#and then take the effort to educate themselves and do better in terms of supporting the community and apologise for what they've done

[daymemebeliever]

Hey Fanguins! Want to Help Real Life Penguins? :D

Why Now?

5 out of the 18 penguin species are listed as endangered

That’s approximately 28% that are endangered, not including those under the “vulnerable” or “near threatened” statuses.

These endangered species include:

The Yellow-eyed Penguin

Northern Rockhopper Penguin

Galapagos Penguin

Erect-Crested Penguin

African Penguin

Cute little guys like these African penguins are predicted to go EXTINCT by 2035.

Biggest Threats to Penguins:

Overfishing

Plastic Pollution

Oil Spills

Habitat Disruption

Invasive Species

Climate Change

So… What can We Do?

I know sometimes it seems hopeless when there are major corporations having extensive negative impacts on the environment.

But there are small, everyday changes you may be able to make to contribute for the better (at least a little).

Small actions can add up over time.

Shop Consciously

Overfishing and unregulated fishing are big contributors to penguin populations decreasing.

Less available prey means penguins have to spend longer time at sea to feed their chicks and themselves. This could force them to abandon their chicks, reach the point of exhaustion and pass away as a result, or return to emaciated chicks.

Seafood Watch is a wonderful resource to ensure the seafood you’re buying has been caught sustainably. https://www.seafoodwatch.org/recommendations/download-consumer-guides

Swap for More Sustainable Options

Aside from seafood, you might be able to make many swaps to reusable products.

Reusable grocery bags/tote bags can actually make transporting groceries easier while reducing plastic usage.

If you have access to clean water, a water filter pitcher or a reusable water bottle are also great options when available! 😊

Swapping plastic containers for aluminum cans or cartons (these are easier to recycle)

Swap balloons for other party favors (many released balloons end up in our oceans). Penguins and other sea animals can choke on or get tangled in these while swimming.

Conscious Pet Ownership

Choose pets responsibly and never abandon a pet if you can no longer take care of it. This could lead to the rise of invasive species.

Keep pets on a leash when outside even when you do not see local wildlife.

Penguins, especially those whose habits are around human populations, are regularly attacked and lethally injured by unattended dogs or cats. These include feral or stray animals that have become invasive.

Learn More Directly from Non-Profits:

SANCCOB is an internationally renowned rehabilitation center for South African seabirds (including African penguins) leading conservation efforts for this species. https://sanccob.co.za/about-sanccob/

The Yellow-Eyed Penguin Trust is another great non-profit located in New Zealand that tracks behavior and nesting patterns of the Yellow-eyed penguins. They also remove invasive predators to ensure Yellow-eyed penguins have a chance at repopulating to sustainable levels. https://www.yellow-eyedpenguin.org.nz/yellow-eyed-penguin-trust/about-the-trust/

Penguins International is a nonprofit that educates about penguins and penguin conservation efforts. https://www.penguinsinternational.org/about-us/

Any AZA-accredited zoos and aquariums that support conservation efforts

Advocate:

Sign petitions encouraging legislation change that aims to reduce climate change or regulate fishing

Write to/email legislators when penguin species are at risk

Donate (if you can/would like):

Both Penguins International and SANCCOB do symbolic penguin adoptions to support penguin conservation.

On SANCCOB’s website, you can choose an egg, hatchling, rehabilitated penguin, or long-term penguin resident to symbolically adopt/sponsor. You even get to give your adopted penguin a name!

The Yellow-Eyed Penguin Trust also accepts donations of various amounts.

I figured since if you follow this blog, penguins have inspired media and art that means a lot to you or that has at least brightened your day. If you’re as amazed as I am about the real life species, please consider taking steps to help or learn more about real penguins. I figured sharing this information, while trying to make these changes myself, are the least I could do to honor these amazing creatures!

Thank you for reading! 😁

(Lol I’ll get off my soapbox now 😉)

Maybe Tom McGrath can explain it better 😉 (skip to 3:16 to hear him talk about how amazing penguins are! 😊)

[sabraeal]

The Man of Progress, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

For all that Mel has planned this exhibition down to the last rosette, both banners and bunting boasting the same proud blues and golds of Piltover itself, there is still a single aspect for which she cannot account: the weather.

“Quite a gamble, planning an event like this in the out of doors.” Cassandra Kiramman’s dark hair may have begun ceding ground to gray, framing the face once famed for being as friendly as looking down a rifle’s barrel— at least by one aspiring journalist, shortly before the Academy put their class paper on temporary retirement— but it hasn’t done anything to soften her. Time may blunt an edge, but if anything, age has only sharpened the councilwoman, honing her to a more ruthless shape. “Could have been quite a disaster for you if the day hadn’t decided to dawn bright and fair.”

Mel slows on these last few stairs up to the Academy’s rooftop, allowing the councilwoman to keep pace. The stairs are new constructions, curving up the back of the building the way Kino had taught her to tread up dunes and down mountainsides. Switchback, he’d called it, laugh catching in his throat. Named like a weapon, and more useful than most of them. They sway at the slightest provocation, at the whim of the breeze or the mercy of her weight— any weight, really; even a dropped handkerchief might set them to a tremble. But the Revered Professor insisted on the superiority of the design, that the genius of it lay within the mobility of its form rather than the rigidity of its parts— the flexibility of a willow is what keeps it safe in a storm, is it not? His giggle put punctuation to the question. All part of the Academy’s rigorous dedication to everyday safety.

*

“Its resignation, more likely.” Half buried in the bowels of his great machine, Viktor’s snort takes on a tinny tone, like a voice from a victrola’s horn, more mechanical than man. “Finally figured out that he couldn’t discourage a bunch of overly educated lemmings from electrocuting themselves just by denying them a way to do it easily.”

It’s hardly possible for him to see the precise angle of her eyebrows, buried as he is in the bowels of invention, but she stares with enough emphasis to spear him with her skepticism, even so. “Strong words from a man who threw himself into a rent in reality on a theory.”

“That”—the word snaps off, leaving the rest to chase at its heels— “was a well-researched hypothesis, with several strong supporting arguments.”

“It was a lucky guess.” The thunder crack of her heels dulls to soft clicks without warehouse's the lofty ceilings. Viktor shifts even without the warning, the starched shoulder of his shirt scraping just below her knee. She’ll have to introduce him to a better cleaner; it wouldn’t do for the man of the hour to itch on the podium. “One that should not have worked.”

One that wouldn’t have, for any lesser of a mind. By the sly glance he slants her, stern brow easing into something far too smug for her liking, that had been no small part of his calculations. “But it did.”

*

“But it did.” There’s a satisfaction to the way her mouth wraps around those words; a surety, as if her own planning and foresight were less an effort of will and more a force of nature— an inevitability that cannot be quantified, but only is. It adds a certain air of ambiguity, an inarguable mystique; every syllable exuding enough infallible confidence to end any conversation.

The exact sort of attitude that would serve her well in a council room of querulous colleagues— and annoys her daily, dealing with her own recalcitrant investment. By the councilwoman’s furrowed brow, the habit is as charming on her as it is on Viktor— which is to say, utterly obnoxious. “That it did. It seems Medarda’s uncanny luck in regards to the weather persists. However—”

A gust rattles the deck beneath her feet, metal joints complaining with what Heimdinger might term a very healthy squeal. A matching one runs through the crowd climbing it, wide brims and long skirts fluttering high enough to bare a scandalous ankle. The councilor throws one hand on her hat— a habit, Mel assumes, since there’s not a breeze on this earth that could budge that bulwark of pins— the flounces of her blouse ruffling like a hen’s feathers.

“Save for this wind!” There’s more humor than gripe in her huff, the hint of a smile clinging to the stern line of her mouth. Don’t let the old girl fool you, Hoskel heaved in her ear once, over the whiz and whir of his horses, she might make a stand on tradition now, but she was a wild one in her youth— rode velocipedes for goodness sake. “My goodness! I don’t suppose there would be a safer season to do this?”

Mel laughs, gripping the rail harder. There’s little else to do when one’s life is in the hands of engineers. “It is my understanding this is the price of standing head and shoulders over the rest of Piltover.”

Another gust sets the stairs to grumbling, matching the councilor’s mood as she sighs, “As there always is. The podium is just up here, I imagine? Well, one more flight can’t hurt, I suppose—”

There’s no warning to it when the wind hits, no rhyme or reason; just a steady whirl that rises to a wail, clanging the assembly against the roof. The strength of the scaffold mutes it to no more than a rattle, a small shake in the steel beneath their feet, but with one foot raised, the councilor is put off balance, one arm flying out to find the rail—

Only to be caught by a steady hand rounding the corner. Her husband— Tobias, Mel remembers— his bright eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do be careful, my dear.”

“Ah…” There is little about Councilor Kiramman that can be considered soft, but what there is eases, the faint lines around her eyes deepening to match his. “Thank you, darling. Though I hardly think I have any say in whether I keep my feet beneath me or not.”

“That may be so.” The councilor’s husband is a soft spoken man, as gentle as the hand that holds her elbow, but he hardens his voice enough to be heard. “But you can at least try.”

“It heartens me to hear that you believe the wind blows at my asking.” Her hand settles on the rail, and the head of house Kiramman is cast from cold steel once again, as immovable as the foundries that bear its name. “But there are things that even I cannot control. Much as I wish I might.”

His empty hand hesitates— hovering first at her back, then her side, before falling back to his own. There are few men who deal with sudden superfluousness with grace, and fewer still who would smile over it, but Tobias Kiramman does both, humming, “You hardly need to remind me. I’m raising our daughter too, aren’t I?”

The mere mention of Clan Kiramman’s youngest brings a sharpness to the councilwoman— not in the way whetstones hone steel, but in the way a horn’s peal does a hound, fixing all that lethal focus to a singular point. “Don’t start that with me. Where is she anyway? Dragging her feet, no doubt, when I already told her—”

“Miss Medarda” —Tobias catches himself with a laugh, following along in his wife’s wake— “ah, I mean Councilor, now. I have to thank you for the invitation— I don’t think I’ve been so excited to see a presentation in years.”

“Tobias.” There’s a warmth when Mel says his name, an echo of a fondness from a much younger girl. One he’d been kind to, those first few years, when there had been no benefit to befriending a foreign girl who had already disappointed one branch of her clan. “What a pleasant surprise! Cassandra hadn’t said you’d be coming.”

“I could hardly keep him away,” the councilwoman mutters absently, craning her neck to see further down the stairs. “This is the only part of being a patron he actually likes, after all— listening to all these engineers talk about their projects. As one would expect of Kiramman’s most promising apprenta.”

Mel allows her eyebrows to lift, coaxing her expression to curiosity. “Not really?”

“That was years ago, now.” He waves a hand, as if that little tidbit weren’t common knowledge, passed around parties to prove that Councilor Kiramman has been anything but perfectly polished. Oh, she pretends a scandal couldn’t stick to her if it slid in on her shoe, Salo sniffed once, turning his nose up at perfectly passable canapés to crunch on his pistachios. But she did what every other girl did back then— pick papa’s most prized horse and ride it all the way to the finish line. It just so happened that she picked a good one. “Long before your time, councilor. Now I just content myself with staring through the shop window, so to speak. You’ll have to forgive me for running a little behind schedule today, it’s been my job to keep an eye on—”

“There you are!” The councilwoman barely has her feet on solid ground— or steady platform, more accurately— before she bustles back to the stairs, blustering with enough force to give the wind pause. “Didn’t I tell you to stay with your father? What if something had happened to you?”

Tobias’s straight shoulders deflate around a sigh. “—My daughter.”

Her mother may be the very picture of steely, her short stature doing nothing to diminish the dignity of her determination, but Caitlyn Kiramman is the textbook definition of coltish; all long limbs on a body that hasn’t quite yet decided which way it’s going. Tall is the obvious answer; even at sixteen she’d stood eye-to-eye with her father, and while most girls slowed to a standstill before their governesses declared them finished, she’d spent her next few summers growing in fits and starts until even Salo had to crane his neck to condescend to her.

Mel has little more than a passing acquaintances with the councilwoman’s daughter— clansmen and colleagues she and Cassandra may be, but they hardly travel in the same circles outside of business— but it’s still comes as a shock to see her mount that last step, that sullen air that had so defined the girl’s adolescence clinging to the sunken corners of a woman’s mouth. She could have sworn that only last summer the girl was still running around in short pants and pigtails, sun-worn freckles speckling her nose, but now she’s as skirted and beruffled as her mother; Cassandra’s younger, more uncomfortable mirror.

That’s the terror of old age, my girl, Jago would say, his hand steadily scratching across a page. A clock’s hands may barely move to you, but use a child to mark the time and you’ll be one foot in the grave before breakfast.

“Nothing happened.” Mel’s mouth twitches. The girl might have grown, but that gloomy glare of hers hasn’t, taking in every strip of blue and gold with a sneer astringent enough to strip paint. “Nothing ever happens, and nothing ever will. You don’t have to fuss over me every moment, like I might break or something—”

“I am hardly fussing over you,” the councilwoman huffs, flounces thoroughly ruffled. “I am simply being prudent. A young lady such as yourself can hardly go about unchaperoned—”

Tobias tilts Mel a weary, if fond glance. “They’ve been like this all morning. Much as my wife tries to encourage an interest in Piltover’s innovation, I don’t think Caitlyn will ever enjoy these little symposiums. Not by any fault of your own, of course, Councilor! It’s just, er…”

“Boring?” she offers, all smiles. “I can hardly be offended. I would have felt much the same way, at her age.”

Give or take a generous couple of years. By the time her more fortunate cousins were finished, so to speak, Mel had proven she was more than simply a cog in Medarda’s well-oiled machine, hand-picked by Master Jago as his most promising protégé out a handful for former favorites. It hadn’t won her many friends; she was supposed to be an outsider, a far-flung cousin expected to make the best of an unfortunate exile by keeping her head down and doing what she was told, not by taking the coveted position of the old man’s aide. At twenty she’d been a ubiquitous presence at his side, a fine decoration positioned just over his shoulder, as at home in the council room as she might have been behind a counter.

But she’d been a young girl once too, dropped unceremoniously on the shores of a foreign land, expected to be entertained by their endless lectures and bloodless sport. In her mother’s shadow, she’d watched empires fall beneath the beat of a hundred drums, entire civilizations ceding to sand beneath her own horse’s hooves, kings and generals felled by their own hubris— or by a shrewder man’s betrayal. She’d chased her brother’s braids through the endless dunes of Sai Faraj, and learned to overtake him in the cascades, but here—

Here they’d shuffled her into stiff-backed seats and had stuttering engineers pontificate over progress until she’d been sure her ears would bleed from the boredom. They’d taken her to watch steel horses race along greased tracks, sparks and shrapnel a poor proxy for flesh and blood; and to stages where glittering divas sang arias about soldiers lost in the same sands she’d ridden, or merchants sunk on the seas she’d sailed, and…it charmed her.

Not at first, when her wounds were still raw and bleeding. Then, she would have liked nothing more than to have been one of her mother’s men, able to call any who agitated her into an arena to air her grievances with steel and strength, but— later. In the months after her temper had cooled from roiling magma to sleek obsidian, when she could begin to appreciate the smallness of their world— so important to these people of Piltover, and yet insignificant beyond their borders. A city of children playing at civility, a petty kingdom built on progress—

And a fine proving ground for the poorest Medarda. A place to show the sort of conquest she could be capable of, given time and resources. A theater in which she might finally, for once, outshine even her mother’s glory.

So long as these engineers of hers don’t demolish another city block trying to do it, at least.

“There should be seats toward the front.” Mel waves a hand toward the podium, absent, casual, as if she hadn’t cordoned off a whole section of seating just for the councilors and their guests. A good thing; not even a perilous climb up the academy’s roof could dim the public’s enthusiasm for progress, the entire platform practically packed shoulder-to-shoulder with curious onlookers, waving flags and bearing pins as if this were a second Progress Day. "I’ve been assured that any of them should afford a good view of the proceedings, but if you’d like my opinion”— she leans in, conspiratorial, watching the mischief light in Tobias’s eyes— “the occupants in the leftmost seats will have a much more dramatic view.”

Or so Talis had implied this morning, walking her from one end of the podium to the other, arm wrapped oh-so unsubtly around her shoulders as he murmured, and you see, right there— that’s where it’ll turn the corner—

“I’m not here for your stupid council!” Heeled boots were a tactical error on the councilwoman’s part; as fashionable as it might be amongst the young girls clinging to the coattails of their clans, hoping to rise with their prospects, it cedes her daughter the high ground. Those lofty heights only let her sneer gain momentum before she lets it loose on this crowd. “And I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for Jayce, so don’t tell me that I best sit where you like, since I—”

“I think I’ll have a dramatic view no matter where I sit.” Tobias sighs, shaking his head. “But thank you anyway, Councilor. I’ll be sure to take it into consideration.”

