#but this particular pattern has been escalating over the last few years in particular

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

i am at this point very certain that i am legitimately, actually cursed. the only degree to which this is metaphorical is that there's not a word for it that doesn't imply supernatural means, instead of ones that can be explained by science but haven't been yet.

[shadyluminaryparadise]

Watch Out: How fake designer bags Is Taking Over and What to Do About It

My ally instructed me one other day that she received herself a pretend bag.​ She explained that it was just an affordable one much too! Once i heard that, I was like, "What?! You simply bought a pretend bag?" She gave the impression to be all enthusiastic about it, however.​

I recall going for walks through the markets of Hong Kong a single time and being intrigued by the many awesome duplicate luggage on sale.​ Currently being an avid lover of designer items, I used to be right away drawn to them.​ I recognized how intricate they looked and the attention to element was absolutely nothing wanting outstanding.​ I planned to inquire all over to find out far more but I was not absolutely sure if it was legit or not so I just saved it to myself.​

Little did I recognize that those duplicate baggage ended up in fact extremely popular and broadly accepted.​ Everybody preferred a bit of luxurious while not having to shell out the significant selling price tags.​ I could see why folks were getting to be so directed to it.​ It was as If your luggage had been an extension of their temperament, permitting them to express their flavor and course instantly.​

The widest collection of duplicate luggage appeared to come around the spring.​ Each individual corner of the market experienced a variation of sizes, designs, and prices.​ The shopkeepers have been satisfied to reply all my queries and I even managed to choose up a number of one of a kind pieces.​ The intricate finishing and top quality high-quality truly shocked me.​ I couldn't feel the level of craftsmanship that was place to the bags nevertheless the positives definitely outweighed the negatives.​

I took my reproduction luggage residence and made use of them on many events.​ I can confidently express that I bought my dollars's really worth concerning use and high quality.​ I felt like a million dollars every time I put on a whole new accent.​ It produced me a great deal more self-confident and complemented my apparel in a method that only designer products can.​ I've now grow to be to some degree of the collector and never ever overlook a possibility to take a position in a whole new duplicate bag.​

The secondhand market of reproduction bags has long been escalating massively in the last number of years and this can be an awesome place to get them at a cheaper price.​ There are many devoted Web sites and applications for purchasing and promoting high-conclusion duplicate baggage so It is really turning into simpler to come across attractive pre-cherished pieces.​ I have managed to select up some wonderful discounts from thrift stores way too.​

Because of their versatility, my reproduction baggage also can transition from day to night time appears to be without difficulty.​ There is some thing quite magnificent about getting a piece of high-quality Italian craftsmanship that could elevate any outfit.​ Regardless if I'm in a very hurry and have only time to select a few accessories, I am particular that my replica bags will constantly make the cut.​

Among the finest points about reproduction baggage is that they haven't got to suit into a specific fashion or pattern.​ You can structure them any way you like and Convey yourself in ways that true designer luggage can't.​ Not to mention which they appear in many different hues and resources so I'm often spoilt for selection.​ I am also astonished to uncover that they're additional tough than true designer luggage in specified situations.​

I now realize why so Many of us are so keen on replica luggage.​ They're economical and fashionable and fairly appropriate for day to day use.​ Regardless of whether you are a maximalist or even a minimalist, there is a duplicate bag available for everyone.​ You can not go Completely wrong after you invest in a piece of higher-finish craftsmanship that oozes with appeal and sophistication.​

To start with, I didn't understand why she was so joyful about it.​ I imply, will not she realize that fake goods don't have the exact same excellent as being the legitimate types? I was astonished that she did not think two times about this.​ I absolutely informed her to rethink her selection.​

But then, she started to make clear to me louis vuitton outlet why she desired to purchase the bogus bag.​ She explained that the first bag she desired was way too pricey and she was searching for a more affordable just one.​ Now, I kinda recognized her.​ I mean, we've all been there ideal? We want anything really nice but the worth tag would not suit our spending plan.​ This is exactly why Progressively more people are turning to pretend bags.​

But that is not all.​ My Mate also mentioned that several of the fake bags she discovered on the web seem better yet than the first ones.​ I was like, "That is undoubtedly not genuine!" But she insisted that it had been real and showed me several photos.​ I gotta say, the faux kinds did appear pretty good.​ I was beginning to transform my head about pretend baggage.​

And afterwards, one among my other close friends chipped in.​ He claimed that buying a phony bag may not be this kind of undesirable plan as it's less expensive, Which the standard of the fake is likely to be nearly as good as the first ones.​ That's when I began to genuinely see why people today invest in pretend luggage.​

Needless to say, I am even now not persuaded that It is really ok to buy fake merchandise.​ I indicate, It can be nonetheless a counterfeit merchandise and i am versus the thought of supporting the those who steal other makes' patterns.​ But I'm able to now understand why people would Choose fake luggage, particularly when their spending plan is restricted.​ I guess everything boils all the way down to your individual choice.​

[goatchulu]

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

[autisticandroids]

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x06 For England!

Almost at the halfway point of the season, and things are really ramping up - Allan is transitioning to team Castle, Robin is in full blown solider (assassin) mode, and Marian is (sigh) yet again under the threat of sexual assault. And of course, more silly disguises, but perhaps the less said about those hats the better!

Another opener, another one of the Sheriff’s contractors murdered.

How did the gang find Allan’s secret stash? They got to it first, so they couldn’t have just been tracking him.

The Pact is being signed for King Richard’s birthday, which is the 8 September - we find out later that Robin’s birthday is 14 October, which means the events of 2x06-2x012 take place over less than a month. I mean, if any of the writers cared about such things, which I suspect they didn’t. But from memory, it doesn’t seem preposterous - things are moving quickly as tensions are escalating. It also means that we’re a year on from the events of 1x08, which also took place on Richard’s birthday. It kind of works, even if they are living in Sherwood, the Land of Endless Summer.

Djaq’s face this entire scene. She’s the only one who doesn’t hurl accusations at Allan, just gives a sad shake of the head.

And...Robin’s off on his own again.

Marian’s new wardrobe, Guy clearly doing his shopping at the peasant woman’s Laura Ashley store we saw in 2x01. Other than the blue dress she’s holding, I don’t think she wears any of these, does she?

Guy makes it clear he’s actively pursuing her again, the suspicion of a few episodes ago conveniently forgotten.

Marian’s hairpins: useful as weapons and lockpicks.

Robin’s disguises: once again, a hood and an accent. “Be meek and obedient, my child” with a wink is cute, however.

I actually love the dress Marian’s wearing in these scenes, but we never really get a good look at it.

I wish I had more to say about Edward, but I don’t. He’s just there.

And it’s Wedge Antilles! Commander of Rogue Squadron, Red Leader, General of the New Republic himself. Denis Lawson great in this role.  I also very much enjoy him as Captain Foster in Hornblower.

Alright, so Robin at this point still doesn’t know that Roger of Stoke was intercepted (aka killed). I actually appreciate that this is a plot point that has been ongoing for several episodes.

Much has been in this outfit for most of the season (but this is the first really good shot of it) - it’s actually Robin’s vest that he wore early in season 1, let out a little at the sides. I really love the attention to detail here, in that the gang would of course be repurposing clothes, and that it’s Much in particular that would be getting Robin’s hand me downs.

It’s nice when we get to see how clever Will is - forward thinking about signing the gang up as musicians and making the instruments.

“They’re just bells.” John’s face! Then the payoff with the guards - “bells, mate” (ring ring).

Allan’s still got a bit of grey in his costume - he hasn’t fully made the switch yet. It does seem that Allan’s initial plan was to flee with his hoard, but when the gang found it first, he chooses to go to Guy for employment rather than leave Nottingham.

Sorry this is an image heavy post, but John’s tag is completely visible in this scene! Where was the continuity editor? Where was the director? I mean, it’s not craft service coffee cups, but jeez.

Is this the first time we learn that Marian’s mother’s name was Kate? Or that she’s even been mentioned?

Sussex. Sussex. Sussex? Sussex. SUSSEX!

For all of Guy’s talk earlier that he’s gaining more power, he can’t save Marian, and he can’t save Allan - his “power” exists only in exercising Vaisey’s will, he has none of his own.

I will however give him credit for the instinct to try and get Marian out of the castle - perhaps the only honourable thing he’s done so far, in that he thinks of her welfare before his own in arranging her escape without any promise of reward.

But...of course it doesn’t last. Now, Vaisey clearly has some kind of psychological hold over Guy, and the scene between them is incredibly creepy, as Guy seems almost hypnotised while Vaisey invades his personal space and gives slow deliberate orders. He makes no threats, his words are actually quite benign, but there’s a sinister undertone to the whole thing.

But still, Guy ultimately chooses Vaisey over Marian - as he will do again at the end of the season. He allows Marian to be chained at the wrists and taken to Winchester - and it’s interesting that Vaisey leaves him in control of this. At this point, Guy still could have facilitated Marian’s escape, Vaisey isn’t there watching to make sure he does what he wants, he let’s Guy make the choice, he’s so certain of his own control over Guy. Vaisey is such an astute judge of character (well, men - he always underestimates women), and master manipulator.

Meanwhile, Robin’s also making the choice not to confide in or seek help from his gang, instead taking up the role of assassin himself, and there’s a lot going on in that. We know Robin is the kind of commander who will always throw himself into the fray first, put his life on the line before those of his followers, and in a way it’s reminiscent of 1x02 where Robin made sure his men were safe on the other side of the portcullis before fighting off the remaining guards single-handedly. But we’re a way from half-showoff, half-deathwish Robin now - this choice is calculated (but still reckless). He sees his role as captain to protect his soliders, not the other way around, and he thinks its a suicide mission and doesn’t want to risk their lives.

He tells Edward “I have no choice” but at this point Robin has lots of choices. Because he should tell the gang what is going on, not leave them in the dark, he should seek their counsel, and accept their help. But he doesn’t, because for all the justification he’s cloaking himself in, he knows it’s a terrible thing and while he’s willing to bear the burden (after likely doing much worse in the Holy Land), he’s not willing to let the gang bear it with him. But also - he’s not willing to let the gang talk him out of it either, which they would certainly try to do. He’s in war mode and his only objective is to eliminate the enemy the most effective way he knows how - to turn off the humanity in himself and let the solider take over.

Allan, Guy, and Robin are again falling back on their old patterns - Allan to talk his way into the most advantageous position possible (and survive), Guy cede control to Vaisey (and further his ambition), and Robin to act recklessly (and protect his King). All of these cycles are self-destructive, and only really Allan will be able to break free from his by the end of the season.

Not the face of a rational man. If he’d talked things over with the gang first, things might have been different.

There are lines of Robin’s letter that are (inadvertent) foreshadowing - “but most of all for the life, for the love we could not have” and “I’ll see you in heaven.” Debatable whether Robin genuinely believes the latter (given he’s about to commit some mortal sins without the opportunity to repent), or whether he says it for Marian’s comfort.

Very lucky Robin didn’t aim for anyone’s head - but Vaisey would know he would go for the heart, the most effective kill shot.

CONDENDER, READY? GLADITATOR, READY? 3...2...1...

Both Robin (righteous anger) and Allan (seething resentment) are being unreasonable here. Robin: “You don’t have to do this” - and do what instead, exactly? Allan: “You should have given me a second chance.” Well, he did. It’s Allan who swings first, and wins, thanks to Robin’s distraction at seeing Marian in chains - but he doesn’t go in for the kill swing, and I don’t think he would have, actually.

Tar and fire - weren’t we here three weeks ago?

First John disarms Guy with his quarterstaff, then distracts him with the bells, then hits him in the groin. What a legend.

It bothers me when they all tell Much to shut up and it’s played for laughs. Really, this scene should have been the gang giving Robin the what for about going off alone and making suicide-shaped plans without them, but it also makes sense they don’t want to rub salt in the wound.

A dark end to the episode, a sign of things to come.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 4: Letter's From No One

Frank had been having a bad day before seven people landed on top of him, this just wasn't improving things.

There were several groans and mutters of yet more discomfort, but even more sounds of relief as one by one they all got to their feet and stretched, glancing around wearily at their surroundings, all wands now drawn in the open space of a house they may never have been in, but from description had a fair idea of where they were.

