#and even then marcia had more dignity than him when it came down to it
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i actually feel so vindicated by tom admitting to being a gold digger because i've been saying that since day one!
#tom haters we are eating good#were are the “princess diana” stans now?#is tomgreg in the room with us right now?#the shiv is emotionally abusive crowd are real quit rn#lmfaoo imagine thinking tom would have stuck around if shiv wasn't rich#clown girl shit#he's just a gold digger that overplayed his hand and now he's bitter because he sold his dignity and his soul for no reason#like y'all watched him choose his wife's abuser over her#“tom loves shiv” like bffr#it was a transactional relationship that went south#ain't no way someone like tom would have put up with all of this shit from a chick from st. paul i can tell you that much#and even then marcia had more dignity than him when it came down to it#tragic!#i hope he dies#he's a misogynistic loser who thought his abused wife was his meal ticket and then he fucked her over once he realized her issues ran deep#and then decided to put himself first as always#neither rava or stewy would choose logan over ken at any point i can tell you that much!#lol and imagine thinking tom wanted to babytrap shiv because he wanted a family#he wanted to secure the bag you morons#god he's so transparent#and yet willa has the life he wants#he's a loser and i hope shiv leaves him with nothing#anti tom wambsgans#shiv roy#succesion#succesesion hbo#fandomshit
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Saints&Reading: Thu., Dec., 31 2020
Commemorated on December 18_ by the new calendar
The Holy Martyr Sebastian (305)
The Holy Martyr Sebastian was born in the city of Narbonum (in Gaul, modernday France), and he received his education at Mediolanum (now city of Milan in Italy). Under the co-reigning emperors Diocletian and Maximian (284-305) he occupied the position of head of the imperial guards. Saint Sebastian was respected for his authority and with the love of the soldiers and those at court: he was a brave man, filled with wisdom, his word was honest, his judgement just, insightful in advice, faithful in his service and in everything entrusted him. But being himself a secret Christ, he much aided his brethren in the faith. The Christian brothers Marcellinus and Mark had been locked up in prison, and at first they firmly confessed the true faith. But under the influence of the tearful entreaties of the pagan-parents (the father Tranquillinus and mother Marcia), and also their own wives and children, they wavered in their intent to suffer for Christ. Saint Sebastian went to the imperial treasurer, at whose house Marcellinus and Mark were held in confinement, and uttered a rousing speech. "O ye valiant warriors of Christ! Cast not away the standards of your victory on account of womanly tears nor let up upon the enemy cast down beneathe your feet, wherein he, in regaining strength would again renew the struggle with you. Over every earthly impulse raise up the glorious banner of your deed. If those, whom ye see weeping should know that there be another life – bereft of death and ill, in the which doth reign unceasing bliss, then assuredly they would wish to enter into it with you, and contemning temporal life, they would instead strive to receive the eternal. For he that desireth not to be servant of life eternal, doth indeed perish in this temporal life in vain". Saint Sebastian thus persuaded the brothers to go through with their act of martyrdom. His speech stirred everyone present. They beheld, how the very face of the saint did shine like that of an angel, and they saw how seven Angels did attire him radiant garb, and a fair Youth did bless the orator and say: "Always shalt thou be with Me". The wife of the imperial treasurer Nicostratus, named Zoa, had lost the ability to speak 6 years previously, and she fell down at the feet of Saint Sebastian, with her gestures imploring him to heal her. The saint made the Sign of the Cross over the woman, and she immediately began to speak and she glorified the Lord Jesus Christ. She said that she had seen an Angel with an open book, from which Saint Sebastian did read his preaching. Thereupon all present came to be believers in the Saviour of the world. Nicostratus removed the chains from Marcellinus and Mark and offered to hide them, but the brothers refused. Mark said: "Let them rend our bodies with cruel torments; they can kill the body, but the soul, warring for the faith, is not to be conquered by them". Nicostratus and his wife asked for Baptism. Saint Sebastian advised Nicostratus to arrange matters such, that Baptism might be made over possibly a large number of people. Nicostratus then requested the Roman prison-head Claudius to send to him all the imprisoned. Conversing with the prisoners, Sebastian became convinced that they were all worthy of Baptism, and he summoned the presbyter Polycarp, who prepared them for the mystery with a catechetical talk, he instructed them to fast, having set for evening time the making of the sacrament. During this while Claudius informed Nicostratus, that the Roman eparch named Arestius Chromatus was pressing him for an explanation as to why the prisoners were gathered at his house. Nicostratus told Claudius about the healing of his wife, and Claudius in turn led to Saint Sebastian his own sick sons, Symphorian and Felix. In the