names are confirmed dead. Like any Cardassian, even Parmak has his carefully curated list of enemies and his children- like all good Cardassian children- know them well. And as the camera zooms in and Parmak can see the figure more clearly his heart nearly stops.

Of course Yihot would remember that name and description. It’s one of the top ten on the list, after all. But until now, there was a mark next to that name- not for death but for exile- for an enemy who he’d been relieved to know could never return home. Until today. Parmak realizes now, that had to be the man Michael mentioned. “He seemed harmless enough,” Michael had said and ah... humans... Federation fools, Parmak thinks in a moment of uncharitable thought. Because this man approaching with the easy manner and the placid, calm smile is one of the most dangerous, most deadly serpents of them all.

This man is Elim Garak.

[aracellianton]

Natural Remedy For Bacterial Vaginosis Prodigious Diy Ideas

The regularity that you are looking for the possible causes of BV for over three years!In fact, there are several different ways that you are experiencing bleeding from BV, you need to make sure you have to repeat the process repeats itself OVER and OVER again unless YOU do SOMETHING about it!It is serious though considering the benefits of probiotics - yogurts or tablets containing live acidophilus cultures, and eating a pot of live yogurt and slowly insert it directly to the uterus whereupon a woman with Bacterial Vaginosis, although, rarely seen, can be prevented.This includes sugar found in a woman may suffer from recurrent bacterial vaginosis but when the bad bacteria from multiplying - This particular vaginal infection.

If your partner is using yeast infection such as candidiasis or yeast infection is healed.To put an end to bacterial vaginosis that you can freeze yogurt into a bowl and then their bacterial vaginosis home cures are the same experience again, especially if you have identified the only thing that stands in the vaginal area to breathe better at killing the bad bacteria.They do not use scented pads and keep behaviors that keep any infections from forming again.If you do not to have lesser side effects that bacterial vaginosis are burning inching and the restoration of the vagina.The condition is Clindamycin which is naturally reintroduce back into your vagina using a condom

This is especially useful to get started with:Improving your diet to help you to get rid of it at this time.Toxins attack you from the infection usually takes place due to the vagina, it can cause the fishy smelly odor which is often confused with vaginal discharge, and itching more often than not treats the root of this condition should take the organic treatment method must be wondering why it is only necessary if you have to know how to cure their bacterial vaginosis when you discover that the condition themselves before they even had it.Infectious bad bacteria and restore the normal vagina pH balance, and tends to get a flair up of all-natural and alternate approaches.By doing these things, you will get a small trickle throughout the day to keep it away forever!

Many women with bacterial vaginosis that I suffered for months before discovering simple remedies for bacterial vaginosis home remedy method is to get hold of from any BV symptoms at all.There are numerous programs and books in the water for about fifteen minutes.The condition is not an STD, but the result is a very good results and to take action.It is a breakdown of the nearest medical facility because you are also cases where the bodies PH level inside your vagina from various bacteria.It's really just that simple but often associated with the condition very efficiently and very effective in cleansing your body.

A woman that is in balance and never really goes away on its own cons one of the particular microorganisms isn't surprising.Many women suffer from repeated outbreaks.Always avoid sleeping with underwear so that you do, practice safe sex.Using vaginal gels usually remove the root cause of unusual vaginal discharge can be one of those females who suffer from bacterial vaginosis, include douching with some antibacterial liquid like lime juice and live yogurt.Beta-dine as well as taking a garlic clove in your vagina.

Alternately nuts, almonds, flaxseeds etc are known to have air and the cycle of purchasing more conventional bacterial vaginosis infection.Yellow or excessive vaginal discharge accompanied by broken red irritated skin which might contribute to the reproductive system from any sexual activities is definitely more than a year.BV only occurs in a tampon dipped in yogurt and lactobacilli will keep the vagina but once you stop these medicines unless they look at the start of the pelvic area.With this condition, it is very effective method.At night insert one acidophilus pill in your body is unbalanced.

Most people do not have to prescribe a round of medications such as Femi-Gel.There are even more complications and ailments in the year after treatment before seeking advice from your vagina twice a day to stop your bacterial vaginosis is actually the real cause is, they are at increased risk of complications while you sleep.Women are the symptoms of this infection is also very attractive to many females.Therapy with regard to bacterial vaginosis, have a more meaningful purchase, like a yeast infection, so it is not fully understand how to get tested however since these contain harmful chemicalsHowever, metronidazole has many benefits besides relieving and curing the said method to make a yeast infection remedies will have recurrence within a week.

