#the crises should overlap

[zahri-melitor]

Bringing this discussion back because not that there’s a strict divide, but two very common ways to interact with fandoms have always been: “I want to count and collate everything” and “I want to transform it and play out implications”

And these are not exclusive! They overlap! People who want to count shit usually need to start creating and transforming to make their counts work (this is why we have retcons and Crises to fix the problems identified) and people who want to write transformative stories are often playing out “well this was overlooked or these two things don’t match; let me fix it” and have been playing fix the jigsaw together as well.

But the general stereotypical divide is why Reddit is more about power scaling and “well why is Superman saying he doesn’t know Santa is real, they first met in Superman’s Christmas Adventure #1”, while Tumblr is more about should these two characters kiss and what if we overlaid our own emotions about this story onto the characters and played it out.

(Both sides like winning no prizes and trying to explain how to make Donna Troy or Hawkman’s history function, because the impulses come from overlapping places, as I noted)

But I think sometimes people need reminding that to transform you first have to count (so you can see what you’re working from) and to count you often need to transform (because when you’re building a power scale that’s how you figure out match ups that haven’t happened on page).

[goodluckclove]

I'm having a lot of fun talking with people about why they struggle in their writing, and I figure I'd share a little bit about what would keep me from writing. It's especially relevant given how soon Blind Trust is coming out - and, like I said, if you're willing to be real to me I'll be real right back.

I'll put it under a read more, as I've had the amount of alcohol that it takes me to be extra loose - meaning half of one canned cocktail. And I don't want to freak anyone out who doesn't want to see me feel a little more angsty than I tend to be online. But as I said before, I want to be honest about the craft as much as I urge others to be.

Here we goooo. Say goodbye to proper capitalization babies, Dad's getting funky.

so i started writing when i was twelve years old. i wrote carnation, a 10k word zombie novella about thinly-veiled representations of me and my two best friends at the time fighting zombies. it wasn't very good. i never wrote anything before. i enjoyed it though, so i proceeded to keep writing, near-constantly for the next fifteen years.

here's the thing, though, and it's something i don't see a lot of elder writers talk about. probably because it's not a super pleasant thing to hear, but i'm pretty sure i could pull it off.

uh, my name is clove gardener. i'm twenty-seven years old now. and i do not think i'm that good of a writer.

i don't think i'm bad. i mean, i've been published. i've worked as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. i've written for work for a few years now, so - like - objectively it must be passable. i don't hate my writing. i think it's accessible, which is cool. but if you were to ask me hey do you think you're a good writer? i would skirt around the question without answering directly until i could figure out a way to change the subject.

at this point i don't think that's going to go away. the improvement, though, has been that i barely think about that anymore. it's like there's a little dipshit in the back of my head, and occasionally he will hiss-whisper this is shit what are you doing until I find a way to shut him up.

i kind of feel like that's just the thing that happens when you're a writer. it's the camp i'd rather be in, at least. because the alternative is that i'm a really good writer who might consider themselves capable to claim authority and tell you how to do things i actually know nothing about. i'd rather have doubt. maybe less than what i have now, but still.

writers, i think, overlap with theater kids in the sense of being dramatic little piss babies. i am proud to say that i am significantly less of a piss baby than i potentially could be, especially considering that i'm in writing and theater. but you're bound to be a little dramatic at some point.

i think in the six-ish months since i've started blind trust, i've had maybe two creative existential crises. that's pretty good. that's reasonable. and they were not too unproductive either. i've learned that you can feel whiny and pitying and scared and self-loathing, and still do the thing.

i don't think you should publish your book. cool, ryan (i named my inner dipshit ryan). i'm doing it anyway.

nobody actually wants to pay money for it. yeah, ryan. maybe.

you're a terrible writer. i like it, though. i want to see how it ends. so let's keep going.

if you're wanting to publish/self-publish, and you think you don't have a chance because you aren't a beacon of self-assurance and confidence - guess what, buddy, i don't think many of the greats were. it's almost a stereotype i've seen of famous writers also being angsty weirdos who crumble into despair because the apple they ate was slightly too mealy (this is based on nothing but i can see it happening to kafka). if you think you can't be a writer because you aren't like me - friend, colleague, son, daughter, child, we are both angsty weirdos and that's okay.

last week i sobbed because riley showed me a video where a kiwi bird was sad and we had to spend the rest of the night watching videos of kiwi birds before donating to a kiwi bird charity. i make one phone call to the doctor and i have to lie down for the rest of the day. i am kind, i am fun, i am funny, and i am also like three bad dice rolls away from a breakdown. you can be both of those things. i have nuance.

i'm fine, by the way. it's been a good day. i'm just stressed about publishing because the thought of asking people to pay Human Currency for my work makes me deeply uncomfortable. but we're going to fucking deal with that, aren't we, ryan?

i don't know if this is unprofessional to reveal, but if it convinces one person to pursue a life in writing even though they sometimes take a trip to the Panic Zone, fuck it. i'm fine, you're fine, we're all going to be fine.

we should name our inner dipshits. drop your dipshit names below. ryan is your classic little goblin, but he's dressed like an e-boy. i think he vapes. i hate him.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Fic Update: like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose

Cried writing myself and got flashbacks to being a teen, but it's fine. Chapter 6!

Summary:

Eddie makes a bold move to get Christopher back into his life.

Snippet:

“You were experiencing a lot of overlapping crises. Our decision making skills are significantly impaired during that kind of mental overload.”

It shouldn’t be that way. Eddie is a firefighter. A medic. A soldier. He should be able to act rationally and in the interest of the greater good no matter what sort of emergency he’s facing. And yet… Eddie does remember feeling overloaded. Like he couldn’t choose anything and he just wanted time to stop so he had a moment to scream. 

“So, I’m just wondering, if your parents ever offered you support, or a different path forward,” Martina says. 

Eddie feels sick.

“No. No, they didn’t.”

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @buckleybabyblues

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8

[psalmsofpsychosis]

"#Batman resists his own insanity so it spreads to e v e r y t h i n g around him"

You can't just say this and not elaborate in great detail. PLEASE elaborate oh my God. I do agree but I want to hear every single thought you have about this topic.

Btw, I'm the same Anon who asked -- or not really asked but more so talked -- about Batman and Joker's soulmate sort of bond.

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH "COMBINING JOKER'S HEAD WITH BATMAN'S BODY"???????

I was thinking along the lines of the concept version and how they could never be satisfied like this, united in one body. What is the result of mixing chaos and order? What is the result of mixing the act of forgetting the past and fixating on it? What do you get through combining the ideology of making everything matter and taking all meaning away?

The result is that the pure concepts become stained and dull, pushed away from their original function, losing their purpose to oppose each other.

Becoming one entity is the act of becoming complete (concepts being stained) and losing the thing that made them them. Batman and Joker were never meant to unite in this way with overlapping voices, finishing each others thoughts and sentences and it SHOWS. I'm in love with their grotesque obsession with each other that borders on love and punishment. Their desire to win and conquer the other for good but never being able to because losing one side takes away the purpose of the other.

That's why I'm so, so, SO disappointed with how the Batman Who Laughs turned out. Where are my identity crises? Plural, because this could never be an one-and-done kind of deal. They became OneTM, inentionally or not, but BeforeTM, they were always wondering what it would be like. Batman could try to get closer to Joker's mental state but never fully experience it, same with Joker. But now they are OneTM and then what? Batman is just the Joker with Bruce's memories and face. I can't begin to describe how boring that is. That's like if DC made a "Deadpool kills the Marvel Universe" story only they used Joker instead of Deadpool.

Do you see my vision? Can you feel my pain? I wanted to psychoanalyse that asshole with my amateurish psychology knowledge but they only gave us a watered down Joker who makes other Batmen less interesting upon contact. WHERE ARE THE IDENTITY CRISES?? WHERE IS THE DIFFICULTY IN MAKING A DECISION?? WHERE ARE THE LENGTHY MONOLOGUES ARGUING BACK AND FORTH OR CONTRADICTING EACH OTHER ALL THE TIME??? The Batman Who Laughs is basically Two Face but without the wall seperating Harvey and Two Face. Joker!Batman should be unable to do anything or constantly switch between Bruce and Joker or save one life and then turn around and kill it. Like, where is the complexity? Why the hell is that guy only a murder machine?? That was neither Joker nor Batman's whole purpose??

Tell me all your thoughts, my friend, while I'm here spinning in circles and going insane. I'll never get out of this alive, you'll still find me ruminating on this on my deathbed.

I swear, if you give an absolute banger of an answer again, I'll come and start living in your walls.

Have a nice day!! :)

ANON LOVE OF MY LIFE, i'm shoveling all the insides of my walls out as we speak, you can move in by Wednesday morning—

Like, the way i felt every single word you said in my bones. You are so right, and there are a couple different points here and it's gonna get longer than usual so i'll separate each thought thread to avoid drowning in lé brain soup.

