#having to decide between her mother/her career and earn is simply cruel

[choosingwhatmatters]

Oh!, my heart. When it comes to Earn and Lada this episode, I'm in for all of it. (Except for Lada's blind forgiveness, that is just baffeling to me.) I am in for the teasing and the cuddling and all the kisses. But what I appreciate most is that they are both making such an effort.

Earn is actively looking for jobs that don't involve Engfah. Lada waits for her in the car and is all cute about it. Sometimes it's hard to deliver in a relationship, especially because there are often the interests of other people working against you. But those two, they're not all talk. They are IN and so am I.

[fuckyeahjonesy]

THE KISS OF DAWN (16+)

This fanfic is partly based on a true story, which happened in 2012 in Austria, with different names and profession.

Ben Hardy is one of the most popular British stars, but the price for the fame is getting bigger. While everyone else is happily in love around him, he simply can't find his place and it's getting way harder for him to trust someone. Due to the failed dates and failed attempts to get into a relationship, he's feeling lost and hopeless... until the day he receives a mysterious letter... 

PART 1. - THE FIRST SNOW

He woke up for the first snow. Even though it was time for that, he was quite surprised to notice the white flakes falling outside, as he was about to make his morning coffee. He looked out of the window, and his plump lips curled into a smile, as he recalled many sweet, lovely childhood memories regarding the snowy England. His dad would build the tallest snowman in town. And then he lifted up the little boy to let him finish the procedure and place the carrot nose on the head. “We made it again, daddy!” -shouted the little Ben with a big gap between his front teeth (they were expecting a visit from tooth fairy that night), and jumped up to give his father a proud high five. The next step was giving him a name. They always chose a different name for their snowmen, and as long as he stood outside, he belonged to the family. Ben always felt like he got a new brother for a while. Winter was a season full of magic, and for Benjamin Jones the biggest magic was being loved.

The coffee machine beeped loudly, and the sound pulled him back to reality; or back to the emptiness of his flat, to be more exact. He poured the coffee in a mug he got from his mother. “Not a morning person” was written on it, and it said a lot about him. No matter, how many hours he slept, waking up was always a cruel challenge for him. Not even mentioning the mornings after a heavy party night. Ugh, let’s just quickly forget about that.

Ben leaned against the cupboard and started drinking his coffee, while he unlocked his phone to check his e-mails & notifications. His messy, blonde locks were almost long enough to shield his sight. He was wearing an old t-shirt and underwear. Even if the shirt itself was quite loose, the shape of his muscular chest was perfectly visible. The veins on his hands were like wild rivers flooding down the biggest forests, to keep the spirit of nature alive. He was an utterly beautiful creature, someone you could stare at for hours.

After finishing his coffee he set his Spotify playlist on shuffle, and decided to take a quick shower. He was hoping he'd feel refreshed faster by that. He’s working on a movie now, and he doesn’t allow himself to act poorly or make any mistakes. The work continues today and he wants to prove them why he’s there. Thank God, his career was a real blessing lately. His hard work is finally paying off. Big names, legendary directors, talented actors, exciting storylines, positive critics, supportive fans, funny interviews and a fantastic salary with many benefits. Ben has reached a level he has always dreamed of. But there were some lonely nights and quiet mornings, that made him to think about it all. And he always felt like something is missing. He undressed, stepped into the shower cabin and turned the water on. As its temperature got warm enough, he took a deep breath and stood underneath the shower head. His nipples turned immediately hard, as the first hot drops landed on his smooth skin. He put some shower gel on his palm, and started spreading it all over his body. In the meantime, his mind couldn’t stop racing for a single minute.

Almost all of his friends were in a relationship, or engaged, or married… and he never dared to confess it, even to himself, but sometimes he was jealous of their happiness. He was with a girl for 9 years, and took love for granted. And then his relationship ended, but it felt good to taste freedom after such a long time. He loved being a popular man who could get literally anyone.

Yeah, it was a good game for a while, but as the time passed by, he started feeling like he needed a change. He always heard sentences like: “Oh wow, you’re that famous actor, right? What are you doing later?” or “My friend says you’re in a movie, who are you?” or “I saw you in Borhap, you must earn a good money, what kind of car do you have? Would you take me for a ride?” or “You should take me to a restaurant, my friends will never believe who I went out with!”

Nobody on Earth asked him how he feels or what he’s thinking about. They felt so special about hanging out with Ben Hardy, yet nobody cared about what’s going on with Benjamin Jones. He felt like fame was a mask, and most of the people cared only about the fancy part of his life.

And the more famous he became, the harder it was for him to let people closer. He was often insecure, confused, anxious. Failed dates and failed attempts to get into a relationship made it hard for him to generally trust anyone. He didn’t understand why it was happening, but he felt like the problem was himself. And he had no idea how to make it work.

He saw his friends being happy lovebirds, building a future together with the one chosen by their heart. Weddings, kids, the first holiday as a family. And then, there was Ben, who’s about to turn 30, and sometimes he feels like he’d rather be a damn rugby trainer, but at least he had someone by his side, who loves him for who he is, and not for the celebrity who’s harrassed by the awful British media.

He turned off the water, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Being lonely was like a shadow in his life. Sometimes it was behind him, sometimes it disappeared, but at the end it always returned, like a scary nightmare. He missed cuddling up with someone, experiencing funny moments with someone, falling asleep in the arms of someone, sharing a meal with someone that looked ugly because he cooked it, but at least it was made with love. He missed calling someone at the end of a long workday and telling her all the interesting stuff he did that day for the first time in his life. He missed asking for an advice from someone he can fully trust. He missed having sex with someone he passionately loves and admires from the bottom of his heart, and wasn't just raw fucks from Instagram. He missed the taste of good morning kisses. He missed feeling safe and sound, because someone was by his side.

And what he missed the most was belonging to someone. Just like those snowmen belonged to him, when he was a kid.

He brushed his teeth, dressed, and packed everything in his backpack. He's going to have breakfast with his colleagues before work. He put his winter jacket on, switched the lights off, and stepped out, right into the ass cold winter.

He woke up for the first snow that day. And he had no clue yet, that this day will change his view about the first snow forever.

[icanonlyimagine]

Legacy

Captain Pike x Reader

Words: 2,585

Imagine:  Your commitment to your career in Starfleet and relationship with your captain is questioned while on Earth at Starfleet Headquarters. ‘You’ identified as Y/N.

Earth was visible from the observation deck and many crew members were exchanging childhood stories while waiting to beam down for leave. You smiled at familiar faces as you began your journey to the transporter room for your scheduled departure. While Captain Pike and a handful of the senior officers had obligations on Earth, the majority of the crew would simply be enjoying the time at home. Starfleet had called many of it's key players home to establish the best plan of action regarding two recently discovered planets. There was a hope that the end result would be inclusion in the Federation and it seemed promising. Engineering would be reporting briefly to Command about successful upgrades to the warp drive and you'd been asked to speak on those upgrades. You were happy to share any information but mostly looked forward to the time spent visiting your mother. It had been months since you'd last spoken and longer still since you'd seen her. 

Assignment to the U.S.S. Enterprise was an honor and you were proud to call it home. Your family had a long history of serving in Starfleet and your enlistment had been decided for you long before you knew what that meant. It would be convenient to tell the story of a girl who grew up dreaming of joining Starfleet but the reality was that of a father who had risen through the ranks to that of admiral who was uninterested in entertaining any other profession for his only child. It wasn't that he was cruel. Your father had never been anything but determined that you would uphold the family legacy. Your mother was supportive and attempted to intervene by advocating for you to your father. He did not waiver. As a child, you had been eager to please but as a teenager, it had done irreparable damage to your relationship with him. You only consented to leaving for the academy in attempt to put distance between you and your father's expectations. Fortunately, you flourished at the academy. With you gone, your mother had left your father to his service to Starfleet and began pursuing her own future separate from him. Whatever had brought them together in the first place had been long gone before you were old enough to remember. There were no feelings of animosity from either of them. Your mother was free to live as she chose and your father remained fervently committed to Starfleet. 

Hopeful that you would be able to avoid the admiral, you entered the transport room to instantly catch the eye of Captain Pike. You nodded your head out of respect and that earned you a raised brow. You hadn't expected him to be a part of your group beaming to the surface but it made sense. Everyone with an itinerary first and then the rest of the crew. The captain held your gaze for a moment more before Number One said something that drew his attention away. Your latest argument played over again in your mind and made you straighten your uniform to calm yourself. If you could even call it that. He challenged you and you sputtered in response before snapping back. Apparently, Captain Christopher Pike had taken up the hobby of infuriating you to no end. If you were honest, you enjoyed his challenges in retrospect. They'd always pushed you to look closer and do better. It was large part of the reason you were presenting today. It wasn't the captain's fault that you spent the rest of your shift flushed and hopeful that he had not picked up on the fact that you could not stop staring at him. Lt. Commander Sullivan had been sure to point out that the captain had spent an awful lot of time in Engineering recently. He'd been thoroughly amused when you'd turned red and attempted to throw your PADD at him. In fact, you could practically feel Sullivan suppressing laughter when you moved to stand next to him on the transporter pad. To top it off, you'd be spending the morning with him and were sure that it would come up.

Thankfully, as soon as you arrived on the surface, the captain and his officers were pulled into their own meetings. Sullivan made a comment or two about the captain but once you arrived to your own destination, he was too focused on the presentation to continue to tease you. The remainder of the morning was uneventful and you were pleased with the conversation that had transpired among the other engineering crew members in attendance. It felt good to be among like minded officers and all focused on advancing their capabilities for the benefit of all. Sullivan had already left to begin travel home and you were about to do so yourself. Caught up in the excitement of seeing your mother, you were quick to pack up your materials and rush into the halls of Starfleet Headquarters. If you had been paying attention, you'd have noticed a figure approaching you.

"I would have expected you to have been assigned to run Engineering aboard a starship by now." The sound of your father's voice instantly straightening your spine and had you standing at attention. You'd known this was a possibility but did not expect your own reaction. They did say old habits die hard.

"I am learning a great deal from Lt. Commander Sullivan aboard the Enterprise." You attempted to sound indifferent but could hear the defensiveness in your tone. A member of Starfleet and crew on one of the most reputable ships in the fleet, and still it was not enough. The admiral circled around where you stood at attention with a raised brow.

"I suppose you would consider that an accomplishment." His hand reaching out to straighten your color and sighing when you flinched. "You have always lacked vision when it comes to your future in Starfleet."

You felt your face flush in anger and you would have argued had you not noticed Captain Pike approaching with Number One from your left. The captain's eyes connected with yours before he motioned for Number One to go on without him. You snapped your mouth shut as to not involve the captain in your argument. Captain Pike appeared to notice that something was amiss between the two of you and you saw a question in his eyes. The 'Do you need me?' was plain in his expression and you dismissed it with a slight shake of your head. The captain then took the opportunity to look at the admiral. Recognition lit in his eyes.

"Admiral Y/L/N." Captain Pike reached out his hand which your father reciprocated. "I have to say it is honor to have someone as bright as Y/N serving in Engineering aboard the Enterprise. She's been invaluable. You must be proud."

The admiral took in Captain Pike and your reaction to him. You saw anger flash on his face before pulled his hand free from the captain. Not knowing what he saw there, your eyes widened when he was in front of you in a flash.  Captain Pike stopped in confusion and watched you both in an attempt to understand what was happening.

"Is this why you are not pursuing advancement?" Something akin to a snarl accompanied his words. You had never heard your father's voice be anything but dismissive. The confusion must of shown on your face because he elaborated much to your horror. "Sabotaging everything for the attention of a captain?"

You choked on your own response being unable to verbalize your denial with the captain standing with an alarmed expression on his face. How could he think you were only on board the Enterprise because of Captain Pike? Attraction was there but it had never influenced your career. You saw the captain begin to protest but you held up a hand to stop him. You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

"If you think that is the only reason, you do not know me at all." Your voice quivered and your father let out a humorless laugh.