The plush carpet was thick and white, and smelled strongly as if it had just been shampooed, leading the boys to instantly wish their trainers were dirtier. Directly in the next room was a proper looking telly adjacent to a fireplace, the mantel of which did indeed hold numerous pictures of who must be Dudley. Behind them led into the kitchen, almost hard to look at it was gleaming so brightly in a high noon sun, Alice quite positive she may be able to see her reflection in the tiled floor which was beautifully done in various shades of pink perfectly distributed in a diamond pattern, with a mahogany table polished enough to eat off of sat center stage.

The whole place was almost eerily clean, too sterile, like breathing on the wrong thing would spark dust and send someone into a frenzy.

So the first thing James did was go over to the sideboard carefully constructed on the wall in the living room full of glass figurines, picked the nicest china plate he could with petunia's delicately painted on in ornate blue designs, and chucked it through the window that led onto the open lawn in a mockery of a disc throw.

Lily frowned reproachfully at this behaviour, but turned dismissively away as his three friends followed him curiously into the living room and instead addressed Alice and Frank more directly. "Well, I clearly didn't reverse anything, and I do apologize for that."

"I'm hazarding a guess you somehow made it worse," Alice agreed, not exactly trying to be malicious, but considering they weren't even on the school grounds, or in fact had any clue how they'd actually wound up here, she couldn't bring herself to be in much of a gracious mood either.

"Anybody else at all concerned if those Dursleys are around?" Frank asked with a hint of worry, still glancing around as if expecting a bull to charge him any moment. "I'd not particularly like to meet this Vernon." Especially while watching the elder Black transfigure pictures of Dudley into actual baby piglets upon the mantel where they were now squealing in fright.

"Speak for yourself," Lupin said in disgust, prodding his wand against the television with a calculating look in place. There was a fizzle, sparks for a moment, then it was steaming while also flashing upon the screen images ranging from witches on brooms to, well, more adult channels.

Pettigrew was doing something equally noteworthy they were all sure underneath the sofa that he'd wriggled himself under. It was now levitating a few inches off the ground, only his feet sticking out, and they could hear a faint humming noise as he worked.

Lily was continuing to address the other three without acknowledging any of them, without being able to entirely hide a slightly vindictive glint in her eyes with her back to them all. "Listen, this is getting ridiculous. We need to find some way to get help, maybe figure out a way to get to the Ministry and find a way to reverse all of this."

"I've a question," Regulus spoke up. There wasn't a trace of unease in his voice while speaking, but still he seemed to be having trouble really looking at any one person. "Exactly what year is it?" He was looking strategically around the house. "Petunia should still be your age, yes? Which means she shouldn't even be married to this man yet, let alone this house, and, well..." he gestured to everything around them, and Lily's face paled an extra degree, even the Marauders stopped in their tracks as they fully realized this. "I'm honestly rather concerned if anything we know exists right now."

Lily turned on the spot and tried to go to the door without further ado, but like the cupboard before, no amount of magic or brute force was even putting a dent in it. James tried to climb out the window, breaking the rest of it remorselessly so it was much safer to climb through of course, but could not get so much as a finger out the window no matter how many more objects he threw that managed it just fine.

In a last ditch attempt, Peter ran to the back door in an honest panic and wrenched at the sliding glass that he nearly ran into it was so free of streaks, but it too refused them access to the outside world.

Alice kept at the broken window and began shouting out of it for help, but soon realized she could be doing the same until her voice was no more and no one would come.

"What did we do!" Lily shrieked, clutching fistfulls of hair, her green eyes flashing a sickly color and swimming. "Did we actually manage to break the world!"

"Alright, alright, no panicking!" Frank quickly waved for silence, trying to find some control and still going over to Alice, putting a comforting hand on her slightly shaking shoulder and refusing to let his hand join as he spoke. "Something is clearly happening. Now that, that book," he gestured to where it had been left just inside the cupboard in their haste, "clearly has something to do with it all, getting through it is clearly getting us around. So, maybe, if we finish it-"

"We'll get things back to normal," Alice finished for him, her voice far calmer than her small shivers let on.

There was still hesitation and unease for this, as if no one wanted back near the little book now that the full might of its powers was realized.

Yet Remus had one reason in particular he'd like to not be trapped in this cycle for the foreseeable future and would like to have things done, so he found it in himself to be the one to continue this. It wasn't even hard to find his place, the first chunk of pages were completely blank again. The next chapter, Letter's From No One, and the first sentence were the only thing visible in the book.

"Right then," James nodded at him when he got started, all of them with a good idea what the chapter title referred to considering this was from the point of view from a kid raised with Muggles. Wincing at the idea of being trapped in that cupboard for any length of time considering his recent foray in there, and quickly trying to find something else to do, "you do that then. I'm going to keep myself busy."

By this, he clearly meant continue destroying the house around him, possibly even burn it down if he got the chance before he left. He started by joining Peter in the kitchen and having an interesting conversation with him about what a refrigerator was and why it was stocked full of such odd foods.

Regulus could think of nothing to do but follow Sirius as he went tromping up the stairs, and though he loathed every step he had to take in this Muggle dwelling, it was still better than awkwardly standing there by Lupin. The two brothers could still surprisingly hear every word from up here, though unsure if it was magic making this happen or simply how large and open the house felt without seemingly another soul on earth to hear as well.

Sirius continued making plenty of threats against these Muggles as further mistreatment of Harry continued, though just a small pinch of hope did arrive when Harry's Hogwarts letter was finally in his grasp. It didn't matter the fact this kid was still nothing more than a figment in their head, that was Prongs' kid, his nephew he would still consider him no matter his best mates current feelings towards Sirius, and he couldn't imagine taking this lying down if he'd still had breath, so there was as much a purpose to his steps as there was continuing his revenge. If he kept moving, he'd continue to convince himself he wasn't going to drop dead like this future implied.

Regulus wasn't at all invested in this story past the fact it was having the surprising act of putting him and his brother on the same side of something for the first time in over five years. Ever since Sirius had come back from his first year at Hogwarts Regulus had felt like he'd lost his big brother, but finally their feelings on Muggles were once again made clear. If anything this was only reinforcing Regulus' idea of the whole species, and so it was with childish delight he followed Sirius into the master bedroom and at once helped him start dismantling the area.

Alice, Frank, and Lily were vaguely terrified to step foot in the living room, where the piglets had now gotten down and were actually setting off a few traps that for now weren't deadly, but the three people didn't want to know how far it had gone in there. Nor did Lily have any desire to be back within close range of Potter after such forced conditions, so they remained uneasily in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs and watched Lupin restlessly flip through pages, concern growing the more the Dursleys efforts to hide this from Harry became.

Lily couldn't help thinking how could any child be treated like this, let alone her sister's nephew? The two little girls hadn't been close in years now, but even still Lily couldn't imagine for a second being under the condition of taking in Dudley and doing anything like this. Why then did Petunia feel this was okay to be done?

When things escalated in that the Dursleys even left the house and began trying to find places to hide, her confusion only grew.

"Cokeworth?" Lily muttered in surprise, wondering that of all places, why would the Dursleys think they could return to the town she and Petunia had grown up in to escape magic? Had they possibly some naïve idea of evading the owls by being near an old place they'd have once gone? She couldn't help her mind drifting to just one street over from her house, where Spinner's End began, and how she longed for Severus to be here with her now amongst all of these people, most of whom she loathed. The two best friends may have been on uneasy terms lately with all the people he'd been hanging around with, but he was still her friend, and that would have been nice right about now in such a situation, Potter was lucky in that regards at least.

Speaking of, the man seemed done with the kitchen for now, and none of them had the desire to step in there either when a lingering burning smell was left at the twos heels.

Peter continued right up the stairs, but hesitated in surprise and turned back to see James now hovering in front of Evans. He was struggling with words in front of her for the first time in, ever. His flamboyant nature seemed to be failing him, and his friend hadn't a single guess what he was trying to say to the red head.

Finally, he said stiffly, "your sister sucks."

She kept her hands placed defensively on her hips, but gave a single nod.

It was the first time in their history they'd openly agreed on something, and clearly it was all the two could handle in one moment, as James then bolted up the stairs after his mates.

Peter caught sight of flickering lights and immediately went to see what they were up to, but James began curiously trying to get the rest of the doors open. One flat out wouldn't, like those before, it seemed sealed by a magic he had no hope to understand, and he couldn't figure out why until he found what must be Dudley's room that opened just fine. The other then, was likely his second bedroom, or Harry's, depending. Why was it sealed off, he tried to understand while at the same time pacing with fascination in front of numerous posters he had not a clue of understanding and rows of slim cases. He picked one up and found it of a stiff plastic, with odd little titles across that could have been Greek he understood those no better even if the words were English.

He came to a stop in front of a desk that had a shiny box with reflective glass on the front of it. It sort of looked like the device downstairs Remus had set his sights on, but on a smaller scale, with a truly odd rectangle in front of it that had letters randomly spaced and some little device resting on what may be a cushion with two little buttons that did nothing with something even smaller set in between the two buttons that spun and also felt useless. All of this was set next to a giant black box.

Deciding it looked expensive and important, he shoved the whole thing off and watched with satisfaction as it crashed, not needing to know what it was to be sure he'd broken the majority of it. The glass screen had cracked, several of the little letters seemed to have popped out of the rectangle, and the little spinny thing on the small cushion was rolling away, but it was the box that had gotten the worst, having landed first and having the other things smash on top of it. James cocked his head to the side as the inside was exposed and leaned in closer, noticing it was doing the same thing the contraption downstairs had when Remus had used a spell on it. Sparks were coming out, and as he followed a thick cord sticking out the back of it he saw it was connected to something inside the wall. He couldn't pull that out, he decided, it would be more effort than it was worth, so wanting to pull it apart further he stuck his hand inside right next to a bright red wire.

"I can not believe that place is hospitable," Alice shook her head at the description Lupin was providing of such a shack.

Suddenly Remus stiffened and muttered, "the words vanished."

"What?" Frank asked in surprise just as there was a thump from upstairs, like something even heavier landing than whichever person had just broken something.

At first they just went up curiously to see what could have disrupted this, then they heard shouts of panic.

Remus shoved Regulus aside hard, the book smacking him with enough force to leave a bruise as it left his hands, not even registering Regulus made no move to catch it when he only recognized two voices and saw why.

Sirius had at once jumped forward and dragged him to the opposite end of the room, away from the sparking computer, and was now tapping him on the face and shouting his name repeatedly while Peter crouched on his other side and was all but crying, "oh Merlin, is he dead? Did we kill him? Why did no one realize doing this could get us all killed that much earlier! We shouldn't know any of this, and now we're all going to die-"

He was holding James' hand so hard he looked like he was trying to pull it off and hardly released it when Remus tried to get both of them to move. "Shut up, both of you," he hissed, before carefully placing his fingers in his jugular, and waiting one agonizingly long moment before he felt a soft thump that kept his own going.

His breath of relief calmed the two before he had a chance to even say, "he's alive, though that probably won't feel good," he nodded to James' slightly charred index finger. Peter quickly released his hand with an uttered apology and even took a hasty step back like he thought he was only going to make it worse. Remus fixed him and Sirius with a hateful look while hovering next to James' head before anyone else got any bright ideas. "What were you two idiots thinking? Why weren't you keeping an eye on him?"

"What is he, five?" Sirius demanded, fear quickly giving way to defense though his hand lingered on James' sternum. It was the exact same defensive expression Remus had seen of him for the past three weeks. It was, in fact, the exact same reaction he'd had so many nights ago, the day after the full moon when Remus had last confronted him. The tension between the two ramped up so high for a moment another spark nearly set off between them before James moved restlessly and squinted blearily at the pair.

"You two talkin' again?" He muttered disjointedly, moving as if to fix his glasses on his nose before hissing and curling on his side protectively around his hand.

"Sure Prongs, you got it," Sirius said at once, trying to lean over him with concern, but James was already trying to prop himself upright, using his other hand to get himself back into a sitting position.

His friends tried to help at once even as he tried to shrug them off, hampered slightly by the fact his hand was still spasming slightly. Finally he was resting slightly more dignified with his back against the wall and just gazing blearily around, his hand curled protectively against his chest still, and was distantly pleased to see Evans' eyes glued to him, though her pupils were so wide from shock they nearly covered the green, he noted sadly.

Looking for something to make his friends stop watching him like a mewling kitten for a second, he instead directed his hand towards the still sparking box and tried to pleasantly inform, "don't touch that."

Peter gave a wild burst of laughter that still sounded a bit wet while Remus and Sirius exchanged commiserating looks of exasperation that James had missed so much he instantly smiled.