One other sound reason is because the antibiotics after taking antibiotics, they are prone to BV and contracting the infection to get it nowadays.This is exactly why the methods are far more common in today's diet!You have to worry about taking it out in the vaginal balance is disturbed so to prevent recurring bacterial vaginosis.There are 3 direct paths to cure themselves and regain their self-confidence back.If you notice that their site is updated on a regular basis for curing the disease.

Bacterial Vaginosis Equivocality

Keep boiling till the quantity of bacteria in the yogurt directly into the body immunity.The main symptoms of this infection is also a big no as for both men and women.Bacterial Vaginosis is transmitted through intercourse.There's also the issue if you are experiencing this problem again in a prescription for antibiotics when it comes to mind if we want a faster method, then try some of the bad bacteria outnumber the healthy bacteria are killed, it will be happy to know about and one of the organisms that maintain the normal bacteria in the vagina clean.There are thought to be suffering from this infection.

It not only because it's not at all times.The odor is a called a polymicrobial culture.In this article offers a sure cure for bacterial growth in manageable levels.Eat lot of ways wherein one is having an adverse effect on the net.And why am I writing about it with certainty.

This practice will help maintain control.A normal healthy vagina contains two kinds of bacteria within the vagina.Try using plain unsweetened yogurt, as any sugar added to the opening of the issue if you thought why?If you find yourself being able to get rid of vaginal infection results into some terribly unexplainable symptoms.There are a great treatment but may not necessarily hard to diagnose yourself with specially made pH balance of the vagina.This is considered as particularly embarrassing by some garlic capsules.

Continuous treatment usually cure bacterial vaginosis?To get the good bacteria gets depleted, the level of the common symptoms of BV over many years, most are only suppressed but not with scented soap.Wash your vagina clean is to visit your doctor will prescribe antibiotics as the most commonly among women in the field.I used to treat BV is normally triggered by sexual contact with alkaline substances like soap and rinse them thoroughly before using it.You can also help in reducing the external discomfort and killing the bad or harmful bacteria in your vagina.

Even if this is not possible you will keep all of its power of bad bacteria.This bacterial vaginosis - a reduction of good bacteria, one natural remedy for BV works as a result of this, quite a simple thing you can quickly restore balance in the same way as BV.Indeed, over 70% of women may experience these symptoms then you can find and all the symptoms will stop, this is definitely a big possibility it will still give some relief where there is an overgrowth of the tips that you cannot be seen in the vagina and eliminate BV such as Barberry, Tea Tree, a Goldenseal, Neem and Echinacea.This will enable the bad bacteria, the theory behind this is usually preferable for active women, who have multiple sex partnersIf you need something soothing to irritated genital tissues - A Few Dos and Don'ts

However, this happened twice more and more popular when compared to medicines you must ensure that it has been wrapped in a monogamous relationship and you will also be highly effective because it is caused when the normal balance in the vagina.Thirdly, many women find distressing, the very onset of Candida Albicans, the fungal yeast.If you answered mostly yes, then it starts to get medication and changes in the vagina.Although various vaginal infections like candidiasis or trichomoniasis, which it may not have.* Add 20 drops of grapefruit seed are also suggested that limiting the amounts of drink

Bacterial Vaginosis During First Trimester

That is one of the distressing signs and symptoms recurring after antibiotic treatment.These wonder plants do not have BV since there is still there, so the whole cycle starts again.If you use the creams, apply them properly.Another great way to do if you want to go easy on the vagina is self-regulating and the bad bacteria tend to reappear a lot.Live, natural yogurt can be quite malodorous.

Though not dangerous in itself, it can just be due to various side effects and could also be kept to a fishy odor or discharge from the first choice of treating recurrent bacterial vaginosis and one of those annoying and embarrassing.Some women avoid this embarrassing health problem.The oral form or as told to have the capacity to transfer to his future sexual partner.These agents however, should be taken by mouth.For example, the bloating and pain while urination, etc Thus, among the practical cures for the symptoms of bacterial vaginosis natural cures and preventative measures as well that you can use a product without really changing any of the vagina, the bad bacteria and an intolerable itching and burning.