• Re: batman resisting his own insanity, i feel like i have simultaneously talked about this in 7986 different ways and haven't said anything about it at all 😂 possibly most of it has been discord ramblings. Long story short, the spine of his narrative to me is that he actively resists his own humanity and in extension of it, his evil. He wants to be good. But there's also immense psychological/emotional/physical price we pay whenever we make these kind of choices; whatever we disown and banish to our subconscious, we project out into the world and unto the people around us. The load you refuse to carry will be carried by the people around you, because at the end of the day /someone/ has to carry it, it doesn't just disappear into ether. So, in a way, for Batman to remain good, to remain a hero, someone else has to be bad. The extent in which Batman keeps his goodness "pure and untainted" dictates the horrors created around him— and particularly the creation of Joker. I say creation because the existence of Batman as a concept absolutely necessitates the existence of Joker. In a way Batman does create him, and it's true that with Batman gone Joker and half the evil in Gotham would be gone too, not because Batman is an evil presence— but precisely because he disowns his own evil.

And the thing is, in the specific context of Joker, it has become this almost loving, adoring symbiotic relationship; Joker has willingly shaped himself to fit the outline of an evil that Batman needs to defeat, he has become the sin that Batman can overcome so he can stay a saint. I actually have a draft on this that i never finished, a meta about how all the coloring choices in Joker's design eerily resemble the different color stages of a wound and the bruising after, how Batman almost feels like Jesus with Joker as his side wound, Joker being the price he pays and the pain he goes through for his martyrdom in order to stay pure, for his idealogy to have any form of meaning and significance, Joker being his very own holy suffering.

We fundamentally understand reality in form of contrasts, internal ones, external ones. As you very well pointed out, without an innate sense of contrast, we cease to have any form of coherent grasp on different concepts, and they start to sort of become noise, they become nothing. Would you truly understand what a day was and grasp it as a concept if it wasn't followed by a night? So like, what i'm saying is, people around Bruce/Batman become what he needs because they love him and they want to help him keep his narrative, the structure of his psyche intact. They help him stay 'him' by taking on the burden of what he doesn't want to be, he subconsciously shapes them in the image of what he needs to uphold his identity as a good person. This is why Alfred becomes Joker to save him, this is why Selina is the more socially acceptable pretty Joker that Bruce can actually marry and bring to his family, this is why Joker and Batman feel like they can never escape their narrative, their roles and their performance. It's the reason the moment Batman lurches to kill The Riddler in "the war of jokes and riddles", Joker stops his knife with his hand. It's their defined roles, and the greatest act of love that noone except Joker would show him. Joker says "I'm the sacrifice. I'm the evil, i'm the one who kills, i have made this choice so you can make yours. You're the good one. If you become evil, it renders both your efforts and my sacrifice meaningless, and i can not allow that to happen." And it's a truly fascinating dynamic really, for all that Joker has and hasn't done throughout the Batmanverse history, when it comes to Batman he's irredeemably selfless. Everything he does regarding Batman is to keep Batman's sense of goodness and heroism intact, and in this context he's more pure than him. Everyone around Batman wants him to kill, perhaps rightfully so, they mean well. But Joker says "i'll bear all the unbearable evil so you dont have to, and we both acutely understand that without my existence you mean nothing. I will be the monster so you dont have to." And honest to god there's a heartbreaking affection to this, something noone else will ever be willing or want to offer to Bruce, not to this extent.

in 'the war of jokes and riddles' Bruce tells Selina that "what separates him from utter evil is a hand on his knife. Joker's hand." like bro, he knows. In a deeply twisted and gutwrenching way Bruce knows that noone loves him the way Joker does.

• Re: combining Joker and Batman's heads and bodies, i was thinking.... two concepts maybe?? 👀 one is more like the Dullahan myth, in which Batman loses his head but he isn't carrying it, Joker steals it. And then Joker loses his head and Batman has to keep it and he's forced to use it. It'd be an insanely fun concept; the Dullahan myth can be interpreted as the idea of death of self by supposedly losing all that would make you human; your thoughts and memories and logic, etc. Except that you still have a heart, and a body, and they're not exactly cooperative. It'd be fun to have Joker's mind trying to tame Batman's heart and body, each fighting and singing their own song, same for Batman. A version of the myth has Dullahan carrying a human spine in one hand, and i mean, the possibilities are endless!

But also another concept would be: two frankenstein monsters lmaooo, same sense of discordent internal landscape, same sense of ideological tension and conflict, but also someone's gotta [tw mentions of gore] chop chop them and sew their body parts together, and that can be another interesting element added to their fucked up dynamic ✨️ it can also be Joker as Dr Frankensten and he sews parts of himself to Batman in order to save him!

• Re: Batman Who Laughs, oh girl (gn), i have nothing to add that you haven't already said more beautifully than me. There's so much emotional nuance and complex philosophy that could've gone into that concept, it's certainly one of the hardest Batman story variations to pull off, and weirdly enough, the people who dont directly aim for "Batman becomes Joker/Joker becomes Batman" stories often tell a better more intricate tale about that transformation than the people who straight up shoot for the concept. One of the things that always sends a chill down my spine is the ending of Batman: Europa, in which Joker is terrified and screaming as Batman laughs and lurches for him; that's the dynamic, that's the Batman who laughs, and the most unsettling part of it is that, Batman doesn't change. He doesn't have to. On a core level he is quite frankly a bit fucked up, it's not a stretch for Batman to be evil, and that's why his goodness is meaningful. Cue Nietsche's quote, "Of all evil I deem you capable: Therefore I want good from you. Verily, I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good because they had no claws." Batman is not a good guy entirely, and that makes his goodness a conscious choice with so much weight and worth and significance. I dont think a lot of DC people understand this.

With Batman Who Laughs, the name kinda sums up the take unfortunately; it's a superficial interpretation that falls flat on its own face because the writers couldn't be assed to explore how a chemical combination of Batman and Joker's narrative would unfold. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ as with any potent chemical reaction, the mixture is highly unstable and unpredictable, and that's the fucking fun of it. There's gotta be tension. I do think Batman and Joker can very well mix, i do think they can make a seamless fusion, but i dont trust any canon DC writers to handle the characterization well in a way that doesn't bore you out of your fucking mind. You gotta make a new person and you gotta capitalise on the core components both Batman and Joker share; their incessant sense of idealism, their need for purity, their volatile emotions and their aggression, their need to individuate from their context and deviate from the norm, take the third way out narrative wise, their philosophical and intellectual bend, their immense grief, their need to be oh so special and different 😂 they actually have a whole lot in common, this is why they're perfect enemies!

But yeah, writing that personality fusion is very hard because it's such an emotionally complex context and most DC writers have not felt a single emotion in the past 35 years aflhdtdhlf

Anyway yep i love your brain so SO much Anon, hope you have a wonderful day ❤️💕 and dont forget to tell me what ya think!!

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter three

[ 3k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two ] [ masterlist ] "it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

you’re on call every day from eight at night to eight in the morning, so by the time richie rolls up, you’ve usually just eaten a late breakfast and he’s heading home after work. there’s a consistency to his late night appearances, a rhythm that becomes comforting.

there’s no pretending and no politeness—what would be the point? they should invent a word for this. maybe childhood-friend-in-law would do, except you had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever marrying michael and you always knew it. that’s the feeling, though. familiarity comes built in. even when he gets truly infuriating, you don’t leave feeling worse than you did. more pissed off, sure, but never worse. it’s a distinction worth noticing. 

some nights are easy. you talk about questionable obscure music in which you really do not overlap or middling mainstream music in which you do, running out of concerts and context. sometimes it’s pure bullshit, gossip or make believe, starting up elaborate jokes too lame to admit to in front of anyone else, then discarding them when they’re outworn. sometimes it’s old stories, sometimes it’s pure speculation.

hand to god, some nights are good.

and then there’s this night.

.

.