Already the press parts around them, granting the councilwoman and her daughter a wider berth than the stage itself, but Tobias intercedes with all the ease of an experienced negotiator, diffusing tensions before their conversation can claim too much collateral damage. The result may not be all-smiles when he’s done— an unlikely goal, when a girl is as gifted at glowering as Caitlyn Kiramman— but there’s certainly a cessation of hostilities, an uneasy stalemate that allows him to herd them toward the podium. There’s a pause when he comes to the end of the aisle, a hesitation before his hand sweeps out to the left, every angle of it composed to look indifferent, as if it hardly mattered to him where they sat.

The councilwoman takes one glance at the seats— demarcated with a tasteful velvet rope slung between golden poles, a placard reading Reserved in the finest penmanship Medarda’s apprenta can put to page swaying beneath— before circling back to her husband. Canvassing every contour of his expression first, she nods, bustling behind the barrier. His daughter, however, digs in her heels.

Headstrong, that’s what councilwoman always called her; the same thing one of her mother’s generals had called his newest mare, shortly before it threw him ass over teakettle into the dunes. Mel snorts, shaking her head. “Cassandra can try, but I doubt that girl will ever sit easy in a council seat.”

Elora’s already at her elbow, surveying the situation with an absent sort of interest. “She is a bit argumentative. But I was under the impression most children her age are. It hardly seems fair to write her off just because of some, hm, adolescent rebellion.”

“Not that. A bit of backbone makes for a better councilor than a puppet’s strings.” Though she could hardly complain about the ones who showed up to their seat so expertly strung. Hoskel might shake his head at every strong breeze, but it was easy enough for steadier hands to tug him in the right direction. “The problem is that she wears her heart on her sleeve. With one glance I can hear every thought that’s in that girl’s head, as clear as if she said it.”

Elora’s heavy eyebrows lift, softening her sterner angles. “Would it be so bad to have someone honest sitting in a councilor’s seat? Couldn’t it be the breath of fresh air that’s needed to start making real changes in Piltover?”

“A tempting idea in this jaded day and age,” Mel allows, winding her way through the press. Bodies shuffle to clear the way, gentlemen quick to doff their hats to a pretty woman promenading past. “But the air is only fresh so long as the window is allowed to sit open. And inevitably someone will find the breeze unpleasant.”

“You think she’d be removed from the Council?” Elora presses her notes to her chest, scandalized. “She’s a Kiramman.”

“Removed, perhaps not.” Tradition, after all, ran strong for a city built on progress. “She could make herself a light in the darkness, a paragon among the petty hearts in that room, but polishing a statue to gleaming only invites the touch that tarnishes it.”

Her gaze cuts across the crowd, settling on the velvet ropes that cordon off the Council, only to find a broad set of shoulders squeezed between Salo and Shoola. Bronze cogs gleam as Ferros throws back his head, laughing at his own clever quip.

“That’s the price of being so honest, after all,” she murmurs, resisting the urge to stiffen when his stare settles on her, smug. “Everyone knows exactly what you care most about. And what you might do to save it.”

*

“Councilor Medarda.” Ferros may not have a council seat— given up generations ago, she’d been told by her tutors, to allow Bolbok’s people a voice amongst Piltover’s more corporeal merchants and innovators— but its coffers certainly contain enough capital to allow its favorite son to be both extravagant in his spending and expansive in his socialization. So when Albus fails to stand, instead slouching back in his chair and affording her no more than a scant nod as a greeting, she can be assured that the slight is calculated down to the last cog, an offense as intentional as the rise and fall of the bronze-wrought workers on his epaulets. “Quite a turnout for a personal exhibition.”

“Albus.” She’d watch a snake eat a rat once, out in the dunes of Sai Faraj; its jaw splayed achingly wide to accommodate the furred girth of its dinner. It takes a similar effort for Mel to hold hers open wide enough to keep the name from hissing through her teeth. “I wouldn’t have thought you could spare the time for such a small—”

“’Spare the time?’” Hoskel squawks, tugging at the almost artfully outdated collar of his waistcoat. “The man’s practically funded this project down to the washer! You can’t expect him to go and miss the grand unveiling, can you?”

The curve of her smile stiffens like a cat’s spine beneath a carriage wheel. “Is that so?”

“Now don’t tell me you don’t know, Mel! Why, no one would care a single jot about all this hextech nonsense if old Albus hadn’t spent every waking moment talking that Talis boy up to anyone who would listen. Even got some of my own money riding on this horse— though nothing compared to you, Ferros! Could have conquered a nation with the amount of capital he poured into all this. And you know what the Noxians say” — the councilor wheezes out a laugh, nudging his elbow into Salo’s ribs to pass along a knowing wink— “to the victor goes the spoils.”

To Salo’s credit, he looks more likely to spit shells than share Hoskel’s sentiments. At least until one glance at Ferros sets him to smirking, eager to rub against that constructed set of shoulders. “And what promising spoils they seem to be, Lord Albus. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a crowd outside Progress Day.”

“I can hardly take all the credit.” False humility hardly suits Ferros, putting a slick sheen on every syllable that slips past the slanted edge of his sneer. “After all, it was Councilor Medarda who arranged this little demonstration for the public.”

“You don’t say.” Hoskel’s enthusiasm predictably wanes, his wide eyes squinting as they fall on her, as if he might find the fine print. “Well, I suppose that would be what you’re best at, Mel. That’s what I always say, isn’t it? Medarda knows how to put on a party!”

“That it does. But I must admit, it’s entirely to the councilor’s credit that I came upon these boys at all. If she hadn’t reached out to me before that Distinguished Innovators Symposium and told me about the promising pair of engineers she’d discovered hiding out in a Midtown warehouse, well…” One corner of Ferros’s ferrety little mustache quivers as he stares at her, sending a shudder shivering down her spine. “Things could have gone quite differently.”

“You know, I’ve always said the Councilor has a good eye for these sorts of things.” Salo's eyes flutter between them, torn between whom to focus his flattery. “Her taste is exquisite, I’m sure you know.”

It’s the sort of compliment that might shine more sincerely if it wasn’t accompanied by the crunch of pistachio. Still, she steps toward him, hand pressed prettily to where lace twines up her chest, smile already set into place—

Only for something to snap beneath her sole. Several somethings— shells, littering the podium around Salo like a strange halo. A strong gust scatters them across the platform, several seats in every direction, falling underfoot of clansman and commoner alike, and—

And her pretty veneer of civility cracks, smile as strained as her patience.

“You’re too kind,” she manages, too stilted for sincerity. It hardly matters— Salo is far too busy looking to Ferros to worry about how she might receive his flattery. “But truthfully, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the hard work of Mr Talis and—”

Ferros laughs; not his usual stiff-lipped hah, summoned up from the depths of his chest, but a languid, almost lazy chuckle, nearly lost to the wind. “Take a seat already, Mel.”

He may thrust out a meaty hand, the demand on her attention as absent as it is absolute, but Mel cannot care to follow it. Not when her own colleagues sit there— Hoskel, who had so eagerly accepted her gift to him only last week, thanking her for another fine puzzle even if he hadn’t quite managed to solve the last; Salo, who had practically begged on his knees for her to attend the theater in his box last season, if only so he might meet the Demacian tenor who kept ignoring his floral overtures; Shoola, who had only last week approached her about a number of ships her clan were anxious to usher through the Sun Gates before the summer squalls could start up on the Conqueror’s Sea— refusing to meet the question in her eyes. They stare past her as if she were a passing pamphlet that had unfortunately blown underfoot, too unimportant to take to the bin themselves.

And there is Ferros, grinning beneath his furred caterpillar of a mustache, teeth as bare as his ambitions, and she—

“If everyone would just— oh my!” Heimerdinger chuckles over the ring of the audio coils, a small hand reaching out to tinker with their halos before they could confound each other once again. “Ah! Yes, if everyone could just take their seats, then I think we could get this exhibition on the road— or, er, rooftop, as it were!”

His giggle grates— Ferros’s cunning little Council coup might astound and annoy, but there is truly nothing more wearying than a man who drinks from his own punch bowl. Still, Mel is grateful to have any excuse to search for a seat besides at Albus’s behest. The last thing she needs is to give any of her fine colleagues cause to believe that she lets this man tug her strings too.

“Reginald!” Ferros snaps his fingers, the aide beside him springing up like toast at the breakfast table. “Move. It wouldn’t do to keep Miss Medarda standing.”

She quite nearly declines; there are plenty of seats and better company over by the cluster of Kirammans, but Heimerdinger clears his throat— a little ahem-hem-hem over the murmur of the masses— and she finds herself folding into the chair. It earns her a dire glare from his aide, but she learned enough at her mother’s knee to know that wolves do not worry about the opinion of lambs.

“I must thank you for all coming out here today when” — the wind blows, setting all the coils to screeching— “when the elements are not quite as friendly as we may have hoped! But I promise this is a presentation that is not to be missed— a true leap in progress, the sort of innovation that may elevate Piltover’s place in the world, thrusting us back to the forefront of trade and invention just as the Sun Gates did so many years ago!”

A murmur wends its way through the crowd, growing in volume and momentum until a swift gust cuts it short; too many hands flying up to catch hats to keep whispering behind them.

“And if I might add a more personal note.” Heimerdinger rocks from toe to heel, so pleased for a man who once took such pains to kill this concept in the cradle. “I think this really is something special— a show of what engineers can do when they aren’t weighed down by preconceived notions and previous scholarship! Of what the mind can do when it’s free from the confines of the usual and allowed to—”

It’s a relief that the wind steals the words, setting the coils squealing before the Revered Professor can tame them again. She would have never survived that much self-congratulatory back patting from the man who has conveniently forgotten how much he railed against handy magic in the homestead.

“Well, I suppose that’s enough from me!” he chuckles, one furred paw pressing to his coat’s open collar. “Time to let these boys show you what they’ve got!”

Talis emerges from the wings with his hand already held aloft, not so much dissuading the claps and cheers as basking in them, acknowledging the adulation as well-earned. He’s every inch a clansman as he takes the stage, shoulders square beneath the stiff cut of his jacket, the white wool starched to the very limits of its weft. From collar to hem, every inch of him is constructed, metalwork at his shoulders turning him from an apprenta to an authority.

“Thank you!” His voice booms out from the coils, no breeze able to bully his words to silence. “I don’t think the Professor’s left much for me to say, besides that I am— no, we are thankful for this opportunity to present our work before such an attentive audience.”

A broad hand sweeps out, fingers absently unfurled— a second thought, no more than a pause for breath between one line of his speech and the next, and yet her gaze eagerly tracks the motion, searching for the smaller, more angular figure hidden in his shadow. One she finds, the seams of his shirt and waist crisp, trousers tailored down to the last allowance, both shoes and cane and brace polished to gleaming—

Ah. A squint and a generous tilt of her head, and finally all the angles resolve into a too-familiar shape: Viktor. Albeit a neater one. Cleaner. Tamer. His hair even looks like it’s been introduced to a brush, laying in neat wings against the curve of his skull, not flat but kempt, nonetheless.

Strange how it almost makes him less recognizable; more like the wallpaper that haunted Heimerdigner’s tiny heels rather than himself.

“It’s been a dream of mine since I was a boy to bring magic to the masses,” Talis confesses to the breathless crowd, already hanging on his every word. “To put the power of the arcane into hands that could use it. Not to move mountains or change the course of rivers— though I’m sure more than a few people wouldn’t mind that sort of thing, if it would get them home faster!— but to help with the everyday things. Spend less time on the things we must do, and spend more on the things that make us feel alive.”

He ducks his head, handsomely humble; the sort of pretty tableau that drew every eye, even from the back row. But Viktor’s trembling shoulders are what catch Mel’s attention, one corner of his mouth caught between a confounded frown— Talis’s words may be measured, read with the same cadence as from a card, but he’s clearly gone off-script— and the barest hint of a smirk.

“He’s charming, isn’t he?”

The hairs stir at the back of her neck, rustled by Ferros’s own breath. Mel knows better than to let herself shiver; fear only encourages a man like Ferros.

“Mr Talis?” She spares him only the briefest glance; one that measures the inches between them, and with an eloquent flutter of her lashes, informs him that she finds them wanting. “He’s pleasant to look at, if that’s what you mean. And certainly knows how to plead his case.”

It’s a lofty sort of glance that she means to toss over her shoulder, the kind that says, I could hardly care about the topic, but I’ll nobly suffer it for the sake of conversation, but Ferros waits for her. There's a too knowing glimmer in his eyes, mustache twitching like a cat’s paw before it descends. “Oh, it’s more than that, I think.”

It’s an effort to turn her head, to keep it trained on where Talis stands behind his podium, pontificating on the potential of progress. “Is it?”

“I hardly think you would waste your time on a pretty face, Mel.” His mouth wraps around her name like hands might a throat. “Jayce Talis may have been born to a minor clan, meant only to labor in mediocrity beneath a brighter banner, but he is a prodigious talent. A boon to anyone that claimed him as an apprenta.”

“Why do you think Councilor Kiramman is so eager to remind everyone just who sponsored him through the Academy?” She lets her mouth curl into a more conspiratorial curve. “It’s certainly not out of the goodness of her heart.”

“Hah. I would never do that woman the disservice of assuming she has one.” Ferros’s teeth flash, the barest hint of humor. “Though I can hardly blame her for wanting to stake some claim. Jayce is a promising young talent, and should this project of his succeed…well, I hardly need to tell you, do I?”

Every clan would be clamoring to catch a ray of his reflected glory, to put their stamp on the man who would change Piltover. “There’s two of them, you know. Mr Talis may have thought up Hextech, but Viktor—”

Ferros waves his hand, bored. “Jayce Talis has the mind of a great man. And better yet, the ambition of one, too.”

A breath catches in her chest, the thumb of his threat pressing tight between her collarbones. “What do you mean—?”

“And without further ado!” Talis steps back from the podium, arm sweeping out toward the open skies. “Let us show you the future of Piltover! Er, as long as my partner doesn’t have anything to add, that is.”

The Council may be seated close to the stage, but it’s still too far to make out the particulars of Viktor’s expression. His moods are often a matter of angle rather than aspect, confirmation and condemnation only separated by degrees, and yet—

A tilt of his head implies a raised brow, even if it’s not entirely in evidence. His shoulders lift— not the mountainous upheaval of Talis’s shrug, but a more subdued motion, one that does not say why so much as why not?

Viktor leans between audio coils, and with a mischievous hitch of his mouth, says, “Let’s crank it!”

There’s a confused silence in his wake, a crowd torn between titters and jitters and unable to summon up anything more decisive than a disquieted stare. Viktor hardly notices— no, he’s already put his back to them, more interested in the dark clouds slung low over the horizon than the mood of the masses.

A mood that shifts as a sail emerges from the depths of that silvered belly; moving not at the ponderous pace of the dirigibles squatting at the skyline, but with all the swiftness of a sparrow swooping between branches. The Revered Professor might have asked them to take their seats, but the crowd’s on its feet now, a murmur catching as the ship chews through the miles between marina and rooftop.

It’s a lean little thing, more sloop than galley, both basket and balloon curved to a point with agile, fin-like sails sprouting off its back. A marvel, one might say, or a miracle, or—

Or straight from that sketch in the lab. The one Talis had left strewn across his bench, a pipe dream patent she’d barely spared a glance for, save to see whose name was scrawled in the corner.

And yet here it is, cutting through the gusty breeze with little more than a cheeky sway. Not a dream at all, but a reality. One Talis hadn’t thought to appraise her of, despite all their preparations.

“Steers like a dream, doesn’t it?” Ferros murmurs into her ear, not surprised, no— smug. “A dirigible that could fly as swiftly as a ship sails! I nearly didn��t believe him when he said it could be done.”

It’s not until she tries to speak that Mel realizes her jaw is clenched. “Who could blame you?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet— you know how it is. Engineers never know how to turn a phrase. Too literal.” The sloop cuts closer, the golden frame gleaming in the afternoon sun. “But I’m quite partial to sky cruiser.”

There’s a quip at the tip of her tongue, a question poised to slip from her on an airy chuckle— how will you convince them to give up their terrible name in favor of yours?— but it disappears with a catch of her breath, the squat rune of Clan Ferros stamped right into the ship’s side.

“It’s a prototype of course,” Ferros informs her over the ringing in her ears. “There will need to be refinements before it will be fit to join Ferros’s fleet. But it certainly serves as a statement piece, doesn’t it?”

She’s saved the need to reply; Talis’s arm lifts, and shroud drops from a few rooftops away, revealing  a tower, shiny and chrome.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he calls out, barely needing the coils to catch his voice. “May I present to you: the Hexgate!”

Even from here, it hums, a mist of arcane gathering around a single glowing point, expanding into the ghostly portal the boys had spent hours inscribing into its machinery. That itself is enough to impress, the crowd pitched forward on their toes, straining to see the sky ship as it approaches, white sails blinding as it sails straight for the tower—

And in a brilliant beam of light, disappears.