"Your response tells me all I need to know." Your father's eyes narrowed. "Do you think you are the only one to be sidelined by the wandering eyes of a captain?"

"That's enough, Admiral Y/L/N." The admiral's eyes snapped to Captain Pike. You thought perhaps your father had intentions to continue to berate you but thought better of it as he took in your captain's expression. "The meeting is scheduled to start, I'd hate for you to be late."

Your father's face had more feeling in it than you had ever had the opportunity to see before. He was clearly furious at being cut off by the captain but thought better of arguing with him while other members of Starfleet Command walked past in route to that same meeting. In what you could only imagine was the closest to a fit of rage you father had ever let be seen in public, he stormed off with the captain trailing behind him. Captain Pike glanced back at you with a stiff nod before continuing on.

You leaned against the wall and attempted to settle your nerves. You moved away from the busy hallway and into a deserted outdoor lounge. Before you'd even truly taken a breath, Captain Pike reappeared at your side. Close enough you could feel the heat radiating off his skin but not enough to touch. You looked up and saw that he was wholly focused on the crowd passing by. You bit back tears that threatened to fall and turned to watch as well. How could you ever explain what just happened? Your father had essentially accused you of being a whore trying to trap a captain for yourself. Progressive as Starfleet was, apparently your father had missed those lessons. That is when you felt the captain's hand slowly entwine with yours. 

If it had stopped there, you would have wrote it off as a comforting gesture following a rather brutal encounter with your father. But then it didn't stop at just your hand, soon the length of your arms were touching and then you found yourself being pulled into his side with his arm holding you to him. You curled into him. You could feel his heart beat against your cheek and found that while his face appeared passive, he was clearly feeling differently.  You couldn't see his face but you knew he was still watching the crowd. You tried not to read into it. You'd already been accused of as much even if it was by someone who you hadn't seen in almost a decade.

"Captain, I-" Your voiced was strained with all of the unshed tears. You pulled away from him, not wanting to shy away from your explanation and eventual apology you were about to give.

"I do not know what I just walked in on," he breathed in slowly. "However, I can assure you that I have never questioned your abilities or passion for your career in Starfleet."

"Thank you, sir. I-" 

"I should also add, that you father's reaction may have been my fault." You glanced up to see his mouth twisted in a humorless smile. Before you could disagree, he continued. "I should have not pursued you as I have been. Your father is not wrong in the fact that captain's have a responsibility to facilitate growth in their crew not hinder it."

"Captain Pike, all you have ever done is push me to do better. I wouldn't have achieved all that I have without you challenging me to do better. And-" He held your gaze and his smile turned almost sad. Suddenly, all of the conversations the two of you had when you thought he as simply pushing you to do better and the teasing from Sullivan flooded your mind. He'd been pursuing you? The entire time you'd been worried he would be uncomfortable with your attraction for him and he'd been intentionally spending time with you. "-Oh."

"You did not deserve what he said but I did. I apologize for what that has led to." Captain Pike straightened and looked away from you. He looked as if he was going to walk away and with every ounce of courage you had, you reached for his hand to pull him back.

"I spent every day hoping you would come to engineering while also dreading it." You sounded more sure then you thought you would. He was still facing away from you but he'd stopped moving. You took a deep breath before you continued "Because you challenged me to be better. Because you infuriated me by constantly pushing. Because I wanted you there. Because I didn't know what to do once you were. Because I had no idea how I was supposed to hide what I was feeling knowing you couldn't possibly feel the same about me."

He did not respond but did not pull away either. It felt as if the room was frozen and time had stopped. You just confessed an awful lot to someone who had only said the pursued you. What if he had meant something different?The anxiety you were experiencing began to fade when he stepped forward and pressed his mouth against your forehead. Your hands moved to capture the fabric on his sleeves. In the next moment his hand was on your jaw and tilting your face toward his. Everything was so painfully slow and when his lips touched yours it seemed as if the room may have begun to burn. Soft at first until they were firmly planted against yours. A low groan came from deep in his chest and quickly your arms were around his neck crashing him down to you. He was quick in his response and hauled you up against him with both arms locked behind your back. The sound of conversation from the hall slowly became louder and it was enough for both of you to pull away. You were still at Starfleet Headquarters and you face flushed for what had to have been the hundredth time. You looked up into the face of the captain and saw a wide smile.

"I love it when you do that." You smacked his arm and captured it as you went to pull it back. He lifted it and placed a firm kiss on your knuckles while watching you. Surely, at some point looks from this man would not send heat racing to your face. Though you secretly hoped that it would never stop.

"Captain, maybe it's time we left head quarters." After all, kissing the man you father had just accused you of whoring around with right in the middle of Starfleet Headquarters was probably not the best choice. It was inviting unwanted speculation even if there had been no real cause for it until your father provoked it. The captain released your hand and you moved to retrieve your discarded belongings.

"Wait." You hesitated at the tone and waited to be reminded of professional boundaries. When you made eye contact with him again, you realized that was not the intention. "I think it is alright for you to call me Christopher, Y/N."

"Well, Christopher," the name you'd imagined using for months rolling off your tongue. "What now?"

"Whatever you want, Y/N." He smiled as he walked in step with you out of headquarters. He laughed when you gave him a pointed look. "Whatever we want.

[classof99]

INTRODUCTION

Someone, somewhere, likely with a vague spectrum of power and a cruel sense of humor, decided that forcing teenagers to sit through four long years of the unmitigated hell wasn’t enough. There had to be one last “learning” component before students were unleashed into the world – i.e., the commencement speaker...

Mom liked to remind me that I fell asleep during the commencement speech at my high school graduation.

She told the story often and with great relish.

I always knew it was coming at the holidays, because a twinkling lilt would bubble up in her and she’d touch my father’s arm and remind him that local celebrity real estate agent extraordinaire Gary Pace had been our speaker (yes, where I’m from, a real estate agent can attain quasi-celebrity status if he plasters his face on the side of enough public transit). My father would pat my mother's hand in return and shoot me an apologetic look. He knew what was coming.

“We could see him from the nosebleed! Remember, honey?” she'd say to dad, talking about me like I wasn't there. “He was just sitting there and all of a sudden – bloop – his little head drops to one side, and falls onto his neighbor's shoulder,” she said, volume rising, her half-and-half tea slipping over the brim of her glass as she slapped the table in delight.

She'd turn to me directly then:

“How did you manage to fall asleep? During your high school graduation, no less!”

“Well, if you remember I worked – ” but she'd cut me off, not really asking so much as wanting to retell the story.

“ – On, uhm... who was it again?”

“Brian Goodlow”

“BRIAN GOODLOW! That's right. What a lovely boy. Do you still see him?”

You see, what mom remembers the most was the scattered laughter of my classmates as I nodded off, causing Gary Pace to lose his place (we heard later he'd taken it as a personal insult that someone -- me -- dared not to be completely spellbound by the most didactic of commencement speeches).

Not that Gary would have cared, but I had a legitimate excuse. I'd worked the previous night until 3 am as a projectionist at the movie theater. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace had just been released and I was working the midnight screenings.

I don’t remember exactly at what point I fell asleep during Gary's speech, but I do recall waking to find Brian Goodlow gently petting my hair. It was the closest we’d ever been despite always sitting next to each other due to the fact that our last name's occurred alphabetically.

Among the many things we suffered through that day, the most pandering may have been Gary Pace's self-aggrandizing speech itself:

“Dare to dream!”

“March to the beat of your own drum!”

“Live life to the fullest!”

The obvious mistake Gary Pace made here -- one shared by many highly educated alumni-turned-commencement speakers -- was that he should have known that high schoolers so close to receiving their diplomas are BEYOND learning anything new. Like, over it. They’ve spent the last 13 years absorbing every last detail that every well-meaning teacher could cram between their eyes and ears.

But what do we do? Each school invites a speaker, usually an alumni, and in our particular case, the indomitable and balding Gary Pace, to come give a speech to the bright young stars of tomorrow. He'll remind us that, decades before, he sat in the very same spot with the same ambitions we hold deep, and would serve up an onslaught of platitudes and non-sequiturs of what he'd learned since.

But we, as with most graduating classes, were a captive audience of malcontents, sweating profusely underneath our caps and gowns, generally unfazed by the generic one-size-fits-all life advice being hurled at us from notecards at the podium. I was very busy pondering that things that came next: freedom and what I could only hope would be an endless summer between me and the next four years of college.

We were the class of 1999 — the last graduating class of the millennium (also known as BCC: Before Common Core). Not since the class of 999 had there been so much self-appointed pressure for a class to “go out and do great things” – thank you, Gary, for that pearl.

While I’d like to believe that we all went on to do great things for ourselves and for society, I know it’s simply not true. Not to say that none of us did anything great, just not all nearly four hundred teenagers sitting in that auditorium that May afternoon in 1999 did. Some of us grew up, other didn’t. Some of us succeed and yet others failed and fell down. Some of us didn’t even make it far enough to note a difference.

To frame the stories that follow, please understand a few things (I’m looking at you Gen-Z)... The class of 1999 was born in 1980-81. We were the “Me Generation”, the tail end of Generation X. Latchkey kids who spent summers with MTV on while our parents were at the office. We microwaved our grilled cheeses on Styrofoam plates even though we kinda knew better. Smoking was still cool, kinda. We made it through high school without cell phones, e-mail or any relevant use of the internet which, in hindsight, has probably saved us all from a lot of embarrassment as adults. A weekend might involve a trip to the local music shop to, ya know, buy CDs. How downright old-fashioned!

But, perhaps most importantly, for the purposes of this story anyways, is that when previous generations graduated from high school, they genuinely lost track of each other which is what made a high school reunion so enjoyable. Discovering what became of everyone. Or what didn't. Today with social media, old high school acquaintances tend to circle each other in an uncomfortable, peripheral social media orbit for years and years after graduation. It's much harder to lose track of everyone, which is a true shame, because losing track of everyone after high school is a great and well-earned privilege.

As I sat there, in May 1999, at the end of my high school career, waiting to make my way up to the stage to grab my diploma, I took a moment to absorb the countless young faces around me. In a curious moment of reflection, I wondered what would happen to each of them. Would they achieve what, if anything, they sought to do with their lives. What ironies did the universe have in store for us collectively?

I catch myself remembering certain people at the most random of times – how they were then and what they made of themselves – and can only imagine what Gary Pace might have said about them. It's been my experience that the lessons you learn in real life are hardly close to the vague horseshit you’re lectured with at graduation. In fact, some time’s there no nice way to wrap up the experiences or expectations of life. Some times it just is.

After graduation, I went onto college and kept in touch with a few of my high school friends. We’d get together over summers or Christmas breaks, only to fall away from each other again afterwards. Even when we did get together, it wasn’t as if we were measuring how daring we’d all been, as Gary had suggested. We were just living our lives, however they came.

Most of my classmates went on to do what most adults try and do in the here and now: college, marriage, a few kids, maybe a divorce (but hopefully not), probably a 9 to 5. As it turns out, though, more than a few of my classmates had stories worthy of one of Gary’s platitudes.

Thanks to the unbreakable bond between Brian Goodlow and I, my mother’s general nosiness, and the burdensome genius of Facebook, Instagram, etc., I’ve managed to collect some of the more interesting stories from my class; stories about the things that actually happen after you graduate.

The following stories are true, almost entirely. However, names have been changed, identifying details have been tweaked and obvious things have been left appropriately VAGUE.

Stay awake. This time it’s worth it.

[aion-rsa]

Lucifer Season 6 Episode 6 Review: A Lot Dirtier Than That

https://ift.tt/3k5882u

This Lucifer review contains spoilers.

Lucifer Season 6 Episode 6

“You may have just met me, but I’ve known you my whole life.”

