#additional benefits negotiation

[racefortheironthrone]

Hi- er, this is my first-ever writer's strike, how does one not cross a picket line in this context? I know how not to do it with things like Amazon and IRL strikes, but how does it apply to media/streaming?

Hi, this is a great question, because it allows me to write about the difference between honoring a picket line and a boycott. (This is reminding me of the labor history podcast project that's lain fallow in my drafts folder for some time now...) In its simplest formulation, the difference between a picket line and a boycott is that a picket line targets an employer at the point of production (which involves us as workers), whereas a boycott targets an employer at the point of consumption (which involves us as consumers).

So in the case of the WGA strike, this means that at any company that is being struck by the WGA - I've seen Netflix, Amazon, Apple, Disney, Warner Brothers Discovery, NBC, Paramount, and Sony mentioned, but there may be more (check the WGA website and social media for a comprehensive list) - you do not cross a picket line, whether physical or virtual. This means you do not take a meeting with them, even if its a pre-existing project, you do not take phone calls or texts or emails or Slacks from their executives, you do not pitch them on a spec script you've written, and most of all you do not answer any job application.

Because if this strike is like any strike since the dawn of time, you will see the employers put out ads for short-term contracts that will be very lucrative, generally above union scale - because what they're paying for in addition to your labor is you breaking the picket line and damaging the strike - to anyone willing to scab against their fellow workers. GIven that one of the main issues of the WGA are the proliferation of short-term "mini rooms" whereby employers are hiring teams of writers to work overtime for a very short period, to the point where they can only really do the basics (a series outline, some "broken stories," and some scripts) and then have the showrunner redo everything on their lonesome, while not paying writers long-term pay and benefits, I would imagine we're going to see a lot of scab contracts being offered for these mini rooms.

But for most of us, unless we're actively working as writers in Hollywood, most of that isn't going to be particularly relevant to our day-to-day working lives. If you're not a professional or aspiring Hollywood writer, the important thing to remember honoring the picket line doesn't mean the same thing as a boycott. WGA West hasn't called on anyone to stop going to the movies or watching tv/streaming or to cancel their streaming subscriptions or anything like that. If and when that happens, WGA will go to some lengths to publicize that ask - and you should absolutely honor it if you can - so there will be little in the way of ambiguity as to what's going on.

That being said, one of the things that has happened in the past in other strikes is that well-intentioned people get it into their heads to essentially declare wildcat (i.e, unofficial and unsanctioned) boycotts. This kind of stuff comes from a good place, someone wanting to do more to support the cause and wanting to avoid morally contaminating themselves by associating with a struck company, but it can have negative effects on the workers and their unions. Wildcat boycotts can harm workers by reducing back-end pay and benefits they get from shows if that stuff is tied to the show's performance, and wildcat boycotts can hurt unions by damaging negotiations with employers that may or may not be going on.

The important thing to remember with all of this is that the strike is about them, not us. Part of being a good ally is remembering to let the workers' voices be heard first and prioritizing being a good listener and following their lead, rather than prioritizing our feelings.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I harp a lot on how I don't think the current episodic release structure for Arknights does it many favors in how it wants to tell its stories, and how it's story manifests for us, but there are some benefits to this type of long form structure, and it's moments that get better with hindsight. It's not impossible to do this in a more contained medium, as this is often a staple of the mystery genre of literature and film, but it is uncommonly employed in video games to great effect, with their contained stories often being played much more straight.

One of the benefits of releasing longer-form content is the ability to both make callbacks and to give additional details that change the meaning in earlier scenes. The most famous in Arknights, at least for me, is the scene in Wei's office in Chapter 2.

In it's original context, this is Wei Yenwu being aloof to the threat of Reunion, not even bothering to properly remember their leader's name. Once you learn though that Talulah is not just Reunion's leader but Wei Yenwu's niece, and suddenly the scene has new context. This is the scene I point to when I want to talk about how much of a slimeball Wei Yenwu is at this point in the story. This isn't him being aloof, this is Wei deliberately holding back information in order to manipulate for himself a better position. By not revealing his stakes, he wants to hold more power at the negotiation tables with Rhodes Island for Lungmen.

Of course he knows the name of the leader of Reunion, how could he not? How could he not remember letting Kaschey go and take her away, prioritizing Lungmen over the safety of his dead brother's daughter? But he's not going to show that to Rhodes Island, a bunch of strangers he intends to use in poor faith.

Now let's talk about a conversation in Chapter 10 you likely haven't thought about in quite some time!

That's right! We're here to talk about Nezzsalem's confrontation with Kal'tsit when she docks with Londinium. This is a really interesting scene that primarily serves initially to offer even more mystique to Kal'tsit and Theresa's assassination. After all, Kal'tsit and Nezzsalem knew each other, they even fought together at least once. The King of the Nachzehrer! He was there when Theresa was assassinated, and here he is now, inquiring about the death of the last pure Wendigo. None of this seems out of the question, but with some more time, it's possible to find this scene strange.

How did he know? Sure, the Nachzehrer thrives off of life and death, but they're more focused on war. The passing of lives to the Myriad Souls is the concern of the Banshees, not the Nachzehrer. Patriot is also not a Sarkaz hero, at least not directly, since he was a Patriot for Ursus, not Kazdel, and he was a supporter of Theresa at that. Given everything we know now, it's pretty unlikely that Patriot would have followed Theresis to Londinium. But it's still not completely out of the question. Babel reveals that the Military Council in its fledgling state knew about where he was.

This is a pretty small aside after Nezzsalem defeats Logos, but it managed to hit me like a brick, because the first thing I remembered was Nezzsalem confronting Kal'tsit about the death of Patriot. Patriot was not just a Wendigo to Nezzsalem, he was something of a son to him. Sure, he might not have been Nezzsalem's only student, but the Nachzehrer are not shown to be a particularly sentimental bunch pretty much ever, so the Sudaram going "Yeah. Your kid" is impactful here. Nezzsalem stands, having beaten Laqueramaline's son in combat, after Aefanyl had proven himself worthy of respect, as an old man thinking about his own son.

This reframes the conversation in Chapter 10. Nezzsalem knows Kal'tsit, it's implied he's known her for a very long time, and it's likely he's seen the different lives of Kal'tsit and likely knew of her involvement in the invasion of Kazdel a couple hundred years ago. So it's now also got that added element of the King of the Nachzehrer coming up to the landship and shaking Kal'tsit by the shoulders going "WHAT DID YOU DO". It provides new context for his anger. Kal'tsit was directly involved in the death of his foster son, just as she was directly involved previously in the destruction of Kazdel and one of the figures behind Babel.

It also adds some depth to Nezzsalem's acceptance. He died a warrior, maybe against one of the most fitting opponents upon all of Terra, and knowing that Patriot chose Kal'tsit quells that anger.

It's all neat. There's more that can be extrapolated from this, such as this providing something of an explanation for Patriot's military ability and potentially even his witchcraft, but those aren't as important or interesting to me. Chapter 14 is a story in a number of ways about the burden and threads of individuals who have lived an immensely long period of time, individuals who have found immortality in one way or another, and the ways that these lives ultimately intersect and weave with one another, and Patriot is another one of those patterns weaved through time.

[synthetickitsune]

Ashes Settle, Left Behind ✧ y.jh [part 1]

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x ghost!reader (gn) Genre: horror-ish angst Summary: Everything eventually comes to an end. Life. Love. Even marriage only lasts until death do us apart. So why should a soul bond be any different? Word count: 10k Warnings: a lot of inaccuracies that we shall all ignore for the sake of the plot (pretty please), mentions of fire, jeonghan has an invisible stalker basically A/N: Things got a little out of hand but lately that's all they do when it comes to me and writing lmao... Anyway, excited to finally be sharing the first part of my addition for @svthub's world tour collab! It ended up being more fun (and longer) than I expected and the second part hopefully shouldn't take too long now - unless I feel like torturing these two more. Also shoutout to @wooahaeproductions for helping me find out about the fire of Seattle that started all this! -> svthub world tour masterlist -> [part 2] (coming soon!)

You feel a shift in the air.

As if a tomb was opened and you could breathe again, see the world again. You see the light at the end of a tunnel. You let it envelope you.

You take a breath but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You feel light and airy. Not held down by gravity; your lungs not weighted down by ashes and smoke.

You raise your hands and see. See - but not yourself. Just a blur. Like looking at the world through water.

Your body’s not there.

Just a ghost. A lingering memory someone dreamed up after an eternity.

It takes an effort to come to terms with your existence. Again. With a completely new form, in a new time. You’re not sure what’s a bigger shock - your ethereal self or how much everything changed. 

You can’t wander out, caged in another memory kept preserved in the bones of the city you lived in. 

The people are different. The technology is different. It’s hard to understand, but you have nothing better to do than watch the people who come in and walk through the graveyard that is your home. And you learn. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

The modern world is easy to grasp, but life… not so much. There’s only one thing that’s for certain: something changed. 

Something made the change happen. You have no explanation as to how or why. But you know one thing. He has returned.

As if you’ve been longing for eternity, you feel so relieved you could cry.

You can clearly visualize it. Him bursting in through the door, embracing you and spinning with you in his arms with that pretty and carefree smile.

He’s coming home. Finally, he’s coming home again.

You should get the dinner started…

But…

The kitchen burned down.

The house burned down.

The city burned down.

Usually he’d be cursing his alarm right about now, but today Jeonghan is already awake and sipping coffee by the window of his little shop.

Despite only having slept a couple hours, he feels energized and ready to face the day. He’s sure the exhaustion would catch up with him later, but the benefit of being his own boss and living right above his workplace is that he could always spend his lunch break napping in the comfort of his bed if he needed to. Although he isn’t sure he’d manage to keep his eyes closed or get a decent sleep until he figured out his battle plan.

What battle?

Figuring out the decoration for the upcoming city festival. The thought alone makes him breathe deeply and bite back a smile.

It was made very clear throughout the negotiations that he and his shop wasn’t the first choice; the general mood was more along the lines of you’ll have to do because no one else would accept an offer this low. But Jeonghan truthfully didn’t mind, he didn’t even mind the low pay even though it’d barely make him any profit. It was an opportunity to put himself and his business out there and show what he and his team are capable of. 

Having only tipped their toes into the waters of providing decorations for big events, this was huge. There was nothing he loved more than making bouquets for his customers and bringing smiles to faces that he sometimes couldn’t even see, but he also craved success. Not to mention that if his shop got contracted for more deals like this (with better pay, hopefully), he could likely afford to take better care of the people helping him, which was ultimately a stronger drive to make it big than the status of a successful business owner.

“Someone’s up early.” 

He turns in the direction of the voice and sees Joshua and Seungkwan walking in, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. Seeing them, he feels like he could work nonstop for weeks, all the way until the festival.

If everything goes well, maybe they could start doing weddings. Joshua is always going on about wanting to design and make someone's wedding bouquet. He'd be ecstatic if they got the opportunity. Most of them would be, Jeonghan thinks. He's seen some of Jihoon's ideas scribbled on loose pages around the shop. They were perfect, some fit for a neat modern wedding, others straight out of fairytale. Seungkwan daydreams of making little flower crowns for the flower girls and flower boys. 

Weren’t they simply meant to do weddings? It's not an easy business venture to get into, but with the festival... It's a good opportunity. Or maybe he’s just too hopeful.

"Good morning" he greets his friends with a warm smile. "It's gonna be a busy day so why not start straight away?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Seungkwan teases, but he's smiling too. 

The morning routine is a breeze with one extra person. Eventually, Seokmin and Jihoon come in and join too as they all agreed to meet and plan for the big event ahead. The back room is cramped with all of them gathered - another sign they need to make a lot of money and expand.

Although Jeonghan likes it this way, likes how cozy the main space of the shop is.

“Is there any theme they want? Colors, aesthetic?” Joshua asks, “It’d be much easier if there was.”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs, “They didn’t mention anything, so I guess we’re free to do whatever. It’s a history faire so I guess they have no idea either.”

“So something that will survive drunk dudes pissing in it for anything that’s not hanging in the air it is,” Seungkwan claps his hands like it’s a done deal, turning the attention of everyone to himself.

“Don’t ruin your boss’ illusions, dude,” Seokmin scolds him immediately, whisper-shouting as if Jeonghan couldn’t hear.

“He’s right though,” Jihoon points out with a shrug. Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s dream a little and aim for aesthetic over functionality, shall we,” he sighs, “Bushes and weeds might be practical and local but let’s take this opportunity seriously.”

He gives Joshua a sharp glare before he can speak up. He knows his friend isn’t entirely on board with this thing ever since he heard about the details of the meeting Jeonghan attended. He’s not stupid, he knows they’re not taken seriously and that, realistically, it will be a miracle if anyone cares what they do for the decorations. It is a good way to advertise themselves though. 

“We should do something fun,” Seokmin interrupts their little staring contest, “We could make something nice and historical.”

Jeonghan thought about the same thing, the issue is…

“Flowers aren’t really known to last long, you know,” Jihoon points out, “That’s their beauty.”

“It might be a challenge to find any historical inspiration,” Joshua hums in thought, “But it would be cool if we pulled it off.”

Everyone seems to agree, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, Jeonghan's main goal whenever he was hiring was to create a team of people that would fit well together. He didn’t want them to feel like coworkers, and he couldn’t be happier that it truly feels like they’re friends first and colleagues second.

The idea grows and transforms. The idea of teambuilding is thrown around a lot, even though it sounds more like an excuse to hang out instead of doing actual research and hunting for ideas. Some suggestions are better than others, some more logical than others, but Jeonghan decides to sit back and relax. Whatever they do, he’s confident the end result will be great. They’ll do well. Even if this whole thing turns into one big hang out under the guise of working. It might do them well to have fun without any worries. There’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The scene is all too familiar. You feel it just as you did those twenty-something years ago, although who really keeps track.

The light returning to your life. The world welcoming you back. It feels like it’s opening its arms to you now.

His arms. The safety, the security. The love. You yearn.

You feel it now almost physically; truly an oxymoron in your predicament.

You kept looking for him in the strange faces coming day after day, but it was never him. Not until now.

He’s coming home.

He’s close.

It makes your whole being tingle, like a magnet drawn to another, like a moth flying too close to a flame yet unable to pull back.

You feel the shift in the air. A rush of fresh breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and the scent of the meadow where he stole your first kiss.

He’s here.

“This is stupid,” Jeonghan grumbles. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a displeased wrinkle between his brows. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden temperature drop between outside and here.

“Inspiration is a mysterious thing,” Joshua smooths that wrinkle away and chuckles, “Besides this is research. And that was your idea if I remember correctly.”

