#designer coordinated sets for men

[scrollnshops-blogs]

Designer Co-ord Sets for Men at ScrollnShops

ScrollandShops.com is a trendy multi-designer online store in India. It houses multiple designers under one roof who believe in curating exquisite and premium handcrafted styles by local artisans and designers. ScrollnShops offers an extensive array of Pret and couture, including Western clothing, Indian Wear, royal designs, and classic styles for women,men, and kids. At ScrollnShops, we have something for everyone that will complement your style and enhance your wardrobe.

Discover the Latest Co-ord Sets for Men at ScrollnShops

The fashion industry is constantly changing, and one notable trend that has evolved in men's fashion is co-ord sets. Two pieces of clothing that are meant to be worn together as an outfit are called co-ord sets. The co-ord set is designed to make a statement, excluding the hassle of mix-and-match. They can consist of a bottom and top, such as shorts and a T-shirt or straight-cut pants or shirt, or any mix-and-match of additional pieces, such as coats, jackets, and more. Men's co-ords have grown in popularity over time because they provide a comfortable yet stylish look with minimal effort. When it comes to co-ord sets, there is a style, size, and form for every man. Fashion enthusiasts love the ability to mix and match co-ord sets to create a new and unique look for various occasions. There is a designer co-ord set out there that is ideal for your style; whether you're seeking a simple or a bold look, a designer co-ord set at ScrollnShops is the solution for it. If you want an evergreen and classic style, choose simple designs and neutral colours that go well with several functions. On the other hand, if you want a style that should be quite unique, then go forward with a printed co-ord set or try to blend or mix and match with different patterns or colours. There are countless style options available at ScrollnShops when it comes to designer co-ords for men. There are many options available, ranging from classic denim co-ords to embroidered, embellished co-ord sets with modern designs and silhouettes. Denim co-ord sets for men As the name suggests, this co-ord set is made out of fine-quality denim fabric. This is one of the most popular styles for co-ord sets. Regardless of the event, denim co-ord sets look classic and can be dressed up or down. It's mainly preferred for a more casual look that showcases masculine style. It's great for going out for a cocktail party or birthday and more. Denim Shirt & Short Set, Colorblock Shirt & Shorts Set and many more. 

Printed co-ord sets for men There is an ideal designer printed co-ord set for every occasion because they are available in a variety of lengths, prints and patterns at ScrollnShops. Men's printed co-ord sets come in different alternates, ranging from subtle and simple stripes to striking abstract prints that offer an eye-catching appearance for your upcoming occasion. Blue T-shirt & Shorts Set, Ice Blue Printed Shirt & Pants and many more. Plain co-ord sets for men Plain co-ord sets for men are fantastic for people who like a more minimalist look. Go ahead with the all-time favourite classic black colour co-ord set or something more vibrant like red or yellow. A plain co-ord set can be accessorised with hats and sneakers to complete your look. Purple & Green Braid Co-ord Set, Cognac Linen Shirt & Shorts Set and many more. Embroidered co-ord sets for men An embroidered co-ord set for men is another great choice to have in your closet. It often features meticulous embroidery and embellishments handcrafted by prominent artisans on luxurious fabrics. It's ideal for those who love royal and shimmering hues. It's perfect for stealing the spotlight for any event or party. Blue Crystal Oversized Co-ord Set, Embellished Trench Coat & Pants and many more. 

Presenting Trendy Co-ord Sets for Men by Indian Designers 22.11.Everything | ITRH | Lafaani | Neora By Nehal Chopra | RE:O:SA | Ritika Gupta | Ted Ferde - Men | WABI SABIand many more Designer wear for all your special occasions:

Valentine's Day | Party | Holi | Republic Day | Independence Day | Ganesh Chaturthi | Raksha Bandhan | Navratri | Diwali | Christmas | New Year | Wedding | Mehendi | Sangeet | Cocktail | Roka | Reception | Haldi | Festival | Birthday Party | Casual & Daily | Women’s Day | Eid | Travel | Holiday | Vacation | Beach | Work | College and more!

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[rwrbmovie]

#RWRBMovie: Designing the sex scenes

“We need to make sure that it is unambiguous to anyone watching this scene what precisely is happening,” he says. “We’re going to be accurate to the body positioning, to the breath, to the moment of insertion.” Working with intimacy coordinator Robbie Taylor Hunt, López thought through every possible detail about how two men have sex — and what about that process needed to make it into the scene: “We talked about, ‘Does the prince douche before they go in? Do we need to tell the audience that? Does the audience just assume that that’s going on?’” A great deal of time was spent on whether Prince Henry would be on PrEP, a medication taken to prevent HIV infection during sex. “Robbie and I decided together that the prince is probably not on PrEP, because it would be too dangerous for him to ask for prescription,” López says. “So the prince absolutely uses condoms. And because we couldn’t really effectively answer the PrEP question narratively, we wanted to also just tell the story that the prince engages in safe sex practices and takes his sexual health seriously.” Eagle-eyed viewers have indeed caught sight of condom wrappers near Henry and Alex’s bed during a couple of points in the film — alongside a bottle of lube.  “Once we had passed a certain part in the story, I was like, OK, let’s empty out some of the lube,’” López says. “Robbie and I were looking at it, like, ‘How much would they use? Like, well, let’s take it down about this much. OK, that makes sense to me.’” It was also vitally important to López to block out every beat of the sex scene in Paris. “Days before we shot that scene, Robbie and I actually got into the bed together,” the director says through laughter. “There are videos that could, like, ruin both our careers. Because we were like, ‘Alright, we’re having sex. What are we going to do? Okay, this pillow goes here. The condom’s going to land here. I’m going to do this.’ We probably overdid it in terms of the preparation for the scene. But we also wanted to make sure that we got on to set and we had an answer for every conceivable question.” The opportunity to show two men having sex in what amounts to a major studio romantic comedy was not lost on López. “I’d be a liar if I told you there wasn’t strategy to the scene, that I didn’t want to cause a conversation about why they’ve never seen this scene in a studio film,” he says. But he was also keenly aware of what he was asking of his actors. “Look, I don’t know if I could do it,” he says. “I’m fully aware that I’m asking two actors to do something that I’m probably not willing to do. I better make sure that I’m not wasting their time, that I’m not making them feel exploited, and that they are included in every single decision, every step of the way. It’s the only responsible way to do it. We knew that if Taylor and Nick didn’t feel safe, we would never have gotten that scene out of them.”

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Clothes with TXT

OT5 TXT; 5 scenarios member/ reader wc: 1178

🧸 Yeonjun

he'd get matching underwear with you.

In general he'd be a sucker for clever matching outfits, but nothing would beat wearing the same design of underwear during a night in together with you. 

lounging around only in briefs, he'd melt seeing you appearing with the same minimal amount of fabric on your body.

when lying down with you, are close, thin fabric on thin fabric and the rest of touch being directly skin on skin, he wouldn't be able to avoid glancing down, seeing his sensitive parts matching yours with such conscious intention.

it's not just matching colors or minimalistic designs, he'd feel so much giddy joy seeing some cute designs facing each other, maybe beige underwear with cute little bears on them or silly ducks. 

his favorite would logically be pandas. 

when you're outside, wearing completely different genres of clothes, secretly only underwear matching, he'd feel so proud, smirking at the privat coordination of life, the intimate moment of getting ready together precious to him.

and when it's not a mutual decision, but a coincidence that he discovers when you find your way back to another at night, stripping down to take a shower, he'd throw himself at you with the happiest hug. He just loves finding familiarity in you. 

shopping trips include getting matching underwear. To people's entertainment, you'd probably stand there arguing while holding up random pairs of panties. It doesn't matter what section you're in, men's clothes, women's clothes, who cares. You just want to find the cutest little piece of fabric to add to your collection. 

🧸 Soobin 

he's such a winter inspiration to me, so I think of scarfs, gloves, and any warm fuzzy clothes. 

he'd wrap you up, put a huge scarf around your neck, carefully put gloves on your painfully freezing hands after he tries warming them with his breath. 

at home, he'd have a large collection of fuzzy socks for you, cute designs and pinterest-y overknee pairs. 

he'd put them on you, pulling them up slowly and once having your feet warm, he'd pull your legs into his lap caressing the soft fabric in such a manner that you could just fall asleep like that. 

especially during stormy winter nights, he'd have you in only a shirt, underwear and overknee socks in his bed beside him. With one arm he'd hold you close and with his free hand, he'd have his palm run up and down your dressed leg to warm and calm you. 

when he's in a playful mood, he'd tuck on the hem of your socks, pulling them up and down, tickling you oh so lightly until you get a bit annoyed at him, because it also means you'd be shifting more of your attention to him. 