.

you’re barely out the front door when richie calls out, hey. where the hell were you?

you got called in real early yesterday, so you missed seeing him last night. but that’s no cause for him to yell, the entitled little jerk. you shoot him a baleful glare. then, as you take in the sight of him, you settle a little.

he’s not truly angry. you’ve spent enough time with him now, you’d know.

with a shrug, you shove your hands deep in your pockets and come stand beside him. 

last night i had to smoke all by myself like a fuckin loser, he says. 

that's your cue to say, you are a fuckin loser, but you don't take it.

he offers you a drag on his own cigarette, and you shake your head. you want it bad, but you can’t. you all but smoked yourself to death between crises yesterday, and you’re trying to convince yourself now that giving it up will somehow fix things. 

but nothing will be fixed, and it’s not your responsibility anyhow. this is not your city. you’ve felt that acutely of late, as each of your last links to it is broken one by one. coke or the cops, what difference does it make? the caruso kid didn’t listen to you, didn’t listen to anyone, and once his infection got bad enough, his wife called an ambulance. it’ll be the cops for him if he survives, and his father after that, the next domino to fall. you yourself are somewhere in that long line, just waiting for your turn. 

work sucks, huh, richie says. 

you look over at him to find that he’s already looking back at you, a little sleepy but not good enough an actor to hide the keenness in his observing eyes. it’s dangerous that he noticed you were gone and it’s dangerous that he’s noticing you now, but it feels really, really fucking good. 

yeah, you say. i thank god every day that i am a woman of leisure.

he laughs. well, i’m just grateful that you allow yourself to associate out with me, you know. me in my rags and you in your pearls and finery. he gestures at your sweatpants and gigantic parka.

once my tiara’s back from the cleaner’s, it’s over for you, you say.

sure, and i’ll be crying my eyes out in a pint of cherry chocolate chip. 

with that, he launches into a long, winding tale about the shenanigans he pulled at the beef today, installment nine hundred and seventeen of his neverending battle with a guy named fak. you’re not following, but you’re not trying to follow particularly hard, either. you’re too tired, and you’ve got other shit on your mind.

that’s the closest richie has gotten to mentioning your job in weeks. 

used to be that he’d poke around with dogged persistence, as though he thought he could needle you into submission. he asked after your boss’s health, your credit score, your childhood high school. he complained he had to take a shit or that it was too cold out to stand around. all that. anything to invade, get inside, get a little more information. 

michael was like that, too. the difference between the two is that michael won. conquered you, most if not all of your secrets, and fell asleep in your bed long before even a month had passed. but richie’s been at it for a few months now and he seems to have given up. he doesn’t know your job, your last name, or your phone number. he could pick you out of a lineup but he could never track you down. and he’s decided to let that go.

it’s just as well. you’ve got leftover dim sum in the minifridge right now, and if he pushed hard enough, you’re pretty sure you’d take him up to share it. siu mai re-steamed and slices of lo bak goh re-fried in hot oil in a pan, savory and delicious, nothing better. you can’t cook, but you’d still feed him well if given half the chance. you’d arrange the table with takeout napkins and your only two sets of matching cutlery, you’d—

the real richie rudely interrupts your thoughts. 

you’re not even listening to me, are you, he says. 

no, i’m not, you admit without an ounce of compunction.

just like everyone else, hey? fan-tastic. there’s a real bite to the way he breaks the word in half.

you look at him, startled and stung. don’t be such a fucking baby.

man, fuck you, he says. real anger, rocketing out from his chest. 

fuck you! you stare at him, legitimately astonished. maybe it’s your fault for not paying attention, but you really have no idea where this is coming from. you’ve been good. maybe your mind strayed for a while tonight, but what about every other night? you’ve always listened, or at least pretended to listen, to the travails of his divorce, his money problems, his insane workplace, his dysfunctional quasi-adopted family. and there’s a hell of a lot of it. you’ve been really fucking good!

apparently, not only has he not noticed this, but he thinks he’s entitled to even more.

you say, what do you expect here when you’re going on for eons like fucking always. do you think this is fun for me?

well, someone has to talk since you won’t say shit about shit with that paranoid secret agent—

oh, fuck. something about the way richie cuts himself off. you dread whatever he’s got to say next.

he says, what’s that supposed to mean, do you think this is fun for me?

jesus christ. you fumble in your coat, only to remember that you threw away your last pack. i don’t speak in fucking riddles, richie, this is not that type of situation.

then what type of, like. his face wrinkles in horror and disgust. am i a charity project? 

this is like having a migraine, but worse. i never said… truly, what the hell is going on? how did you even get here? 

dredging up the last of your energy, the emergency fund, you turn it into bravado, your default response to an unexpectedly angry man. you give it your all cause that’s the only way to do it, turning and facing him head on, putting your shoulders back and standing square over your own two feet. 

what is this, richie? you wanna fight? you really wanna fight?

yeah, i think i do actually, says richie, alarmingly ready. i think i really fuckin do. 

fine, you spit. 

you tilt your chin up so you can look him square in the eye and you give him the worst you got, spiteful already, and then you start trying to anticipate his next move.

there’s a lot of things he could say, as it turns out, a lot of things that only he could say, because he was there for everything. he witnessed the aftermath and attended the funeral. he could have you skinned like a caught rabbit given half the chance, and you just handed it to him on a silver platter. 

besides, he has a right. he loved michael even more than you did.

the realization dawns on you far too late, and then the dread sets in. can he see it in your face? when he opens his mouth, you’re setting your jaw so you don’t flinch. 

forget it, he says flatly. he turns away a little, steps back to lean against the building, and in the shadow of the building all you can see is the shape of him. if you concentrate, you can make out his profile against the gray concrete. 

.

.

.

at first, you can’t quite believe it. it’s mercy, after all, and that’s rarely reliable. but after his last cigarette, richie folds his arms tight across his chest and tilts his head back, eyes looking up towards stars that neither of you can see through the city lights.

eventually, you do start to think the mercy is real. you test it.

can i have one? you say.

richie doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches into the left pocket of his tracksuit pants, produces a pack, and hands it over. it turns out to be brand-new box of menthols. 

you look at it for a moment. your throat’s doing that thing again. he really did notice that you weren’t here last night, huh.

i don’t do charity, you say, after a second.

it’s fine, forget it, he says. 

i don’t, though. you don’t know what to say, but you know you can’t leave things there, so you keep pushing, and the words just come out. richie, i’m—i’m really a piece of shit. 

he looks at you directly again, but this time it’s a question. he doesn’t try to negate it with a brainless autoresponse like ‘no you’re not.’ he just listens, plain and simple. for a second, you’re at a loss. 

sudden and frightening as a car crash at the next intersection, the impulse flashes through you: tell him the truth, the whole truth. test him for real, watch that mercy melt away, inevitable as ice on hot pavement. teach him to hate you like he should. it’s like strong hands digging their fingers into your shoulders, the thought, and you’re reeling.

i… you swallow, smash it down, yank the car back onto the road. i hate ice cream and babies and long walks on the beach, i hate old ladies and libraries. you look over at him. i kick dogs every chance i get. 

there it is, at the corners of his mouth.

heartened, you go on, nearly tripping over your words. like, small dogs, richie. puppies. right in the head, i kick them. 

now you’re both smiling, and the relief is so fucking crazy. you’ve fought with him so many times before, but you’ve never gotten scared by it before. this is a first, and you have no idea what to do. all you can do is repeat, i don’t do charity.

okay, he says. okay.

you lean against the wall, and you’re absurdly heartened when he does the same right next to you. something about the symmetry, something about the weight off. you finally light up one of the menthols, and you have the night with richie back again. the breeze brushes by, chilly but not unbearable. it’s perfect.

what happened today? you say.

i thought you’d like it, he says. it was funny. 

go on, then. 

you wonder if richie might try to make you say please, but he doesn’t. he walks you through the whole day of catastrophes, from the broken toilet to the loss of electricity, from the loss of electricity to the fucked-up fridge, from the fucked-up fridge to the outdoor grill—

that’s really cool, you say.

he grins. right? 

whose idea?

from his crooked, exasperated smile, you know it wasn’t his. 

syd’s, he admits.

you raise an eyebrow. so i take it the culinary institute is good for something.

he scoffs. no way they taught her that. that—he points at you—was pure chicago.

oh okay, so we’re giving the credit to the city.

yeah, we are, cause it’s like—

the city, not the woman.

it was very chicago of her! that’s a compliment. don’t make it a feminism thing. his voice matches yours, a near-laugh ribboning through it like fudge in ice cream.

alright, okay. you’re smiling like a fool and you couldn’t care less. so then what?

so turns out fak’s connect isn’t much of a connect, surprise surprise, and it’s gonna cost us fifty-five hundred just to get the fridge back up and running. so he and carmy come to me, all hat in hand, and they’re like—shit. i didn’t tell you about the dealing, did i? you got me all turned around.

didn’t tell me bout the what now?

fak snitched on me earlier, told carmy i was dealing in the alley back behind the beef. i’m not moving much weight, just like. he gestures vaguely. covid, he adds, like that’s an explanation. please don’t have a fit about this, i’ve had all i can take from carmy already.

you shake your head once, thinking hard, processing. the more you think on it, the more it unsettles you. 

i knew he was dealing, obviously, but i didn’t know about you, you say. after a second, you add, richard edgar jerimovich?

jesus, he mutters.

is that right?

and here i thought carmy was going full mom. edgar, jesus fucking christ. richie’s torn between aghast and amused. where’d you get that from?

that’s your middle name?

yeah, but—

you hold up a hand, not rude, just asking him silently to let you finish, and he does. 

richie, you broke your wrist when you were twelve trying to play tackle football with the big boys on asphalt. at some point in your thirties, you started getting a rash every time you ate shellfish, but you still do it anyways, ‘cause fuck it’. and to this day you hate nightmare on elm street cause he convinced you to watch it with him when you were both way too young. 

none of this richie told you himself. it all came straight from michael. 

you say, how do i know all that, but i didn’t know you were dealing? 

richie says nothing, so you look over and find him watching you already. it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity. 

you got a pretty good memory there, huh, he says.

it’s coke, right?

