#as punishment for not being born wanting to be a doctor or a lawyer and having all the capabilities and resources to do it

[heyitsphoenixx]

ever since i was a little [redacted] i always wanted to be a person who has a place in society

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

My favourite jobs of MDZS characters in a modern AUs (that aren’t business men cause that’s too obvious) and why, in no specific order!

WWX

Graphic designer (XZ former job, freelancer)

Gardener (he loved it !!)

Athlete (all rounder)

Photographer, specifically landscape/storms or otherwise on site stuff (free/unbound)

Artist (freelancer and creative)

Flutist

Band member specifically bassist and lyricist

DJ (free)

Influencer (is he not basically that lol)

YouTuber

Journalist (he loves to annoy ppl and find things out that they’d rather not want)

Talk show host/interviewer

Stunt man (he loves the adrenaline)

Crazy scientist/engineer (achieve the impossible)

Basically anything that is full of freedom, where he can travel wherever, whenever he wants! Something unbound to a place and by his own rules.

LWJ

Vet (he loves those bunnies so much)

Classical musician

Music teacher (loves music/good with kids)

Fashion designer (have you seen his wardrobe)

Librarian/archivist (he likes order)

Judge on a music competition show (we know he loves to judge ppl but also bring out the best in them)

Influencer, doesn’t talk in his videos at all, just shows the skill, wether it’s cooking, martial arts or music

Journalist (helps ppl and cares for the uncomfortable truth, no qualms running to the end of the world for it)

Critic (wether it’s restaurants or movies, judgemental but eloquent and fair)

Anything traditional and well regarded but that is supporting one or more of his interests. Then again he can be a judgmental and rebellious.

JC

Architect ( “rebuild the Yunmeng clan to its former glory” or sth. Also fashion for buildings but very logical, precise and pragmatic and mostly a highly regarded job)

Fashion designer (have you seen his wardrobe?!)

Lawyer (dude loves to argue and scare ppl but also cares for the right ppl to be punished aka 2in1 for him)

Meteorologist (who best to read the incoming storm but the storm himself ?)

YouTuber, specifically cooking channel “cooking with juijui” aka for JL

Gym teacher (we see him train his new disciples)

Swimmer (best swimmer of YM or what ? Drowns out his thoughts and focuses on his body which at least he knows)

Librarian/archivist (he likes order and is stuck in the past)

Dog trainer

Vet/animal shelter owner (he loves those dogs so much and if he can’t have them he’ll at least treat them)

For him I love the two extremes of either sth that his parents will highly approve of cause it gets them money and status or sth that is completely just for himself and his interests, be it animals or his nephew

LXC

music teacher ( loves music and good w/kids)

Art teacher ( can draw and good w/kids)

Librarian (quite life he craves )

Professor

Flutist

Classical musician (traditional)

Yoga teacher

Voice actor for self help books and stuff

Judge (fair but steadfast)

Museum director (traditional and honoring the past)

Born a teacher I believe. Patience of a saint, not condescending at all and skilled at everything he does. Doesn’t need the fame of being a pro.

Some obvious ones

Wen Qing = doctor

JYL = Cook (Restaurant or celebrity with talk show)

NHS = fashion designer

NMJ = personal trainer

Feel free to add!

[wannaberp]

— WHO IS HWANG YEJUN?

he’s a TWENTY-ONE year old wannabe, born SEPTEMBER 21, 2001. he’s currently undecided regarding companies and lives by the words “a bird cannot love freely when caged.” 

maybe you should learn more or ask him a question.

▶ PLAY THE CLIP [ harsh_critique.mp4 ]

“we just wish you’d apply yourself like your brothers do.”

“your brother yechan is so handsome. you would be too if you lost weight.”

“yesung was such a nice boy. you’re not really like him, are you?”

yejun doesn’t know how long he’s been hearing those words. different each time, from his parents, his aunt, even his school teachers who taught his brothers before him. they used to bother him more, he realizes. when he was still young, more full of fire, more full of life than he is now. he remembers being hardly more than a toddler, just starting his first day of school, and his teacher remarking on how his brothers were such a pleasure to have in class and she’ll look forward to teaching yejun. the child had stomped his feet and shouted that he’s not his brothers, that he’d like her to like him for him, not for his relatives who she taught before him.

at least she had apologized, though she did later tell his parents that he was a feisty child who needed to learn better respect. they lectured him for a full hour about being more like his brothers. he wished they’d just listen to him instead.

“you’re not good-looking enough to be an idol, you know.” 

his aunt again, who pinched his cheeks and called him fat once more. he got used to that too, though it used to make him mad. he would be punished if he slapped her hands away and called her out on her meanness, though. so he learned to tolerate it.

“yechan and yesung had much better test scores… i suppose this will have to do.” 

yejun can only hang his head. he feels his eyes burning, but he knows his father will scold him if he sees him cry. he really did work hard. he studied day and night for the exam, keeping his end of the deal and trying to actually make his parents proud. he should have known that it would never be enough. one brother was already a lawyer, the other on his way to being a doctor. they were any parent’s dream. yejun, on the other hand, settled for economics. it’s not as respectable, at least not as far as his parents are concerned, but at least he’ll make decent money with the degree.

he just wishes they’d say something nice to him. just once, just one word of praise and he’d be happy. and not at the expense of his brothers either; he just wants to be acknowledged as yejun, good at something, and not just the youngest disappointment after two incredible success stories. 

[ongit0]

Omg hi! I love your blog! I didn't know if your request were open, so, please, feel free to ignore this, if they aren't!

I just love how you write for Lou from Uglydolls, the poor man here he's higly undereted! So I was just gonna request more Lou! If you want of course!

I don't have much plot preferences, maybe something with a insicure/shy reader? Kinda the opposite of Lou!

Thank u, have a good day/night!

Btw sorry for any grammatical mistakes, english it's not my first language!

Of course I can do that! I’m happy to take offers whenever I can. Sorry this took so long!

Can’t Help The Inflicted

“You don’t have a reason to be shy. You’re pretty just as you are. Just, smile more.”

I was sure everything was a lie. Pretty dolls are always good at lying. So when Louis came to me one day and offered me the position to work for him I couldn’t say no, not to Lou at least. No one can. How could you say no or tell someone so perfect that they were doing the wrong choice?

I stared dead ahead, one foot stepping before the other in Grace. My hid being perfect was taking a toll on me which I was grateful no one noticed. It’s almost like living a double life, an endless loop of lying to myself that I must be careful from stains, spills or smudges. I can’t let anyone know how stupid I am — or worse, how stupid Lou could’ve to even choose me. He has an image to keep. I couldn’t screw up in any way or form. So, I always hid behind the 4 girls: Maddy, Kitty, Tuesday and Lydia.

If there’s any job to take besides working beneath Lou’s watchful gaze, always on the look out for any flaws, I’d take it in a heartbeat. Lawyer, doctor, engineer — anything! I’d trade my spot for one of the girls than continue to work next to Lou. He wasn’t unbearable, no, far from it. I just cousins bare the reminder how I lied my way into this position. I couldn’t bare the thought of thinking how much of a phony I am that I lied so hard through my teeth to get a fake image of myself into his head that I’m so perfect. Too perfect that I reached someone’s expectation that Lou “just had to have me work with him”.

Through few glimpses of clarity I have, I’m able to take the time and get a break. I can’t help but hate myself. From the stuffing I was born from and the threads that made me — self loathing of how much of a people pleaser I am. The moment someone grants any acknowledgement to me I can’t help but fix myself into getting so close to what I see as perfection.

I should have graded with Maddy our event director or Kitty, our program hostess executive. Hell, I could have been the communication executive like Tuesday or the interior and fashion designer for the doll’s homes and transa like Lydia. Why should I be stuck as Lou’s secretary? Was this a form of punishment for lying so much? Did I bite more than I can chew? My lies had zero bad intentions! I just did them to save face — I can’t risk to be sent to the recycling bin or get set on for a spin in the washing machine. Or worse, thrown into the incinerator!

I had to be perfect, plan out my schedule for Lou and I. It was starting to drain me in every form. I was the second face ever doll idolized. “Why me?” I found myself repeating over and over again. Each day was a trial, hiding and masking any flaws the best I could. If not from the other dolls, I had to hide any imperfections from Lou.

I fixed any crooked or stained on my now pearly whites, cut through any extra stuffing in me. I stayed quiet, living in Lou’s shadow in complete silence. I couldn’t let him know the several voice cracks I go through a day if I talk for too long. They get worse when I talk to him specifically, stuttering over my own tongue. I couldn’t let myself get judged so, I let Lou take control. From him doing all the talking to making all our choices. I gave up any freedom I ever had. I wasn’t sure what to do with that freedom — I would just end up spending the rest of my days having to stress over perfecting any hobbies.

“Thank you all so much for attending! Stay away from messes and stay perfect!” He winked at the crowd after his announcement of the Gauntlet. The date had to be moved once the Uglydolls arrived.

Lou glanced over at me as he twirled on the heel of his shoe. He skipped down the stairs with soft steps, his shoe clicking on each way down. I was a few steps behind him, letting everyone’s eyes pry on him. I couldn’t let them undress me or address any flaws I hid terribly.

I averted my gaze from everyone as we made it to Lou’s office. He sighed with his hands behind his back, looking out his large office window. He stared down at the soft orange sun setting behind the tiny white town homes. I took a gulp and deep breath. All day I think I forgot how to take an actual breath. I tense feeling in my soft plush body left as soon as the wind left through my puckered lips. I glanced over to see one of Lou’s hands not balled up into a fist.

I read through Lou like a book. I’ve worked countless shifts in order to be perfect. I stepped forward, placing my hand in his. I frowned at how soft his hands were compared to my large ones. I couldn’t help but eye at our slight height difference. Despite Lou being the perfect height for any doll to achieve, I was the tallest. God, I want to just crumble away or cover my face with a hoodie. I wanted to slip away from him, not wanting him to touch such imperfections. But I couldn’t allow him to see how — “Nervous?” He chuckled. “Hm?” I turned my head to him. “No, no not that. More like, it’s amazing to be with you…” I mentally face palmed myself for my stammering lips. I have a small timid smile, careful to not show my teeth too much. He smiled back. “You’re amazing in every way. Well, almost.” He let out a tiny scoff. He seemed to take pleasure at the frown on my lips. “You’re a terrible liar.” I averted my eyes, taking in any last breaths I could take before insults came down storming on me.

Instead of stabbing me with his words and sweet honey voice, he dropped his arms at his side. I could still feel his blueberry eyes on me. I wish I could open my mouth and strike something out but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to stare at me, especially how close we are. I don’t want him to stare any harder before he sees how I see myself. The blemishes in my cheek, the freckles scattered on my wrist, ears and face.

I slightly jolted up at Lou softly tugging on my long doll arm. He led us to his piano bend. As we settled next to each other, he scooted close enough to hold my arm. I sighed, taking his hand in mine. “What would I do without you?” He muttered softly but clear enough for me to hear him. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?” I asked. “It can go both ways.” Silence filled the room. I leaned back ver to his touch, feeling a crooked smile creep on my lips.

“Thank you for not seeing me as just an idol but as a doll.” The blonde said quickly, hoping I was stupid enough to not pick up his pacing of words. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?’ I felt slow forming tears well up in my eyes which I quickly blinked back inside. The burning feeling on my cheeks didn’t subside, especially when he’s hooked on my arm and holding my hand and softly poking his finger tips to my own. He seemed amused with playing with my fingers. I didn’t want to ruin this moment with my voice. His concentrated and fixed gaze of admiration was something I practically lived for. It’s beautiful to stare at those blue eyes of his but I immediately twist my head away once those same blue eyes turn to my direction.

“You’ll always be the most beautiful doll in my eyes. Perfect in your own way.” Fuck, I screw up. Big time. I know it.

He didn’t turn to face me. His chest stopped moving at his steady breathing and instead slightly sunk inwards. I mentally cursed at myself. I could feel him tighten his grip on me, pressing his cheek on my shoulder. His sudden soft laugh got caught in the strings of my heart. “I’m beautiful?” He looked up at me with a slightly raised eyebrow and flirtatious gaze. Those same eyes, they were fixed with admiration. I knew that look so much. I was nearly speechless when I came to realized that he was staring at me.

We were all so focused on the Institute of Perfection’s quotas of “Pretty Dolls”, I’m starting to doubt where the hell I heard the word beautiful from. Even if I was unsure where I heard it from or how I was supposed to address it in my stammering sentences, from the bottom of my heart I said the truth to him.

“Yes.” I said with confidence. The red color on our faces spread even more. We both looked down at our hands, unsure how to approach what I said. It’s not every day you get acknowledged as something so precious like a doll or looked at or even noticed by someone as perfect as Lou.

Isn’t it stupid how 2 dolls are so insecure found each other? Seeking validation from each other and reassurance despite not being able to believe in the other’s words? Two insecure dolls — one just being better at hiding it while the other hides in the shadows like a loser.

I know I’m sometimes a shutout but I’m not stupid Lou.

[fluffynexu]

imperial life (sorta)

life within the empire is very structured. it’s a society where everyone Knows Their Place and what they’re supposed to be doing.

for ex. there is a certain “life schedule” that imperial citizens are expected to adhere to.

ages:

0-5, raised by family as infants. sent to daycare during toddler years.

5-10, primary school. begin basic education.

10-15, junior school. continue education.

15-20, senior school. start some training alongside education.

20-25/30, MANDATORY SERVICE TIME.