🧸 Beomgyu 

matching accessories. Only both of you already wearing a cap when going out together, he'd find it so cool. 

For fancy dinner dates, he'd enjoy matching belts or both of you wearing a tie. 

It doesn't have to be cute or a huge sign of connection, he'd just enjoy feeling good in his clothes and having you match his energy. It gives him an ego boost, assures him of himself and his taste, that he is someone who can be seen as orientation and some sort of role model. 

Having you maybe exploring your style with his in mind, would make him grow more curious of his own possibilities, too. 

It's just fun for him. 

In a more domestic realm, he'd love seeing you wearing matching slippers. You'd just buy a 2 for 1 set. It's practical and lets him feel like he's truly living life together with you. 

On more serious occasions he'd aim for jewelry, bracelets or necklaces with matching charms, little engravings, such as each one half of a sentence. 

On dates he'd love handcrafting colorful pieces with you, bold pearls and cotton candy coloured strings braided into memories of carefree moments with you. They're his lucky charms and he feels even luckier when he sees you wearing them with the same enthusiasm. 

🧸 Taehyun 

simple, yet impactful having-you-wear-his-shirt-type-of-guy 

whether it's at home or outside, he loves seeing how you make his clothes look like. 

he lets you pick shirts for him, having in mind that you would wear them, too.

sometimes you like to mess with him, suggesting shirts you know he wouldn’t like, silly ones, immensely cute ones or extravagant shirts with attached bows. He’d sigh, shake his head, but go back to the store by himself from time to time to get the shirt, having you find it in his closet. 

he’d go full out when you ask him to give you a private fashion show, throwing all his silly poses into the room, gifting the pieces of fabric a whiff of his energy that makes you giggle whenever you wear the shirts. 

when it’s about his personal favorite shirts he’s be a bit reluctant at first, but when he sees you treating them with such care, not eating in them to keep them stain free, wearing them truly when you need to be just a bit closer to him, making the feeling of having company in life more present, he’d gently help you get dressed in his clothes.

he’d have his hands linger on you, smoothing out the fabric on your body, automatically caressing in a calming manner. 

all of it is just something that would happen alongside daily happenings. It’s nothing deeply thought through, but casual joyful endearments between you.  

🧸 Kai 

would throw his hoodie at you. 

his main intention not being that it's cute, but that it's simply practical. 

Why would you buy hoodies and such, when he could open his own store with the amount of pieces he has? 

however, once you start returning them to him, one by one, with your scent on them, he'd start melting, adoring the routine he carelessly introduced. 

giggly, kicking his feet, falling asleep in them, wearing them in situations that stress him out, make him feel anxious, he'd start relying on shared clothes. 

some hoodies become destined to be your clothes of sadness, catching his and your silent tears. Whenever he finds a wettened hoodie you were currently wearing discarded on your bed, he'd search for you to hold you. 

when he silently drowns his sadness in the mixture of his hoodie and your scent, you'd know when he throws it into the washing machine. 

hoodies become a way of communicating hard feelings with another.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆🧸If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like:

🧸Sleepy Scenarios with TXT 

🧸You Are Changing with TXT

🧸When TXT is making you comfortable

🧸When TXT is having a secret crush on you (sleepy scenarios)

🧸Holding Hands with TXT

[whencyclopedia]

Vigiles

The Vigiles (or cohortes vigilum) were formed during the reign of Augustus to act as ancient Rome's permanent firefighting service. Evolving from earlier slave teams, the vigiles were organised as an urban military unit and eventually recruits came from the Roman citizenry. The body, with a permanent camp of its own and equipment stations dotted around the city, patrolled the streets of Rome each night and also performed certain nocturnal policing duties to ensure public order.

Evolution

The vigiles were created by Augustus in 6 CE to meet the high risk of fires in the capital presented by its high population density and widespread use of wooden housing and other buildings which had timber parts. It was not the first time such a force had been created for the avaricious Marcus Licinius Crassus, one of Rome's all-time richest men, had spotted the chance of making money by offering low prices for burning buildings and then having his team of slaves extinguish the fire so that it could be saved for redevelopment. If the property owner refused Crassus' offer, then the fire was left to rage on unabated.

The next step towards a proper fire service was taken by the aedile Egnatius Rufus who, like Crassus, created a force of slaves to put out fires but, unlike Crassus, seems to have been more motivated by issues of public safety. He may have sought political cachet from his creation, but it did not do him much good as the Senate later dealt him the death sentence for conspiring against the state. Another idea to protect the city, particularly at night, was the creation of the tresviri nocturni - three magistrates set on night watch. Yet again, this trio's workforce was composed of slaves, and it was their duty to prevent any disturbances in the city. Some wealthy private individuals even formed their own personal fire brigades, though, such was the need for a larger ever-present response team to fires.

C. 21 BCE Augustus took matters in hand and reorganised what was left of Rufus' slaves, creating a force of 600 slaves to fight fires if and when they arose. The aediles were put in charge of this new force, but they seem to have been ineffectual for, following serious fires in 7 BCE, Augustus reorganised them again. This time the force was split to cover 14 zones, each further divided into vici. Thus each of the 265 vici had its own designated group of firefighting public slaves commanded by the viciomagister. This was an improvement on the previous system, but there remained problems with coordination between different vici. This led to Augustus finally creating a single force, the vigiles.

Continue reading...

[novaviis]

All The King’s Men.

Chapter Six. Persecution Complex.

Watercolour Series.

Words: 47k Status: In Progress Rating: Mature Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, BatFamily

Summary:

A threat against the Wayne Family arises, one that forces them into hiding. Stuck out in a cabin hidden in the mountains of Montana, Dick has to juggle keeping his family from tearing itself apart, missing his fiance like crazy, and a mystery that has plagued him all his life.

Chapter Six Excerpt:

The sweeping aerial shot circling above Wayne Manor could barely contain the magnitude of the fire. Grainy and low resolution as the small television screen was, the image was violent and vivid, a sea of black set alight with strikes of flame glowing blood red, orange, and yellow. It lit silhouettes in shattered windows, illuminated the harried edges of the trees on the surrounding grounds. The flashing lights of first response vehicles only added to the chaotic maelstrom of light. Streams of water shot out from their hoses as they fought desperately to save what little of the structure they still could, while containing the fire from spreading into the surrounding estate. New Jersey was two hours ahead of them, and as late as it was here in Montana, it was the middle of the night back home. There was no way of knowing how much damage had been caused until morning light, if the fire could be put out before then. “Gotham City Fire Department is on the scene with assistance from the Bludhaven units,” reported the news anchor taking up the bottom right corner of the screen. “There has been talk of calling in emergency assistance from the State Troopers, but sources have at this time been unable to confirm that the request has been made. Wayne Manor, aside from being the residence of Bruce Wayne and his family for generations, has been designated as a historic building. Wayne and his children have now been missing for four weeks. No advancements in the ongoing search for the High Profile Billionaire have been announced publicly, although Police Commissioner James Gordon had stated in a press conference the day of the coordinated abductions that all available efforts were being expended to find the Waynes, including a joint effort with the FBI. Whether this fire is connected to the abductions still remains a mystery...”

Things are heating up! 🔥🔥🔥

[Read on AO3]

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Courtship Deception - Part 7: Fight or Flight

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

Sorry I disappeared, my mom is running for vice-dean at our uni and the elections got me so hyped!! Keeping track of the gossip alone could be a full-time job heheheheh

Anyway this chapter might go to the top 3 most unserious things I ever wrote lol

Warnings: duel with no depictions of violence; gay pining and heartbreak at its peak

Words: 1011 (oops!)

Aelin sat nestled under Rowan’s arm, both of them waiting at 6:58 p.m. in that forgotten temple. The sun was setting in different hues of blue and orange past crumbled walls, and her lover’s fingers combing through her hair were the only reassuring thing that day; they said, I’m here. I’m here for you.

The rejection of her marriage proposal wasn’t taken to heart—marrying Rowan right now would be a mean to an end, that being living on her own terms. It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t want that for himself.