it’s just coke, yeah. was coke. it’s over now. richie shrugs wearily, turns away, and stubs out his spent cigarette on the concrete wall. mikey and his fucking secrets. i don’t know what to tell you. 

you can say that again. 

richie says nothing for a beat, then: mikey and his fucking secrets, i don’t—

okay, okay. 

he breaks into a small smile as you watch him, and then you keep on looking at him even as the smile subsides. a car goes by, and you look down at the pavement as the headlights sweet over both your faces, only looking back up at him once the car is gone.

the thing is, you really did think you knew him. what a crazy thing to think, when this is a mistake you’ve already made before with michael. you thought you knew him too. 

there could be so much of richie you don’t know, because michael didn’t know—or because michael didn’t tell. and yet richie isn’t a stranger. at any moment you could close your eyes and picture his face, imagine his voice. he’s in you that much, at least.

so here he is, through your own eyes. you’re determined to fix him in your mind, not richie from the stories, but richie as he really is. his hair is dark and close-cut, his beard too. his eyebrows are scant, and there’s a ridge on his forehead as if to make up for it. his nose is straight and straightforward. there are bags under his eyes, because of course there are, but his eyes themselves are as blue as summer, so blue they’re barely believable. that’s him, that’s his face.

then there’s the eternal black leather jacket, oversized and complete with unnecessary shoulder straps for all the bags he’ll never carry. he stinks of kitchen in general and arby’s curly fries in specific. he’s allowing you to stare at him, an indulgence that you can’t question without being a dick. he makes you want to not be a dick. all this is here, all this is real. 

he rubs his nose with the side of his wrist. 

you must be tired, you say quietly.

when he smiles like that, it’s almost like you can look down past a few decades and see the teenager you never got to meet. i’m never tired, he says.

he’s always tired, you realize. of course he would be. you only ever see him after his long-ass shifts. go to bed, richie.

that was too gentle for sure, because he says a little curiously, getting some real weird vibes off you right now.

you take one last drag, then push off the side of the building, gathering yourself to go. you want normal, don’t come to me. 

heard, he says with a chuckle. g’night.

goodnight.

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[ chapter four ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1 — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[mythicandco]

Hehe

Fic name: "Such simple, human things"

tw for self loathing/minor self harm, identity crises, minor body horror, and other typical tmc things

birthdays are one of the most human things one can imagine. what other creature celebrates anniversaries of its own birth? it's just one year closer to death. just another 365 days you can look at and say, "hey, I didn't die." it's another reminder of their impermanence, their fragility, wrapped in a pretty bow with icing and candles on top.

Adam Murray only ever had four(three?) birthdays. the rest were stolen from him from the monster in his bedroom, in his television, and now in his place.

his - the real one, not the copy, the simulacrum, the lie (because as much as they tell it that it had no way of knowing, "it wasn't your fault," that it's just as much Adam Murray as the human was, it knows they're lying) - first birthday was a half-remembered blur. there were smiling faces and bright balloons and a little cake with a single candle that his parents blew out for him snuffed out much the same way he had been smothered by shadowy claws, swallowed up by snapping jaws, given away to an insatiable hunger that didn't even remember itself and a pile of toys they'd gotten him as presents, but the details were smudged and darkened and buried and burned around the edges, like a polariod partially consumed by the hungry flames after a house fire.

its first birthday, after Lynn and Jude were gone, was spent in a hollow room. the caretakers at the orphanage had done their best to put together a party for it, but they functioned only on donations and so it was a bit small, with scarce decorations. it didn't need it, anyways. it stared blankly, almost hungrily at the five candles flickering before it, their light glinting and reflecting on its eyes.

"make a wish," a smiling adult said, trying to keep the unease out of their voice. it drank it up, sweeter than any icing, before speaking.

"I wish-"

"no, you don't say it out loud," another kid protested, a bit older but not by much, seeing as in truth the thing across the table from her was older than time. "if you do, it won't come true!"

"oh." it blinked at her, and she looked away quickly, biting her lip. "okay." it thought for a moment, then closed its eyes.

I wish for Mommy to come back.

some habits die hard.

it blew out the candles.

on its thirteenth birthday, he had already known Jonah for a handful of years. they'd met the forth time Adam ran away from the orphanage, when they were both eight, on an almost-warm day in September where the air lingered with schoolwork and guilt. Adam had been slowly taking it in when he heard a sharp cry of pain and, lo and behold, there was a boy on the sidewalk, fresh treacle salty tears streaming down his face and sticky sweet blood oozing from the scratch on his knee.

Adam looked down at him, blocking out the sun behind him, and reached out a hand. Jonah took it and stood up.

"th-thanks," he managed, wiping at the corners of his eyes.

"no problem. where do you live? I'll walk you back."

"oh, it's just here. where's your parents?"

"I'm alone."

"oh." Jonah stared at the other boy with silent reverence. "that's so cool."

it wasn't, but Adam latched onto the way Jonah looked at him, and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

they'd been best friends ever since, and Jonah's parents had arranged a party for Adam. Jonah got to design the cake, and it was a lovely thing, all black icing with overlapping red leaves, little glimpses of white teeth gleaming from behind them.

"impressive," Adam hummed, and meant it. the cake was styled with exquisite detail he had no idea his friend was capable of. "you should be an artist or something, this is super cool."

Jonah grinned with pride. "I knew you'd think so." he held up his hand. Adam blinked. Jonah blinked back, and after a moment whispered, "give me a high five."

"oh," Adam said. he flashed a smile and did just that.

Jonah's parents watched the children from a distance.

birthdays after that passed in a blur. Jonah was no longer allowed to decorate birthday cakes. Evelin came into Adam's life. the "party" part of "birthday party" began to fade. his friends would still get him presents, but for a while birthdays held almost no meaning- just another day of his life, nothing important, certainly nothing to celebrate.

and then there was Adam Murray's sixteenth birthday.

his sixteenth birthday was his favorite. it was a freezing January day, the kind of cold that could easily give you hypothermia if you stayed out in it too long, the kind of cold that made tongues stick to telephone poles, the kind of cold that made your joints go stiff and brittle, enough that maybe just a little bit of pressure would make them snap-

Jonah was the first awake that day, since he was gone when Adam sat up, still cocooned in the navy blue sleeping bag on the other boy's bedroom floor. Jonah's parents had decided that they were too old to sleep in the same bed during sleepovers anymore, and the couch was too far away downstairs, so sleeping bags it was.

"Jonah?" the blonde called out, swirling blue eyes like the sky on snow trailing across the room. empty.

and then he came trudging in, beaming from ear to ear, donning a thick winter coat that was a little too big and tracking snow through the house with his snowboots, which he hadn't bothered to take off. "Adam! you're awake! great, come on, come on come on."

without further warning, the other boy took Adam's arm, dragged him to his feet, and out they went. the blonde let out a yelp, struggling to free himself and throw on a coat and some shoes before they went outside.

"what are you-" Adam tried to start, but Jonah froze to the spot, closed his eyes, and placed a finger to his friend's lips. "shhhh. shshshsh shhhh shh. it'll ruin the surprise."

Adam kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes and trying to hide his smirk.

"so, y'know how you're sixteen and all now?" Jonah remarked conversationally as the duo stepped outside, putting a hand over Adam's eyes. he tried to push the other's hand away, but Jonah held fast, harshly whispering "stop, you can't see it yet." and he stopped struggling. "welll, I figured, hey, maybe now's a great time to show him... THIS!"

he lifted his hands from Adam's eyes and the boy blinked, momentarily blinded by the dazzling white snow. his pupils shrank for a moment to accommodate, and then there it was.

"oh."

Jonah was somehow beaming wider now, cheeks and nose flushed with red from the cold, breath misting in the frigid air. "sooo? whatdya think?"

it was... a van. silvery-black and sleek with a new paint job, glistening like something unearthly against the clear blue sky and stark white snow.

"oh, wow."

Jonah excitedly rapped on the hood with a mitten-sheathed hand, eyes sparkling as brightly as the van was. "I found this old girl in a junkyard a while back- remember?? and I got Dad to get a tow truck to bring it back here and I was keeping it a secret 'cause I wanted to surprise you and aren't you surprised? isn't it awesome?"

Adam cracked a grin.

"it is awesome. I mean- holy shit, Jonah. you did this all yourself?" he leaned closer, peering at his reflection in the window before his eyes refocused to see the interior.

Jonah's glee was all-consuming, giddiness pouring out of him like sunshine, and Adam let himself bask in it while his friend rambled on about technical jargon and engineering manuals and months of trying to find the right parts and-

"and today's the test drive! if you think you're up for it."

"I don't have a license."

"neither do I!" Jonah grinned, devious and yet innocent. "I've scooted it around a little, I think it handles pretty well, but it's your sweet sixteenth. you only get one of these. I want you to do the honors."