25/30+, marriage and having children encouraged and you can live your life.

now after an individual completes their mandatory time actively serving, they can either continue to serve or return to other jobs and functions in the empire.

so you can have someone who was a foot soldier or sniper during their service time, but then return to “civilian” life as a florist or school teacher.

the sith follow a similar “life schedule”.

ages:

0-5, raised by family and like minded peer groups.

5-10, primary academy. basic training and education.

10-15, secondary academy. continued training and education.

15-20, preparatory academy. continued training and education.

20+, sith academy (proper) and from there, it depends on the individual sith’s master and rank.

tho the purebloods have a tendency to marry their children off after at the age of 20 (or young 20s) in hopes of procuring grandchildren (and therefore, securing family legacies) before anything... unfortunate happens.

another aspect of imperial life that is deeply entrenched within the civilization but never talked about too openly is the caste system.

everyone in the empire, sith or slave, is shoved into one of these castes. it is possible to move UP and DOWN. moving upward requires marrying someone of a higher caste, but ppl usually (tho not always!) stick to and marry within their own castes. moving down tends involves committing a crime and being punished for it, or disownment from family.

there are certain advantages of being a part of upper castes. which include, but are not limited to:

wider access on the holonet

higher pay

more options for housing

priority healthcare

less restrictions on travel

etc.

the two main groups the castes fall into are sith and imperial. obvs the sith castes are above the imperial ones.

castes among the sith are categorized by “blood purity” and family lineages. the older, purer bloodlines that can trace their roots to korriban are seen above sith who might not have such a heritage.

pureblood, greater families

pureblood, lesser families

human, greater families (usually have some pureblood family members as well)

human, lesser families (usually all human)

human, common (usually an individual that comes from a non-sith background that found sensitivity in the force)

alien

imperial castes on the other hand are categorized by “occupation” rather than bloodlines.

officers. self explanatory. within this caste the officers follow the rank order. ie, moff > captain.

healers. ppl who can help and heal others. doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, etc.

scholars. those who spend their time studying, researching, or teaching. scientists, philosophers, lawyers, professors, etc.

protectors. internal security of the empire. police type, firefighters, paramedics, emergency responders, imperial intelligence, etc.

farmers. self explanatory, also includes breeders (for fancy pets and vanity animals).

crafters. for those who MAKE or design things. artists, architects, engineers, cooks, tailors, etc.

traders. folks who buy and sell things or deal with money frequently. business people, vendors, bank folk, accountants etc.

entertainers. mostly performers of some type. actors, musicians, athletes, sex workers, etc.

cleaners. those who deal with trash or bodies. janitors, butchers, housekeepers, manicurists, waste management, groomers, etc.

casteless. ironically named, but still technically a caste. includes non citizens that may be visiting or traveling through, new imperial citizens, or disowned (usually non force sensitive) sith.

slaves. self explanatory.

in the old, old sith empire (pre arrival of exiles), the sith also had a ruler and priest caste. it can be argued that the two were simply merged into the modern sith grouping and all of their castes within.

as far as any that might be lawmakers and where they’d fit in. that’d be the dark council with some occasional input from very high ranking officers like the grand moff.

so in theory(!), anyone can move up or down the caste ladder. in reality it’s very rare and ppl are often born into one caste and simply live their life within its confines and die. but ppl across the entire caste system can and do work together frequently.

an ex is the sw and crew.

akrona is not only sith, but a pureblood from a greater family. making her one of the most privileged and (potentially) influential ppl in the empire.

quinn comes from a family of officers and they’ve all been at the relative top of imperial society for generations. even after his court martial he’s considered to be very lucky to have remained in the same caste.

pierce actually comes from farmers but managed to be promoted to an officer during his time in service. but since he wasn’t born into it, quinn some officers have an obvious bias against him for his position.

vette, being a freed slave is casteless. tho thx to having a sith benefactor and friend, she can get away with a lot more than others within her same social standing.

some notes under the read more since i KNOW you ppl don’t go to the op to read my darn tags! >,< lol

so... i know. i KNOW i didn’t list literally every single conceivable job that exist or could exist. you’ll have to excuse me on that lol.

and in case it wasn’t obvious, yes, i used my sw and my own hcs for the crew. NO, i am NOT saying that quinn dislikes pierce ONLY bc of “lower caste upbringing”. just that it’s one of many factors of tension between the two.

and regardless of caste, every citizen* in the empire is guaranteed food, shelter, water, and medical care. but obvs those in the upper castes would be eating the fanciest~ of feasts in their big ass floating mansions while the lower castes live off of ration bars and street food while living in small, utilitarian apartments. *does not include slaves since they are technically not citizens.

i am once again here to remind you that the empire is NOT

a democracy

capitalist

or a utopia

(but if for some reason you wanna make your empire all those things, go for it. i ain’t stopping you lol.)

but why castes?

bc it was an aspect of the ancient sith In Canon and thought i’d tinker with the concept.

lastly! i stfg...

IF YOU THINK ME MAKING A HC/WORLDBUILDING POST REFLECTS UPON MY MORALITY OR HOW I THINK A SOCIETY SHOULD BE RUN...

YOU HAVE NEXT LVL BRAIN ROT.

also, yes, you can use any/all concepts in whatever way you see fit if you want. you can also, ignore the whole thing!

[pedropascalunofficial]

My Cousin, Pedro Pascal

Ximena Riquelme

16 NOV 2017 12:53 PM

Before being the protagonist of Narcos or filming with Colin Firth, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal (42) was a child whom I knew very well because we are from the same family. A man who today looks with nostalgia and some perplexity at his place of origin and his history and who still does not answer what would have happened if he had stayed here.

The first memory I have of Pedro is in the arms of my mother during his baptism, in the garden of my house. She was a weeping bus and had huge black eyes. I was 9 years old. It was cloudy. Years later I learned that the priest was Gerardo Whelan, the legendary rector of Saint George's College. Pedro's parents were not at his baptism: my uncle, José Balmaceda, my mother's only male brother, and his wife Verónica Pascal were asylees at the Venezuelan embassy, which was on Bustos street, near my house. Pepe, as we used to say to my uncle, who years later would become a famous gynecologist, an expert in fertilization, was then a 27-year-old young doctor, in those days wanted by Dina. Some time before they had hidden Andrés Pascal Allende, Mirista and his wife's uncle. One day they came to take him to the José Joaquín Aguirre Hospital and he managed to escape by jumping through the roofs. It was October 1975.

Like most of the Chilean families, there were supporters of both sides in mine: for and against Pinochet. Trying to help Pedro's parents, my dad called a relative who held a high position in the Army. "Tell the children to get asylum, because I cannot guarantee their lives or that nothing happens to Veronica," was his reply. She was 22 years old. Then began the journey of my uncles and with them that of my cousin José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. Pepe and Verónica had to start living secretly in different houses. Pedro, who was only 6 months old at the time, and his 3-year-old sister Javiera were left in charge of my mother's older sister, "Aunt Juani."

The second memory I have of Pedro is when I accompanied my parents, who carried him and his sister in their arms, to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Venezuelan embassy so that their parents could see them through the window.

My uncles left the Venezuelan embassy for the airport in January 1976, Pedro was 9 months old and obviously does not remember anything. I just remember that they didn't let me go. Pedro could not record the image, which I could not see, of his grandfather Luis Pascal Vigil - a very prominent lawyer - singing the National Anthem on the balcony of Pudahuel. A memory that is not mine but that I adopted, for cute.

As the people of the International Red Cross advised our family on time, Pedro and his sister did not leave the embassy with their parents, but arrived directly at the airport: this allowed their passports not to be stamped with the "L" for " limited to circulate "that stamped on the exiles who left. Therefore, the years that Pedro and Javiera came could come to Chile without problems. And for that reason, the choclón of cousins, we were able to share long summers in Pucón and some winters in Santiago.

The Balmaceda Pascal first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark, in October 1976. A year later they left for San Antonio, Texas, where Pedro's father was able to continue improving himself thanks to a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Veronica earned a PhD in Child Psychology.

________________________________________

"But Denmark is invisible to me," Pedro writes me by email. A while ago I proposed to interview him at a distance to travel a little about his history, and here we are, in front of the computer, sharing memories. "It is invisible to me, like everything that happened before. Although once, after telling him about my childhood, a doctor told me that the temporary separation with my mother was trapped in the memory of my body and that I could remember it through the senses".

My cousin, far away

The third memory I have of Pedro is a summer in Pucón. It must have been in 1978. "Pepelo", as we said, was no longer a guagua but a restless, very blond boy, who was so impacted by poverty in Chile that when he went out on the street with his gringo accent, he asked any person: "Are you poor?" He took food out of the pantry and gave it away. With my cousins we rented a warm wooden house, colorful, with the door frames out of square. It was summers with trips to those black sand beaches that burned the feet and picnics in Caburgua with lamb on the stick. They took us to mass and Pedro sang very inspired.

"This is where the memories become more vivid, like dreams," he writes. "I remember so many details: my older cousins, children my age who were like family. The beach seemed endless. I also remember running down the hallways and stairs of Aunt Juani's house looking for Santa Claus at Christmas."

XR: What was it like leaving your parents in the United States?

PP: "I think the trauma was going back to the States, although I obviously wanted to be with my parents. But childhood in Chile, with the Balmaceda and Pascal, was a dream, a world where nothing was missing, pure adventure and love."

Now that he tells me that, I remember that image of Pedro hanging on the neck of our aunt Juani, crying in Pudahuel because she did not want to return. At that time going to the airport was a panorama: we were going en masse to leave him and his sister, who traveled in charge of the stewardesses.

In 1981 I went with my parents and my two sisters to see the Balmaceda Pascal in Texas. I remember an eternal road trip from Miami, I remember Pedro's house, in a middle-class neighborhood, comfortable, beautiful, lovingly arranged by his mother. I remember the tears of my mother and Pedro's mother when we said goodbye to return to Chile. We still didn't know when they could return. Although Pedro never fully returned.

In December 1983, Pepe and Verónica were able to enter Chile. The whole family was packed on the terrace of Pudahuel, waiting for them. I remember the Balmaceda Pascal walking from the stairs of the plane to the International Police. I remember them happy, triumphant. Pedro was 8 years old and chose to stay in my house, in love with my girl sister.

We all went to Quintero, to the house of our grandfather Pepe, a great smoker, tennis player, and fanatic fanatic who took us to the town cinema to see double Tora! Programs, Tora !, Tora! More Bridges on the River Kwai and other old movies. Surely Pedro had to see several. Since he was a boy he said he wanted to be a "director". He liked horror movies and was a big movie consumer, like his dad.

PP: "I remember going to the movies with the cousins and the grandfather to see anything with Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone. They leased me VHS movies to see alone and happy."

XR: You once recited Hamlet on the beach with Grandpa.

PP: "No, it was Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it and lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the United States."

After that summer, Pedro began to come more sporadically. He was already grown up, at school and then at university. They had moved to Newport Beach, California. His father was doing very well. But Pedro, not so much.

PP: "I think that the way the family supported me in Chile was the opposite of what I experienced in Newport Beach. I started well in California but at 13 years old, very involved in the cinema, reading plays, books, TV, TV, TV, obsessed with these things, I had the bad luck to find few like me. It was a world very attached to conservatism and its privileges where not fitting was punished. There was a group of shitty goats who were my friends the first year and became my terrors thereafter. I don't enjoy remembering that time, but there are deep connections from back then. Friends of my parents who are like parents until today."

Pedro's mom soon found a performance arts program at a high school in another district. A more inclusive school compared to Corona del Mar, the neighborhood where they lived in Newport.

PP: "My mom and my driver's license were my salvation. There I was able to unleash my appetite for movies and theater without limits."

As time went by Pedro became a fun, provocative teenager with character. He said he was "lazy", but he went to study Theater at NYU in 1993 and he loved it. I started to see it less. When he came to Chile he went out with his friends, I was already married and having children.

XR: Did you find that our way of life was very boring?

PP: "Bored, no. But overwhelming regarding life's permanent decisions. I didn't have the Catholic structure, and I felt there was no room for a young guy like me. Like suddenly, from one trip of mine to another, you had lives that included marriages and children, and pleasing the visits of the gringo cousin was no longer an option for all of you. I had to duel, because I was jealous of his inattention."

XR: Do you find us very conservative?

PP: "Yes, but it is a major contradiction for me. I come from the perspective that no one can decide how someone else should live their life. And well, in our family there are social rules that are very firm. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tries to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much with our family for fear of hearing their perspective, but what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask any member of our family by the name of Balmaceda, and I would get it."

In 1995, Pedro's parents returned to Chile with their two youngest children, Nicolás and Lucas, who had been born in California. Javiera also came for a couple of years. Pedro stayed in the United States.

PP: "It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family in the United States and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had in California. I never thought that this could change as suddenly as happened to my parents when they became exiles. Everything felt fragile. Also, I knew that my parents' marriage was wrong and that the tension of those circumstances was hardly going to end. My mother's life felt in danger and the line between needing her, being there for her and finishing my studies and pursuing a career was a horrible conflict. I knew that my mom wanted me to continue doing mine, she never would have wanted me to sacrifice it."

XR: Did you really resent the failure of your parents' marriage?

PP: "For me it was the hardest time. I have not been able, and I do not know if someday I will be able to reconcile completely how my parents separated and the tragedy that came after that separation. The circumstances of my mother's death made it very hard for us to keep her memory of who she was. It hurts so much ... Sometimes I feel distressed and try to face it in the best possible way, because I know that my mother would not like me to do it in any other way."

Pedro lost his mother when he was 24 years old.

PP: "It's hard to say what I remember most about her. You met her, so it is easy for you to understand that she was the love of my life. I think of her every day. Since I don't pray, I can't say that I have a practice to feel her close, but I live for her even though she's gone, and that makes sense to me."