What did surprise her is that, after all that, he still agreed to fight her suitors. Just because I’m not getting engaged to you this month, it doesn’t mean that I want other dudes to, he previously explained, and there he was: waiting for Chaol and Dorian to show up. After scolding Fenrys for making duel propositions on his behalf, of course, but he was still here at the end of the day.

“So…” Dorian trailed, announcing himself, and beelined his way to them by dodging the temple’s ruins. “How many people did Rowan propose a duel to?”

“Gods.” Chaol coughed, keeping some distance behind Dorian. “I better not die in this shithole.”

Aelin grimaced, just now remembering his allergies—between ancient stones and the moss-covered floor, things weren’t looking good for him.

“Evening, suitors.” Fenrys paced before what was supposed to be the altar, hands clasped behind his back. “As an unofficial coordinator of Aelin’s courtship, I arranged this—“

“I thought it was Rowan’s idea,” Dorian interrupted.

“Rowan challenged you two on a thruel.”

“A what?” Rowan asked.

“A thruel.” The “coordinator” sighed. “A duel of three.”

Chaol frowned. “How does that work—“

“Perfect.” Rowan slapped both hands on his thighs to get up. “Swords or guns?”

Her lips parted slightly. So he knew his way around a sword and a gun both. That’s… fuck, that’s definitely hot.

Fenrys had a devilish grin on. “Guns.”

“But right now?” Chaol looked around, seeking reassurance. “We don’t want to frighten Aelin, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Aelin said, moving to find a better sight of the whole temple. “Aelin isn’t frightened at all.”

None of the men seemed excited about the thruel, but they stood still, waiting for Fenrys to retrieve the guns. Between her three suitors, her bodyguard gave each an odd-looking gun. Aelin squinted her eyes as an attempt to get a better look, make sense of their bulkier build and little kidney-looking black thingy on top. Then he pulled out a bulletproof vest of sorts, but it looked so flimsy.

Wait a second.

“We’re choosing my future husband over paintball?” Aelin shrieked, incredulous.

Not that she was actually marrying any of them, but she had to play the part here.

“Yes,” Fenrys said, eyes hard. “It is an act of bravery, since it bruises like a bitch, and the last thing I need is a prince and a lord dying on my watch.”

“Or two princes,” Chaol added.

Rowan snorted, barely managing to keep his thoughts to himself.

After Fenrys revealed the true nature of the thruel, her suitors had a new lightness on the way they carried themselves, each finding a spot behind the ruins so the game could start.

Dorian even winked at Fenrys, and Aelin had yet to find out what that was about. By the way Chaol’s jaw clenched as he watched, the thruel was heated before it even started.

“Game on!” their designated referee signed.

With cautious advances, Chaol focused on Dorian. The other man did the same, so keen on attacking each other that they seemed to forget that this was a duel of three.

Rowan, who hadn’t moved an inch, sent Fenrys a confused look. A shrug was the only response he got.

Chaol ran to a nearer pillar, firing off a series of shots before he slid into cover again.

“Shoot me!” Dorian shouted, got up from behind his cover, and theatrically threw his gun on the floor. “What’s a paintball bruise compared to what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” Chaol’s gaze slid from Dorian to Fenrys. Uh-oh. He continued, “You think I should be sorry? Well, I am! I really am sorry I was so hooked on you it upended my entire life—“

“But we were so close!” Dorian said. “I was fighting for you, and I was this close to convincing my mother about our worthiness when I found out about this… ploy to marry Aelin. Seriously, Chaol? My best friend?”

“Oh!” The lord let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought I was your best friend!”

“You might’ve been in the past, but I don’t love you like a best friend anymore!”

Chaol’s face softened. “You love me?”

The two went on, too wrapped up to notice Aelin leaning closer to Fenrys and whispering, “Should we give them some privacy?”

“Nah.” A pause so her friend could catch on part of their dialogue. “I’m too curious about why they were chasing you.”

Aelin thought it was out of parental pressure like in her case, which probably happened with them too, but it seemed to be also to affect each other. She met Rowan’s gaze from the other side of the temple, and the poor guy looked lost, still in his thruel position.

Dorian soon caught up on his lack of privacy and led Chaol out of the temple so they could talk more, and only then Rowan left his spot behind a ruin. “Did I win?”

Aelin sighed, a fake wondrous look on her face. “My hero,” she joked.

He laughed and tugged her to him, trailing pecks from her face down her neck.

“You won the last round,” Aelin admitted before picking up Dorian’s gun from the floor. “Wanna lose the next one?”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Do you want to lose it?”

They had been on dates—as much as a hard-working outcast prince and a sheltered heiress could within the span of twelve days—but none of them were as interesting as paintball at an abandoned temple.

“Hey!” Fenrys shouted, running their way. “I wanna play too!”

A/N: i can’t believe that it's finally me and you and you and me just us and your friend Steve DODODODODODODO STEVE

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[wanderinginksplot]

Hardcase + "Is that seriously your password?"

Hardcase and gn!reader (no use of y/n or any pronouns). Platonic.

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: Hardcase being Hardcase, impatient reader, themes of distance in a friendship.

---

Despite all outward appearances - and prevailing public opinion - Hardcase was a very intelligent man. 

It was the 501st’s worst-kept secret, among many strong contenders, that Captain Rex had been trying to send him to ARC trooper training for months. Hardcase politely refused every time, insisting that he was happy as he was and with the 501st in particular. 

“Why would I ever leave?” he asked any time someone brought it up. “All my brothers are here and I’ve got plenty of heavy artillery. What else could I need?”

Say what you wanted about Hardcase, he had a singularly clear idea what he wanted.

And, at that moment, what he wanted was to learn how to do your job. 

He had been hanging around for a little over a week and had learned most of what your coworkers did. As a small group of nat-borns - roughly a dozen on the whole team - you were surrounded by men who had been literally designed to outclass you. But still, you were there to do the odd jobs that the GAR couldn’t bother to assign to a clone trooper. You watched radars, analyzed intelligence reports, and took in messages from the GAR and the Jedi Order alike. 

You didn’t see Hardcase when you approached your small desk and your shoulders eased slightly. When you sat down and he still didn’t appear, you turned and booted up the desktop datapad so you could take a look at that day’s charts. 

“Is that seriously your password?”

You swore violently and turned to face Hardcase, who was halfway through climbing out of the storage closet across the aisle from your desk. That door had been stuck partially open since you had first come aboard the Resolute. Stupid of you not to check there. 

Even as your chair’s rotation slowed to a stop, you threw the stylus in your hand at Hardcase. He blinked at you as the stylus bounced harmlessly off his chest. You spared a moment to note that he was wearing only his black body glove and the stylus had still ricocheted like it had hit a solid surface… But Hardcase was speaking before you could process that further. 

“Calm down, it’s just me,” he soothed.

“I know, that’s why I threw it!” you snapped and Hardcase grinned. You pressed a hand to your chest. “For the millionth time, watching someone type in a password is not slicing!”

“Exactly, it’s better,” Hardcase said proudly. “Much less effort.”

You rolled your eyes, mostly to hide the smirk that threatened. “That’s not how you learn a skill, Hardcase,” you reminded unnecessarily. 

“No, but it was enough to get me this far,” he countered with a shrug. 

That was an unfortunately good point, so you elected to ignore it. “Did you need something? Other than to give me my midnight adrenaline jolt?”

As you said it, you glanced down at your fresh caf in disgust and pushed it away. Hardcase scooped up the mug of caf the moment you did so, taking a greedy slurp and wincing as he burned his tongue. “Yeah, actually. I want you to teach me to calculate a route through hyperspace.”

“Hardcase,” you started, sighing. 

Hardcase laughed. “Yeah, that’s the right way to say it! A little frustrated, a little tired. Now just follow it up with, ‘I’ll show you how to navigate the ship’ and we’ll be good!”

A loophole opened in front of you, shining and brilliant. “Fine, I’ll show you how to navigate the ship.”

As Hardcase did a victorious little dance, you gestured at the screen of your datapad. “First, you put in the coordinates of where you want to end up, then you enter your current coordinates. Most systems can calculate your current position, but the Resolute is still moving, so I’m going to do a quick estimate of where we’ll be when we jump into hyperspace.”

As you spoke, you performed each of the steps in turn, setting up a mock course to Coruscant from the Resolute’s estimated position ten minutes from then. You tapped the correct button, letting the results of the datapad’s calculations scroll down the screen. “And then it flags any problems with the route and offers alternate options to avoid those problems. No questions? Okay, you’re good!”