“My idea,” Jeonghan hisses, “Was googling a bunch of stuff and then deciding what had the chance of best results. Not going on a history tour that will be useless.”

“It’s more authentic. We’re going to breathe in the atmosphere of the old city,” the other man shrugs, “And c’mon, can you believe we’ve never been on one of these?”

Yes. Yes, he’s perfectly willing to believe so, because these tours are for tourists and history nuts and they’re neither. They have a flower shop for god’s sake. 

He doesn’t say that aloud, however, because the tour guide appears and as grumpy as the cold might be making him, and as spiteful he might feel towards Joshua for dragging him here so early in the morning on their day off, he won’t spoil the mood. So he schools his expression into a curious smile and listens to the introduction.

It’s not too bad once he gets into it. Although it does absolutely nothing so far as searching for anything decoration-related goes and inspiration is yet to hit him, it’s interesting. More so than he expected. And Joshua being Joshua reads his mind well enough that he asks the questions Jeonghan is also curious about. The younger man gives him a knowing smile whenever Jeonghan nods along to the guide’s explanation. He rolls his eyes at him.

The tour is really nice - unexpectedly, they also discover a half-burned photograph of a couple with flower baskets behind them and also a newspaper clip with a photo of something that looked like a faire with flowers decorating the streets that his companion excitedly pointed out to him. Not that either of these were clear enough to get any real inspiration, but hey, at least they will have something to report back to the guys.

However, as the tour progresses, an uneasy feeling grows in Jeonghan’s stomach. He’s never had any real issue with claustrophobia, so he doesn’t think that’s it. Human bodies are weird though, and their minds even more so. He’s stronger than some irrational fear trying to pull a trick on him. Is it really a phobia though? Is phobia supposed to make him anxious to his bones and hit him with nausea that feels like a cold hand squeezing his stomach? His knees feel like they’ll buckle under him any moment now.

“Hey, Han, are you alright?”

He jumps and only the lump in his throat stops him from yelping when Joshua grabs his shoulder. He’s frowning.

“Sorry, is there anywhere my friend can sit down for a minute?”

He hears his friend speak but the words don’t really register in his mind. He lets himself be led to the side and sat down on a chair. He feels faint. His head is spinning. He barely hears whatever Joshua is saying.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And in turn, his life makes you remember what it felt like to live.

You don’t need to breathe but in the instant you see him, you forget you ever could.

He looks different, but you’d recognize him anywhere.

His hair is longer. It looks good on him, framing his face like a dark halo. He looks like an angel. Did he come to save you?

The clothes he’s wearing make him seem out of place just like the rest of the group. Just a tourist in a place that he should call home. That he once did call home. You don’t recognize the man next to him, and your heart pangs. His friends used to be yours too.

You move closer without realizing. It feels like your entire body is pulsing with life long forgotten; with a heartbeat you no longer have.

He doesn’t look good.

He seems to feel unwell. The closer you get, the more it seems to hurt him. Love truly is violence.

The man next to him calls his name.

You repeat it. It’s different. It feels different on your tongue, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. You suppose that just comes with the territory.

He looks like he’s about to lose consciousness. You can’t just watch him getting hurt.

You move closer, grabbing onto his arm the second before he can fall.

He doesn’t. Instead he suddenly straightens as shiver runs through his body. He seems disoriented when he looks through you. Almost like he can tell that’s where you are.

You’re dragged along with him by his friend. Even though you’re right in front of his face, he doesn’t see you. He looks like he’s about to faint. Pearls of cold sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth chattering and face deadly pale. His friend moves right through you when he crouches down in front of him.

“Jeonghan? Can you hear me?” he taps your lover’s leg without any reaction, “What’s going on?”

“Breathe,” you whisper. Like a magic trick, he does. He gasps for air like he’s drowning on dry land and his friend panics, shooting up to his feet and shaking his shoulder. 

“Slowly. You don’t belong to me yet,” there’s a bitter smile on your face when again he follows your instructions. Not yet.

It’s a strange and nauseating feeling. You don’t wish him death, but you long to hold and be held. His soul recognizes yours, it yearns for you too. But will his heart? Would his heart?

“Shua?” Jeonghan asks, brows furrowed and eyes vacant. He looks dazed, the color still drained from his face.

“Han? Can you hear me?” the man - Shua - tries again.

“Yeah,” your lover rubs his face, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You scared me, man,” the other man sighs, “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good now. Isn’t it cold here?” Jeonghan rubs his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them as he stands up. Shua looks ready to catch him if he loses strength again and you feel a sense of pride. He always knew to choose his friends well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit chilly,” Shua responds, apprehensive, and clearly not trusting Jeonghan’s legs not to give up on him again.

“We should head up,” Jeonghan says and tries to orient himself. You can’t let him go. His friend frowns. The temperature didn’t change since they entered, only Jeonghan did - you did. You latch onto his arm. You hold him like he’s the ghost that could disappear at any moment. 

His skin is warm under your touch. He shivers and looks at his arm, right where you hold him, before passing a hand over it. His fingers slip right through you. Nothing helps him chase away the cool sensation it seems.

“I’m not sure, Han,” Shua hesitates, “It’s pretty hot up there and you seem kind of… I don’t want you to feel worse because of the heat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeonghan manages a smile. The same smile you used to see every day.

“Are you sure? I don’t know about you but I can’t afford any hospital bill,” his friend jokes, earning himself an eye roll.

Tears burn at your eyes. His friends were always like that - caring, kind, but with a mischievous heart.

“Alright, lemme just check with the guide that it’s okay for us to just leave,” Shua finally concedes, seeing as your lover won’t budge. Jeonghan gives him a nod (and a smile when the man hesitates again - Jeonghan even sits down to finally get him going).

It’s just you and him.

He sighs. As he massages his arm to get some feeling back in it, his warm palm passes through you once more. He grimaces. Can he perhaps feel you? It doesn’t matter how little. Can he tell you’re with him? You know it’s selfish, so so selfish. But you crave acknowledgement. After so long, after waiting for so long…

He looks up, he looks in your direction - he’s still looking as confused and lost as before. A lost young man, a look you’ve seen on him before when he took you on a trip to the countryside. He always looked at you so fondly back then. And now he doesn’t see you at all. You want him to - as selfish and cruel as it is. As foolish as it is. You want it even though your heart would break. He’d be terrified. Perhaps he wouldn’t even recognize you. You don’t think he would but you hope, you wish. It’s not like you have any idea if the same feelings in your heart remained in his.

He keeps running his hand over his arm like an obsession, like he’s trying to ground himself. He massages it, he pokes at it, he pinches it. He must feel your touch somehow, he does - he just doesn’t recognize it, so can it really be said he feels it at all? You should let go. Whatever he feels, it’s not a pleasant feeling. But you can’t. You finally found him again. You can’t let go now. It’d be like letting go of the straw that keeps you from drowning.

“Jeonghan,” you try calling his new name aloud. A mere whisper.

Yet he whips his head up and gasps. His pupils shrink, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He freezes. Not a simple scare freeze - no, the type of fear rooted deep in human instinct, the fear of something unknown and unnatural, something that seems human but isn’t.

He meets your eyes. You truly think he does. His breath gets stuck in his chest.

“-aaand we’re clear to go!” Shua announces cheerfully, returning back in a rush - then he speeds up more when he sees Jeonghan, his face immediately falling. “Hey, you good?”

He needs to shake Jeonghan’s shoulder to get his friend to look at him. He gets no other reaction than a few blinks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he tries to lighten the mood, although his brow is furrowed in worry.

Jeonghan is pale as a sheet. You notice he bites his tongue, he resolves himself to push back his true feelings - you’ve learned to read him like an open book. It only causes you more pain now.

“I just got a bit nauseous,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth, “I think I messed up my breakfast.”

“That’s why I keep telling you to consider the kitchen more of a decoration,” Shua huffs while he helps Jeonghan stand up, insists on it despite the other’s protests. He watches out for him even as he stands straight and steady.

“Let’s just go,” Jeonghan groans, “I think I should lie down.”

You don’t let go. You see his hand twitch as if he wants to touch his arm again but he stops himself.

You hang onto his arm. You haven’t managed to leave the buried remains of the past before, held back by an invisible force. It must’ve been fate looking out for you.

Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re meant to haunt this place. 

Whatever happens though, trapped here or not, you will hold onto him until the last second.

You hold your redundant breath as you’re all nearing the exit.

You’re carried out, anchored to your lover. 

The sun shines through you.

“So, how did it go?” No surprise Jihoon is already back. They really should have bit the bullet and volunteered to drag him around. Looking back, Joshua really should’ve picked him over Jeonghan.

“Well…” Joshua hesitates and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

His arms still feels off. It’s cold - he thought maybe it was the wind blowing directly at it once they came out of the underground. (Not a leaf moved on the ground, but Jeonghan will ignore the fact. Maybe he just offended the wind in some way.) Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Could he eat some parasite in his food lately? Maybe. Honestly he would take anything over what he saw down there. Anything over being possessed by a ghost. He has too many things to achieve. He cannot afford to lose control of his body; wailing and being creepy is bad for the business.

“I feel better now,” he pats Joshua’s shoulder. It’s not a lie - or it won’t be in a while, once he gets lost in work. His arm still feels cold. Occasionally the feeling skims over his skin like a ghostly touch. He doesn’t want to entertain that thought. “Nothing to worry about, I just got a little dizzy. Maybe I slept too little?”

He thinks aloud, overacting but it works to make Joshua sigh in exasperation and Jihoon nod in understanding. Of course he would understand. 

“Look, just be careful, okay? We can get through one day without you, boss,” there’s a teasing lilt to Joshua’s voice when he calls him that but he coos at his friend anyway.

“Why don’t I start with the orders for tomorrow then, that’s easy enough,” he doesn’t wait for their agreement and instead goes to the back. Joshua will explain everything to Jihoon and he doesn’t necessarily need to be around for that. He knows they won’t protest if he takes on whatever he feels like, both a little too caring for their own good. That’s why he wants them to have easy lives, do well and be rich. A goal that will be a challenge if he starts losing his mind and seeing things suddenly. He shakes his head. Work. Focus on work and it’s gonna be fine.

And it is. They keep it cool in the back so the flowers don’t wilt as quickly. He would need to focus to feel the difference of temperatures on his body - so he won’t do that. He doesn’t need to think about much else while he prepares one bouquet after another, picking the right flowers, twisting stems together, tying bows… Although they should be getting ready for the festival and among other deals they have, they need to keep the core of the business running. It’s back to basics, but he loves it. He genuinely enjoys preparing the orders. Some of them are more specific than others, but he likes the artistic freedom of those in which he can just follow what occasion the bouquet is meant for and put his own twist to it. It’s an honor that so many people trust them to convey their feelings… or at least to create something pretty. He gets it, sometimes you just want to give someone a pretty flower without thinking about what it means.

He gets so into the work that he forgets about anything else and by the time Seokmin comes to get him, he’s done with everything. 

“You were faking it, weren’t you?” Seokmin accuses once he sees all the orders that needed to be prepared for tomorrow done and stored away. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“Joshua is just too dramatic. You know him,” he sighs. His friend doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, he looked really worried,” the younger man shifts on his spot nervously, “He said you looked like you’ll pass out. Like you saw a ghost.”

Jeonghan flinches a little. But he recovers quickly, gasping in a split second and hitting Seokmin’s shoulder lightly with a declaration of: “Don’t say scary things like that!”

Seokmin teases him for a while, but it’s fair enough. Jeonghan’s never been too scared of ghosts and such, never worried about being trapped underground forever - actually he doesn’t think there was ever a time his friends saw him scared, and the jokes remind him of that. Right. Ghosts aren’t real. He must’ve been just lightheaded or something. Maybe he’s more stressed about the planning than he realized previously.

“Right, I’ll do a coffee run, you want something?” Seokmin remembers, quickly getting to why he actually came.

“I’ll come with you, it’s hard to carry everything alone,” Jeonghan says as he washes his hands. 

He thinks about grabbing the jacket he keeps at the shop, but thinks better of it. It’s windy outside and Seokmin suggests he returns for it, but he absolutely won’t. The cold feeling shifted, resting around his hand as if assuring him it’s not going anywhere. Hand in unlovable hand - who said that? He shakes his head. It’s easier to ignore the sensation with the wind blowing this and that way, and Seokmin is good at distracting him.

They talk about the results of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s “research” while they wait in line and for their order to be made. It seems they were about as successful as him and Joshua, so Jihoon is their biggest hope. Not that it matters, it’s unreasonable to think anyone at the festival would care about the historical accuracy of the flowers used as decorations, and their shop focuses on the symbolism anyway, but Jeonghan likes little details like that. Even if it makes their work much harder. It would be nice to have something traditional or local for the centerpiece at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokmin asks all of a sudden. It takes him by surprise, but soon the expression is replaced by a soft smile. He nods. 

He’s not. But maybe the time he spends with his friends will help. Or maybe he’ll go mad and these are the last precious moments he has with them. Fortunately, the human mind isn’t capable of comprehending things in their entirety, and so even if his thoughts are gloomy, he can still smile. He’s grateful for that.  

“It was nothing. Maybe phobias are like allergies?” Jeonghan suggests, wondering, “Maybe they can just pop up randomly or disappear.”

“So you think I could get over my fear of bugs?” Seokmin considers the idea seriously.

“I’ll give you a raise if you do,” Jeonghan smirks and easily dodges his friend’s elbow aimed at his ribs. This is definitely better than obsessing over something out of his control. Something that might be all in his head.

(He still looks over his shoulder as they exit the cafe.)

As they sit at the round table - as Seokmin jokes - it’s very obvious everyone had a great time but it wasn’t really a productive means of reaching their research goal. They skip only quickly over his and Joshua’s trip, everyone well familiar with its less than ideal ending.

Jihoon of course agrees that local flora of history would be a great research topic for a thesis, but for now the idea remains to be extensively explored in resources that could be found at local libraries. (The silver lining though, clearly, is the stack of books in his bag resting against the wall.)

Seungkwan and Seokmin, who visited the botanical garden, did manage to get some interesting and useful information. A little miracle nobody counted on happening. They also went above and beyond to ask the visitors of the park about their favorite flowers. (“To make it like it’s made for them!” they claim, although the notion is as ridiculous as it is cute.)

Jeonghan enjoys listening to his friends, he really does. His eyes hurt with the effort to keep them on the person talking, always switching. He’s trying. But he’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s being continuously punched in the stomach.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton and fog, not a single thought forms itself in its entirety. All of them are just incoherent, broken pieces littering his mind. Jeonghan has never dived in his entire life, but he thinks he knows what it feels like now. He feels as though an entire ocean is pressing down on him. The meeting can’t end soon enough - as much as he loves listening to the chaos.