“What happened to it?” Hoskel yells, hoarse enough to be heard. “Where’s it gone? Don’t tell me they’ve gone and—”

A shadow falls over them, sky visible to all four sides but obstructed from above, stifling as a shroud, and even though she knows the trick of it— even though Talis walked her through this glorious reveal— her breath catches too, the fear knotted in her breast as real as the day her mother first shoved her off a her ship into shark infested waters, telling her to survive.

And all at once, alarm turns to awe as a voice cries out, “The ship!”

There is hardly ever a quiet moment in Piltover, but as the cruiser sails above them, low enough that some of the bolder attendees reach out thinking they might touch, the very air buzzes, elation and exhilaration a palpable vibration on her skin. Mel can hardly think for all the noise, can hardly hear—

Kiramman’s rambunctious daughter rushes the stage, bounding up its side in one long-legged jump. She may be trussed up in long skirts and ruffles popular in a crowd twice her age, but not one frill can make her ladylike, not when she throws her endless arms around Talis’s shoulder, shrieking and carrying on like the giddy girl she isn’t. Her mother is hardly far behind, elbowing her way past men head and shoulders taller with the sort of confidence confined to sportsmen at the top of their game. There’s a smile straining at her sternest corners, a hound begging to be let off its leash— and when Talis turns to her, arms open and yet already filled to the brim with one Kiramman, she lets it off the lead, running rampant as what’s left of his arm slings around her shoulder. Pride radiates off her; not the cool satisfaction of a patron with a promising apprenta, but something warmer, something more, and—

And for a moment, Mel can’t bear to watch. Her eyes slip away, falling away to somewhere safer, somewhere beyond them— only to find Viktor, hovering just a few steps back. In the mad rush of the crowd mounting the stage, eager to shake hands and clap shoulders with the man of the hour, he’s been shuffled back to the rail, angled out over the rooftop like he might be able to count bolts and tally damages just by squinting.

“I’ll have to thank you, Councilor.” Ferros stares up at his ship with the same satisfaction as her mother surveying foreign shores. “I do think this will be a profitable investment.”

There’s a contraction of Viktor’s spine, something between a shiver and a spasm, and he turns, gaze swinging out over the crowd—

To meet hers. She’s too far to see the subtleties of his expression, and yet she’s sure there’s a softening around his eyes, the barest hint of a smile lurking around the stern set of his mouth. His hand raises, fingers curling and unfurling uncertainly before he sets it back down, settling for a scant nod before he shifts back to his appraisal of the horizon.

Mel lets the smallest hint of satisfaction curl her lips. “I couldn’t agree more.”

*

Medarda spares no expense when it comes to fêting their triumphs, and tonight is no exception. Noxian red shimmers in every glass— all legal, a gift from their cousins out of Rockrund— fountains of Damacian champagne cascading in every corner, a legacy to the largess of their line. A good thing, too; there’s not a clansman worth knowing that isn’t in attendance, councilors and merchants magnates and blood that can be traced back to Old Zaun mingling over canapés that boast flavors from all four corners of Runeterra. The ones that matter, at least.

What it doesn’t seem to have however, are the men of the hour.

“Congratulations are in order, it seems.” Councilor Kiramman doesn’t so much smile as survey as she approaches the pillar where Mel holds court, a glass of fine Vindese red dangling from her fingertips with a studied ease. “This is quite a tidy little coup for Medarda, all things considered.”

A generous assessment for a woman so desperate to deny her any toehold on Talis, said kindly enough it might lull a fool like Hoskel into believing it an olive branch. But Mel does not hold Medarda’s seat because her hands are the softest to shake or her smiles are the prettiest to behold— no, that is because when Kiramman stares at her with a focus that might be more at home aimed down a rifle’s barrel, she only lifts her chin and grins.

“You flatter me,” she says, one hand pressed to her chest, measuring out her throaty chuckle to the ounce. “I may have planned this intimate little gathering, but we wouldn’t be celebrating at all if it weren’t for Mr Talis and his partner. They are the ones who have done all the hard work to make this evening a success.”

“Quite,” Salo sneers, not even striving for a sliver of sincerity. “Though a patron is just as party to the profits as the patronized, wouldn’t you say? After all, it’s not as if they could have done much without the generous funding Lord Albus granted them. And you too, of course, Mel.”

Crystal strains beneath her grip. “Of course.”

“Where is that boy, anyway?” Hoskel blusters, hopping from foot to foot, as if the scant inches his boots gave him might make a difference. “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of Talis anywhere. This is his party, isn’t it? Celebrating the success of his hex door, or what have you.”

“Hexgate.” It’s too impatient, too terse— too much. Not the sort of tone a councilwoman takes with her own colleagues. But Mel can hardly summon up the care to smooth it away, not when her own eyes are trained to the walls, searching. “And it isn’t only Mr Talis’s party. His partner—”

“Never comes to these things anyway. And I hardly think tonight will be an exception.” A hand falls heavy on her shoulder, too warm, too familiar to fight the way her muscles tense beneath it. “Ah, my apologies, Councilor. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ferros’s squeeze is meant to look friendly— intimate, even— but Mel nearly bites her cheek to bleeding to stifle her flinch. His hand slips away after, her flesh prickling in its wake, but Mel would rather choke on her own wine than give that man the satisfaction of seeing her check for a mark.

“Why, Ferros!” Hoskel spreads his hands as if they’re old friends— school chums, even, despite the fact that the old goat could be his father. “I was wondering when we’d see you around here! You’ve had quite a coup too, you know! What with that, er…what do you call it…?”

“The sky cruiser.” Salo flutters eyelashes so coy they could be cribbed from courtesans. And knowing the crowd he runs with, most likely so. Pity it's a wasted effort on a man like Ferros. “Quite a sharp little thing, wasn’t it? Why, I bet everyone will have one by this time next year.”

“Something like it, perhaps.” His mustache curls, doing nothing to soften the sneer beneath. “But not that ship.”

“Of course not.” A blotchy blush stains those sallow cheeks, taking Salo from cadaverous to consumptive. “I didn’t meant to imply that, ah—”

“I see you are without a partner, Councilor.” Ferros waves over one of the passing attendants— a Vastayan girl, her pointed ears flicking as she lowers the tray of canapés and receives his wine glass instead. “And after you spared no expense on these fine musicians. I would be remiss if I did not oblige you with a dance.”

“Oh my, yes!” Hoskel bobbles with a too-knowing chuckle. “That would be quite fine, indeed. Would that my wife weren’t here, I’d be tempted to take a turn about the room myself.”

Mel tries to imagine it: those knobby knees bumping across the ballroom floor, his beady eyes leering down the décolletage of a fine young lady half his age— or more likely up, if his heeled boots barely bring even him with her own— negotiating her gown around the bulge of his belly. There may already be a glass in her hand, pale champagne fizzing against the cool crystal, but Mel reaches out for a passing tray and downs half a flute in one gulp to wash the taste from her mouth.

“Thank goodness she’s here to save us from such a farce.” As sick of Salo’s simpers and sneers as she is, Mel can’t bring herself to disagree. “Though I’m sure you, Lord Albus, will put on a much more pleasing show.”

“If I do, it will be thanks to my choice in partner.” A gracious compliment— or at least it would be, if it weren’t clear that Ferros meant to flatter his own discernment first, and her aesthetic contributions second. Still, he holds out a hand, mustache curling in clear invitation. “Even if her entire attention isn’t on her footwork.”

Mel blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve had your eyes on the wallpaper this entire time,” he huffs, too amused. “Looking for Talis, I assume.”

She stifles a snort. It’s hardly Talis’s attendance she’s worried about. He likes attention.

“And is there some reason you would?” The loftiest streak of Councilor Kiramman’s gunmetal gray barely brushes Ferros’s shoulder, and yet with arms folded forbiddingly beneath the ruffled bust of her bodice, cuts a more imposing figure than him still. “Jayce might be the man of the hour, but that hardly makes him the only person of interest in this room.”

“Because of how he looks, of course,” Hoskel scoffs, scrubbing spindly fingers over his smooth pate. “You might be too far over the hill to remember, Cassandra, but a strong chin like that with shoulders to match? I don’t think there’s a woman in here who isn’t looking for him.”

Kiramman could hardly count herself out from that number either; her own eyes had been scouring the walls, eager to snatch up her most promising former apprenta. What a coup it would be for her to tour the man of the hour around the gala as if he’d come clinging to her coattails. “I’ll remind you, Councilor Medarda is a valued part of Piltover’s ruling council. I think she has far more pressing concerns than who might next sign her dance card.”

“I see. So what you’re saying is that she’s looking for the other one.” Salo’s mouth hooks into a conspiratorial smirk, glancing Mel’s way as if they were sharing some sort of joke, a jest only the two of them could understand. “Why, councilor, I didn’t know that Undercity rats were the same species, let alone your type.”

Bold words from a person that resembled a stoat more than he did a man. And yet she still pries her jaw loose enough for a laugh to leap out, brushing the thought away with nothing more than a wave. “Oh no, no. I must say, I’m not into the freshly exploded look.”

"Of course not.” Salo chuckles, lazily raising his glass. “Leave that to the engineers!”

“Oh come now,” Hoskel wheezes, clamoring to join the joke, as always. “Even they must have some standards!”

Her stomach twists as she rests her hand over Ferros’s meaty palm, but her smile isn’t the least bit strained. “I believe you said something about a dance, Lord Albus?”

Those thick fingers band around her own, too smooth, too soft to have seen any more work than stamping a few papers. His mustache spreads wide, and it’s her only warning before it fans out over the back of her hand, the generous cuff of her sleeve saving her from finding out whether his mouth is as dry as it looks.

“Councilor,” he grunts out gruffly. “It would be my pleasure.”

*

It’s to the strains of violins that Ferros fits his palm over her back, fingers splayed from shoulder blades to the dip of her spine. Metal warms beneath the brand of his touch, and haah, how foolish of her to wear a gown with hardly any back to speak of when she had hired the band herself, asking them to play the sort of songs these staid clansmen might dance to.

“You look ravishing tonight, Mel.” Ferros may be all sloped shoulders under that constructed collar of his, the bottle-round lenses perched on his nose so awkwardly thick he still has to squint to see her, but his voice is a caress, a cat-like rumble of a far more interesting man. But the way he looks at her is clinical— no, professional, like a collector perusing a private collection. A compliment detached from its meaning. “I don’t think I have ever seen you in blue.”

“A striking shade, isn’t it?” Piltover favors a more subdued shade, that kind that looks proud on banners and clean on rooftops—and dowdy on dresses. But Mel was an old hand at compromise, bringing the shade deeper, brighter; the silk so smooth it begs to be touched. “I’m afraid I couldn’t resist.”

“It suits you.” Another man might leer down her décolletage, might hold her with more intent, but Ferros— Ferros stares her straight in the eye as he says, “Just as this city does.”

A high compliment from the man who thinks of it as his. And a calculated one; his voice might warm it, turning it into something approaching suggestion, but even through those thumb-thick lenses of his, she can see the flat, reptilian chill behind his eyes. “You flatter me.”

“Hardly. Salo is right— your taste is impeccable. Both in gowns” — now his eyes drop, tracing over the band of her high collar before dropping down to where gold-wrought bands rest over the swell of her hips, holding a golden sun and a glimmering tail of paler silk in place— “and investments.”

Ferros is far from an accomplished dancer; for all of Salo’s simpering, he doesn’t so much lead as drag her across the floor, taking his turns too quickly and steps too heavy. Not enough to be stomping through the waltz, but it lacks patience— and subtlety. A heavy-handedness that implies he is a man who is more used to bullying his way through a challenge than solving it.

“You’ve done me quite the favor, bringing Talis to my attention.” A chuckle rumbles against her chest, his mouth curved into a too-satisfied smirk. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts— he’s a distractible boy, as I’m sure you know— but that sky cruiser…”

“It’s a fine piece of machinery.” Her smile sits coy enough to tweak even Ferros’s imperturbable poise. Just a flinch; the barest glare before he’s back to his usual smirk, but enough to fuel her through the next set of turns. “I’d seen the schematics for it in the lab, but it never occurred to me that Hextech could have come far enough to power a vessel like that, let alone with the maneuverability it showed today.”

“Oh, it took no small amount of funds to see that Mr Talis brought that little dream to life in a timely fashion, but it was worth every washer.” His chin tilts, letting that smug sneer of his gain momentum before it hits. “I’m sure a Medarda understands better than anyone how important it is to be first.”

Mel stifles the flex of her hand against his shoulder, covering it with a smile. Master Jago had spent twenty years of his life charting the sprawling maps that had brought Medarda back from the brink of extinction; discovering routes that would take days— weeks, even— off their travel time, just to make sure they arrived with their goods first, before any of the other clans could dilute the markets. To make sure they controlled supply, even if they could not fully anticipate demand. They’d sunk their considerable capital into airships too; more ponderously slow than galleys, but less liable to founder on shallow shoals or be lost in autumn squalls. And now—

And now with one sky ship— no, sky cruiser— Ferros could have made all of those plans moot.

“Success puts me in a generous mood,” he hums, pulling her tighter to him on a turn. “A forgiving one.”

“Is that so?” Mel leans in even as her heart stutters in her chest, hope too heady a drink to ignore. “How forgiving?”

“Enough that even Medarda’s slate could be wiped clean.” A corner of his mouth curls. “Provided the Hexgate proves as profitable as it seems.”

Meaning: so long as it was finished; not simply a prototype sitting in a warehouse, gathering dust as the Council squabbles over where to put the parts.

It would be a trivial thing to get the permits passed; just a few honeyed words in Hoskel’s ear would secure his votes, and an introduction to a promising young entertainer for Salo. Kiramman would be harder, but Jayce’s position as the clan’s former apprenta would make the councilwoman more amenable to reasonable resolutions. And where Kiramman voted, Shoola would follow, leaving only the Revered Professor and Bolbok— traditionalists, the both of them, but with Heimerdinger’s interest already firmly entrenched in Hextech’s corner, and a majority vote practically guaranteed—

Bolbok’s old bolts would fold too. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

Ferros’s fingers grip her hand hard enough to blanch the skin beneath. “See to it that I’m not.”

“Hey there, sorry to interrupt.” An arm cuts between them, white jacket as crisp and pristine as it’d been up on the podium. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Jayce.” Ferros doesn’t blink— snakes like him never do— but he does step back, meeting Talis’s charming smile with a more sober one of his own. “Of course not. It seems our set just ended. The Councilor is all yours.”

“Great.” He plucks her hand right out of Ferros’s grip, dropping it just short of his elbow. “C’mon, Councilor. I’m not used to all these fancy dances, so it’ll be up to you to show me how to cut a rug.”

She catches the sweat prickling at his brow and lets her mouth soften as she takes his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

*

“Sorry about that.” Talis scrubs a palm over the back of his neck, short hairs rasping against his calluses. “You just looked like you could use a rescue.”

That’s the sort of astute observation that she likes to encourage in her protégés— and one she might appreciate more if he wasn’t steering her so pointedly away from the ballroom floor. “I thought you asked for a dance.”

“I did. I do. I mean— I want to. Definitely.” Talis drops his gaze to where her gown cuts away from her shoulders, baring every last inch of skin from her nape to the top ridge of her tail bone, and swallows hard. “I just thought you might want a drink first.”

“A drink?” She’d been nursing one before Ferros had gotten to her— champagne, fizzing healthily against the crystal flute, an enjoyable way to take the edge off what would undoubtedly be a long evening. But it’s long gone now, set down and swept aside with all the rest of the forgotten dinnerware her guests have strewn about the room. “I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Good.” Relief slumps his shoulder, that chiseled jaw of his relaxing into a guilty wag. “I sort of told Viktor I’d be right back.”

“Viktor?” It’s silly the way she straightens, as if there’s any hope to see over this crowd. Mel has never been small by any means, taller than most women she meets by a rather startling amount of fingers save the councilwoman’s daughter— and her own mother, provided her memory hasn’t made a mountain out of an only moderately-sized molehill— but the press is too close, milling bodies keeping her from gaining a clear line of sight—

Until the crowd parts, serendipitous. There Viktor is, perched on a stool, illuminated like a hero in the second act— or at least something like him. He’s half-turned to her, face in profile; barely recognizable in a costume that fits, let alone gives a begrudging nod to something like the current fashion. It’s nothing short of a miracle to see him in that straight-shouldered coat, its lapels replaced by the more exaggerated ones of his waist, every inch of it tailored to make his sharp edges into sleek angles.

“I told you I’d bring him here, didn’t I?” She does have a vague recollection of extracting that promise from him, though she hadn’t put much credit in his ability to make it happen. Those shoulders of his really could move mountains, it seemed— or at least Viktor. “Ah, just give me a minute. Let me tell him we’re back.”