If it were anyone else, you would be worried you had offended your prospective pupil, but Hardcase’s easy-going nature was well known and nearly impossible to shake. 

As if to prove that fact, he only laughed at your vague lesson and blunt dismissal. “Nice try! I want to learn to calculate the route by hand.”

“By hand?” you repeated, aghast. “Hardcase, that’s a long process. It takes hours…”

“I set aside some time,” he accepted easily, nabbing the chair from a nearby desk and settling comfortably into it. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’re busy.”

You glanced around, half-wishing for some kind of emergency so you could push him off without feeling bad about it. Nothing jumped out at you and no alarms were going off, so Hardcase’s point stood. There wasn’t even anyone else on that section of the bridge. You were the only person pulling a twelve-hour shift that night, and the area was abandoned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to learn to calibrate a radar?” you asked, a little desperately. “That’s what most of my job is and it’s a much more interesting skill.”

“Okay,” Hardcase agreed, folding his hands over his stomach. “As soon as you teach me to calculate a route by hand, you can teach me how to calibrate a radar.”

You stared at him dryly. “Thanks.”

“Always happy to learn,” he said, grinning at you. 

You gritted your teeth and pulled up a new page on the datapad. “Fine. We’re going to need a fresh star chart with the quadrants clearly marked, and a complete list of all known hyperspace disruptions…”

Frustratingly, Hardcase was an excellent student. That wasn’t a shock. You had spoken to your coworkers who had taught him and they had mentioned exactly that. Hardcase was intelligent with a keen interest in information-gathering. He could be selective about his interests and flippant with what he learned, but when he turned his full focus to a subject, he didn’t stop until it was mastered.

So you resigned yourself to the task. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a boring shift. And it did take a large portion of your working hours. Calculating hyperspace routes by hand was a long and tedious process. When you were finally finished, you stabbed at the star chart with your stylus. 

“And there you go,” you summarized. “The most boring way you could have possibly spent three and a half hours.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Hardcase countered. “At least this is useful.” 

“Only if you manage to get on a ship without a navicomputer and you need to make an immediate jump to light speed,” you shot back. “And assuming you’re being generous about the definition of the word ‘immediate’.”

“We are in a war,” he told you with a shrug. “You never know what’s going to happen out there.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Hardcase, if you disable the navicomputer, I’m going to be very unhappy.”

“I would never!” he insisted, pressing an offended hand to his chest. 

You didn’t trust Hardcase’s offense as far as you could throw the tall and muscular trooper, so you just shook your head and began gathering up the materials you had used to calculate the practice route.

“So, are you gonna tell me why you were avoiding me?” 

The question made your shoulders tense. “I wasn’t.”

Hardcase barked a laugh at the lie. “Uh-huh. Then why did I have to hide in a storage closet to catch you at your desk?”

“You didn’t,” you insisted mulishly. “I think you just like scaring people.” 

“I do,” he admitted without further prompting. “But you were also avoiding me. I’m not offended, I just want to know why. I thought we were friends. You know, even before I started trying to learn about what it is you do here.”

You looked down, pretending to scrub at a spot on the desk. The truth was that Hardcase was right. You had been friends. The problem was that you had been around long enough to recognize one of Hardcase’s most dependable patterns: he would leave when he got bored. 

It was an innate trait, something he couldn’t help. He always did it, no matter what intentions he had. You two had been friends… but then you noticed that he was asking your coworkers how to do their jobs. When he learned the last job, there was a good chance he would move on to his next passion. You weren’t ready to be left behind by him, not yet. 

“C’mon,” Hardcase urged, plucking the neatly rolled starchart from your hands and bopping you gently on the head and shoulders with it. “Tell me. I’ll just keep asking. You know I will. Why are you avoiding me? Why? What’s the reason? Why are-?”

You snatched the tube of flimsi from him and swiped at him. The blow landed on the side of his neck with a quiet hollow sound that made him laugh. Despite yourself, you joined in. 

And then you stopped, filled with a deep sadness. You liked spending time with Hardcase. He was a good friend. And, if his previous patterns were anything to go by, there was a good chance that this was the end of your friendship. 

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” you admitted softly. 

Hardcase’s laughter trailed off into silence as he gave you a quizzical look. “I don’t have to go right now. I told you, I set aside the whole night for this.” 

“That… isn’t… quite what I meant.” The explanation was even softer than your admission - not quite silent, but close.

Even so, Hardcase frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would I?”

“You will,” you assured him, offering a halfhearted smile to take the sting from the truth of it. “You get… restless. Now that you know how to do everything on this part of the bridge, you’ll get bored around here and move on to another part of the ship.”

“Why-” Hardcase broke off, clearing his throat. “Why do you think I wanted to learn about all of this stuff?”

You shrugged. “I know you like to learn, and you like having another skill. Right?”

Hardcase shook his head. For the first time you could remember, he was pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “That isn’t wrong, but it’s not the whole reason. I like spending time around you and this seemed like a good chance to do it. Then you stopped hanging out with me as much and this started being the only way I could be close to you. Plus, your coworkers are really nice. They tell some great stories about you.”

The horror you felt at the prospect of your coworkers telling stories about you was only mitigated by the surge of guilt you felt for avoiding Hardcase. He had only wanted to be your friend. You had been so worried about the idea of losing him that you had pushed him away before he could prove that he wouldn’t leave.

And, by doing so, you had caused the very thing you were afraid would happen.

“I’ve been a terrible friend,” you concluded aloud. “I’m sorry, Hardcase. I don’t know how to make it up to you. If you even want me to, that is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you easily. “Part of being a good friend is understanding that someone needs to be a bad friend sometimes.”

You frowned at that. “There’s something missing in that logic.”

“That’s how you know it’s a Hardcase original,” Hardcase said, sounding proud of it. “Besides, it’s friendship. It doesn’t need to make sense.”

To your horror, you felt the threat of tears rising behind your eyes. Hardcase, thankfully oblivious as always, snatched the rolled-up chart from you. Once more, he began bopping you on the shoulders and head. 

The childish behavior was enough to break you out of your sentimental mood and you scowled at him. Hardcase only laughed and hit you again. You tossed a flimsi-clip at him, but it only winged his ear.

“We really do need to work on your aim,” Hardcase noted. “Caf first, though. Let’s go to the mess.”

You glanced at your workstation. There was no real reason you couldn’t leave, and you were overdue for a break. 

“C’mon,” Hardcase urged. “Don’t make me go to the mess hall by myself. It’s creepy this late at night. A good friend would come along.”

“Are you going to hold this over my head?” you asked suspiciously, already following him off of the bridge. 

“Of course!” he agreed instantly. “What else are friends for?”

You heaved a loud sigh, but fortunately, Hardcase didn’t turn around. Your wide smile probably would have given you away.

---

Author's Note - I'm having a bad day, so here's a fic I wrote to help with my writer's block earlier this year. Hope you enjoyed it! I have a few more of these to post, all of which lean more toward romance than this one did.

You can add yourself to my taglist here or find other works on my masterlist. (Masterlist is desktop-only at the moment, but I'm working on it!)

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @stargazingthenightaway @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @adriiibell @boomtowngirl @bitchylittleredhead @blck-omen @lackofhonor @captxin-rex @literallydontlook @salaminus @lucyhelena @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @tsedeshgishnii @buddee @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @captain-splock-you @dancingwiththeplanets @hummellchen @theclonesdeservebetter @cyarinka @ladyemxo @maulslittlemeowmeow @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @coruscanticoffee @crookedwiings @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @musigrusi @lucyysthings @dinsverdika @bombshe77 @cawyden

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[tomorrowxtogether]

TOMORROW X TOGETHER Are Dior’s Newest Brand Ambassadors

The K-pop group wore custom designed outfits for its headlining set at Lollapalooza.

Dior has found its latest brand ambassadors in the boys of TOMORROW X TOGETHER. The luxury fashion house announced its partnership with the K-popgroup on Thursday (Aug. 10), with each member slated to work with the brand.

“Dior is pleased to announce global icons @TXT_BigHit as new Dior ambassadors, further cementing the House’s bond with the South Korean group,” the brand wrote on Instagram, captioning photos of the quintet in coordinated brown, black cream and gray-toned ensembles. “Discover the stage looks custom designed by @MrKimJones for band members SOOBIN, YEONJUN, BEOMGYU, TAEHYUN and HUENINGKAI to wear at their recent Lollapalooza festival headlining performance in Chicago.”