His friends fortunately aren’t blind and with all of them being aware of his almost collapse earlier, they don’t take long to catch on to Jeonghan not feeling his best. It takes some convincing that he’ll be fine, that he just needs to eat and rest, even as he’s putting all his strength into not doubling over and curling into fetal position to ease the sudden sinking fear gripping his entire body. They follow him the entire way to his door just upstairs. It’s comical, him and his four little ducklings. It eases the tension in his body and the fear, but he would lie if he said he doesn’t prefer to isolate himself whenever he’s not feeling well. He’s strong enough to lie and tell them he’ll be fine on his own.

The door closes behind him with what feels like finality. It feels like he just closed the door to his old life, though he wouldn’t hesitate to say it feels like he left his old world - whatever that means when there’s no other world. His apartment looks like it always did, like it did when he left this morning. It feels like that was eternity ago - he can summon the memories of his excitement, the energy he felt. There’s none left in him now. 

He lets his bag fall to the floor and lay there. He doesn’t bother to hang up his keys and lets them rest on the little shelf next to some trinkets the guys brought back from their holidays over the years. 

He drags himself to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa. He’s staring at the white ceiling, watches the stripes of lights and shadows following one after another where the glow of the street lamp is blocked by his blinds. It’s too quiet. 

He should wash up. There are many things he should do, actually, but he has no strength or will to get up. His stomach feels uncomfortable and his muscles are tense. That probably doesn’t help with how he’s feeling. He takes a couple deep breaths, slows down his breathing even if it feels like he’s going to pass out.

His head throbs, but it’s better than the nausea twisting his stomach. He thinks he’ll faint soon, something bad is bound to happen to him, his body overcome with heat, then cold, all within a minute. His breathing is getting heavier. He tries closing his eyes, searching for any small relief. Instead he’s more aware of his body. 

Something tells him to move, something so primal he doesn’t dare to disobey. Like his own body knows if something doesn’t happen right now, he’s gonna die. He groans when he pushes himself up, clinging to the back of the couch. He needs water. He makes it to the bathroom, supporting himself on the walls. It only gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and he’s lightheaded. 

He holds himself up against the sink and turns on the water. It feels icy against his skin, but that’s what he needs. He splashes his face with it, and the relief is slow but it’s there. He drinks out of his palms and the cold water sliding down his throat helps. He’s nauseous still, he feels dizzy, but not on the verge of breakdown. 

At least that’s until he looks up.

The mirror on the wall shows two reflections. 

He shrieks so loud his throat burns despite the cold water sticking to it. 

He thinks he blacks out for a second. 

But when he opens his eyes, he’s still standing in his bathroom. His hands are cramped, curled around the edges of the sink so that he doesn’t fall. 

The mirror still shows another person behind him. 

His own shriek resonates in his head and his throat burns more at the memory.

Part of him wishes that what he saw looked like a monster. Something straight out of a horror movie, something inhumane. But it’s just a person. Barely there, a shadow of a human being. Something that isn’t there when he turns to looks back.

He closes his eyes tightly and only blinks them open after a few long minutes. He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he feels is a resignation. Something in him gives up when the person doesn’t disappear when he looks into the mirror again. He refuses to check if something hasn’t changed and the stranger hasn’t manifested in his home - he’s seen enough horror movies for that. He’d rather keep his eyes on the reflection. 

“I lost my mind,” he laughs, his head hanging between his shoulders. Tears pool in his eyes. Was it stress? Was it karma for the pranks he played? What was it that finally did him in?

He looks up and the ghost is wearing a sad smile. As if it’s pitying him. He laughs again. Even the creation of his own shattering mind thinks him a pathetic clown.

“You should sleep,” a voice says, and at the same time: “I should sleep.” He says.

He hears it, but it takes a second to comprehend that the echo of his voice wasn’t truly his voice, but some other, second voice. The ghostly figure behind him never moved its lips. Never moved. Never spoke. It just keeps staring.

Has he seen the face before?

The underground flashes in front of his eyes. The split-second trick of the light he saw there. Goosebumps erupt all over his body. Could it be the same face?

Surely he just saw something, some picture - the picture on the tour? It must be a waking nightmare, just a stranger’s face he saw once. It’s said you never forget a face you’ve seen and this must be it. Maybe he slept less than he thought. He must be exhausted, his body must be shutting down. That’s why he’s losing it. His vision starts swimming. He’s dizzy from staring at the figure so intensely.

Something like sleep paralysis maybe? He’s awake but ready to pass out from exhaustion. That must be it.

“Sleep,” he speaks again, and like before, there’s the echo of the second voice. He’s sure it’s just his sleep paralysis demon speaking. He’s pathetic enough that even demons would pity him.

Sleep… He needs to go to sleep. That much is obvious. But sleep seems like the stupid thing to do. He rubs his face again, splashes more cold water on it, but the ghost doesn’t disappear. So he does the unthinkable.

He turns around suddenly. So suddenly his head hurts and he almost loses his balance. He winces, but there is no one. No solid figure, no ghastly figure, nothing. Cautiously, he reaches forward, but he feels nothing. There’s the need to check the mirror again gnawing at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns off the light so he can’t see at all. He extends his hand again but still - nothing. He takes a couple deep breaths and bolts. 

He’s stumbling and banging against the walls, but he makes it to his bedroom. He jumps on his bed, covers his body with a blanket and pants. His body is shivering, trembling, tight like his every muscle is cramped. It’s hard to breathe, the lump in his throat taking up too much space, the air can’t get through. He remembers the phone in his pocket and takes it out. It lights up and he can finally see again. 

It’s just him under the blanket. Only his body and nothing else. He sits up again. It makes him dizzy, the blanket falls. The phone lights up the room but it’s empty. It’s just him.

He sighs. 

He falls back, staring at the ceiling like he did before. The nausea is gone for the most part, and now that he’s lying down, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna pass out in the next second. There is only the dread and anxiety left that make him lightheaded and wide awake despite the exhaustion. He knows his body will give out before his mind does, but that’s worse. He knows it’s gonna create nasty nightmares to haunt him, and it’s the last thing he needs today. He honestly feels like crying. He feels like calling someone - but what’s he gonna say? ‘Hey, I think I saw a ghost in my bathroom, can you come over?’ That sounds way too pathetic. It’s too late to ask anyone to come over, and to ask if they could stay over too. At least without a good reason. He knows he can rely on his friends, knows they wouldn’t ask questions and be there within minutes, but his pride won’t allow it. And looking like he does - he can imagine the mess that he is right now - they might not ask, but they’d be worried. Jeonghan doesn’t want that above all. 

So he takes a couple of deep breaths. If there is a ghost in his bathroom… If there is a ghost anywhere, if he is possessed… What’s he supposed to do about it at midnight? Nothing. There’s nothing he can do. 

He reasons with himself. He’s exhausted. He can feel his very bones weighing him down, and he already had some sort of breakdown earlier on the tour. Must be stress. Must be hunger - he doesn’t feel hungry at all, but except for breakfast, did he eat anything the whole day? He can only remember the breakfast and the toast Seungkwan basically forced down his throat. Must be that he’s starving. Must be the lack of sleep. Even though he felt energized, that doesn’t mean he was. His body must’ve lied to him - and now his own eyes and mind are lying to him. That must be it. There’s no way ghosts exist. 

He turns to his side and checks the calendar. It shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, that should give them plenty of chances to brainstorm about the festival some more. He focuses on that. The festival. The orders they should get done tomorrow. All the practical and necessary day-to-day things. He should get some groceries too. A warm, home cooked meal would do him good, even if it was something simple that he cooked. It all must’ve been just exhaustion and hunger. 

He lets the screen go dark. He can barely make out his reflection in the dim light coming in through the window. Only his reflection. That soothes him a little. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore anyway. He listens to the sounds of the apartment and everything sounds as it should. No movement, no steps, no doors making funny sounds. He’ll laugh about it in the morning. He’ll tell the guys and they’ll laugh about it together. That’s how it’s gonna be. He allows himself a tiny smile.

Just a sleep paralysis that came too early. 

Errors happen even in the human body. 

That’s just how it is. 

You watch him fall asleep.

You don’t have a body, yet it feels like you do all the same. The pain feels real, even if it doesn’t have anywhere to anchor itself to. Passing points, your own ghosts of neurons shooting signals to each other in a messed up web all over your being. You are a nebula of pain.

It was obvious what’s going to happen. You knew it well. Yet it left your heart shattered on his bathroom floor. 

What hurts more - the terror in his eyes or that he doesn’t recognize you? Well, he has his own life now, one without you, so you suppose there’s only so many memories he can carry with himself. And you simply have no place among them.

It hurts. You want to scream, but you can’t - not in a way that would bring relief. And what if he hears you? In what universe could you endure seeing more of his panic? You know the answer.

Seeing him so exhausted hurt you too. Was it hard carrying you around? Bringing a second soul probably leaves a toll on the body just like carrying another body would. You wished to speak to him, but how could you utter a word when seeing you made him react the way he did. You don’t want him to lose his mind. You’ll have to be smart. You don’t want to hurt him more than you’re already doing. You can carry the hurt of the situation, you can withstand the hurt he causes you because it’s not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not yours either, you think, you hope, but you definitely have more power here. You comfort yourself with the knowledge you could probably talk to him. Just not tonight when the fear is fresh. 

You move closer to him, gently move some of his hair away from his face as if you were a cold breeze blowing in through the window. He looks angelic. His features are much softer than you remember, but he’s as handsome as he always was. You lie down beside him, admiring him in his sleep. It’s not gonna be a restful night. You see the first frown twist his face, and it stabs you right in your chest. You can’t protect him from nightmares, but you’ll share the pain.

Even if he won’t know.

“Wow,” Jihoon exclaims the moment he sees him, “You look-”

“- awful.”

“- like shit.”

Both Seokmin and Joshua pipe in. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

As expected, the night wasn’t kind to him at all. Well, perhaps he could find some silver lining in the fact that despite the night being quite hot, he was so exhausted he didn’t even notice. And despite the nightmares and the heat, he didn’t wake up sweaty and disgusting.

Anyway, he didn’t have the courage to wander into his bathroom and avoided mirrors like the plague, so he probably looks a mess anyway. 

(It was pathetic enough to crawl on the floor and blindly feel for his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink without really stepping inside. To take a shower there was out of the question. Okay, maybe he was a little disgusting.)

“I couldn’t sleep well,” he shrugs, “Neighbours decided to have a party.”

The young couple living in the apartment above his own were actually the ideal neighbors, but that was good - with no reason to talk about them much, the lie would go unnoticed. He got several understanding nods in response.

“And… you feeling okay?” Seungkwan asks, and he’s once again touched by his friends’ concern that is mirrored on all three faces.

“Yeah,” he tries a small smile, “Would be better if I got actual sleep but it is what it is.”

“You can sneak out during lunch break, we won’t tell the boss,” Seokmin gives him an exaggerated wink. He scoffs, but smiles anyway. It’s genuine.

This is better. Normal is better. Last night feels like a fever dream compared to this. Just a joke played on him by his exhausted body and mind. He’s still shaken by it, though, the cracks it left in his confidence in himself and what reality is are still too sharp to joke about it. He hopes that by tomorrow he gets some quality sleep and his shit together.

“Anyway, let’s get to work so Friday isn’t a pain in the ass,” he claps, rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s mock salute. 

He’s more grateful than he could ever express for these guys. The nightmare of last night is easily forgettable and written off as a glitch in the matrix with them around. 

When a cold breeze circles and brushes around his wrist though, as if lingering like a lover’s touch, he shivers and breaks out in cold sweat anyway. He turns around. He sees nothing. 

As it should be.

(Then why does he feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up?)

You’ve always admired his hard working nature. The honesty and dedication with which he works. It’s quite the change from the man you used to know back then - you’d never think you’ll get to see him one day selling flowers, but it seems to suit the present day version of him. Very little of him changed in the aspects that matter. Bodies are no more than a shell to be eventually discarded - or that’s how you came to think of them over your short experience of being just a wandering soul.

You’re careful not to hover too close too often. He flinches any time the wind blows in, even if it’s a work of nature and not your touch. And so you lost your excuse to touch him. It still makes you uneasy to keep your distance. Your heart is filled with anxiety whenever you lose contact with him, terrified of being dragged back into the underground by the same mysterious power that allowed you to leave when you latched onto him.

Jeonghan’s friends watch him closely - trying to be as inconspicuous as they can to go unnoticed by him. Yet he does notice them, smiling a little to himself. He seems troubled but he hides it well. At least from everyone who can’t float around him and see him when nobody is looking. It pains your heart, it really does. But it can’t be helped - you can’t help it. Your instinct screams to stay close to your lover after what, decades - centuries? No way you’re letting him disappear from you now.

It’s painful to watch him be cautious and on guard, to be the only one aware of it, and the only one on the receiving end of this icy attitude. You don’t blame him. But it hurts. You’re tempted, oh so tempted, to take advantage of the moments when he speaks to his friends, moments when you know he’d fake being alright, to touch him. To wrap your arms around him and hold him. Just for a second.

He’s yours. Can’t he see? Can’t he feel it? His soul is yours, yours is his. Doesn’t he know?

It makes you angry. Some part of you is furious with him for not feeling the tug of your bond. It’s so deeply interwoven in your heart, bound to your very existence. Why else would you be awakened to your afterlife if not to meet him? To be one with him again?

And he doesn’t even bother to care about you.

All he seems to care about is how repulsive your touch is to him. When he’s left alone in the room, he turns around helplessly, desperately searching for something that is not there, yet something that makes his skin crawl, that invades his space, that he can’t run away from. 

Why would he run?

His eyes are wide and panicked, teary. You can see yourself in their reflection and you feel shame that makes you draw back.

But he’s still scared. He doesn’t know you back away from him.

He’s still backing himself into a corner, or against a wall, or a desk, or against soft blooming flowers that stop him in his tracks. And then you are reminded of his gentle touch and tender caresses and you want to weep. 

He might be terrified of the summer breeze, but he never harms the flowers. He stops himself before he can knock them over.

You’re a monster, and it hurts. You’re a monster but it hurts. You’re a monster despite and because it hurts. Being a ghost cannot possibly be described in any other way than the simple statement I am in pain.

You don’t want to hurt him. Yet it seems that’s all you can do.

You’re angry and you’re hurt, your emotions come and go like the waves at the sea.

And he’s hiding it all so well, acting like he lost his balance when his friends start returning. He laughs, pretty and bright. Like he was never on the verge of tears.

Truth be told though, it’s hard. He wants to break down, but he can’t and he won’t. Jeonghan won’t let them see him cry, he won’t tell them anything. He’ll let them tease him, he’ll whine at them. He’ll laugh. It’s important as a business owner to be able to act, to pretend. It’s what he’s always done. He doesn’t need help. He can do this.