The moment was broken by Regulus calling, "err, Lupin, the words are back." He was nudging the book with his foot, and Remus' face at once settled into that indifferent mask as he pulled away from Sirius and went over to it, snatching it off the floor and trying to continue in the awkward silence.

He nearly got to the end before Sirius took it upon himself to act on the first moment they'd had in nearly a month. He grabbed Remus' sleeve and tried to drag him away, the ones huddled in the doorway moving aside with looks on their faces like they were seeing a ghost for the first time, for whom Sirius didn't care. Remus ignored him, letting himself be dragged along only so he could keep reading, hoping the magic from finishing this would stop Sirius before this could get started, but was distracted by the bathroom door closing and Sirius whispering in genuine horror, "What if we never make up from this fight Moony?" The idea hadn't even occurred to him until this moment, and he was seized with what it would mean for him. "You weren't mentioned by McGonagall there at the beginning! What if we died! We never went and got Harry out of there!"

"I mean, maybe we just-" Remus failed to really get his head around this idea. He kept trying to let his eyes linger on the words instead of Sirius, tried to convince his mind to be more curious what a boom could be doing around Harry, but it was no use. "Like we're equipped to handle a kid!" He grasped on the part he could still make sense of.

"You think Prongs is?" Sirius demanded, an actual smile on his lips even as he pictured it, there was no force to the joke.

Remus opened, and closed his mouth for that one.

"We have to find a way to fix this Remus," Sirius said, grabbing his arm, looking right into his face, determined to stay on track and make him see this. "We can't let Harry grow up, like I did!"

"You're talking nonsense," Remus tried to scoff, tried to push his hand away without looking at him. "The bloody kid's not even born yet, I'm still not really believing Evans actually does fall for James, the idiot." It was hard though, to keep pretending like this was all just some story, when he did take a peek and see how deeply that had hurt Sirius, like he was playing off what had happened to him as well. He struggled to swallow for a moment, speaking of the real matter when whispering, "I don't know how to forgive what you did."

Sirius released him and took a hurried step back, seeming to have forgotten himself for a moment, that he was supposed to be angry with Remus, why he suddenly couldn't even remember. His face closed off, he now had the same cruel twist to his lips Regulus had while speaking of the Muggles while still in the cupboard. "Right, well, that's that then."

He walked back off without another word, leaving Remus more confused and miserable than ever. He didn't have long to dwell on it, as he looked down and read the final lines aloud, even to himself, Harry's final feelings felt all too appropriate. The second he finished, the feeling began again.

[nomanwalksalone]

THE LEAST OF ALL CASUALTIES 

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

I’m thinking, for some reason, of the late Adnan Khashoggi and of a host of dead playboys and nabobs, shrouded in the finest custom shirts money, so much money, could buy. Adnan Khashoggi, who so clearly wanted to be the Basil Zaharoff of the late twentieth century, an international man of mystery dealing arms and other items from the shadows, a figure of luxury legend, a man with whom I have nothing in common, save that life occasionally humbles us…

Yes, Khashoggi, who nicknamed his Korean bodyguard “Mr. Kill,” who reportedly kept $100,000 cash handy in an attaché case on board his private jet to sweeten any deal or grease any palm, who ordered the largest yacht in the world (Queen wrote a song about it! It was the villain’s yacht in a Bond film!), came undone. Iran Contra, Imelda Marcos, BCCI, a host of 1980s names of tarnished glitz like the hidden grime in a Helmsley hotel… He had to sell the yacht; Donald Trump briefly owned it before Trump’s own financial problems forced him to sell it yet again, to a Saudi prince.

Adnan Khashoggi, yes, that Khashoggi, uncle of the intrepid journalist Jamal Khashoggi, assassinated in sordid circumstances a year after Adnan died in wealth but not splendor. Assassinated and unavenged.

I am even less Adnan’s spiritual heir than that serious, dedicated nephew. It’s a strange contrast between the thoughtful engagement of one and the freewheeling, flamboyant capitalism of the other, a flamboyance of fairy tales, fairy tales because at their best they make us momentarily forget their foundations of exploitation and graft.

Like robber baron James Goldsmith (who inspired Terence Stamp’s character in Wall Street), Khashoggi was a famous customer of the bespoke services at Lanvin, the oldest couturier in Paris and for a long time the best shirtmaker there. Stories filter out, unattributed in magazines or relayed by friends in the know, stories that made him the last of the nabobs. He ordered a thousand custom shirts at a time! The workrooms (until a few years ago on-site on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, some of the most expensive real-estate in the world!) were busy for months! Because he only wore his Lanvin custom shirts once! What a way to save on laundry bills!

What happened to them? Did he hand them down to his sons, or to Jamal? Like the King of Morocco with his Smalto custom suits, once worn did he pass them on to his staff?

Those days of excess are gone. They were long gone when I pushed the door at Lanvin, curious to try what knowledgeable friends had called the best shirtmaker. The shirtmaker and his staff must have known that, as clients go, I could not be at a farther remove from that man and those days, a gloomy wallflower anxious to make sure that my centimes counted, that what I received would last, gratefully accepting their suggestion to provide extra cloth to remake the collar and cuffs of the one shirt I initially ordered, for whenever those would wear out. For I was interested just in a single shirt from that maker, not thousands to strew in the wake of conspicuous consumption. No matter. They treated me as politely and patiently as they would their most extravagant client, and produced a shirt that fitted closely, marvelously, with handmade buttonholes that a much more famous shirtmaker exclaimed were worthy of a museum. In other words, a gem as precious as the daydreams I had burnished.

I was to be only a sporadic client, sometimes ordering only after an absence of years, surprised at how well they remembered my tastes, at how well my patternmaker carried out the refinements I wanted, indeed at how, over years, we nurtured a polite friendship over shared snark and tastes in old movies and Art Deco.

Art Deco. Lanvin’s Paris men’s shop is an entire building, opened in 1926 dedicated only to custom tailoring and shirtmaking. Prior to that it had been the headquarters of Lanvin Décor, designed with the unmistakable flourishes of Armand-Albert Rateau. A gorgeous luxury. For decades, Lanvin Tailleur et Chemisier retained Rateau’s stylized gilt découpé designs and furniture, before renovation banished those motifs only to tie patterns and other accessories. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Lanvin offered any men’s ready-to-wear. While it had embraced worldwide licenses for garments bearing the Lanvin name by the 1980s (my father has a poly-cotton Lanvin dress shirt from that period), its flagship was one of the only places in the world where – decades before Berluti made this boast – a man could be outfitted in bespoke literally from head to toe, Assiduous hands at  the Lanvin-owned hatter Gélot (magically transposed from the Place Vendôme to a shop-in-shop on the Lanvin bespoke floor) still crafted and fit the finest headwear, while one of the Corthay brothers themselves created Lanvin custom shoes. As for Lanvin custom tailoring? In 1901, Jeanne Lanvin herself had designed Lanvin very first men’s garment, her friend Edmond Rostand’s elaborately embroidered uniform for his initiation into the Académie Française, the first of over 70 such custom-made uniforms Lanvin would make, along with every sort of conventional tailored garment – including suits and sportcoats for certain French politicians who could not patronize their British tailors while in office.

Those days are gone. In the ’60s Lanvin had advertised its bespoke with elegant cartoons of well-appointed gentlemen’s clubs, yacht marinas, luxury hotel suites and trophy-bedecked hunting lodges, all captioned “For a certain class of men.” Those men are mostly gone. So, too, are their replacements, the rootless international men of mystery like Khashoggi. Even intellectual poseurs (yes, I’ll grant him the “u”) like Bernard-Henri Levy stopped ordering their casually unbuttoned white shirts from Lanvin.  Middle-class punters like myself, in love with the ritual of cloth selection, of fitting, of being escorted to the bespoke floor with its own little escalator, the month-long wait pregnant with anticipation for an elaborately-packaged single shirt, are too few.  No more sprawling bespoke floor but a small if tasteful salon, with what remained of the ateliers on the same floor, behind a discreet door. The hidden of the hidden: at a time brands all over heavily advertised their custom services (however spurious), not a single vitrine at 15, faubourg Saint-Honoré carried the least hint that one of the finest tailors and shirtmakers in Paris resided there. Resided, for they did not travel – unless a customer flew themout. Even the shop Lanvin opened on Savile Row a few years ago didn’t bring them over, instead offering a sort of customized stock special service on its ready-to-wear designs.

This is the least of all casualties, to lament the end of something that only the most entitled of us could ever use. For even if I’ll never set foot on a yacht, I recognize how privileged I was to indulge in the affectation of a custom shirtmaker, of the fetish of its product. Of the last days of this particular legend. Ninety-five years after its founding, the custom tailor and shirtmaker defected to another life, and Lanvin bespoke is now dead. Ninety-five years! They could not put up with five more years in the shadowy recesses of their employer, a small, ever-shrinking habitat, where I hoped their remaining an afterthought would shelter them from corporate extinction, and round out a century.

The least of all casualties, for what ended is just an idea, the idea of a permanence, a waning best, a classic. For those who want the concrete, various lines of ready-to-wear remain. Lanvin was one of the classic old guard of tailors that the legendary Groupe des Cinq, including Camps, rebelled against in the 1950s. Today, whether rebel or classicist, what is left of bespoke rallies together – tailors from the supposed old guard migrate to those former iconoclast hellions, and vice versa.

The least of all casualties, like an arms dealer dying, finally, in a Harley Street clinic. No reason to weep for him, when we live among the casualties he and his colleagues may have wrought, his financial heirs likely preferring fleece vests, athleisure, performative populism. What the rest of us inherit is casualty, this daydream’s passing worthy of no more than a moment’s thoughtful pause in our current nightmares. At least allow it that.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, March 7, 2021

Job Market Picks Up Strength (NYT) Driven by unexpectedly large job gains at the nation’s restaurants and bars, the labor market picked up strength in February, raising hopes that the economic recovery was taking hold more firmly. All told, employers added 379,000 jobs, the government reported Friday, the strongest showing since October. The increase, as vaccination efforts ramped up and restrictions on businesses eased, followed a deep loss in December and a modest rise in January. But the February pace was still far short of the gains recorded from late spring to early fall as the pandemic’s sudden stranglehold loosened. There are roughly 9.5 million fewer jobs than a year ago, and a year’s worth of lost opportunities—as many as two million jobs that would most likely have been created if previous hiring trends had continued. Congress is considering a $1.9 trillion package of pandemic relief intended to carry struggling households and businesses through the coming months.

Can Biden Keep Coal Country From Becoming a ‘Ghost Town’? (NYT) From a porch in Martin County, Ky., in 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson declared a war on poverty. Decades later, President Barack Obama dedicated millions of dollars to work force development projects in Appalachia. President Donald J. Trump even pledged the impossible: a revival of the region’s faltering coal industry. President Biden is talking big, too, assuring residents that his climate plan will also create well-paying jobs there. But after generations of promises, communities once reliant on coal mining are understandably skeptical. Administration after administration has tried to bring the region sustained prosperity, yet many communities remain on the brink. In eastern Kentucky, the poverty rate in several counties exceeds 30 percent. Unemployment is among the highest in the nation. And an outward migration over several decades has cut the populations of some counties nearly in half, leaving local governments strapped for tax revenue and struggling to fund essential services. “Fifty years from now, this could be a ghost town,” said former Gov. Paul E. Patton, an eastern Kentucky native. “That’s my prediction.”

Hyperinflation Pushes Venezuela to Print 1,000,000-Bolivar Bills (Bloomberg) Venezuela said it will introduce new large-denomination bolivar notes as hyperinflation renders most bills worthless, forcing citizens to turn to the U.S. dollar for everyday transactions. The country’s central bank posted a statement on its website Friday saying it would begin circulating the new 200,000, 500,000 and 1,000,000 bills to “fulfill the current economy’s requirements” without providing further details. The 1,000,000 note—the largest in the nation’s history—is worth only $0.53 cents. As Venezuela’s economy shrank for a seventh straight year in 2020, the government turned a blind eye to a growing number of dollar transactions, kick-started by rolling power outages that prevented credit and debit card purchases and fostered the use of cash. About 66% of transactions across the country are estimated to be made in foreign currency, according to Ecoanalitica. While the dollar has gained ground, Venezuelans continue to rely on bolivar bills for public transportation and to purchase subsidized fuel. The Caracas subway recently issued an electronic payment system after it routinely stopped charging passengers due to cash shortages.