In a follow up post, the fashion house revealed that the group’s outfits for its set at the festival — where TXT performed several hits from recent album Sweet in addition to fan-favorite tracks — were designed by Dior Men’s artistic director Kim Jones “with each singer embodying the singularity and timeless modernity of Dior style.”

MOA flocked to the comments section of Dior’s announcement posts and expressed their gratitude at the boys being selected to represent the brand. “You chose the best ambassadors, they are tall, beautiful and so talented…and they like to make a statement with their fashion choice,” one fan wrote. Another added, “Congrats TXT. Proud of them. Dior is really lucky to have them all.” 

Several MOA also commented that Dior is “OT5,” meaning the brand equally loves and supports each member of the group.

[thinkingimages]

Posted by Kimberly Randall on August 6, 2019

This group of lace doilies and inserts were produced in 1922 by the Wiener Werkstätte under the direction of Dagobert Peche (Austrian, 1887–1923). All four are handmade, but were produced in multiples as both the round doilies and square insert with a male figure are remarkably similar to ones found in the collection at MAK in Vienna. Even in multiples, each was the result of good design made by the hands of skilled craft workers. They were made and often purchased in matching and coordinating sets, and the designs could be reused over time. As an organization of designers and craftspeople, the Wiener Werkstätte modeled their production on an Arts and Crafts ideal: to achieve their goal of making available to the public well-designed goods of superior craftsmanship.

The textile department at the Wiener Werkstätte first began producing lace after 1911. Their early lace designs were fine and delicate and largely favored abstracted rectilinear designs punctuated by isolated floral motifs. Under Dagobert Peche, lace designs shifted in favor of a large open mesh made with heavier threads. Designs became more figurative and exuberant, favoring a baroque Austrian style that depicted fashionably dressed men and women in a variety of expressive poses as well as mythic and symbolic figures such as stags, peacocks and cherubs. Under Peche, women designers became more prominent, and with this acquisition, two pieces of lace by Anny Schröder-Ehrenfels (Austrian, 1898–1972) are added to the collection.

For more information about the lace and embroidery of the Wiener Werkstätte, see The Unknown Wiener Werkstätte Embroidery and Lace: 1906 to 1930, by Christoph Thun-Hohenstein and Angela Völker.

Kimberly Randall is the Collections Manager for the Textiles Department

[threewaysdivided]

Gelnek Goes to a Gala

More Dan Jones & Dragons art! This time their glorious Double Leader, Gelnek (played by the inimitable JoCat) all fancied up in his best Goblin party-attire.

More Flower Crowns Gala Outfits: Morenthal | Hobson

Design talk under the cut:

Unlike with Morenthal’s outfit (which was mostly drawn from Dan and Gamb’s official stream design) I thought it would be a fun challenge to take the chaos of JoCat’s Gala outfit brief for Gelnek (a large fluffy fur coat and stacked tower of Cowboy, Pork-pie and Trilby hats) and try to render out something fashion-adjacent.

Figure-wise, I wanted to push the broadness of Gelnek’s build and body-shape, since Jo introduced him as being atypically bulked-up for a Goblin (to the point that he sometimes gets almost-mistaken for an odd-looking Dwarf) and charging Hobson down like small green boar during their first training spar.  I thought it would be fun to lean into him being a stocky bundle of muscle compared to how Goblins are typically drawn. 

For the coat, I liked the idea of taking men’s fashion-furs and giving him a long-cut trench-style coat with a big fur ruff around the collar.  Really fluff the guy up with an impressive “beast-coat” that makes him look even bulkier.

Gelnek’s under-coat situation wasn’t described, so I went with a close-fit black two-piece since I figured that could help emphasise his actual silhouette without being too visually busy, and might make some fun strong shapes if I wanted to draw him in more dynamic situations later.  I also gave him a few sash-belts with some of his hunt-trophies pinned on (the Voidcrystal Snail-eye, a Wyvern Tooth from their fight on the Javelin and Trilby’s gifted Dragon-Scale button), just to keep the under-outfit from getting too conventional.

Hat wise, there’s not much that can be done to rein in the “putting a hat on a hat” effect of the Trilby on Porkpie on Cowboy tower, so I just tidied them up a little with some nice complementary colours and bands that coordinated with the rest of the ensemble.  The Cowboy brim and long coat combo ended up giving him some strong gunslinger energy, which is kinda fun for a traveling war-bard.

For his hair, I wanted to neaten up his big mess of fluffy curls for the formal setting, without going the same slicked-back conventional-imperial-common route that Hobson and Morenthal were already sporting.  Since Gelnek’s birth-tribe come from a swampy region and places a lot of cultural importance on headwear, I thought it might be fitting to do him up with some neat protective braids.

Gelnek’s shoe situation was an interesting one since canonically he doesn’t wear them.  I didn’t want to deprive him of his quest for the perfect shoe, but also figured he would need something to avoid the standard “no shoes, no service” rule at formal events, so I ended up pulling inspiration from Across the Spiderverse and giving him some Pavitr Prabakar-style foot-wraps with a bit of fancy gold trim to match the sash and middle hat.

I also decided to rep’ his drum-shield, seeing as Gelnek ended up being allowed to bring it into the venue.  It’s barely visible in the final drawing but a good quarter of his thumbnail page was notes on how do drum-shield work?  In my head I see it as something like a kettledrum set inside a convex round-shield/Dhal that lets him beat the drumhead while keeping the shield between him and danger.  I also like the idea of him being able to play the shield part like a handpan.

Bonus look at his sketch layers because this man's hats and physicality fought me harder than he fights drakes:

[blackandwhlteaesthetlc]

Olivia Wilde’s off-the-rails press tour for “Don’t Worry Darling” started with the “Booksmart” helmer praising the film for being a beacon of female pleasure (spoiler: lead star Florence Pugh’s character is repeatedly raped in retrospect and cannot consent since she is chained to a bed and held captive unconscious). In a splashy pre-release cover story, Wilde made what seemed to be a sex-positive statement to Variety: “Men don’t come in this film. … Only women here!”

A source revealed to IndieWire that the highly controversial set was without an intimacy coordinator at the request of director Wilde, all while off-set she emphasized just how sexy and Adrian Lyne-y the sex scenes between Pugh and Styles were on her year-long press tour. “Why isn’t there any good sex in film anymore?” Wilde infamously asked, promising that “Don’t Worry Darling” would rectify that.

“I think the idea that just because you have a female lead character, that instantly makes the film feminist, is a bit naïve. bell hooks said it best. She said, ‘Patriarchy has no gender,'” Menkes said. “As women, we have internalized a lot of these concepts on a very, very deep level to the point that they’re just reproduced. When women directors reproduce these tropes, you wonder how much is just automatic. I ask the same question of women that I ask of men: How do you think that reproducing the same shit is supposed to be revolutionary or commenting on it? Because we have had 120 years of the male gaze on our backs, because we have had 96 percent of films directed by men that objectify women all throughout history. It’s so ingrained, it’s so deep.”

While Menkes credited Wilde for employing a feminist shot design and use of visual language, especially when filming lead star Pugh’s nudity, Menkes noted that on a script level, “Don’t Worry Darling” is decidedly anti-feminist. Why?

Well, mainly because none of that hot sex Wilde boasted about is consensual. Spoiler alert: The ending of “Don’t Worry Darling” is that Pugh’s character is actually being held hostage by her abusive incel partner (Styles) and literally chained to a bed as they live out their “ideal” lives in a virtual reality simulation called Victory. Pugh eventually escapes, but there is no redemption. It’s a rape fantasy without the rape-revenge.

The plot of “Don’t Worry Darling” is hardly feminist when examined more closely, but behind-the-scenes issues are troubling as well: A source told IndieWire that more than half of the production assistants were not included in the film’s credits, despite being listed on IMDb. The production assistants left out, including COVID compliance officers, are all women. (IndieWire has reached out to representatives for the “Don’t Worry Darling” production for comment.)

🗣🗣🗣

[decepti-thots]

knowing almost nothing abt the comics industry I've no idea how likely this actually is, but; is it possible Hasbro hasn't granted the the license to do tf comics to anyone else bc they're setting up their own in house comics company (Hasbro having their own in house animation studio sets just enough precedent for this thought to refuse to stop haunting me)

Possible? In the literal sense, sure; Hasbro are a multibillion dollar entertainment behemouth, and there would be nothing stopping them from doing so.