From Alexander to Pedro

XR: Do you believe that pain makes us stronger or does it seem like a horrible cliché?

PP: "I don't think it's a terrible cliche but a profound reality. In some way, losing the most important person in your life, discovering that something like this is possible and that what you fear most in life can happen is an identifiable and permanent moment. There is a before and after after his death. I think, yes, that old age would not have been for my mother, there would have been no footwear with her. Of course, no one wants to grow old, but others can handle it better. I would not have liked to see my mom struggling with it, but at the same time, I wish I had her every day still with me."

It may have been the summer of 2012. Pedro said to our aunt Juani: "I am 37 years old and I still can't get what I want. And it's the only thing I know how to do." It had been a long time since the death of his mother in the summer of 2000 that Pedro had changed his name. From Pedro Balmaceda to Pedro Pascal. He had been searching for years, years of casting where, by being called Pedro Balmaceda in the studios, they hoped to find a Latin or classic Mexican phenotype. He had only made minor appearances in some series.

XR: Although you did not regret it, you did wear Alexander at some point. Why?

PP: "That was a desperate period and directly related to having lost my mother. I was desperate to work, to fill my days with something more to suffer. To eliminate the confusion that casting directors had with this guy named Pedro with European or Caucasian traits, I changed my first name to Alexander and took my mom's last name, Pascal. That only lasted a year, until I was able to find a job and be selected for an Ibsen theatrical classic. But it was too late for people to identify me as "Alex". Also, my mom named me Pedro. So the decision was to call me Pedro Pascal, a name that fits with me more than any other."

Soon after that came Brothers and Sisters, other small roles, and later more important ones in The Good Wife, The Law and Order, The Mentalist, until Game of Thrones, Narcos in 2015 and now, filming Muralla china with Matt Damon and William Dafoe - last year we all went to see his cousins together - and then Kingsman 2 with Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry and Channing Tatum.

XR : Have you ever been excited acting with such powerful actors?

PP: "I have been thrilled with everyone."

With fame have come the new meetings of the cousins with Pedro Pascal. We all want to see him, take pictures of us, we ask him for greetings-chub for friends, we inflate ourselves by saying that he is our cousin. That Peña, the protagonist of Narcos and the sexiest guy in the world, is my cousin-brother. He laughs and humorously calls us "scoundrels" because now we remember him. In fact, that's what our cousin chat on Whastapp is called.

But there is also the modesty to disturb him. Know that you are busy. That while I'm sending you these questions, you're filming in Boston with Denzel Washington. And to feel that there is always a lack of time to speak to him calmly, a space to ask him questions like the ones that occur to me now:

XR: Exile changed your life. Can you imagine growing up in Chile?

PP: "I don't know, because I haven't thought much about it. I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time."

XR: Do you miss something from when you were Pedro Balmaceda?

PP: "You know? There is very little difference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. As it is all part of José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I feel the same person. But with back problems and more money."

XR: Would you like to start a family?

PP: "Being a dad? I don't know. I have no fucking idea. I love being an uncle. It may just end there. But anything is possible."

XR: Marialy Rivas said something very nice about you on Saturday: that when you play a character, you pretend that this character brought a whole previous story, much bigger than what they are telling. And it's true: you carry a bigger story than you tell it.

PP: "I don't know, cousin. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what turns out. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes.

In reference to what Marialy said, I think she means that I put all my confusion, joy and sorrow, ambivalence, hostility, rage, love, lust, greed, compassion, ignorance, knowledge either to indicate a map with the finger on Narcos, throwing an arrow in Game of Thrones, lashing out at Kingsman. Cool! But I think my experience in theater taught me that."

XR: Would you someday like your life to be a script?

PP: "No way." (in english)

XR: Do you still want to be a "director", as you used to say when you were a kid?

PP: "Yes! That will be my way of being a father. Father of a production."

XR: Is dreaming about an Oscar the dream of every actor, even if you don't confess it?

PP: "I confess that possibly… yes."

[myfavoriteskdramas]

So guys, I've wanted to do this kind of list since a lot of time ago, of the kdramas that from my point of view are underrated, and I think more people who loves kdramas should give them a chance and watch them, so here is the first part:

1. Hogu's love aka Fool's love.

Ho Goo has a twin sister Ho Gyeong. He has tried to pass the civil service examination, but has failed for 7 years. He also has never dated in his life. One day, he meets Do Hee. She was the most popular girl back in his high school days. She is a member of the national swimming team and has a burning desire to win. She also talks like one of the guys. They spend the night together, but the next morning he finds a baby next next to him and Do Hee is gone. After Ho Goo meets Do Hee again, he becomes involved in a complicated romantic relationship and a dangerous friendship.

Link where you can watch it: https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/hogoos-love

2. The tale of nokdu aka Mung bean chronicles (one of my faves).

Jeon Nok Du is a man with extraordinary ambition to experience the big, wide world. With looks, brains, and athletic abilities, he is the epitome of perfection. After being swept up in an incident, he disguises himself as a woman to join a mysterious all-woman community and meets Dong Dong Joo.

Dong Dong Joo is a prickly gisaeng trainee. Along with her fiery personality, she is clumsy, has absolutely no sense of rhythm, and is tone-deaf, which makes all of her peers look after her. However, she is skilled with her hands as she can make anything if given the right tools. Unable to stand injustice, she speaks her mind.

Due to this fact, Jeon Nok Du ends up saving Dong Dong Joo from a dangerous situation. After that, she suddenly becomes Jeon Nok Du’s adopted daughter and he decides to live in the widow village for 1 year.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but you can watch it in this link too https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/mung-bean-chronicles

3. Clean with passion for now.

Jang Sun Gyeol has wealth and good looks but suffers from severe mysophobia. He is obsessed with cleaning and even owns his own cleaning company. However, he meets a carefree and untidy girl named Gil Oh Sol after she enters his company as a new employee.

Oh Sol has worked all sorts of part-time jobs while striving for a full-time job and does not have the luxury to date or be clean. She gave up on being neat after facing the tough reality of the world and is known for always wearing her trademark tracksuit. But she has a bright personality and does not mind getting dirty. With the help of Oh Sol, Sun Gyeol faces his mysophobia and also falls in love with her.

Link where you can watch it: https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/clean-with-passion-for-now

4. Live up to your name aka Deserving of the name.

Heo Im, who is born in a concubine family in Joseon era and has very outstanding medical skill, is frustrated about his career as he fails to climb to higher positions in the government because of his background. By accident, he travels through time to modern Seoul 400 years later and meets modern doctor Yeon Gyung. Thinking that Heo Im is weird, she hopes to get rid of Heo Im but instead, they travel back to Joseon together again.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on netflix, but you can watch it too in this link https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/deserving-of-the-name

5. Live On (Just finished one or two weeks ago) if you want to watch a short kdrama, this one it only has 8 episodes.

Live On” is set to be a romance story that follows the lives of Baek Ho Rang (Jung Da Bin), who is at the top of food chain at her high school where being trendy and popular brings higher social status, and Go Eun Taek (Minhyun), a perfectionist who is the head of the broadcasting club. Baek Ho Rang joins the broadcasting club in order get help from Go Eun Taek in uncovering the identity of a mysterious figure who is trying to bring to light parts of her past she wants to keep hidden.Baek Ho Rang immediately shot up to social media star status because of her beautiful looks and is one of the most popular girls at Seo Hyun High School. Despite being at the top of the social pyramid, she only has one true friend as she believes she is the center of the universe and looks down on others. Meanwhile, Go Eun Taek is in charge of the school’s broadcasting club and is someone who is sensitive, detail oriented, can sometimes be irritable, and plans everything out perfectly. Though he is strict and inflexible when it comes to his leadership, he never shies away from any task that is given to him and is loved by his fellow students.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but also you can watch it in this link

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/live-on-2020

6. Dinner Mate.

This drama is about a young woman going through a rough breakup with a longtime boyfriend she’s still in love with, and a young man who’s a serial dater and kind of tired of relationships. They both like to eat out but dislike having to go to nice restaurants alone, and they happen to meet while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, each of them alone. The hostess mistakes them for a couple and offers them a couple special, which prompts them to sit together and end up having dinner together. After their first unexpected meeting, they meet and have dinner together weekly. That’s how they strike up an unusual friendship where they get together just to eat out, and over multiple dinners, they open up to each other about their relationship troubles and grow closer.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/dinner-mate

7. Oh my venus.

This is a drama about two Childhood friends meet again in their adulthood and find themselves making a bet on a “diet challenge”. The story focuses on their journey of searching for love and health.

Kang Joo Eun meets Kim Yeong Ho, who agrees to be her personal trainer to help her get healthier. As they work on her physical transformation, they both discover they have feelings for each other. As they grow closer, they heal each other's emotional wounds and fall in love.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but here's the link too

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/oh-my-venus

8. Cheat on me if you can ( Is still on emission, there's only two episodes left).

For her work, best-selling crime author Yeo Joo researches how to make a murder look like an accidental death. Next to her is her younger husband, Woo Sung, who is a family man and works as a divorce lawyer. Woo Sung still thinks he's a sexy, attractive partner, and lives on with his wonderful marriage life. However, lately, Yeo Joo, who would rather be a widow than a divorcee, starts finding some of his behavior suspicious. Could he be cheating on her? Could Woo Sung possibly be enjoying a thrilling affair behind her back? Yeo Joo tells it straight: If he cheats, he will die.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but also here's the link https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/if-you-cheat-you-die

9. The beauty inside (one of my faves).

Han Se Kye is a top actress, also known as a troublemaker, with many rumors around her. To others, her life appears as a mystery, when in fact she is faced with a strange occurrence where she must change into a different body and new identity for one week a month. She encounters Seo Do Jae, a brilliant man who is an executive at an airline company. He seems to have it all: a perfect appearance, knowledge, and a good job; but he has a secret too. He suffers from Prosopagnosia, the inability to recognize faces. However, he manages to hide this from the world, every day he makes an effort to remember people by their personalities.

Seo Do Jae's life begins to change when he meets Han Se Kye. She is the only person whose face he can recognize. But with Han Se Kye's constant disappearance and change how long can she keep her secret?.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/the-beauty-inside-korean-drama

10. Royal secret inspector aka Secret royal agent (is on emission now, there's a few episodes left).

Set towards the end of the Joseon era, Sung Yi-Gyeom placed first in the state examination and he now works at the Hongmungwan (administrative and research department). He doesn't have a goal or ambition for his life. One day, Sung Yi-Gyeom is caught gambling. As punishment, he is assigned to work as a secret royal inspector. His job is to eradicate illegal acts and corruption by public officers. He carries out his new job with the help of Hong Da-In and Park Chun-Sam. Hong Da-In is a female inspector and solves cases with Sung Yi-Gyeom. Park Chun-Sam is Sung Yi-Gyeom’s servant. Park Chun-Sam is talkative, affectionate, and tearful.

Meanwhile, Sung Yi-Beom is Sung Yi-Gyeom’s younger stepbrother. His father is a nobleman, but his mother is a slave. Due to his mother's low social status, his father does not accept him as his real son and he is barred from having certain opportunities. He opposes his older stepbrother Sung Yi-Gyeom.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/new-secret-royal-inspector

[chiseler]

The House of D

As one of his final acts in office, Mayor Jimmy Walker broke ground in 1932 for the New York City House of Detention for Women, built on the site of the old Jefferson Market jail in Greenwich Village and colloquially known as the House of D. According to sociologist Sara Harris’ Hellhole (on John Waters’ list of recommended reading), It was intended as a model of prison reform. Opened in 1934, the twelve-story monolith of brownish brick with art deco flourishes loomed behind the old Jefferson Market courthouse on Sixth Avenue, looking more like a stylish if somewhat cheerless apartment building than a prison. Windows were meshed instead of barred, and the one sign on its exterior merely gave the address, “Number Ten Greenwich Avenue.” There were toilets and hot and cold running water in all four hundred cells, and it was going to focus on rehabilitating its inmates – prostitutes, vagrants, alcoholics and/or drug addicts – rather than merely punishing them. From the start the reality was at variance with the intentions, and the facility quickly became infamous as a combination of Bedlam and Bastille. Within a decade it was chronically overcrowded with a volatile mix of inmates: women who couldn’t make bail awaiting trials that were sometimes months off, women already convicted and serving time, alcoholics and addicts, the mentally ill, violent lesbian tops, street gang girls, hookers and other lifelong multiple offenders, and teenagers spending their first nights behind bars. Tougher, more experienced prisoners brutalized and sexually assaulted the weak and inexperienced. So, of course, did the staff. The halls rang with the howls of inmates suffering the agonies of drug or alcohol withdrawal. There were cockroaches and mice in the cells and worms in the food. Village lesbians called it the Country Club and the Snake Pit. The IWW organizer Elizabeth Gurley Flynn did time in the House of D, as did accused spy Ethel Rosenberg and Warhol shooter Valerie Solanas. In 1957, Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker movement, spent thirty days there for staying on the street during a civil defense air raid drill. Her ban-the-bomb supporters picketed outside every day from noon to two; the Times called them “possibly the most peaceful pickets in the city.”