evening the priest Polycarp baptised Tranquillinus with his kin and friends, and Nicostratus and all his family, Claudius and his sons, and likewise 16 condemned prisoners. The newly-baptised numbered 64 in all. Appearing before the eparch Chromatus, Nicostratus told him how Saint Sebastian had converted them to the Christian faith and healed many from sickness. The words of Nicostratus persuaded the eparch. He summoned to him Saint Sebastian and the presbyter Polycarp, being enlightened by them and became a believer in Christ. Together with Chromatus, his son Tiburtius and all his household accepted holy Baptism. The number of the newly-enlightened increased to 1400. In consideration of being a Christian, Chromatus resigned his office of eparch. During this time the bishop at Rome was Saint Caius (afterwards Pope of Rome from 283-296, Comm. 11 August). Saint Caius gave blessing to Chromatus to go to his estates in Southern Italy together with the presbyter Polycarp. Christians unable to undergo the suffering of martyrdom went with them. The priest Polycarp had been dispatched for strengthening the newly-converted in the faith and for making the sacraments. Tiburtius, the son of Chromatus, desired to accept martyrdom and he remained in Rome with Saint Sebastian. Of those remaining, Saint Caius ordained Tranquillinus to the dignity of presbyter, his sons Marcellinus and Mark were ordained deacons, and there remained also Nicostratus, his wife Zoa and brother Castorius, and Claudius, his son Symphorian and brother Victorinus. They gathered at the court of the emperor together with a secret Christian, the dignitary Castulus, but soon the time began for them to suffer for the faith. The pagans arrested Saint Zoa first, praying at the grave of the Apostle Peter. At the trial she bravely confessed her faith in Christ and she died, hung by her hair over rotting refuse; her body then was thrown into the River Tiber. Appearing in a vision to Saint Sebastian, she told him about her death. Presbyter Tranquillinus was the next after her to suffer: pagans pelted him with stones at the grave of the holy Apostle Peter, and his body was likewise thrown into the Tiber. Saints Nicostratus, Castorius, Claudius, Victorinus and Symphorian were seized at the riverbank, when they were pulling out the bodies of the martyrs. They led them to the eparch, and the saints refused his command to offer sacrifice to idols. They tied stones to the necks of the martyrs and then drowned them in the sea. The false-Christian Torquatus betrayed Saint Tiburtius. But not gaining a renunciation of Christ from him, the trial-court gave orders to put young Tiburtius on red-hot coals, but the Lord preserved him: Tiburtius walked through the burning coals, not feeling the heat. The torturers then beheaded Saint Tiburtius. Unknown Christians then buried the saint. Torquatus betrayed also the holy Deacons Marcellinus and Mark, and the dignitary Saint Castulus. After torture they threw Castulus into a pit and buried him alive, but Marcellinus and Mark had their feet nailed to stumps of wood. They stood all night in prayer, and in the morning they were pierced with spears. Saint Sebastian was the final one taken off to torture. The emperor Diocletian personally interrogated him, and persuading himself of the resoluteness of the holy martyr, he ordered him taken out beyond the city, tied to a tree and shot with arrows. The wife of the dignitary Saint Castulus, Irene, went at night in order to bury Saint Sebastian, but found him alive and took him to her home. Saint Sebastian soon recovered from his wounds. Christians urged him to leave Rome, but he refused. Coming nearby a pagan temple, the saint saw the emperors approaching there and he publicly denounced them for their impiety. Diocletian gave orders to remove the holy martyr to the Hippodrome (Coliseum) and there execute him. They killed Saint Sebastian, and cast his body upon the rubbish heap. The holy martyr appeared to the Christian Saint Lucina (Lucy) in a dream vision, and bid her take his body and bury it in the catacombs. And thus the pious Christian buried the body of the saint.
© 1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.
Mark 9:10-16
10So they kept this word to themselves, questioning what the rising from the dead meant. 11 And they asked Him, saying, "Why do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?" 12 Then He answered and told them, "Indeed, Elijah is coming first and restores all things. And how is it written concerning the Son of Man, that He must suffer many things and be treated with contempt? 13 But I say to you that Elijah has also come, and they did to him whatever they wished, as it is written of him. 14 And when He came to the disciples, He saw a great multitude around them, and scribes disputing with them. 15 Immediately, when they saw Him, all the people were greatly amazed, and running to Him, greeted Him. 16 And He asked the scribes, "What are you discussing with them?"
Hebrews 10:35-11:7
35Therefore do not cast away your confidence, which has great reward. 36 For you have need of endurance, so that after you have done the will of God, you may receive the promise: 37 For yet a little while, And He who is coming will come and will not tarry. 38 Now the just shall live by faith; But if anyone draws back, My soul has no pleasure in him." 39 But we are not of those who draw back to perdition, but of those who believe to the saving of the soul.
1Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. 2 For by it the elders obtained a good testimony. 3 By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that the things which are seen were not made of things which are visible. 4By faith Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts; and through it he being dead still speaks. 5 By faith Enoch was taken away so that he did not see death, "and was not found, because God had taken him"; for before he was taken he had this testimony, that he pleased God. 6 But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. 7 By faith Noah, being divinely warned of things not yet seen, moved with godly fear, prepared an ark for the saving of his household, by which he condemned the world and became heir of the righteousness which is according to faith.
#orthodoxy#orthodoxchristianity#ancientchristianity#originofchristianity#spirituality#holyscriptures#gospel#sacredtexts#wisdom
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LOADING INFORMATION ON MAYDAY’S MAIN VOCAL SERENA MOON…
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 21 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: Midas ETC: She won an MSG sponsored vocal competition and was signed thereafter
IDOL IMAGE
serena moon’s image came to midas media like a vision.
she had traipsed on stage with the grace of a newborn deer, eyes wide and thoroughly in awe of every little thing, trembling slightly under the too-bright stage lights. her voice wasn’t made for such a huge stage ( granted, the competition venue was scarcely larger than the choir section in the korean church her family frequented in london ), and serena effectively hid behind the looming figure of the grand piano, her preferred place of comfort. but msg had saw her then, with her slow, accented voice and her occasionally sweet smile, they painted an image of your neighbourhood virtuoso: artistic, shy, and sweet. her soulful voice had been a happy coincidence, an added layer – they were convinced that they could extract the typical ‘girl-group’ sound from her before long.
it helped that she was a pretty teenager with naturally long limbs and a sufficiently tight waist.
they called her their little virtuoso, an intelligent edge to an otherwise pretty package. an innocent girl next door who sang like an angel that could tell you exactly why the chord progression of the song mimicked the feeling of falling while maintaining hope, and for the most part she had taken to the image with ease. it wasn’t too far from her own personality, of which she was lucky for she wasn’t that much of an actor. with the forming of the trainee group that became mayday, the company had instructed her to stay quiet, stay stereotypically innocent and thoughtful as was befitting of her artistically ‘elegant’ image. the measured and contemplative frame of the group’s pretty picture.
( “they aren’t just pretty and sweet, they’re also intelligent! what a well-rounded group” )
how perfect was she! the hardworking not-so foreigner with the lovely voice and thoroughly flawless dancing, the image soon became a larger-than-life pair of shoes that she could never truly fit into. serena would lay awake at night, the stress of not fucking up and the threat of being cut down even before taking flight prevalent with every dream.
many who knew her would laugh a little under their breaths and said conspiratorially: ‘you’re lucky that you look so sweet and innocent!’, for they knew the truth. her personally had been far too rough around the edges, far too brash with her words and a little too cool to be part of the country’s new little fairies. being silent had ensured that her personality stayed secret, and with her little smiles the public might be lulled into the image of quiet dignity, the shy loveliness that might lay beneath.
what they didn’t know was that she stayed aware with her watchful eyes, smoked her cigarettes by the open window of the dorms as she tinkered with the keyboard in her room. dreaming up songs that she probably wont ever sing.
IDOL HISTORY
the concerto of serena moon in g minor 1st movement, vivace
joohyung “james” moon had been a businessman with big dreams in his mind. lee mihyang had fallen in love with him and had no choice but to follow him to the ends of the world. he had studied in london and brought her with him, believing in his prowess like a mantra he wont let go. he had promised her a charmed life: a little flat that would house their growing family in the middle of the city, a growing business that would gain their children entrance to elite schools and circles, a climb that was so far above the struggling lives of their countrymen – riddled with unfair advantages for the rich. in the western world, he had assured her, one could succeed with hard work and be accepted with open arms.
however, the tiny flat was on the outskirts of town, and business turned out to be a small grocery store nestled between rundown shops that hardly scream english refinement. but james stayed positive, and mihyang was blinded by love – thus resulted in four lovely bundles of joy: amelia, twins charlie and serena, and little oliver, rounding up the litter.
the children did not attend prestigious schools, for they had too many mouths to feed, but they flourished nonetheless, their childhood as happy as any.
serena moon was first placed in front of a piano when she was seven. the family was in a nondescript strip mall on a saturday afternoon with the children amusing themselves by the display of second-hand pianos for sale, while john and mihyang strayed towards the booth nearby. they halfway negotiating a deal for a used station wagon when they heard a bubble of laughter and a familiar voice singing out a tune of aladdin’s ‘a whole new world’ along a simplified piano accompaniment.