Realistically? No chance, IMO.

American comic markets of the sort Transformers naturally occupy given the assumed demographics at play- the ~22 page monthly release that comic shops have a near-monopoly on- are infamously a money pit that is dying by slow agonizing degrees, and even if you are the most successful non-big two publisher (so not Marvel or DC) out there, all that means is that you aren't actively going broke. (Hey, did we all see the news about IDW, by the way?) The average "successful" monthly release American comic sells jack shit compared to other industries, tbh. Marvel, in the 80s and early 90s, could leverage an issue of X-Men into sales of literally millions with the right PR boost*. Now, in a post-superhero movie world where superheroes are the default mode of pop culture, they're lucky to hit 100,000. Very lucky. You're more often seeing even some of the biggest names getting 50k or less shifted a month. For a non-big two company, you're looking at under 30k for your biggest hit a lot of the time. The exceptions are notable largely for being exceptions. (Skybound, I'll note, has had a couple: Invincible is the most notable.)

(*well, OK, the 90s also had the speculator boom which eventually caused many issues later on, which accounts for part of this. but big name comics were still selling much better before that becomes a factor, and it does not account for all of it.)

To make breaking into an industry in these dire straits worth it, you have to be sure you can compete with the biggest (non big-two) players, because anything less is a huge amount of time and effort and coordination for scant profits at best and losses at worst. (Comics are a pain in the ass to produce, at least comics of that sort; any given issue will have at least a writer, an artist, a colourist and a letterer. Many will also have some or all of the following: an interiors artist doing just pencils, an inker, a dedicated colour flatter, a layout designer, backup artists and writers...) And. Well. Why would you? That's a bad deal! Plus, Hasbro would have to pump out quite a few series to make it worth it, and while they do theoretically have the IP to do so, they've never focused that much on comics and would be starting from the ground up for most of those franchises in an industry where again, "success" does not look like a lot of money. (And they haven't even pulled all their licenses from IDW; many of their IPs still sit happily with other publishers with no sign of that changing.)

The flipside to this is the place where American comics are doing much better; publishing graphic novels in bookstores, not monthly releases in comic book stores. But if you have a big, recognizable IP, the thing is, now suddenly the traditional publishing industry handles that. Sure, there are dedicated comics publishers in that sphere, but if you have a guaranteed winner of a pop culture franchise, HarperCollins and the like are interested. And there is no reason not to go with one of the big five conventional book publishers then, because they have SO much infrastructure in place that it would take you years to even begin to catch up... and you won't anyway, because that infrastructure exists because they publish so many books a year that they can sustain massive publishing empires that make publishing those graphic novels comparatively trivial, which no specialist publishing outfit can hope to reach at a smaller scale.

What it boils down to is: getting into the comics industry when you don't have to is a bad idea and everyone knows it. Outsourcing to the people already established is overwhelmingly the better option. If you're doing monthlies, anything else has a 99% chance of failing, and even if you manage it, you now have a ton of work and minimal profits. (Marvel doesn't make money on comics. It makes money on Literally Everything Else. Its IP makes money, it's just that Marvel's IP is historically generated through comics.) And if you wanna do graphic novels and you have recognisability already, book publishers are the obvious way to go.

Nah. They'll charge a publisher money for the license and then, if it goes tits up, all they've lost is the hypothetical profit that success would have given them, and at least they can still pocket their fee. Film and animation are different because they can bring in big money on a scale comics can't match.

As always, I recommend the Twine essay "The Problem With Comics" for a deep dive into the historical issues that caused this situation in the American comics industry.

[enigmatist17]

Some LAATi's were designed for short trips in hyperspace, so I'm using what little canon about my favorite ships for this :)

---------

Rex knows he's going to upset a lot of people.

He's going to be in a lot of trouble, but Rex knows he has to do it.

Surprisingly, sneaking his way onto a LAATi and taking off before anyone was the wiser was the easy part. He'd remembered his training from before Tipoca was theirs, so the piloting controls were familiar for a takeoff, albeit a bumpy one that he hoped no one noticed. Going into space was spectacular, knowing that this time he was able to see the way the skies vanish and the stars replace the view, and if he hadn't been in such a hurry, he might have just sat there for a good hour taking it all in.

Fox needed his help, so coordinates from a past journey are punched in, and Rex sees hyperspace for the first time.

It wasn't a one-stop journey, the LAATi's had only been modified for short jumps, but it had been the closest ship that wasn't being extensively used. Rex had to make do, but he was taught to do just as much in battle, so this was of little consequence. His pack full of rations was more than enough for the several-day journey, and if he wasn't watching the constant swirl of hyperspace, he was studying up on schematics he'd stolen of the Guard barracks.

Now, the hard part was where he was going to land on Coruscant.

The city planet was bigger than he could ever have imagined, but Rex didn't have time to play starry-eyed tourist. It was easy enough to follow the military travel lanes down to the closest landing pad to the Jedi Temple, and his landing was much smoother from his first take-off. Grabbing his pack, Rex took a breath before departing from his ship, and winced almost immediately when the doors opened to reveal a trooper with his arms crossed.

"Rex."

Uh oh

"Yes sir?" Rex's shoulders slumped as Cody looked at him with a frown, arms crossed with two other clones standing at attention behind him.

"Is there any reason you took a transport all the way to Coruscant?" The older clone doesn't sound impressed, and watches Rex squirm for a moment before straightening to attention and looking right up at him.

"Commander Fox needs help, and I couldn't just sit and do nothing." Cody tilted his head ever so slightly, so Rex continued. "I tried contacting Commander Thire, but got the same error when I tried contacting Commander Fox. The rest of you were busy, so I...just snuck off-world and came here."

Well, he was already screwed, might as well be truthful about it.

"Trouble how?" Cody knelt down as he removed his bucket, looking concerned as the cadet seems relieved to be trusted.

"I don't know...I got this feeling that he was really really scared, and then just nothing."

"A feeling?" One of the men behind Cody sounds confused, while the other seems shocked. "Sir, you don't think..."

"Since you're here, let's go check on him together." Cody abruptly stands up, turning to the man who hadn't spoken yet. "Tell General Kenobi we may need him to meet us at the Senate building."

"Yes sir!" The man salutes and darts off with the other at his heels.

"Come on, you've come so far." Rex jumps when Cody offers a hand, and the cadet follows the elder clone further into the landing bay. They don't immediately leave, instead, Cody directs Rex to one of the storage buildings, where a supply specialist stands to attention immediately.

"I need a cadet set of gear...and two DC-17 blasters," Cody says after regarding Rex for a moment, and the officer nods before vanishing among the many crates stacked around. "I know Wolffe has been training you, and you've taken to dual blasters."

Rex smiles, and Cody rolls his eyes.

The armor fits Rex like a glove he didn't realize he'd been missing, and while the blasters are a little big, Rex understands why most of the older clones are never without.

"You are to stay close to me." Since he's landed, Cody slips his bucket on, and Rex looks at the one in his hands before slowly putting it on. It takes a moment, but Rex adjusts to the small display around him, and soon it looks as if he's never put a helmet on. "How is it?"

"Weird, but it's just like the simulations." Rex hums, feeling like a proper clone for the first time. "Let's get moving, I'm worried."

Cody doesn't respond, motioning for Rex to follow as he heads toward the local traversal pad. Rex tries hard not to press against the windows of the shuttle to take in the city, and Cody pretends not to notice his eagerness to soak it all in. The eagerness fades when they get close to the Senate building, and Cody is concerned to see that Rex feels that... bone-chilling dread that surrounded the building, the cadet pulling his hand away from the side of the ship.

"What is that?"

"Be strong kih'vod." It's all he can say when they exit the shuttle, and instead of going up the massive stairs, Cody leads Rex around the building toward what one would consider a back entrance. The two brothers guarding the door snap at attention when Cody comes into view, but are clearly curious about the cadet right on his heels.

"Sir, we weren't aware you were coming." The man on the right of the door speaks up, and Rex can tell the man is running off pure exhaustion.

"Let's call this a surprise visit." Cody doesn't bark at the two guards, and Rex watches in silence as they fall from their regulation stance.