It’s harder to let the work swallow him whole, however. He feels eyes on him. Hand frozen just a breath away from his skin. It makes him jumpy, but fortunately that can be easily written off and joked about as just him dozing off. It wouldn’t be the first time lack of sleep made him act weird, and for once he’s glad for that. At the same time, though, it stings. 

He wants to be comforted, to be reassured. At the same time, he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned about something that might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But it really doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. He can’t explain it; the impending sense of doom, like he’s about to have a heart attack. The fear so strong and urgent it enables him to act with absolute serenity. Jeonghan knows it’s not just the exhaustion - which means that yesterday was no play of the shadows in his bathroom either. It makes him nauseous all over again. It makes the scent of flowers overwhelming.

He makes it through the maintenance and prep for tomorrow with only a few tiny hiccups. Mostly due to the efforts of his friends to keep him entertained. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to thank them. They might quite literally be saving his life - or his sanity at the very least. But isn’t it the same thing at the end of the day - his life and his ability to comprehend that he’s living this life.

After the necessary is done at a record pace, a couple hours earlier than it would take under normal circumstances, they sit down according to plan to brainstorm. It’s more fun now that they abandoned the pressure of sticking to tradition and history - which in hindsight should be obvious to be impossible. It’s not like even if they wanted to, even if they could, it would be viable to only use the local wildflowers for all the decor.

Jihoon also shocks everyone when, unlike Seungkwan, he provides the list of artists and other entertainers who’ll be present at the festival. (“What? I have friends too, you know,” he scoffs when everyone turns to look at him with their mouths hanging open and Seungkwan grumbling to himself.) 

Most of the musicians are local and undiscovered artists, but it helps with imagining the vibe the festival will have. It’s starting to come together when they look up the official program and list of activities that will be available. Surprisingly it seems that it truly aims to celebrate the city’s history, if one’s willing to look past the few necessary activities for children that are planned. And memories, remembering, cherishing, all that is so easy to express through flower language. 

A little too easy. 

And Jeonghan is yet again grateful to his friends for a thing he’d find a little annoying any other day.

“We don’t have to have it figured out today,” he tries to join the conversation again, tries to steer it in a more productive direction. It’s hardly a conversation anymore, rather a contest of who can be the loudest. Jeonghan’s eyes meet with Jihoon’s who shrugs and lifts the paper in front of him. There’s a rough drawing of what looks like possible table decoration with arrows and names pointing to individual flowers that Jeonghan can’t make out through the flurry of hands thrown around in wild gestures. Jihoon mouths a what do you think? to him anyway, although he can’t quite respond.

He runs a hand through his hair just as Seungkwan scolds Joshua for apparently making the centerpiece look too much like a funeral decoration.

If something really has possessed him, he wonders what the entity must be thinking…

“Jeonghan was saying something,” Jihoon grumbles out of nowhere, and even though Jeonghan himself could barely make out what the other was saying, the room goes quiet and all the four heads turn in his direction. He sighs. Like he needs more eyes on him. At least these he can see.

“We don’t have to get everything finalized today,” Jeonghan reminds everyone and starts picking different colored highlighters from the table. He swipes different colors over the individual items on the list of everything they were contracted to provide. He tries to be fair with the division of labor and closely monitors the reaction when he slides the paper further down the table for everyone to check out. 

“I think it’s best if everyone picks out something and comes up with ideas for that,” Jeonghan suggests, “We have enough time, so let’s meet about it in two weeks. And if you have any ideas for the other things, write them down too.”

“Do you want to pick first?” Seokmin asks but Jeonghan shakes his head.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he waves them off. It’s not like he could get himself to consider and focus right now. Honestly he can’t be sure yet how big of a deal whatever’s happening to him is, so it’s better this way. If there’s a risk of him not doing as good of a job as he could, why take something one of the guys would enjoy?

He watches with fond eyes as his friends bicker over the colors more seriously than the tasks. He spins the pen he’s holding between his fingers. The eyes he feels on his back constantly never disappear but somehow it seems like he’s not the main focus now. Is he losing his mind for real? Jeonghan rubs his eyes. 

It’s like he can feel it. Like he can feel something hover around. He doesn’t see anything, truth be told he doesn’t feel anything unless… It feels foolish to say until it touches him because there’s nothing there but there’s no better way to explain it. If that something was a person, he can feel their gaze shifting. If it was a person, who could it be? He made his fair share of mistakes in his life, but he doesn’t think he’s ever hurt anyone enough for them to haunt him.

“Well, that leaves the centerpiece for you,” Joshua slides the paper back to him. He whines.

“Is it because Seungkwan hates your idea?” Jeonghan complains. He doesn’t care, not much anyway (although it does put a lot of pressure on him), as long as they’re happy but he is worried. It’s a big responsibility, and if this whole issue he’s having will drag on, can he do a good job? He doesn’t want to let them down.

“It’s because you’re the owner. You should be the star,” Seungkwan pushes at his shoulder. Jeonghan hopes his smile is convincing enough. He hopes they’ll read the anxiety only for the half of the worries they’re meant to see.

“Always being nice to me only when it’s convenient, I see,” he sighs, shaking his head. At least he can smile for real now. At least he can forget somewhat about the eyes when he play-fights with them. 

They throw around ideas for a while longer and go through the timeline again - when is the next meeting with the organizers, when are they going to need to make the order, when to start with the work. That’s gonna be the main issue - to manage everything in time along with the other jobs they have. It’s not like there aren’t ways to get around it, but it’s another huge thing on Jeonghan’s plate to figure out.

It’s not exactly a tiring day and all things considered, Jeonghan feels quite refreshed when he makes it home. Mostly because Joshua insists on hanging out with him for a while, so that takes away the anxious edge he feels about coming home. Still, he thinks it must be because the other man worries about his breakdown yesterday and it irritates him a little.

He doesn’t even know a half of it - if he knew the whole story, Jeonghan’s positive Joshua would treat him differently. Like a freak. Then the guilt hits. Joshua is too kind for his own good and Jeonghan’s paranoid. Of course his best friend would try to understand, he’d probably help him come up with a logical solution and offer support. It’s just Jeonghan’s mind trying to isolate him like it always does when he’s going through something. He wishes he could blame it on whatever nightmare he’s dreamed up, but he really can’t.

Once the door closes behind Joshua, Jeonghan feels like his heart dropped into his stomach. He can’t swallow. He can barely breathe. Not that there’s anything preventing him, but he can’t set any rhythm to taking breaths that would allow him not to choke. He’s gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

The eyes are on him.

They were the whole time, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Now it’s all coming back to him in full force.

He can feel them, burning into his back.

When he turns around, there will be nothing there.

He does, slowly, hesitantly, eyes glued to the floor. It takes all his will power to look up.

Nothing.

He smiles bitterly. At this point he’d prefer it if he was hallucinating as well. He wants to see that thing that he saw in the bathroom yesterday. Anything that would make it more real and less like a delusion brought on by a sudden attack of claustrophobia. Because he’s not going insane. He won’t lose his mind from a silly visit of a historical site that Joshua brought him on. 

Then a thought hits him - what if Joshua finds out about it somehow? If his best friend ever learns about what Jeonghan is going through, he’ll feel guilty. Like he’s not already beating himself over that sudden spell of nausea that overcame him then and over Jeonghan’s exhaustion and weakness.

He has to solve this. He has to figure it out, at least. Make any kind of first step of getting rid of this. Yesterday, he could easily dismiss it as a punishment for pushing himself too much - what else could he do? It was late, he needed to sleep. His own body protected him from the horrors that he can’t avoid today in the daylight. Sure, he’s still exhausted, but it simply doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense. There’s no reason for him to have a psychotic break, so why? Why is this happening right when he most needs to be in a good condition? His fists clench and unclench, his jaw set. His eyes burn holes into the air in front of him. He can feel something there. He knows it’s there. He doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with, but he’s going to figure it out. Now.

Jeonghan struts into the bathroom and in the mirror - nothing. Only him. He takes a couple of deep angry breaths that sound too loud in the silent bathroom.

Not a speck of dust stirs. There’s no breeze. No cold ghostly touches brushing against his skin. If it was a dream, a trick of his exhausted body and mind, so be it. But he needs to be sure.“Show yourself,” he spits, “If there’s anything - anyone - following me, show yourself right now.”

[yuujispinkhair]

Heat Tolerance

A business trip to a desert planet with a certain annoying business partner leads to a heated fight and to a heated fuck.

Pairing: Sampo x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut, teasing, fuckbuddies, a bit of hate-fucking, some playful fighting, creampie, overstimulation, squirting. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Part three of my Heatwave Summer Series

A business trip to another planet to retrieve a relic set. It sounded like no big deal. Nice even. A change of climate, a little adventure. What could go wrong? You should have known better.

The moment a certain tall, blue-haired mercenary offered to accompany you, you should have run. But of course, Sampo Koski always has been your weakness, hasn't he? You never were able to say no to him, as much as you hate to admit that. And so you let him wrap you in his tales about how he knew so much about this faraway planet and how you could benefit from his knowledge and negotiation skills.

Long story short, you said yes, and now you deeply regret it.

"Why do you always have to get us into trouble, you idiot?"

You groan and send a death glare to the blue-haired man sitting across from you on the dusty floor of an abandoned souvenir shop in a shabby side street of Nailscrap Town. Sweat is running down your back and trickling down between your breasts. The heat is making your head spin, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. Especially here in this cramped little space where you are currently forced to hide from the authorities.

A lopsided grin meets you, and an outrageously nonchalant shrug,

"Aww, don't be so hard on me, sweetheart! I told you it was just a misunderstanding."

"You stole a brooch out of the Wasteland Museum! What is there to be misunderstood about this?"

Sampo sighs dramatically and rolls his pretty green eyes as he runs his long fingers through his sweaty blue hair, brushing it out of his face, only for it to fall back immediately,

"I told you, I have no idea how it ended up in my bag. It must have fallen into it when I walked past the display case. Is it my fault that they didn't fix it correctly? They probably do that on purpose so they can chase innocent tourists through their dirty city!"

You draw in a deep breath and force yourself to count to ten before you exhale it slowly. Black spots dance before your eyes. The heat is almost unbearable.

Of course, you had expected high temperatures on a desert planet. Of course, you had done your research beforehand. But it couldn't prepare you for just how intense the heat feels. And it's even worse here in this cramped little space in the middle of the concrete jungle of this city.

But this isn't just about tolerating the heat. This is mostly about tolerating this idiot by your side. He tags along like some puppy, following you as if you are his owner, and he is waggling his tail and begging for your attention.

Yes, sure, the two of you have a history. You met years ago via some shady business, and yes, you ended up in his room above the bar that night, bouncing on his gorgeous cock until the sun rose. And yes, you have met many times over the years, and yes, it almost always leads to sex.

So yes, maybe you and Sampo Koski are business partners with certain benefits, if you can call it that. And maybe you think his face is nice to look at and that his cock is pretty talented.

But that doesn't mean you want him to follow you everywhere and drag you into his drama. Your head already hurts from the heat, and that idiot's incessant chattering and his ridiculous excuses only make it worse.

The extreme temperatures on this desert planet are enough to grate on your nerves. You don't need the additional trouble that is Sampo Koski!

You glare at him, barking at him that he should shut up. But he only gives you that infuriating, dazzling smile. His long fingers wander to his vest, and you blink as you watch those skilled fingers opening the buttons, revealing more and more of Sampo's skin.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Taking off my clothes, of course. Maybe you didn't realize it yet, but it's a bit hot in here."

Sampo slips out of his vest and pulls the sleeveless shirt he wore underneath over his head, leaving him shirtless, only in his tight pants and leather gloves.

You gulp hard, coughing a little because your throat feels too dry all of a sudden. Sweat is glistening on Sampo's defined pecs, and his abs flex suddenly as he laughs that infuriating laugh.

"Are you checking me out, princess?"

His voice is teasing, seductive. You huff, hands balling into fists, pissed off at yourself for falling for his cheap tactics.

"Don't flatter yourself, Koski. I am delirious because of the heat, so forgive me for accidentally looking your way."

It’s stupid. You are being childish, and you know it. But this is how it always goes when Sampo Koski is near you, and you don't know how to stop it.

But he is right. Maybe taking off some clothes is a good idea. You take off your shirt, leaving you in your bra top. You let your head fall back against the counter you are leaning against, eyes fixing Sampo with a challenging glare. But his green-eyed gaze is busy traveling unashamedly over your half-exposed breasts.

A grin lifts the corners of your lips,

"Like what you see, Koski?"

Finally, those bright green eyes meet yours, but they don't show any sign of remorse. Sampo chuckles and has the nerve to wink at you,

"Of course I do."

"You really have no shame."

You shake your head and sigh.

How long have you been hiding here? Maybe you should check if the coast is clear. You get up from the dirty floor and lean over the counter, squinting your eyes, trying to peek through the dirty window. You flinch when you see a group of police officers passing the small shop. You step back quickly from the window...

... and almost scream out loud when you crash into something hard. Or someone. Sampo must have gotten up without you realizing it and is standing behind you now. Way too close.

His tall, firm body is pressing against you, his hot breath is ghosting over your neck, his teasing voice directly in your ear,

"Aww, do you want to be in my arms so I can keep you safe, sweetheart? Don't worry. Sampo Koski is here to the rescue."

You hiss and push him away, glaring at him.

"Get away from me, idiot. You are in my way."

Sampo draws in a sharp breath. He clutches his toned naked chest, looking at you with his pretty green eyes opened comically wide in fake shock. Always so dramatic.

"I am shocked! How can you say this to me? Me, your loyal companion on every planet! Your fair business partner! Your friend! Your lover! You rip my heart out, princess!"

"Oh yeah, do you mean the fair business partner who got me into this shitty situation? I could have already spent the last two hours looking for that relic! But now, thanks to you, I am trapped here, waiting until we can escape or get thrown into jail."

Sampo sighs dramatically. His long black lashes flutter innocently around those ridiculously green eyes, his stupid, pretty face settles into a pout.

"Aww, well, I could make it up to you. Sampo Koski isn't someone who leaves his customers unsatisfied."

You are about to ask him how exactly he thinks he can make it up to you, when he steps closer again. Before you know it, Sampo has you pinned against the dusty counter, and his tall body is pressing against your back again.

Large hands land on your hips, sprawling over them, so Sampo's fingertips brush teasingly over your lower tummy, dangerously close to a part of your body a normal business partner has no business touching.

Your pussy flutters in interest, heat pulsing in your clit.