"what if I crash it?" he could imagine it; the vehicle slamming into a wall or guardrail, metal crunching, glass shattering, leatherette seats melting into flesh, bones cracking under the weight of the impact-

"you're not going anywhere," Jonah chuckled, wrapping a warm arm around Adam, so unaware. "just around the block. if you go too fast or anything I'll tell you to slow down, don't worry."

with that, he slid the keys into Adam's hands. they were still warm from his pocket, his eyes still wide in anticipation.

Adams fingers curled around the metal as it cooled in the air, meeting Jonah's eyes with a smile of his own. "alright, if you're sureee- RACE YOU TO THE VAN!"

"wh- HEY!" Jonah yelped, almost tripping over himself in the snow as he flailed, trying to grab the back of Adam's hoodie. "UNFAIR, I WASN'T READY!"

"BETTER CALL SHOTGUN!" the blonde hollered back, skidding into a sharp turn and grabbing the driver's side door.

"THERE'S ONLY TWO OF US!" Jonah complained back, kicking up snow in his wake as he nearly slammed his weight into the door. the boy's hair - dyed dark purple this month - peeked out from under the hood of his puffy winter jacket, and as soon as he was in the passenger's seat he pulled his hood down and hummed a little, combing through his bedhead with his fingers.

Adam's fingers tingled with anticipation as he closed them around the steering wheel, feet feeling for the pedals. Jonah was taking driver's ed, and had given him a handful of sort of-driving lessons, enough that he knew to shift the gear into reverse to pull out of the driveway.

"CAREFUL! careful," his friend yelped. "don't forget to adjust the rearview mirror and shit so you don't hit anything."

Adam smirked. "right, because I'm taller than you."

Jonah sputtered indignantly for a second, then huffed and sank into his seat, pouting comically. "only 'cause of that random stupid growth spurt."

Adam shrugged, which involved closing his eyes, and Jonah screamed again as they nearly backed up over his parents' flowerbed.

after slowly edging the van around the block a few times (each successive round making Adam more confident in his driving ability, and Jonah less so), the duo switched seats and Jonah made a few more excited noises, flapping his hands a little before settling them on the steering wheel. Adam quirked an eyebrow at him.

"where are we going now?"

Jonah smiled. "another surprise, I'm afraid. now buckle up, buttercup."

they arrived at the cinema just as the movie Jonah had picked out to watch was starting.

"where'd you get enough money for tickets?" Adam asked, already half-knowing the answer. Jonah theatrically placed a hand to his chest, mocking a surprised expression.

"Adam!" he exclaimed, draping an arm around his friend's shoulders and falling back with the other to his forehead. "I'm surprised you think so highly of me!"

they snuck in, blending with the crowd and hiding their faces with their hoodies. the movie itself - something called The Butterfly Effect - wasn't great; it was an interesting premise involving amnesia and time travel, but that was the extent of the praise.

"BOO!" Adam shouted, hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice echo. Jonah laughed and threw a discarded bucket of popcorn at the screen. security came and kicked them out, but the teens didn't stop laughing even as they were shoved back out into the bitter cold.

Jonah, doubled over, finally regained his breath and inhaled deeply, wiping away his tears before they could freeze on his cheeks. Adam chuckled a little, gelid air rushing down the back of his throat. he stifled his laughter with a cough, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie after a minute.

"that was great," he'd come to say later, once he and Jonah got home, changed into something comfier, and flopped onto the couch, letting the radiator bring warmth back into their bones.

"no problem," his friend replied, flashing that winning smile again and looking to Adam with the same reverence his eyes had held when they first met. he held up a hand, and Adam moved to high-five it.

that had been his favorite birthday. seventeen was fine, eighteen was fine - that party had been at the BPS' new headquarters, and yeah, that was pretty cool - and from there things only got worse.

and now Jonah's gone. it's still cold and snowing outside, but it's dark and deep. this cold has claws that are all too happy to slit a throat.

it swallows down the bile rising in its mouth, shuffling around in the dark and adjusting the old, worn blanket over its shoulders. it's been two days since what happened at the house, but its ribs still ache and its throat still burns.

somewhere in the other room, Thatcher and Evelin are asleep in their respective spots, Thatcher on one side of his couch and Evelin on the other. it remembers almost thinking Thank God when it found out Evie was safe before catching itself, because there was no God to hear it and anything that did would be considerably less friendly.

it remembers begging them to just lock it in the closet or something, but the other two had for some inexplicable reason decided that they would be fine on the couch, and "you can have the bedroom, Adam, it's okay. we can block up the door fine, and you deserve a comfortable place to sleep as much as any of us."

it doesn't. it doesn't deserve any of this. it deserves to be brought out back and shot until it can't hurt anyone ever again. it deserves the fate Jonah didn't- to die out in the snow, alone, forgotten. it deserves to be hurt in all the ways it hurt everyone around it.

its hands curl around the fabric over its chest, a spare hoodie Thatcher had lying around. it fits surprisingly well, and was a reluctantly welcome change from the... open-ness of before, sitting shirtless in the corner. there were no dark corners to fold into and hide away, nowhere to disappear to, nothing to shield it from the outside world. it was awful, being exposed like that. it deserved the discomfort, yes, but that had never made it feel better.

despite the fact that there's a bed in the room, it had still refused to sleep in it, instead opting to have a blanket and some pillows on the floor. it doesn't even need to sleep, why should it have a bed for it? monsters don't have beds.

there's a little tap on the door.

"Adam?"

the stolen name whisps into the bedroom like something physical, a reminder of the human boy that lost his life to further the plans of a false God. its chest feels heavy.

"I'm awake," it says, instead of echoing Evelin's words back at her. her voice tasted wrong in its mouth anyways. "what's up?"

there's a little tug. a thin thread of string connecting them, and Thatcher, and every alternate, and everyone else with M.A.D. in the universe. Evelin shifts to lean her back against the wall on the other side of the door, and it listens to her heartbeat through the wood.

"can't sleep. you?"

it shakes its head, and she half-feels it. it adjusts its heartbeat so that they're in unison. "nope."

there's a light, bitter laugh. quiet enough not to wake Thatcher, loud enough that it imprints itself into Adam's bones, and for a moment it can almost pretend that it does deserve his name.

"it's almost 12 AM," Evelin breathes. there's a quality to her voice, like a mourner at a funeral. it drips through the cracks of Adam's mind. "it's almost January 18th."

its stomach twists into a knot. "I'm sorry."

"it's okay, Adam. I'm sorry that you're turning 21 while... all this is going on."

they sit in silence for a moment. the digital clock on Thatcher's nightstand changes from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM. Evelin gets up, presses her hand against the door. Adam moves to do the same, and it's almost like their fingertips are touching.

"happy birthday."

"I don't have a birthday," it tries to say. "it's just a date I stole from some kid with his whole life ahead of him. he should be alive right now, not me. Jonah should be alive right now, too. and Lynn. birthdays are a simple, human thing. nothing about me is simple or human."

"what about humans is simple?" Evelin asks, looking up as though looking to the stars, or looking to the red fruit hanging just within reach over her head. "you're not a monster, Adam. you had no way of knowing. and when you found out, instead of going with their plans for you, you fought back. are fighting back."

"but Jonah's-"

"I know. it's not okay. but we're going to stop this before anyone else gets hurt. and it's not your fault. being human isn't about- it's not biology. it's about heart. you can have humanity. you can have love. you can have friends. you can have birthdays."

their hands are still pressed against both sides of the door. he feels the air in his lungs, the wood against his skin, the blanket around his shoulders. "why are you so good at this."

"I used to date you, you idiot. I know you. plus, everyone's brains are kind of melting right now. it's hard not to be empathetic."

he wipes away the tears he's sure they're sharing, pulls away reluctantly. "thank you."

"maybe when it gets light out we can throw together a cake. or something cake-adjacent." she laughs, just a bit. "good night, Adam. happy birthday."

"night, Ev."

he finds himself smiling a little, through the tears. happy birthday.

love. friends. birthdays. such simple, human things.

[thoughtlessarse]

In 2022, the first year of sharp rate hikes to curb rising inflation, the countries of the Global South paid almost $50 billion more in debt than they received in new financing, according to data from the UN’s trade and development arm Crises, like successes, are seen through different eyes depending on who the passive subject is. And this is one of those silent shocks, a blind spot in the wide angle of the world economy. Far from the headlines, rising interest rates are taking their toll on emerging and developing countries: the Global South paid more on its debt last year in principal and interest repayments than it received in development aid and new loans. Inflows to this group of nations fell to their lowest level since the global financial crisis, according to figures from the NGO ONE Campaign. A warning sign that should give the Federal Reserve and the European Central Bank (ECB) pause for thought. In 2022, the first year of sharp rate hikes to curb rising inflation, the countries of the Global South paid almost $50 billion more in debt than they received in new financing, according to data from the UN’s trade and development arm (UNCTAD). At the same time, official development assistance (ODA) fell for the second consecutive year and remained well below the target of 0.7% of gross national income (GNI). This target dates to the 1970s and, more than 50 years later, it has still not been met. “We are witnessing a worrying trend: financial flows are flowing out of the developing countries that need them most and towards their creditors,” summarizes the head of UNCTAD, Rebeca Grynspan, in statements to EL PAÍS. “These are nations that need external resources to complement their internal efforts and, without a positive trend in external financing, their capacity for growth is severely limited.” The fiscal constraints imposed by this situation, she adds, make it almost impossible to achieve Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs): “Addressing the overlapping crises, such as the climate emergency, will be an unattainable challenge if these trends are not reversed.”

continue reading

[windvexer]

hi! so i'm a beginner witch, but i'm struggling to start my practice because i can't seem to look past my skepticism. how did you first start to believe in your practice? if you have any advice i would greatly appreciate it – perhaps a simple spell that can 'prove', at least psychologically, that i'm not doing nothing?