Despite its bland exterior, the House of D made its presence very known in the neighborhood through the daily ritual of inmates yelling out the windows or down from the exercise area on the roof to the boyfriends, girlfriends, dealers and pimps perpetually loitering on the Greenwich Avenue sidewalk – a carnivalesque Village tradition for almost forty years. Waters first caught the spectacle in the early 1960s. “It was amazing. No one can ever imagine what that was like. All the hookers would be screaming out the windows, ‘Hey Jimbo!’ And all the pimps would be down on the sidewalk yelling stuff.” Writer and film producer Jeremiah Newton initially encountered it at around the same time. “It was this huge, monolithic building, looking like the building the Morlocks dragged the Time Machine into, and the girls were always yelling down, screaming obscenities and throwing things out the window. It was the biggest building there. I sat on a stoop watching the people walk by. I’d never seen anything quite like it before.” The Village writer Grace Paley lived near the facility in the 1950s and 1960s, and walked her kids past it regularly. She wrote that “we would often have to thread our way through whole families calling up – bellowing, screaming up to the third, seventh, tenth floor, to figures, shadows behind bars and screened windows, How you feeling? Here’s Glena. She got big. Mami mami, you like my dress? We gettin you out baby. New lawyer come by.”

Women arrested at antiwar rallies during the Vietnam era found themselves locked up in the House of D with the hookers, junkies, crazies and butch lesbians. On Saturday, February 20 1965, two eighteen-year-old college students, Lisa Goldrosen of Bard and Andrea Dworkin of Bennington, were arrested during an antiwar protest at the UN and sent to the House of D. There, they later testified, they were brutally mistreated and humiliated by male doctors “examining” them for venereal diseases, and forced constantly to fend off the rough advances of other inmates. They were not allowed to use a telephone until Monday. That March, the New York Post ran an exposé based on their testimony. They didn’t experience anything other women hadn’t for thirty years by then, but in the 1960s those other inmates were overwhelmingly poor black and Hispanic women. Dworkin and Goldrosen were white, middle-class college coeds. As so often happens, that’s what it took to generate public outrage.

When Grace Paley herself was arrested at another war protest some months later, she was detained in the facility. Conditions had slightly improved in light of the outcry the Post had stirred up. Paley had been arrested before at antiwar protests, but it had always resulted in at worst overnight stays. This time a judge threw the book at her and gave her six days. “He thought I was old enough to know better,” she later wrote, “a forty-five year old woman, a mother and teacher. I ought to be too busy to waste time on causes I couldn’t possibly understand.” At least she could look out her cell window and watch her kids walking to school.

In October 1970, Angela Davis was arrested in the Howard Johnson Motor Lodge at Eighth Avenue and Fifty-First Street and taken to the House of D. It was not her first time in Greenwich Village. She was born in 1944 in Birmingham, Alabama, where her father was a car mechanic and her mother was a teacher and a civil rights activist. They lived in a black neighborhood called Dynamite Hill because the Klan had firebombed so many homes there. With help from the American Friends, she and her mother moved to New York, where her mother studied for her Masters at NYU while Angela attended Elisabeth Irwin High School in the Village. She went on to study philosophy at Brandeis, the Sorbonne, and at the University of California, earning her Ph.D. One of her teachers was Herbert Marcuse. By the late 1960s she was an avowed Communist, a member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and affiliated with the Black Panthers. She lectured in philosophy at UCLA until 1969, when her Communist and radical affiliations got her fired.

In August of 1970 a black teen named Jonathan Jackson took over a Marin County courtroom and demanded the release of his older brother, Panther member George Jackson, from nearby Soledad prison. He took the judge, the district attorney and three jurors hostage. In the attempted getaway, Jackson, the judge and one other person were shot and killed. When police discovered that Davis, who knew George Jackson, was the registered owner of Jonathan’s weapon, she was charged as an accomplice to murder, a capital crime in California. She fled the state, which put her on the FBI’s most wanted list. A beautiful twenty-six-year-old with a huge and magnificent Afro, she became a global pop star of the revolution a la Che Guevara. When the FBI arrested her she’d spent a few days walking openly in Times Square, unrecognized because she’d slicked down the Afro and dressed like an office worker.

Within thirty minutes of her being locked up in the House of D a crowd of protesters began to gather outside the monolith, chanting; prisoners stood in their windows and chanted along, their fists raised. The NYPD sent a Tactical Defense Force unit – riot police – and House of D officials turned off all the lights inside, hoping to quiet things down. Instead, women set small fires in their cells, and demonstrators cheered the flickerings in the windows. They dispersed without major incident. Placed in isolation, Davis went on a ten-day hunger strike. She spent nine weeks in the facility while fighting extradition to California, where, she was quite convinced, she’d be convicted and put to death. In fact she would be acquitted of all charges in a San Francisco courtroom in 1972, after spending eighteen months behind bars.

Davis was the facility’s last celebrity tenant. Through the 1950s and 1960s, Greenwich Village civic and neighborhood groups had constantly called for the facility to be removed to some location more appropriate, which is to say far away from where they lived and walked their children to school. More liberal souls in the neighborhood thought it should stay, fearing that if the women were shifted to some more isolated location they might be all the more easily mistreated. Before he wrote the hit Broadway musicals Hello, Dolly! and La Cage aux Folles, Villager Jerry Herman wrote a satirical revue called Parade, which included a song about the House of D controversy:

Don’t tear down the House of Detention

Keep her and shield her from all who wish her harm

Don’t tear down the House of Detention

Cornerstone of Greenwich Village charm…

So I say fie, fie to the cynic

Know that there’s love in these hallowed walls of brown

There’s love in the laundry, there’s love in the showers,

There’s love in the clinic

'Twas built with love, my lovely house in town

Save the tramp, the pusher and the souse

Would you trade love for an apartment house?

Dworkin and Goldrosen’s testimony before a commission studying conditions at the House of D helped lead to its being shut down in 1971. Inmates were moved to a new facility on Rikers Island. After some debate about possible new uses for the Village monolith, it was simply torn down in 1973. The site is now a small, fenced-in garden. In 1974 Tom Eyen’s spoofy play Women Behind Bars, set in the House of D in the 1950s, premiered. John Waters’ star Divine performed in a later production.

by John Strausbaugh

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter II: Antiquum Fabulum, The Old Story

Previous Chapter (I: Primi Foederis)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angst, drama, comedy 

Category: Short Novel/ Long Series

“you’re the reason why I will never know who to trust anymore.”

~~~~~~ 10 YEARS AGO ~~~~~~

one of your legs were perched atop the seat your butt was planted on, and the students trudging past couldn’t help but steal little glances at you. if your parents were out here right now, they’d be pulling your right knee away from your chest, telling you to ‘sit properly’. 

just because you were wearing a skirt doesn’t mean you had to sit like you were at some formal event; your defense was always the extra layer of shorts you wore underneath. 

but your parents weren’t next to you, and if there wasn’t a camera mounted into the wall right opposite you, you would’ve ran your fingers into lee hyunjae’s eyes by now.

he was sitting in the same row as you with one empty seat in the middle, his hair was in a mess and he was busy redoing his tie.

yeah, the one you yanked loose. 

the clean, ash-brown locks of your mother’s hair were bobbing up and down that particular grill of the window that was blocking your view of her face, but your father. who was easily a head taller than her, had a look of almost... astonishment, while the principal filled them in with the details. 

lee hyunjae’s mother was in there somewhere too, but thanks to the useless posters that the principal had plastered to the window facing outwards, it saved you the pain of seeing her. 

but you couldn’t stop a smug scoff from exiting your nostrils when you looked yourself in the mirror, completely unscathed while lee hyunjae looked like he just got out of a dog fight. if you were a boy, there would be absolutely nothing to stop him from getting into a brawl with you.  

though you did hurl some of lee hyunjae’s stationery out the classroom window and yanked on his tie and pulled his hair, it’s not like he didn’t break your water bottle and scribbled all over your worksheets which you spent so much time on. 

the funny thing about this whole sticky situation the both of you were in, was that you were sure that nothing was going to happen to you. 

or lee hyunjae for that matter.

not only were the two of you the top students in the class, both your parents were working jobs of elite professions. it was the ugly reality that helped you realise how much of a sucker the school was for parents who were doctors and lawyers or rich people. 

you came from a long line of medical practitioners, and as far as you were aware, lee hyunjae’s father owned some insurance company and his mother had the luxury of sitting around at home.

the commotion in the room dies down, and you notice the oily, greasy hair of your principal float towards the door. it swings open, and you hear all three parents apologise to the principal. 

the look of tolerance and patience the principal had on his face disgusted you, because you knew that if it were any other student besides you or the one you just tried to kill, he would’ve immediately sent them to detention or gave them a suspension notice.

long story short, you were well aware that you were safe from any punishment only because your parents were important beneficiaries to the school.

his mother looks at you with a mixture of confusion and apology; she’d be pissed with her son for destroying your work, but you did inflict some kind of physical pain on her little, baby boy. 

“y/n,” the stern, but familiar voice calls out to you, and your leg immediately drops to the floor, hands patting down your skirt as you got off the seat. “apologise to him.”

without needing a mirror or a reflection for you to see your own facial expression, you already knew that your face was contorted with extreme dissatisfaction and pure pettiness. 

all you could think of was how grateful your parents should be that their slightly rebellious thirteen-year-old hasn’t killed this son of a--

“apologise, y/n.”

his mother gives lee hyunjae a little push as well, face printed with a small frown as she nods her apologetic head to your parents.

the hell are they apologising to each other for?

“i’m sorry i broke your bottle and drew on your worksheets.”

if your body could produce steam and heat and have it pushed out through all the holes in your head and face, you would’ve looked like the polar express. there was a disgustingly fake look of remorse on lee hyunjae’s face, and you would’ve retched right there and then just to tell him it took one fakeass to know another.

but not with your parents around you couldn’t.

“hyunjae’s already apologised, don’t you think you should too?” 

your father chimes in, and he looks at you with soft eyes you knew you couldn’t resist. he was the parent who always came to rescue you from the scary one after all. 

angrily shoving your two rows of teeth against each other and avoiding eye contact with lee hyunjae, you let the words roll off your tongue with complete zero weight of sincerity. 

your mother opens her mouth to protest against your lack of respect, but your father holds her back from aggravating the situation.  

from that day on, you and lee hyunjae were nicknamed ‘ares and ares’; two of the same kind who will never get along.

initially, you thought ‘athena and ares’ would’ve been a more suitable nickname, but athena was loved and ares was hated. 

despite you knowing for yourself that you would’ve totally claimed the ‘athena’ role, it was nauseatingly difficult to pretend that lee hyunjae didn’t constantly have love letters hidden under his desk before school started. 

though the name bestowed upon you, by literally tens and you dare say, hundreds of students in your school, was pretty cool, the idea of being placed into the same phrase and being associated with him in any little way was adequate to make you wish you were born in another era. 

you spend the next four years of school living up to the name of ‘ares and ares’. every year, lee hyunjae found a way to piss you off, and it started becoming an effortless game of ping pong. 

if he pissed you off, then there was no way you were going to let him go without pissing him off. 

by the time the both of you were seniors, students who you didn’t even know existed were betting on who would emerge as the top student after national exams.

it wouldn’t be an underestimation to say that the school population was just treating the two of you as a source of entertainment when your scores for the national exam were tied. 

the fight you had with your mother over which school to apply to after your primary school national exams was astronomical.

while you were genuinely losing brain cells worrying about a game you were playing in your own head, your mother had completely no idea how much you didn’t want to be in the same school as lucifer. 

all you could think of was: 

what if he’s thinking the same thing as you and applies to the second best school in the area?

what if the both of you got into the second best school because the two of you had the same mindset?

even if you applied to the top school, thinking that he’d apply to the second best school, he might still end up in the top school with y--

“y/n! does it really matter if you’re in the same school as him? isn’t the most important thing yourself?” your mother preaches while she runs through her patient files. the same type of files that’s kept both her and your father away from you for so long. 

sometimes you wish they weren’t doctors so they could be more aware of your life, and in this case, more aware of the hatred you harboured against lee hyunjae.

“and i’m doing this important thing for myself so that i don’t end up in the same school as him,” you snap back without thinking much, your fingers dragging across the keys on the laptop.

apparently your tone was “too rude” for your mother to tolerate, and it took her two weeks to talk to you again. 

frustrating, but you couldn’t be bothered less, and it was honestly pretty funny. 

but that fun didn’t last for long. 

~~~~~~ 6 YEARS AGO ~~~~~~

“you have to be shitting me.”

not only was he your classmate, he was taking the exact same combination of subjects as you, which meant you’d be seeing him in every class, every day, for the next two years before you graduate and go to university. 

all that mind-fuckey reverse psychology i was worried about when applying for school did absolutely nothing. 

you would’ve tried to outdo the look of disgust and agony that was cemented into lee hyunjae’s face every time he saw you, but that would’ve just been too petty and you decided it wasn’t worth your time. 

after awhile, and by awhile you mean nearly a year, your mind started to wander off ares and your attention begun to gravitate to other men worth your time and attention. 

lucky for you -- though you couldn’t care less -- so did hyunjae. 

so why did he decide that messing with your experiment equipment was such a great idea? you may never know. 

you were settled with the idea that he was just a sore loser merged with ares’ desire to win.

the rage and fury that you tried with the strength of every single cell in your body to contain it was not enough. not when your chemicals began blowing up and spitting itself all over your workspace during a graded test. 

you knew exactly who would’ve done this. 

you remember pulling lee hyunjae off his own girlfriend in the hallways of the school right after the test, and his collar gets crumpled in your fists as you shove him against the lockers. 

his girlfriend was such a wuss, she didn’t move a muscle when she saw the way you violently locked him against the metal doors. 

students pulled out cellphones and started to crowd around, watching you seethe anger and drill almost murderous glares into lee hyunjae’s face. 

the beauty of being surrounded by a bunch of 17-year-olds who were thirsty for drama was that nobody would’ve been dumb enough to run off and looked for a teacher, and you didn’t need to worry about getting into trouble. 

not when the school had ‘so much trust in their elite students’.