Warn him, more likely, but there will be no complaint from her— not when Talis’s shoulders make such a pretty picture cutting through the crowd like a lathe through steel, slim waist all the more obvious by the exaggerated breadth. There’s a bone-deep, animal sort of pleasure to observing his chiseled jaw in profile, bearing the sort of strong angles that beg to be immortalized in charcoal— or at least they would be, if these Piltoverians had any taste. And yet…

Yet her eyes keep drifting back to the trim cut of Viktor’s trousers, no brace to mar the line of them; or to the casual hand he hooks over the head of his cane, fingers drumming absently on the polished wood. His hair has escaped from the pomade he’d used to tame it, not running wild the way it did in the lab, but just starting to curl, volume lost neither to captivity nor chaos. He’s the same man at a glance, but tracing these new angles, strange paths that becoming familiar again, Mel has to admit— he’s handsome.

Or at least he is until she draws close enough to hear him grunt, “Don’t these people know about chairs?”

He shifts, leaning hard on his cane, as if a good stretch might make his spine sit straight where all of modern medicine could not. “This stool will have me picking vertebra out of my ass for the next week.”

“That’s why most of us are standing,” Talis laughs, before his expression falls to a more familiar concern. “But don’t feel pressured to get up. Sit as long as you like. Just because the councilor is on her way doesn’t mean—”

“Good, I wasn’t planning on it.” He tilts his head, the column of his neck lengthening as he tries to get comfortable, throat flexing as he swallows. “Do you think these people piss too, or will necessity once again be the mother of invention when I—?”

“Councilor!” Talis calls out, too loud. “Glad to see you caught up! Viktor and I were just, er…”

“Complaining.” Viktor turns wearily toward her, dark circles even more pronounced in this light. “Good evening, Councilor. I trust you’re having a good time. It’s your party, after all.”

“It’s your party,” she reminds him, slipping a hip between his knees and the next stool. Her silk tail tangles around his trousers, winning free with help from his clever hands— and the barest twitch of his lips. “I’m just footing the bill. Though it seems I should apologize for the lack of adequate seating.”

He waves her off with a snort, silk slipping between his fingers as she settles an arm next to his, close enough to note that the blue of her sleeves complements the not-quite-burgundy of his coat. “It’s hardly the worst stool I’ve met. You should have seen the desks at the academy— closed off on one side, with those little desks over your lap. Now that was impossible.”

“You survived four years of it.” Talis folds his arms over the endless white expanse of his coat. “It can’t have been that bad.”

A corner of Viktor’s mouth curls. “You underestimate the amount of inconvenience I can tolerate to get what I want.”

It’s tempting to tease, to let her smirk wrap itself around ‘I think I have a pretty good grasp on your limits,’ or, ‘younger men are known for being more flexible.’ But instead she smiles, settling for a much more diplomatic, “Then I should thank you for tolerating tonight long enough to attend. Even if I suspect Mr Talis dragged you the whole way.”

“Only a little.” There’s an amused glint in Talis’s eye as he adds, “I just told him that if he didn’t come tonight, you’d find somewhere else to bring him. And since you’re a well known supporter of the arts—”

“I’ll suffer any pain if it means I don’t have to subject myself to the opera.” He grimaces as he settles back onto the stool, spine creaking as much as the leather. “Or the races.”

“What’s this?” She favors him with a theatrical raise of her brows. “You wouldn’t want to spend personal time with your favorite patron?”

She expects a snort, a roll of his eyes, maybe even the barest hint of a chuckle— but instead, Viktor casts her a speculative look. One that starts at her golden heels and winds up, lingering at where blue velvet gives way to gold chain, and again at her shoulder, where metal flexes with all the ease of flesh, before ending at her eyes. “That part would at least be tolerable.”

Four syllables, and yet she’s touched. Absurdly so. Tolerable. “Talk about being damned by faint praise.”

“Don’t take it personally, Councilor.” Talis is all too quick to comfort, as unneeded as it is, his big hands waving between them. “I think you’re the fourth person to rank better than decent.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Viktor mutters into the glass in front of him, wrinkling his nose before he takes a sip. “You’ll give her the wrong idea.”

“What’s that?” she hums, lengthening her lean to a loom. “That you don’t find my presence absolutely objectionable?”

“No.” His eyes flicker up to meet hers, too wide, too gold in this light, before slipping away. “That I might actually like having you around.”

It’s hardly a confession— it’s barely more than a profession of human feeling— but yet Mel’s breath catches in her chest, unable to squeeze between the resounding beats of her heart. It’s simple, pedestrian even, and yet significant; made more so by the way he won’t hold her eyes as he says it. His throat works around a swallow as he finishes, the flex of the muscles more intimate than a caress.

“That reminds me,” Talis says, loud enough to jolt her heart back to its normal cadence. “I owe you that dance.”

He thrusts out his hand, hopes worn too bright on his sleeve, and—

And Mel glances back at Viktor, only to find him absorbed in the grain of the bar. She turns back to Talis with her smile firmly in place. “And it would be my pleasure to take it.”

*

For all his bumbling charm, Talis isn’t a half-bad dancer. There’s a small hesitation at first, a pink tint high on his cheeks as his palm presses over the cool metal of her spine, a little too high to make for a good lead. But he eases into it, measure by measure, until that polite grimace unfurls into a more confident smirk. Hardly the best lead that has swept her across the floor, but a passable one; enjoyable, even.

That is, until he leans in, smile just a shade too close, warmth just a hint too personal. “I wanted to thank you, you know.”

“Really?” It’s important, in times like this, to keep a cool tone, to create distance even when her plans require her to remain inviting. “I suppose I should inquire as to why.”

There’s any number of reasons— for funding their first fumbling attempts at making Hextech into a viable tool, even when it often meant footing the glazier’s bill; for introducing them to a host of patrons eager to be at the forefront of the next popular venture; for not only giving them an opportunity to reach new levels of achievement, but a venue in which to showcase them; for not turning them over to the enforcers that first night, when it certainly would have curried her favor with her colleagues— so it’s a surprise he settles on, “Not many people would care if Viktor came to one of these fancy shindigs. I’m glad that you do.”

She blinks. “Of course I do. He’s one of the two inventors of Hextech, isn’t he? He has as much right to be fêted for his contributions as you do.”

“Well, yes.” His hand flexes around hers as he leans back— less an affectionate squeeze of her fingers, she assumes, and more an absent wish to rub it over his neck. “But you know how it is in this crowd. Most people have this idea that I’m the one who’s done all the work, and he’s just my…”

Assistant. She’d heard it often enough in Kiramman’s little salons. “You haven’t exactly done much to dissuade it, either.”

“H-hey, well”— it’s not just his cheeks that flush this time, pink deepening to a more furious crimson— “you know how it is. Most of these people only hear what they want to hear.”

And Talis is all too practiced at providing it. “What I would like to hear is when I’ll be getting my own sky ship. Since it seems that you are in the business of handing them out.”

“Ah, t-that. You see…” It’d be funny to watch Talis fumble, if it wasn’t so frustrating.  “We were going to tell you.”

Not even Hoskel has enough forehead to convey the depths of her doubts. “Were you, now?”

“Yes! Of course. It’s just…” His charming hero’s smile pulls thin, buckling under the weight of his grimace. “Well, Lord Ferros, he…ah…”

Was willing to pay so much more if he didn’t. Perhaps he’d even presented the idea in a more attractive wrapping, calling it as a surprise, a bit of window dressing that would make Medarda’s spectacle of science even more spectacular. But Talis wasn’t some common engineer, attending the academy to get a leg up in the world— no, he was a clansman himself, born into a world where a single investment could be the difference between a seat at the council table or in a moldering manor, watching the debt collectors squabble down to the washer over the hope chest his mother had married with. He’d known what an advantage he’d be giving Ferros.

“Don’t worry, Mr Talis.” She squeezes his shoulder soothingly. “There’s no hard feelings. Business is business, after all.”

The man practically sags in relief-- but not enough to ruin any of those heroic lines of his. “Really?”

“Really.” Mel lifts her chin, meeting that straightforward stare. “I had worried about you, you know. When we first started this project.”

“Me?” His mouth spreads around a chuckle, settling into a smile that shows every perfect tooth. “No, I didn’t. Why is that?”

“You were too earnest. Wide-eyed, even. Like a clansman’s daughter at her debut.” That charms a laugh out of him too; absurdity always amuses young men, especially the ambitious ones. “You might be born to Clan Talis, but it’s been a long time since they competed for the contracts the way the greater clans do. Progress is a cutthroat business, and I wasn’t sure you would be cut out for it.”

He snorts. “I guess I should take that as a compliment.”

“You’re certainly welcome to. But I was also wrong.” The strings crescendo as she leans back, smile as sharp as a knife’s edge. “It seems you know how to put your own aims first, just like the rest of us.”

It’s a happy accident that the music ends just as she does, the strings still echoing in her ears as she extracts herself from Talis’s embrace. “I must thank you for the dance, Mr Talis. It was quite…satisfying, all things considered.”

An amateur would turn on her heel, letting every click across the floor convey the depths of her disappointment, but Mel— Mel turns her retreat into a performance, stepping out before she puts her back to him; like a diva making her exit from the stage. Every inch of it is elegant, every angle of it refined, the insult measured down to the dram, and yet—

Yet, Talis finds a way to ruin it.

“Wait!” Even without this lull between one piece and the next, his voice would turn every head, pitched for a street corner rather than a soiree. It’s just her luck that it quells every conversation in this crowd as well, just in time for him to shout, “Mel!”

Her name practically reverberates through the room, rattling teeth as well as high society’s sense of propriety. Talis clears his throat. “I mean, Councilor Medarda. I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to…”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr Talis.” Mel lifts her chin, favoring Talis with a smile so cold he flinches. “I’m afraid tonight’s festivities keep me too busy to afford you another dance. We’ll have to talk more later. Perhaps when you’ve had more time to think about what you wish to say.”

*

History hadn’t much interested her, as a young child.

Not the kind her tutor taught, at least; the other children might have crowded close to his feet, eager to hear of the storied heroes of old, conquering sea and sand and jagged mountain peaks for the glory of Noxus, but such things could not compete with the joy of chasing Kino through the dunes, or the satisfaction of chasing her mother’s heels as her generals reported on battlefields where the blood had not yet dried.

That had all changed once she’d arrived in Piltover, the sting of her exile sharpening itself into new purpose with each new line of precedent she learned, the clan code of conduct burning itself into the  darkness behind her eyelids, flaring to life each time she closed her eyes.

But one of his lessons comes to her now— his most interesting, at least in the opinion of her younger self. The valiant general standing before the walls of a stronghold— which, she cannot bother to remember, not when so many of his stories started this way— the mage atop them rising from the ramparts, lightning crackling over their skin, a cloak made out of storms ready to strike—

And that is how Mel feels now, static crackling beneath her skin, ready to spill from her mouth, her fingertips, her very flesh if anyone so much as looks at her. Bad enough that Ferros thinks he has her backed into a corner, but now her own engineer is helping him for no more than pocket money and a pat on the head. The one she had discovered, cultivated, practically fed from her own hand—

“Ah, Councilor Medarda!” There’s no assistant dogging the Revered Professor’s footsteps now, not even his loyal poro, only his tiny boot heels clacking across the marble. “Unbelievable that we haven’t yet crossed paths tonight, on today of all days!”

One of his little chuckles bounds out of him, as eager as a puppy that’s slipped its leash. Mel stares down at him, weariness washing over her like a wave. It had been tricky enough to find a corner of this manor that wasn’t taken up by bent heads and polite smiles, and just when she’d found it, Heimerdinger runs into her.

One problem after another. Just her luck tonight, it seems. “Professor. I didn’t know that you—”

“I expect you’re looking for Viktor!” He giggles again, wagging a fuzzy finger. “A hard one to find at a party like this. He’s not the most social of my students, that’s for sure.”

It would be polite to laugh. A small titter, a throaty ha, something— but what stumbles from her instead is, “I am.”

What's more surprising is that it’s true.

It makes a certain kind of sense, of course; she’d been fit to spit sparks, and she’d gone in search of a lightning pole. It’s only—

She hadn’t known she was doing it.

“Well, you’ve almost found him,” Heimerdinger chortles proudly, as if she were a student of his herself. “Just out on that balcony there. Getting some fresh air, he says!”

“Fresh air?” Mel squints through the glass, brow furrowed. “Isn’t that the balcony that looks out over the bridge?”

There’s no need to clarify which; as imposing a figure as its towers cut, lights glittering like stars at the edge of night, the Bridge of Progress is hardly a view party-goers appreciated. The Undercity might be an acceptable unpleasantness underpinning all of Piltover’s progressive trappings, but one hardly liked to think of how the other half lived while getting drunk off bubbly and caviar.

“Well, I hardly think that would bother him!” The Professor lets loose another one of his laughs, and waves her off. “Now, I’d love to stay and chat, Miss Medarda, but it seems I have an important meeting to make in the Little Professor’s Room.”

He scurries away before she can get a word in edgewise— a relief, now that her quarry is within reach. The door opens quietly under her hand, only the softest click of the handle turning to warn him of her approach.

Which it does; his head bobs up from where it hangs between his shoulders, neck twisted to catch a glance of the shadow that approaches—

And he straightens. Not fully; his cane is propped in the corner, just far enough to make a reach obvious, if not ungainly. But enough to mark the difference between a hunch and a lean, his arms straight where they rest on the balustrade.

“Councilor.” It’s unexpected how much she warms at the way his accent bites into the word, softening it in some places, and sharpening in others. “I didn’t expect to see you out here. Not so soon, at least. I’d imagine your dance card is quite full.”

“Hardly.” She’s conscious of the light behind her as she pushes off from the jamb, making her little more than a suggestive shape wrapped in shadow to his eyes. If she allows herself a more exaggerated swing of her hips as she sashays forward, if he drops his eyes to follow them— well, it’s just another bit of play acting. A role she’s accepted in this little game of theirs. “If you cared to look, I think you would find that most of the men in that room much prefer to admire me from afar, rather than risk being made a fool if they get too close.”

“Pity,” he says, without an ounce of contrition. “I’m afraid I’m not much for cutting a rug, otherwise I might be tempted to let you try.”

She arches a brow. “Dancing?”

“Making a fool out of me.”

There’s a silence after he says it, too long, too heavy. If only the night had not fallen so thick or so soon, she might be able to catch more than a glint of his eyes in the gaslight, a quick shimmer she’s sure lingers on her before it slips away. In the end, the moment’s only broken by the clearing of his throat. “Still, there’s plenty of young men out there. I’m surprised they aren’t all in a rush to play idiot for you. Jayce certainly was.”

“Mr Talis proved a pleasant diversion.” It’s a diplomatic answer, if not entirely true. “For most of the set, at least.”

“Most?” His eyebrows angle toward amusement. “What? Did he step on your toes? I thought they taught you people to dance right out of the cradle.”

It would be easy to let a smile curl her lips, to straighten her spine and trade quips about infants waltzing across playroom floors, or whether the toddlers felt that the polka had become passé. But it treads too close to the true topic at hand; to Talis and Ferros and the unfortunate hopes she had pinned to their partnership.

“Is that a new tie?” she asks instead, reaching out to slip her finger between the blade and tail. It’s not silk, like she expects, but smooth even so, the red stark against the warmer tones of her skin. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

Those brows of his drop, angling steeply over his stare— the one fixed on her hands, scowling deeper when she dares to run a thumb over the fabric. “I’ve had it.”

His hand sweeps hers away with an irritable flick, and she bites back a grin. “But you haven’t worn it.”

He hesitates, fingers pale where they pinch the fabric. “No, I haven’t.”

“They have a meaning, don’t they?” Jago had told her that once, leading her for the first time through the Academy grounds, having her catalogue every color and knot. “Something about philosophy. And the exams.”

“Something like,” he agrees irritably, adjusting the knot. It’s the same as it always is, a three part shape instead of one, tied with all the ease of habit. “It’s Jayce who started wearing red first. The only one I’d ever seen, I think. At least for a while.”

She’s careful when she says, “So it was his idea for you to wear it tonight?”

“He said it would send a message.” He shrugs, shoulders all angles even beneath his coat. “I don’t know. I thought it just looked better with the vest.”

“It does.” At his startled look, she smirks. “Though white would have stood out more.”

“And compete with you, Councilor?” He shakes his head, the smallest hint of a smile clinging to the corner of his mouth. “I know better than to get into fights I can’t win.”

She snorts. “If only more people took that philosophy to heart.”

“Is that what Jayce did tonight?” He leans back against the balustrade, one arm propped up on the stile. “Get into a fight? Not win?”

“No, nothing like that.” It’s her turn to hesitate now, hands curling with purpose around the lip of the rail. It’s granite, cold even in the heat of summer, and best of all, grounding. “I simply inquired about the sky ship you two had designed for Lord Albus. I hadn’t been aware that you were taking private commissions.”