Hmm. The desire for verification is very valid. Nothing wrong with it; it's good to experience the validation that yes, your magic works.

Let me ask you this.

Are you interested in witchcraft as a skill, or even a hobby (nothing wrong with that), because gaining the ability to influence the world around you with magic is cool?

Or, are you interested in witchcraft as a framework of spiritual belief that improves your lived experience on this world, and helps you navigate the "big questions" about yourself and your life?

Of course, there can be plenty of overlap between the two.

If you're in it for the sorcerous skills, divination is a quick fix that can start producing immediate results - for most. I was horrible with divination the first couple of years I tried it. But lots of people have great success right off the bat.

Beyond that, just try casting spells. Keep decent records. Different kinds of magic work better or worse for different people. Some people can do really amazing things with energy work, but I can't really do that because it exhausts me. I work very well with spirit petitions, but some witches out there don't believe in spirits at all, so of course they would have a lot of trouble working with that style. So experiment around.

Try small quality of life spells - getting work or school closed for the day, quick cash, open parking spots, etc etc. Keep in mind that some people will never excel at certain types of magic - for example, a person may never be good at love or romance magic even if they excel in other areas - so if a spell type doesn't work for you (like money, or finance) try other types.

I don't recall being very successful with magic for a while after I started practicing (like, years!) so unfortunately not all of us are blessed with quick results.

Now, on the other hand, if you are interested in witchcraft as a spiritual framework, "I know I can trust this because I've seen it work" might be a lousy way to go about things.

Witches who have practiced for decades still get crises of faith and question their experiences, their reality, and their beliefs. Many of us live in a world where these beliefs are actively shut down - either as being fake, foolish, and delusional; or, as being evil and demonic.

It can be hard to keep the torch of faith lit in the face of such a storm. And unfortunately, pulling off a few slick spells isn't going to provide perfect armor against doubts.

And what about the all too common phenomenon of someone's magic failing to work for a period of time? It is unfortunately normal for techniques witches have personally relied on for years to simply stop working for them, stalling their practice out for months or longer while they try to rebuild.

If you're looking for a spirituality to call home, you should consider seeking more stable bedrock than "my spells really do work" to build it on.

Does your practice provide you with liberation, excitement, hope? Does it grant you feelings of peace and security? When you think about the world through the lens of witchcraft, does your life become easier to navigate? Do the painful little cracks in life get smoothed over, or become easier to avoid? Does the mindset of a witch help you learn, grow, and prosper?

In the long term, I believe these are the things that keep us going - not whether or not a spell can be made manifest. If this mindset brings you peace, hope, and empowerment, then you are never just doing nothing.

To answer your question about myself, I was raised in a religious household that acknowledged the reality of spirits and witchcraft, except that they were just "evil." So, believing that it was real was never an issue for me - it was believing that I could do it which was the problem.

The answer for me is just experience, time and time again. Years of experiences stamped onto the soft clay of my life. When you look at them one at a time it seems like nothing but little divots, but after a few years you can zoom out and say, ah-

they are not random little pock marks after all.

That is a carving of a chicken.

[mariacallous]

New regulations on the screening of non-EU nationals at the bloc’s external borders, which come into force this week, could have major implications for migrants and asylum seekers’ privacy rights, campaigners warn.

Ozan Mirkan Balpetek, Advocacy and Communications Coordinator for Legal Centre Lesvos, an island in Greece on the so-called Balkan Route for migrants seeking to reach Western Europe, says the new pact “will significantly expand the Eurodac database [European Asylum Dactyloscopy Database], creating overlaps with other databases, such as international criminal records accessible to police forces”.

“Specific provisions of the pact directly undermine GDPR regulations that protect personal data from being improperly processed,” Balpetek told BIRN. “The pact only expands existing rights violations, including data breaches. Consequently, information shared by asylum seekers can be used against them during the asylum process, potentially leading to further criminalization of racialized communities,” he added.

The European Council confirmed the deal in May, and it should start being implemented in June 2026.

This legislation sets out new procedures for managing the arrival of irregular migrants, processing asylum applications, determining the EU country responsible for these applications, and devising strategies to handle migration crises.

The pact promises a “robust” screening at the borders to differentiate between those people deemed in need of international protection and those who are not.

The screening and border procedures will mandate extensive data collection and automatic exchanges, resulting in a regime of mass surveillance of migrants. Reforms to the Eurodac Regulation will mandate the systematic collection of migrants’ biometric data, now including facial images, which will be retained in databases for up to 10 years. The reform also lowers the thresholder for storing data in the system to the age of six.

Amnesty International in Greece said the new regulation “will set back European asylum law for decades to come”.

“These proposals come hand in hand with mounting efforts to shift responsibility for refugee protection and border control to countries outside of the EU – such as recent deals with Tunisia, Egypt, and Mauritania – or attempts to externalize the processing of asylum claims to Albania,” the human rights organisation told BIRN.

“These practices risk trapping people in states where their human rights will be in danger, render the EU complicit in the abuses that may follow, and compromises Europe’s ability to uphold human rights beyond the bloc,” it added.

NGOs working with people in need have been warning for months that the pact will systematically violate fundamental principles, resulting in a proliferation of rights violations in Europe.

Jesuit Refugee Services, including its arm in Croatia, said in April in a joint statement that it “cannot support a system that will enable the systematic detention of thousands of people, including children, at the EU’s external borders.

“The proposed legislation will exponentially increase human suffering while offering no real solutions to current system deficiencies,” JRS said.

Despite criticism, the European Parliament adopted the regulation in April.

Individuals who do not meet the entry requirements will be registered and undergo identification, security, and health checks. These checks are to be completed within seven days at the EU’s external borders and within three days for those apprehended within the EU.

Under the new system, EU member states can either accept a minimum of 30,000 asylum applicants annually or contribute at least 20,000 euros per asylum applicant to a joint EU fund.

After screening, individuals will be swiftly directed into one of three procedures: Border Procedures, Asylum Procedures, or Returns Procedures.

[thevelaryons]

I think fandom should start viewing the Targaryen & Velaryon succession crises during the Dance of the Dragons as the two separate issues that they are. 

In the case of Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, the fact that she had bastards ultimately has no bearing on her claim. If Rhaenyra had only trueborn children, she still would have been usurped. It all just comes down to her position as a woman in a patriarchal society. That’s the issue GRRM is trying to explore over and over again with the various women of house Targaryen who have their claims challenged by a male relative. This issue is never truly resolved and so even post-Dance we have female Targaryens getting their claims usurped by men.

It is house Velaryon that deals with the issue of having ‘bastardborn’ children in the line of inheritance during the timeline of the Dance. The various Velaryon bastards face an in-universe classist treatment on account of their birth. Despite that, GRRM depicts these bastards as notable members of their family. The succession of the Driftwood Throne is repeatedly brought up in the book in relation to them. House Velaryon is divided during the Dance. It is not until the war is over that we see a resolution to the matter of the Driftmark succession: Alyn Velaryon, born Alyn of Hull, is to inherit the seat.

Since both families are quite close, it can often lead to people mistakenly conflating all matters between them. But GRRM makes it quite clear that these two families are dealing with separate political issues over the course of the war (even if there is some overlap in the characters involved). 