Some might say that “A Lot Dirtier Than That” comes across far too heavy handed in making its arguments about racial injustices involving the police, but sometimes it takes a sledge hammer to get people’s attention. Lucifer rarely engages in social commentary, but here it’s Amenadiel’s second brush with a bigoted detective that forces the angel to reevaluate his role as a black man working in law enforcement and puts on open display the challenges facing both the community and the men and women in blue.

Merrin Dungey as Amenadiel’s partner and mentor Officer Harris turns out to be more like the rookie cop than he initially imagines. “There’s the battles, and then there’s the war,” Harris tells Amenadiel, who can’t understand why she doesn’t more aggressively fight racism in the police force. What’s clear about their relationship though, is that they bring out the best in each other, and Harris seems willing to acknowledge that it might be time to increase her aggressiveness against the LAPD power elite. 

Amenadiel’s new career path provides a narrative change of pace now that Chloe and Lucifer no longer investigate murders for the LAPD. He’s learned a lot during his time in the City of Angels and has established a network of trusted advisers, so it’s only natural he consult Chloe and then ask Ella for help processing the crime scene. Never mind that he’s gone over his supervisor’s head, his drive to do the right thing supersedes any chain of command issues or departmental regulations. 

Now a detective, Reiben arrives at the murder scene, and it’s here that Amenadiel and the viewer flash back to the season four episode in which Caleb, a young black man is nearly killed by over zealous officers, one of whom was the then Officer Reiben. There’s no subtlety to be found in this aspect of the story, and that’s for good reason. Reiben’s disingenuous speech to Amenadiel in the conference room coupled with the detective’s insistence that the black victim is actually the perpetrator leaves no room for any conclusion other than he’s learned nothing in the interim and has the full support of those calling the shots. A grim realization no matter how you look at it.

However, it’s during the brief standoff between the backup officers and the wounded victim Michaela that we recognize an even bigger obstacle facing Amenadiel. He clearly wants to get in the line of fire and is perfectly willing to take a bullet to save the young woman, but how, then, will he explain the fact that the bullet hasn’t actually done any damage. It’s subtle, but we recognize his reticence and understand his frustration in not being able to use his full powers to police the community. And then in a wonderful scene, Harris explains to the discouraged Amenadiel why she chooses to remain on the streets in lieu of a promotion and how she manages to do the job day after day. It’s an eye opener for him, but he could not have been assigned a finer partner to help with the coming struggles.

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Well, it looks like Dan remains on Earth after all but must cope with the fact that only four people on Earth can see him. His penchant for messing with Amenadiel, however, is already feeling a bit tired, but as long as he engages in meaningful talks with other members of the team, then that minor flaw can be overlooked. Ella does her best to draw out Amenadiel, but the angel is far too focused on solving Kevin’s murders and clearing Michaela’s name. Ella’s getting closer, and at this point, it feels cruel that she’s been left in the dark. Does no one else on Team Lucifer realize this?

Of course, the main thrust of the episode and season revolves around Rory making peace with her father. While it’s likely we’ll eventually learn the circumstances surrounding Lucifer’s disappearance from her life, the real question is whether she can find it in her heart to forgive him if forgiveness is warranted. We get a good sense of the relationship she’s had with Chloe, and not surprisingly, the detective raises a wonderful young woman. Like Amenadiel’s angelic problems as a police officer, any reunion between sisters Trixie and Rory brings with it some hurdles that may not be so simple to overcome. Still, that the two grow up so close is a testament to Chloe’s mothering.

At this stage, most of the characters have sought advice about how to deal with the newest member of the clan, and Rory appears willing to give Lucifer a chance to get to know her. However, instead of drawing upon everything he’s learned from the members of Team Lucifer, he falls back into old habits and attempts to buy his daughter’s affection and forgiveness. The Christmas segment is just plain silly and stands as the quintessential Epic Fail. Undeterred, father decides to give daughter a driving lesson in the black 1962 Corvette leading to another tasty reveal. Amazed at how easily Rory handles the power and speed of the Stingray, she lands another jab at dear old dad. “Yeah, cuz it’s my car,” she tells him. Chloe taught Rory to drive.

Teaching Rory how to drive is one thing, but teaching her how to party at Lux makes the Christmas attempt pale by comparison. Really, Lucifer? Really? It’s simply not funny and in the grand scheme makes no sense. That’s how you want to earn your daughter’s respect and eventually love? Really? It’s as if Lucifer has forgotten all he’s learned about intimacy and how it’s truly achieved. Another scene that seems strictly for effect and just doesn’t succeed. Ordinarily, we perceive Lucifer singing and dancing as an episode highlight. Here, it’s simply cringe producing which is perhaps what it’s meant to achieve.

All of these failed attempts to create an unearned intimacy disappear when Lucifer returns to the penthouse and finds Rory playing guitar and singing Simon and Garfunkel’s iconic “Bridge Over Troubled Waters.” Forget the Roy Orbison tune earlier; Tom Ellis and Brianna Hildebrand absolutely crush the father/daughter duet once he sits down at the piano. All we need now is Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” playing quietly in the background. Is this enough to get these two started on a real relationship? It certainly could be, but forgive me if I’m worried that Lucifer will do something to inadvertently sabotage all the good that’s just taken place.

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Sometimes we just have to marvel at what television writers are able to pack into a typical 45 minute episode. Lucifer is at its best when it explores the intricacies of human and celestial emotion, but sometimes a bit more is required. “A Lot Dirtier Than That” more than succeeds on that front.

The post Lucifer Season 6 Episode 6 Review: A Lot Dirtier Than That appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ly3bPt

[knowthyselfrp]

         AGE RANGE: 31 //  OCCUPATION: FREELANCE DRAFTSMAN // PRONOUNS: He/him

Fire. You are fire – unstable and unpredictable; dangerous and harmful to those who come close. Your rage is like fire; fire runs in your veins. Raised in wealth and knowing nothing but, it was fire that lit up when your parents passed and you lost all that wealth; forced to become one of the people you so cruelly shunned and evaded years before. You’re left with a home filled with useless things, alone and lonely. Be thankful your servants have stayed, despite your erratic behavior, for without them, you would’ve been driven mad years ago. Your flames burn brightly and it is near impossible to extinguished. But fire can be doused by water – free, utopian, and pure.

Belle – She is water. You are polar opposites, yet there is an intense spark between the two of you. You’ve harmed her father before – something you regret doing what with the recent events – and you only agreed to stop disturbing him if she concedes to visiting you every day. Why is that? You thrive in solitude, yet you want her around you. Perhaps, without you knowing, the beast has finally start to become a man again.

Cogsworth & Lumiere – You shun them like you do with everyone. How can you be so blind? These are the very people who’ve helped you, even when you had nothing. Your hands were empty except for a trace of contempt for the world, yet they stayed by your side, loyal to you beyond anyone’s imagination. It is high time they start earning your appreciation; for not many could learn to love a beast.

How you perplex the Creator. This man has never encountered a character so consumed by his rage and so heavily influenced by his bigotry. You interest him; you confuse him – hence, you earn his partiality. Oh, how he certainly hopes you don’t try to be Belle’s hero and discover what had happened to her father. He would hate to put one of his favorites in Isolation. Keep that fire burning, Beast. Keep the Creator interested.

Bob Morley

tw // suicide mention

Once upon a time, in a city not too far from Hermosa, not that different from any other - there was a husband and wife. The husband had vowed to do good things for the community, helping the less fortunate and assisting those who could not help themselves. As an architect, he wanted to use his position to build places that could becoming homes for those who didn’t have one. And for a while, he accomplished his goal. But just like in every story, the hero has a weakness that can prove to be his downfall - and for this so-called hero, the weakness was greed. As the money began to flow in, it was hard to ignore the potential to increase the wealth, and slowly, gradually - the goal at hand was no longer about helping others. It was about helping himself, and taking advantage of others to reach his goal. Gone was the hopes of working to create a better community, but rather he focused on taking homes that people couldn’t afford to pay for, and getting them evicted in order to build the lot up and charge obscene amounts of money for it. It was said that the practice that the man fell into increased homelessness in the city, and made the divide between the rich and the poor even worse. Did he care? Not in the slightest. His house was luxurious, filled with the most beautiful riches - and if those people could not fend for themselves, then why should it have been his job?

At this time, the wife had just given birth to the couple’s first child - a baby boy with a head full of dark curls and a smile that could rival the sun. Adam, they named him - a strong name to drive him towards a strong future. Even though he had just been given the greatest gift of all - the father did not stop when it came to his work. His career always came first, as he would tell his wife, because who else would be able to provide for the family? And so, Adam spent most of his childhood with his mother, reveling in her beautiful voice as she’d sing to him, or following after her as she’d walk through her rose gardens. They were her most prized possession, a passion that was handed down from her father to her, similar in the way his father had handed it down to him. The garden laid just a few feet from the entrance of the estate, a thick bramble of the reddest roses he’d ever seen. She’d carry him through the garden as a child, showing him the blooms as she warned him about the thorns. His mother cared for him, showering him in love and affection, and always speaking to him of the importance to love others, and to love himself. Perhaps that was why the young boy had been happy for most of his youth - a dark and twisted irony to what laid ahead in his future.

When Adam reached adolescence, his father decided that he needed to have an education that was worthy of their name - and so he went to the same prestigious boarding school that his father had attended. It was far away from home, and he didn’t want to leave the comfort and familiarity of the family - but it was one of the first times that his father had truly seemed to pay attention to him, - and so he sucked it up and did as he was told. He missed his mother terribly, missed being mischievous and annoying the servants in the kitchen, missed the fragrance of roses that would rush through the house anytime a window was opened in the slightest. He had a difficult time making friends in school, and often was on the receiving end of teasing from other classmates - so he focused on his studies and would count the days until he was going to be able to return home. Right before he turned thirteen, however, he was asked to return home unexpectedly. Home was somewhere that was always filled with positive memories - but not on this account, as he’d quickly learn that his mother was gravely ill. She’d been under the weather for a long time, blaming it on the seasons - but she never seemed to get better, just getting weaker and weaker. When he returned to the family estate, he never would think that it’d just be another day and his mother would be gone.

Buried right beside the rose garden on the estate, it seemed that without her positivity and light Adam’s life began to take a turn into darkness. His father was now the only person he could rely on, and from his youth, Adam had always seen him as a cold person - the exact opposite of who his mother was. But the more time his father would spend with him, the more Adam began to see the benefits of not being someone who was ruled by their heart. His father had reached his status through working hard and being unswayed by people looking for his help, looking for pity, looking for assistance. Adam worked closely with his father over the next few years, his father showing him the way that his architecture firm ran, and how it would one day be Adam’s responsibility to oversee it. It seemed that within an instant, his mother’s presence in the home and in his life was gone - her rose garden wilted without anyone to attend it, her belongings were packed up and put into storage - and in exchange of them, his father had become the dominant person in his life.

Once Adam had graduated from school and taken a role within the firm as his father’s partner, his outlook on the world had become completely jaded. Humanity gave him nothing - only taking from him and knocking him when he was down. There was no point in working to give back to the world when it refused to give back to him. And so, he became a shadow of his father - cold and cruel and uncaring about others that didn’t benefit him. When his father announced the biggest undertaking the firm had seen - an overhaul of a well-known yet rundown neighborhood - Adam was there at his side, head held high as they cut the metaphorical ribbon. The street was filled with abandoned buildings, and had quickly become a frequent place for the homeless and poor to stay within - and the firm planned to completely demolish everything, and create a luxury avenue of sky-high apartment buildings and shopping plazas. There was little backlash, as it was positioned as giving back to the community - but was truly so that Adam’s father could charge insane rental costs and pad his own wallet. The poor couldn’t do that for him, so there was no point in keeping those buildings.