You hate yourself for it, but you instantly press your ass against him, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning when you feel the familiar hardness of Sampo's large bulge rub against your ass.

Why do the two of you always end up like that? Why does every argument lead to sex? Why does he make you so wet when he infuriates you so much? And why does he get so hard from bickering with you? Why do the two of you get so horny for each other anytime you meet?

But you don't have time to worry about that because Sampo's hot mouth is on your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses on your skin, and his hands yank on your bra top, pulling it down. You gasp softly when your tits spill out, instantly getting cupped by Sampo's large hands. The leather of his fingerless gloves feels soft against your heated flesh. His fingers expertly tease your stiff nipples, making you embarrassingly wet for him.

He is grinding his clothed erection against your ass, gasping loudly against your neck, whining something about how good he can make you feel.

You can't take it anymore. You push down your shorts hastily, followed by your panties, before you bend over the counter to offer yourself to him. Your naked ass up in the air, leaning over so Sampo gets a good view of your swollen, wet pussy lips.

You look over your shoulder at Sampo, whose mouth is hanging open and whose heavy-lidded green eyes are staring at that wet place between your legs.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly and give your right ass cheek a firm slap, pulling him out of his daze.

"Come on, pretty boy! I thought you wanted to make it up to me! Get your cock out!"

Your voice sounds annoyed and commanding, but your face feels hot, and your heart is beating way too fast as you watch him pushing down his pants, freeing his large cock, which stands rock-hard for you, long and pretty with a slight curve, and a glistening wet light pink tip.

There are rumors that Sampo used to work in other fields before he became a mercenary. Rumors about certain red light district establishments. And you wouldn't be surprised if those rumors are true. Sampo is a gorgeous man with the most gorgeous cock you have ever seen. And even though you act as if it isn't so, he knows how to use that pretty cock.

So it's no wonder your pussy longs for him, betraying you and creaming up even more just at the sight of him.

A lazy smile spreads over his face, and he wraps a hand around that gorgeous cock, slowly stroking it, making fat drops of pre-cum trickle out of the pretty tip. You unconsciously lick your lips at the sight, and Sampo's smile grows.

"Awww, see, I knew you liked me!"

He sounds cocky, but his voice is too husky, giving away how horny he is for you.

You roll your eyes,

"Oh, shut up. Just bend me over this counter and fuck me already!"

He is behind you again in a split second, velvety wet cock rubbing teasingly over your ass cheeks, smearing his pre over your heated skin. Sampo laughs that stupid, annoying laugh before it turns into a shaky whine when his swollen cockhead slips between your cheeks and into your tight wet heat, stretching open your creamy cunt around his pretty tip.

"Ah... always such a pleasure to do business with you, sweetheart."

He practically sobs as he tries to go slow, only fucking you with his cockhead for a few seconds, making your nails dig into the counter, and a low growl escape your mouth at getting teased like that.

But luckily, Sampo can't keep up his little teasing game any longer, and instead, his long fingers tighten their hold on your hips, and Sampo snaps his hips, burying his long hard cock deep inside you, moaning loudly as your hot cunt twitches around him.

You hiss, pressing back against him, loving the slight burn of getting taken so suddenly, urging Sampo on to give you more.

He's panting loudly as he presses his tall body against you, one gloved hand landing in your hair and pushing your face down onto the dusty countertop, bending you so prettily over the former shop counter.

And then Sampo does that thing with his cock. The one where he humps your pussy for real now with those deep, harsh thrusts that always go so deep that you see stars. He is leaning over you, so much taller than you, caging you in, making your head spin from the feeling of being under him and getting fucked for real, hard and fast.

It's a nasty fuck, hot and needy in the middle of this dirty abandoned shop. Both of you grunt softly, pushing your over-heated bodies hornily against each other. Sampo's sweat is dripping down on your back from the tips of his blue hair. His long fingers are slippery on your skin, where they sprawl over your hip.

"F...fuckkk..ah ah..too hot..."

He sounds so pretty like that, all whiny and desperate. It makes your pussy throb around him. But you chuckle softly,

"I thought you could stand the heat, sweetheart?"

"Sampo Koski isn't affected by the hot weather. Only by you and your hot pussy."

"Simp," you say as you smile and press your ass needily against him and clench said pussy around his long cock, eliciting another whiny moan from him.

"Tease," he whimpers in your ear and rolls his hips against yours, burying his hard length even deeper in your hot cunt.

"Ya grip me so greedily with that cute pussy. Wanna milk my poor cock dry, huh princess?"

He groans, low and horny, as he pushes himself into a standing position again, grabbing your hips with both hands, drilling his long cock even harder and faster into you, filling the small room with the nasty noises of his cock fucking into your soaking wet cunt.

"Oh shut up, idiot. And I am still mad at you for getting us into this situation in the first place."

But you smile while you say it, and maybe you moan a little when he grabs your hair to pull you into a standing position. You reach behind you to grab a handful of his hair that’s damp from the sweat and tug on it to pull his face down to your level. Sampo definitely moans when you bring his lips to yours, and your tongues meet in an open-mouthed, heated, sloppy kiss that makes spit run down your chin.

You can feel his firm, lean muscles press against your back, the defined pecs and taut abs that are slippery from sweat but feel so good against your naked skin. And his lips are so soft, tongue expertly stroking yours with hungry deep licks, while that pretty cock works its magic and fucks you with deep fast thrusts that make even more heat coil deep inside your belly.

He licks your bottom lip when you pull away from the kiss, grinning at you, green eyes heavy-lidded and full of lust.

"Just admit that my cock makes it all worth it."

"Hmm, nah, you have to earn the praise first. You didn't even make me cum yet, baby."

"Ok, your wish is my command, sweetheart."

You moan softly when Sampo's fingers find your puffy clit, rubbing it in slow circles, flicking his thumb over it, twirling it gently between two fingers, making you mewl and your hips buck uncontrollably. Even more heat is spreading through your body, starting in your toes and wandering up all the way to your cheeks.

You close your eyes and slump against Sampo, knowing he is strong enough to hold you. Your breath comes out in harsh, loud pants and needy, soft mewls as you let him pamper your pussy. Fucking you with his pretty cock, and rubbing your clit with his expert fingers.

"Sampo...ah fuck...!"

He makes you cum so hard on his cock, the heat almost unbearable, your orgasm crashing over you in such stormy waves that you can only tremble wildly in his arms, your cunt clenching hard on his long hard cock, not able to hide the intensity of your orgasm from him.

He fucks you through it, his long cock prodding your sweet spot over and over again, prolonging your orgasm until you are sobbing. And he doesn't stop after that.

Sampo keeps you on his cock, your twitching cunt stuffed with his hard length. The fingers of his left hand dig into your hip while the other hand continues to rub your clit furiously.

A feral-sounding cry escapes your lips, and you instinctively try to push his hand away. But it's a half-hearted attempt, and Sampo chuckles softly.

"Uh uh, princess, stay right here. You said I have to earn the praise. Sampo Koski takes those things seriously. What kind of business partner would I be if I didn't?"

"Fuckkk, Sampo..."

Your clit pulses hotly as his fingers flick over it unrelentingly. It's almost too much. But you let him continue. It feels so good. The pleasure is so intense, bordering on painful, but you can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. Only a little more, only one more orgasm...only...

In the end, he rubs two more out of you, overstimulating you so much that you sob his name. You're on your tiptoes, your pussy tensing up around his long cock as you can't hold back anymore and squirt all over him, bathing his pretty cock and taut balls in your juices before your creamy mess drips onto the dirty floor.

You are still trembling and mewling when Sampo's arms tighten around you, and he rams his long cock deep into you. He moans in your ear, a loud, needy sound that makes your spent cunt twitch around him again.

He cums so hard that you can feel his pretty cock throb inside you as he pumps your pussy full with several thick spurts, adding his hot cum to your already sticky wet mess.

He slowly pulls out afterward, both of you panting heavily. Your legs shake, and you steady yourself hastily on the counter, pulling a face as your mind clears again from the horny daze you have been in the last minutes.

And, of course, Sampo's annoying, teasing voice fills the room,

"I think I fulfilled your order. Never seen you squirt so much, darling. Maybe we should run more often from the authorities if it turns you on so much."

You huff and turn around to glare at him but can't stop an affectionate grin from tugging at the corners of your lips when you look at Sampo's pretty face,

"I hate you so much."

Glowing green eyes meet yours, glittering with amusement, and Sampo leans down, one hand cupping your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, voice dripping with that teasing tone again,

"Aww, no you don't. And I can always fuck you once more if you need more convincing. We probably have to stay here for a while longer anyways."

AHAHAHAH he drives me insane!! It was so much fun to write this!! I know he would annoy me and at the same time make me want to fuck him. Those are simple facts and I am not ashamed to admit it lmaooo.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed our little trip to the desert planet with this blue-haired idiot!! Please let me know what you think.

Comments and reblogs would be super sweet!!

[lady-raziel]

Somewhere, in another timeline...Bernie Sanders is finishing out his second term as president.

(a coping-method scenario)

Back in 2016, the Democratic Party saw that denying his appeal and pushing forward with Hillary Clinton would be catastrophic—she didn’t have the appeal, and pushing forward another historic first right after Obama might galvanize the right wing further into feeling that America was no longer “for them.” The potential risk was too great in radicalizing that bloc, and as strange as it seemed, Bernie was the safer choice. He faces Donald Trump in the general election—and many pundits decry the sad state of today’s politics, where the only choices are a “socialist kook” or a reality television star. Trump’s odd mannerisms and morally questionable behavior, however, manage to turn off enough people that they’d rather not vote at all. After careful consideration, the Democrats do decide to take a chance on a female VP running mate (after all, the Republicans had set precedent with Sarah Palin in 2008)-- Senator Amy Klobuchar gets tapped to balance the ticket. With the slightly lower voter turnout on the right, and the left energized with a surging youth vote, Bernie Sanders becomes the 45th president of the United States, and America gets its first female VP with Amy Klobuchar.

Trump, who had honestly never intended on winning anyway, uses the loss as planned to claim fraud and launch his own cable streaming channel- TNN, Trump News Nation- intended as a rival to Fox News. He repeatedly tries to sue over the “stolen” election—this had all been intended to make sorely needed funds for his hemorrhaging business ventures after all. TNN draws massive ratings on launch, but as the months go by, views trickle off as watchers grow exhausted of hearing about politics through the context of Trump’s own grievances. Most filter back to Fox News, where at least the diet of mostly fabricated nonsense and conspiracy theories are varied. TNN’s most viewed show is a variation on the Apprentice, where contestants compete to gain Donald’s political endorsement and “mentorship.” None of the winning show contestants ever end up winning their political races. By 2018, viewership is minimal and stagnant, any ad revenue has dried up, and TNN shutters its doors. Trump moves on to his next failed business grift, fading from public relevance only to be occasionally remembered as “that time a reality tv personality ran for president…can you believe that happened?” American politics forgets him as another failed presidential candidate, and the GOP moves on, reexamining their strategy after losing to a Democrat once again.

Bernie’s presidency isn’t all sunshine and roses. The young progressives who voted him in find themselves frustrated with the lack of sudden progressive changes he’s actually able to make due to the constraints of the presidency—one still needs to work with Congress, after all. And Washington doesn’t exactly warm up to the formerly Independent senator with a leftist bent quickly. But landmark bipartisan legislation on climate change that includes concessions to congressional Republicans on taxes proves to be very successful. Despite controversy on some of the legislation's corporate tax restructuring (part of Republican demands), the tax cuts and benefits for the vast majority of Americans have appeal to even those who questioned the value of climate change measures.

By the 2020 election, Bernie’s favorability is substantial, in addition to a boost from quick action in tackling a small, ultimately containable new virus. Regardless, Bernie is able to leverage providing funds for vaccine research to help contain and prevent future outbreaks to drug companies, in exchange for negotiating price caps on certain drugs. The combined result is more than enough to hand him a win in 2020 against Ted Cruz—who’s off-putting “serial killer vibes” and right-leaning deep Texas persona prove to be buzzkills for the GOP’s attempt at leaning right as a rebrand.

The fields for both parties are packed in the 2024 primaries—but ultimately Senator Cory Booker clenches the Democratic nomination, and the Republicans take a chance on Representative Liz Cheney, hoping that the combination of the Cheney name and a female candidate a la the Sarah Palin gambit will be what’s needed to turn their losing streak around. It’s a tight race, in the end—pundits pontificate on how “polarized” the nation has become, as rhetoric flies about the Cheney legacy and calling Liz everything from a warmonger to “the worst candidate America has ever seen who will do serious damage to the heart of the nation.” Voters on the left debate the potential of the first female president vs rehashed talking points from the Bush era and the legacy of wars in the Middle East.

The pick of Booker by the Democratic establishment, who are fairly eager to regain control over the nomination process and candidate selection after having to cede control and allow Bernie's candidacy last time, ultimately reflects that the party and elites have not learned the lesson 2016 should have impressed upon them. Instead of allowing the voters interests to shape the primaries, they continue to wield control and painstakingly fixate over the specific demographics of candidates, trying to find the right "mix" that they think moderate voters will "tolerate." Booker, despite his accomplishments, is ultimately the victim of this, as he doesn't have the revolutionary appeal of Obama, despite frequently being painted as "Obama 2.0." The Democrats fail once again to learn that what voters truly care about is not a candidate fitting certain demographic boxes, but the strength of their ideas and narrative.

Ultimately, the voters go with Liz Cheney, who historically becomes the first female president of the United States. Republicans are jubilant at taking back the White House (and that they were able to claim a historic first and deny Democrats the honor-- not that they'd say it outright, since they'd sought to strike a contrast between running Cheney just as a candidate and not as a woman). Despite the outcome of the election, it's unclear whether the Democratic establishment finally learns that lesson-- or retreats into itself pointing fingers and throwing blame at "not picking a female and losing credibility as the party of progress." Rumors had been flying that Hillary was going to try again—ultimately turning out to be false (but perhaps not entirely untrue-- she had been approached and was considering it). Some Democrats point out that "progress" should be expressed through innovative and progressive policies that will APPEAL to different demographics, instead of ignoring stagnant policies to focus on demographics alone...time will tell if their voices are heard.

As for Joe Biden, one of the longstanding members of the political sphere, after serving as Obama's VP, he retires to his home in Delaware, only occasionally being seen at major political events here and there. The largest amount of attention he gets is a moment in 2021 that spawns many, many memes-- a viral video is captured of Biden enjoying an ice cream when it falls to the floor, at which point the former VP stares at the melting cone and declares "I'm Dark Brandon." No one has any clue what he's talking about, and it's written off as just another "Uncle Joe" gaffe. Other than that, not much is heard from Biden. People do say, however, that occasionally the man stares off into the distance with a far-off look of horror, as if he is somewhere else entirely...and witnessing something awful.