[walpu]

is it okay if i talk about my oc a little bit 👉👈

her name is calico !! she works for the planetary protection division, a delegate of the ipc under the watchful gaze of qlipoth the preservation. basically what she does is she travels to planets that have gone through a crisis of some kind, usually a stellaron burst or some other world-ending phenomena, and offers her aid in rebuilding the worlds to ensure that they can overcome the crisis, usually by offering the aid of the ipc in one way or another. shes a good problem solver in terms of survival ( its because of trauma teehee )

when she was a kid she resided on a planet called kitsumiko-iv, her home planet, when a stellaron burst onto the surface of her planet, imploding from a reaction and destroying about 90% of the planet. calico was in a plane above ground before the explosion, and when it happened, her plane went down. she was the only passenger on the plane that survived. there may have been more survivors on the planet, but she couldn't find any. the ipc saw the explosion happen and considered her planet a dead planet, with no survivors, leaving calico alone for a really long time on the dying soil of her home.

her people are a long-life species, so calico was on that planet for nearly 200 years after the stellaron explosion before the ipc had made a pitstop on the planet to see if they could source out fine materials, and they accidentally stumbled across her, half dead but still kicking. immediately upon seeing other people, she completely passed out, all of the strength in her body evaporating. she was in a coma for nearly 2 years after they found her, with even the most renowned doctors ( ,,,,,,,, we know a doctor in the ipc ) trying to at least understand the reason of her survival, because it made no sense. she had virtually no food or safety, there were fragmentum monsters from the stellaron explosion all over the planet, x-rays showed that most of the muscle underneath of her flesh was just scar tissue, and she was in general a very bad state, her brain in constant survival mode.

when she woke up, after some tests, they found out that calico felt virtually no type of pain unless it passed a certain threshold, her nervous system basically shutting down because of all of the pain she went through for 200 years. while she was recovering, because she couldn't feel her body, she tended to push herself too far, even breaking one of her very fragile bones while she was trying to deliver some documents to a doctor, just trying to help out around the hospital, and all she had to say was that it was an annoyance that they were telling her that she had to rest.

years later, she made the best recovery that she could, although it wasn't perfect. now, she's under the protection of the ipc, bound by a contract because they had saved her life. she's got a really close relationship with topaz, often sending her pictures of cute, fluffy things on the planets that they travel on, while she harbors a deep respect and admiration for a certain blue-haired doctor that tried to help save her life within the intelligentsia guild, a faction that she often finds herself working with. disseminating knowledge is crucial to aiding people with their crises, no ? after all, now they'd have the knowledge to deal with another crisis should it come to that, and they wouldn't need her to check up on them again.

i feel like she would get along really well with the nameless, because their jobs overlap a little bit. where there's trouble, there's usually calico trying to solve the puzzles behind it.

in conclusion, shes my little squishy and I love her and need to share her with the world. ( I have SO much art I've done of her and ratio its a problem ) - miya <3

I LOVE HER WE NEED MORE RATIO KISSERS

[meistoshi]

i’ve written an entire study drabble on how gekkouga’s mega evolution aka the bond phenomenon affected satoshi, but this post is about how lucario’s mega evolution affects him.

it should be first noted that the bond phenomenon was unfiltered mega energy coursing through satoshi & gekkouga simultaneously, tethering them to each other in a way only stepping out of sync could separate.     as such, the bond phenomenon affected satoshi the same as mega evolution affects most pokémon  :     it gives them a boost of strength & stamina, yes, but also strips them to their instincts, leaving only what is relevant in a fight, namely adrenaline & aggression.

mega evolution using a stone is a lot more concentrated, the stone is a focus for the mega energy, linking the trainer to the pokémon only in mind & spirit, only relying on their bond.     so, satoshi & lucario’s mega evolution feels a lot more grounded, a lot more like performing a z-move with pikachu.     their spirits feel connected, their auras overlap, there’s still that feeling of being on the battlefield, but there’s no physical aspect to it, like he’s compelled to exert himself by performing moves in place or feels every hit lucario takes as though he’s standing in its place.     he still moves alongside lucario, mirroring it, but it’s through instinct, not necessarily through their bond.

it bears noting, however, that ever since kalos — more specifically ever since he & gekkouga were blasted by raw (if manipulated) mega energy in fuladari's attempt at controlling them — satoshi radiates relatively low levels of mega energy that are comparable to a key stone. this, combined with the aura-bond that satoshi & lucario share, does mean that they could activate lucario's mega evolution without satoshi possessing his key stone, to similar physiological & psychic results as the bond phenomenon.

another aspect that’s of note is that, gekkouga & lucario aren’t dissimilar in their desires for strength, but satoshi feels that want differently in either case.     with gekkouga, even when their synchronization was considered mastered, satoshi felt it in the same way he feels the need for strength during crises, during disasters, not just wanting to be stronger but needing it, needing it like he needs to breathe when underwater too long, desperately.     with lucario, he feels it like his need to become a pokémon master, a dream always just at the tips of his fingers & something he yearns for & something that consumes him, but disciplined, like the want to rise through ranks in competition.     it does help some that in the time since kalos satoshi has taken to occasional meditation, when nature’s peaceful enough to lull him into sitting still for a minute, & that he’s made attempts at developing his aura.

ever since lucario met gekkouga, lucario & satoshi have continued training their auras, & have achieved a point in their bond similar to satoshi’s connection to gekkouga, a middlepoint between a bond phenomenon & mega evolution that exists without triggering mega evolution itself or indeed altering lucario & satoshi in any notable way. it swallows them both whole all the same.

[wild-battlebond]

kalos crisis arc notes! the kalos crisis… is always cooler than expected.

131

given that the mega evolution energy (i think that's what they shoot at it) overclocks Z2's dislike for humans, did lysandre ever really have control over it at all? or does that just reflect and therefore resonate with lysandre's distain for humanity (latter probably makes more sense because mega evolution?)

hooray overgrowth representing destruction 👏👏👏

it is pretty unique (for the anime at least) to have the evil team's plan overlap the league

132

like in other similar crises throughout the series, it's trainers who have the capability to keep the vines at bay and protect other people (this, too, is "balance"… it's people and pokémon working together that can protect others)

james points out that it doesn't look like a natural disaster. which, again, is fun contrast given that it's vines

i do think that alain going dead silent while ash gets kidnapped is kind of compelling. also don't they try to crucify ash

WHERE'D TEAM ROCKET GET A HELICOPTER FROM

basically he took control of a god & took away its free will and now says that it just so happens to be doing exactly what he'd like it to be doing. like basically he's displaying himself to the world as a messenger of a god when he's the one controlling it. he refers to zygarde as a being of creation 🤔 (which is kinda more xerneas's thing? are life and creation the same thing… could be an instance of a team leader getting the function of a legendary pokémon mixed up? although zygarde does destroy then create, a form of balance. and then you could also say one core is creation & the other is destruction etc etc…)

"we have forgotten how to share" maybe you should have just funded a new care bears show or something then. instead of all this

i think alain could have been more effective if he was written as more of an older brother-type character instead of a brooding mean guy. oh well.

lysandre calls the people he's keeping the "chosen ones" - implying an ancient legend, except it's something he made up

i also think squishy's cries out to Z2 are compelling. trying to contact one's other half that won't respond (and is destroying a city)

it's also sweet how bonnie can sense what squishy's doing

yknow this is kind of like a worse gates to infinity

THEY DO CRUCIFY HIM HAHAHAHA. GABUMON MOMENTS

133

how does alain's mega ring even store the mega evolution energy. it's so small. anyways this is on him for being kind of a tool

it is pretty messed up that he shoots ash (and greninja) with a beam that has an effect. and tries to make them the chosen ones of a new world. and the fact that he breaks out just through the emotion of loving the world… another rare xy cinema moment. it's like hugtto precure.

SO TRUE!!

this really seems like a him issue. like yeah I'm pretty sure that people do have a right to welfare. i think you're just bad at running a charity

134

thus far it doesn't seem like they're doing anything with it but i do find it interesting that ash's team (and alain's charizard i guess) are battling again only a few hours after the league match… it must be rough well i guess they do start dropping like flies as an indication of this, but i mean like if they had visible signs of exhaustion or hindrance by untreated injuries.. so forth. but maybe that would have made this too complicated

it's nice that clemont gets a Moment. the youthful ideal of a world where people only build things that benefit others…

BOO I FORGOT STEVEN SHOWED UP. GO BACK TO ROCK CAVERN

ALSO SO TRUE.

it really is so awesome that bonnie is so closely tied to a legendary pokémon like zygarde

(GUY WHO'S ONLY SEEN APPMON VOICE) WOW THIS IS JUST LIKE APPMON. because this is similar to appmon it stings a lot more than the first time i watched this episode

135

it's kinda weird chespie becomes the center of the Giant Rock

the sundial came from space… so mega evolution is tied to space?!

frogs who can sense things

'serena! stay here and watch over the kids' shut up for real

136

getting the gym leaders involved is cool. also a first for the anime & i do like 'sacrifice relay' kinds of things where everyone gets picked off to let the protagonist through

oh was everyone saying "let's go" originally ikuze. like in the song

oh i forgot lysandre survived jumping off the building

100% forme… is actually cooler looking than i remembered. (is this, too, due to the impact of digimon…? did xros wars make me too used to incredibly ugly giant mech-things)

100% forme being a fusion of the two cores is an extention of XY's theme of two binaries fusing to become one (e.g. mega evolution and bond phenomenon)

it's kind of awesome that the cores say they want to rest IN the sun

[aylinjan321]

Preventive Care Tips from a Hygieniste Geneve for a Healthy Mouth

Introduction

Dental health is an important component of general well-being, and understanding the numerous factors that influence it is key. Knowing your alternatives is vital for dental emergencies or maintaining good oral health in Geneva. This post will go over four important dental care topics: dentiste urgence, appareil dentaire Herbst, hygiéniste Genève, and dental hygiene clinic Geneva. We will explain what these phrases signify, when you might need them, and how they help you maintain your dental health.