“you’re a fucking asshole, you know that? did you do it only because you didn’t want me to beat you?” by investing all your body weight into pressing his neck against the lockers behind him, he would require more than a comfortable amount of energy to remove you off him. “how big of a pussy do you have to be to tamper with my shit just so you can secure your own grades?”

the veins on your hands were on the verge of bursting through your skin, and you could feel your face reddening with dangerous amounts of wrath and resentment. 

lee hyunjae’s chin was tilted upwards, giving himself enough space to breathe with your knuckles digging into the skin of his neck, and a vein exposes itself on his forehead where his temples were tightened.

he breaks out into an arrogant sound, and his words leave his lips like little stabs in the chest. 

“you have no proof that i did it, do you? what makes you think that confronting me like this is going to do any good?” 

you suck in a deep breath so hard, your chest began to ache. the grip on the collar of his shirt tightens, and the anger fuels you with enough energy to pull him away from the lockers and slam him back against it, the impact of his body against the hardness echoing throughout the halls. 

“you want to talk proof?” the strained grit between your jaws were replaced with a smirk. 

lee hyunjae reads you easily, not that you were trying to hide it, and you could see a small pang of fear start to glimmer in his eyes.

“i’ll show you proof.”

releasing him and pulling your phone out your pocket, and find that one special picture you had of him in your gallery, and you hand it to his girlfriend without saying a word. 

your eyes dig into his as he starts to pick up on the situation, and you soon start to hear his whiny, pathetic girlfriend start to weep and sob. 

you take a step back and pull the phone out from her grip as he rushes to her and begins defending himself. the overwhelming sensation of satisfaction pulls your lips further up your cheeks into a wide smile, and you were nearly on the verge of bursting into loud, maniacal laughter when his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, shoves him off her and runs away in the opposite direction.

the crowd no longer had their phones in the air because it took you to cause a break up for them to decide that the situation has become private. now, everybody was shooting harsh, disapproving glances at lee hyunjae for not only tampering with your experiment equipment, but being caught cheating on his own girlfriend. 

your chin tilts upwards, arrogance spilling out every single pore on your skin and pooling around your feet in complete content. lee hyunjae calls out for his girlfriend, but the silence tells you that you’ve won this round. 

“you--” he grabs your arm and nearly throws you into the lockers, but you lock your feet into the ground, and his rough, hard pants hit your cheek, not doing much besides add on to your ego. “you are the reason why i will never know who to trust anymore.”

a loud scoff hits the ceiling from your throat, and backing down wasn’t an option for you. not when you’re an ares, to his ares.

“you should keep your own credibility in check first before you talk about trust.”

lee hyunjae grits his teeth so hard, his glare was somehow becoming coated with a layer of wetness. he shoves you off, turning on his heels and storming off with clenched fists. 

but where ares triumphs, ares will always be humiliated, or so the myths and the greek legends describe his downfall.

it doesn’t take you long to notice all the looks of disgust students were shooting you as you strode towards your boyfriend in the classroom. after the whole showdown with lee hyunjae about your graded test -- that you failed -- it was safe to say that the both of you shot yourself to fame in the new school. 

“do i want to know what happened now? why’s everybody looking at me like they want to kill me?” you drop your bag next to younghoon and look at his strained facial features, staring at his phone screen blankly. 

you rest your chin on his shoulder and scan the contents of the page, only to have it ignite a fire of bitterness and malice in your chest.

“wait--” you snatch the phone out of his grasp, and a fear of losing him washes over you like darkness swallows a dying soul. “you don’t believe this shit, do you?”

younghoon looks at you with sad eyes, eyes that you never wanted to see, eyes that you would never want to be the reason of. 

the tweet was blowing up with comments by students from your school, and there was a picture of your lab teacher kissing someone who looked like you. 

‘no wonder her grades are so good’

‘should’ve known she’s not that great compared to lee hyunjae’

‘and she told him to check his credibility? what a fucker’

the entire world around you crashes down on you violently despite the deafening silence of the classroom. 

like the way athena bested her brother in war and drove a guided spear through his ribs, lee hyunjae had bested you by taking away the first boy you’ve ever loved. 

what was the fire started by and what was fueling it? ares was the god of war, and he was just as brutal as he was cruel; it was the world’s most accurate label to paste on both of you. 

had the two of you been placed into a ring of fire and you had to fight to your death to win, there was something about the way lee hyunjae never backing down that reminded you of you; that he would fight till the end. 

was the fire ignited because you didn’t want to lose to him? did you see nothing but blood and black when it came to him? 

graduating and deciding to pursue medicine outside the country was a surefire way to avoid the ares to your ares, and for about four years, that was the case. choosing prestigious schools located in the same country nearly threw you off the ball, but the relief in you when you realised the schools were 66 miles away from each other tasted like sugar on your tongue. 

you wonder if it was just a plain coincidence for the number 6 to appear when it came to lee hyunjae, the lucifer in your underworld. 

so for four years you lived your life the way you wanted to. without anybody to sabotage you or ruin your chances at becoming the doctor you were meant to be. you had all that there was, and you started to believe in a life where you weren’t tormented by the last person you’d want to be. 

but it just so happened that athena never killed ares, for ares is a deathless god. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter III: Aemulatio

[newstfionline]

Saturday, July 31, 2021

Biden to allow eviction moratorium to expire Saturday (AP) The Biden administration announced Thursday it will allow a nationwide ban on evictions to expire Saturday, arguing that its hands are tied after the Supreme Court signaled the moratorium would only be extended until the end of the month. The White House said President Joe Biden would have liked to extend the federal eviction moratorium due to spread of the highly contagious delta variant of the coronavirus. Instead, Biden called on “Congress to extend the eviction moratorium to protect such vulnerable renters and their families without delay.” By the end of March, 6.4 million American households were behind on their rent, according to the Department of Housing and Urban Development. As of July 5, roughly 3.6 million people in the U.S. said they faced eviction in the next two months, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s Household Pulse Survey.

Evacuation flight brings 200 Afghans to US (AP) The first flight evacuating Afghans who worked alongside Americans in Afghanistan brought more than 200 people, including scores of children and babies in arms, to resettlement in the United States on Friday, and President Joe Biden welcomed them home. The evacuation flights, bringing out former interpreters and others who fear retaliation from Afghanistan’s Taliban for having worked with American service members and civilians, highlight American uncertainty about how Afghanistan’s government and military will fare after the last U.S. combat forces leave that country in the coming weeks. Family members are accompanying the interpreters, translators and others on the flights out. The commercial airliner carrying the 221 Afghans in the special visa program, including 57 children and 15 babies, according to an internal U.S. government document obtained by The Associated Press, touched down in Dulles, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C.

Not in control (NYT) Consider these Covid-19 mysteries: In India—where the Delta variant was first identified and caused a huge outbreak—cases have plunged over the past two months. A similar drop may now be underway in Britain. There is no clear explanation for these declines. / In the U.S., cases started falling rapidly in early January. The decline began before vaccination was widespread and did not follow any evident changes in Americans’ Covid attitudes. / In March and April, the Alpha variant helped cause a sharp rise in cases in the upper Midwest and Canada. That outbreak seemed poised to spread to the rest of North America—but did not. / This spring, caseloads were not consistently higher in parts of the U.S. that had relaxed masking and social distancing measures (like Florida and Texas) than in regions that remained vigilant. / Large parts of Africa and Asia still have not experienced outbreaks as big as those in Europe, North America and South America. / How do we solve these mysteries? Michael Osterholm, who runs an infectious disease research center at the University of Minnesota, suggests that people keep in mind one overriding idea: humility. “We’ve ascribed far too much human authority over the virus,” he told me.

Diasporas at the Olympics (Foreign Policy) Cuban athletes at the Tokyo Olympics are evidence of the exodus from the island over the years. By the Cuban sports journalist Francys Romero’s count, more than 20 athletes at the Olympics were born in Cuba but became naturalized in and are now playing for other countries. That’s a group almost one-third the size of Cuba’s own delegation.

Peru’s politics (Foreign Policy) Peru’s new President Pedro Castillo chose Guido Bellido, a congressman and fellow member of his Marxist Free Peru party, as his prime minister as part of a cabinet announcement on Thursday, setting up a tense confirmation battle with the country’s opposition-led Congress. Bellido courted controversy in a local media interview in April when he expressed sympathy for members of Shining Path—a Maoist guerilla group who fought a bloody insurgency during the 1980s and 1990s.

Death toll in Turkish wildfires rises to four, blazes rage on (Reuters) The death toll from wildfires on Turkey’s southern coast has risen to four and firefighters were battling blazes for a third day on Friday after the evacuation of dozens of villages and some hotels. More than 60 wildfires have broken out across 17 provinces on Turkey’s Aegean and Mediterranean coasts this week, officials have said. Villages and some hotels have been evacuated in areas popular with tourists, and TV footage had shown people fleeing across fields as they watched fires close in on their homes.

Three Jehovah’s Witnesses sentenced to six or more years in Russian prison for their faith (RNS) Three Jehovah’s Witnesses in Russia were convicted and sentenced to prison for practicing their faith on Thursday (July 29). Vilen Avanesov, 68, was sentenced to six years, and his son Arsen Avanesov, 37, along with a third defendant, Aleksandr Parkov, 53, were both sentenced to six-and-a-half years. All three men have already spent more than two years in pretrial detention. “These men should never, ever have had to spend a minute in prison, and yet they’ve been locked up for two years,” said Rachel Denber, deputy director of Human Rights Watch’s Europe and Central Asia division. The three Jehovah’s Witnesses were detained in Rostov-on-Don in May 2019 and accused of continuing the operations of a Jehovah’s Witness organization that had been liquidated. All three were charged with organizing extremist activities. In January 2020, Arsen Avanesov was also accused of “financing extremist activities” by collecting donations to rent a room to meet with other Jehovah’s Witnesses. Near the trial’s conclusion, Arsen Avanesov spoke of his devotion to God: “I dedicated my life to him and did it sincerely. … I don’t want, I can’t and will not give up my promise.” The sentences for the three men are considered particularly harsh in a country where rape is punishable by three years in prison and kidnapping by five. The sentencing follows a 2017 ruling that categorizes the religious group as “extremist.”

Myanmar leaders ‘weaponizing’ COVID-19, residents say (AP) With coronavirus deaths rising in Myanmar, allegations are growing from residents and human rights activists that the military government, which seized control in February, is using the pandemic to consolidate power and crush opposition. Supplies of medical oxygen are running low, and the government has restricted its private sale in many places, saying it is trying to prevent hoarding. But that has led to widespread allegations that the stocks are being directed to government supporters and military-run hospitals. At the same time, medical workers have been targeted after spearheading a civil disobedience movement that urged professionals and civil servants not to cooperate with the government, known as the State Administrative Council. “They have stopped distributing personal protection equipment and masks, and they will not let civilians who they suspect are supporting the democracy movement be treated in hospitals, and they’re arresting doctors who support the civil disobedience movement,” said Yanghee Lee, the U.N.’s former Myanmar human rights expert and a founding member of the Special Advisory Council for Myanmar. “With the oxygen, they have banned sales to civilians or people who are not supported by the SAC, so they’re using something that can save the people against the people,” she said. “The military is weaponizing COVID.”

North Korea began the summer in a food crisis. A heat wave and drought could make it worse. (Washington Post) At the beginning of the summer, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un described the country’s food situation as “tense” after border closures caused by the coronavirus pandemic and crippling floods. By midsummer, a cycle of grinding heat and record-low rainfall could be a sign of a greater food crisis and hunger ahead. Temperatures in North Korea have climbed as high as 102 degrees in some areas this week—a shock in a country where temperatures do not often break 100 degrees. The heat wave has been compounded by a growing drought. North Korea had gotten 21.2 millimeters, or less than an inch, of rain as of mid-July. It is so hot that state media reports have been repeatedly warning residents about the dangers of dehydration and low sodium levels, especially for the elderly and those at risk of heart disease or stroke. They are urging residents to stay out of the sun, eat more fruits and vegetables, and drink more than two liters (about two quarts) of water per day, according to NK News, which monitors North Korea’s state media.

Hong Kong protester given 9-year term in 1st security case (AP) A pro-democracy protester was sentenced Friday to nine years in prison in the closely watched first prosecution under Hong Kong’s national security law as the ruling Communist Party tightens control over the territory. Tong Ying-kit, 24, was convicted of inciting secession and terrorism for driving his motorcycle into a group of police officers at a July 1, 2020, rally. He carried a flag bearing the banned slogan, “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times.” Tong’s sentence was longer than the three years requested by the prosecution. He faced a possible maximum of life in prison. Tong’s sentence is a “hammer blow to free speech” and shows the law is “a tool to instill terror” in government critics, Amnesty International’s Asia-Pacific regional director, Yamini Mishra, said in a statement. The law “lacks any exemption for legitimate expression or protest,” Mishra said. “The judgment at no point considered Tong’s rights to freedom of expression and protest.” Defense lawyers said Tong’s penalty should be light because the court hadn’t found the attack was deliberate, no one was injured, and the secession-related offense qualified as minor under the law.

New Zealand rated best place to survive global societal collapse (Guardian) New Zealand, Iceland, the UK, Tasmania and Ireland are the places best suited to survive a global collapse of society, according to a study. The researchers said human civilisation was “in a perilous state” due to the highly interconnected and energy-intensive society that had developed and the environmental damage this had caused. A collapse could arise from shocks, such as a severe financial crisis, the impacts of the climate crisis, destruction of nature, an even worse pandemic than Covid-19 or a combination of these, the scientists said. To assess which nations would be most resilient to such a collapse, countries were ranked according to their ability to grow food for their population, protect their borders from unwanted mass migration, and maintain an electrical grid and some manufacturing ability. Islands in temperate regions and mostly with low population densities came out on top.