Protesters and Police Clash in Paraguay Amid Anger Over Pandemic Response (Reuters) Protesters clashed with the police in Paraguay’s capital, Asunción, late on Friday as anger over the government’s handling of the coronavirus crisis boiled onto the streets and forced the resignation of the country’s top health official. Security forces fired rubber bullets and tear gas at hundreds of demonstrators who had gathered around the Congress building, while protesters broke down security barriers, burned road barricades and threw stones at the police. The protests broke out amid growing outrage as coronavirus infections hit record levels and hospitals verged on collapse throughout Paraguay.

UK COVID-19 lockdown provides boom towns for rats (Deutsche Welle) Rats, and other members of the rodent family, have a lousy reputation. They crop up regularly in our everyday language to describe bleak situations and sentiments (Rats!, caught in a rat race, someone with rat-like features—you get the drift). They seem to be omnipresent in the best of times, but now, they’re having a, er, field day. In London and other major cities across the UK, rat sightings have soared during the pandemic. The British Pest Control Association (BPCA), which represents 700 vermin catchers across the country, said its members reported a 51% hike in rodent activity during the first lockdown last spring, and a 78% increase in November after the next lockdown. Typically, rats avoid humans and make drains and sewers their homes. However, as a result of shuttered businesses and deserted high streets, the creatures are out in full force and making restaurants, pubs and empty buildings their new habitat as they look for other sources to satisfy their dietary needs. “It seems their lifestyle patterns are changing. Rats, in particular, are also becoming more visible in areas of population. With less footfall across cities and towns, there is less associated food waste being left in bins and on the floor. Also, bin areas behind restaurants and pubs are empty and free of food waste making it unavailable for the local rat population,” Natalie Bungay, technical officer with the BPCA, told DW via email. As a result, rats are also moving further afield to find other food sources. “Rats seem to be moving from cities closer to residential areas, where we’re still filling our bins with food waste,” says Bungay.

Brexit Antagonism Escalates as EU, U.K. Go Another Round (Bloomberg) When the U.K. and European Union shook hands on a trade deal late last year, few expected the new relationship to be plain sailing. And as with many divorces, antagonism between the sides has refused to fade. Among the most sensitive issues is Northern Ireland, and tensions ramped up considerably this week when the U.K. announced it will ignore some crucial obligations under the Brexit deal and the EU responded with a dramatic threat of legal action. With Prime Minister Boris Johnson already under pressure from members of his own party to rip up the Northern Ireland deal, the risk is a further escalation that erodes relations. That could have spillovers far beyond politics, and the ongoing saga is a frustration for business. The U.K.’s huge finance industry, for example, is seeing the potential for beneficial trade agreements being slowly whittled away by endless political spats.

Pope, top Iraq Shiite cleric hold historic, symbolic meeting (AP) Pope Francis and Iraq’s top Shiite cleric delivered a powerful message of peaceful coexistence Saturday, urging Muslims in the war-weary Arab nation to embrace Iraq’s long-beleaguered Christian minority during an historic meeting in the holy city of Najaf. Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani said religious authorities have a role in protecting Iraq’s Christians, and that Christians should live in peace and enjoy the same rights as other Iraqis. The Vatican said Francis thanked al-Sistani for having “raised his voice in defense of the weakest and most persecuted” during some of the most violent times in Iraq’s recent history. Al-Sistani, 90, is one of the most senior clerics in Shiite Islam and his rare but powerful political interventions have helped shape present-day Iraq. He is a deeply revered figure in Shiite-majority Iraq and his opinions on religious and other matters are sought by Shiites worldwide. The historic meeting in al-Sistani’s humble home was months in the making, with every detail painstakingly discussed and negotiated between the ayatollah’s office and the Vatican. The “very positive” meeting lasted a total of 40 minutes, said a religious official in Najaf.

A decade after Fukushima nuclear disaster, contaminated water symbolizes Japan’s struggles (Washington Post) Beside the ruins of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant, more than 1,000 huge metal tanks loom in silent testament to one of the worst nuclear disasters in history, the meltdown of three nuclear reactors 10 years ago this month. The tanks contain nearly 1.25 million tons of cooling water from the 2011 disaster and groundwater seepage over the years—equivalent to around 500 Olympic-size swimming pools—most of it still dangerously radioactive. Running out of space to build more tanks, the government wants to gradually release the water into the sea—after it has been decontaminated and diluted—over the next three decades or more. Even though a formal decision has yet to be announced, the government and the Tokyo Electric Power Co. (TEPCO) have insisted that an ocean release is their preferred solution and that it is perfectly safe. The only thing holding them back appears to be the Olympics and the bad publicity it could generate before the Games begin in July, experts say. The idea of releasing the water has infuriated Fukushima’s fishing community, only now getting back on its feet after taking a battering in the wake of the 2011 disaster and the subsequent ocean contamination. Also angry is South Korea, even though it is more than 600 miles away on the other side of Japan.

Hong Kong reforms prevent ‘dictatorship of the majority’, pro-Beijing lawmaker says (Reuters) China’s proposal for Hong Kong electoral reforms could prevent a “dictatorship of the majority”, pro-Beijing Hong Kong lawmaker Martin Liao told Reuters on Saturday. The Chinese parliament is discussing plans to overhaul Hong Kong’s electoral system to ensure Beijing loyalists are in charge. Hong Kong representatives, in Beijing for an annual session, say the change is necessary and desirable. “Many people in Hong Kong are politically immature,” Liao, who sits on both Hong Kong’s and China’s legislature, said in a telephone interview. “They think ‘one man one vote’ is the best thing, and they take advice from countries that don’t even have ‘one man one vote’,” Liao said, referring to how neither the U.S. President nor the British Prime Minister is elected by a popular vote. The proposed changes, which include expanding the city’s Election Committee from 1,200 to 1,500 people and expanding the city’s Legislative Council from 70 to 90 seats, will make Hong Kong’s electoral system more “representative”, and less prone to “dictatorship of the majority”, Liao added. Critics say that Beijing would be able to stack the two bodies with even more pro-establishment members, to gain the numerical superiority needed to influence important decisions such as the election of the city’s Chief Executive, leaving Hong Kong voters with less direct say in who they want to lead them.

Myanmar forces fire tear gas, stun grenades on protest as U.N. envoy calls for action (Reuters) Myanmar security forces used tear gas and stun grenades to break up a protest in Yangon on Saturday, just hours after a United Nations special envoy called on the Security Council to take action against the ruling junta for the killings of protesters. The Southeast Asian country has been plunged in turmoil since the military overthrew and detained elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi on Feb. 1, with daily protests and strikes that have choked business and paralysed administration. More than 50 protesters have been killed since the coup, according to the United Nations—at least 38 on Wednesday alone. The army says it has been restrained in stopping the protests, but has said it will not allow them to threaten stability.

Lebanon on edge as protests persist, caretaker PM pleads for new government (Reuters) Demonstrators blocked various roadways across Lebanon for the fifth day in a row on Saturday, and a heavy army presence filled parts of the capital as anger simmered over the country’s economic downturn. Caretaker Prime Minister Hassan Diab threatened in a speech earlier in the day to stop performing his duties to pressure politicians to form a new government. Groups of protesters have been burning tyres daily to block roads since the Lebanese currency tumbled to a new low on Tuesday, enraging a population long horrified by the country’s financial meltdown. Lebanon’s financial crisis, which erupted in 2019, has wiped out jobs, raised warnings of growing hunger and locked people out of their bank deposits. A new cabinet could implement reforms needed to trigger billions of dollars of international aid.

Electricity, time, and Bitcoin (The Baffler) In early 2018, millions of digital clocks across Europe began falling behind time. Few took notice at first as slight disruptions in the power supply caused bedside alarms and oven timers running on the frequency of electric current to begin lagging. Three minutes were lost in January, three more in February. In March, the Brussels-based European Network of Transmission System Operators of Electricity issued an apology. Whoever was causing the unprecedented power shortages “must cease”—but, until they did, the thirty-six nations plugged into Europe’s common electric grid were tasked with ratcheting up their voltage frequencies to speed the continent’s clocks back up. European authorities soon traced the power fluctuations to North Kosovo, a region commonly described as one of Europe’s last ganglands. Since 2015, its major city, Mitrovica, has been under the control of Srpska Lista, a mafia masquerading as a political party. Around the time Srpska came to power, North Kosovo’s electricity consumption surged. Officials at the Kosovo Electricity Supply Company in Prishtina, Kosovo’s capital city, told me that the region now requires 20 percent more power than it did five years ago. Eventually, it became clear why: across the region, from the shabby apartment blocks of Mitrovica to the cellars of mountain villages, Bitcoin and Ethereum rigs were humming away, fueling a shadow economy of cryptocurrency manufacturing.

[trulycertain]

I’m going to talk about which ending I chose for Blood & Wine. And oh my, I might have some unpopular opinions on this. *sigh* This is critical of both Syanna and Dettlaff, both of whose characters I enjoy, sorta by necessity.

All right: I killed Dettlaff, and Syanna lived. Now, some people seem to portray Syanna as a bigger danger than Dettlaff, and while I can understand personal dislike of her... just looking at the maths, the idea that she’s more dangerous than him is utterly confusing to me. I understand that she and Dettlaff are meant to be dark mirrors of each other (heck, just look at the excellent dress senses, colour co-ordination is always Dramatically Significant Serious Business). And yes, I promise I understand that fantasy narratives and tragedy tropes are not meant to map onto real-life morality and criminal justice (crikey, I would not want to live in Geralt’s world). And I find them both fascinating characters and enjoy them. And I want to nick their costumes.

But putting ‘em side by side:

Syanna was definitely morally reprehensible. And yes, I do think she was using Dettlaff from the beginning - or rather that she was never in love with him. Attracted to him, at the start, maybe. And yes, she let cruelty make her cruel - but isn’t that a major thing in Witcher ‘verse? Heck, even Geralt does that sometimes, and can be a difficult person, and has killed people who have abused him. But yes, she was a murdering ransacking bandit who signed off on people raping and pillaging, and that was the biggest crime that stood out to me. And yes, she’s shown to be able to manipulate the hell out of people and be a bit of a tyrant, which is a bloody dangerous sort of power. (This is as consistent as Dettlaff’s “angry rage mode” backstory - even as a kid, she manipulated a peer into killing his brother.) The four murders with an attempt at a fifth? Not good. Not good at all. But heck, at least there it was more of a direct, “they mistreated me.” All right and a good way of solving your problems? Nope. Could I get my head round it? Moreso than “I’ll just chuck my rage at an entire city, including women and children, most of whom haven’t done anything to me, to make a point.” 

Dettlaff has always been Angry, much like Syanna. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand “screw humanity, they’re horrible, I’m going to go and live in the woods” (mood)... but he goes far beyond that. He already was getting his claws out and barely holding onto control over someone pushing in front of him in a queue (same, mate, but I don’t nearly murder ‘em). Even Regis, who has a “#1 Dettlaff Fan” shirt and little accompanying foam claw and always puts people on a pedestal, admits that Syanna probably snuck out because Dettlaff wouldn’t have understood a breakup and would have flown into a terrifying rage, and implies this happens often. Nothing about that relationship was healthy. We then see Dettlaff tearing through an entire goddamn bandit camp (much like Regis and Geralt, not saying that’s just Dettlaff) when he thinks they’ve kidnapped his former lover, just at the idea of it. We’ve seen his constantly escalating fury; the city is just the latest victim of it. Regis has already spent a long time at this point trying to show him that humans are equals, are people (the Humanist ring), and the sacking of Beauclair still happens on Dettlaff’s orders. So what happens the next time Dettlaff gets pissed off - and he gets pissed off a lot - looking at patterns? Another city? An attempt at a country?

Both Syanna and Dettlaff seem like they’ve snapped, due to going through some horrific things. Both essentially view people as disposable, which is the major way Dettlaff is a foil for Regis (they have a lot of similarities otherwise; I also suspect this is why Regis, in particular, had to be the one to finish him off - it made emotional as well as worldbuilding sense, in a tragic sort of way). I suspect even in the reconciliation ending, Syanna can’t be trusted, and should probably spend forever in a dungeon or, in the screwed-up feudalistic justice system of Beauclair, die. 

But while Syanna is just one person, and one un-powered person is pretty inefficient at sneaking about and murdering everyone and takes a long time to do it, to the point she manipulated Dettlaff into doing it because he’s essentially a walking WMD...