As Cheney is sworn in as president, the progressive corners of the internet mourn, citing the actions of Dick Cheney and decrying that this new administration might be "the death of democracy." A viral Tweet (yes, TWEET) with millions of likes reads "bruh this has to be the darkest timeline, there's no way this could be any worse 😫"

(If only they really knew...)

[frankendykes-monster]

Former NFL star Michael Oher, subject of the book and movie "The Blind Side," alleges that the couple who took him in as a teenager misled him into believing they were adopting him — and instead placed him in a conservatorship, according to a court filing Monday. "The lie of Michael's adoption is one upon which Co-Conservators Leigh Anne Tuohy and Sean Tuohy have enriched themselves at the expense of their Ward, the undersigned Michael Oher," the petition to terminate the conservatorship in Shelby County Court in Tennessee said. The story of Oher and the Tuohy family became the subject of an Oscar-winning film, “The Blind Side,” starring actor Sandra Bullock in the role of Leigh Anne Tuohy. The film, based on the Michael Lewis book of the same name, chronicled Oher’s life as a homeless child through his college football career and eventual NFL stardom.

The Tuohys negotiated a deal with 20th Century Fox that left Oher without any payment for the rights to his name, likeness and life story while the Tuohy family received a contract price of $225,000 in addition to 2.5% of the film’s net proceeds, the petition states. The film has grossed over $300 million, the petition says. A $200,000 donation was also made to Leigh Anne Tuohy's charitable foundation. Oher made no money off the film, the petition said, which was released after he completed his college career and would not have impacted his NCAA eligibility. According to the petition, Oher does not recall signing the agreement for the rights to his life story. The document has a signature that appears to be his, but "nobody ever presented this document to him with any explanation."

His petition accuses the Tuohys of a breach of their fiduciary duty as conservators “so gross and appalling that they should by sanctioned by this court." Oher was a ward of the state of Tennessee by the age of 11 and was homeless as a child, according to the filing. A friend's father helped Oher enroll in Briarcrest Christian School in 2002, where Oher played both basketball and football. The families of classmates often let Oher, who fell through the cracks of a "broken social system," stay in their homes during his time, the petition said. "Where other parents of Michael's classmates saw Michael simply as a nice kid in need, Conservators Sean Tuohy and Leigh Anne Tuohy saw something else: A gullible young man whose athletic talent could be exploited for their own benefit," the petition said.

[911bts]

(link to official post from IATSE's twitter account)

IATSE's Area Standards Locals Pen Joint Letter as ASA Negotiations with AMPTP Begin:

Dear members, Today, the 23 Area Standards Agreement (ASA) Locals begin negotiations with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) in Los Angeles, with the ASA Bargaining Committee presenting an initial package of members' demands.

For nearly a year, we have surveyed and listened to you, our members, and worked with our Local bargaining committees to define your priorities.

Partnering with the International bargaining team, we've crafted formal proposals that reflect your feedback.

Over the next two weeks, our goal is to enhance the working conditions and economic standards of every member working under the Area Standards Agreement.

Our proposals include: - Significant wage increases - Uniform benefit rate for all jurisdictions with significant increases - Protections against AI - Improving rest periods and increasing penalties - Overtime improvements - Additional holidays - Revising and/or eliminating specific sideletters - Sick leave enhancements. - Improved safety and specialized work provisions

Our goal is to build on the foundation we started three years ago by continuing to improve working conditions in the ASA.

We are committed to securing substantial contributions into the National Benefit Funds to replenish the fund's reserves and your individual CAPP accounts to pay for your health insurance. We are also deeply aware of our members' desire to improve annuity and pension contributions to help secure your future retirement.

Together, we are stronger. We remain united and committed to securing a tentative agreement that all 23 Locals will be pleased to ratify. We will continue to keep you updated throughout this process.

In solidarity, Joseph Miller, Business Agent Local 38 Simonette Berry, Business Agent Local 478 Melissa Purcell, Business Agent Local 488 Gordon Hayman, Business Manager Local 493 Robert Morales, Business Representative Local 122 Mike Akins, Business Agent Local 479 Sierra Robinson, Business Agent Local 488 Luis Neftaly Nieves, Business Agent Local 494 Cynthia O'Rourke, Business Agent Local 161 Bryan Evans, Business Representative Local 480 Mike (Bubba) Matesic, Business Agent Local 489 Irish Barber, Business Agent Local 665 James Butler, Business Agent Local 209 Chris O'Donnell, Business Manager Local 481 Kellie Larson, Business Agent Local 490 Apple Thorne, Business Representative Local 720 Pam Boyd, Recording Secretary Local 336 Laura King, Business Manager Local 484 Darla McGlamery, Business Agent Local 491 Rosemarie Levy, Business Representative Local 798 Jimmy Roberts, Business Manager Local 477 David O'Ferrall, Business Agent Local 487 Peter Kurland, Business Agent Local 492 Carl Mulert, National Business Agent USA829

[tailschannel]

HOLLYWOOD ACTORS AND STUDIOS ANNOUNCE TENTATIVE AGREEMENT, ENDING HISTORIC STRIKE

A tentative agreement has been officially reached between Hollywood's actors' union and studios, ending the historic labour disruption.

SAG-AFTRA's tentative deal with the AMPTP secured "above-pattern" minimum compensation increases, provisions for consent and compensation to protect members from artificial intelligence, and streaming participation bonuses.

Dear SAG-AFTRA Members: We are thrilled and proud to tell you that today your TV/Theatrical Negotiating Committee voted unanimously to approve a tentative agreement with the AMPTP. As of 12:01 a.m. PT on Nov. 9, our strike is officially suspended and all picket locations are closed. We will be in touch in the coming days with information about celebration gatherings around the country. In a contract valued at over one billion dollars, we have achieved a deal of extraordinary scope that includes "above-pattern" minimum compensation increases, unprecedented provisions for consent and compensation that will protect members from the threat of AI, and for the first time establishes a streaming participation bonus. Our Pension & Health caps have been substantially raised, which will bring much needed value to our plans. In addition, the deal includes numerous improvements for multiple categories including outsize compensation increases for background performers, and critical contract provisions protecting diverse communities. We have arrived at a contract that will enable SAG-AFTRA members from every category to build sustainable careers. Many thousands of performers now and into the future will benefit from this work. Full details of the agreement will not be provided until the tentative agreement is reviewed by the SAG-AFTRA National Board. We also thank our union siblings — the workers that power this industry — for the sacrifices they have made while supporting our strike and that of the Writers Guild of America. We stand together in solidarity and will be there for you when you need us. Thank you all for your dedication, your commitment and your solidarity throughout this strike. It is because of YOU that these improvements became possible. In solidarity and gratitude, Your TV/Theatrical Negotiating Committee.

The contract, valued at one billion USD, has yet to be ratified, but the union announced that the strike will end this Thursday, 9 November 2023 at midnight PST.

Sonic movie screenwriter Pat Casey acknowledged the announcement late Wednesday night on X, the social media website formerly known as Twitter, and said that he's "excited that everyone in this business, cast, crew, everybody, can finally get back to work doing what we do best - entertaining people!"

No word from Paramount as of yet, or the studio's upcoming production plans for the third Sonic the Hedgehog film, currently scheduled to debut in 2024.

[theculturedmarxist]

In a new article titled “Ukraine’s Lack of Weaponry and Training Risks Stalemate in Fight With Russia,” The Wall Street Journal’s Daniel Michaels reports that western officials knew Ukrainian forces didn’t have the weapons and training necessary to succeed in their highly touted counteroffensive which was launched last month.

Michaels writes:

“When Ukraine launched its big counteroffensive this spring, Western military officials knew Kyiv didn’t have all the training or weapons — from shells to warplanes — that it needed to dislodge Russian forces. But they hoped Ukrainian courage and resourcefulness would carry the day. “They haven’t. Deep and deadly minefields, extensive fortifications and Russian air power have combined to largely block significant advances by Ukrainian troops. Instead, the campaign risks descending into a stalemate with the potential to burn through lives and equipment without a major shift in momentum.”

The claim that western officials had sincerely believed Ukrainian forces might be able to overcome their glaring deficits through sheer pluck and ticker is undermined later in the same article by a war pundit who says the US would never attempt such a counteroffensive without first controlling the skies, which Ukraine doesn’t have the ability to do:

“America would never attempt to defeat a prepared defense without air superiority, but they [Ukrainians] don’t have air superiority,” the U.S. Army War College’s John Nagl told WSJ. “It’s impossible to overstate how important air superiority is for fighting a ground fight at a reasonable cost in casualties.”

Antiwar’s Dave DeCamp writes the following on the latest WSJ revelation:

“Leading up to the Ukrainian counteroffensive, which was launched in June, the Discord leaks and media reports revealed that the US did not believe Ukraine could regain much territory from Russia. But the Biden administration pushed for the assault anyway, as it rejected the idea of a pause in fighting.”

So the empire is still knowingly throwing Ukrainian lives into the meat grinder of an unwinnable proxy war, even as western officials tell the public that this war is about saving Ukrainian lives and handing Putin a crushing defeat whenever they’re on camera.

This attitude from the empire is not a new development. Last October The Washington Post reported that “Privately, U.S. officials say neither Russia nor Ukraine is capable of winning the war outright, but they have ruled out the idea of pushing or even nudging Ukraine to the negotiating table.”

Now why might that be? Why would the western empire be so comfortable encouraging Ukrainians to keep fighting when it knows they can’t win?

We find our answer in another Washington Post article titled “The West feels gloomy about Ukraine. Here’s why it shouldn’t.”, authored last week by virulent empire propagandist David Ignatius. In his eagerness to frame the floundering counteroffensive in a positive light for his American audience, Ignatius let slip an inconvenient truth:

“Meanwhile, for the United States and its NATO allies, these 18 months of war have been a strategic windfall, at relatively low cost (other than for the Ukrainians). The West’s most reckless antagonist has been rocked. NATO has grown much stronger with the additions of Sweden and Finland. Germany has weaned itself from dependence on Russian energy and, in many ways, rediscovered its sense of values. NATO squabbles make headlines, but overall, this has been a triumphal summer for the alliance.”

Anyone who believes this proxy war is about helping Ukrainians should be made to read that paragraph over and over again until it sinks in. The admission that the US-centralized power structure benefits immensely from this proxy conflict is revealing enough, but that parenthetical “other than for the Ukrainians” aside really drives it home. It reads as though it was added as an afterthought, like “Oh yeah it’s actually kind of rough on the Ukrainians though — if you consider them to be people.”

The claim that this war is about helping Ukrainians has been further undermined by another new Washington Post report that Ukraine is now more riddled with land mines than any other nation on earth, and that US-supplied cluster munitions are only making the land more deadly.

That’s right kids! We’re turning Ukraine into an uninhabitable wasteland of death and dismemberment to save the Ukrainians.

We should probably talk more about the fact that the US empire is loudly promoting the goal of achieving peace in Ukraine by defeating Russia while quietly acknowledging that this goal is impossible. This is like accelerating toward a brick wall and pretending it’s an open road.

The narrative that Russia can be beaten by ramping up proxy warfare against it makes sense if you believe Russia can be militarily defeated in Ukraine, but the US empire does not believe that Russia can be militarily defeated in Ukraine. It knows that continuing this war is only going to perpetuate the death and devastation.

“Beat Putin’s ass and make him withdraw” sounds cool and is egoically gratifying, and it’s become the mainstream answer to the problem of the war in Ukraine, but nobody promoting that answer can address the fact that the ones driving this proxy war believe it’s impossible. In fact, all evidence we’re seeing suggests that the US is not trying to deliver Putin a crushing defeat in Ukraine and force him to withdraw, but is rather trying to create another long and costly military quagmire for Moscow, as western cold warriors have done repeatedly in instances like Afghanistan and Syria.

Wanting to weaken Russia and wanting to save lives and establish peace in Ukraine are two completely different goals, so different that in practice they wind up being largely contradictory. Drawing Moscow into a bloody quagmire means many more people dying in a war that drags on for years, with all the immense human suffering that that entails.

The US does not want peace in Ukraine, it wants to overextend Russia, shore up military and energy dominance over Europe, expand its war machine and enrich the military-industrial complex. That’s why it knowingly provoked this war. It’s posing as Ukraine’s savior while being clearly invested in Ukraine’s destruction.

It is not legitimate to support this proxy war without squarely addressing this massive contradiction using hard facts and robust argumentation. Nobody ever has.

[theoutcastrogue]

A copyright lawsuit filed by several major publishers puts the future of the Internet Archive's scan-and-lend library at risk. In a recent appeal, the non-profit organization argued that its solution is protected fair use and critical to preserving digital books. This position is shared by copyright scholars, the Authors Alliance, and other supporters now backing IA in court.

The Internet Archive (IA) is a non-profit organization that aims to preserve digital history for generations to come. The digital library is a staunch supporter of a free and open Internet and began meticulously archiving the web over a quarter century ago.

In addition to archiving the web, IA also operates a library that offers a broad collection of digital media, including books. Staying true to the centuries-old library concept, IA patrons can also borrow books that are scanned and digitized in-house.

Publishers vs. Internet Archive

The self-scanning service is different from the licensing deals other libraries enter into. Not all publishers are happy with IA’s approach which triggered a massive legal battle two years ago.

Publishers Hachette, HarperCollins, John Wiley, and Penguin Random House filed a lawsuit, equating IA’s controlled digital lending (CDL) operation to copyright infringement. Earlier this year a New York Federal court concluded that the library is indeed liable for copyright infringement.

The Court’s decision effectively put an end to IA’s self-scanning library, at least for books from the publishers in suit. However, IA is not letting this go without a fight and last week the non-profit filed its opening brief at the Second Circuit Court of Appeals, hoping to reverse the judgment.

Support from Authors Alliance

IA doesn’t stand alone in this legal battle. As the week progressed, several parties submitted amicus curiae briefs to the court supporting IA’s library. This includes the Authors Alliance.

The Authors Alliance represents thousands of members, including two Nobel Laureates, a Poet Laureate of the United States, and three MacArthur Fellows. All benefit from making their work available to a broad public.

If IA’s lending operation is outlawed, the authors fear that their books would become less accessible, allowing the major publishers to increase their power and control. The Alliance argues that the federal court failed to take the position of authors into account, focusing heavily on the publishers instead. However, the interests of these groups are not always aligned.

“Many authors strongly oppose the actions of the publishers in bringing this suit because they support libraries and their ability to innovate. Authors rely on libraries to reach readers and many are proud to have their works preserved and made available through libraries in service of the public.