Ethiopian roadblock (NYT) Aid workers in Ethiopia claim that an unofficial Ethiopian government blockade has cut off the only road into the conflict-torn region where millions of Ethiopians face the threat of mass starvation. A relief convoy headed for Tigray came under fire on the road on July 18, forcing it to turn around. On Tuesday, the World Food Program said 170 trucks loaded with relief aid were stranded in Semera, the capital of the neighboring Afar region, waiting for Ethiopian permission to make the trek into Tigray. The blockade is intensifying what some call the world’s worst humanitarian crisis in a decade. The crisis comes during an intensifying war, which has deepened ethnic tensions and stoked fears that Ethiopia will collapse. The United Nations estimates that 400,000 people there are living in famine-like conditions, and another 4.8 million need urgent help. The Ethiopian prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, who won the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize, said last week that his government was providing “unfettered humanitarian access” and committed to “the safe delivery of critical supplies to its people in the Tigray region.” However, Mr. Abiy’s ministers have publicly accused aid workers of helping and even arming the Tigrayan fighters, leading to aid workers being attacked at airports, and even killed.

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[richincolor]

Interview with Dr. Yusef Salaam & Ibi Zoboi

From the publisher: Dr. Yusef Salaam, a member of “The Exonerated Five” (formerly known as “The Central Park Five”) and Ibi Zoboi, author of Pride and the National Book Award finalist American Street, have collaborated on a young adult novel, Punching the Air.

Punching the Air follows Amal Shahid, a teenager who has always been an artist and a poet. But even in a diverse art school, he’s seen as disruptive and unmotivated by a biased system. Then, one fateful night, an altercation in a gentrifying neighborhood escalates into tragedy. “Boys just being boys” turns out to be true only when those boys are white. Suddenly, at just sixteen years old, Amal’s bright future is upended: he is convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to prison. Despair and rage almost sink him until he turns to the refuge of his words: his art.

This novel in verse is simply stunning. The poetry is powerful and the story itself is heartbreaking and yet still hopeful. Amal's story definitely points out some of the major issues with the criminal justice system. It also shows how the education system can also be harmful to young people of color. As a teacher, that was a hard aspect to read about. Amal's teachers and even his lawyer fail to see his humanity.

All of the Rich in Color contributors are reading Punching the Air right now for our discussion that will be posted on October 7th so be sure to stop back by to participate or read more about the book. In preparation for our discussion, we're happy to hear from the authors today.

Crystal: The verse format was a brilliant choice for Amal's story. Was there anything unexpected about writing a novel in verse?

Ibi: I loved how ideas just came to me as I was working through a poem. I’d start a poem as a couplet and then I’d realize that I can shape it into a box or a pyramid. Making shapes out of poems is like collaging or putting puzzle pieces together. The words not only have to fit into the shape, but they have the right metaphor and convey the right mood. It really is art on every level.

Crystal: Do you think we will see more poetry from you?

Ibi: Absolutely. All my novels have had some form of poetry.

Crystal: Yusef, when did you begin to write poetry and what has that writing journey been like?

Yusef: I started writing and paying attention to words when I was very young. Hip-hop had a huge impact on me and I wanted to mimic what some rappers were saying in their lyrics--the ones with message-driven content. Like many other boys growing up in my environment, we wanted the world to hear our words. Hip-hop was one way to get our messages across. I kept writing while incarcerated and it’s what kept my mind free.

Crystal: Ibi, you've been writing for young adults for quite some time. Do you feel any specific responsibilities to young readers?

Ibi: Yes, always. I always feel the need to create whole, fully-realized characters. I always return to Adichie’s quote about stereotypes. It’s not that they are untrue, it’s that they are incomplete. I try my best to create complete characters and stores. Yes, Black children are criminalized, but why? I always strive to paint a bigger picture.

Crystal: What were some of the challenges and benefits of co-writing a novel?

Ibi: There were all benefits. I could’ve tried to write this book alone, but I had someone to help guide the emotions of our teen character. Amal would’ve been a very different boy born of my own limited imagination. With Yusef’s help, we created a fully rounded character with every real hopes and fears. I was able to sink into his skin because of my conversations with Yusef.

Yusef: It was a great experience. It’s amazing how someone I met at a time when I was hiding in plain sight, two years after prison, when the world thought wanted to bury us, wanted to help me tell my story. Back then, I wasn’t ready to share everything. But now, Ibi brought her skills to table and we were able to tell this story--Punching the Air--together.

Ibi Zoboi was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, and holds an MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her writing has been published in the New York Times Book Review, the Horn Book magazine, and the Rumpus, among others. Her novel American Street was a National Book Award finalist, received five starred reviews, and was a New York Times Notable Book. She is also the author of Pride and My Life as an Ice Cream Sandwich, which was a New York Times bestseller, as well as being the editor of the anthology Black Enough. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and their three children. You can find her online at www.ibizoboi.net.

In 1989, Dr. Yusef Salaam was just fifteen years old when he was tried and convicted in the “Central Park Jogger Case” along with four other Black and Latino boys. The Exonerated Five spent between seven to 13 years behind bars, until their sentences were overturned in 2002. Since then, they received a multimillion dollar settlement from the City of New York for its injustice and were profiled in award-winning films, including The Central Park Five documentary from Ken Burns, Sarah Burns, and David McMahon and the award-winning Netflix limited series When They See Us, written and directed by Ava DuVernay.

Over the past two decades, Yusef has become a family man, father, poet, activist, and inspirational speaker. He continues to share his story with others to educate the public about the impact of mass incarceration and police brutality. He regularly advocates for criminal justice reform, prison reform, and the abolition of juvenile solitary confinement and capital punishment. Yusef is the recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Award from President Barack Obama (2016), the Phoenix Award from the Congressional Black Caucus (2019), an honorary Doctorate of Humanities from Anointed by God Ministries Alliance & Seminary (2014), and a long list of Proclamations—most notably from New York State Senate (2018), and New York City Council (2013).

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you to all who have left kudos/comments/reviews and even have taken the time to read this story thus far! I'm having loads of fun writing this one and I'm hoping you are enjoying it too! Okay, enough of my blabber, here's the next chapter!

                                    Chapter Three

Gemellology. The scientific study of twins. One child out of every thirty two children born was a twin. In the United Kingdom alone, one in out of sixty five babies born were some number of multiples. And one, twin pregnancy, out of the billions of people in the world was the result of a paternal vampire. Singular. Unique. No one else on the planet would be like them. The statistics, though not publicly published, were there. Zoe had never felt so overwhelmed in her life.

"Because of your age, health complications, and the fact you are carrying twins, you're considered high risk," Dr. Clyde explained, Zoe sitting rather motionless as the doctor began to scribble instructions onto a pad.

"Is there something we should be concerned about?" Dracula inquired, his attention focused on the doctor. "Perhaps momentarily taking leave from her job?" Zoe didn't have to look over to know that the vampire was fighting a smirk.

"It's nothing you need stress about at this point," the doctor assured, smiling at Dr. Van Helsing. "We'll just have to schedule more routine visits and run some tests if need be. Monitoring you and making sure everything is going well with you and your babies is the important thing. Here," he held out a piece of paper that she hesitantly took. "Just some recommended prenatal vitamins, folate and iron supplements, the works."

"Iron, an important component of blood," Agatha commented. "Perhaps you consider increasing your dosage of that based on your fetuses' needs."

"Over the counter?" Zoe asked, ignoring the other two in the room. "Pharmacy?"

"Yes, whichever location is convenient to you," Dr. Clyde replied. "Generic or name brand doesn't matter. It is important to stay on them though, we strive for healthy babies." He reached out for Zoe's hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Van Helsing. They can schedule your next appointment up front. And congratulations again," he grinned at Dracula. "To the both of you."

"Thank you," the vampire answered. "This was quite the surprise for both of us. But I welcome this new chapter in our lives, isn't that right, darling?"

"Callous beast," Agatha frowned at Zoe's side. "This is why you never let your guard down with a vampire. Have you learned nothing?"

"Thank you, Dr. Clyde," the doctor exhaled, pushing herself out of the cot. "I'll see you soon I suppose."

Zoe did her best to ignore Dracula the moment she stepped back into the waiting room. She could sense him looming over her shoulder as she set up her next appointment. Blocking his view or not, she knew the man would find a way to attend. He was dreadfully good in that department. Still in shock over the whole experience, she made her way to the elevator.

"So twins," the vampire said, breaking the silence. "I cannot say that I was exactly expecting that. And both with beating hearts. How peculiar."

"I'd rather not discuss parenthood, especially with you," Zoe grumbled, pressing the down key. "You changing my appointment was inappropriate, even for you. Do you realize how late it is? I have to get up early for work tomorrow and-" The doctor was abruptly caught off when she felt a firm, cold grip on her shoulder.

"The Harker Foundation?" Dracula's amused expression had now darkened. "So you are really hellbent on going back there? After this?!" He motioned at her still flat abdomen. "That place. You know what it is. The purpose. What they are." The count touched her stomach, Zoe immediately swatted his hand away. "Do you know what they'd do to you if they found out? To them?"

"What I do isn't any of your concern," the doctor frowned deeply. "I hold high regards towards my job. Even with you gone, we've made progress."

"Then your intent is to experiment on them?" Dracula growled, Zoe beginning to feel slightly fearful. "And to think I was the one who was believed to be heartless-"

"I have absolutely no intentions to do anything of the sort you're accusing me of," she finally spat back. "Nor do I intend on informing people what I'm carrying. But I will say this, if I am truly hellbent on anything at this point, is keeping you out of my life." The elevator door opened but neither of them made a move to enter. "When you chose to leave the walls of the Foundation-"

"My prison," he corrected.

"...The institution, you made the choice to become not involved," it was an argument that didn't make much sense, but she needed something to go off on. "So now, like the Foundation, I'm choosing to be not involved with you. Not that our relationship was anything but distant acquaintances."

Dracula fell silent for a moment before letting out a low chuckle. "Are you trying to punish me, Zoe?" He asked, clearly amused. "Because if that is your goal, you are failing to achieve it."

"Leave," Agatha urged. "This is just going to keep going around in circles and despite being dead, it's giving me a headache."

"I'm done," the doctor said, finally walking into the elevator. "And if you had a shred of humanity left in you, you'd leave me be."

The vampire's mouth opened up to say something, but Zoe had already jammed the close button so hard the doors slid shut. She sighed, leaning against the wall as the speakers hummed a soft tune.

"Good girl," Agatha smiled. "Checkmate."

"The same goes for you," Zoe muttered, glaring at Agatha. "You're just as a thorn in my side as he is. Please...just give me peace."

The nun gave her a curious look before disappearing out of sight. How Zoe had kept from losing it, she wasn't sure. As the elevator doors opened and she stepped into the night, she began to question it all. Twins. Motherhood. Dracula. Her ghost of an aunt. Her eyes flickered down to the crumpled up piece of paper in her hands. The list of instructions the doctor gave her. Everything really was turning upside down.

                                         Two Months Later

Dracula seemed to heed her words from that night. Weeks had passed and Zoe had yet to see the vampire. Even at her appointments, she wasn't greeted to the unwelcome sight of the man. Agatha too had kept her distance, the doctor only seeing flickers of the woman occasional around her house. Life was turning out to be pretty alright-excluding the fact of the ever growing list of pregnancy symptoms she was starting to experience.

"That's your third bagel."

Zoe peered down at her plate, noting that she had indeed consumed yet another circular dough ball smothered with cream cheese. Her attention turned back to her former graduate student, Jack Seward, who'd joined her for lunch that day. He proved to be nice company, someone she could always count on.

"I'm hungry," she admitted. "A side effect of pregnancy."

"And you're still not going to tell me who the father is?" He inquired, smiling as Zoe went for another bite of her bagel. "I thought you never wanted kids."

"I didn't," she admitted. "But when I went into remission, something changed within me. I can't describe it. So I decided to try out in vitro fertilization," Zoe smirked. "Took the first time and now I'm having twins. You and I both know science is fascinating."

She gently placed a hand on her stomach that had already begun to swell. She had yet to feel anything other than bloating. But it was almost comforting. Knowing that she wasn't alone-well, besides Agatha's unwanted haunting. Everything had been running so smoothly, Zoe would almost forget at times that the twins weren't fully human.

"So the Foundation is still keeping tabs on Dracula," Jack said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You of all people must regret not having him around to study him."

Zoe nearly choked on her next bite. Coughing, she grabbed her glass of water and swallowed a few large gulps. Concern crossed the younger man's face, but the doctor waved away, nodding that she was fine.

"His whereabouts aren't a concern of mine," she inhaled. "His activity is being monitored and with that horrible lawyer of his, not much can be done."

"Has he tried to contact you?

"No," she replied. "Not recently."

"Recently?" Jack inquired, looking a little worried. "So he's tried in the past?"

This was the last subject she wanted to discuss. Thinking of a way out of it, she scrunched her face in displeasure. Placing her hands on her stomach, she tried to appear sick. Convincing.

"I'm feeling rather ill," Zoe lied, rising from the table. "Morning sickness. I should go home. I'll text you later. Thank you for lunch. It was great seeing you, Jack."