Detlaff can take down twenty people like it’s nothing in a few swipes, sometimes kills too fast to be visible, and nearly killed Geralt, canonically one of the best Witchers out there. Syanna may be as screwed up as him, but crikey, Dettlaff is legions more dangerous.

And while you can argue that Syanna is the Stregobor here - engineers a situation, uses people as pawns to justify a grievance - the last time Geralt encountered the Curse of the Black Sun, far more people died because he refused to choose the Lesser Evil. In this context, if he doesn’t want to cause civil unrest and risk an ally (Anna) becoming a tyrant, if he wants to make sure fewer people die, and if he’s going on the numbers? Yeah, Syanna is the Lesser Evil. Still pretty darn evil, but... less likely to level a town if someone pisses her off. Sometimes there’s no choice but an upsetting one.

In addition: Someone might say, “What about Regis? He changed. He used to be a right shit, by his own admission. What if that’s Dettlaff in fifty years, or a hundred, or so?” And aye, true - but I think Regis' case was mostly luck. He didn’t run into another, very done higher vampire in his right-shit days, or an exceptional Witcher. I suspect if Geralt hadn’t been about -300 at that point and he’d run into Hedonistic-Shit Regis, well... Yeah, Regis would still have ended up in ashy pieces rethinking his life choices. It was just sheer luck it was a bunch of villagers instead (and poetic justice, I guess). Also, it sounds like Regis’ Humanism took a long time, but was evidently started and some way along by the time he crawled out of the grave, and he’d decided to give up drinking the Ribena of Doom. We don’t see anything that unambiguous with Dettlaff. Dettlaff does, however, have a cooler coat.

[louisishj334]

How to lose $1 million and risk it all again

When Abbas Dayekh was 18 several years aged, he walked confidently to the reception of Sussex Location, London Enterprise University’s primary campus, and asked: “Where can I enrol?” Safety advised him he would have to wait a several years. Dayekh was in the wrong spot. He was in search of Regent’s University London, exactly where his parents experienced sent him to check a BA (Hons) in Worldwide Enterprise with French. Dayekh, ethnically Lebanese, is from Nigeria, the grandson of the textiles’ industrialist. He was sent to the united kingdom to achieve knowledge, then return and insert benefit inside the loved ones business.

Dayekh, CEO and founder of OyaNow, an application-primarily based shipping and delivery service in Nigeria, chuckles within the memory. It’s not the first time he has taken a detour in his life, and it possibly was one of many additional pleasant – and less expensive - events. With no doubt, one of the most tricky was having to notify his mom he experienced shed all her price savings – about $600,000 – that she invested in him to put in place a Beirut branch of distinctive Parisian couture model CLVII in 2012. “It absolutely was a buddy’s store. The purchasers are certainly top quality; elite footballers and these kinds of. It’s obtained a particular image.

“I ran CLVII notion capital for about a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started heading off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati holidaymakers – my buyers – they went household and didn’t return. I used to be trapped with a great deal of expensive couture and no funds”

I ran CLVII for around a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started off going off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati travellers – my prospects – they went residence and didn’t come back. I was stuck which has a large amount of pricey couture and no dollars. Involving my mom’s price savings, a buddy’s financial commitment of about $two hundred,000 and the money I’d expended in that two-year period, I’d managed to lose $one million.

‘Not a tech dude’

While Dayekh, from Kano in Nigeria’s northern province, felt upset that he’d Enable down his mom, his initial – and biggest – entrepreneurial flop did nothing at all to dampen his enthusiasm for the entrepreneurial route and his zeal to triumph. In actual fact, he reflects that it spurred him on to at some point found OyaNow, an application-primarily based logistics enterprise aiding enterprises to achieve Nigeria’s progressively related populace of just about 200 million by trustworthy and rapidly previous-mile shipping and delivery.

This Regardless of the simple fact Dayekh promises to generally be “by no means a tech man”. He laughs: “I'm able to’t code.” Dayekh has gained the Persons’s Decision Award while in the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual category at this calendar year’s Serious Innovation Awards (RIA) in recognition of his dogged perseverance to succeed Even with there becoming no fantastic rationale that he should really.

When he had The theory for OyaNow, he was pretty much broke, acquiring returned from Shanghai the place for 9 months he had been performing being an outsourcing broker for just a number of Nigerian clientele he’d managed to secure. “They had been tiny contracts and Therefore the Fee was little,” he claims. “I had return to Abuja for being with my mom and determine what I had been gonna do with my life. I barely experienced any revenue, but I nonetheless realized I used to be about to do my own factor.”

It transpired to him that buyer self esteem in Nigeria was zero. “There was no rely on in the market in Nigeria and not Considerably purchaser treatment possibly. I thought of the accomplishment of foods shipping expert services in Europe and The us like Deliveroo and Uber Eats. Nigeria is probably one of many final nations around the world on this planet with such a big inhabitants that remains so underdeveloped. I observed that hole as a huge possibility.”

But who was about to buy the coders? And to the bikes? In fact – this was Africa, not Europe. Banks don’t give financial loans to people with no property. Dayekh was fortuitous to have a network of Intercontinental experts and traders he cultivated from having long gone to one of the better boarding schools in the world in Switzerland. A friend came by with a few seed income Which paid out for creating the app and the main motorbikes.

Ideal time, right solution, proper place

“I realized This may be a really diverse proposition from Deliveroo and Uber Eats. For 1, we would want to supply total pastoral care to our riders – whom we contact Entrepreneurs – mainly because they could be coming from all around the country. We would have to give them a destination to Are living. They would be the brand. I needed to be sure that I did all the things I could to empower them for being entirely engaged in OyaNow and assist the manufacturer to accomplish its key performance indicators of reliability, usefulness and high quality of assistance usually.

“My uncles felt I were born which has a silver spoon in my mouth Which I'd volume to nothing exterior the relatives small business. I'd a burning desire to establish them Improper and clearly show the entire world I could allow it to be by myself”

OyaNow is definitely an abbreviation of the phrase indicating “we've been coming” in Nigerian slang English. It really is widely recognized throughout ethnic teams and tribes and was a great match with the operating product and to the cultural context. It soft released in Abuja, in advance of launching in Kano after which Lagos.

Starting up off to be a foods shipping service about 3 many years ago, OyaNow obtained an sudden fillip within the Covid-19 pandemic which noticed desire for its very last-mile supply provider go with the roof. Now, it delivers Pretty much anything at all that may be shipped and OyaNow has business associations with lots of factories across the country.

The organization now has about eighty five bikes and vans as well as other vehicles, microinvestors which is eyeing the subsequent stage of enlargement in other nations in Africa, but Dayekh can’t say too a great deal more at this time. The serial innovator also has enterprise passions in medical marijuana and hemp in Malawi by way of a Swiss-based startup called House Africa. Previously this yr, Malawi legalised the expanding, promoting and exporting of cannabis for professional medical use.

“Winning this award – the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual Award – I love it! It pleases me in excess of if I had been to generally be manufactured President of America! It appears that evidently I do new points on a regular basis. But, the truth is, there is a pattern. Africa is often a tough area to know if You aren't from listed here. Western organizations see likely during the economies here but are nervous to generate a transfer due to perception of danger and a lack of certainty.

I've realised that I may be that bridge that inbound links Africa With all the West. It is a fairly distinctive situation to be in and I am just getting started.”

six tips about entrepreneurship from OyaNow founder Abbas Dayekh

Being an entrepreneur seriously isn’t straightforward. You require conviction and dedication. It’s probably a cliche but You can not succeed devoid of it. It’s a lonely highway. You may get dangers. You will upset the established order, and people don’t like that. Men and women like it any time you fall short. Personally, when I turn into devoted to a thing, no one can cease me.

The most important enterprise lesson I've discovered was the four Ps: value, products, promotion and spot. They're the key elements for achievement. OyaNow delivers all 4 together beautifully.

Failure is Studying and almost nothing to become ashamed of. Be honest with your self about what went Mistaken and go forward, striving not to generate precisely the same mistakes once more.

Entrepreneurship can be difficult on your own mental health and fitness. You can find every day considerations about cashflow, and regardless of whether you'll have enough funds to pay your charges; to pay your employees. Even now, I put up with panic assaults. It might be very difficult to repeatedly need to project a façade of strength for your personnel, buyers and the market when deep down you don’t know wherever your following tranche of cash will originate from to maintain heading. Be sincere with oneself about whether or not you can handle this strain.

Any time you expand, empower your personnel. They can be your small business. They will be the distinction between accomplishment and failure ultimately. Be humble as a pacesetter and hear your staff. Apologise for the mistakes. They must invest in into your eyesight. Empower them to co-create that eyesight mainly because it evolves.

Use a disproportionate number of Gals in the management staff. Females tend to be a lot less self-centred and aggressive. Coming from the patriarchal household business enterprise dominated by warring factions, I wish to be surrounded by Girls, who often carry balance and direct for your greater great rather then individual acquire.

The Real Innovation Awards is undoubtedly an once-a-year ceremony celebrating business innovation all over the world, hosted via the London Business Faculty’s Institute of Innovation and Entrepreneurship (IIE). To determine this year’s celebration occurring on ten December 2020 and hear insights on ‘Innovating in Adversity’ sign up below.

[pwpoetry]

Q&A with Dan Beachy-Quick

M: Variations on Dawn and Dusk came out from Omnidawn last year and was longlisted for the National Book Award. Can you talk a bit about this unusual project?

D: Much of that book is a deeply private project that I had planned to share with just a few friends. The book came out of living in Marfa for a month. I really fell in love with it. I'd always wanted to show it to my wife, and we decided two summers ago that for our anniversary, we would just get a cheap flight to El Paso and rent a car and go out there for a few days. So, we went to the Chinati foundation, and I was struck by the visceral and aesthetic experience of the Robert Irwin installation untitled (dawn to dusk), the particular way of being inside this building. The light coming in from the 18 windows was in this kind of perfect square. And I walked from square to square feeling this fundamental element we never think about, by which we see all that we see. And it felt just extraordinarily unexpected and humbling and generous in its ambition to me, and to note that while I stepped into these squares, my body was the thing that was blocking the light. Every square seemed not like a sequence, but a way of having this opportunity to begin again, but begin more truly in some way. We probably spent two hours there and I went away deeply affected. So, I wrote this poem that would try to mimic not just the overall pattern of the building but those squares of light.

M: Did you work on Arrows, out next month from Tupelo Press, alongside it? 

D: Yes, Arrows is a group of poems I’ve been writing since around 2011, just very patiently building and thinking through this evolving sense of what I care most about over this lifetime spent writing poetry. During those years, I also started studying ancient Greek and putting myself into a language that, at some level, has at its roots the very source of whatever consciousness and imagination are. Arrows is really trying to figure out how to open up to these very ancient ways of thinking and to ask the questions again that we've always been asking.

M: Apart from ancient Greek, are there any other sort of sources of influence that you feel informed the collection?

D: I think because the ancient brings in the political in unexpected ways that the issues that we have with violence and art's relationship to violence aren't tied to the particular cultural moment in a way we might think they are. There’s a section in the book of nine poems titled “Drone” that were really written over the summer of 2015 or 2016, during a lot of the escalation of drone strikes in the Middle East. There are poems that are erasures from the New York Times’ drone strike coverage. I was also reading a book on raising bees, because a dear friend had gotten hives. The larger collection is trying to attend to the way in which nature can give us knowledge about itself.

M: You write beautiful essays on poetry (and always seem to be working on multiple projects!). Are you working on any non-fiction at the moment?

D: I just worked on an essay on Moby Dick for a Melville companion that will be coming out, but it’s hard to write prose at the moment. I am two years into working on a new set of poems I’m feeling deeply engaged by, and I’m working on translations from the ancient Greek.

[lovebitesimagines]

‘God I’ve missed you’- Esme Shelby.

Prompt #13 with Esme and John Shelby.

I've written this from Esme’s POV, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. It’s something different than what I'm used too, but I quite liked writing this way. Esme is such a cool character, and I love her and John together. Thank you to anon for requesting this!

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Warnings: None.

Pairing: Esme x John.

Word count: 1.4k

When I was a little girl, I always dreamt of a white wedding. I pictured crowds of my family and friends, stood watching me proudly as I was given away to my soulmate. I drew endless sketches of my white dress, the flowers I would have picked, what my groom would have looked like. I always had a talent for art, spending countless hours creating drawings upon drawings.