However, on the first day of demolition, everything fell apart. The firm hadn’t adequately surveyed the properties, making sure that all of the squatters had been relocated. They simply went ahead with the wrecking of the buildings - only to find out a day later that there had been a few people inside of it at the time, and they’d all been killed when the building came down. The architecture firm was disgraced, published on every headline of every paper within the entire city, crucifying them and everything that they’d done. The spotlight was appropriately placed onto the leaders of the endeavor - Adam, and his father - and how they’d heartlessly done this. Adam, on one hand, was shaken - that was never the intention, and to think that he’d had a hand in it was upsetting. His father, though, took the easy way out of the damning spotlight - a rope tightly around the neck, not even leaving a note behind.

And so, the disgrace was Adam’s, and Adam’s alone to bear. He dissolved the entire firm as soon as he could, hoping that by doing so, it’d provide some relief to the incessant attention. Whatever assets were left to the company were given to the city and the families of those who were affected, hoping to avoid a lawsuit. The money was gone, the popularity was gone - everything was gone. But rather than trying to take a step in a new direction, Adam became bitter and angry. The world had taken everything from him - chewed him up and spit him out without any sort of regard. He closed himself off from the rest of the public, preferring solidarity over the possibility of being recognized and having to answer to what he’d done. He took a lowly job that would allow him to not have to deal with anyone, and quickly and effectively removed himself from the world as he knew it.

A hand mirror. Ornate with jewels and rose etchings along the handle and and trim, it was a belonging of his mother’s before she passed. She would use it every day as she got ready for the day - and even as a little boy, she’d bring him onto her lap and he’d be fascinated by how it was possible to see himself in this tiny piece of glass. As he grew older, he may not have had the same playfulness or carefree nature that he previously did, but the hand mirror remained a constant - whether it was within his mother’s life, or his own. She’d use it frequently, using it to apply her makeup or adjust her hair when she was well. When she was unwell, she’d use it to look at the darkening bags under her eyes, the gauntness of her cheeks, the paleness of her skin. When she passed away, Adam was still barely a teen, and though his father packed up most of his mother’s belongings for safekeeping, as he would say - Adam kept the mirror, stealing it from a crate and hiding it in one of his bureau drawers. It was a foolish thing to keep, as he had little use for it - but when he holds it and when he looks into it, it’s almost as if he can still feel her presence. 

[pistolkilled]

[ Have an updated gem AU bc I’m still in the mood to write out these monster HC posts. ]

Wilford is a corrupted rhodochrosite, as pictured (left) here in his Earth/post-corruption form, previously under Pink Diamond’s court.

While having no particular significance to her entourage, he did spend a lot of time up close and personal with PD. They do share a special relationship, and she means the world to him. 

Rhodo has been gifted three pearls by PD to act as his sort of camera/tech crew. His main pearl is Rosaline, with his two additional ones, Coral and Pink, who you can read more about over here.

Rosaline is his next in line confidant, they know just about everything about Rhodo and everything he could possibly tell them. Though there’s still no one he trusts more than Jasper.

The flowers in his hair aren’t just aesthetic, they’re permanent and they’re living, complete with brambles and dead leaves that need to be trimmed and taken care of regularly, otherwise they will continue to grow wild.

The spikes that adorn the rest of him are sharp, more akin to rose thorns.

Before his corruption, he was a public personality, somewhere akin to a news anchor. Well known among his court.

Very loyal to his Diamond - he never would’ve thought about rebelling to any extent, even once corrupted.

It isn’t until PD’s shattered that Rhodo’s corruption even began. All the events happened over the course of one to two thousand years.

Rhodo is absolutely devastated by the news of PD's shattering, being as close to her as he was.

Being the reporter he is, combined with his overwhelming grief, he does as much reading into the shattering as he possibly can to try and make some sense of it, possibly get some justice for his Diamond and some semblance of peace of mind.

Eventually he comes to similar (false) conclusions that Zircon had in Steven's trial. Being Rhodo's sole confidant (even more so than his pearls), he confides all this in Jasper, who does his part and begs him not to go through with the report. Still grief-stricken and borderline driven mad by the information he's acquired and her initial shattering, obviously he doesn't listen.

The story airs briefly, and the Diamonds catch wind of it pretty quickly. Being that he's such a well known personality, they can't just get rid of him without raising suspicions and having other gems bat an eye, the solution is a forced corruption. 

Under all the grief, stress, his corruption spreads quickly, and the loyal following he's accumulated declines, which only serves to exacerbate both problems. Viewers see a corrupt gem spouting nonsense and decide it's not worth their time, and this only furthers Rhodo's corruption to some extent.

It isn't until he's written off by the vast majority of his following that the Diamonds decide it's time to deal with him - or rather, it's time for Jasper to deal with him. (Story will be continued under Will's section.)

Rhodo's personality is significantly changed from before he was corrupted until after. His before personality is similar to the Warfstache personality you see in canon and on this blog. His after personality is much more... reserved and a little more cautious. It's been hard to recover from the years and years of torment he'd been through before making it to Earth. He's a bit of an anxious mess, trying hard to keep it together to stop his corruption from worsening.

It’s not uncommon after one of his big freak-outs for you to notice another splotch or two along his skin, or a couple extra spikes where there didn’t used to be spikes.

Very emotionally expressive even still, probably to an excessive extent. He feels very deeply, and he makes it very obvious (at least when concerning emotions outside of his anxieties). 

After-Rhodo doesn't trust easily, though he's not hostile about his distrust. He still craves/loves attention, you just need to be slow and careful with him, although less so after he comes to trust you.

There was also a minor healing ability to be spoken of before his corruption, though it's completely gone afterwards, as are plenty of his other abilities. He can't quite shapeshift like a normal gem can, and summoning his weapon isn't easy (though it hadn't been easy to begin with, given that he wasn't a combat-made gem). 

Though if he could, his weapon would and still is a spiked bat. 

Has always been a less combat prone gem, though it wasn’t uncommon for him to bring his bat out during his various field work expeditions for various reasons. Not violent if he can help it, but if the opportunity does arise (usually in defense of his friends), he won't hesitate to take up arms to the best of his abilities.

William takes on the role of a bumblebee jasper in this verse, as pictured (right) here in his Earth outfita, under Yellow Diamond’s court specifically, though it wasn’t uncommon for him to move between the courts for various reasons.

More of a rare type of jasper, sort of an upper level commander akin to someone like Holly Blue Agate.

This section of jaspers are something like a secret police type, dealing with defective/corrupted/abnormal gems so the diamonds don't have to get their hands dirty.

It's not common knowledge that bumblebee jaspers do what they do; it's just generally known that they're higher ups and not a gem to be messed with.

His personality before making it to Earth is that which a commanding officer should have. He’s fairly reserved, stoic, and professional outwardly, though he eventually takes to relaxing around certain gems, namely Rhodochrosite, his Champagne Pearl, and nacremade’s Mother of Pearl.

Similar to how he’s Rhodo’s sole confidant, Rhodo is someone he trusts highly to vent to, despite him being a public reporter. It’s also probably a lot of Jasper’s stories that fueled Rhodochrosite to go on with the report that earned him corruption. He already knew too much.

Nacre, the Mother of Pearl, is partly where he is when he’s not out on one of his missions. He and the other jaspers are also assigned to keeping watch over this important gem. Of course, our Jasper naturally took things much further than just guarding. 

When possible, he does slip into her enclosure to talk to her and be with her, finding it unusually cruel to just lock her away with nobody but herself and the unformed pearls she spawns. He regards her highly, similar to how Rhodochrosite regards his diamond.

Champagne Pearl is the pearl chosen (most likely by him) to be his assistant in his career. She’s also the direct result of all these up close and personal meetings between Nacre and Jasper.

(It’s worth mentioning that this is also a universe where gemlings are possible.)

His weapon (still subject to change), is probably something along the line of respawning grenades. A long distance, quickly respawning weapon is helpful in the long run.

More prone to using his hand to hand combat skills than he is his weapon, however. It tends to be more practical in his line of work.

His natural ability is psychometry, meaning he can read the history of an inanimate object simply by making contact with it. Useful in the even that he's dealing with a gem on the run, provided they weren't already privy to this information and very careful with their escape.

Given Jasper’s line of work, after Rhodochrosite’s corruption was to the point where it would make for an easy disposal, he was the one assigned to get rid of him, like all the other broken gems.

At this point, he’s already too involved with Rhodo to do this easily and is deeply conflicted. He struggles with carrying out his given duty and dealing with the connection he’s formed with Rhodo. 

In the end, it’s the connection that wins out, and he and Champagne think up a plan as quickly as they can manage without the amount of time being suspicious. There had already been at least one documented case of gems (toriskii’s pyrope twins) escaping Homeworld, and they decide to follow suit, given how much easier it would be for someone like Jasper to commandeer a ship. 

Rhodochrosite was more than likely under the impression that Jasper was wanting to take him on one of his missions in the beginning, just to show him this exciting new planet that he knew he’d just love.

(Having seen a few other planets while traveling along with PD, Rhodo already has an innate fascination with off-world territories and was immediately excited for it. Though this effect wears off the more and more he thinks about it, and the closer they get to actually leaving.)

Under the guise of a prisoner transfer-esque situation, Jasper gets hold of a ship and escapes Homeworld with his pearl, Rhodochrosite’s main pearl, and Rhodochrosite himself.

Having had sneaking suspicions for a fair amount of time now, Rhodo finally confronts Jasper about where they were actually going after a long bout of tense silence, and Jasper breaks down and tells him everything. They’re headed to Earth and can never go back to Homeworld.

(Jasper was already not too broken up about the idea of leaving, between having to deal with all these broken gems and seeing how they were treating Nacre, he’d thought about leaving plenty. His problem was that he was fearful of being caught in the process of escaping, and what would happen to all of them in the event of that.)

 (The more Rhodo thought about it, in light of all this new information, he decided he wasn’t too broken up about it, either. Part of him was even excited to see what was so great about this planet that PD effectively gave herself up for it.)

Similar to Rhodo’s change in personality, once reaching Earth, Jasper starts to act more like you see the Colonel acting in canon. He seems to enjoy life much more now that he gets to decide what he does with it all on his own.

Jasper is incredibly protective over Rhodo once they reach Earth. He’s made it his main mission to keep him calm, happy, and safe.

The two of them utilize the thought-space between one another (like Garnet and Stev/onnie’s encounter) quite frequently in light of this.

It’s likely that part of Jasper blames himself for Rhodo’s corruption, having fed him knowledge he definitely wasn’t supposed to have over their years of being together, which only fuels his desire to keep Rhodo functional and sane.

They live a more nomadic life on Earth, never being able to stay in one place for too long. Between shared paranoia and a general fascination with the world around them, they don’t have the strength to root themselves into one place for too long.

Jasper is more wary of humans, though Rhodo finds himself with an odd fascination for them, too. Over time he slowly begins to see why it was that PD loved this place so much.

It’s because of their shared paranoia though that they don’t make a habit of staying in contact with him. They may interact with them from time to time, but they don’t make a habit of it.

There are very few people they trust on Earth, but eventually they do run into toriskii’s pyrope, and group up with her and her twin. There’s nobody that they trust more in the world than Tori!Pyrope, and it’s a bond that’s formed very quickly.

[ I’m sure I’ll have more to add here at some point, but for now, I really needed to revamp the verse and get more stuff down on paper. It’s been a long time since I bothered with the canon for this verse.]

[ EDIT: this is also a scenario I didn’t think was important to add, but I like it so I’m gonna add it anyway. ]

[voulezvous-rpg]

DANCER: THE LIONESS

georgina “la nubia” belanger 28 years old dancer & courtesan played by ash. 24. she/her. est.

They look at you up on stage, and everyone in the room knows you could rip them to shreds and nurse them to health all at once — and that they’d love every second of it. If the price is right they might be lucky enough to have you for the night, but you leave no room for doubt; you’re not their baby. You’re no one’s baby. If anything, those you share that stage with are all your babies — your pack, yours to look out for, even if it’s a responsibility you put entirely upon yourself. Good thing you’ve never been one to flinch over conflict — quite the opposite. They call you aggressive, tempered, hot to touch. They’re not wrong. They just get so lost in your passion that they don’t see that it’s for good reason — for your pride. For those you love. For yourself. And there’s not a single thing wrong with that.