“that’s cute, did you enrolled serena in piano lessons? is that where our money went the past few months?” “i didn’t… don’t they learn instruments in music classes at school?” “not piano, we bought all of them recorders for school last week.”
a pause, widened eyes. john and mihyang moon abandoned their negotiations and bought a rickety old piano instead, setting it in an already crowded corner of their flat. the little girl played whenever she had a moment to sit down for weeks to come, to the point that had her siblings rolling their eyes when the novelty ran out. mihyang took up a position as a receptionist in a nearby dentist’s office to send their little girl to a prestigious conservatory near the city centre. amelia had muttered to her little sister, not unkindly, that “it was good (she) found something that (she) did well, it wasn’t like (she) could get a scholarship for anything else anyway”. serena blinked and let the jab slip off of her like it was nothing – and dutifully took the tube down to the conservatory every tuesdays and thursdays.
2nd movement, andantino
by the time she was ten serena was considered impressive, but hardly the best.
the problem with being uncommonly gifted was that when the novelty wore off, there was hardly any merit left. at ten years old, she was playing circles around her same-aged counterparts but still falling behind the older, more experienced students. she loved playing the piano, that much was true, but it became evident that in her inquisitive mind that she loved the attention that her parents gave her because of it even more.
what she passionately loved even more was singing.
serena had asked her mother once, just out of curiosity, if she could perhaps join the vocal class in the conservatory along with her piano classes. her mother had looked at her with astonished eyes, as if she was unable to believe her ears, and asked if her younger daughter was feeling the least bit ill before coming into the conclusion that she only felt that way due to the lukewarm response to her latest recital. serena never asked again, but hid away in the spare rooms of the conservatory to play pop & jazz songs while singing along, for she was allowed hobbies and interests, wasn’t she?
on the eve of charlie and serena’s thirteenth birthday, the comfortable balance was soon disturbed. her father’s failure to provide for the family could no longer be ignored, and under the guise of dealing with sick relatives ( that amelia, now sixteen and a grown up who could understand grown up problems, had explained in hushed tones to her younger siblings ) the family was to return to seoul. so serena played one last mournful minuet on her first piano as her family packed up their belongings, their decade-and-a-half long existence in england fitting into eight suitcases and flew into a country the children hardly knew a thing about.
( perhaps it was fortunate then, that lee mihyang had insisted that the children spoke in full korean at home )
now seated in her uncle’s spare apartment in yongin district, serena stared, open-mouthed in wonder, at a group of beautiful girls singing about ‘being a genie for you boy’. she had asked her brother if she was pretty enough to be on television like them, charlie had replied: “it doesn’t matter, you sing better than the lot of them anyway.”
cadenza: a pause before the resolving chord
serena loves her twin brother so, one could not ask for a more supportive force. he was the one who took her to karaokes, letting her sing to her heart’s content – he was the one who linked her to korea’s wealth of underground artists. they would take the long way home after school, stopping by the buskers in hongdae and noting the various late-night shows by indie bands. they would sneak out after curfew by fifteen, slipping past the bouncers with their fake-ids that charlie got from a particularly wily classmate.
it was him who pointed at a particularly shiny poster for a singing competition, and strongly suggested that she might destroy the competition after a verse.
3rd movement, the minuet & trio, marcia moderato
serena moon joined the competition without telling her parents, and prepared a performance of haru haru by tashannie – a song she could sing perfectly with her eyes closed. so she practiced on her electric piano in her room, with the earphones plugged in, only humming in soft tones to the melody. on the day of the competition there was only charlie and oliver in support of the girl that went second-to-last. their parents would undoubtedly think that the whole thing was a farce, a ‘step-down’ from a prestigious career as a classical pianist educated by the royal british conservatory, and amelia, was far too much of a tattling bore to support something she shouldn’t.
but the whole business of keeping it all a secret was taken into question when serena won, against all odds – a surprise to everyone involved. the moon children, how utterly good their sister was even with the standards of industry bigwigs, and midas media, of which the whole competition was sponsored by, that a scarcely vocally trained girl with an accent had blew the competition away. they were so impressed, in fact that along with the ₩1,000,000 prize money, she was to be offered a training contract with the famed entertainment agency.
there was no keeping it hidden now, and sensible charlie had explained it all to their parents. serena kept quiet, knowing full well that if they knew the extent of her preparedness to defy their orders anyway and fake their signatures for the contract no matter what, they’ll lock her up in her room with no way of escape. so with charlie’s smooth words, john moon and lee mihyang had no choice but to take the prize money and agreed to sign away their daughter into the system.
serena had cried with happiness at their assent.