           I was ten years old when I discovered men didn’t appreciate a talented woman, one who had her own mind and dreams. I was soon silenced, my artistic potential going to waste, like half of Birmingham. I was forced to do as men wished, following the demands that would often be cruelly thrown my way. I was given no choice, apart from ‘shut the fuck up or you’ll get what’s coming to you’.

           That threat worked until I was sixteen. I had enough of being suppressed. I had words, countless words and ideas that I wanted to verbalise, to bring out into the world. I wanted to paint Birmingham with my imagination, I wanted to see the world.

           ‘Too wild, they said. She’s untameable, we don’t know what to do with her’. I’ve heard all of that before, and I can’t help but feel proud of the words they throw at me, of the colours they paint me in. When I turned twenty, even I had to admit that perhaps my rebellious nature was starting to get out of hand. But I loved it. I hated being tied down, forced to be an uncharacteristically soundless vessel of a woman.

           I thought I had everything under control. I thought that I, Esme Lee, could handle anything my family threw my way. That was until they started launching the words ‘marriage’ and ‘Shelby’ at me. By Christ I panicked. I always thought that I would get to pick who I got married too. I had imagined a wild romance, one for the ages that they would write about one day in history books. I was foolish.

           I had heard about the Shelbys’ before. You would have had to be living underneath a rock to escape that name. My family had been at war with them, for as long as I could remember. It was a stupid, pointless argument which had continued to escalate. Started by men, but that was no surprise. The Shelby family didn’t scare me, despite the fact that they stuck razor blades in their caps. I have seen men worse than them. Far worse.

           Now my family were arranging my marriage, to one of the Shelby brothers, as means of making a truce. It was hilarious really, that I was their last resort. I guess it was a win-win situation for my them though. They’d have peace from both The Peaky Blinders, and me.

           I wasn’t allowed to know who my future husband was, the only sighting I’ll be having of him is when we make our vows. Yet I was never nervous, never apprehensive of what was to come. A calm washed over me, as I kneeled beside my future husband. I remember how I felt when I first laid eyes upon him. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was immediately entranced by his baby blue eyes, and childish grin. I could instantly tell that we were alike, me and him. His name still easily rolls of my tongue, leaving a burning sensation in my mouth. John Michael Shelby.

           I was surprised not only by how well I fitted into life in Small Heath, but also how easily I took to marriage. John helped make it easy. We worked together, me and him. Two lost souls battling together against the darkness of the world. We were magnetised towards each other, working in perfect synchronisation.

           That’s why, every time John would leave for business, I would not be able to sleep. My mind would be picturing the darkest things that could happen to him. Each situation cruelly taunting me, replaying in my mind like a badly filmed movie. That’s where I was now, watching the hands on the clock slowly turn, announcing it was officially two in the morning.

           I’ve already bitten my nails down to short little stubs, gnawing at the skin on my fingertips. It is a nervous habit of mine, one that I had sworn countless amounts of times that I would break. I ran out of cigarettes almost an hour ago, and I refused each drink Polly offered me. I want my mind to be clear, not fussy, just in case John needed me.

           I’m unable to sit still. The chair I’m sat on rocking slightly, as I bounce my knee up and down. I’m perched near the window. I want to be able to see them walk down that street, their cocky swagger proving that everything will be okay. I can see Polly throw me the occasional annoyed glance, growing frustrated at the sound of my foot constantly tapping against her wooden floor. But she doesn’t say anything. She is waiting for them too.

           Grace is far more relaxed than us. If she is nervous, she does a damn good job of hiding it, her face a mask of calm. She busies herself, with making us all tea. The sound of china teacups rattling against the tray seems to tip Polly over the edge.

“Fuck off with the tea. Will do us no good if they don’t come back” Pol snaps, her eyes flashing angrily at Grace as she lights a cigarette. Her and Grace have never really gotten along, not since it was revealed that she was an agent of the crown. She had only accepted her, for Tommys’ sake.

“They will come back Pol. They always do” Grace murmured, her Irish accent reminding me of home. She placed the tray upon the coffee table, ignoring Pol’s outburst, pouring us all a cup. I take mine of her, smiling gratefully, before resuming my position at the window, eyes firmly placed upon the goings on outside. I take a sip of the tea, the warm liquid running sweetly down my throat.

           It’s raining outside, and I softly curse the mist that blurs my vision. The streetlamps went off hours ago, the only light coming from the moonlight. I strain my eyes to see out in the shadows, and I’m met with only darkness.

           I knew it was a bad idea, this meeting with Selbini. That man was nothing but trouble, an incredibly menacing blight upon society. I knew that he would stop at nothing to get his own way, to get what he wanted. I just hoped that John wouldn’t run his mouth and wouldn’t act stupid. I hoped that if he did, Tommy had the right words to say or Arthur hit them hard enough.

“Maybe it’s time you get to bed Esme. It will do you no good. Not in your condition” Grace says softly from behind me, and I can sense her concern drowning me. I shake my head. There is no way in Hell I’m going to bed, not until my John gets home.

“Not until he walks through the door” I whisper, my hands instinctively falling upon my bump. If I try hard enough, I can feel the small flurry of kicks against my stomach. I’m six months gone, enough to have a noticeable bump now. I look outside again, my fingers tracing patterns upon my stomach.

           I’m not sure how much time has passed, until I see him. He’s the last to walk through the moonlight, my heart stopping until I see him. I jump up, startling Pol and Grace.

“They’re back!” my voice is high-pitched with excitement, as I fly towards the front door. I’m the first one there, almost ripping the door from its hinges as I open it. I push past Tommy, Arthur and Michael, until I see him.

“Hello darling!” John chuckles, opening his arms out for me. I run into them, holding his head in my hands, my eyes scanning over his appearance in search of any injuries. He notices this, and it only makes him smile more. “I’m fine love. I’m fine”.

           I press my lips against his, melting at the familiar warmth it brings me. He runs my tongue along my lips, and I grant him entrance. I don’t care about the rain that soaks us both through. I only care about the fact that my John is home. He’s home safe and sound, where he belongs. We pull apart after a few, brief moments, our eyes fixed upon each other.

“God I’ve missed you”

[antoine-roquentin]

On July 3, the International Monetary Fund approved a $6 billion bailout package to help “return sustainable growth” to Pakistan’s economy. Throughout the deal spanning 39 months, the IMF will review Pakistan’s progress on a quarterly basis. As part of the agreement, $1 billion has been released to Pakistan.

This is the 13th IMF bailout for Pakistan, with the Fund looking toward the correction of “structural imbalances” in the country. In this regard, the IMF had announced in the negotiations over the past couple of months that Islamabad would have to increase taxation in order to repay external debt and increase foreign exchange reserves.

Details of the agreement reveal the targets that have been set for Pakistan, requiring the country to increase the foreign exchange reserves from the current $6.824 billion to $11.187 billion next year. As a result, the country’s net reserves are expected to increase from negative $17.7 billion to negative $10.8 billion over the same period.

The IMF has further asked Pakistan to pay $37.359 billion in external debt within the duration of the IMF bailout deal. Islamabad owes $14.682 billion of this figure to Beijing, largely due to the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC).

The increase in taxation required by the IMF was visible in this fiscal year’s financial budget, with the government increasing the Federal Board of Revenue’s (FBR) tax collection target from 3.94 trillion Pakistani rupees ($25 billion) to 5.5 trillion rupees. The documents further reveal that over the next two years of the bailout package, additional 1.5 trillion rupee and 1.31 trillion rupee hikes in revenue collection have been scheduled.

Even before the budget was passed, the government had already implemented steps to enhance taxation, with hikes in the price of petrol and electricity. Government officials confirm that further hikes are expected next month.

In addition to the heavy taxation, another precondition of the IMF bailout was the devaluation of the Pakistani currency, which the Fund deemed to be artificially valued. With the IMF calling for a “market determined” value of the Pakistani currency, the rupee has lost over half its value since December 2017, resulting in the inflation rate reaching a five-year high at 9.4 percent in April, and expected to rise to over 13 percent, as per the Fund’s forecast.

The All Pakistan Anjuman-e-Tajran (meaning “trader’s association”) calling a nationwide strike is one example of the impact that the rise in taxation has had on local industries. As a result, the working class in Pakistan is rising up against what it calls the “IMF’s imperialistic takeover” of the country.

“[The IMF] package is littered with conditionalities that are putting [a] burden on the lives of ordinary people. Pakistani people and traders have no capacity to pay taxes demanded by the IMF,” Farooq Tariq, spokesperson and the former general secretary of the Awami Workers’ Party, told The Diplomat.

“As part of the package, the IMF installed its own ‘intelligent’ people on key posts. Not only does it serve the IMF’s purpose of increasing its stranglehold over the country, it reflects a total lack of confidence in PTI’s capacity to do the job,” Tariq added. PTI refers to Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, the current ruling party of the country.

Multiple interviews with officials in the Finance Ministry reveal that the appointments of former IMF mission chief Reza Baqir as the governor of the State Bank of Pakistan and former Finance Minister Abdul Hafeez Shaikh as the prime minister’s adviser on finance were enforced by the IMF in the lead up  to the bailout agreement.

When asked, a senior government official told The Diplomat that the IMF forced the issue to install “its own men” amid continued deadlock with former Finance Minister Asad Umar. The IMF’s pressure further escalated after it was revealed that the entirety of the loan Pakistan received from Saudi Arabia and the UAE at the turn of the year was spent to prevent the currency market from crashing.

Senior financial journalist and analyst at FX Empire Shahab Jafry questions the manner in which the IMF has forced the government to manage the local currency’s valuation.

“The currency market was going haywire, and you had to dump the [U.S.] dollar to buy the rupees – to support the local currency. The government says it is letting the rupee free float – it can’t let that happen, the country will collapse in 48 hours,” he told The Diplomat.

“The currency has an annual 5 percent depreciation against the dollar. I don’t see the rupee stabilizing because I don’t see the economy stabilizing. In the modern day, in competitive floating currencies, you have to have a very strong export revenue generation to have a stable currency – or oil reserves, because you are prone to imports and the fluctuation of commodities and currencies can crash markets,” Jafry added.

Observers note the usual IMF pattern in its current dealings with Pakistan, with the Fund employing trusted people in countries where there is large-scale misappropriation of funds obtained from international institutions.

Abdul Hafeez Shaikh, the PM’s financial adviser, was also part of the team that negotiated the 11th bailout package with the IMF as the finance minister during the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) rule from 2008 to 2013.

Last month, an entire inquiry commission was formed to probe the alleged corrupt practices of the PPP and the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz over the past decade. While many see it as an attempt to audit the funding received in the past, others see it as a maneuver led by the current ruling party, the PTI, to victimize its political opponents with the help of the Pakistan Army.

Farooq Tariq maintains that the military establishment has had a role to play in the aggravation of the economy, and the PTI isn’t the first party to seek the Army’s help in maintaining the vicious circle of debt for Pakistan.

“Pakistan goes to the IMF every few years because of its ruling political parties’ inability to run the economy. The reason is very simple: military and debt expenses. Both take up over half of the national budget at present. The successive governments have bowed down to the pressures of the generals and the creditors not to reduce these two unproductive expenditures,” he said.

Where the Army bolsters particular parties to safeguard its economic interests, the IMF wants Pakistan to pursue certain geopolitical interests. For many, the bailout agreement reveals that instead of economic reforms, geostrategic interests are at the heart of the deal.

“The IMF package is a straitjacket for Pakistan’s economy. The IMF document illustrates a very simplistic thought process,” economist and political scientist Farrukh Saleem, the PTI government’s former spokesperson on energy and economy, told The Diplomat.

“They say the budget deficit is extremely high, the solution is to increase the revenue by 45 percent. How exactly? It’s a shrinking economy. Similarly, they say the trade deficit is extremely high, and then devalue the rupee. The IMF isn’t trying to solve Pakistan’s problems at all, the package has zero reforms – be it power, budget deficit, or trade deficit. After all, the IMF is not a purely economic institute, it’s a political institute as well,” Saleem added.

The former spokesperson maintains that the IMF is advancing U.S. security interests in the region by using the bailout package to ensure Islamabad’s compliance. He refers to this year’s WikiLeaks document “Army Special Operations Forces Unconventional Warfare,” originally written in September 2008, as evidence of how the IMF and World Bank are used to serve U.S. regional goals.

Lieutenant-General Talat Masood, former secretary of Pakistan’s Ministry of Defense Production, says there are obvious U.S. goals that the IMF is looking to fulfill.