“We aren’t.” There’s a vehemence in the way Viktor says it, like a foot being put firmly down. “The idea wasn’t new. We’d been tossing around the idea of making a better, faster sky ship since the beginning, when we—”

“Blew out every window in the Council Building?”

He favors her with a belligerent scowl. “When we were stuck floating in the rafters for the better part of an hour. To be able to manipulate gravity like that…who wouldn’t think of putting themselves in the air? Flying, you know.”

She lets a brow twitch toward her hairline. “Are you trying to tell me Lord Albus independently came up with the idea for his…sky cruiser?”

“No.” The word is more sneer than sound. “Not at all. Ferros found a sketch Jayce left laying around the lab, and suddenly he needed to get his money’s worth out of us. He likes doing that, you know. Showing up and asking what he paid for.”

Mel snorts. “Of that I am intimately aware.”

Viktor glances at her, a flicker of curiosity lighting in his eyes before he looks away, gaze fixed somewhere out over the bridge. “The ship was part of that. Earning our keep, so to speak. Though I did tell Jayce I didn’t think you’d appreciate being kept out of the loop.”

“It’s only business.” Even she isn’t sure whether she means to agree or argue. In the end, she simply lets it stand on its own.

“So what else did he do then?” Viktor’s mouth curls enough to expose the point of a single, sharp tooth. In the right light, it might even look charming. “To only rate being mostly pleasant.”

“Nothing. It’s not like we argued on the dance floor.” No matter how much she’d been tempted to. Scenes like that hardly paid dividends. “We parted on good terms.”

He raises one of those stern brows. “Is that so?”

“Good enough that he felt welcome to use my given name.”

“Ah.” Viktor grimaces. “Mostly pleasant.”

“I’m not offended,” she insists, lifting her chin. “Outside of my duties as a councilor, I quite prefer Mel. It’s only that Mr Talis was a bit presumptuous in using it for a professional relationship.”

“Was he?” His teeth flash in the dark— barest glint before he hides them back behind his lips. “If my memory serves, you call me by my given name. Exclusively, even.”

“Well, that’s because I…” Had been under the impression you didn’t have one. That’s what she’d assumed at least; Mel hadn’t much cause to socialize with the denizens of the Undercity, most of her business coming from the profits Medarda made from the Sun Gate and the ships they sailed through it or from the apprenta she’d invested in when their endeavors finally bore fruit, but those she had known had gone by a single name, never even hinting at a second. But she’d caught a Viktor E printed neatly underneath the Jayce T on the plans for the Hexgate, so it only stood to reason that he must have one, either by birth or by invention, and— “didn’t realize it would bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” It’s aggravating how easily he says it, not a hint of care in his shrug. “Just a point of interest. Since you make such a point of calling Jayce Mister Talis.”

She sniffs, folding her arms beneath her chest. “Well then, it seems I must tender you an apology, Mister Viktor. I hadn’t realized I was being so rude.”

Mel had never known the wealth of sounds a man could make with his mouth until she met Viktor; on a single day she might hear a heartfelt hgurk or a harried hnnnng, let alone a thoughtful mnnn or a guilty erk. Odd little things, alien really, but she'd grown used to them, cataloguing all his little grimaces and grunts until she knew which hmpf meant he'd take her advice under advisement— and which meant he'd be putting it in his mental bin the moment she swept out the door.

The sound he makes now, however, is wholly new. Not a grunt or a snort but a gasp, caught somewhere between chest and throat and expelled out his nose by the force of his head whipping to face her. “Just ‘Viktor’ is fine.”

“I would hate to deny you the respect you are due, Mister—”

“It’s”— his voice rises too high, threatening to crack before he clears it down to a lower register— “It’s my name, isn’t it? It’s fine.”

Her mouth curls. “If you’re sure.”

“Yes. Extremely.” He coughs, face hidden in his far shoulder when he says, “And don’t worry. I won’t start calling you ‘Mel’ either.”

It’s odd, the way he says her name. Not the sound— every letter is perfect, even if he hangs on to the ‘l’ a bit too long, rolling it around on his tongue the way Hoskel savors his illicit wines. It's confidence in which it comes from him, no hesitation, no pretense, mouth wrapped around her name like he had been born to say it.

Her heart flutters strangely, sitting too high in her throat. Not unpleasant, but distracting; that restless sensation spreading inexplicably lower, hardly settling in a single place until it slips past her stomach. There it quickens, unfurling to anticipation— like the first time she'd stood on the ledge above the swimming hole, gathering her courage to jump. Eager, as if she knew there would be water to catch her.

Impatient, as if she had been waiting for him to do it, all this time.

“Pity.” It’s practice that keeps her pitch playful, instead of throaty. “I think I could get used to it. I’d at least blend in your lab better.”

“You hardly need that,” he snorts. “You already walk around like you own the place.”

It’s meant to be a sting, she knows; a heavy hint that her presence is an imposition at best, and unwanted at worst. But there’s a warmth to his words that turns the complaint from frustrated to fond, more like the way Jago complained about his housekeeper, or how the councilwoman spoke of her daughter than how Salo sneered over his rivals. As if she were not some interloper in his life, but instead an inextricable part; an annoyance he would miss if it should ever absent itself from him.

“What you said earlier.” He blinks, those weighty brows drawing down into their most confused angles. “That you might have come to enjoy my presence…”

“That is not what I said,” he snaps, stiff. “I said that you might get the wrong idea, thinking that I might actually like your company.”

“The feeling is mutual, you know.” That stops his little protest in its tracks, mouth snapping shut so hard his teeth click in the silence. “I think I’ve come to like having you around as well.”

“Ah, well.” He clears his throat, gaze searching the empty air in front of him. “That’s still not what I said.”

“Of course.”

“But…” His head turns, just slightly, the corner of his gaze catching hers. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind if you came around the lab more often. So long as you stay out of my way.”

“I promise,” she says, struggling to smother a smile. “I’ll be the soul of discretion.”

[toiletpotato]

the caption for the picture in the article states "NZ Prime Minister Chris Luxon's office has confirmed taxpayers paid for his Māori language classes."

article transcription below "keep reading"! (emphasis mine)

written by Ben McKay, last updated at 2.15 am on 18 Dec 2023

--

As New Zealand grapples with a new style of government and approach to the Māori language, Prime Minister Chris Luxon has fallen foul of his advice to the public service.

Mr Luxon appears guilty of a double standard after scolding bureaucrats for taking cash bonuses for understanding the Māori language, te reo, while using taxpayer funds to learn it himself.

Mr Luxon recently confirmed his government would axe payments to te reo-speaking public servants and criticised those who took the bonuses.

"People are completely free to learn for themselves," he said.

"That's what happens out there in the real world, in corporate life, or any other community life across New Zealand.

"I've got a number of MPs, for example, that have made a big effort to learn te reo ... they've driven that learning themselves because they want to do it.

"In the real world outside of Wellington and outside the bubble of MPs, people who want to learn te reo or want to learn any other education actually pay for it themselves."

However, Mr Luxon did not follow his advice.

After repeated requests, the prime minister's office confirmed taxpayers paid for Mr Luxon's classes through a budget offered to the leader of the opposition, saying it was "highly relevant" to his role.

"I think it makes me a better prime minister," he said on Monday.

Opposition Leader Chris Hipkins said te reo was "a national treasure" and learning it should be incentivised.

"Christopher Luxon should be commended for learning Māori, but it's absolute hypocrisy for his government to then set about cancelling the taxpayer subsidies he used to do so, thus denying others that same opportunity," he said.

Waste watchdog the New Zealand Taxpayers' Union called on Mr Luxon to pay back the tuition costs.

Mr Luxon's right-leaning coalition of the National, ACT and NZ First parties has already strained relations with many in Māoridom, particularly over plans to wind back te reo use as championed by the Labour government.

Public servants have been told to communicate in English while public bodies - such as Waka Kotahi for the New Zealand Transport Agency - must revert to using their English-language name first.

Detractors say the government is bashing a minority and inflaming a culture war while the government argues changes have confused non-te reo speakers.

Te reo use is on the rise in NZ but remains a second language.

Competent speakers have grown from six to eight per cent from 2016 to 2021, including 23 per cent of Maori, up from 17 per cent.

Assimilationist governments banned the language in schools for much of the 20th century, causing trauma for many Māori.

Some government members are hostile to te reo use, with Deputy Prime Minister Winston Peters believing Aotearoa, the Māori term for NZ, is illegitimate.

In parliament last week, the 78-year-old declined to answer a question in te reo from Rawiri Waititi, the Māori Party co-leader who has mobilised thousands to protest the new government.

Mr Luxon insisted he supported the language and wanted others to learn too.

"It's a fantastic language," he said.

"I wish I had learned as a younger person ... I'm trying to learn.

"I've found it actually very hard."

Mr Luxon had a chequered record with the Indigenous language in his former role as Air New Zealand's chief executive.

Under his leadership, stewards began using te reo greetings such as "kia ora" for hello and "ma te wa" for see you soon.

In September 2019, the airline sought to trademark "kia ora" - the name of its in-flight magazine.

After consultation with Māori leaders, and a local and international backlash, Air New Zealand abandoned the bid a week later.

[locus-assignments-blogs]

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[jeevanp]

Yuvaka Sangha govt school renovation project

The Yuvaka Sangha govt school renovation project stands as a meaningful example of how community-based youth efforts can reimagine public education. In many rural and urban low-income areas across Karnataka, government schools have long struggled with dilapidated infrastructure, uninspiring classrooms, and a lack of functional resources. But with the determination of local youth and college students under the guidance of Yuvaka Sangha, these schools are now becoming places of creativity, hope, and dignity.

What began as a small effort has evolved into a consistent, structured model that focuses on dignity-driven renovation—not just fixing walls and furniture, but uplifting the spirit of learning.

Repairing Buildings, Reviving Learning

In government schools where paint peels from the walls and broken windows let in dust and noise, students find it hard to concentrate or feel valued. The Yuvaka Sangha govt school renovation project intervenes by making the physical learning space a priority again. From restoring blackboards and installing new fans, to painting educational murals and setting up libraries, each activity is rooted in care and community ownership.

Much of this work is made possible through volunteer opportunities offered to students and young professionals who want to contribute to meaningful causes. These volunteers often come from the very communities they serve, creating a deep bond of understanding and pride.

What makes the project impactful is not just what it does, but how it’s done—collaboratively, involving teachers, students, parents, and local leaders at every step.

Youth as Agents of Educational Change

The project operates on the firm belief that young people are powerful change-makers. Volunteers are not just repairing school property—they’re rebuilding faith in education. Trained through leadership programs, these youth take on responsibilities such as fundraising, school mapping, managing renovation work, and organizing cultural re-inauguration events after each transformation.

In one such case, a local team painted science-themed murals to support classroom learning and created a reading corner stocked by education NGOs working alongside the Yuvaka Sangha network. In another, volunteers conducted a series of free educational workshops for students after school renovation, helping them get back into a joyful learning rhythm.

The renovation also encourages long-term student engagement through student-led projects where children are involved in decorating their own classrooms, planting greenery in school compounds, or maintaining art walls. These actions help instill ownership and make students active participants in their own growth.

Inspiring a Model for Broader Replication

The Yuvaka Sangha govt school renovation project doesn’t just serve one location—it inspires a framework that others can adopt. Its scalable, volunteer-based approach is gaining interest among civic groups, educational planners, and community-minded colleges.

As schools transform, so do communities. Parents become more invested, attendance improves, and students report greater confidence in expressing themselves. And that is the true measure of success—not just better buildings, but better futures.

In our next article, we will explore why school development programs in Jayanagar are setting an example for localized, volunteer-driven education reform across Karnataka.

Visit for more info: https://yuvakasangha.org/

[holisticeducation]

How Giving Back to Society Leads to a Fulfilling Life

At Parmartham, we believe that happiness and fulfilment are the byproducts of giving something back to society. While the world today focuses on individual success, community growth tends to take the backseat. However, by investing in others' well-being, we create a ripple effect that reaches the community at large. Holistic education is one of the most potent ways in which we give something back. By giving each child the opportunity to learn and grow, we provide them the chance to become the best version of themselves.

The Power of Giving Back

It's not charity; giving back makes life happy. By giving to others who are in need of our support, we construct the pillars of society. Through our Seva Sansthan work, we have seen the good that good deeds create.

Here's why philanthropy is important:

It Gives Us a Sense of Purpose – Volunteering makes us feel connected to something greater than ourselves and that we are needed.

Empowering Communities – Our Seva Sansthan initiatives empower families, leading towards a more robust and resilient society.

Promotes Personal Growth – Selfless work makes us tolerant, compassionate, and grateful and shapes us into better human beings.

Inspires Others – Kindness encourages others to give more and builds a culture of generosity.

Has Long-Term Social Impact – With holistic education, we are shaping responsible citizens who continue the cycle of giving and development.

Our Holistic Approach to Education

One of the most significant ways in which we give back is by ensuring access to holistic education. At Parmartham, we believe that education goes far beyond academics. It includes moral values, life skills, and emotional well-being. Our Seva Sansthan has taken the initiative towards providing a well-rounded education to underprivileged children.

By shaping young minds, we are investing in society's future. We focus on imparting them with compassion, integrity, and determination so that they become good citizens who positively contribute to society.

Role of Seva Sansthan in Social Upliftment

We have created positive changes in many lives through our Seva Sansthan. Our key focus areas are:

Providing Free Education – Providing quality education for the less fortunate at no cost.

Vocational Training for Women – Empowering women by providing them with skills to become economically independent and support their families.

Health and Hygiene Awareness – Organizing health camps and workshops for the sake of motivating healthier living.

Empowering the Youth – Preparing young minds for the improvement of the future.

Environmental Sustainability – Getting involved in tree plantations and green practices towards a greener tomorrow.

How You Can Help

It's not just about donating money—your skills, effort, and time are also valuable. These are the ways you can give:

Volunteer Your Time – Participate in our educational and community programs and make a lasting difference.

Share Your Expertise – Mentor or instruct someone who needs it, boosting their skills and confidence.

Make Your Contribution – Your contribution will help support holistic education and community development.

Spread Awareness – Support the causes that you believe in by sharing them.

Lead by example – Inspire others with what you do and create a chain reaction of positive change.

Conclusion

At Parmartham, we have seen for ourselves the enrichment that giving brings both the giver and the recipient. Through Seva Sansthan programs and integral education, we continue to change lives and build society into one that cares. Now is the time—join us in creating a better tomorrow one act of kindness at a time.

[anbuthalapathy]

Best NGOs in Chennai - Prajha Trust and its Social Activism

Chennai has many NGOs that serve social welfare causes, but Prajha Trust always makes its mark as a leading NGO in Chennai. Prajha Trust's efforts towards education, healthcare, women empowerment, environmental sustainability, and community development continuously strive to help deprived communities. It is because of the immense support that the city has received from these NGOs which makes it one of the most developed cities in the country.

Educating Underprivileged Children

Education is every person’s right. NGOs like Prajha Trust, which is known as one of the top educational NGOs in Chennai, do their best to ensure that every underprivileged child receives education. Sponsored tutoring classes, scholarship excel programmes, digital literacy classes, and career counselling workshops are a few of the programmes offered by the organisation. The students are provided with the skills and resources which help them to close the educational gap and change their future.

Ensuring Good and Affordable Health Care for Everybody

Healthcare has a direct impact on the growth of any society and how well it functions. Prajha Trust is one of the NGOs based in Chennai that addresses the healthcare needs of the population and provides free medical camps, health check-ups, and lectures on preventive healthcare. In addition, it has also provided maternal and child healthcare support for families who face difficulty meeting healthcare expenditure.

Social Programmes and Initiatives for Empowering Women

Along with healthcare, women empowerment is another area of focus and concern. Prajha Trust is among the few NGOs based in Chennai that helps women become independent through vocational training, self-defence classes, and financial education. To those who wish to start a sustainable livelihood, women are also offered skill development courses such as sewing, handicrafts, and entrepreneurship. Campaigns aimed at educating women about legal issues help them better understand the measures they need to take to protect themselves.

Prajha Trust and Greenery Preservation

With Prajha Trust, there is a constant effort towards maintaining environmental sustainability. Among the many NGOs in Chennai, Prajha Trust stands out as an example as they take charge of organising and sponsoring tree planting campaigns, waste disposal initiatives, and water preservation practices. Through their constant awareness programmes, they promote the notion of having a clean as well as green environment.

Disaster Relief and Rehabilitation

During a disaster or any emergency, Prajha Trust offers relief measures and rehabilitation services to attend to affected communities with emergency medical relief and aid. They are renowned for their long-term rehabilitation support programmes which assist families in safely rebuilding their lives after the disaster. As one of the distinguished NGOs in Chennai, they strive to provide food, clothing, medical aid, and other essential materials to those who need them the most.