I. LIVES: 1 OF 9

In life, you were either predator or you were prey – and It was best practice to choose which one you wanted to be before fate decided for you.

Her mother didn’t make her choice fast enough…

“Your father was a no good bastard.”

(The words waft in between tendrils of curling smoke from her mother’s cigarette, French immaculate. But the message still stands.)

It was the age old story. Man meets woman. Woman falls in love. Man has no intention to. Woman gives him everything, the world, if she could. Woman devotes her entire life to man, lets man suck her dry. Man leaves her the moment something shinier, something newer, comes along.

It takes a toll on a woman to know that the man she was in love with decided to up and leave with a promise to return that he never intended on keeping. It takes a toll on a woman when they realize the reason he left was to give another woman the life she was promised.

So Georgina and her sister never saw their father, never knew him, never so much as glanced at a photo. Oh no, those were long gone, tossed over a bridge and into the river along with what little things he left behind. But what they did have, was their mother’s resentment, her impassioned words, to never let a man have the upper hand, to never fall for them, but let them fall for you, because it’s ‘easier that way.’ The youngest is too naive to understand, but Georgina hears the instructions loud and clear, all but ready to apply such wisdom to all facets of her life.

Her mother dies. (Overdose, the coroner says. Heartbreak, she knows.) She dies because she is weak – stomach pumped of pills she used to drown sorrows that lasted years too long. Georgina hates her, but she detests him more. Because it’s all his fault that she and her sister are thrust into the foster system, ripped apart by the cruel hands of the government, by families that wanted a young wide-eyed thing and not the troubled teen that came attached to her.

Georgina never knew of the man who killed her mother, but upon her death, she knew what choice she had to make: she wouldn’t bare her neck and become prey as she had, no – she would become predator.

II. LIVES: 2 OF 9

She positively blossoms as winters turn over into spring. Her body filling, curving, tapering – and she’s not even eighteen yet. Far too supple in places the polite man wouldn’t stare – but even they do.

(Her foster father does too. And when he crept that night into her bedroom, she clawed his eye out with the nail of her thumb.)

“You must’ve been one in another life.” A cat, her mother had always referred to.

Because how could she have been anything but feline, when she balances on the dangers of life, only to land on her feet. When she pokes her head around every corner before slinking around it. She never comes when she’s called but only when she chooses, with a saunter in her hips and a flick of her curly mane over her shoulder. Hissing and clawing is what she knows, sometimes it felt like the only thing she was good at.

(So he should have expected what he got, is the moral of the story here.)

The streets have no choice but to welcome her, as she runs, flees from this life without a clue how to forge a new one. But that was the beauty of Paris – one could make a home just about anywhere so long as they could see the lights.

But the lights she catches glimpses of are not white and glittering like the Eifel. They are blues and reds and purples, the only lights fitting to cast shadows along the city’s underground. It is in the shadow of this light that she meets him. He’s tall and dark, full of sharpened edges and an even sharper grin. A walking warning sign, and yet she walked right into it – perhaps because she simply liked the danger.

“Easy, baby,” he gripped her wrist tight, shard of broken glass dropped from her bleeding palm, stopping her from going for the throat of a man who dared to call her a ‘whore’ to her face.

(It should be said, she dabbled in dancing now. They hail her in grimy alleys as the most exotic thing the eye ever did see. They weren’t wrong. It’s her first brush with burlesque, and she takes to it as one treads through water.)

Baby, she’d never loved a title more. Never hated a title more. But she was his, and he ensured to never let her forget it.

Domestication was a fool’s concept, as she was a creature who inherently belonged everywhere and nowhere at once. But he surely tried to fasten an invisible collar around her pretty neck, tethering her to this place, tethering her to him. For a moment, she allows herself to appear as prey.

(That was the thing about cats, they could contort into any shape, so long as it suited their needs.)

III. LIVES: 3 OF 9

Men were very attentive to a pretty young thing, that much she’s learned by this life.

(It’s surprising how much they are willing to part with, how much they are willing to give, to do for her, in exchange for her favor – and she uses that knowledge to her advantage. Making trades like it were as simple as import and export: their jewels for the shining gem between her thighs.)

Their guards on sleek watches and fat wallets down as she takes and takes and takes. Tricking and teasing with the fluttering of lashes and the toss of glossy curls until they all but drop them into her awaiting palm. She deserves this, does she not? Life and the men within it had taken everything from her mother, and she’d be damned if she didn’t take it all back tenfold. She toys with emotions like a ball of yarn. Desire, her favorite plaything. But don’t let that get boring, she’ll find her next amusement as her attention sees fit.

But what she gets, what she earns, she is never allowed to keep. Always having to give him hat she collected at the end of each night. And she is not the only one – young naive things surrounding her in the dressing room as he purrs in their ears and takes from them too. (When he dies, the club considers it a shame, an immense loss of their proprietor. She considers it a favor done. ‘You’re welcome’, she whispers into the night.)

There is something to be said about a woman who wears hatred like a slick second skin. Whose anger runs hot in her veins and ignites infernos in her eyes. There is something to be said about the woman who wasn’t born this way but made, this world giving her vexation to wield, and then wanted to condemn her for forging it into a dagger. (No – they all deserved what they got.)

Once more, this is a life she must flee, slipping from the bars of her cage to the only haven she knew.

IV. LIVES: 4 OF 9

She and the Moulin Rouge have met in another life, and she recalls it’s glitz and glamour from behind piano benches and beneath floorboards as her mother told her to make herself invisible until the number’s completion.

(‘Mama, can I be a dancer too? Like you?’ She had asked, only to be met with a stern, ‘No.’ Her mother must be rolling in her grave now.)

But when she tore through those red oak roods, she had not arrived as Georgina, but as Minette.

(A poor fool had mistaken her for a dancer, a courtesan, that descended from the stage and into his lap like a dream. Dubbing her with the first name he could recall from the posters. She hadn’t corrected him.)

She’s taken to the Red Room for the first time that night, and makes off with more francs than she ever saw at once – for the first time, she hadn’t needed to lift sticky fingers to take it, hadn’t needed to charm hands into pockets to empty them for her. They were willingly given, a hefty token in repayment for the scratches at her thigh and the finger-shaped bruises in her hips.

“Wait–”

A single leg is out the bedroom’s window, and instead of fleeing as always, Georgina can’t help but gloat.

“You’re Minette, then, non?” The Diamond nods, rest her soul. “Well, I suppose I should thank you, mon cher, your name was most useful,” and she waves the wad of notes at the other girl. “Is this the part where you tell me you want it back?”

“No–”

Georgina hardly expected her con-on-the-fly to become a career, but it does. She weaves her way throughout the club, prowling and purring her way through the nights. You could say, everything she’s been through has built her up to this. A cherry lollipop rolls over her tongue, held poised between two fingers. She bites – only because it’s her nature to. Sweet and tart collecting in her mouth and she grins, canines sharp, because she’s found herself a fascination once more.

She becomes something dark and revered. They said behind closed doors, they worship her like a deity, every bit as feline and war-ready as Sekhmet. They leave offerings at her silk-laid altar – jewels and fur and trinkets and letters proclaiming a love she could never reciprocate – and to the highest bidder, the carefully chosen candidates who will damn themselves for her, she traps them within her claws. Tearing through flesh to the ichor flowing beneath.

Because it’s what she deserves.

Your protective instincts kick into overdrive over The Good Time Girl; you want to save them from themselves.

When your temper gets out of control, The Bodyguard often steps in to intervene, despite your insistence that you can handle yourself.

You like to push The Widower’s buttons; you don’t know their story, just that their sulking scares the fish away.

FC: Jessica Lucas

[jemej3m]

Only

Sorry.

There’s only so much you can do, Neil thought, sitting on the couch. 

Matt out was getting dinner, staying only overnight.

He still hated it, being alone. He’d spent too much time alone, and had never opted for it, if given a choice. 

Long distance meant he didn’t have one.

It wasn’t like his fifth year at Palmetto: He had purpose, and he had a role to fill. A team to bring to success. A coach with a careful eye, an almost-friend to become close to. 

There was nothing like that here, in New York. 

He was living in the most horrible of apartments, because he was paranoid. He’d made the cut, but pleasing the Moriyamas depended on how well his team would succeed that season. 

That wasn’t purpose. It was survival, all over again. Eating because it was necessary, sleeping because it was necessary. 

And fuck -- even Exy. He felt the same rush when he leapt and slung a ball just out of reach of the goal keeper’s net, but the ever-present weight still sat on his shoulders. Knowing that he couldn’t play this sport just because he loved it, but that he had to give what he earned over in exchange for his life.

He wouldn’t be able to quit exy, even if he was starting to hate it. 

Which he was. 

Practise reminded him of when he willingly agreed to signing his life down, because he’d thought there hadn’t been any other alternatives. There had been alternatives. Neil of all people should have remembered that: There was no one way to get out of a sticky situation. It was never simply life or death. 

He should have offered something else. There was a buzz in his brain that he couldn’t ignore, and it made it difficult to think, but there had to be some other way he could have done it. 

A way that wouldn’t have torn him and Andrew apart, putting hundreds of miles between them. 

Maybe -- maybe if they were together, actually together -- this wouldn’t have happened. 

Exy was -- had been -- everything. To Neil. But he knew that he would put Andrew above his career, which whittled down to the simplest of facts Neil already knew: He would die. For Andrew. To keep Andrew alive. To keep Andrew happy. 

Blindly, Neil thought that Andrew thought more or less the same. He’d had enough of repeating his old mantra of I’m nothing. He wasn’t nothing. But he wasn’t anything to Andrew. 

Six days, no calls, no texts. Absolutely nothing, not since Neil had sent the i know about him. 

Foolishly, he’d called Nicky. 

“Oh. Neil.” Nicky was foolish and in perfect love with a man who was in perfect love with him. “I -- Maybe Andrew’s just an open-relationship person. It might not mean he doesn’t--” Nicky cut off unsubtly, because no one ever mentioned it around either of them. They didn’t know what it meant. “--you. Not any less. Some people just are -- bigger than one person.”

But I’m not. Neil wasn’t. He was the narrowest of pin holes: He was pretty sure that there would only be one man he could feel this way for. For the same man to be able to see beyond Neil was -- a pretty absurd idea. 

Nicky had apologised, Neil had nodded despite it being a phone call, knowing Nicky couldn’t see him, and hung up before he could hear another one of Nicky’s sighs. 

He’d turned to Matt, instead, who lived in Augustus but was up in New York. He’d said he was visiting his mother for the week -- Neil knew a lie when he heard one -- and promised to come over. 

Half of the scotch bottle on the table in front of Neil was empty. The buzzing in his head wouldn’t go away. 

“I’m back, buddy.” Matt eyed the bottle. “Too drunk to eat?”

“I’m not drunk.” Neil’s voice sounded quiet and small. 

“I’m sorry, Neil.” When Matt was already halfway through his container of take-out.

“I don’t understand why people are apologising.” Neil was just stabbing his food. He wasn’t hungry. 

“It’s a way of trying to connect with you, on an emotional level.” Matt had never laughed at Neil fumbling around with how to talk to people as a person. He’d always just been blunt and factual but forgiving and understanding when Neil fucked up or didn’t know what to say. 

Neil really appreciated that. 

“He cheated on you, Neil. That’s what it is: I can see you trying to work it out under those curls.”

Neil stabbed at his food again. “Makes me sound like some distressed wife on a reality TV show.”

“He didn’t tell you. You never agreed to it. That makes it cheating. Nicky’s ‘he could just be an open-relationship’ is bullshit and you know it. You know him better than all of us.”

“I want to ignore it.” Neil hated how raw it sounded. “But I’m mad, too. I don’t understand it.”

“You’d think he’d be more careful.” Mat murmured. 

“What, like it was an accident?”