“They would like to control our nuclear development. They don’t want us to spend on conventional forces and try to match India. They want us to focus on the economy. They don’t want us to use Lashkar-e-Taiba [LeT] and others to destabilize India and Afghanistan. Also, CPEC and our relationship with China is too strong for their liking. They want us to contribute significantly in the Afghan peace process by pushing the Taliban,” Masood told The Diplomat.

Masood believes the recent arrest of LeT chief Hafiz Saeed, in the lead up to Prime Minister Imran Khan’s visit to the United States, underlines that Islamabad has succumbed to the American demands. But Masood is also critical of Pakistan’s own policymaking, which renders it vulnerable to external pressure.

“Pakistan’s policies are so shallow and aren’t based on any foundational principles, and hence can’t be defended. It’s a weakness of policy and the internal structure of Pakistan that they have to succumb to external pressure,” he adds.

[lovemesomesurveys]

How many times have you ever ridden an elephant? Zero. Do you like cobblers? No. I don’t like fruit pies or things like that. What do you think about lord of the Rings? Not my thing. What kind of cup did you last drink out of? It’s a Disney glass. We have a few of them and each one has different Disney facts and pictures on them. Do you currently have any cuts or scrapes? Yes, on my right middle finger knuckle. I keep picking the scab. :X

Did you like Barney as a child? I was obSESSED with Barney. Probably annoyingly so to my parents with the songs haha. I remember this Barney in concert special that aired that my mom videotaped for me (I’m old, there was no DVR) that I watched over and over.  What color vacuum do you use? Our vacuum is black. Do you have a lot of clothes hangers in your house? Yeah. Have you ever been in a Latin class? No. Have you ever had bubble gum stuck in your hair? Yes. I fell asleep once with gum as a kid and it fell out of my mouth and into my hair. Is there any pet hair stuck to your clothing? Yeah. What do you smell? Nothing at the moment. Have you ever watched The Gremlins? Nah. Looks kinda ridiculous in my opinion lol. What is your favorite type of seashell? I don’t have a favorite type in particular.  Do you love 3-D movies? Nah. It’s annoying as someone who wears glasses to try and wear the 3D glasses cause I have to put those over my own and yeah. I’d just rather not deal with it. Plus, except for in some cases, it doesn’t really add much anyway. Have you ever used Proactiv? Yeah. Is your cell on charge? No. Do you like dirt or sand better? I’ll say sand only cause I associate that with the beach, which I love. When’s the last time you had a hamburger? A few weeks ago. Do you own an iHome? Not anymore, but I used to. Do you own a BEST FRIEND charm or figurine? What’s a best friend figurine? lol that sounds weird. Anyway, no, I don’t have either of those. What do you think about rainbows? I think they’re very pretty. Are you wearing anything on your head right now? Nope. Are you watching cartoons? No. I’m watching Catfish. Do you own a pet spider? EW NOOOO. Do you like mouthwash? It’s too strong and irritating for my mouth. Have you ever used a Ped-Egg? No. Ew, I’ve seen the commercial for that and it makes me gag cause it shows all the dead skin the person scraped from their foot. Blech. Do you like Olay products? I don’t use any. Have you ever gone on a cruise? No. They sound fun in theory, but actually going on one would be terrifying. The idea of just being out in the middle of the freaking ocean...sljfdkfjsldfk Do you use green pens? I have before, but no not regularly. I like black ink pens. Do you own anything that has a striped pattern on it? Yeah. Do you watch Wheel of Fortune? Not regularly, but I’ve seen it a few times throughout my life. Are there any fake tattoos on you? No. No real ones either. Can you roll your belly? No. When’s the last time you saw your grandpa? I saw my Papa back in September of last year. I last saw my grandpa in December of 2010 before he passed away. We were by his side when he did. :( Is there a rocking chair in your house? No. Do you call your animals “baby names”? Yeah. She has a ton of nicknames. Why does George Lopez say “I GOT THIS!!” in that voice? *shrug* That’s just his thing.  Do you have homework? No. I’m not in school anymore. Have you ever gone to a Monster Truck show? No. Well, have you ever seen the Nutcracker? Not on broadway or anything. I’ve seen a movie or animated version before when I was a kid, though.  Where did you get your bed sheets? Probably Kohl’s. Do you always use manners? I think so. Have you ever been stood up? Yes. Are your lips chapped? Yes. I’m always licking and biting/picking them. Have you ever been kicked in the throat? Ahh, no. I’ve accidentally hit myself in the throat, though. OW. Do you own a fishtank? No. When is the last time you were sick? I felt extra sicky this past Saturday. As far as like something like a cold, I got hit hard with the flu and bronchitis back in mid January. That really messed me up. I was down and out for like 2 months.  Do you like the song “Barbie Girl”? Sure. It’s a nostalgic thing. What do you usually order from Taco Bell? Bean burrito with no onions and extra sauce and sour cream and guac on the side. Sometimes I’ll add a couple Doritos Locos Tacos, too. If you have a cell, is it touch screen? Yeah. Crazy how that wasn’t the norm at one time, but now it’s weird if your cell phone isn’t a touch screen. Do you own a feather boa? No. Are you allergic to peanuts? No. Do you wear ribbons in your hair? No. Did you get into the Livestrong bracelet kick? I did. I had others as well, like one for ASPCA.  How many pictures are on the wall of the room you are in? 7. Do you use cheat codes on video games? I used to do that back in the day. Have you ever gone mudding on a fourwheeler? No. Is there a rolly chair in your bed room? My wheelchair, ha. What is your favorite flavor Jolly Rancher? I liked the watermelon, green apple, and blue raspberry flavors. I really liked the Jolly Rancher suckers they came out with, too.  Who is your favorite super hero? Iron Man, Spiderman, Ant-Man, Thor, and Star Lord. && who is your favorite Villan? Michael Myers, Pennywise, Darth Vader, The Joker, and Loki. Have you ever been to a church camp? No. Is there a trampoline in your back yard? No. Have you ever played Dance Dance Revolution? Nope. Have you ever swam in a creek? No. Do you enjoy running? Not at all. How long has it been since you last slept? Uhhh I woke up around 9AM yesterday and it’s 2:42AM now. What are your thoughts on Myspace? It’s dead. Crazy how that was the big thing at one point. I was obsessed with Myspace. I used to obsess over my layout and what I’d add to my page, like cute icons and stuff, my profile name, putting quotes and lyrics as my status, choosing my top 8, posting bulletins with surveys, and joining those train things lmao.  What is the last thing you dropped? A straw. How many nickels are in your possession? *shrug* A lot.  Is the sound on your laptop or computer turned off? It’s turned down pretty low.  How many items do you have in your “favorites”? I have a few things on my Bookmarks bar. Would you ever slide down a razor blade slide into a pool full of alcohol? A RAZOR slide? Uh, that’s a hard pass.  What is the last infomercial you saw? I don’t remember. How many magnets are on your refrigerator? Several. How many keychains do you own? A lot. I have a good little collection going. I love getting keychains. Do you own anything with a peace sign on it? Yeah. Have you ever been to Johnny Rocket’s? Yes. How many stuffed animals are in your room? I have a lot. I should count them all sometime.  Look up, then to the right. What do you see? The top of the curtains I have hanging up in place of the sliding doors I had for my closet. Have you ever done the “Cupid Shuffle”. I know the song and I’m familiar with the dance, but no I haven’t done it. Do you know how to do the Solja Boy dance? Again, I’m familiar with the song and dance, but I haven’t done it.  When is the last time you wore shorts? Years ago. Do you like elevators or escalators? I have to use the elevator. Have you ever layed on a tampur pedic? No. I’d love to have that kind of bed, though. It would be better for me. Have you ever been in Karate? No. What color is the nearest lampshade? White. Is there anyone in the room with you? No. How long has it been since you’ve eaten a Reese’s? Like a couple years. When is the last time you went to Walmart? A few weeks ago. Do you own any body glitter? Nope. What brand of hair straightner do you own, if you own one? I think it’s a Conair.  What is your favorite brand of chips? Doritos. Back when I could eat spicy things I would have said Cheetos cause of Hot Cheetos. What time was it 20 minutes ago? 2:34AM. When is the last time you pet an animal? Last night. Do you own anything from Aeropostale? Not anymore. I used to have some shirts and a couple hoodies.

[enigmaticjblake]

We have failed humanity

If you are reading this, chances of you being an intelligent and a self-aware human being just escalated.

Although I would admit that a bleak possibility of a hyper advanced alien race capable of travelling across time and space has discovered us already and has deciphered all possible forms of human communication only to come to the conclusion that we are among the most stupid races of all and are just not ready to join the ranks of the universal union. I guess that explains why aliens do not want to talk to us. We aren’t ready for an introduction yet.

We humans, on countless number of occasions we have exhibited our immaturity, selfishness and ruthlessness towards humanity.

We have educated ourselves to the tooth, invented newer technologies but we have lost the vision of protecting our planet. We have abused our oceans, our forests and our resources. Our planet is 4.543 billion years and humans are approximately 300-200,000 years old. If you mathematically condense the age of the planet earth into 24 hours, we humans have inhabited it only for a mere 3 seconds and look at what we have achieved.

Countless number of wars have ravaged our civilization over the years, ever since mankind emerged but there are two wars in particular that have changed the world forever. World War 1 and World War 2.

While WW1 lasted for approximately 4 years and lasted between Jul 1914 to Nov 1918 , it lead to the mobilization of more than 70 million troops and stands among the darkest phases in human history. Ironically it was supposed to be a war to end all wars, as the perpetrators claimed.  

More than 15 million human lives were lost in the war.

It is shameful because there was another World War.

WW2 took place on a global scale and lasted between 1939 to 1945, that’s approximately 6 years of endless mindless destruction of humanity as a whole. As much as 30 nations participated in the war, which eventually turned into a battle of 2 factions; the Allies and the Axis. The major players in the war disposed off their entire economic, industrial and scientific capabilities to fuel the war and as a result, there were 90  million deaths all across the planet.

While that wasn’t enough, the world witnessed an unimaginable horror, imagine the world’s most excellent minds capable of thinking outside the box working with the express purpose of creating something that can wipe off humanity.

The atomic bomb was made in order to put an end to the war but it was more of showing the world who is the big daddy.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki saw something no one in this world should see. When the bombs dropped, the whole world changed that day. Both cities were burnt to crisp and the whole region was plunged into radiation. The effects of the same are evident till this day.

It was a demonstration to the prowess of the super power as we know it.

To be honest, not much has changed ever since.

As humans we were supposed to be on but we have divided ourselves.

Our egos have become so fragile that we jump into conflict too fast. Apes did that, pre historic man was no different and intelligent homo sapiens are also no exception.

If you are well aware of your surroundings, chances are you must have heard or read about World Wars. If you have not, you are probably too young or never got the chance to educate yourself.

On the third day of a fresh new decade humanity woke up to memes of World War 3.

There was this sudden discomfort, confusion and realization that we have damaged ourselves beyond repair now.

Whatever the reasons maybe, I see two ignorant world leaders trying to justify their fragile ego and are ready to take down the world along with them.

The possibility of the world engulfing into a third world war has never been so real, let us dive into the consequences humanity will have to face if a third world war erupts because the chances of it have never been this real.

1. There will be black rainfall

Soon as the bombs drop, the skies will go dark and there will be black rain. The rain wont clear the sky and the drops won’t be water. These will be oily drops which will possess harm if come in direct contact with any life form.

In Hiroshima, the black rain started 20 minutes after the impact, the rain covered a rough area of about 20 miles. The whole region was drenched with this black gooey substance which was highly radioactive.

The skies were burning and oxygen levels were dropping, people were struggling through the flames and dying of thirst. Out of desperation most started consuming the mysterious black liquid only to later succumb to a radioactive demise.

The substance was so radioactive, it altered the blood of the people it came in contact with, there is no doubt that if we witness such weapons of mass destruction, we will definitely see this black rain.

2. An electromagnetic shock wave will disrupt electricity causing a massive black out.

Any nuclear explosion will be followed by an electromagnetic shockwave that can potentially fry electric grids and circuits on a nationwide scale. Nuclear tests in the past were capable of doing so on a 1000 miles radius and this was discovered by accident. Ever since, or so called scientific minds have designed nuclear bombs in a way they emit these shockwaves. So not only it will turn off your Xbox or Playstation, the data on your computer will be erased, the food in your refrigerator will become inconsumable and water treatment facilities in the area will shut down eventually granted access to contaminated water.