Holistic Community Development

Prajha Trust emphasises sustainable community development through a combination of various strategies which include economic, legal, political, and socio-cultural. As one of the most prominent NGOs in Chennai, Prajha Trust has also developed and implemented old age pension schemes and empowerment programmes for the poor to support self-employment and poverty alleviation to create a self-sustaining community.

Conclusion

Alongside its strong commitment to education, healthcare, women empowerment, environmental care, and community development initiatives, Prajha Trust stands out as one of the Top  NGOs in Chennai , India. With these transformative initiatives, Prajha Trust aims to facilitate social equity. These profound changes have and will continue to impact many lives, making it easier for people to contribute towards genuine social change through support provided to Prajha Trust.

[nursingwriter]

Nursing Theories: Health Risk and Health Promotion in a Community Part 1 Self-care is the conducting of practices by the individuals themselves who suffer from a health condition. The practices they would conduct for their self-care would include monitoring of their condition, avoiding food items and related activities that could induce illness, making an effort to maintain their health levels adhere to the given prescribed medicines and treatment, managing any possibly occurring symptoms or side-effects, accomplishing personal rehabilitation and prevention of activities that might give way to long-term ailment or disability. Nurses play an integral role in helping the patient conduct these self-care practices since education about a health condition and how self-management at home could help improve their health positively affects the entire community. Making the patients independent in taking care of themselves so that they do not have to rely on physicians, doctors, or nurses all the time, especially at that time of the day when it is impossible to reach out for help, the shaping of their attitudes and bringing behavioral change towards a health condition is mandatory. Nurses are a great support for eliminating the barriers that hinder these patients in complying with the self-management strategies so that more peoples physical, psychological and special needs could be fulfilled for better patient outcomes (Jones, 2020). The part theory plays in community nursing could not be overemphasized as theory and community nursing have been strong for ages. Orems self-care deficit theory of nursing discusses the practices that individuals undertake to take care of themselves to improve their health conditions and maintain their health levels on a long-term basis (Chipu & Downing, 2020). The theory talks about self-efficacy, self-regulation, and self-monitoring with effective education about their illness. For example, suppose an individual is suffering from hypertension. In that case, he should be able to monitor his blood pressure with the adequately available monitoring devices, should be aware of the devices use, should know the importance of regular monitoring of his blood pressure daily or weekly, and should know the limitations of medication and treatment steps have not adhered. The patient should learn these tactics with the help of nurses, especially if the most prevalent health condition in a specified community is hypertension, such as African American older immigrants adults. To prevent such a condition from becoming a chronic illness, nurses help make the patient become self-reliant and string to be dependent upon their knowledge in self-care. According to Orems theory, the patient is responsible enough to take care of themselves. Being an adult, nurses make them capable enough to make their own decisions with supported community education and timely guidance (Khademian, Ara & Gholamzadeh, 2020). Supervision, mentoring, mobilization of the resources for making a patients health condition better, self-awareness, problem-solving ability, personal religious views, self-motivation, participation in self-adherence techniques, and becoming autonomous in self-care are some of the areas in which nurses help the patients for self-aid and management of the disease at a community level (Chipu & Downing, 2020). The nursing education and research must take serious note of the self-care and self-efficacy of the patients so that preaching the physical, psychological, and spiritual attitudes to the patients becomes convenient. Nurses play an enablement role in providing the motivation and ensuring the availability of the resources to the patient that would help them realize how self0care is important for bringing betterment in their health. The theory and clinical practice go hand in hand so that professionalism could rely on the evidence that has been corroborated by the previous experts in the same field, and their implementation does not pose any risks for the community. Part 2 The most common form of consuming tobacco is cigarette smoking which has caused lethal consequences for American society for the past several decades. More than 480,000 deaths in the United States are attributed to cigarette smoking, the premature deaths of US citizens have been more than those who have died in US wars, 90% of deaths are from lung cancer, and 80% of the expiries are due to Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease or COPD (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2020-a). This particular health risk has been identified for the community in the health assessment, and its impact is predicted to be on a state, national and global level if not controlled in time. It is not only about one community, but if the effects are not stopped from the basic level, then it would expand globally, already accounting for up to 8 million people dying from tobacco use each year by the year 2030 (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2020-b). Since it is a form of preventable death that can be stopped once someone quits smoking, negative impacts on everybodys organs could be averted. Huge economic costs could be saved to treat patients who have lung cancer, mouth cancers, heart diseases, diabetes, and COPD. As the economic cost is the total burden the country has to endure collectively with the direct (the costs that are directly incurred for the treatment of smoking-induced cancer patients) and indirect costs (the future costs of the job losses, leaves, and production loss), therefore, the control of the disease on a community level becomes extremely vital (Nguyen, Han & Oh, 2019). The resources a community health nurse can use to decrease this health risk include being active in the anti-smoking movements where the nurses have spoken for their patients in the stakeholders meetings of the tobacco giants (Nightingales, n.a.). The nurses could educate their patients that tobacco companies have been advertising smoking as cool and glamorous activity, and for that matter, have been investing billions of dollars in their advertising campaigns. However, the consequences are reversed when a plethora of patients are seen adversely affected by tobacco use. In Hong Kong, nurses were asked about their attitudes towards smoking cessation, and they revealed that there were 5 As in which the nurses engaged in helping the patients quit smoking (Mak, Loke & Wong, 2018). This framework of 5 As (ask, advise, assess, assist and arrange) is a powerful resource to support those who want to eliminate this curse. It is now deemed an inexpensive model by healthcare professionals so that nurses could evaluate at what stage the patients are currently and how willing they are to participate in the smoking cessation intervention. The broad range of patient behaviors in which cultural and spiritual barriers might reflect their hesitance and the persistent health conditions would have to be closely monitored by the community nurses. The smoking cessation services and the resources of the local authorities are known to the nurses so that the community people could be equipped with the required and relevant knowledge in the prevention of this health risk. Nurses are in constant contact with the local authorities to get involved in activities that would help ban tobacco advertising, increase the size of warnings on the tobacco packs, and instigate the local authorities for taking prompt action for cigarette smuggling (Nursing Times 2005). Moreover, the nurses can keep reminding the smokers not to rely on the lies that tobacco companies have told them previously that have caused them negative physical effects. Smoking cessation services provide help for people who want to quit smoking completely. The work staff of these services comprises fully trained nurses and pharmacists who are fully aware of the tobacco industry information and possess a familiarity with the harmful effects of tobacco use. They can do this by disseminating information through manuals and low-intensity and high-intensityinterventions (Rice et al., 2017). The majority of the effective interventions for smoking cessation involve pharmacotherapies, such as using drugs like nicotine replacement therapy (NRT) and bupropion (Rice et al., 2017; Nursing Times, 2005). References Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020-a, December 10). Smoking and tobacco use: Health effects of cigarette smoking. https://www.cdc.gov/tobacco/data_statistics/fact_sheets/health_effects/effects_cig_smoking/index.htm Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020-b, March 23). Fast facts: Fact sheets- smoking and tobacco use. https://www.cdc.gov/tobacco/data_statistics/fact_sheets/fast_facts/index.htm Chipu, M. & Downing, C. (2020). Professional nurses facilitation of self-care in intensive care units: A concept analysis. International Journal of Nursing Sciences, 7(4), 446-452. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijnss.2020.08.002 Jones, D. (2020). Exploring the attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors of community nurses towards patient self-care. Primary Health Care. https://doi.org/10.7748/phc.2020.e1640 Khademian, Z., Kazemi Ara, F., & Gholamzadeh, S. (2020). The Effect of Self Care Education Based on Orems Nursing Theory on Quality of Life and Self-Efficacy in Patients with Hypertension: A Quasi-Experimental Study.International Journal of Community Based Nursing and Midwifery,8(2), 140149. https://doi.org/10.30476/IJCBNM.2020.81690.0 Mak, Y. W., Loke, A. Y., & Wong, F. (2018). Nursing Intervention Practices for Smoking Cessation: A Large Survey in Hong Kong.International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health,15(5), 1046. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph15051046 Nguyen, T., Han, M., & Oh, J. K. (2019). The economic burden of cancers attributable to smoking in Korea, 2014.Tobacco Induced Diseases,17, 15. https://doi.org/10.18332/tid/102673 Nightingales. (n.a.). The nightingales nurses. http://www.nightingalesnurses.org/ Nursing Times. (2005, March 8). Nurses role in promoting and supporting smoking cessation. https://www.nursingtimes.net/archive/nurses-role-in-promoting-and-supporting-smoking-cessation-08-03-2005/ Rice, V. H., Heath, L., Livingstone-Banks, J., & Hartmann-Boyce, J. (2017). Nursing interventions for smoking cessation.The Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews,12(12), CD001188. https://doi.org/10.1002/14651858.CD001188.pub5 Read the full article

[sebastophanes]

Let’s talk godslavery

I was recently exiled from a server for a variety of very stupid, frustrating, and frankly offensive reasons, but one of those reasons was my identification as a hierodoulos/temple-slave (godslave). As a result of this I’ve decided — for the edification of future readers — to talk about what godslavery means in relation to my own practice.

Godslavery first passed into the pagan consciousness in the 2010s courtesy of Galina Krasskova, who coined the term godatheow to describe her relationship with Odin, and other denizens of the spirit-worker and Northern Tradition communities. In this form godslavery was also seen as intimately connected to ‘ordeal work’ and had more than a passing association with kink/BDSM. I first came across the concept in 2022 when searching for forms of oathed relationship with Deity which could be adapted to my Lords. Initially I wished to pursue something in the vein of monastic vows but the Emperors indicated that that wasn’t what they had in mind. When I broached the idea of using the godslave framework, however, they surprised me with their receptiveness.

So what does it mean? Many people dislike the terms ‘godslave’/‘godslavery’, finding it vulgar and possibly appropriating, but no better term exists in English to describe such a relationship. It is, simply, a form of slavery: I am the sworn property of my Lords. On Tumblr you’ll find many people who refer to themselves as priests of a particular deity, and instead of receiving formal training or education they undergo an ersatz ‘dedication’ process which culminates in taking oaths as a priest — the entire affair mediated through that person’s private relationship with their patron(s) rather than service to a community. The process through which I became a hierodoulos was similar: a 20-day dedicatory period of prayer, sacrifice, and study that ended with a formal votum to and contract with my Lords. The language of that contract was unambiguous:

To be consecrated as a sebastodoulos, as devotee and hierodoulos, is to embrace a life of heart-rending freedom through the surrender of freedom; rooted in passionate adoration it is the complete gift; it is the entire oblation of the self in an offering of love, freely given. The life of the hierodoulos is the expression of trust: I trust that the Divine Emperors will guide Their man ever toward Their glory; that They will keep me in health, peace, and strength to undertake my service for Them; that They will care for me as a father to a child while I am walking on Their path.

The oath of the sebastodoulos is the willing bondage of obedience: to seek the counsel of the Lords while upon my way and to always and in all wise submit to Their injunctions and Their holy will, as a slave submits to his master or a client to his patron, in perfect love and trust.

See? Very simple.

There is definitely a very real sense of interior freedom to dedicate oneself in such a way, and to place this much trust in my Lords — although certainly they are worth it from any perspective. Now this is in no way a complete abdication of self-responsibility; they’ve been very clear that I can’t depend on them to guide every little action. But the big stuff, the Major Decisions of life, that gets run up the ladder for their (binding) input. An example of this would be in January of 2023 when I asked them if I should be briefly committed to an inpatient facility — I didn’t want to go, they told me I must, and so I went and they supported me through it. Godslavery in action.

The subject of a forthcoming post will be how I’m trying to translate being a hierodoulos into not just “I sometimes ask them things and then have to do what they say in response” but rather a complete way of living. The jury is still out on how that will ultimately work (more on that later) but they seem to be pleased that I’m making the effort. In the meantime I hope this provides some additional clarity.

[suzannealipourian]

Volunteering for Public Health: Supporting Wellness in Your Area with Leaders like Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna

Volunteering in public health is an impactful way to contribute to the well-being of your community while also promoting better health outcomes for individuals across various populations. Public health focuses on improving health through prevention, education, and policy, making it an essential sector that relies on dedicated volunteers. Read more

Whether through health education campaigns, organizing vaccination drives, or assisting in mental health awareness programs, volunteers play a critical role in addressing health disparities and enhancing community wellness. By volunteering in public health initiatives, individuals can contribute to shaping healthier communities, foster connections with others, and gain a sense of fulfillment by helping those in need.

In this blog, we will explore the various ways individuals can volunteer for public health initiatives, the key areas in need of volunteer support, and how volunteering positively impacts not just the community, but also the volunteers themselves. Volunteering in public health offers opportunities for personal growth, broadens professional horizons, and fosters a sense of connection to society at large.

The Importance of Volunteering in Public Health

Public health addresses the complex and interconnected factors that influence the health of communities. From access to healthcare to safe housing and nutrition, these aspects are crucial to improving long-term health outcomes.

Volunteering within this sector supports a variety of efforts that aim to reduce health disparities, especially in underserved or marginalized communities. Leaders like Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna assist public health initiatives in many ways, such as promoting disease prevention, advocating for healthy lifestyles, and even providing basic health services in areas with limited resources.

Beyond providing direct assistance, volunteers help spread awareness about crucial health issues, such as chronic disease prevention, mental health, and substance abuse. By doing so, they help empower others to make informed decisions about their health and well-being. Public health volunteers can work with local organizations, government programs, or healthcare systems to make a real difference, whether it's through education, data collection, or supporting healthcare teams in the field. This collaborative effort significantly amplifies the impact of public health programs.

Types of Volunteering Opportunities in Public Health

Public health offers a wide range of volunteer opportunities, each serving different community needs as highlighted by volunteering enthusiasts such as Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna. One of the most common ways volunteers support public health is by participating in vaccination clinics and blood drives. These initiatives are essential in preventing infectious diseases, ensuring that communities remain healthy and protected from outbreaks. Volunteers may assist with registration, provide information, or help individuals navigate the process during these health events.

Another way to contribute is by supporting health education and awareness campaigns. Volunteers in these programs may distribute information about healthy habits, disease prevention, mental health, or access to services. They can work directly with individuals or groups to teach basic health knowledge and empower people to take control of their own health.

Community outreach programs also play a vital role in increasing access to healthcare for underserved populations. Leaders including Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna help bridge the gap between individuals and the resources they need, such as assisting with appointments, translating services, or helping people navigate insurance and public health systems.

Building Healthier Communities Through Advocacy

Advocacy is another key aspect of public health volunteering, and it involves using one’s voice to promote positive changes in policy, community practices, and overall health strategies. Volunteers can help raise awareness about the health needs of a community, advocating for better healthcare access, healthier food options, cleaner environments, or more equitable education. By working alongside healthcare professionals and local government officials, volunteers can influence policies that shape the health of entire communities.

Additionally, volunteering enthusiasts like Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna play a critical role in advocating for mental health awareness and the reduction of stigma surrounding mental illnesses. Mental health advocacy has become increasingly important, as many communities lack adequate resources for those suffering from mental health conditions.

Volunteers who support mental health initiatives can make a profound impact by organizing support groups, hosting awareness events, and promoting mental wellness strategies. These advocacy efforts contribute to long-lasting positive changes, improving the overall health and well-being of the community.

Skills and Experience Gained Through Volunteering

Volunteering for public health initiatives provides invaluable experiences and skills that can be applied in various professional fields. Volunteers may develop organizational skills, leadership capabilities, and an understanding of health-related issues that affect communities on a broad scale. For those pursuing careers in public health, healthcare, social work, or non-profit management, volunteering offers practical knowledge and hands-on experience.

Volunteers also gain a deeper understanding of the challenges many communities face, including barriers to healthcare, access to healthy food, and the prevalence of chronic diseases. These insights have helped leaders such as Suzanne Alipourian-Frascogna become more empathetic and well-rounded in their approach to supporting others.

Additionally, volunteering allows individuals to build connections with like-minded individuals, healthcare professionals, and organizations that can provide mentorship and career opportunities in public health. Whether it's supporting a health campaign or managing community resources, volunteers contribute to meaningful change while gaining life-enriching experiences.

The Benefits of Volunteering for Personal Well-being

In addition to the positive impact volunteering has on communities, it also offers numerous benefits to the volunteers themselves. Volunteering in public health can lead to increased mental well-being, as helping others and working toward a common goal fosters a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Many volunteers report feeling more connected to their communities and experiencing lower levels of stress and anxiety as a result of their involvement in public health initiatives.

Furthermore, public health volunteering promotes a sense of belonging and community engagement. Volunteers often find that their work enhances their social connections and helps build stronger, more resilient communities. The opportunity to engage with diverse groups, address health issues, and make a tangible difference also provides a sense of fulfillment and personal satisfaction. Volunteering is a powerful way to improve your mental and emotional well-being, while simultaneously creating a lasting, positive impact on others.