"You should talk to Thire, I think he's awake now." Rex feels something coil in his gut as Cody gives a small nod, and the two enter the barracks of the Coruscant Guard.

The first thing Rex sees is just...nothing. Little to no furniture, walls older than all of them put together painted with a blinding white that was hard to look at, and the entire place smelled like a medbay. Cody doesn't seem surprised as he heads down the closest hallway, and that feeling of dread washes over the duo as they head deeper into the Senate building.

Commander Thire was indeed awake, if one were to call it that.

Rex can see blood dotting through his blacks and onto his mostly red armor, the man standing upright as he slowly works on some report in his hands. His helmet tips up ever so slightly when Cody pauses in the doorway, and after a moment Thire taps his fingers on the back of his datapad three times, making the motion look like he was flexing stiff fingers.

"What's wrong?" Rex whispered as Cody knelt down, surveying the room in silence.

"He's under surveillance, we can't help him right now." Rex shakes his head in dismay as Cody stands back up, but bites his tongue as they move further into the building. For a brief moment, right as they leave, Rex can feel a gentle hum in the back of his mind, as if being reassured. Rex returns the feeling back from where it had come from, not sure what he was doing exactly, but knew instinctively it worked. He and Cody travel to an elevator, the older clone seeming to know exactly where they needed to go as it rises rapidly up into the building, away from the horrible Guard barracks.

A general Rex had only seen once so far is waiting for them when they arrive to what seemed the top floor, but doesn't get a word in before a feeling of pain and agony washes over the clones.

"Fox is in trouble!" Rex darts off before either man can stop him, just following the feeling that permeated the entire floor. The pressure builds and builds as Rex rounds a corner, and sees a door that would normally have been posted with guards. He's about to go for the door when someone grabs the back of his armor and lifts the cadet back behind some cover, Cody dropping him like a hot rock.

"You are to stay here, got it?" Rex nods, knowing the tone when Cody has slipped into his battle mode. "Do not go to that door until we come for you, do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Rex gives a salute, and Cody pauses before giving the younger clone his comm.

"If we don't come out, you're to raise the alarm. Comm everyone with it, and tell them to come here and end it."

"End what?"

"They'll know." Cody kneels down and presses his forehead against Rex's before standing up, following the Jetti who had watched them in silence.

Rex watches them go, and prays to the Force they'll be alright.

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 19: Hypnosis

Summary: The infected troopers start to move the captives into the unfinished hive for temporary storage. Obi-wan attempts to reason with them, but comes to a disheartening conclusion on what he must do to disrupt the parasite's control.

Warning: Slight mind manipulation (the morality of using Jedi Mind Tricks is put into question)

Dogma's design should give a vague idea of what Cody looks like since they belong to the same cast

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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In many ways the infected moved as if they were one singular creature. Their coordination and timing (things which most clones already had fine-tuned due to years of training) so incredibly in sync that it felt like watching an actual hivemind at work. One single entity with several bodies that worked on a precise set of tasks, like a conveyor belt in a factory line.

In reality, Obi-wan knows that's not it. The adaptations forced upon the men were ones he recognized on species of eusocial insects, that relied heavily on different kinds of pheromones to communicate. The infected are purely going off scent and hierarchy rather than an actual mind-meld. But their boosted cooperative skills are still impressive nonetheless.

That said, he really wishes that were not the case...

Especially not when he and the remaining healthy troopers were being carted off for storage. Set aside for whenever (if at all) Tup returned. Bound and unable to do anything about it. Their attempts to bring the sick to reason going on deaf ears.

Or, if they annoyed the mutated troopers just a little too much, they would get a low growl or a threatening hiss for their troubles. Sometimes the quick snap of jaws as well, but mostly they were ignored completely. The infected's devotion to their new leader far outweighing any familiarity they might have had with their healthy vode.

The parasites controlling them keeping far too firm a grip.

Obi-wan could, in a way, understand why such a creature would evolve to be this insidious. In as hostile an environment like Umbara, survival of the fittest meant doing just about anything to make it out on top. These parasites, the Umber Blight, had become some of the most naturally cruel arthropods he ever did lay his eyes upon. But, as understanding as he may be of how evolution worked, the Jedi could not bring himself to forgive these beings's true nature.

Not when they had used the troopers, his friends, in such a horrific manner. Starting off by relying heavily on the insecurities and fears of a rookie to spread their influence, and then making all of the men who'd fallen victim become mere mockeries of their true selves.

Identity was everything to a clone. Obi-wan had learned this early on, when he was still getting acquainted with helping to lead an army. Had done everything he could to deserve to get to know the fine young souls that he would be working with regularly, and that he'd slowly become endeared to. Been as openly supportive of their expressions of self, when he'd found out just how oppressive their upbringing had been. So seeing these loyal and kind-hearted soldiers lose that part of themselves, was like having a hot knife stabbed deep into his ribcage. And then subsequently watching those who still had their minds look at their vode with such distress, was like having that blade twisted and turned until everything it touched was torn into fine ribbons.

The unnecessary cruelty made his blood boil. His thoughts racing as he tried to reign it all in.

A Jedi did not submit to rage after all. They mulled over what upset them, processed that particular pain, and released it into the Force. Cleared their thoughts of all ill will and let themselves be guided towards a better solution.

Striking in anger would not benefit anyone. Least of all the victims of this disease.

"Cody..." He tried to speak calmly. Not wanting to come off as far too firm or condescending, when everyone else was relying on him being able to get through to the Commander. "My dear friend, I understand you are bound by honor to complete your duties towards your... Hive... But I must implore you to see reason. You know this isn't right."

The mutated Commander's antennae twitched as he spoke. A sign that he was listening, but not necessarily hearing what the Jedi had to say. Just aware of the noise coming from his direction.

It was a far cry from how he usually behaved.

"Spreading this to the others won't do them any good." He continued, hoping that if he insisted, that eventually he might get through to his second in command. "That is just what the parasite wants you all to think."

9 pairs of eyes turned to regard him with blatant disinterest.

The split in the middle of Cody's bottom jaw widening as he proceeded to yawn, giving the Jedi a nice view of his mouth. From the silk glands that lazily dripped thick strands of webbing, to the elongated and split tongue with protruding spikes, down to the bizarre proboscis-like appendage his esophagus had turned into, the Commander's wide articulated maw was nothing if not intimidating to look upon.

An attempt at a facsimile set of insect jaws that just came off as disconcerting when attached to a clone's otherwise human face.

"Am I boring you?" Obi-wan asked, sounding somewhat amused as he did so. "You seem tired..."

Instead of responding, Cody simply carried on with his current affairs. Most of which revolved around wrapping each and every one of the captive uninfected troopers in strong silk. Not enough to cover them up in cocoons (Cody most definitely did not produce that much silk of his own, nor had Obi-wan seem him spit up the same yellow adhesive Tup seemed to be able to naturally produce), but definitely enough to keep them immobilized during transport.

Each trooper that he'd bound up having then been carried off by one of the other infected, who's forms were distinctly different from the one Cody had taken on.

Lighter in build with less spikes or a stinger of their own. Still very much their natural height instead of the noticeable boost the Commander had gained. Unable to fly as they did not possess a set of wings. They also only had a total of 5 eyes whereas Tup had 7 and Cody had 9. Most likely because they were meant to remain indoors at all times, rather than traverse outside where good vision would be most needed.

Each cast definitely had their own set of specialties, as he noted some of the men who'd fully transformed had stomachs that were slightly larger than the average build of a standard clone trooper. For those mutated men in particular, their gasters were also rounder and larger instead of being heart-shaped and evenly sized.

They were also mostly just watching the proceedings with mild curiosity, instead of helping the others transport the prisoners. Perhaps unsure of what to do if they were not currently tasked with doing what they were most likely 'designed' to do.

At the very least their inactivity didn't seem to upset the others. Some of which checked up on them and very gently chirped as if to give reassurance. Obi-wan at least assumed this was the case, as he watch as a transformed Crys nudged an equally transformed Reed, taking the slightly rounder trooper by the hand and guiding him along.

"I think they might be Repletes." Canivete murmured from just slightly below him. At this point, only Obi-wan, Canivete and Waxer remained attached to the web. Cody had just managed to pin down Tacet to begin wrapping them up. "In ant societies, the repletes are essentially living food storage compartments, that remain in the nest to feed other ants. They fill up their social stomachs with so much food that the gaster swells to about the size of a grape..."