"But, I…"

Zoe had already hurried off towards her car before he could finish. Unlocking it, she threw her purse into the passenger seat and slid in. Dracula. Of all the subjects to discuss. The idea really did turn her stomach. Pulling out of the cafe parking lot, she started to make her way home. Some tea. Perhaps a movie. She needed to clear her mind.

The first thing she did when she walked through the door was collapse on the couch. Even though she wasn't going through chemotherapy treatments anymore, she still experienced extreme exhaustion. Pregnancy. The wonder of it all. Placing a hand on her stomach, she exhaled. It was hard to believe two tiny-well, babies, were growing in there. Surreal even. Zoe allowed her eyes to close, taking a moment to rest before going about her day. Peace of mind. That was the least she could ask for as she found herself drifting off…

A loud, but rhythmic knock startled Zoe from her slumber. She sat up abruptly, cursing herself from nodding off. She looked over at the time and to her horror realized the afternoon had become the night. Inhaling, she walked over to the door, wondering who it could be at this hour. Had she forgotten something and Jack came to return it? Certainly it wasn't the landlord. She always paid the rent on time. As she opened the door, she immediately realized her mistake.

"Good evening," the man said. "I apologize for the unannounced visit, I would have called but it appears you blocked my number. May I come in? I think there is a lot of catching up to do," his eyes fell onto her stomach, mouth twitching into a smile. "A lot."

Count Dracula.

God, smite her down where she stood.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

DC:IRL Gotham Rogues Gallery

My original post: https://somethingusefulfromflorida.tumblr.com/post/190712516986/dcirl

There are no super powers, no magic technology or medicine, no cartoony gimmicks, just normal people going about their lives in the big city (well, not “normal,” per se).  In the real world there are no “super villains,” so in this universe these people are just mundane criminals with varying degrees of severity.  What would be the real world implications?  Nobody wears a mask.  Nobody plays a character.  What if their mental illnesses and motivations were grounded in reality rather than fantasy comic book land where “crazy people” commit crimes for fun?  What if Gotham was just New York, a regular city, not some dystopian hellscape?

John Doe: little is known about the so-called Joker Killer, this John Wayne Gacy wannabe who murdered 37 Gothamites in the last 10 years.  He’s like the Zodiac Killer, Son of Sam, the Unibomber, always leaving calling cards for the police, daring them to track him down.  Nobody knew if he was just one guy or if there was a group of people using the Joker alias as a scapegoat to throw the police off their trails.  When the culprit was finally caught, it was revealed that he’s a phantom, he didn’t have any government records, and to this day nobody is sure how he managed to cover his tracks so well.  He was found guilty, but legally insane, so was remanded to Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital.  He doesn’t play well with the other inmates. Or the doctors. Or the guards.  He doesn’t have henchmen, he doesn’t ransom world leaders, he’s just a serial killer with a theme, not a domestic terrorist with goals.

Oswald Cobblepot: a mobbed up ex-lawyer who runs a night club as a front for his criminal activities. He’s basically Roger Stone is Roger Stone was smart enough to avoid going to prison.  He’s a public figure in Gotham, and pretends to be a philanthropist to cover for the fact that he’s very clearly corrupt.  He owns multiple buildings with his name on them, he refuses to rent apartments to black people, he molests women and brags about it on tape, and has run (unsuccessfully) for mayor, governor, senate and president of the United States on multiple occasions.  Everyone knows he’s guilty of something, but the GCPD refuses to look into his finances because some of them are on his payroll.

Harvey Dent: Gotham District Attorney known for fighting corruption, he was nearly assassinated by the mob, horribly disfigured over 50 percent of his body.  He struggles with bipolar disorder, exacerbated by his incident, but continues to fight the good fight, all the while going through therapy.  There’s a 50-50 chance he’ll recover and return to the practice as an underdog or have a mental episode and become a Howard Hughes recluse.  As a public figure he has access to all the help he needs, he is privileged not to have to suffer in silence like so many other mentally ill people.

Eduardo Dorrance: he’s this universe’s version of Fidel Castro.  A left-wing extremist from a small Caribbean island, he killed his way to head of the communist party and overthrew the government in the Santa Prisca Revolution in the 1960s.  President Kennedy instated an embargo against the island, after which the Soviet Union attempted to store chemical weapons there, which Dorrance co-opted to be used against political dissidents and human rights workers.  He is nicknamed Bane by the western world, and is one of the last holdouts of the Cold War, though he is aged and in poor health now (there are conspiracy theories that he’s actually been dead for years), and has pawned off leadership responsibilities to his brother.

Pamela Isley: environmental activist, conservationist, speaks out against climate change and deforestation, wanted by Interpol because she killed a few of the billionaires responsible for the Amazon fires.  She’s labeled a terrorist by the US government, with conservatives going so far as to call her the female Osama bin Laden.  Whether or not she really is a terrorist is up for debate, but either way she’s nowhere near bin Laden, they just want the association to stick so nobody can defend her actions without defending bin Laden’s (”see, this is what happens when socialism and radical feminism are left unchecked,” they say).  She can’t control plants or hypnotize people, but she’s not just a hemp loving hippy, she’s a revolutionary who may or may not have worked with the Dorrance regime to promote anti-government movements throughout South and Central America.

Victor Fries: his wife Nora was diagnosed with early-onset McGreggor’s disease, a degenerative neurological disorder which is invariably fatal within 10 years.  He has dedicated his life to finding a cure, but has recently come under federal investigation when a whistle blower revealed that he has been performing unethical medical experiments to test his research.  Some media outlets campaign for him, others against him; he’s fighting for a good cause, but his results are invalid because the tests were performed under suspicious circumstances outside a controlled laboratory environment.  He is at risk of losing his medical license, and his funding is being slashed as he is under review.

Edward Nygma: a local nobody, he suffers from antisocial personality disorder and OCD.  When the Joker Killer rose to prominence, he was compelled to try and outdo him, inspired by his notes taunting Gotham police.  Also like the Zodiac Killer, Nygma has resorted to cryptograms and ciphers, trying to prove his intelligence and his ability to evade detection.  So far he has done a much better job than the joker, as he is still at large, with no known suspects.  He can’t not commit crimes, he is drawn to them, he can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries and he can’t afford medication to keep himself in check.  He secretly hopes he’ll get sloppy one day and the cops will be able to trace him, but his superiority complex prevents him from doing anything that would be personally disadvantageous.  He would benefit from therapy, should he ever find himself in Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital.  He’s resentful of men like Harvey Dent who he thinks can just make their problems go away with money (he doesn’t realize that Dent has just as many problems as he does and that mental illness can effect anyone regardless of status)

Selina Kyle: she lives in the slums outside the city proper, the sprawling crime ridden suburban cesspool that is Upstate Gotham.  She subsists as a petty thief, breaking and entering into super-rich apartment buildings and selling the goods to pay her bills.  She’s not a bad person, she’s just in a bad situation, born into poverty in a country with no class mobility.  She’s troubled, abused, and on the brink of homelessness at any given moment, she does what she needs to do to get by.  She’s not a maser jewel thief, she doesn’t break into museums or banks, her scores have much lower stakes than that.

Jonathan Crane: a doctor at Arkham State, he was arrested and tried for criminal misconduct.  He would regularly torture the patients, withholding basic necessities, making them live in filth, locking many of them up in solitary confinement for months on end to see how they would react.  He wanted to prove that his patented “isolation therapy” was the most effective treatment for any number of mental illnesses (in reality, he was just a sadist who had authority over people and wanted to show it).  He drove dozens of patients mad, making them question their own sanity by making them stay awake for long periods of time and playing audio recordings in their rooms which he denied he could hear.  He played on their greatest fears, using information they gave to their therapists against them, and would then punish them if they stopped talking.  He was sentenced to 5 years in prison, but was not labeled a flight risk because he was a celebrity (think Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil), and subsequently fled the country before he was to report to Black Gate.

Harleen Quinzel: also a doctor at Arkham State, her goal was to make as much money as possible by writing a tell-all book about one of the patients and charging exorbitant amounts of money for therapy sessions.  She honed in on John Doe, the Joker Killer, because he was the biggest name in the hospital and had refused to talk to any doctors before her (he killed one and has seriously injured seven, but he already has multiple life sentences in a state without the death penalty, so they can’t get rid of him).  They both think they are smarter than the other and can play them like a fiddle, Doe by pretending to be receptive to her, and Quinzel by treating him like he’s a victim of circumstance.  Over the years, he ends up manipulating her, having her smuggle contraband for him which he eventually uses to escape, for which she is fired and arrested.  No clown theme, no sexual relationship with her client, just your run of the mill criminal misconduct.

[signorformica]

Bibliothèque Infernale presents:

HOW ELEVEN CHINESE DEVOURED THEIR BRIDE (1926) —A grotesque, infamous short story by HANNS HEINZ EWERS

This is a story about sodomy and bestiality. Most people don’t understand such things and don’t like them. That’s all right, but, if you were born a Tartar there would be no question that sodomite stories are always very funny.

If a case comes before the court, the Judge, Public Prosecutor, clerk, Lawyer and curiously even the Justice of the Peace all see the humor in it. Only the public can’t see the humor. It is out of the question because the morality of the Public must not be endangered in any way.

So enjoy this mild story of our black gowned family. Naturally it is a light hearted story that will not seduce anyone into sodomy or bestiality. Especially when he sees how this abomination can get a poor devil stuck into prison for a couple years just for a small bit of pleasure.

That is still mild and humane says the Law. Things were not always so light. We read that our dear God rained both pitch and brimstone on the contaminated cities of Sodom and Gomorrah destroying them to the ground.

Only the noble Lot and his daughters were spared. His wife was turned into a naked pillar of salt simply because she once turned to look back toward these abominable cities.

Now the Lot family was not completely morally strong all the time. The behavior of the God fearing family was such that the one and only God sent angels to deliver them from this decline into abomination. How their countrymen desired these messengers and wanted to go out with them! Lot got them drunk and pleaded with them to take his daughters and use their blessed wombs instead!

How do you say, they looked pretty only after you had a few drinks?

Nevertheless this is a funny enough story in spite of all the pitch and brimstone. Funny too are the sodomite abominations in our time.

Yet they have been horribly punished. Sodomites have been crucified, quartered, drowned, broken on the wheel, burned at the stake and still they exist in all parts of the world. The weed of sodomy and bestiality is constantly new and blooming over the entire world. No pure gardener of high morals has ever been able to eradicate it from the garden of humanity.

Impassioned human lust will always explore all possible desires of the flesh. The beat of time appoints individuals across the country and in the city. Soon here, soon there, the false God, Sodom, needs a sacrifice.

The second half of the 11th century was a blooming period for sodomy and it existed in the Order of the Templars, the infamous secret sodomite society. A small group of sodomites existed as well in Sicily and the Abruzzo. The head of their organization was in India.

Today in southern China a pretty piece from Tunis and far into the Caucasus exists an abominable city of sodomy with a temple that holds all their secret love techniques. It has followers in all the large cities of the world.

In all countries, in one city or another there is a place where sodomy and bestiality are now blooming. First it is a bird, then a four footed beast that is strangely popular.

In the Rhienland in the old city of Mettmann the court is known for producing such amusing cases and almost as amusing punishments. The worthy citizens complain to the court and curse that which I applaud!

My friend, Justice of the Peace John, wanted to write his doctoral thesis about it.

“The Origin and Cultural Development linking the district of Mettmann to the second paragraph of Statute 175 R.-Str.-G.-B from the 12th century to today.”

But the Heidelberg Judicial Faculty had little sympathy for this theme. They suggested he choose to write instead about the indebtedness of the District Hubbelrath to the movement of the common people which is certainly very important but not half as humorous.

No one can deny that there is a humorous side to every single case of sodomy or bestiality. From the ���Golden Ass” of Apuleius into modern times there is a long chain of droll and amusing anecdotes. These are all harmless crimes. It is a crying shame that medical knowledge never applies in these cases. In criminal law books all around the world the worst tortures known can be found.

These are promoted not only by the common people but by the higher class, the so-called educated rabble. The sturdy masses merely see these incidents as humorous. Boccaccio, Aretino, Voltaire, Goethe and Balzac all have highly polished jokes about it.

Heine’s sarcastic poem begins:

“Zu Berlin im Alten Schlosse

Sehen wir in Stein gemetz,

Wie ein Weib mit einem Rosse

Sodomitisch sich ergötzt.”

[Translator’s note:

“In an old castle in Berlin

We see chiseled in stone

How a woman with a steed

Amused herself through sodomy.”]

The Royal family has never forgotten this mockery of their illustrious ancestor depicted in this joke as a steed lustful woman. Who can really be further offended? Friedrich the Great had a great laugh over it even though he stopped work on Voltaire’s rough draft of him with his greyhounds because it was not to his taste.

He found himself in good company with Voltaire’s “Pucelle”, which depicted the virgin, Joan of Arc, after her conquest of Orleans riding an ass into a bedroom. Voltaire really intended the love as only allegory and the ass signifying the Catholic Church.

Such humor is known to date from the 18th century and while not appreciated by the common folk was by the Lords that ruled over them. They rewrote the language and revised an old judgment where a poor fellow that had been caught in obscenities with a goat should be burned at the stake. “The offender must burn,” so declared the Law. The clever Lords revised it to read, “The goat must burn”.

Friedrich the Great was an animal lover with a great sense of humor. When a cavalry member was caught making love to his mare he hung them both along with a sign that read, “The fellow wanted to be transferred to the infantry”. Today he would hardly be reported by his comrades.

The sodomy and bestiality in hidden bloom during World War I was so pervasive there were constant jokes about it. A cow is called Mrs. Sergeant-Major Lieutenant in the East and such four legged soldier wives exist in all armies around the world.