[captain-of-silvenar]

for the oc childhood asks, 2, 5, 9, and 15!

Thank you for the ask!

Let's go with the Telvanni Twins for this >:)

2. Where did your muse grow up? What was their home like? Did they like where they grew up?

Lorana and Brisala grew up in a typical Telvanni Tower establishment. Maybe not one as extravagant as a Telvanni Master, but still within the vein of fungal architecture in a closer community of Telvanni House members.

They would describe it as 'adequate' and 'structurally sound'.

This was not a house with love inside it.

The Twins were often given to tutors and taught all day, then the parents didn't really care what they did with their spare time. So long as it didn't bring shame to the Telvanni name, or they didn't kill themselves in a stupid manner, they were very hands-off.

Which gets flipped when the Twins are dragged and touted around as having been born as Twins from a lower named Telvanni member. Set pieces rather than individual people.

They did not like where they grew up.

5. Does your muse have any siblings? What was their relationship like growing up? Is it any different now?

Lorana and Brisala are the only ones born from their parents. As twin siblings growing up, they leaned on each other and supported each other where other adult supervision and parental care failed.

There was efforts to try and pit them against each other to encourage Telvanni aspirations and ambition, but having other avenues of support (their friend Adana and the Hlaaril family) they never quite turned on each other.

Brisala certainly feels lingering feelings of bitterness and jealousy toward Lorana as she is the 'second' child and thus would not be considered for taking over the family power. Lorana got the minimum amount of praise and encouragement from her parents as the firstborn, so she was just a touch better off.

After the big fallout and rise to the council, they have completely exiled their family from themselves. They as two people have taken on all of the Alithar name and power, and risen it themselves just as their parents wanted; through ambition and power and blood and murder.

The Twins cannot trust anyone else except themselves and their few, few, few friends. Nothing can get between the two of them, because either the siblings stick together or they both lose the last bastion of safety in a family member and they are alone in themselves.

9. What was your muse's education like? Did they go to school? Did they like it?

Telvanni education I imagine is somewhere along the lines of "hope and beg that a Master will take you in and teach you their secrets, or you steal it from others to elevate yourself". The Twins were in good association with Adana (a much higher family name Telvanni) and thus were allowed into much much higher classes than they otherwise would've had.

School is a loose term, Adana just wanted his two best friends with him and the Twins didn't want to be left behind. So the tutors let the Twins in and taught them next to him.

The education was good and through. They became accomplished mages and scholars because of it. It was probably the only time they were happy since they got to learn and do wacky experiments without parental supervision, lmao.

15. What's one childhood memory that has stuck with your muse over the years? What's it significance to your muse now?

Lorana remembers a sweet memory of sitting in the Hlaaril farm under a tree reading a book. And of Vanta Savini coming around and asking about what the book was. He took a genuine interest and patiently listen to Lorana explain and re-explain to make it digestible to someone not in the magical circles. Sweet puppy love, the beginning of something different than what she expected, but good.

It lives as just a memory to Lorana. Locked away in the depth of her mind to remind and torment her of what was lost and could never be regained again. At least not in that form. No matter, all that matters is that she is alive and she stay that way.

For Brisala, it's sitting around the tea table and gossiping and laughing with all her friends. Of happiness and companionship. Of finally finding a place in her life that fit her without question. Without expectations or threats. It was so, so sweet and comfortable. A beacon of life in her otherwise strange and hollow life.

It reminds Brisala that the only way to keep happiness is to protect it herself. It is a knife in her ribs digging and tearing to remember that it can always be taken away. Never. Let. It. Happen.

ask from the oc asks: childhood edition me

[futurecaregroup]

Why You Need Respite Care?

In today's fast-paced world, the demand for caregiving has dramatically increased. Whether it's for an aging parent, a child with special needs, or a spouse with chronic illness, being a caregiver is a role that requires significant emotional, physical, and mental effort. However, the well-being of the caregiver often goes overlooked. This is where care home in Hampshire steps in, offering an essential break that can make a world of difference. In this blog post, we will explore the reasons why respite care is not just a luxury but a necessity for caregivers.

1. Prevention of Caregiver Burnout

Caregiver burnout is a real and serious issue. The constant demands of caregiving can lead to physical exhaustion, emotional stress, and mental fatigue. Without adequate breaks, caregivers may find themselves overwhelmed, which can negatively impact their health and the quality of care they provide. Respite care offers a much-needed break, allowing caregivers to recharge, rest, and return to their duties with renewed energy and focus.

2. Improvement of Care Quality

When caregivers are well-rested and less stressed, the quality of care they provide improves significantly. Respite care ensures that caregivers can take time off without feeling guilty or worried about their loved ones. Professional respite caregivers are trained to provide high-quality care, ensuring that the needs of the care recipient are met. This means that both the caregiver and the care recipient benefit from respite care.

3. Personal Time and Self-Care

Caregivers often sacrifice their personal time and self-care routines to fulfill their responsibilities. Over time, this can lead to a loss of identity and personal fulfillment. Respite care provides caregivers with the opportunity to pursue hobbies, engage in social activities, or simply take time for themselves. This personal time is crucial for maintaining a healthy work-life balance and ensuring that caregivers do not lose sight of their own needs and desires.

4. Enhanced Family Relationships

Caregiving can put a strain on family relationships. The stress and demands of caregiving can lead to tension and conflicts within the family. Respite care allows family members to share the caregiving responsibilities, fostering better communication and cooperation. It also provides the primary caregiver with the chance to spend quality time with other family members, strengthening bonds and improving overall family dynamics.

5. Access to Professional Support and Resources

Respite care services often come with access to a range of professional support and resources. This can include counseling, support groups, and educational programs for caregivers. Engaging with these resources can provide caregivers with valuable insights, coping strategies, and emotional support. It also connects them with a community of individuals who understand their challenges, reducing feelings of isolation and enhancing their overall well-being.

6. Peace of Mind

Knowing that a loved one is in the hands of a competent and caring professional provides peace of mind. This alleviates the constant worry that many caregivers experience, allowing them to relax and focus on other aspects of their lives. This peace of mind is invaluable and contributes to the caregiver’s ability to maintain their own health and happiness.

7. Flexibility and Customisation

Respite care is highly flexible and can be tailored to meet the specific needs of the caregiver and the care recipient. Whether it’s a few hours a week, an entire day, or even longer-term care, respite services can be customised to fit various situations. This flexibility ensures that caregivers can find a solution that works best for them, making respite care a practical and accessible option.

8. Preparation for Emergencies

Having a respite care plan in place is crucial for emergencies. Life is unpredictable, and unexpected events can arise that require the caregiver's immediate attention. Knowing that there is a trusted respite care provider available can ease the stress associated with such emergencies, ensuring that the care recipient continues to receive proper care while the caregiver addresses the urgent situation.

Conclusion

Respite care is an essential component of the caregiving journey. It offers caregivers the chance to rest, recharge, and take care of their own needs, ensuring that they can provide the best possible care for their loved ones. By preventing burnout, improving care quality, and enhancing personal well-being, respite care serves as a vital support system for caregivers. Embracing respite care is not a sign of weakness or failure; it is a recognition of the importance of self-care and the commitment to providing sustained, high-quality care for those who need it most.

[meikaserlya]

Revealing Denny Ja: Evaluating Wave 4 feminism and its relevance in tackling sexual violence

Introduction In recent years, sexual violence has become one of the most discussed issues in Indonesia. Many victims are afraid to report acts of violence they experience because of fears of stigma and minimal punishment. However, currently a new phenomenon has emerged in the struggle to overcome sexual violence, namely Wave Feminism 4. Wave 4 feminism is a feminist movement that focuses on the liberation of women from various forms of oppression and violence they experience. This movement emphasizes the importance of fighting sexual violence and fighting for women's rights in various aspects of life. Denny JA, a famous figure in Indonesia, has evaluated this feminism movement and its relevance in overcoming sexual violence. This article will reveal Denny JA's view of Wave 4 feminism and its relevance in tackling sexual violence. The Importance of Tackling Sexual Violence Before understanding Denny JA's view of Wave 4 feminism, it is important to highlight the importance of tackling sexual violence. Sexual violence is an action that violates human rights and harms the physical and emotional integrity of the victim. This action can cause long -term trauma and even endanger the lives of victims. Therefore, it is very important for the community to unite and take action against sexual violence. Denny Ja Evaluation of Wave Feminism 4 In his view, Denny Ja considers Wave 4 feminism as a strong and relevant movement in overcoming sexual violence. This movement has a clear focus on women's liberation and rejection of gender discrimination. Denny Ja believes that sexual violence is the result of structural patriarchy in society. Therefore, the struggle to end sexual violence must involve broader structural changes. Wave 4 feminism also emphasizes the importance of listening to the victim's voice and giving space for them to speak. Denny Ja supports this effort and argues that giving victims of power to share their experiences can help strengthen movements and build public awareness about sexual violence. Relevance of feminism wave 4 in tackling sexual violence Denny Ja argues that feminism wave 4 has a great relevance in overcoming sexual violence. This movement encourages broader social change in terms of gender equality and the elimination of the culture of justification for violence against women. Denny Ja believes that by overcoming the root of problems such as gender and patriarchal injustice, people can reduce and even prevent sexual violence. In addition, Wave 4 feminism also highlighted the importance of education and awareness of sexual violence. Denny Ja argues that by educating the public about the importance of respecting women's rights and recognizing signs of sexual violence, they will be better able to protect themselves and others. Conclusion In dealing with complex problems such as sexual violence, it is important to understand and evaluate various approaches that can be used in overcoming this problem. Denny Ja has revealed his view of Wave 4 feminism and its relevance in overcoming sexual violence. This movement is considered strong and relevant because of its clear focus on women's liberation and broader structural changes. By respecting the voices of the victim and educating the public about the importance of respecting women's rights, this movement can strengthen the struggle against sexual violence. In overcoming this problem, it is important for the whole community to unite and take concrete actions. Only by doing this, can we build a just society and free from sexual violence.

Check more: Uncover Denny JA: Evaluate Wave 4 feminism and its relevance in tackling sexual violence

[csuitebitches]

On Getting Rid of Your Inferiority Complex

You can take advice from everyone and every book you read, but no one can protect you proactively, unless you choose to protect yourself. Only you can do that for yourself. Your parents, friends, partner can support you emotionally but you need to stop relying so much on external validation.

When you’re making a choice that you know is going to be detrimental to your health, whether its physical, mental or emotional - such as going back to your ex, not taking the next steps for your career/ education - you need to think more about your (near) future self and make sure that she’s also comfortable. You need to think long term.

As we grow up, we often encounter situations that we’ve been in before to some degree, there’s somewhat a pattern to them. It’s time to start recognising them early and leave when you see the red flags waving.

By breaking your own word that you’ve made to yourself you’re making the inferiority complex worse. Because you’re showing to your subconscious mind that you don’t matter at all. Others do.

It could be something “small” such as going out clubbing with your friends because you couldn’t say no - and having an important presentation due the next day. It could be something “big” such as breaking off a difficult relationship, and still going back to them.

When we suffer from an inferiority complex, we idolise people around us and think they’re better than us in every way. We choose to see the best in them- just the way we choose to see the worst in ourselves.

At some point, we have had enough and decide to start improving ourselves. How do we do this? By improving ourselves in areas that you feel left out in.

Such as, seeing an influencer live your dream life. Now you’ll do everything you can to live like her because you think that once you achieve that, everything will be great. You try to improve in areas that have no direct relation to your inferiority complex.

You’ll try work on these things - while that can be in a way good because it’s alright to have a dream life and motivation for it, that doesn’t fix the inferiority issue.

Because the inferiority issue solely comes from lack of confidence and trust in yourself. Even if you get your ideal life like that influencer, that confidence won’t last long and you’ll find something else to panic about - you’ll compare yourself to your peers, or the anxiety of jobs after or the next shiny thing you want.

To actually combat inferiority issues you HAVE to build a connection with yourself. True confidence will only come when you connect with yourself with things that aren’t material things.

You need to cultivate a growth mindset and genuinely believe that you WILL get better with time, you WILL get smarter with time, you will improve your talent over time. You have to detach yourself from outcomes, whether positive or negative and just take it as life.

And this doesn’t happen overnight. It takes consistent effort to not feel fomo anymore or feel shitty.

You have to stop hesitating putting yourself first, putting your emotional needs first, standing up for yourself and saying a big fuck you to things that deserve it.

Not everything that you have today will be permanent in your life and that’s something you have to come to terms with.

But if your worth is fully dependent on other people, then you really need to sit down with yourself and start actually working on the relationship that matters the most - the one with yourself.

You’re intimidated by these influencers or the people who you want to be like, not because they wear designer bags, have cool outfits, vacations, boyfriends, girlfriends - but because they often have a very strong sense of identity.

They express what they like and don’t like. They don’t change themselves depending on the person in front of them. If there’s something they want, they go and get it. They pursue what makes them happy.

When do you plan on doing that for yourself?

So how do you do it?

You need to build a strong sense of self identity.

How? By dating yourself. Ask yourself questions that you would ask someone on a first date. What are your answers? These answers will not remain the same over time and they shouldn’t either. Here are some as a guide:

1. What do you like in general?

2. What do you dislike in general?

3. List all the things you like about yourself

4. List all the things you can improve about yourself

5. Where would you ideally want to be in 2 years?

6. What sort of a life do you wish you had right now?

Next step is continue dating yourself. Aim for one new experience a week. It doesn’t have to be major. It could be something simple such as a cooking a meal you’ve never made, solving crossword puzzles, trying to grow herbs, colouring books. With new experiences, you learn something about yourself, which allows you further build a connection with yourself. Literally date yourself.

Take care of yourself the way you would care for a partner. How do you want to be cared for? What makes you feel loved and appreciated? Show yourself the same things too.

[anarchoherbalism]

Mental health is a lawn; Desire is a prairie

Introduction

A little over a month ago, I began posting about upcoming changes in my practice, which I’ve been working on since. As I said in an instagram story, I realized that I’ve been pretty bad about replacing surface-level words instead of actually challenging underlying concepts; so, I’ve been taking some time to work on learning to better articulate my philosophy.

In the following essay I am going to try to explain my critique of psychiatry and offer a framework to replace it. You don’t have to agree with anything I say to receive herbs, advice or education from me. If I only wanted to work with people that believe the same things as me, I would stick to caring for my network of friends and accomplices. I have a public-facing practice to offer something immediately and materially useful to (broadly speaking) anyone that asks for it. I’m writing this because—while we may or may not be/become friends—my services are a personal gift, and I do not want them to be received as a function of psychiatry.

Most of all, I believe that everyone has an idea about what the future will hold, and everyone is trying to bring that idea to fruition. Ultimately there is nothing in my lifetime that will result in everyone being on the same page about what we all “should” be doing; and we are all relatively powerless on a global scale. What I can do is help the people I can touch, and walk away from those that want to force me to believe things I don’t want to believe in. I can’t make universal healthcare happen, right now or decades in the future; but I can fight tooth and nail to help heal the people around me for free, and I can share, liberate and generate knowledge to help others do the same.

I’m writing with a very limited scope here—if I was having an easier time writing this it would very quickly become an entire book, not a 3,700-some-odd word essay. I’m asking to you believe at face value that this is what I consider to be true; unfortunately I don’t have the capacity to write out an argument containing all the applicable historical evidence and referential sources right now. I hope at some point I do.

Part 1: Groundwork

Lobotomistic violence

I’m going to start by laying out a definition that I think is important to understanding where I’m coming from. I started using this term because I think it marks a useful distinction in how certain people are treated by psychiatry.

Lobotomistic violence is the set of psychiatric “treatments” that intend to make someone “normal” by reducing/inhibiting function in certain parts of their brain. While surgical lobotomies are generally considered outdated and barbaric in mental health culture, the root concept is still very much alive and well. Several antipsychotic drugs have similar effects to surgical lobotomies, and many more otherwise limit brain function in other ways. These drugs can prevent the people they’re prescribed to from thinking abstractly or feeling deeply, and often cut them off from meaningful parts of themselves.

According to the psychiatric framework there are people who need support, understanding, and accommodation; and people who need their bodyminds* to be physically altered and parts of them literally removed/made nonfunctional. Lobotomistic violence is a “last ditch” effort, when less extreme forms of medication or therapy are considered “ineffective”. Sometimes this comes after a long process of trying different treatments—but a lot of people are subjected to lobotomistic violence because they occupy a social position that society sees as a lost cause from the start, like people kidnapped off the street by ambulances in the middle of a psychotic break, or kids in state custody.

*Bodymind is a popular term in mad liberation that refers to the mind and body as a cohesive whole–it invokes the idea that we do not just inhabit our bodies, we ARE our bodies.