For a long time, we will be living without electricity and contaminated water.

 3. The skies will become so dark, the sun will black out.

Wherever the bombs fall, there will be an unfathomable amount of energy in that area will consume the surrounding area and will create a dense mushroom cloud almost 15 kms above ground level. This mushroom cloud will spread out into the sky which will cover up the entirety of the sky leading to a long lasting darkness. Survivors of this event will only see a black sky for almost a period of 30 years. Only after 30 years there will be chances of seeing the blue sky and a clear sun.

4. The planet will become too cold for food cultivation.

Dropping temperatures will be a direct consequence of blocking of sunlight by the dark clouds. The dark skies cause a nuclear winter on the planet, there won’t be any summer. It is possible for the animals to starve to death and all the flora, fauna and vegetation that exists at that point will wither away and die.

It will take approximately 25 years for the planet to recover from this climate change.

5. The Ozone layer will be damaged badly.

As we all know, pollution and carbon emissions are slowly damaging the ozone layer, in case of a nuclear holocaust the ozone layer is estimated to take a damage of 50%, this will allow the suns radiation to enter our atmosphere and will be lethal for all kinds of life forms. Life will just not be the same again.

Surviving life forms will go through extensive mutations, crops will become smaller and weaker and will even stop reproducing, humans will suffer from skin cancer and will die a painful death.

6.Billions will die of starvation.

It is estimated that even with continual efforts of harvesting any kind of crops or even if we adopt modern scientific farming techniques, it will take at least 5 years for us to get the first post war yield.

Low temperatures, high amounts of radiation in the soil and water will make it immensely difficult to harvest any kind of crops.

We just won’t be able to feed everyone. Those who will learn to survive will somehow manage to find food and people living beside coastal regions might find it a little easier but again, as there will be a black sky, most of the plankton in the sea will wither away which will kill our oceans. Anything fished out of the oceans for consumption will be dangerous; the first five years will be harsh and challenging and most of us won’t be able to survive.

7. Packed foods will be safe for consumption.

Sealed food is what will keep us alive for the first five years, bottled and canned food come with preservatives, granting them longer shelf life and it has been proven through experimentation that they can protect the contents from radiation. Stuff found on ground zero will contain smaller tracer of radiation but will still be consumable, just don’t expect them to taste good. The challenge will be to stock them as everyone will scavenge the wastelands for them. Just like how we see in most post apocalyptic sci-fi tales.

8. Radioactive bones.

Surviving humans will suffer from cancer, as earth will be bathed in radiation in the initial days of fallout. Strontium-90 is one chemical that tricks our body into believing its calcium and easily accepts it. The body sends this chemical directly into our bone marrow and teeth and thus leads the victim into bone cancer.

The only way to survive is finding out a solid enclosure and stay put till a few weeks have gone, two weeks is the safe period for radiation to reduce a 1000 folds. Birth defects, genetic mutation and deaths will be common. Same were observed in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

9. There will be massive storms all around the globe

The first month will witness a crazy pattern in the weather, the nuclear debris wont just block out the sun, it will enter the stratosphere and there will be massive storms, heavy destructive rainfall, blizzards of radioactive snow and cold darkness. It will be a push back into the dark ages where the cave man used to struggle for basic necessities of life.

Things beside water bodies will be worse as temperatures will plummet into a dark nuclear winter.

10. Power vacuum

There will come a time when people will emerge from their shelters, bunkers and eventually try to re-establish civilization. This is will a very dangerous phase, imagine a shift of power into the wrong hands, imagine the world going back into a much darker age. All the efforts humanity took to establish social, economical and ethical systems will have to be redone. Again there can be misuse of power.

11. People will survive.

It is not secret that billions of people will die the moment a bomb goes off, billions more will die a slow and a painful death, be it starvation, freezing in the cold or radioactive poisoning. There are just too many ways to get consumed by the harshness of the post apocalyptic world while handful of us will make it. The handful of us will adapt, be stronger than ever, have the will to survive against all odds.

Those who survive the first 30 years of this apocalypse will be the one to see a new earth. An earth where plants will start growing back, the skies will be clear and the sun will shine like it used to.

The new world will look something like Chernobyl where nature has reclaimed everything.

 Life will go on and people will start rebuilding everything and I hope that they do their best to learn from the mistakes their past foolish and selfish leaders have made.

Hopefully they will evolve into a much mature race and finally have the aliens talk to them some day.

[ohfiendangelical]

first of all, i want to clarify that this is not a callout post. it’s more of a personal catharsis thing — i don’t really have any ‘receipts’, though i do have numerous other witnesses and victims. ive been intentionally vague about this for about 5 years now, trying to keep the peace and avoid any unnecessary drama.

the story i originally gave when miranda and i parted ways was that we were simply incompatible; i implied that we were both good people who ultimately brought out the worst in each other. that is partially true — we were incompatible, and we did bring out the worst in each other. however, there’s a bit more to it than that.

i met miranda through the tumblr rpc in the early days of this particular blog. i was a young teenager. miranda was older than me, though also a teenager at the time; either a junior or senior in high school. she seemed sweet at the time, though shy and insecure. she also seemed sad a lot. we bonded over a love of the film moulin rouge and writing dark subject matter. we had our characters interact, and she quickly grew attached to both zero and i.

she quickly began to exibhit strange behavior. she would pressure me to do plots i wasn’t keen on and get extremely upset if i was hesitant. she was fiercely jealous and she would use her character, abra, to vent her personal grudges and vendettas against other writers and characters i interacted with. she accused a great deal of people in our circles of plagiarism (admittedly, there were a few cases of her suspicions proving to be true) and would bully them relentlessly, sometimes to the point of chasing them off the platform. she decided she didn’t like people seemingly at random and became hostile if i continued to speak to them.

she began to refer to me as her best friend within a few months of our knowing each other. i was not comfortable with this. i didn’t think i wanted to get very close to her, even if i had fun writing with her. however, she persisted relentlessly and pressured me into saying it back, and eventually i trained myself into believing it was true.

she forced the zero and abra ship. that may come as a surprise to people who knew us back then. i didn’t want to do it, but she would have a full-blown breakdown any time i said i didn’t see the two characters ending up together — so eventually i caved and engaged fully. this was another thing i had to learn to enjoy.

any time i made a decision for myself, she would be unhappy with me. this started out as rp- and character-based decisions only, but soon upgraded to any decision regarding real life as well. she didn’t like it when i came up with my own plot ideas and would fight with me. she didn’t like it if i talked to other writers, save for the few she deemed acceptable (until she inevitably had a falling out with them and i was not allowed to speak to them anymore). she didn’t like it if i wasn’t accessable 24/7. she became hostile if she found out i had plans or was not at my computer. she would become irritated if i talked about people in my life that she didn’t already know.

eventually, it got to the point where i rarely ever left my house, afraid of the reaction i would get. due to my mental health, i began to do homeschooling in the middle of my teen years (this was not related to her), which gave her unreserved access to me. i ended up losing contact with more than half my real-life friends. this lasted about 3 or 4 years — most of my formative teen years.

where i wasn’t allowed to have other friends, engage with other writers, have other ships, leave my house, or generally have any life experience, she was. if i brought up this contradiction i would be shamed and berated for being a bad friend. if i was worried about any of the decisions she was making — self-destructive habits, engaging with dangerous people in her real life, handling her money recklessly — i would be even further shamed. she kept me from her other friends, refusing to let me speak to any of them. she publicly played up her popularity with these friends, as well as her “fans” on her personal blog, while rarely ever mentioning me. if she wanted to prove a point, she would ignore me entirely to keep me in my place while championing and publicly lauding these other people. of course, if i spoke to almost anyone other than my few rp friends (which, again, were mostly selected by her whims), there would be absolute hell to pay.

she was fairly popular on her personal blog, and became regarded as an authority and critic on social issues. a great deal of her “hot takes” were extremely damaging, or not thoroughly researched. half the time she did not know what she was talking about. if anyone disagreed with her on anything — even mundane, small things that had nothing to do with social issues — they were deemed either racist or misogynistic or both. (miranda is a latinx woman, so she has had to deal with institutional racism. i want to make it clear she wasn’t a white girl crying racism — all of this is bad enough without misleading claims.) if she were informed she could not be an authority on the plight of demographics she did not fit into, she would throw a fit and talk in circles until she came up with something to make the other person, sometimes a member of the demographic she was representing falsely, appear in the wrong.

she had a great deal of internalized homophobia that offended me (i’m bisexual), and when i called her out on it, she grew highly emotional and guilted me relentlessly. i never brought it up again. after we parted ways, she came out as a lesbian. this was after years of her throwing a fit if i so much as said i’d kiss her in a playful context — though she sexted me once. she became distressed or annoyed if i ever mentioned it, which left me feeling rather dirty and used, especially since i was 17.

the body positively movement was gaining traction around this time, so she latched onto that, “reclaiming thickness”. the problem with that is that she was rather thin with slight curves. i, however, am heavyset — and was made to feel ugly by her for it while she also talked over me about thickness, fatphobia, and body shaming to further her own personal agenda. 

i underwent extreme personality changes with miranda controlling my life. i was an outgoing and confident teenager, if not a bit obnoxious, before i met her; now, to this day, i am rather reserved and shy. i have trouble befriending people. certain typing patterns make me anxious (miranda had a distinct textual tone when she was upset). my self esteem isn’t what it used to be. i have to triple check my own perceptions of things — even now, writing this, i have to wonder if everything really happened the way i remember it, or if i am just melodramatic and oversensitive.

i have countless horror stories, fragmented anecdotes. examples of her behavior.

she once claimed to have taken a bunch of pills in a suicide attempt, then immediately backtracked when i, worried sick, was preparing to call someone, saying that she threw them all up and was fine. she went to bed immediately after, making it clear she was irritated at me for responding to what i can only assume now were theatrics.

when the older boy i thought i was in love with molested me, and i — young, confused, and upset, with only a few hours having passed — considered speaking to him again, she berated me and threatened to cut all contact, saying that she “didn’t think she could be friends with someone who would do that”. (she also berated me when i expressed concern that she was still in contact with someone who abused her.)

a few months after my brother, who i loved more than anyone in the world, died unexpectedly, she expressed the news had upset her because she “knew it would change things between us” — in her mind, my grief took a backseat to the inconvenience of my attention being elsewhere.

when one of my friends expressed interest in one of my characters she was especially attached to, she came at me in violent hysterics, saying “HE’S MINE”, as though he were a real person. this fight escalated to literal life threatening perportions when my friend became hospitalized, the violent bullying and gaslighting from miranda being a factor.

when i began to hang out with my real life friends again once a week after years of isolation, she claimed that i didn’t care about our relationship and that we weren’t “working out”, and she may not want to be friends with me anymore.

i have a lot more, but i think we’ve gone dark enough for now.

i also want to bring up the way i behaved. the relationship did bring out the worst in me. i began to think like her in a lot of ways. there were times when i was cruel and manipulative and selfish. there were times when i was mean to other people. there were times when i would react to something in a melodramatic, irrational way when it didn’t have to be that way. i think that i became a really bad person for a while. there are still some habits that i’m trying to unlearn — like not saying what i mean and then getting upset with people for not knowing anyway, or being harshly critical and judgmental of those undeserving, or seeking out affection through ridiculously convoluted ways. i’m working on it. (honestly, i’m deathly afraid of turning into her.) a lot of it has been worked out of my system after five years, but there are relapses from time to time.

when i began to tell one of my friends about what i was experiencing, i slowly came to realize it wasn’t normal. i came to terms that it was abusive. eventually, i reached a point where i felt brave enough to disconnect. i told her that i couldn’t do it anymore, and then said goodbye. she tried every trick in the book into getting me to stay, but i managed.

i will still get the occasional message from her every six or so months that proves she hasn’t changed and has no intention of changing. the messages range from hostile to desperate to sad and asking for forgiveness.

based on what ive heard from other people, she’s only gotten worse.

there are currently 6 other people i can think of off the top of my head who also had traumatic experiences with miranda. and that’s just the few i know of.

so, there you go — that person i wrote with for years and years and seemed so happy with was basically keeping me hostage. i know that may come as a shock to some, and not to others. i hope anyone else who has been hurt by her is also brought some relief by the truth finally coming out: no, you weren’t crazy!

if anyone else would like to come forward, too, i’m always listening. it may help to talk about it.