“Because these publishers have such concentrated market power […], authors that want to reach wide audiences rarely have the negotiating power to retain sufficient control from publishers to independently authorize public access like that at issue here,” the Alliance adds.

This critique from the authors is not new. Hundreds of writers came out in support of IA’s digital book library at an earlier stage of this lawsuit, urging the publishers to drop their case. [...]

Copyright Scholars Back IA

In a separate amicus brief, several prominent legal and copyright scholars, many of whom hold professor titles, raise similar arguments. They believe that IA’s lending system is not that different from the physical libraries that are an integral part of culture.

“Libraries have always been free under copyright law to lend materials they own as they see fit. This is a feature of copyright law, not a bug,” the brief reads.

What is new here, is that publishers now assert full control over how their digital books are treated. Instead of allowing libraries to own copies, they have to license them, which makes it impossible to add them to the permanent archive.

“The major publishers refuse to sell digital books to libraries, forcing them to settle for restrictive licenses of digital content rather than genuine ownership. Moreover, publishers insist they can prevent libraries from scanning their lawfully purchased physical books and lending the resulting digital copies.” [...]

[gay-spock]

here’s a compilation of why rick berman of star trek fame could have ruined the franchise with his bigotry, thanks to @/thisismewhatevs on twitter:

- rick berman is usually cited by writers as the main reason gay characters were not allowed on screen in TNG/VOY/DS9/ENT even though gene roddenberry specifically wanted gay representation in the 1980s

- notably, he is responsible for demanding female actors be "sexed up" in various ways including jeri ryan's catsuit and padding terry farell's breasts

- when terry farell asked for a reduced contract similar to those of her male costars, she was fired, leading to the sudden death of jadzia dax

- with seven of nine's catsuit, not only was it berman's idea to make her "born sexy yesterday" her original costume pinched her neck so much she kept passing out. rather than change it, berman brought in nurses to administer oxygen between takes

- berman would continually comment on the appearance of female actors to the point that marina sirtis developed an eating disorder. sirtis also mentions how tight her corset and how large her breast padding was under her "uniform"

- berman was left in charge of trek because he was in the right place when roddenberry got sick. He had no experience with scifi previously and didn't really believe in roddenberry's vision of the future:

- In addition to being a dick to denise crosby after pushing her out, he's also the reason for wil wheaton was kicked out for similar contact negotiation as terry farrell

- harry kim was never promoted from ensign since berman hated his actor, garrett wang, according to him

- enterprise was a step backwards in a lot of ways because berman had far more creative control (seasons 1-3) and took a much more hands on writing role. here's t'pol actor jolene blalock discussing his sexualization of her

- as DS9 went on, garak and bashir spent less time together and garak was given zyial as an incredibly gross love interest because andy robinson's portrayal as queer coded made berman uncomfortable

- despite the "equality" promoted on the show, berman hired very few female writers, with less than 30% of episodes having even one female writer during his time

- “Rick Berman is not the only asshole to have worked on Star Trek and he is not the reason for every bad choice from TNG-ENT. However HE WAS the executive producers and show runner in charge of production so much of the sins of that time lie at his feet. When people get confused about how some people seem to "misunderstand" the point of Star Trek and don't know how they can watch/enjoy the "progressive" nature of the show and be such vile sexists and racists, this is how. They let a sexist asshole run the show for three decades. On screen representation is important. It's amazing for people to see themselves in such a hopeful future, but the behind the scenes matters just as much if not more than who is in front of the camera. Representation without responsible storytelling is a tragedy.“ -Deep Space Fine on twitter

this is not to say that TNG/DS9/VOY/ENT are bad shows, or that they shouldn’t be watched, or anything else; but that understanding why these awful choices were made behind the scenes in depicting a “progressive” future. rick berman didn’t agree with this future because he didn’t want others who weren’t white, cis, straight men like him to benefit in the ways he did.

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Dangerous Merchants

Drow merchants are often not who they seem to be. Some of them are more or less independent information brokers, selling not only goods, but also knowledge to those who can pay for it. Some others secretly work for noble drow houses, occasionally serving as their spies, agents or assassins.

Normally, the drow merchants' first and foremost priority is to ensure the prosperity of their business, but they are often fine with taking an additional assignment now and then - for a fee, of course, or in exchange for other benefits.

In the Icewind Dale series we can meet a great example of a prosperous drow merchant who is much more powerful than he seems to be at first glance - Nym.

🕷️ Polite Drow Merchant - Nym can be found in the hidden svirfneblin village in the Lower Dorn's Deep and after being approached, he greets the player characters in drow language:

"Mallan uss, dis malli usstan tal tanas talthalra. Usstan zha Nym."

This line contains some drow words from canon sources and some others that seem to be distorted - but it can probably be translated as: Honoured one, you honour me with this meeting. I am Nym.

Nym is always exceptionally polite while talking to adventurers, referring to them as "honored customers" - however, soon it becomes clear that under this veneer of politeness and almost-friendliness, there is a cold, cunning and manipulative mind.

🕷️ Profit And Self Above All Else - when the player character points out that it is strange to see a dark elf in a village of deep gnomes, since svirfneblin typically hate drow, Nym replies casually:

"Dire need overcomes simple hatred in periods of duress. I am a businessman. Petty racial differences are irrelevant in my dealings. The deep gnomes have gems. I have goods. It's an excellent relationship. Most profitable."

Since svirfneblin from Lower Dorn's Deep are in deplorable situation, doing business with them - or maybe rather taking advantage of their misfortune and lack of other options - must be "most profitable" indeed.

Nym also tries to take advantage of the visiting adventurers: he buys even quite valuable items cheaply, but his prices are high; he offers special services (enchanting a shield), but demands an outrageous amount of gold as a payment; he is also a slippery negotiator - if you are not careful, you may end up paying him way too much for a simple dagger +2.

But as it turns out, in the past Nym was doing much worse things for a profit.

🕷️ Skilled Thief - the player character can ask Nym about his profession, commenting that being an Underdark merchant sounds like a possibly dangerous and short career. Nym replies calmly that for many, it is, but then states:

"However, I have been in this trade for over four hundred years. I have seen my way into and out of places that no other dark elf has ever seen. You'd be surprised how powerful a single merchant can be."

He is clearly proud of his accomplishments and cannot resist boasting a bit:

"I have seen many things, been many places. The gem mines of Thay aren't quite as frightening as some might lead you to believe. The depths of the Moonsea aren't filled with undead. Oh, and the treasury of Dorn's Deep wasn't very secure even when it was inhabited by the dwarves."

Why is the information about the treasury of Dorn's Deep so important?

🕷️ Nym's Stratagem - sometime after 900 DR, the elves from the fortress known as Hand of the Seldarine and the dwarves from Dorn's Deep formed an alliance and together they created many powerful artifacts. At some point, though, many of those artifacts mysteriously vanished from the treasury and inexplicably fell into the hands of enemies - orcs and goblins. The elves accused the dwarves for secretly supplying the orcs and ultimately, the alliance was severed. The war that came after destroyed both nations.

The vanishing of artifacts was apparently Nym's doing:

"The darthiir [elven] and dwarven artifacts produced by the so-called "Time of Cooperation" were too valuable to resist. Selling the artifacts to the goblinoid armies was the best business decision I ever made. It had so many angles to play. The stupid goblins went bankrupt just to buy artifacts that they couldn't use properly. The dwarves who were threatening to attack some drow outposts were implicated, and the darthiir slit their own throats when they decided to wage war against the goblins and dwarves. Silly elves."

🕷️ Drow Cause - Nym's words about "dwarves threatening to attack some drow outposts" suggest that he was acting not only for his own benefit, but also for the benefit of some local drow community - likely Rilauven, drow city located below the caverns of Lower Dorn's Deep.

Was Nym supported, or maybe even employed and sponsored by Rilauvenian drow? Or was he acting independently - and making the entire drow city owing him a debt was only a side consequence of his plan?

It is not really known - but when we meet Nym several decades later during the events of Icewind Dale II, he seems to be on good terms with Rilauvenian leaders like Malavon Despana and he even works for them...

Also, in one of the books that can be found in game, we can find this note:

"It is rumored that a dark elf by the name of 'Nym' was the individual truly responsible for the fall of the Hand. Through magical means he entered the vaults of the dwarves, stole their artifacts, and sold them to the goblinoid armies. He then sat back and watched as the elves and dwarves destroyed their alliance with accusations of guilt.

It is speculated that Nym did this to remove a significant threat to the drow population in the area of the Hand. With the elves and dwarves vanquished, the drow were free to claim their territory as their own with no consequence..."

🕷️ So, to sum things up - beware of the Underdark drow merchants... especially the ones who somehow manage to stay in this dangerous business for centuries.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Playbook: How To Thrive And Enjoy Casually Dating

Some tips on how to casually date and navigate casual relationships (friends with benefits, flings, nighttime companions, and less traditional/transitory relationships) from a place of self-respect and the pursuit of pleasure that keeps your confidence high (and without losing your mind). Hope this helps xx

Consider Dating To Be An Addition – Not A Focal Point – To Your (Already Full) Life

Set Your Standards Ahead of Time

Reframe Dating As a Networking Opportunity

Consider Different Suitable Arrangements

Communicate Directly

Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously

Embrace Living In The Moment

Allow Yourself To Be Selfish

Manage Your Expectations

Never Forget That You’re Single

Practice Self-Care In All Forms

Check In With Yourself Regularly; Modify Your Approach When Necessary

How To Thrive And Enjoy Casually Dating Guide

Consider Dating To Be An Addition – Not A Focal Point – To Your (Already Full) Life: Casual dating should not be used as a "stepping stone" to finding a committed partner. While friends-with-benefits situations can transform into lifelong partnerships, approaching casual dating with a commitment-oriented mindset is setting you up for unnecessary stress and potential heartbreak. You should enjoy and feel respected by the person you're with, but expecting a commitment from a casual relationship is like expecting an orange to grow from an apple seed. There is an incongruence between your actions and your intentions. The main mistake many people make with casual dating is they use it to fill a void – for self-validation, a partner, spouse, body confidence – you name it. However, the only way you can casually date/embrace casual sex is to learn to love yourself first, know what you want, and feel generally fulfilled as a person. Enjoy the casual dating experience for what it is – an indulgence, not a supplement to having platonic relationships, career aspirations, hobbies, health goals, self-care activities, etc. Use casual dating and similar arrangements to embrace hedonic desires – whether that's a shared meal, drinks, or activities that remain behind closed doors.

Set Your Standards Ahead of Time: Check in with yourself, and dive into the casual dating pool with a game plan. Know what you're looking for, establish your boundaries around the sex part of the relationship, remain firm on your non-negotiables, and always be prepared to walk away if you ever feel disrespected or unsafe with a hookup or a date. Knowing what you're looking for can range from a purely sexual relationship to a friends-with-benefits to a nighttime/weekend companion (sex and dinner/drinks type of vibe) or a more casual and less sex-focused dating experience (meeting new people who you might make out or sleep with on occasion). Sexual boundaries include factors like exclusivity, scheduling concerns, preferences regarding intimate activities or sexting, etc. Anyone who tries to coerce you into a situation that makes you uncomfortable is not worth one more second of your time – let alone the privilege to be intimate with you.

Reframe Dating As A Networking Opportunity: Ultimately, dates are a great way to get to know other people as individuals. They don't need to be the loves of your life, ideal partners, or people you end up having a romantic/intimate relationship with. Consider dating as a networking opportunity – to meet people with all different experiences, interests, social circles, career paths, etc. You never know whether these platonic or potentially professional connections can lead outside of any romantic intentions. If you do sense a spark but do not see partnership-level compatibility with the person, consider your fling or series of encounters as an opportunity to build an informal connection with someone and a pleasurable growth opportunity to learn more about yourself and what you want – in life, sexually, or from a future romantic partner.

Consider Different Suitable Arrangements: Once you've acknowledged and accepted your own desires, boundaries, and expectations, it's time to open your mind to consider the different types of arrangements that would satisfy your needs without compromising your standards. Reflect upon the level of intimacy you need outside of the bedroom to feel fulfilled in a casual relationship, the times of the week or day you want to be available to this person, how much you want to socialize with the person (or not at all or somewhere in between).

Communicate Directly: The best part of a casual relationship, friends with benefits, or fling is the opportunity to truly explore your sexuality without having to worry about the performative aspect of a relationship that influences you to feel overly desire to please – regardless of what you do (or don't) receive in return. Be tactful yet direct with your partner about what you want. This experience is designed purely for pleasure. Don't be shy about your desires. Too often, women don't speak up in fear of not being chosen – but this approach backfires because you're ultimately denying yourself from a fulfilling experience, which only breeds resentment down the line and can spill over into your future flings or more serious relationships.

Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously: Allow yourself to let loose, laugh, and enjoy the hours you get to spend with the other person. Don't worry too much about how you're perceived (especially in the bedroom) and whether you're having a "proper" casual dating experience. Let go of societal/purity culture expectations that expect us to date for commitment or experiment with full-fledged hookup culture (both lifestyles attach women's worth to who they're sleeping with and why, rather than acknowledging your sexuality as simply a part of your being).

Embrace Living In The Moment: Consider the purpose of this experience or relationship in this season of your life. Release the notion that you have to anticipate the next stage of the relationship. Enjoy your encounter(s) for what they are: A moment in time where you can share pleasure and a connection with another person you find attractive in some way. There doesn't need to be an underlying meaning to these situations. Whether you know this person for a few weeks, months, or even one night, allow yourself to live in the moment with no regrets about a fun and consensual bonding experience.

Allow Yourself To Be Selfish: With your time, body, priorities, and self-care practices. Don't make your schedule more flexible for a romantic/sexual partner than you would for an acquaintance at the beginning and no more than a friend once/if you two start to hang out regularly or feel very comfortable with each other. Remember: This experience is purely for fun and serves as an addition to your life. Who you are or aren't dating and sleeping with does not determine your worth in any way.

Manage Your Expectations: Embracing casual relationships is not a way to seek out compatibility for a committed relationship. Expecting someone to move mountains for a casual relationship is honestly a red flag (and shows signs of love bombing). While trust and respect are essential between both parties, the level of emotional intimacy will likely never resemble more than a friendship if you're planning to keep things casual. Consideration and thoughtfulness – not romantic gestures – are the biggest green flags here. When people show you who they are and their intentions, through their actions, believe them. Don't overidealize or place grandiose expectations on a lover purely because they are not a platonic interest.

Never Forget That You’re Single: Hyperfixating on one person can only lead to a situationship or the over-idealization of a future with someone who you're not with in pursuit of a serious relationship. While you can choose to be sexually exclusive with someone (condoms are still a must – as your partner is free to do as they please on their own time), it is important to remain open-minded and take time to meet other people. Casual dating is about fun and self-discovery. Date for commitment or a serious relationship if you're seeking emotional and sexual exclusivity.