soon after, she was whisked away to after school lessons in the company, finally receiving the vocal training she had so desperately wanted for years on end. the trainers had gone hard on her, only showing a moderately pleased expression at her raw talent once, before swiftly moving on. she needed to work on her breathing, so they sent her to swimming sessions at dawn every day, she needed to sustain with more power, so they sent her to the company gym to work on her core strength. the young girl was pliable, and so thoroughly willing to make all the changes that it was hard to reprimand her. serena had also been intensely trained in dance into exhaustion, her limbs barely making it up and down the stairs of the subway for her commute home every night. the natural progression of her training meant that she was going to be moved out of her parents home and into the trainee dorms, a common way for management to keep an eye on the their trainees’ individual character.
so she left her home at dawn one day, sending a text to her parents and siblings, and only receiving a reply from two out of five. the pretty little thing did not lament at the loss of interest from her parents, for they had three other children who had climbed gracefully into the prestigious space she had created. amelia at this point had been admitted to seoul university medical school, and their parents wasted no time in showering her the attention that she had so wanted since their childhood. serena did not mind, she was singing now and was praised for it, her trainers seemed to be more invested in her development than her family ever was. she must be grateful that anyone would care at all.
4th movement, allegro
mayday was a gift that she did not expect to receive.
after spending almost four years training with girls that came and went, serena slowly shared their desperation to debut. the old serena had been grateful for a place to sing, a place to create, no matter how hidden or secretive, but the new serena had started to seek the validation of strangers, started too wish for more moments on stage. she became most greedy, the way most trainees were, and the dangling promise of a debut had only made her all the more so.
her image was set from the very moment midas scouts had laid eyes on her, and in her eagerness to step into the spotlight she had forced herself into the role of the quiet artist. despite being one and not the other, serena had smiled through most interviews, letting her members speak for her – even when she wanted nothing more than to speak her mind. she became beloved by the fans for her beautiful voice ( still a little too dark a timbre for a typical girl group, but msg had not been named ‘experimental’ for nothing ) and her hardworking, quiet image.
sometimes, in an occasional fan-meeting or a particularly ‘unscripted’ v-live broadcast, the fans would get a swift glimpse of the girl she truly is: a carefree city-girl who took music lightly, and made decisions with her gut feeling above all else. they had praised her for being both light and dark, a mess of contradictions that make up a human– simplifying her complexities and branded her as their little ‘girl of reversals’: someone who looked quiet and soft on the outside, but was actually a nonchalant city girl on the inside. serena didn’t have the heart to correct them that the only thing sweet and soft about her was the way her smile looked under stage lights.
mayday grew in unprecedented speed, and the young girl almost hurt herself from the whiplash. from loveable nobodies to the nation’s little sisters – or something to that effect – mayday had the whole country screaming cheer up! or TT! serena could only imagine how her sister might feel, undoubtedly having to hear mayday’s tracks in various coffee shops around seoul. charlie and oliver had sent reaction videos the first few times it happened, before the novelty ran out. for serena, it was fascinating, and thoroughly rewarding to hear her own voice played back to her – and she enjoyed the feeling of success, basking in it’s light until it wont be enough.
coda: an ending, unresolved
for now serena moon endures, for she still had a long way to go. mayday’s success almost felt like a promise that was granted, and despite so, she kept her head down to compose, create a sound that was less mayday and more serena. she started a youtube channel, the identity of which was part british vlogger - part musician, a soothing balm of a temporary fix, while she’s looking for something far more permanent. a green leaf in years and in her career; only time could tell if she would shudder and rebel, or sink into the cartoonishly unattainable image of perfection.