“No. But you’re you. And he knows you. You’d think he’d be more --” Matt couldn’t find the word he was looking for and eventually clamped his mouth shut. 

“I’m not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean. But it’s -- if he needed to find someone else, then what don’t I --” 

“Have that he’s looking for? Yeah.” Matt dropped his container onto the table. “Yeah, no. Neil. There’s absolutely nothing you should have to do to make him stay. You’re not unsatisfactory or not enough. If Andrew wasn’t happy with you, then fuck him.”

That hurt. “But what if I was happy with him?” 

Matt shut his eyes. “That’ll be the hard part, Neil.” 

Neil looked back at his food. “You think I should end it.”

“The two of you were all or nothing, Neil. We all thought it would pan out. Maybe we were wrong: We were wrong about it starting in the first place. It’s your decision and no one elses, but.” He offered a sad smile. “If I ever did that to Dan, she would curse me to the ninth circle of hell with no regrets, and I’d deserve it, but I also know it’ll never happen. I have no reason to ever find anyone else, and I know I never will.”

“But Andrew’s an asshole.” Neil grimaced. 

Matt’s sad smile was accompanied with an apologetic shrug. “Always was.”

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault. But Neil just had to look at the rest of his family to know that Andrew did make a lot of decisions, purposefully choosing the worst, whether it was to hurt someone or completely disregarding consequences. That wasn’t okay.

Are you going to be the last person to leave him, when he needs someone he can trust, more than anyone else? 

No, Neil wasn’t.

It wasn’t fair, but it was true.

“Thank you, Matt.” Neil leaned his head forward when Matt offered his hand, and let him cup the side of his head. “But I’m going to see how this pans out. Before deciding. He still hasn’t -- contacted me. I know it’s...not me. Or my fault.”

“You know what you’re doing.” Matt seemed pleased by Neil’s reasonable answer and grabbed his fork to steal a mouthful of Neil’s takeout, despite his own being on the table. He talked around a mouth full of food and Neil almost smiled. “We going to continue Elementary from where we left off? Titanic? K-K-U-K?”

Neil smiled a little more. “Elementary sounds good.”

Andrew’s team was playing tonight. Matt was a good enough friend to know that.

You’re not alone. You’re not alone. You’re not alone. 

He still felt it, though, it’s ever-present weight on his chest, the numb nothingness of his mind. 

Neil looked up at Betsy and grimaced. “Pills?” 

She smiled hesitantly. “They can help ground you. There’s a lot of terrible stigma around medicating for mental illnesses, but it’s to help you.”

“Some of it’s not stigma.” Wide grin, feral gleam to his eyes. 

A month and a half later, still nothing. The last two games had been startling: The loss hadn’t wasn’t followed by it’s usual ferocious disappointment, his determination to be better. The win two weeks later didn’t make his heart race, his chest tight with pride and relief. 

Just. Nothing. 

Then he saw that feeling numb was a symptom of depression. Real depression. A diagnosable illness. 

And he’d called Betsy.

“I know you may think that. And I know why. God, of all people, Neil, I would know, wouldn’t I? He was my patient.”

She’d been very careful around Andrew’s mention. Both of them knew that Neil would never have called Betsy on his own, not without a push from Andrew, or in this case, because of him. 

“Antidepressants help level you.” Betsy explained, leveling her hand. “They bring you up from the ditch onto the level playing ground, giving you the little push so that you’re at the same starting line as everyone else when it comes to happiness. Or achieving it. Does that help you to understand?”

“Andrew’s pills were antidepressants, weren’t they?”

“Euphoria inducing drugs.” Betsy said, quietly. “Not the same. The illusion of happiness is -- a cruel thing to give someone. He wasn’t happy for a long time.”

“You imply he eventually was happy.”

“Dare I say, when he found you?” 

Neil said nothing. Felt nothing. 

“Neil,” She said softly, eyes softened with concern. “What happened?” 

"Andrew’s okay, if that’s what you’re asking.” Neil hadn’t a clue if Andrew was okay: He was beginning to hope that he wasn’t, that he was struggling from refraining to call him a dozen times like Neil wanted to, that he missed Neil’s good morning texts as much as Neil missed his good night texts. 

“I asked what happened.”

“No, Betsy.”

“Okay.” She murmured. “I’ll get in contact with an affiliate. I know we’ve had three Skype sessions already, but maybe you’d prefer to sit with someone? Get to know someone, instead of being forced to trust me, through a screen. Maybe consider antidepressants, Neil. I’m very happy that you trusted me enough to talk with you.”

“So it is depression?” Neil finally, finally looked at her. 

Silvering hair and silver eyes. He’d distrusted her on principal, but he’d had to work very closely with her in stitching up the team whilst captain. A woman worth respecting, and despite being each other’s nightmares -- a well practised liar and a well practised analyser -- they’d figured it out. 

“Yeah, Neil. I really think so.”

“How do you...” Neil clenched his fists. 

“How do I know? It’s easier when my patient suspects. If they relate to other stories, can label symptoms. You’re a walking textbook definition of depression, Neil, and I’m sorry. It’s not always avoidable, it’s deadly common. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there earlier to support you. Maybe I would have seen you -- falling into the ditch, so they say.”

How could you have been there for me: We’re worlds away. “Thanks, Betsy. Send me the address of the psychiatrist.”

“Will do, Neil.” She smiled gently. “Have a good evening.”

“You too.” He said. She hung up for him. 

He didn’t move for another hour but to rest his chin on his hand and stare at the wall behind his laptop. 

He’d only installed Skype to call Andrew.

He quit the application and removed it from his dock. 

Don’t need this anymore. 

“Betsy, come on.” 

Betsy paused. Their past few calls had been most certainly more tense: Betsy could pick up agitation over text alone. Andrew was practically her son. She could read his mood from what time he called: It was currently three in the morning. He had stayed up for hours agonising over himself and his thoughts and then called Betsy out of pure frustration. 

He never called her Betsy. It was Bee. Once: Mom. 

“Andrew.” She said, in an equally frustrated tone. “What?”

“Neil, you talked to Neil. He called you. What did he say?”

Betsy had been on the phone to Andrew when Neil had first texted, asking to talk to her on the phone. She knew that they were momentarily estranged from each other: She’d initially thought it was the stress of long distance, and the agony of waiting months to see each other. Now she was sure it was something more trying than that. Andrew must have worked it out, but hadn’t said anything till now. 

“I can’t say, Andrew.” She said, softly.

“Patient confidentiality.” He said sourly. “Sucks, doesn’t it? But that means he’s your patient. Which means he’s not okay. Why? What happened?”

Betsy frowned. “I thought that you’d perhaps pushed him into it.”

“Pushed him into it?” He snapped. “I--

“Andrew, breathe.”

He took a moment. 

“I haven’t spoken to Neil in six weeks. And two days.”

Oh. Betsy shut her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I was with someone else. And he found out.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Betsy snapped. “Andrew.” 

Silence. 

“You don’t usually supply such a strong person opinion on my mistakes.” 

“You don’t usually -- no. You haven’t done something so careless for many years, Andrew.”

“What, the cheating or him finding out?”

“You think this is a joke?” Betsy found her own voice hushed. “I watched the string of my mother’s infidelity break my father into a million pieces.”

“Did I finally unlock your pathetic sob story, Bee?”

“Congratulations, Andrew. Do you feel validated now?” 

He was finally quiet.

“I’m not your therapist anymore, Andrew.” Betsy was worried she’d gone too far. She knew that the two of them had a unique relationship simply because she’d stuck out for him when almost no one else had. She and Neil shared an understanding. “I’m not your mother, but I’m more than a mentor. I’m family: You said so yourself. So allow me to ask: Why would you step out of your way to do something when there was absolutely no reason to do it?” 

“How do you know there wasn’t a reason?” He said, voice rough. 

“Because he is everything to you.”

Andrew swallowed audibly. 

“And you know that he’s different, Andrew. His sexuality isn’t as black-and-white as yours. It’s singular and particular and it’s intense because the chances of him finding someone else to connect so deeply with, deep enough to spark  similar infatuation with, is slim. And you know that. So why?”

“I don’t know.” He said. And then again: “I don’t know. He’s -- there’s no reason. It just happened. Consciously, yeah. Consensual, of course. But did I need it? No. I barely wanted it. It was like giving into the tiniest of itches on a scab wound. Stupid and just makes things -- bleed. Again. I didn’t need it, and I didn’t need to do it, not like I need him. Neil.”

“Andrew.” Betsy whispered. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He concluded. “It’s been six weeks since I panicked and shut off my phone for three days. I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t get that. He doesn’t get being able to find someone else, because he can’t. I don’t know what to do.” He paused. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive you?” 

“Ng--” He cut himself off, coughing. His voice was scratchy and broken. “No.”

They were quiet for a long time. 

“Maybe some time down south me would be a good idea.” Betsy said, desperate to fill his heart broken silence. 

Heart broken teenage boy. 

He was 28. Not a teenager anymore. 

“Maybe.”

“Thanks for opening up to me, Andrew.” It felt a little cruel to say it this time, but she’d said it since the first time he’d said something a little more meaningful. 

“You’re welcome.” He’d replied every time, pausing at the doorway. There was slight hesitation before the line went dead. 

Neil was minding his own business, having collapsed on the couch at three in the morning, after the afters party, which was after the after-game-dinner, which was after the actual game. He was absolutely dead on his feet. 

Dead enough to not register the knock on his door. His angsty younger self would have lamented about how his mother would have beaten him black and blue for being so exhausted to miss someone knocking on the damn door. 

They knocked again, louder, and Neil’s eyes popped open. He sat up, still in his slacks and button down, collar popped. He dragged the blanket with him, clutching the corners together in one fist as he held a blunt knife in the other. He still managed to turn the door handle and pull it open. 

“No, no.” He shook his head, letting the door fall closed. 

“Neil!” Andrew’s palm slammed against it, shoving it wide open and falling inside with the force of it. Neil stumbled out of the way and the door slammed shut behind him with a distinct air of finality. 

Nothing, for the first minute. Hour. Eternity. 

But Neil was feeling more than he’d felt in two, long months, even on his second brand of antidepressants. His heart was racing. There was a rope pulled tight around his neck. He could barely breathe: He could barely contain himself. Heat shimmered over his skin at the sight of him, hair mussed by the wind, the tip of his nose reddened by the cold, swath in the coat Neil had bought him only a few months ago, in preparation for winter. His hair was longer. His shave was sloppier. His eyes had lost whatever spark they’d had before. 

Neil hated he was making these comparisons and feeling concern creep up his throat. 

“Get out.”

“Think I was dead?”

“Get out.” Neil’s voice wobbled. 

Something in Andrew cracked and his eyes dropped to gaze at the floor with a jerky nod of his head, turning towards the door. 

Neil didn’t touch him but called out “How?” before he could open the door. Andrew’s hand froze. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t whisper but his voice was soft.

“Who is he?” 

Andrew turned around, looking at pained as Neil had ever seen him. “He was nothing, was. He was nothing and nobody at all, Neil -- was.”

“And so am I.” Neil wrapped his arms around his stomach: He’d dropped the blanket and the blunt knife. 

“No, nev--”

“Get out.”

“Neil, I--”

“Leave!”

“Neil, please.” 

Two men, equally devoid of hope, staring at each other like they were strangers. 

Neil hated that word too. Please.

“Goodbye, Andrew.” 

eyyyyy

[reneeswing]

Some of my thoughts on the coronavirus epidemic

Part 1: Going home 

It was at the noon of Christmas day in 2019. When most western families reunited for the occasion, I sat in the sun-lit apartment in Amsterdam by myself, calling my family in Shanghai 7 hours ahead of Europe. The big family was gathering as a routine as well, althouth they were not celebrating anything particular. Feast on the table, glasses clinking, the simple happiness and warmth was transversed to me from thousands of miles away. Today in retrospect, I realize they were simply appreciating the essence in life: health, freedom and love. 