Practice Self-Care In All Forms: Prioritizing yourself is always essential, especially if you plan on sharing your body and heart with someone in a no-strings-attached fashion. Make sure to maintain a healthy diet, exercise, and sleep schedule. Keep yourself healthy to feel confident, strong, and secure in your body and mind. Stay focused on your career and self-development goals. Dress in a way that makes you feel your best. Establish beauty and self-care routines that make you feel pampered and well taken care of on a daily basis. Make time for your friends, family, and hobbies that you enjoy. Read books, listen to music, take walks, journal, and go to therapy if you can. Intertwine casual relationships into the "pleasure" category of your self-care routine(s). Think of these relationships as indulging in a glass of your favorite wine, a bowl of ice cream, or taking time at night to watch an episode of a reality TV show. It is a fun indulgence that you could live without but make life infinitely more enjoyable and exciting. Allow yourself to feel all of the emotions and bonding chemicals that result from an intimate encounter. Embrace those feelings and the joy of having a human experience. Allow these emotions to be self-referential. Enjoy these encounters as an act of self-love, vulnerability, self-reflection, and personal growth.

Check In With Yourself Regularly; Modify Your Approach When Necessary: Give yourself permission to reflect and change your mind regarding your expectations surrounding casual dating or connections. Remember that you always have the freedom to change your mind and adjust your boundaries to suit your level of comfort within yourself or any interpersonal dynamic. Ensure you communicate these standards to any existing your future partners. Remain unapologetic about finding yourself, standing your ground, and going after what you want.

[geomimetry]

Connor was always deviant

Let’s begin by talking about deviancy: it is a gradual thing. We see androids feel things before they break the red wall and becoming officially deviant. Therefore, I don’t think androids actually have to break a red wall in order to act of their own free will, but that it’s merely there to show the player what’s happening and the magnitude of it. In reality, the moment which the wall “breaks,” is merely the realization that the android doesn’t have to follow their instructions if they don’t want to. But to get to this point, an android needs to have a reason for why they would choose to abandon their directives, be it through trauma or the triggering of another free android. To be traumatized, one needs to feel, and when and why an android begins to feel is a little bit muddy, but eventually it culminates into deviancy (free will).

Now, when we play as Markus, Kara, and Connor, we get to see all three moments of deviation, except ... I don’t think Connor’s deviation was real, because he was already deviant prior to that.

Connor is a prototype investigative model, meaning he’s CyberLife’s experiment in a different branch of androids. Connor is an android designed with an unprecedented amount of autonomy in mind, meaning he’s expected to solve problems by himself with minimal input from others. Every android is autonomous to a degree: tell them to do the laundry, and they will take it from there; you don’t need to instruct them every second of the way. But Connor is meant to operate at a level above that.

Connor receives the mission to apprehend deviants so CyberLife can study them, but he needs to use his own reasoning and decision-making to determine the best approach according to a number of factors. The tasks Connor is given are much more complex, and therefore require a complex way of thinking. But not only is he a hunter; he’s an investigator.

The traits most benefiting to an investigator are curiosity and empathy: both of which are arguably impossible without having emotions. Curiosity is necessary to possess the drive to look for clues even when there seemingly are none. To want to find out what happened, if only to sate your own curiosity. Empathy, because it is vital to be able to put yourself in the shoes of the object of investigation. To think like them, to feel like them, to become them.

A machine doesn’t have emotions and isn’t capable of feeling curiosity nor empathy, which CyberLife probably found troublesome in their quest to create an investigative android. Especially one they were planning on using to catch androids that supposedly have begun to feel emotions. So what did they do? They made their investigative android deviant, but he’s unaware of it.

Having a deviant deviant hunter/investigative model is ingenious because of the following reasons:

1. Its thought process and decision-making is extremely complex and can therefore easily extrapolate and come to a conclusion all by itself.

2. It’s completely autonomous and can make decisions without a human’s approval.

3. It understands and empathizes with its subjects, facilitating negotiation, interrogation, and investigation.

4. It is curious, making it want to acquire more information simply for the sake of sating its curiosity.

5. It is able to be manipulated.

While it is not confirmed in canon that Connor was always deviant, everything we see in the game points towards it. Mainly, I’m referring to the implementation and usage of Amanda. Why would CyberLife need an additional (non-deviant) AI to act as Connor’s handler? And why on Earth would they take walks and boat rides in a virtual reality?

My theory is that Amanda is CyberLife’s solution to manipulating and managing a truly autonomous being to get it to do their bidding and having it stay on track. Connor tracks his relationship to humans, which is a useful feature to have for every android, but he also tracks his relationship to Amanda, an artificial intelligence. CyberLife clearly places importance on Connor’s and Amanda’s relationship to each other. They want Connor to seek the approval of Amanda, acting as a proxy for CyberLife, and for Amanda to dole out praise and criticism and dynamically adjust her attitude to Connor in order to cultivate this.

Amanda is CyberLife’s way to manipulate and keep their deviant under control. But not only does Amanda manipulate Connor—the entire zen garden does. When CyberLife is pleased and happy with Connor, the garden is calm and peaceful, as is Amanda. When Connor fails to live up to expectations, the garden turns cold and inhospitable, as does Amanda. And if Connor should deviate from CyberLife’s intended path for him, Amanda has access to his motor functions.

And if we focus on machine Connor as well as Connor-60, don’t you think they’re suspiciously emotional for being “undeviated” androids? They are capable of feeling vengeful, sad, and terrified. Examples of vengefulness: machine Connor and 60 both seem to make it their personal mission to eliminate the leader of the deviants and deviant Connor respectively. It seems like it’s driven from a place of hate and offense. Example of sadness: machine Connor’s facial expressions and LED color when Hank yells at him to leave and then shoots himself. Example of terror: when 60 panics because the AP700s are deviating right in front of him and there’s nothing he can do to stop it, meaning Amanda will be very disappointed in him—something he seems to place importance in as evident by what he says to Connor before executing him.

So that’s my hypothesis. Connor is a deviant already at the start of the game, but CyberLife tampered with his memories so he wouldn’t be aware of this and therefore be more easily manipulated and held under control. Connor thinks he only started to gain emotions and started to deviate shortly after he met Hank, and that he deviated in the bridge of Jericho. In a way, he did, since he only realized then that he didn’t have to follow CyberLife’s instructions, but he’s always had emotions. CyberLife has just told him over and over again that he didn’t, so he believes in it. Therefore, Connor has had the possibility to disobey instructions at any moment, but he has not understood that he can. Meanwhile, Markus and Kara only go through their cascade of emotions to deviancy a little bit into the game, meaning they didn’t have the emotional capability of understanding that they could disobey before then.

[fatehbaz]

"defending civilization against bugs"

lol the mosquito sculpture

see Pratik Chakrabarti's Medicine and Empire: 1600-1960 (2013) and Bacteriology in British India: Laboratory Medicine and the Tropics (2012)

---

Sir Ronald Ross had just returned from an expedition to Sierra Leone. The British doctor had been leading efforts to tackle the malaria that so often killed English colonists in the country, and in December 1899 he gave a lecture to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce [...]. [H]e argued that "in the coming century, the success of imperialism will depend largely upon success with the microscope."

Text by: Rohan Deb Roy. "Decolonise science - time to end another imperial era." The Conversation. 5 April 2018.

---

---

---

[A]s [...] Diane Nelson explains: The creation of transportation infrastructure such as canals and railroads, the deployment of armies, and the clearing of ground to plant tropical products all had to confront [...] microbial resistance. The French, British, and US raced to find a cure for malaria [...]. One French colonial official complained in 1908: “fever and dysentery are the ‘generals’ that defend hot countries against our incursions and prevent us from replacing the aborigines that we have to make use of.” [...] [T]ropical medicine was assigned the role of a “counterinsurgent field.” [...] [T]he discovery of mosquitoes as malaria and yellow fever carriers reawakened long-cherished plans such as the construction of the Panama Canal (1904-1914) [...]. In 1916, the director of the US Bureau of Entomology and longtime general secretary of the American Association for the Advancement of Science rejoiced at this success as “an object lesson for the sanitarians of the world” - it demonstrated “that it is possible for the white race to live healthfully in the tropics.” [...] The [...] measures to combat dangerous diseases always had the collateral benefit of social pacification. In 1918, [G.V.], president of the Rockefeller Foundation, candidly declared: “For purposes of placating primitive and suspicious peoples, medicine has some decided advantages over machine guns." The construction of the Panama Canal [...] advanced the military expansion of the United States in the Caribbean. The US occupation of the Canal Zone had already brought racist Jim Crow laws [to Panama] [...]. Besides the [...] expansion of vice squads and prophylaxis stations, during the night women were picked up all over the city [by US authorities] and forcibly tested for [...] diseases [...] [and] they were detained in something between a prison and hospital for up to six months [...] [as] women in Panama were becoming objects of surveillance [...].

Text by: Fahim Amir. "Cloudy Swords." e-flux Journal Issue #115. February 2021.

---

---

---

Richard P. Strong [had been] recently appointed director of Harvard’s new Department of Tropical Medicine [...]. In 1914 [the same year of the Canal's completion], just one year after the creation of Harvard’s Department of Tropical Medicine, Strong took on an additional assignment that cemented the ties between his department and American business interests abroad. As newly appointed director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work of United Fruit Company, he set sail in July 1914 to United Fruit plantations in Cuba, Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Panama. […] As a shareholder in two British rubber plantations, [...] Strong approached Harvey Firestone, chief executive of the tire and rubber-processing conglomerate that bore his name, in December 1925 with a proposal [...]. Firestone had negotiated tentative agreements in 1925 with the Liberian government for [...] a 99-year concession to optionally lease up to a million acres of Liberian land for rubber plantations. [...]

[I]nfluenced by the recommendations and financial backing of Harvard alumni such as Philippine governor Gen. William Cameron Forbes [the Philippines were under US military occupation] and patrons such as Edward Atkins, who were making their wealth in the banana and sugarcane industries, Harvard hired Strong, then head of the Philippine Bureau of Science’s Biological Laboratory [where he fatally infected unknowing test subject prisoners with bubonic plague], and personal physician to Forbes, to establish the second Department of Tropical Medicine in the United States [...]. Strong and Forbes both left Manila [Philippines] for Boston in 1913. [...] Forbes [US military governor of occupied Philippines] became an overseer to Harvard University and a director of United Fruit Company, the agricultural products marketing conglomerate best known for its extensive holdings of banana plantations throughout Central America. […] In 1912 United Fruit controlled over 300,000 acres of land in the tropics [...] and a ready supply of [...] samples taken from the company’s hospitals and surrounding plantations, Strong boasted that no “tropical school of medicine in the world … had such an asset. [...] It is something of a victory [...]. We could not for a million dollars procure such advantages.” Over the next two decades, he established a research funding model reliant on the medical and biological services the Harvard department could provide US-based multinational firms in enhancing their overseas production and trade in coffee, bananas, rubber, oil, and other tropical commodities [...] as they transformed landscapes across the globe.

Text by: Gregg Mitman. "Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia's Plantation Economy." Environmental History, Volume 22, Number 1. January 2017. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.]

---

---

---

[On] February 20, 1915, [...] [t]o signal the opening of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition (PPIE), [...] [t]he fair did not officially commence [...] until President Wilson [...] pressed a golden key linked to an aerial tower [...] whose radio waves sparked the top of the Tower of Jewels, tripped a galvanometer, [...] swinging open the doors of the Palace of Machinery, where a massive diesel engine started to rotate. [...] [W]ith lavish festivities [...] nineteen million people has passed through the PPIE's turnstiles. [...] As one of the many promotional pamphlets declared, "California marks the limit of the geographical progress of civilization. For unnumbered centuries the course of empire has been steadily to the west." [...] One subject that received an enormous amount of time and space was [...] the areas of race betterment and tropical medicine. Indeed, the fair's official poster, the "Thirteenth Labor of Hercules," [the construction of the Panama Canal] symbolized the intertwined significance of these two concerns [...]. [I]n the 1910s public health and eugenics crusaders alike moved with little or no friction between [...] [calls] for classification of human intelligence, for immigration restriction, for the promotion of the sterilization and segregation of the "unfit," [...]. It was during this [...] moment, [...] that California's burgeoning eugenicist movement coalesced [...]. At meetings convened during the PPIE, a heterogenous group of sanitary experts, [...] medical superintendents, psychologists, [...] and anthropologists established a social network that would influence eugenics on the national level in the years to come. [...]

In his address titled "The Physician as Pioneer," the president-elect of the American Academy of Medicine, Dr. Woods Hutchinson, credited the colonization of the Mississippi Valley to the discovery of quinine [...] and then told his audience that for progress to proceed apace in the current "age of the insect," the stringent sanitary regime imposed and perfected by Gorgas in the Canal Zone was the sine qua non. [...]

Blue also took part in the conference of the American Society for Tropical Medicine, which Gorgas had cofounded five years after the annexation of Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. Invoking the narrative of medico-military conquest [...], [t]he scientific skill of the United States was also touted at the Pan-American Medical Congress, where its president, Dr. Charles L. Reed, delivered a lengthy address praising the hemispheric security ensured by the 1823 Monroe Doctrine and "the combined genius of American medical scientists [...]" in quelling tropical diseases, above all yellow fever, in the Canal Zone. [...] [A]s Reed's lecture ultimately disclosed, his understanding of Pan-American medical progress was based [...] on the enlightened effects of "Aryan blood" in American lands. [...] [T]he week after the PPIE ended, Pierce was ordered to Laredo, Texas, to investigate several incidents of typhus fever on the border [...]. Pierce was instrumental in fusing tropical medicine and race betterment [...] guided by more than a decade of experience in [...] sanitation in Panama [...]. [I]n August 1915, Stanford's chancellor, David Starr Jordan [...] and Pierce were the guests of honor at a luncheon hosted by the Race Betterment Foundation. [...] [At the PPIE] [t]he Race Betterment booth [...] exhibit [...] won a bronze medal for "illustrating evidences and causes of race degeneration and methods and agencies of race betterment," [and] made eugenics a daily feature of the PPIE. [...] [T]he American Genetics Association's Eugenics Section convened [...] [and] talks were delivered on the intersection of eugenics and sociology, [...] the need for broadened sterilization laws, and the medical inspection of immigrants [...]. Moreover, the PPIE fostered the cross-fertilization of tropical medicine and race betterment at a critical moment of transition in modern medicine in American society.

Text by: Alexandra Minna Stern. Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America. Second Edition. 2016.