That is simply the way things are and no cleric or Judge can change it. Everyone knows that centaurs, fauns, and other mythological beasts come from the interbreeding of human and animal species. We all know they come about through this horrible obscenity but no one really sees any wrong in it.

It is the same with this incidentally full blooded adventure of the eleven Chinese that I will now relate. This story of strange love is not meant to be taken in an evil way.

So, there were these eleven Chinese in Chicago-

But no, I must begin it differently. My friend Fritz Lange lived in Chicago. He owned a laundry business. Really he was a land assessor and gambled on the hounds, but not in this story.

Over in America a man can do what he wants. He can be a waiter, dishwasher, bill poster, carriage maker or anything. Fritz finally had some luck and married the daughter of a Laundry owner. He began working there to learn the business so that when the old man died he could take over and do well with it.

Now he had built it into a mighty laundry business with a dozen pickup and delivery points scattered throughout the city. One day he came to me very excited. I needed to help him. Eleven of his workers had been arrested. Chinese naturally, they are equally the best and the cheapest washers in the city. I could help him because I knew the criminal Judge that had the case.

It was Judge Mc Ginty, whom I played stud poker with twice a week. Now Mc Ginty was a sociable man and liked to talk. He didn’t want the eleven fellows to get off easily and it would be hard to get them released. The eleven Chinese were confined because they had beaten up a God wretched pathetic red-haired fourteen year old Irish rascal named Jackie Murphy.

“Why did they beat him up?” I asked.

“He seduced the bride,” said Fritz Lange.

“That’s not going to be good,” I opinioned. “Judge Mc Ginty is very much a son of Erin and will certainly decide for the young rascal against the yellow brothers. Still, many a man can be persuaded by whiskey.”

“It is so dangerous!” My friend Lange cried. “The bride, that’s what my Chinese call her! The bride is not the bride of just one, but strangely of all eleven! To them she is not just a feminine being of white or yellow color! In short, the bride of the eleven is not human. To be entirely correct she is curiously enough a four legged sow!” “And Jackie seduced her?” I asked.

“Entirely correct,” nodded the land assessor. “The Chinese here live on nothing. They only save and save through the day and through the year until they have enough to go back home with a full purse. There is only one thing they can’t renounce and that is the desires of the flesh in any form. They are horny as apes and can’t stop themselves. They must have something so the eleven fellows went out and bought a pig. From an economical standpoint it is certainly a clever idea, you could scarcely find anything cheaper.

They all live together in a basement apartment and the sow lives there with them. Jackie, the son of the house manager, was hiding and saw the entire obscenity go down. Then, when my Chinese were at work he snuck into the cellar and climbed into the circular pen with their lover. With him it made an even dozen. When the Chinese found out the jealousy grew so strong in their love-struck fruitcake souls that they beat the red-haired rascal half to death.”

“Thunderation!” I cried. “That looks very bad. Does Judge Mc Ginty know all this?”

“Naturally he knows,” answered Fritz Lange. “Jackie’s father had the Chinese arrested. They apologized for the atrocity and for mishandling the boy but when they found out they were going to prison they started screaming that Jackie was the 12th and in league with them. That’s when he first learned from the Chinese what really happened.”

“What will the outcome be?”

“Twenty years in prison is the minimum according to the Law in the State of Illinois. They are not as mild here as they are across the ocean! And I have lost my best workers! But there is still a chance. The case is still with the police and has not yet gone to court. I’ve always been on friendly terms with the police. I need you to take this to Judge Mc Ginty.”

He reached into a bag and brought out a large piece of Nephritis, Imperial Jade, of the most glorious green color and wonderfully cut into the shape of an enormous turkey. It was easily worth more than a few hundred dollars.

“Here,” he cried. “The fellows have given me this. It is something very valuable that can possibly get them out of this jam. Take this to Judge Mc Ginty; I think he will talk with you.”

So I took the stone and went to Mc Ginty but he was not home. His wife greeted me. She was pretty and distinguished despite being fifty-four years old and she understood the situation. I gladly showed her my lump of jade and her eyes got bigger and bigger.

“I received this as a present,” I said weakly. ” I wondered if your husband was interested in it. I could really use a few dollars right now.”

At that moment Mc Ginty came.

“Buy it!” His wife cried out to him. “I’ve been wishing for a piece like that for many years. He’s letting it go really cheap, only-“

The Judge took the glorious piece and set it down on the table.

“Come with me,” he said. “I don’t want her to hear our little chat.”

He took me around back despite the pleading of his wife who stood with both hands clasped together in front of her.

“God, I’ve got fifty dollars,” she cried after us.

“What’s this about?” He asked me out on the street.

“It’s like this,” I said. “You know about those Chinese that were arrested yesterday. My friend Lange needs his workers and wants them released. The fellows gave him this stone to sell so they could get some money for their defense.”

Mc Ginty looked at me sharply.

“I know it’s not right-, “he began. “What do you know about this?”

“Nothing special,” I lied. “They beat up a fourteen year old.”

“Nothing else?” The honorable Judge asked.

He winked at me and gave me a poke in the ribs.

“Nothing that I can remember,” I laughed.

Judge Mc Ginty chuckled, and then he said. “Good, I will buy this stone because my wife wants it so badly. But I can’t give you more than ten dollars for it. There, that is enough for your defense. Go quickly to Jim Mc Namus, the lawyer, you know him. Give him the ten dollars-wait a minute,” He put down another. “There, he gets one for each. The rascal Murphy must defend his son because he is Irish, he won’t talk.

Tell Mc Namus to be in court at 6:00 this evening to get this over with quickly. Now, please excuse me. I must go to my wife and bring her this little thing she is so madly in love with.”

He played with the stone on the table.

Judge Mc Ginty knew what he was talking about. I was at the criminal court that evening. A policeman said that the eleven coolies had beaten the young Murphy. The rascal said nothing. The Chinese said nothing. The defense asked for a mild sentence.

Judge Mc Ginty ruled that each pay a dollar to the state and another in damages to the father of the youth. Fritz Lange immediately paid the twenty-two dollars and another twenty-five for the cost of the proceedings. Everyone went home happy. It didn’t take over five minutes.

A week later Fritz Lange stopped by. I should go with him to his Chinese, he said. They wanted to thank me. So I went with him. We went down into the cellar, all eleven were there and so was the young red-haired rascal Murphy.

They were very polite to me, offered me Saki and a little rice. Then the feast began. It was pork sausage. They had been taken in once and paid dearly.

“We are not doing that again,” they said.

So they slaughtered their bride, and consumed her with enviable appetites.

I like to think that I am moderately open minded and unprejudiced. I am no food critic, but it was a bit too much for me.

*Von elf Chinesen und ihrer aufgefressenen Braut. Hanns Heinz Ewers ~ 1926

“How Eleven Chinese Devoured Their Bride”: translation copyright Joe E. Bandel

Original German version, via Spiegel Online Kultur: gutenberg.spiegel.de/buch/grotesken-7613/3

Image: Hanns Heinz Ewers, ca.1900: “Blood is Life”

[glorybcrn]

hihi everybody !! i’m kelly ( eighteen , she/her , mst ) and uh h ... i haven’t been in the roleplaying game for a hot minute but i’m really excited to be here n get back into it ! this is my garbage son gabriel who is technically an old muse ?? ngl i’ve dragged this poor binch to hell n back so if this intro kinda funky ... that why ....... also i may or may not be running on 3 hrs of sleep jfifjnck

◟ * ◊ ─ jason bateman + cismale + he/him » * believe it or not gabriel dombrova is working for the lothario family. they are forty seven years of age and are known to usually spend their time around city hall. the mayor, who has been a part of the alliance for sixteen years, has been living in victoria for forty seven years. the people closest to them describe the bisexual + capricorn to be driven and astute as well as reserved and unforgiving » 

background

— born and raised in victoria, despite not being a founding family, gabriel’s family still had relatively deep roots within the city; it was said that his great grandfather had moved here from massachusetts looking for the american dream. the patriarchal dombrova came from humble beginnings, building the family business ( a local inn ) from the ground up and over the decades it only got bigger and bigger until it had turned into the respectable hotel that it is known as today and now has multiple locations across the state of florida. naturally, his father inherited this business and his mother, on the other hand, is your typical southern belle, moved here from a small town in texas. she was a corporate lawyer ( it’s how she met gabriel’s father ) but since becoming a mother she really has had no interests in any other occupation other than trophy wife and socialite.

— to say that gabriel’s parents were old school would be putting it lightly. basically, both of his parents were deeply religious republicans and were very aware of their image as a family. they were harsh parents, extremely controlling when it came to their children’s lives but at the same time were also really emotionally absent. to this day they still believe that it was all in the name of tough love but obviously it was just emotional abuse. his father was especially hard on gabriel, he was a strong believer in physical discipline and thought gabriel to be too “soft”. he was always berating him, punishing him for petty offences, and pretty much just fostering your typical environment of toxic masculinity. though he never laid a hand on gabriel’s sister as she was what he called, “a lady” and his “pride and joy.”

— but gabriel was a good kid, he was obedient aside from stupid mistakes that kids are bound to make. he was your typical golden boy, a jack of all trades of sorts. not exceptionally good at one thing, but averagely good at a multitude of things. he was a quick learner and dedicated, anything he took a crack at, he eventually excelled in. throughout high school, he mostly kept to himself, choosing to focus on his education and after graduating valedictorian, he went to harvard where he earned his business degree. the plan was to come back to victoria, work for his father, and make his way up until he was ready to inherit the business himself.

— but while away at university, he met abigail. it was your typical whirlwind of a first love where it felt like it was just the two of you against the world. with her, gabriel experienced a sense of normalcy and sincere, unconditional love. for someone who severely lacked both up until then, maybe it wasn’t so crazy that the two decided to marry as soon as they graduated. together, they moved back to victoria to start their lives. to an outsider, gabriel’s life had seemingly always been perfect, envy-worthy. with a renowned and respected family, a successful business, the perfect wife, and now, a baby on the way too, it’s no wonder he’d been chosen by the lothario’s to be their candidate as mayor.

— his connection with the alliance started out small; the hotel business had been in a rough spot for a couple of years and out of nowhere, they seemed to have just come in at the right time, saving the day. he could be on their payroll all for the price of a few, teensy favours. favours such as his hotel being used as refuge for some of their men, a place of business when needed, and gabriel refusing to be a failure, especially in his father’s eyes, easily succumbed to their offer. 

— of course, gabriel’s family has no idea about the real root of his sudden interest in politics, much less how the family business has managed to be so successful still despite his now even busier schedule. and as a result, his relationship with his wife and children have deteriorated over the years. it began as a defense mechanism, intentionally distancing himself from his loved ones as a way to protect them. and while his children maybe the one last soft spot gabriel has left, his sudden absence as a father has definitely put a strain on his relationship with them. however his relationship with his wife seemed to suffer even more, things between the two of them are definitely not how they once used to be. they’re cold to one another and see each other more so as strangers rather than husband and wife. unfortunately, a divorce doesn’t exactly fit into the white picket-fence image gabriel had so carefully curated over the years. 

personality

— after decades of playing different facades, gabriel’s definitely lost a sense of his true self, or maybe it’s just fully gone. he used to be this really compassionate and benevolent person who always prioritized family over anything. it’s why ( at least this is what he tells himself ) he initially risked getting into business with the alliance in the first place, but now, he really only pretends to be those things to get the people to like him. he can be incredibly charming when he wants to be but it’s all just so .. hollow ? if that makes sense. like, nowadays there’s rarely an ounce of honesty or sincerity in him. he’s just so consumed with being a part of the alliance, it’s all he really knows at this point.

— extremely driven and cunning, if there’s something gabriel wants, he’ll get it. even as a child, he was an over achiever and so he’s known to always come through when it’s requested of him. he’s not exactly evil .. ? but he is loyal to the lotharios. i think there’s a small part of him that hates them, hates himself, and hates what he’s doing but idk he kinda just tells that it to shut up lmao. having had to learn it as a child, he’s very good at compartmentalizing which is probably why he can play all these different roles so well without going insane dnkjds

— really reserved, tries ( and succeeds ) to put out this strait-laced and conservative image. has the ability to remain calm in any sort of situation and twist things to his advantage. like honestly ?? gabriel is probably a pr manager’s wet dream .. he just comes across as this very charming and kind man, he’s the type of politician that’ll say hi to your baby and sign its head idk

but ugh idk it’s hard to explain gabriel’s personality since he’s such an emotional mess, i would just end up rambling about the same thing over and over again if i tried to keep going so i’m gonna .. stop right now.

connections

— personal assistant ?? someone incredibly organized and competent. this plot can range from really basic like .. yeah book my doctor’s appointment thnx to someone he’s actually pretty close to ? maybe he doesn’t even realize it, idk. like we can literally do wtvr w this, so !

— other members of the alliance, could be just someone he’s acquainted with or knows well and works pretty close with.

— if you have any muses involved with politics or managing ? his campaign manager or just anyone who worked on his campaign. like w the personal assistant we can .. go basic or brazy w this.

— love interests ? doesn’t have to be ~romantic~ per se .. but idk like affairs ig ?? cause .. gabe’s not perfect, rip. but he is careful so it wldn’t be like .. smth messy or if it was he’d prob make certain measurements after. idk what that means exactly dnjsnsdjk just tryna not get caught uk … or even something as small as flirtationships !

ok these all suck bc gabe is….. emotionally dead inside cnjdsnksnjd but ! obv tht can change per circumstance n whatever so pls .. feel free to mssg me whenever if u have any ideas !!