During the phone call, I told them I was going to leave my current job. It was not an easy decision, just like most ones in everybody’s life. After a year long struggle of not getting a promising career prospect, which weighed heavily on my mental fitness, I’ve finally decided to take back control and move on. When my uncles learnt that I would have a two-week gap before my new job starts, they both suggested me return to spend the Spring Festival with the family in Shanghai. The truth is although I visited them almost every year, it has been 7 years since last time I was with them during the biggest festival season in China, and that particular last time was rather for my Granpa’s passing…

With almost no hesitation, I wrapped up all my work and hopped on the first flight to Shanghai in the mid January 2020. As of that particular moment, I was complete oblivious of the virus outbreak.

Winter in Shanghai could be cruel; the rain went on drizzling for days, one will quiver for the winter chill. Upon my arrival, mood at home was light. My uncle and cousin-in-law came to pick me up from the airport. All along the way, we were cracking jokes about Uncle C’s rookie driving skills, since he obtained his driver’s license only a month ago at the age of 60. Back at home, after examining my luggage with her “quasi-military precision", mother couldn’t stop nagging me of being underdressed for the weather. But for me, from the bottom of my heart, I felt completely care-free and warm, because I was home. 

Part 2: the voluntary siege

Now less than one month later, we all know this festive mood didn’t last long. Merely three days after my arrival, the news of human cross-infection of the novel corona virus was confirmed by the Chinese Central Government. The epicenter was allegedly located in Wuhan, the capital city of Hubei Province with a population of more than 10 million. From then on, the episode began to unveil in an unimaginable speed...

January 23th, the rain kept on for a long while. It was one day before the New Year’s Eve, this was supposed to be the day when parents sweep-clean the entire house and grandma prepares for the family dinner with her secrete recipes. however, eventually it became the day when the city of Wuhan was locked down due to the severe outbreak of the novel coronavirus. 10 o’clock in the morning, all the transporation en-route to this mega-size city in the center of China was temporarily closed. As I learnt this news from the media, we have already be strongly urged, by both the central and local government, to always take protective hygienic measures, avoid populous areas and refrain ourselves from unnecessary gatherings. Official precaustions on domestic and international travels were issued and aired frequently to the general public in the meantime. 

Overnight, face masks and household medical alcohol were nearly sold out in every corner of the city and online; people in the communities were deeply shrouded by the dire situation in Wuhan and Hubei Province. In my immediate circle, everyone felt for the fear that people were suffering from over there; we prayed for the sick, for the health and for everyone who was innocently stranded in this deadlock. We knew that we had to go through this together.

You may have heard from the media that people’s lives in the lockdown have all of a sudden taken on a feeling of imprisonment and boredom. What you may have not heard is what the rest of us in China were dealing with at the same time. In Shanghai, most families have acted on the advices of the epidemiologists to do voluntary quanrantine at home, sparing themselves from any unnecessary trips. The only people who were still busy on the road were the delivery crews, the civil servants and the staff of epidemic prevention. In Shanghai, China’s grand cosmopolis, I couldn’t recall when was the last time that its streets have been so vacated. As for my family, we canceled all our family dinners. Suddenly, I found myself confined to the 20m2 space in the house where I was born and grew up. The world has become two dimensional again, or even for many, life has hit its PAUSE button, we no longer had the next job or the next party to rush into; daily routine has become the binary interaction with our beloved parents, kids and pets.

Part 3: the silver lining

Did I feel confined? yes, to a great extent. This was one of those moments that every human being will realize how important our freedom is. Did I feel forced? No, I can speak for most of the people that I know of, we were not imprisoned, we did the quarantine voluntarily because we understood how critical it is for us to do so, in order to stop the bleeding, to not exert more burdens to the already sparse social resources. At this moment, the country, as well as her people have made a tough choice, just like most choices in life, inconvenient yet necessary.

Am I bored? Maybe for a short while. Soon after, I realize if this outbreak had any silver linings, it brought us closer to who we really are. When we no longer have a busy life to escape to, we got enough time to rest, to read a book, to contemplate for nothing; we had to be creative to pamper our elderlies and our kids, keeping them engaged all the time. In a way, these were truly luxurious moments for us to live for. For me, the only human contact that I was left with was my parents. I needed to learn to get along with them 24 hours non-stop again, a thing that I was estranged to do since I left home for college at the age of 18. Two days in the quarantine, after we exhausted all the topics that could cause squabbles between my mother and I, she took out a rusty chessboard. We used to play the chess often; and that was the sole entertainment we had before I got my first computer. After we ceased to play it for so many years, this artifact sent me down the memory lane. As we picked it up again, I didn’t play loose to let her win; the game got us laugh at each other and at the sheer contentment that was once much more easily earned. 

Life has returned to its simple state that we could remember. In a good way, it turned to be a nostalgia for all of us.

Part 4: the solidarity

What you also may have not heard from the media is many people, despite being quarantined, were collectively searching for medical supplies all over the world via the internet. Different kinds of private partnerships and initiatives were formed in the virtual space. Chinese who live overseas as well as many foreign friends looked everywhere to contact local manufacturers for the supply of protecive apparels for medical use and tried their best to bring the shipments back home, given priority to the hospitals and medical facilities in Wuhan and Hubei. Hundreds of thousands of doctors and medicare stuff from all over the country dropped everthing in hand and responded to the call for medical aids to the city of Wuhan. At the New Year’s eve, a team of 100+ medical professionals boarded on the only flight from Shanghai to Wuhan without knowing their date of return. From the images in the news, I could no longer make out how the individuals look like, because all their bodies were covered by protective apparels. Only the voices of their vows kept resonating within us, as unforgettable as imprinted on our minds. We prayed for their safe return to their own families in the near future.

On New Year’s day, my family collectively decided that I should go back to Amsterdam ahead of schedule, as they were concerned that my reporting to the new job might be impacted if stayed any longer. Two days later, I was on the flight back to the Netherlands. I left with a very mixed feeling. Although it was unfortunate that my first new year visit after 7 years was partially frustrated by the epidemic outbreak, I still felt happy that I went through part of the difficult time with my next of kin. We’ve had some good laughter and quality time together. In Shanghai, things are still oragnized in order, my family is safe and has access to enough supplies. But as I boarded the airplane, my departure was attached to a subtle feeling of me running for life. 

Part 5: the fear 

As of today, it has been 14 days since my departure from Shanghai. It is the 14th day of my voluntary house quanrantine at home in Amsterdam. It was not until 2 days ago, I was able to sleep through the night without waking up and thinking about my people at home. It is probably the only time that I hope it was because of the age that fighting jetleg becomes more difficult. 

Just like my friends who went through the same drill as I did, we lock up ourselves through the 14-day incubation period on our own will, because even with the slightest chance, we are trying to avoid becoming the menace to any society that we are part of. 

In the solitude, It is easy for one to lose track on things. Tomorrow I will be breaking free to walk out and see the light shedding on my forehead again. At this very moment, I feel slightly like a hermit, who may need a mild warm up for a human interaction as the day starts the next morning. But my people, my family, they are still fighting with the epidemic, with the conceded sacrifice of their precious freedom. Compared to theirs, my ordeal is not even worth mentioning. That’s the fight they didn’t choose to pick, but were so determined to win; I figure this is no difference to everyone who has his /her own battlefield in this world.

In my quarantine, stories about random derogatory attitudes towards Chinese people in West flying around in social media. In New York subway, a Chinese girl was assaulted because she was wearing a face mask. Wallstreet Journal published an op-ed using the title “China is the Real Sick Man in Asia”. Tracing back one century ago, this was a humiliating term used by Western intruders when they colonized China. A few days ago, A Dutch VJ from national radio Channel 10 made up a limerick on the coronavirus crisis in the airtime, who uttered a strong discrimitary implication against Chinese people, asserting Chinese is more dangerous than the virus. 

As good as my intent to respect the freedom of speech, I have zero toleration on discrimination. I couldn’t help but saying a few words about it. Let me start by telling you, despite my agony, I understand the fear that people have in the West.

I have just told you about how most people in China was making their best efforts to mentally and physcially support Wuhan. But of course, there were also negative vibes. When the lockdown of Wuhan was first announced, many people were scared at the sight of someone from Wuhan in their 10-meter radius, like birds startled by the twang of a bow-string. As I learnt that the girl in New York was assaulted and slamped as virus simply because of her race, I had an epiphany: this abyss that Chinese (or even Asian) is encountering in Western countries is identical to that of Wuhan people in the rest of China. Buddhism teaches us using empathy to think in other people’s shoes; but it is by far the hardest thing to practice on, isn’t it? Only as the roles are swapped, we come to fully comprehend what does it mean to people on the other side. 

Nobody is made desensitized from the spreading of viruses. Infection across human at this shocking rate, athough non-unprecedented, is frightingly scary. What you and I are feeling is a primal instinct; it is biology that one couldn’t help. Even though most people is capable of rationalize the fact that Chinese people do not equal to coronavirus, the mere fact that the epidemic broke out in China comes attached to a strong connotation of horror. 

Looking back, it took human society decades to reduce discrimination against AIDS patients and we are still not quite there yet. I guess most people remember the scenes from the movie Philadelphia. But fears does not stop virus from further spreading; science might have a chance. And fear comes from intransparency; only colllaboration could help to lessen it. What we ought to do is to equip ourselves as well as people around us with the knowledge about the virus, about how to prevent infection; or in an unfortunate event, how to get in-time treatment if someone was infected. 

Part 6: the Asians with face mask

Do you know why most of us doing voluntary quarantine at home through the incubation period, although I was fairly sure that I was clear from the infection? Do you know why those people, Chinese or not, landed in the airport wearing face masks? Not because they are virus, but because as responsible as they are, they did not want to run the risk of possibly infecting any other people, whether the other people is Chinese or not. 

In front of the coronavirus, there’s no difference in age, gender, and definitely not in race! Now, I am not going as far as saying whoever wearing masks are heroes; quite the opposite, they are simply doing a thing that everybody ought to do. Can you imagine what could happen when the righteousnessis is mutilted? What if those, who have been to the infectious area in the last 14 days, were too scare to wear face masks simply because of the fear for social discrimination? I could tell you nobody wins, except for the virus. 

On a different note, I couldn’t stress more, most people who was drawn into this coronavirus episode, they are just John Doe’s in the world; some of them was only making a way home to meet families for their new year celebration, like what people do around Christmas in the West. Many travelers from Wuhan who left the city prior to the outbreak, are now stranded in other cities or even in a foreign country, without knowing how and when they could eventually get home. With the odds not on their side, they became innocent victims who appeared in one place at an inconvenient time. That reminds me of another movie, which also has Tom Hanks star in, “The Terminal”.

Part 7: the voice

At the moment the world has a mixed feeling about how Chinese government is handling the coronavirus crisis, especially after WHO announced its “PHEIC” status. We Chinese too. Most of us was mortified by the initial concealment of the outbreak, which possibly delayed the best moment of containing the epidemic. The entire Chinese social media was mourning for the passing of Doctor Li, who was one of the 8 whistleblowers exposing the situation in Wuhan in the first place. Like the rest of the world, the sporadical expansion of social media has dictated the information explosion in China; unfortunately it does not necessarily improve its environment of check and balance in the social justice. At the outset of the outbreak, the righteous voices were mutilated, whereas at the heat of fighting against the virus, scandals and rumors are flying around, which makes the cost for truth verification a high stake. 

The seamless accessibility to information is a double-edge sword. It enables and enhances people’s freedom of speech. But when giving opinion becomes one “share click” away, people is more inclined to do it recklessly. Carl Jung once said: ”Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge”. Many of us still need to learn more freedom comes with more responsibilities. Instead of conveniently judging or forwarding the news that you hear, let me invite all of you to think first, If you find something, or anything that doesn’t quite add up, collect and verify the information with as much truth as possible, before you want to share it with a greater audience. I believe that the virus episode will eventually wrap up; it is only a matter of time. At the end of the battle, we could lose many things, but with everything that we could lose, trust and the faith in truth is among the hardest to be restored. 