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@thevioletandroid - continued from here
He stared in disbelief as Marcia switched from broken laughter to open tears, the surreality of it all causing the monster to feel ~ i n c r e a s i n g l y ~ uncomfortable at not knowing what to do in a situation such as this. What might have been a simple task for a lover, friend or even a friendly acquaintance was far beyond his scope of knowledge; decades of ruthless programming came up utterly short against this most unexpected display, that the very same woman who always had a stinging retort ready no matter who or what had raised her ire was now /crying/ brokenly before him. Not once had Marcia ever shown fear before, not even in the face of fear itself, the woman as proud as those damnable saiyans... Yet now here she was, just as human as the rest of them. Cell had seen people cry before. More often than not he’d been the cause of it too, so it came as quite the shock when the violet-haired woman actually /threw/ her arms around his armoured middle, sobbing uncontrollably into his glossy chest. He stood absolutely still, completely stunned at this most uncharacteristic gesture before glancing around the room as though searching for help or a sign of what ought to be done. What if somebody overheard and came knocking? Knowing their luck, it would absolutely happen and wouldn’t that be a sight to behold? A crying woman covered in blood while a legendary killer lurked in the heart of her home... the morbid thought failed to provide any sort of amusement however, shame burning the inside of his throat like sour fire. Nothing about this was funny at all. In truth Cell rather wanted to flee, to let Marcia have her own space until she’d calmed down and rested. Magenta eyes swivelled around the room anxiously until the chimera caught sight of a photograph up on the wall, of his fellow android and a pink-haired girl hugging one another during an outing at some place. They looked happy, almost like family even though it couldn’t have been that long ago since the girl had last been living here; Marcia looked the same as she always did, while the girl - Kandy, Marcia had called her - looked spry and cheerful, though supposedly she was almost grown up now, currently studying somewhere away from home. Which meant that Marcia was quite alone, and probably had been for some time. As Cell stared at the photograph, that ~ u n s e t t l i n g ~ feeling from some time ago reared its ugly head once again, forcing him to stay put and see if /something/ could be done to help at the very least...
Just try.
After all, it was the least he could do after all that Marcia had done for him in the past.
”It’s...” Cell started before stopping short. What, that it was okay? Of course it wasn’t okay. Marcia wasn’t okay, despite being thankfully uninjured from whatever argument had occured outside. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a problem or that she wasn’t hurting somehow, as came the r e a l i z a t i o n that if somebody as strong as her had been reduced to crying over some scuffle on the street, spilling blood for whatever reason, there was much more to the woman’s hurt and suffering than she’d ever let on or had ever dared to show until now.
“It’s alright,” he continued softly a moment later, wrapping his speckled arms around Marcia’s trembling shoulders tentatively. When she did not cry out or push away, the chimera pulled her in as gently as could be comfortably managed, alabaster fingers stroking through tangled locks of violet hair. It too was bloody in patches like her hands and clothing, although was beginning to dry unlike her tears of which there seemed to be no end. Deciding that perhaps Marcia might have liked to preserve what little dignity she had left, the chimera kneeled in order to allow easier access so that she didn’t have to continue pressing her face against rough chitin, shifting their position so that Marcia could rest her head over his shoulder. “I’m here for you, Marcia. I’ll be here for as long as you need.”
#thevioletandroid#[ IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS ]#[ Holy FUCK I am so sorry about this ]#[ This was lost in drafts for like forever ]#[ That emotional development though ]#[ Bringing out the best and worst in our muses ]#[ Who knows!!! ]#[ Probably because Cell's a friggin' manchild so Marcia has more than one child to worry about now ]#[ Ahhh Marcia's reaction and build-up still breaks my heart ]#[ That she's been building this up for a LONG time and still isn't over it ]#[ How could you ever be over that anyway? ]#[ A hard childhood then getting thrown to Dr Gero and muuuuch more later in life ]#[ OCTOBER THE 8TH 2016 ]#[ This is a seriously outdated response but had to get to it at some point bc holy hecie ]#[ asdfghjkj embarassing ]#.n.#[ Cell learning to be GENTLE is my aesthetic ]#[ Not my writing however now that's rusty ]#:[#[ Not much from me today worried over doggo ]#[ Got to go to the vet first thing in a few hours ]#[ CONCERNED CHIMERA SOUNDS ]
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Parks & Rec fanfic: Pawnee Public Library
Seriously, why hasn’t anyone else written library AU of Parks and Rec? It just seems so obvious to me... Crossposted to AO3.
*
Leslie Knope has wanted to be a librarian since she was six years old. Leslie believes in learning and literacy, and that knowledge is power. Leslie loves books. She started out as a page when she was in high school, worked her way up to the circ desk, and spent her summers running the best and biggest summer reading program in the county all through university. (She still has boxes of the Dewey the Bookworm branded notebooks, pencils, balloons and tote bags under her dining room table, along with the first four successive renditions of the mascot costume, and all of her scripts and program plans in a series of cross-indexed binders.) She got her MLIS from Indiana State, and promptly came back home to Pawnee. Leslie manages the collections, children's programming, operational policies, staff training and orientation, community needs assessment, and ongoing grant applications and reporting. She loves her job as assistant director the same way Leslie does everything, with the passion of a thousand firey burning suns. She hates the Parks Department with the same intensity, and not just because Tammy Swanson is the director. Bunch of punk-ass dirt jockeys.