"That's nasty..." Waxer grimaced. He was hanging to Obi-wan's right, one of his boots the only thing in his line of sight. "How big do you think a vod could get if they followed the same logic?"

"Given the fact ants get as big as they get? From the larger bellies and gasters alone, I'm pretty sure they could put a puffer pig to shame." Cani mused. "I doubt it's gonna be a comfortable experience..."

"Stars..."

Cody passed Tacet onto the nearest trooper, moving on to grab at Waxer to begin yet another flurry of wrapping. None of the lieutenant's words getting through to his brother either. There was no talking sense into any of them... So long as the parasites had full control, the men would be forced to obey their new leader's orders.

The power of their suggestions simply too much to work around.

"..." blinking a few times, Obi-wan hummed and furrowed his brow as he began to contemplate that thought.

"You doing ok, sir?" Canivete asked as she noticed the change in his demeanor.

The parasites certainly had a powerful hold of the men's minds. Of that, he had no question. But could they withstand a Force Suggestion if he were to give it to them? They seemed to rely heavily on the men's own mental faculties to understand certain social constructs and ideas. Perhaps if he used a Jedi Mind Trick on the men, it might temporarily disrupt the hold the parasites had?

"General?" Canivete insisted, the medic sounding concerned for his sake.

"I believe I may have an idea..." He told her, frowning as he thought of the consequences implementing said idea, would later bring. Mostly, he knew he would be crossing a line with the men. Especially with Cody, who he'd once discussed this specific ability with. "But it is not one I'm particularly proud of..."

"Whatever works..." The web was slightly tugged, which he assumed was from Canivete shrugging. Or attempting to.

Waxer was already being dragged off. Cody was approaching. It was now or never...

"You will stop what you're doing and listen carefully to what I say." The Jedi tried to keep his voice as clear and even as possible, watching with bitter sadness as the Commander paused in his tracks to stare up at him clearly confused. "Now you will let go of the Commander and sleep for a little while..."

At that, Cody stood up ramrod straight in the same manner he'd done when Tup had first roared. Claiming control over the newly infected and setting them against the healthy. Pitch black eyes widened in mild shock, the mutated clone's mandibles beginning to click in distress. Antennae, arms and wings twitching as control was wrestled out of the parasite's grasp.

And then Cody let out a sudden gasp and violently shook his head.

"Was that a karking Force Suggestion?!" Canivete yelped, clearly horrified at the idea of her General using something of the sort on her siblings.

"It was the only thing I could think to try..." Obi-wan sheepishly admitted sheepishly, trying not to think too hard about it as he looked back to the shaking Commander. "Cody... Are you alright?"

".̴.̶.̸.̴.̶" Cody opened and closed his mouth several times before glancing up at the two of them in question. He regarded them for a couple of seconds before glancing down at his own body. Multiple emotions surging across his face before he regained his composure and looked back up at them again. "T̷h̶a̸t̶ ̶w̷a̷s̸n̷'̷t̵.̴.̶.̷ ̶G̶r̶e̸a̴t̴.̷.̴.̷"

"Oh crap, it worked..." Canivete sounded astonished.

"It seems to have, yes..." Which meant he'd need to do it for every single one of the infected men. Which put Obi-wan ill at ease, since he didn't like to do this sort of thing to anyone he was fond of.

Least of all to the troopers who considered trust to be everything.

Needless to say, he'd need to have a serious conversation with a lot of people once this entire mess was over. And perhaps maybe arrange a visit to the Mind Healers, since he was more than certain this entire ordeal would haunt him for the foreseeable future...

[racefortheironthrone]

It was interesting to read you say that the American system isn't set up for political compromise. Considering how easy it is to clog up the system so that nothing can get done - the filibuster, for example - I thought that the US system was set up to encourage political compromise.

This is something of a national mythology, that the American constitutional system was designed for political compromise. In reality, if we think both structurally and follow the theory laid out in Federalist 10, the intent of the U.S constitutional order was to restrain political factionalism through the creation of institutional checks and balances, with the idea being that politicians would jealously guard the interests of their institutions (be that the Executive, Legislative, or Jeudicial) over the interests of any political faction.

In contradiction to the conservative vision of American history that the U.S Constitution was the perfect and un-perfectable work of enlightened statesmen, if we examine actual American political history, this model of politics broke down immediately. National political parties - the Federalists and Democratic-Republicans - were formed by men who had decried the evils of political factions, and politicians began to prioritize building majority coalitions with their fellow partisans, if only to allow the basic political functions of assembling enough votes to pass legislation and coordination of policy between the political branches, almost immediately.

Political parties, in turn, developed intensely consequentialist and highly mutable views of American political institutions: when they were in the minority in Congress, Democratic-Republicans decried federal overreach and preached a radical form of anti-federalism...until they won the majority in the elections of 1800 and rediscovered the virtues of federal authority. Likewise, the Federalist Party rapidly shifted from a celebration of Executive authority under Washington and Hamilton to an emphasis on the Supreme Court under Marshall when they lost the presidency to Jefferson and their Congressional majority.

And then, in spite of everything that was designed to do the opposite, the U.S fell into a multi-decade period of single-party rule followed up by the gradual and then inevitable derailing of all politics that wasn't oriented along the lines of pro- and anti-slavery that completely paralyzed the country for a generation until the Civil War forced the establishment of an entirely different political and Constitutional order.

The point here is that, if we discount a very few mythologized compromises (most of which fell apart almost immediately under partisan poltical pressure), the early American constitutional order was characterized as one of wild experimentation, kludges and other short-term solutions, and near-constant crisis.

As for features that supposedly engender compromise, they usually actually engendered political gridlock instead: for example, the filibuster was a complete accident that Aaron Burr accidentally introdiuced to the Senate in 1805 that wasn't actually used until the 1840s (at which time the House eliminated the filibuster in its chamber), and that immediately was dominated by the politics of slavery, causing near-complete governmental paralysis by the 1850s.

[lesb0]

Ms Terra, I'd like to ask your advice on something as a lesbian in the professional art field who's further along in her career: currently I'm in graduate art school and of course the men in the program and degrading, overconfident, etc etc you likely know exactly what type of man I'm talking about. I've been told I'm wrong and ignorant for not wanting to be around men with swastika tattoos, I've been mocked and ridiculed in art history when I jokingly said shopenhaur and other deeply mysoginistic philosophers probably just liked hearing themselves talk (man said " that's stupid because all women do is yap"), I've had innappropriate advances from grads pushing 40 when I'm an out masc lesbian, Ive had my professor completely ditch me during a process I was unfamiliar with to go help a male grad for an hour, neglected from funding, neglected from support, been turned away when I raised concerns about a loser male student in his 30s trying to get close to/take ownership of a wonderful bright female 19 yr old student, AND MORE.

My issue is because of this, I want nothing to do with these men in my program anymore. I want to cold shoulder, ignore, not talk or have relations with these men point blank period. They've belittled me, made me incredible uncomfortable, and made me feel unwelcome. It doesn't help that the grad coordinator/my direct professor is a butterfly collector type dude who keeps around a possee of 30s dudes just so they can bro out and he can show off his special boys.

My friend says I shouldn't do this because I'm inevitably going to have to talk to them so I may as well be cordial to get things I want or need. My argument is that the material cost and potential increased difficulty In doing/getting things is a price I am willing to pay as the toll I pay emotionally from dealing with them men around me is much higher. I feel as if my pride is in the line too, I as a lesbian I don't want to owe men anything or give them an avenue of interraction.

How do you navigate dealing men in your career? How do you deal with their bullshit in a professional, artistic academic setting? I know deep down it's unrealistic later in my career to go about things the way I want to, but I'm at my breaking point right now unless I start to totally disregard the men in my program. I've been burned for all of undergrad and now half of my grad experience and I'm so tired of it. I have a wonderful female ceramics professor I can turn to for mentorship and guidance, so I don't feel totally adrift with no allies if I do change focuses so I don't have to deal with the grad coordinator/my current professor, but when I'm one of three female grads VS eight older male grads, it becomes a difficult to actually be able to do what I want to do.

Oh this all sounds nightmarish, but it isn't too late to transfer into a female run, female dominant program. Your ceramics professor can help you get into a better environment while apps are still open. Your cohort is your network, and likely none of them will help you get your foot in the door at the places they work. I've designed and selected several aspects of my life and career to be explicitly feminist, specifically to avoid this situation.

Good luck!