Defining mental health

(In this section, I’m using a very charitable interpretation of psychiatry from a scientific standpoint. Even the most advanced neuroscience cannot reliably identify specific mental disorders or their causes—but even if it could, it would still be fundamentally bad, and that’s the point I want to make.)

Civilization is an organism and an ecosystem in its own right, with structures to achieve equilibrium and to perpetuate itself. The choices that we make and options we see as available have been formed by thousands of years of accidents and choices that shape patterns of behavior and create social constructs. It is these structures I’m referring to when I talk about control.

In order for civilization to exist as it currently does, the people and things subjected to it must be easily understood, because things that are understood can be controlled. An example my friend used was a small, early agrarian state—a ruler wants to collect tax, with the goal of collecting as much as possible to enrich his position against neighboring states. He cannot collect too much tax, or else the population will either starve, or get angry and refuse to participate in the state; so to maximize what can be taken he has to know how much is produced, and in turn the farmers have to know how much they produce to know what they owe and what they need to meet immediate needs. Civilization needs to reduce complicated questions to knowable categories in order to respond in ways that benefit itself. This legibility occludes true understanding, pares down the messy, beautiful, difficult-to-communicate nature of life into one-dimensional criteria to be accounted for and processed. To see how these criteria are constructed, let’s look at an oak tree.

The name “oak tree” refers to a thing that exists, pretty indisputably (at least until you get into existentialism but, uh, let’s not go there). However, the name “oak” is something people made up. There are many different perspectives one might understand an oak tree from. Whatever lens you want to use impacts what characteristics you focus on and how you understand them in relation to the whole. You focus on certain attributes to create a story—if you’re using a scientific lens, you might look at DNA and draw connections to other DNA to tell a story about genetic history. Genetic history is also a human construct that only focuses on the pieces that are significant to the stories our culture wants to tell. These stories are what we use to build knowable categories; but a squirrel doesn’t give two nuts about the genetic history of an oak tree, and likely has its own stories that are entirely alien to us—because different attributes are significant to its life.

Mental disorders are real in the same way an oak tree is real—and fake in the same way an oak tree is fake.

The experiences that diagnostic labels describe are real, but the way disorders are defined is 100% a social construct that is entirely dependent on what is significant to our culture, scientifically backed or not.

“Health” is defined as bodymind states that are convenient for cultural perpetuation; and illness is bodymind states that are not. What experiences and attributes are constructed as diagnostic categories is dependent on what is valued and relevant to the dominant culture—and more importantly, what is conducive to the reproduction of that culture.

In our modern society, people who do not fit squarely into the mold of a responsible, reproductive citizen are either validated or marginalized. These are both methods of control, pushing people into legible categories to make them more easily understood and influenced by society. Validation might look like a kid who’s disruptive in class getting diagnosed with ADHD and working more closely with the school to receive accommodation, whereas marginalization might look like a disruptive kid getting diagnosed with ODD and being treated as if any resistance to an authority figure is a symptom of disease for the rest of their life.

In psychiatry, validation is “positivity”. This extends from clinical practice to what I’m going to call “mental health culture”, the expansion of psychiatry from a form of medicine to a fixture of culture. I’m going to talk about this more in a minute, but for now the point is: mental health does not identify a list of “problems” that exist in a vacuum. It constructs sicknesses in order to justify control. Which leads us to…

This wouldn’t work if we didn’t care about each other

Unfortunately, there’s no simple malice to blame here. A lot of the ways psychiatry hurts people are made possible by compassion. I try not to make generalizations about the human condition OR evolution-based arguments, but I do believe very deeply that humans are a fundamentally social species and that we are physically predisposed to caring about each other—evidenced in part by how much of the coerced labor necessary for society to function depends on making it hard to even SEE enslaved and low-class people, let alone extend solidarity and care to each other. The history of modern psychiatry (mostly over the past 200 years) and the birth of mental health is a chaotic mash of capitalistic profiteering, attempts to stifle liberatory movements, and individuals who are genuinely trying to take care of other people, all informed by the underlying assumptions about what “mental illness” is that I just described.

Brief digression: I’m always tempted to put “mental health” into quotes, but “mental health” implies a distinction between what I’m referring to and some other legitimate, non-fucked-up mental health that just doesn’t exist, so assume whenever I say mental health I’m using a slightly sarcastic tone.

Mental illnesses are, by and large, defined and diagnosed based on suffering, and the treatments, by and large, are designed to reduce suffering—or, the assumption that someone is suffering. How that suffering is measured and defined is still dependent on the basic assumption that correctly reproducing culture is good for you and not doing so is bad for you. For example, many diagnostic criteria measure one’s ability to work productively, and our society assumes wage labor is the norm for a healthy life. Sometimes, this is obfuscated by so many layers of reformed language and liberal feel-good-ism that many people who would disagree with that assumption when said so plainly (reproducing culture is good for you and not doing it is bad for you) are still deeply invested in mental health culture.

Diagnostic categories pick out certain experiences and characteristics to name as symptoms of a disease—but human brains are not very easy to put into boxes. Who is pathologized—labeled as diseased—is heavily dependent on their class status, and how well their behaviors contribute to the status quo. A lower-class non-Christian is more likely to be labeled as psychotic for describing their spiritual beliefs and experiences; whereas a richer person who talks about “being spoken to by the Holy Ghost” is simply a religious fanatic. We see consistently demographic-based diagnostic biases for disorders that are supposedly an issue with predetermined brain “hardwiring”, such as autism and ADHD being diagnosed more in white children, whereas Black children receive ODD diagnoses. By associating abnormality with suffering, and enforcing suffering for the abnormal, attempting to make people normal can represent reduction of suffering and a kindness. This dynamic is even more heavily enforced when people actively choose non-normative lifestyles: someone’s body state is not conducive to them living a “normal” life and they don’t even WANT to change, that means they are extra unhealthy. Under this logic, (attempting to/)forcing them to change is doing a good thing for them and thus the kindest course of action.

Everyone who advocates for broader mental health services is contributing to psychiatric and lobotomistic violence through kindness. There are plenty of people who think positively of their interactions with psychiatric institutions or mental health culture, AND there are ways to reduce harm when participating in mental health culture/be more honest about the risks involved; but encouraging people to participate in clinical settings is still encouraging people to put themselves in vulnerable, potentially dangerous positions.

Madness vs. pathology

Anyone can be crazy. I highly recommend trying it. Experiences are individually varied and highly personal—some people see and hear things other people don’t, some think in ways that are strange or confusing to others, and so on—but madness is simply refusal to conform to normative categories of mind-state and behavior. It is not bowing to social norms and the embrace of abnormal experiences that get in the way of a middle-class aspirations.

Pathologizing is the process by which madness is constructed as sickness. Pathology includes all the things that are “unapproved” about madness and it increasingly includes things that are only minorly inconvenient to our legibility and our participation. People re-contextualize experiences they never thought twice about as part of a disease, simply because they were given a label. “I never knew that was a BPD thing!”

Mental health culture encourages and facilitates this creep because even though its participants will often nominally criticizing practitioners who enact psychiatric violence, they continue to rely on the frameworks this violence is based on. Mainstream criticism of psych focuses on the idea that individual doctors (and/or institutions) apply psychiatry poorly, but it caries the implicit assumption that if it was only used correctly it would be a benefit. This can look like social/support groups of people identifying with a common or related diagnoses criticizing the way psychiatrists behave while encouraging people to self-diagnose, seek certain medication or therapy, or otherwise enforcing mainstream assumptions about the ontology of mental disorders.

Pathologizing talk surrounds us: “I think you might have ___”, “I’m like this because I have ___”, etc. It feels very similar to the ways in which certain queer spaces invent and push labels to describe every possible facet of gender or attraction, because well, it is. Both fixations gain traction because we are told that making ourselves legible to the outside world and making those around us legible in the same way will make us feel less lonely or invisible. Unfortunately, only letting people understand us in terms of our categories instead of on our own, unique terms continues to compound this loneliness. In an effort to make the system “work” we expand what experiences are known, create new labels and try to champion “inclusion”, instead of addressing the forces and dynamics surrounding the things that feel lonely, invisible, and difficult to communicate… A list of abbreviations doesn’t tell the world who you are, it tells the world how to react to you.

Many people who ascribe to psychiatric frameworks still live in ways that resist legibility. There are also plenty of people who are both mad and mentally ill, who use diagnostic labels but do not seek to conform to standards of “treatment”. There are also many people who use these labels to pressure conformity from themselves and those around them. It seems to me like the majority of people who, for example, encourage everyone around them to go to therapy, have never had a practitioner make good on the implicit threat of psychiatric violence.

The role of saneism

It would be incomplete for me to talk about the role of kindness without talking about the role of prejudice.

Saneism is a different form of bigotry than say, racism. It is not hatred of an “other” group that the “perpetrator” is not and never will be a part of. It’s more like fatphobia: hatred of a body state that every human being has the potential to experience. It is self-inflicted as much as it is wielded against the other.

Saneism is a tool to select who is and isn’t crazy. It should be clear at this point that there is no “sane” human being; sanity is only the ideal they beat you with. If you can emulate sanity well enough, driven by fear of internal and external hatred of madness, you are sane. If you can’t, you are insane, and either you can be mentally ill, assimilate to the categories and modes of behavior that are deemed acceptable for people like you; or, if you can’t do that, you’re crazy, and your options are either to submit to lobotomistic violence or to refuse to participate in psychiatry.

Part 2: Praxis

As I said at the beginning: The experiences that psychiatry addresses are real. Critique is all well and good in that it helps us name and understand the systems we live in, but it is only part of the process towards doing something better. Here is my attempt at building a model. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

A lawn is an artificially maintained shape, but a prairie is created organically through small and large events, which lines up nicely with the idea that mental health, as a noun is a standard that must be maintained, but desire, as a verb is a process of seeking, experiencing and evaluating that builds and grows in symbiosis.

Mental Health is a Lawn

The process of maintaining mental health through the reduction of suffering is like the process of maintain a lawn. A lawn is a pre-defined shape created through the prescription of behaviors and chemicals (weeding/mowing; herbicides/pesticides); regulated to be non-challenging and “safe” (no spikey plants, bee or wasp nests, etc) in the name people’s comfort and at the cost of native species; and prioritizing a certain socially-imposed aesthetic at great cost to the environment. Lawns have to be nourished (fertilized and watered) to grow, but are not allowed to get taller or more robust than a set value so that they’re easy to trim regularly with minimal effort. Lawns are monocultures with shallow roots that do not stand up to environmental conditions like drought without intervention. Lawns are also a standard everyone knows–and holds each other to, judges each other based on.

Likewise, to maintain “mental health”, people are regulated to a predefined standard that prioritizes “normal” aesthetics and the “safety” and comfort of others through the prescription of chemicals and habits (medication and therapy). Everyone knows the rules enough to police themselves and each other. Peoples’ material and emotional needs are taken into consideration enough for them to survive (and not commit suicide), but no one is well-supported enough to not feel the pressure to work; and people do not have the freedom to self-regulate on their own so when crisis occurs, you either have to keep working or rely on psychiatric intervention such as hospitalization.

Desire is a Prairie

Seeking desire is like how a prairie or grassland maintains itself as an ecosystem. Many types of plants grow deep symbiotic root systems that create resiliency and allow the ecosystem to survive through many environmental changes. Critters and bugs may kill/destroy plants at times, but they also reuse and decompose detritus and allow the ecosystem to recycle material and stored energy, spread seeds, etc. A prairie is too tall to be mowed easily by a conventional lawn mower and must be poisoned or crushed via heavy machinery. It is a complicated, compelling and beautiful organism that takes years of interaction to understand.

Desire cultivates varied experiences that let us practice the flexibility to survive distress emotionally, and shapes our lifestyles to prioritize self-regulation. Pain, whether external, self inflicted, or both, is an inherent part of life; but pain can allow us to grieve, process and grow, to clarify our desires, and maintain our bodyminds. When we live by desire we become unwilling to bend to social rules that don’t suit us, become uncontrollably mad, and are accustomed to freedom such that we can only be recuperated through incarceration and lobotomistic violence.

A prairie takes a long time to grow, and is difficult to support in a society that demands lawns. Switching from a mental health model to a desire model isn’t a simple or quick thing. Most of us will resemble something more like an overgrown lot, which is just as valuable.

Part 3: What this means for me

It’s taken a long-ass time to be able to articulate these concepts, so it feels extremely good to have finally made the pieces click.

Ultimately, what I offer isn’t substantially changing—at least right now, though I do have a new offering I’ll be announcing in the near future that incorporates herbalism into pleasure-seeking activities. I’ll still be here for consultations, workshops, and informal support; but the foundations are different, and I will be more explicitly incorporating these ideas into how I teach and discuss concepts. You might notice that the pages on my website have been rewritten and restructured, hopefully in ways that represent these ideological changes.

Something that comes up fairly frequently in conversation with my friends and accomplices who do similar public-facing non-hierarchical healing work is how to respond when people come to us expecting more standard frameworks: When people talk to us expecting to be told things about their bodies, or for us to diagnose a sickness and tell them what to do about it. To me, figuring out how to deal with these interactions is a matter of building and improving social skills; figuring out what questions to ask to break the script. This is just as much practical as it is ideological: What I do is in no way compatible with Western Medicine or psychiatry—the tools I have work granularly, effecting a few parts of the body at a time in specific ways. I can help you sleep, eat, relax, play, reduce fear, increase focus, cope with grief, ground thoughts and emotions, feel pleasure… but I do not use diagnostic categories, I do not offer “antidepressants” or treat disease. Someone telling me they have PTSD gives me exactly 0 information about what they want me to be doing for them. In some ways what I think what I already do in these interactions does more to ground my practice outside of psychiatry than any long-ass manifesto or theoretical explanation; but if you want to know why I do what I do, well, there you have it I guess.

[anbuthalapathy]

Best NGOs in Chennai - Prajha Trust and its Social Activism

Chennai has many NGOs that serve social welfare causes, but Prajha Trust always makes its mark as a leading NGO in Chennai. Prajha Trust's efforts towards education, healthcare, women empowerment, environmental sustainability, and community development continuously strive to help deprived communities. It is because of the immense support that the city has received from these NGOs which makes it one of the most developed cities in the country.

Educating Underprivileged Children

Education is every person’s right. NGOs like Prajha Trust, which is known as one of the top educational NGOs in Chennai, do their best to ensure that every underprivileged child receives education. Sponsored tutoring classes, scholarship excel programmes, digital literacy classes, and career counselling workshops are a few of the programmes offered by the organisation. The students are provided with the skills and resources which help them to close the educational gap and change their future.

Ensuring Good and Affordable Health Care for Everybody

Healthcare has a direct impact on the growth of any society and how well it functions. Prajha Trust is one of the NGOs based in Chennai that addresses the healthcare needs of the population and provides free medical camps, health check-ups, and lectures on preventive healthcare. In addition, it has also provided maternal and child healthcare support for families who face difficulty meeting healthcare expenditure.

Social Programmes and Initiatives for Empowering Women

Along with healthcare, women empowerment is another area of focus and concern. Prajha Trust is among the few NGOs based in Chennai that helps women become independent through vocational training, self-defence classes, and financial education. To those who wish to start a sustainable livelihood, women are also offered skill development courses such as sewing, handicrafts, and entrepreneurship. Campaigns aimed at educating women about legal issues help them better understand the measures they need to take to protect themselves.

Prajha Trust and Greenery Preservation

With Prajha Trust, there is a constant effort towards maintaining environmental sustainability. Among the many NGOs in Chennai, Prajha Trust stands out as an example as they take charge of organising and sponsoring tree planting campaigns, waste disposal initiatives, and water preservation practices. Through their constant awareness programmes, they promote the notion of having a clean as well as green environment.

Disaster Relief and Rehabilitation

During a disaster or any emergency, Prajha Trust offers relief measures and rehabilitation services to attend to affected communities with emergency medical relief and aid. They are renowned for their long-term rehabilitation support programmes which assist families in safely rebuilding their lives after the disaster. As one of the distinguished NGOs in Chennai, they strive to provide food, clothing, medical aid, and other essential materials to those who need them the most.

Holistic Community Development

Prajha Trust emphasises sustainable community development through a combination of various strategies which include economic, legal, political, and socio-cultural. As one of the most prominent NGOs in Chennai, Prajha Trust has also developed and implemented old age pension schemes and empowerment programmes for the poor to support self-employment and poverty alleviation to create a self-sustaining community.

Conclusion

Alongside its strong commitment to education, healthcare, women empowerment, environmental care, and community development initiatives, Prajha Trust stands out as one of the Top  NGOs in Chennai , India. With these transformative initiatives, Prajha Trust aims to facilitate social equity. These profound changes have and will continue to impact many lives, making it easier for people to contribute towards genuine social change through support provided to Prajha Trust.