Ron Swanson is the library director. No-one knows where he got his MLIS. When asked to provide documentation to the city clerk's office, he handed over a heavily redacted faxed copy, with everything blacked out but his name and the title of the degree. Ron's views on patron privacy, internet filtering, and challenged materials are all very similar to the American Library Association's official statements on the same. Leslie would appreciate it if you didn't point it out to him, though. The ongoing battle between Marcia Langman and Ron over obscene material in the library collection is the stuff of legend. Marcia tried to ban the entire sexual health section, and since finding out that you needed to fill out a request for reconsideration for each book individually, is reconsidering her plan of attack. Marshall Langman is previewing all 137 books that come up when you search the catalogue for gay sex, just to be prepared.
Donna Meagle is the head of the circ department. She is scarily efficient, and god help you if you ever refer to her as "just" a library tech. After the take-down is over, you will find yourself working every Friday night, all day Saturday and Sunday, and the day after every long weekend for the next year. (She is also in charge of the schedule.) The rest of the county knows that you had better not lose an interlibrary loan from Pawnee Public Library in transit indefinitely and damn well better do that shelf-check ASAP, and you do NOT hoard AV material and refuse to fill interlibrary loan requests, because ILLS are also Donna's domain. She once won a forty-seven minute staredown with Joan Calamezzo over a thirty-five cent fine, but latchkey kids and single moms are often surprised to find that no, they don't owe that fifty dollar fine for overdues that they've been agonizing over, Donna has no idea what they're talking about. Everyone, but everyone, gets treated with the same damn dignity and respect when you come to HER desk.
Jerry has paged and worked the circ desk for his entire adult life. The rest of the library staff had a yearly pool on the number of times he'll get his hand (and his head) stuck in the book drop. He hasn't been allowed to use the laminator since the incident involving Leslie's vintage Harrison Ford READ poster that ended in second-degree burns. Once, he accidentally gave someone a thousand-dollar credit instead of waiving a ten cent fine. To this day, no-one is sure how he did it, even the ILS software vendor, since the system's not even set up to hold a credit balance. His favourite part of the job is shelf-reading.
Tom handles the serial subscriptions and databases, and is the liaison with the local business community. He's the only one in the library who actually likes talking to vendors' reps, and is the self-proclaimed king of promotional swag. He is currently lobbying for a makerspace, and has big plans for when (if) the library gets a 3D printer. Leslie put him in charge of the monthly children's puppet show only once, which is the reason for the "no rap at storytime ever" rule in the staff handbook. Every other Thursday nights, when Tom is on the ref desk, and Donna works circ, there's a standing tradition of a supper break contraband pizza delivery from the upscale artisan place in Eagleton. (Treat yo'self.) Leslie must never know.
April started as the intern, but since she's been hired on permanently, her responsibilities have been expanding in a way she finds truly alarming. Donna will shamelessly use her to deter the patrons who have been upgraded from lonely and talkative to creepy and annoying. Lately, she's been giving them a deadpan stare and telling them that she's the lizard queen, followed by an extensive cross-examination on their views about organ donation. It has about a ninety percent success rate.
Leslie has put April in charge of teen programming, much to April's dismay. To everyone's surprise, it seems to be working, even though her original goal was to run programs no-one would come to. Her guest speaker "ask an undertaker" program was standing room only, and the extreme smoothie competition is set to become an annual event, even though Leslie nixed dog food as an ingredient for next year. April has a growing group of kids at her programs each week who could kindly be described as misfits, and find her equal parts terrifying and fascinating. She will forever deny that the puppy adopt-a-thon was her idea.
It's probably a good thing April doesn't know that Donna is considering putting her in charge of the high school-aged pages in the fall. She will terrify them with an iron, arbitrary, and occasionally benevolent fist, and they will quickly learn that texting in the stacks, or sneaking in one headphone to listen to music while shelving, in strict violation of Section 3.2.7 of the staff handbook, will result in experiencing her best pterodactyl shriek imitation in the other ear when you are least expecting it, followed by punishment duty Windexing dirty picture book covers for the next month.
After an extensive three-week training course that Leslie created from the ground up, Andy has officially taken on the role of Dewey the Bookworm for the summer reading program. There was a multi-part final involved. He passed the essay segment on the fourth try when Leslie hit on the idea of having him submit it as song lyrics, and narrowly avoided breaking bones on the obstacle course practical assignment in full costume. He's become a regular guest at the puppet show the rest of the year, with his guitar. Last month, there was some added excitement when he climbed into the air ducts and emerged with Mr Bitey, a special wildlife guest. Possums are no longer welcome at puppet show.