The world is an ever more tightly connected place. Any minor tremor caused by rain drops in one place on earth, may ripple off to create major impact on the othe end of the globe. This is the world that we are living in. When a virus epidemic breaks out in such a scale in one coutry, simply cutting economic ties would not remediate the pain entirely. In spite of my outrage on WSJ’s derogatory title, I still read through the article and tried to digest its opinion impartially. Other than the fact that this world-renowed newspaper ridicules itself by referring Beijing as “a mighty juggernaut”, I found it narrow-minded to see China in this coronavirus crisis as a separate instance. According to some recent forecasts announced by the major high-tech companies in the US, on the impact of the coronavirus crisis, both their existing productions and new product releases are expected to be delayed, as the production were interrupted on the assembly lines in China ever since the outbreak. No matter what countermeasures and alternative supplies these US companies would eventually find, it takes time for the connected marketplaces to adjust to the next equilibrium. It is almost naive for the WSJ article to believe that the crisis occured in China will solely benefits the US.

Part 8: the compassion

You might have heard that the culprit of the virus influx is those who trade and eat wildlife in Wuhan. Although it has not been scientifically proven with 100% accuracy, the experts have suggested with high confidence that the wild animals, which were illegally traded in the food market, were the original carriers of coronavirus, Through these animals,  the virus crossed the species barriers and crawl its way to infect human. 

One more time, we human disobey the rule of nature; we human cross the line to exploit the resources that are not meant to be consumed by us. The virus outbreak is the mere consequence of it. Humanity is now paying for price of our own arrogance and ignorance. This is also how most Chinese people is feeling angry about. For that, I want to state one more time, not every Chinese eats or trades wildlives. Although the advocacy on animal rights in China is not as advanced and mature as in Europe, wildlife trade is legally forbidden in China; criminals involved in those illegal trades are bound to be prosecuted. What’s more profounding is that the majority of us also despise those who abuse the animal rights, just like most people in the world. 

I have blabbed a lot, because I want to show you our part of the stories that you might have not heard before. Plus with the quarantine, I have way too much time on hand. I want to end my words on a high note. Next to empathy, Buddhism also teaches us compassion, as only with compassion, one could cure the wound on people’s body and mind. I might have bored you with my uneventful story; but with my story, I want to tell you that even though I do relate to you in any capacity, we share more in common than we differ. For whatever dismay that some of us is in, we are in this together. And it could only be overcome by our collective and compassionate efforts, rather than inflicting more fear and alienation. 

Part 9: we are thinking of you.

Admittedly, we human, as a group, is not the best at learning old lessons. From the plague in Europe in the middle age to the novel coronavirus in China today, as much as my best wishes goes, it will not be the last time that the virus breaks out and spreads among human race. As an old saying goes: pain is forgotten where gain follows. At the end of the day, we are not able to determine when the next outbreak will come, but we could decide what attitude and morale we are going to use to fight against it. Just like Albert Camus wrote in “La Peste”, which sounds so very true at this moment: “All I maintain is that on this earth there are pestilences and there are victims, and it's up to us, so far as possible, not to join forces with the pestilences.”

To all those who are still fighting the coronavirus at the frontline, I want to quote what my Dutch friends wrote in a greeting card for me during my solitude: “You may feel alone right now, but we are thinking of you!”.

[mizukabehana]

Get ready to meet one of your nominee’s for the 2017 Worst Mother of All Time Award!! 

NAME: Naida Yana Vodnaya NICKNAME: Tsunaritsa  ( Tsunami Queen )  AGE: 46  HAIR: Blue EYES: Light Blue HEIGHT: 5′3  BUILD: Toned  STATUS: Alive  OCCUPATION: General in the Imperial Army of Sin MAGIC: Water Magic  RESIDENCE: Alemna, Sin ( the capital )   CLASS: high upper class.  FAMILY: Rurick Lytvyn ( ex-husband ) Juvia Lockser ( estranged daughter ) Erik Vodnaya ( father )  Adeliya Vodnaya ( mother )  Illya Vodnaya ( sister )  Liliya Vodnaya ( sister )  Artur Vodnaya ( brother )

ONE LINE INTRODUCTION: Naida Vodnaya is often liked to the frozen oceans near her home-town; ruthless, unforgiving & frigid. 

WARNING: the contestant’s personal essay, biography && evidence she should win, contains some content viewers may find disturbing, cruel, &&& possibly triggering. Read at your own risk if you are sensitive to any of the following; parental abuse/neglect, graphic violence, illogical choices rooted in the desire for power, abuse of said power & emotional manipulation. 

BIOGRAPHY 

Naida Vodnaya was born in Lyrga, Sin. A large town with a small population, nestled in between a vast mountain range & the most frozen parts of the ocean. Lyrga was known mostly for ice-fishing, if it was known for anything at all. Despite the rough conditions, it was a place of peace. 

Her father, Erik, was perhaps the most respected & feared man in not only the town, but in any town nearby as well. For the Vodnaya family was widely known to possess magic. A trait that while no longer outlawed in the country, was still a thing that inspired terror in those who did not have it. The Vodnaya family had survived generations upon generations of magical persecution without befalling any harm && no one was interested in finding out what powers the family possessed to have done so. No one, that is, except Adeliya Ikanova, who was a travelling huntress known to pursue even the most deadly beasts. She captured Erik’s heart, at least enough to secure a marriage with him &&& the two had Naida. 

Their parenting styles aligned well, as they both believed in forging a child made of ice & steel rather than flesh && blood. Erik, who had trained under his father, ensured that Naida learned what it meant to survive. He taught Naida to harness the gift of the Vodnaya name, Water Magic. While Adeliya taught her how to hunt, how to kill. The two would often leave Naida alone in the mountains for nights, weeks, even months at a time in order to raise her as something vicious. 

Of course, as the years drew on, there were other siblings, but Naida was the first. 

Adeliya was blunt with her daughter, scolding her if she did anything ‘wrong’ but praising her for doing things ‘right’. What this often meant is Naida was met with disapproval every time she displayed tendencies towards ‘softness’ &&& cruelty was met with rewards. Erik did his best to hammer in self-preservation, after the generations of survival despite magic being illegal, this was a trait Erik felt was essential to living. 

When Naida was nineteen, she wasn’t what her parents intended. While they’d given her all the tools to survive, they hadn’t accounted on her ambition. She didn’t crave the same thrill of a chase the way her mother did & she didn’t want the peaceful life her father was desperate for. Naida wanted power. After a blow out argument with her parents, who told her that should she put the family at risk like this, they would sever all ties with her. She packed her things, of which there were not many && headed towards the capital. Determined to join the military there as one of the first mages &&& rise through the ranks.   

However, on her way there, she met a man named Rurick. He allowed her to stay with him while she rested in her travels & ultimately the two fell into bed together. Naida ending up with child, while Rurick fancied himself in love with her. The two married && Naida convinced herself that she would still be able to pursue her dreams of power with a family at her side. 

It wasn’t until the child, which she named Juvia, was born that Naida’s idea began to crumble. The girl was born with magic. Magic like Naida had never seen, not in any of her siblings. Juvia couldn’t control it. The weather was linked to her emotions &&& a rainstorm was ever-present when she cried. At first, Naida & Rurick did their best to keep their daughter happy. But as time passed, they both grew impatient with the task. 

The worse they snapped at the now toddler, the worse the weather became && the worse their moods grew. It was a horrible cycle that led to aggressive fights &&& resentment hanging heavier in the air than the rain. Eventually, when the rain storm grew so large it encompassed the land for as far as the eye could see, Rurick slammed the door shut & left. 

Naida was left alone with the daughter, now six, who had been the beginning of the end. She was sharper now, colder than she’d been before. Whatever heart she’d had when she left her parents was dead or decaying && Naida wanted was that place in the army she’d wanted in the first place. 

She may have been able to do it with a husband &&& a daughter, but as a single mother? Surely not. 

So Naida came up with a plan. She’d leave Juvia somewhere she’d never return from. She decided on Fiore, a country with a drastically different culture, a different language & as far away as possible. It took weeks of research, planning && travel, but Naida was able to ditch Juvia in a shopping square. 

Back in Sin, Naida made a b-line for the capital &&& really truly began to pursue her dreams. Knocking over prejudice & limitations put on her because of her magic. It took years, but through countless battles won, Naida rises to general status. She has her own squadron && no one knows about the daughter she once had.  Naida is considered a mage-rights hero &&& there are young mages all over the country who look at her with fierce admiration. 

It’s not until years later, when Naida is grappling with her newest obstacle of obtaining political power ( you can only fight for so long before your body begins to regret it ), that she hears about a water-mage out of Fiore who’d supposedly died in a great war against Alvarez. Naida doesn’t care much, until it’s mentioned that the water mages name was Juvia.  

MORE ABOUT NAIDA

Fun Facts: 

As of the beginning of her military career, Naida an official win/loss ratio of 43/5 in registered duels against other officers. She currently holds the record for most challenges. 

Naida’s favorite color is the blood of those in her way. 

She is so blinded by her desire for power, she often missteps & winds up moving backwards. 

The tattoo on her chest is the equivalent of a guild mark. In that it is meant to display her allegiance to the Imperial Army. 

Sinean government officals are keeping a very close eye on her, because they struggle to trust her. Though they keep her on board due to her unquestionable value as a soilder. They have no intention of granting her any higher privileges. 

Naida often wears blue lipstick. 

Her family is aware of the name she’s made for herself, but remain as clueless as everyone else that she has a daughter. 

There are multiple serious journalistic articles on her, the impact she’s had on mage rights && still no one managed to find out about Juvia. 

Rurick is re-married, with new children &&& is part of an anti-mage activist group due to his experience with Naida & Juvia. Though he does not share this, because while it would look bad on Naida, it would also look bad for him. The two are currently pretending as if they’ve never met prior to the political circumstances. 

Rurick does not know what actually happened to Juvia. In fact, he assumes that Naida handed her off to her mysterious family. 

Skills: 

As she is a general, there is a certain amount of implied skill to be at that level, of which Naida has. She is a water-mage && has mastered a lot of techniques along those lines. She is skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but relies a lot on her magic. Whereas Juvia can turn herself into water, Naida pulls the water out of other sources &&& can do so incredible quickly. 

Reputation: 

As stated above, Naida is generally looked upon as a hero in mage rights. Though many people dislike her personally, no one disputes her role in the progress of  the sinean mage movement. Opinions on this vary based on political views. People in favor of mage rights view her as a hero, while people against it target her with hatred & even violence at times. 

Her most notable feat however, was during a battle against a rebel group aiming to over throw the government. They’d managed to take over several large cities in the country && Naida was sent along with a large troop to stop them. While the initial goal was just to keep them from gaining any more ground until more backup could come, Naida changed the game pretty early on. As the cities happened to be on the coast. Using the ocean, Naida completely decimated several of their camps. The aftermath was so destructive, it earned her the nickname Tsunaritsa ( Tsunami Queen ).

EVIDENCE

So, let’s go over why you should vote for Naida to win this years award. 

Abandoning her six-year-old daughter.

Choosing a foreign country, with the biggest possible cultural, geographical & language distance possible to do so.

Before this abandonment, Naida was sure to dish out psychological && emotional abuse guaranteed to last a lifetime. 

Upon discovering her daughters ‘death’ as a “Fiorean War Hero” Naida decides to pursue a plan to achieve better political sway by carving out an “in” for herself with Fiore’s leaders by playing up the grieving mother part. 

She still hasn’t had to face any consequences for abandoning said daughter.

What do you think? Does Naida make the cut? Is she a contestant worth your vote, or simply a ‘bad mom’ who’s bitten off more than she can chew with the rest of the competition? Let us know in the comments down below! To find out the results, follow us on twitter, instagram, tumblr or facebook @badmomsquad