Donna and April have developed a method of steering Andy in the direction of the one bank of internet computers that face the back wall, by relocating the snack vending machine at the end of the row. Leaving some spare change in his path at the right moment guarantees that he'll wander right past the back row, then followed by "Hey, are you looking at PORN? In the LIBRARY? Ewww, that is nasty!" carrying across the library in Andy's loud, clear speaking voice. Some days, public shaming is even more effective than a six month ban. Unless it's one of the Saperstein siblings, in which case holding up a toddler to pull the fire alarm really is your best option. Ideally, the library would move the internet stations to a more visible location, but that would require rewiring the network cables and coring into concrete to do it, which costs a lot more than quarters for the vending machine. And this way is more fun.
Ann Perkins is forever grateful for ebooks and the self-check machine, because as much as she knows that patron records are confidential and as many times as she's heard Leslie recite the ALA's Library Bill of Rights off by heart, she'd still rather not look Donna, or god forbid, Tom, in the eye while checking out the regency pirate romances that are her secret guilty-pleasure reading addiction. She's organizing a drop-in flu shot clinic at the library for the winter. Leslie has a binder made up already with alphabetized tabs of contingency plans cross-indexed by severity and likelihood of occurrence. Ann isn't sure that they'll need the flood, earthquake, or rationing system for vaccine shortages for causes ranging from raccoon-related delivery delays to Eagleton-related municipal espionage. The last flu shot clinic was picketed, not by anti-vaccine protesters, but because the residents of Pawnee have confused vaccinations and blood donation, and were upset that there were no cookies and juice. This time, Ann will bring refreshments.
Chris Traeger once reclassified the library as an essential service, at Leslie's urging. ("Literacy IS essential, Chris!") Until the first blizzard, because essential services aren't allowed to shut down for poor weather conditions. Ron snowshoed to work, and kept the pipes from freezing with a butane camp stove and a carefully angled battery-operated fan. He was the only one who made it in, staff or public. It was the best work day of his career to date. Chris currently volunteers in his spare time by organizing an audiobook running club, which is exactly what it sounds like.
Leslie loves Ben, but secretly suspects that if he worked in libraries, he would be a cataloguer. Ben's organizing a multi-day Cones of Dunshire tournament, but is running into schedule conflicts with Tom, who's got the program room booked for an educational lecture series for small business community partners. Ben has a sneaking suspicion it's a multi-level marketing scheme.
Jeremy Jamm is THAT board member, the last person you want to speak to the media (or really, anyone) on your behalf, and who will show up like clockwork for any function where there's an open bar. He once got arrested at the state library conference's opening reception for an incident involving the association president's oldest daughter, a convertible, and a case of mistaken identity--or so he claims. The rest of that year's conference was the most relaxing event Leslie's attended since he joined the board. He's been trying to broker a deal with Sweetums to sponsor the summer reading program for the past eight months, even though it's in flagrant violation of two board policies and six operational guidelines.
Tammy Swanson is head of the Parks Department. Leslie has recently learned that Tammy is angling to have a park built on Lot Forty-Eight. Lot Forty-Eight, future home of Pawnee's first branch library, the best branch library ever. But Leslie's development plans are shovel-ready, she has all the matching grant funds in place, and her community needs assessment is a thing of beauty in twelve colour-coded, cross indexed binders with a custom-built multimedia presentation.
It will be several more years before the branch library is built. In its first year of operation, the roof will leak, the air conditioning will be nonexistent, and there will be a raccoon infestation of hideous, unimaginable proportions. The roof will be fixed, the raccoons will be evicted, and the air conditioning will work--intermittently. And it will be a labour of love. Because Leslie Knope loves libraries. (And hates the Parks Department, but that's neither here nor there.)
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NOTES: It will surprise no-one who works in a library that the vast majority of this is pulled from actual experience, second-hand experience, or professional news/gossip (and in some cases, the original is even weirder than fiction), including: trying to ban the entire sexual health section, ILS quirks that can't be duplicated by the vendor (and don't hold a credit balance for found lost items that have already been paid), fine-waiving heartbreak, hoarding AV material and ignoring ILL requests, the desire for 3D printers for no reason other than it's cool, the need for creep-deterrent strategies, extreme food tasting teen programs, picture book windexing and no headphones while shelving, popping up from behind the filing cabinets to comment on computer use, toddlers pulling fire alarms, concrete coring for wiring and budget woes, the possibility of protesters, misunderstanding of what being an essential municipal service technically means, cataloguers (I love and admire you but could never be you), meeting room turf wars, drunk board members at conferences, sponsorship upsets and grant funding, and new branches with no a/c.
#parks and recreation#parks and rec#fanfic#my fanfic#library au#leslie knope#ron swanson#donna meagle#jerry gergich#tom haverford#andy dwyer#april ludgate#ann perkins#chris traeger#ben wyatt#jeremy jamm#tammy swanson#geek librarians#when librarians headcanon#so not sorry#fictional librarian problems
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