Understanding Dentiste Urgence

Dentiste urgence, or emergency dentist, is a term you should be familiar with if you ever have an unforeseen dental problem. Anyone can experience a dental emergency at any time, but if you know where to go, you can avoid a lot of pain and other complications.

What Is a Dentiste Urgence?

A dentiste urgence is a dental specialist who offers immediate treatment for urgent dental issues. This can include severe toothaches, shattered teeth, knocked-out teeth, or other oral injuries that require immediate attention. In many circumstances, these crises occur after regular business hours, making it critical to have access to an emergency dentist.

When Should You See a Dentiste Urgence?

You should seek out a dentiste urgence if you experience any of the following:

Severe toothache or pain that does not subside with over-the-counter painkillers.

A broken or chipped tooth, especially one that hurts or shows nerves.

A knocked-out tooth that needs to be reinserted quickly.

Uncontrollable bleeding from the mouth or gums.

Knowing when to act can prevent further damage and lead to a better outcome for your dental health.

Exploring the Appareil Dentaire Herbst

For those with orthodontic concerns, your dentist or orthodontist may recommend the appareil dentaire Herbst. This appliance is critical in treating some dental issues, especially in younger children.

What Is an Appareil Dentaire Herbst?

The Herbst appliance, also known as the appareil dentaire Herbst, is an orthodontic device used to rectify jaw alignment abnormalities in children and teenagers. It aids in pushing the lower jaw forward and aligning it with the upper jaw. This device is often indicated for patients with an overbite, a condition in which the upper teeth greatly overlap the lower ones.

How Does the Appareil Dentaire Herbst Work?

The Herbst dental appliance is a fixed appliance, which means it will stay in the mouth until the therapy is completed. It has metal tubes and bars that connect the bottom and top jaws and gradually pull the lower jaw forward. This procedure helps to straighten the bite and improve overall face symmetry. The appliance is typically worn for 12 to 15 months, depending on the severity of the misalignment.

The Role of a Hygiéniste Genève

It progressively moves the lower jaw forward using metal rods and tubes that connect the upper and lower jaws. In Geneva, a hygiéniste Genève might be your go-to person for frequent cleanings and preventive maintenance.

Who Is a Hygiéniste Genève?

A hygiene professional Genève works as a dental hygienist in Geneva, Switzerland. Dental hygienists are educated professionals that take special care of patients' teeth to keep them healthy. They perform procedures such as cleaning patients' teeth, taking X-rays, and teaching them how to care for their teeth at home.

Why Should You Visit a Hygiéniste Genève?

For optimal dental health, you should visit a hygiéniste Genève on a regular basis. These professionals assist remove plaque and tartar that you may miss when brushing and flossing your teeth at home. They also search for gum disease and other dental disorders that may require treatment. Regular visits to a hygiéniste Genève will help you avoid larger teeth problems in the future.

Finding the Right Dental Hygiene Clinic Geneva

If you want complete dental treatment in Geneva, you should look for a reputable dental hygiene clinic. These places can do a variety of things to help you maintain good oral health.

What Services Are Offered at a Dental Hygiene Clinic Geneva?

A dental hygiene clinic Geneva provides various services, including:

Routine Cleanings: Regular cleanings to remove plaque, tartar, and stains.

Preventive Care: Fluoride treatments, sealants, and advice on maintaining good oral hygiene.

Screenings: Checking for signs of oral diseases like cavities, gum disease, and oral cancer.

Consultations: Personalized advice on improving dental health and maintaining a bright, healthy smile.

How to Choose the Right Dental Hygiene Clinic Geneva

When selecting a dental hygiene clinic Geneva, consider the following factors:

Reputation: Look for clinics with positive reviews and testimonials from satisfied patients.

Experience: Choose a clinic with experienced dental hygienists and modern equipment.

Location: Make sure that the clinic is in an easy-to-reach place so that you can easily keep your regular visits.

Services: Choose a dental center that has a lot of different services to meet all of your needs.

Conclusion

Maintaining good oral health requires a multidimensional approach that includes regular check-ups, preventive care, and knowing where to turn in an emergency. Understanding your alternatives can help you make informed decisions about your oral health, whether you require a dentiste urgence for an unforeseen dental condition, a Herbst appliance for orthodontic correction, or the expertise of a hygiéniste Genève at a dental hygiene clinic Geneva. Regular care and timely intervention are critical to maintaining a healthy smile for many years to come.

[jerlrd]

The Role of Pharma Data Management in Ensuring Regulatory Compliance 

In an era where data creation is accelerating at an unprecedented rate, managing this deluge of information has become a critical challenge for industries across the board, especially in the pharmaceutical sector. With close to 90% of the world's data created in just the past two years and over 2.5 quintillion bytes produced daily, the volume of data is expected to grow by 800% in the next five years. This staggering growth necessitates robust pharma data management strategies to harness the potential of this information effectively. 

The Challenge of Data Quality 

Despite the abundance of data, a significant portion, about 80%, is unstructured, leading to inconsistencies, non-standardized units, and varied formats and systems of measurement. Poor data quality can have severe repercussions for businesses. According to a 2017 Gartner research, poor data quality costs organizations an average of $9.7 million annually. The report emphasizes that without addressing data quality issues, organizations face crises in information trust and business value, impacting financial and operational performance. 

Master Data Management (MDM) in Pharma 

Pharmaceutical companies are increasingly recognizing the importance of implementing Master Data Management (MDM) systems. Pharma data management technologies and applications integrate, refine, and standardize business data, synchronizing it with business processes and analytical tools. This enhances operational efficiency, workflow, and accurate reporting, ultimately aiding in improved customer engagement and critical decision-making. 

The ‘Physician’s Payment Sunshine Act,’ aimed at increasing transparency in financial relationships between healthcare providers and pharma companies, underscores the need for robust pharma data management. This act requires pharmaceutical companies to send integrated reports annually to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS), making the adoption of MDM essential for compliance. 

Benefits of Pharma Data Management 

Implementing an MDM solution in the pharmaceutical industry offers several benefits: 

Consistent and Accurate Data: Pharma data management ensures data consistency and accuracy, crucial for maintaining reliable records and reports. 

Operational Efficiency: By standardizing data and integrating it across systems, MDM enhances operational workflows, reducing redundancies and inefficiencies. 

Enhanced Decision-Making: Accurate data enables better decision-making, providing insights that drive strategic actions and business growth. 

Improved Customer Engagement: With clean and consistent data, pharma companies can engage more effectively with healthcare providers and patients. 

Regulatory Compliance: Pharma data management aids in adhering to regulatory requirements, such as the Physician’s Payment Sunshine Act, by ensuring accurate and timely reporting. 

Addressing Data Quality Issues 

Pharma companies face several pain points in managing data, including: 

Outdated Technology: Home-grown solutions built on old technology often cannot support diversified business needs. 

Operational Delays: Inefficiencies in data management lead to delays and cost overruns. 

Management Dissatisfaction: Operational and execution delays result in dissatisfaction among management. 

Lack of Automation: Many companies struggle with automating workflows, leading to manual errors and inefficiencies. 

Limited Data Accessibility: Inability to view historical information and track changes hinders effective data use. 

Compliance Challenges: Managing compliance directives requires robust data systems, often lacking in traditional setups. 

Making the Most of Pharma Data Management 

To fully leverage the benefits of MDM, pharma companies should adopt a pharma-specific MDM solution that: 

Automates Data Management: Reduces confusion about data semantics, duplicity, and overlapping. 

Enables Compliance: Facilitates adherence to data governance protocols and regulatory requirements. 

Provides Real-Time Insights: Captures, stores, processes, and retrieves data efficiently, offering real-time analytics. 

Enhances Collaboration: Supports cross-functional collaboration by providing a macro-view analysis for prescriber data and other critical information. 

Conclusion 

In today's data-driven world, pharma data management is not just a necessity but a strategic business driver for pharmaceutical companies. By creating a central data hub, MDM enables pharma companies to streamline business processes, gain real-time insights, and maintain a competitive edge in the industry. With the right MDM solution, built on robust platforms like Microsoft, pharma companies can transform their data management practices, ensuring consistent, accurate, and actionable data that drives success. Interested in learning more about how pharma data management can benefit your company? Explore our Master Data Management solutions today. 

[1time2study4ravages]

The Ravages of Time vs the ravages of time

Ravages has persisted for over 2 decades now (and by all rights it should already be considered a cult classic in the same generation as the iconic shounen greats of the late 90s and early 2000s), but unfortunately as far as the international (anglophone) scene is concerned, the waves of fans and readers have more or less failed to solidify and sustain a substantive level of active interest in the series (now of course part of it has to do with the complexity of the text, but that's not much of an excuse when there are novels and art films with dedicated critical audiences, not to mention enthusiastic and studious sections of fans that interrogate all sorts of popular media)

Ravages remains somewhat alienated from the wider 3K fandom (for various reasons that have to do with how 'history period buffs' approach their topics of interest), the anime adaptation didn't spark enough interest overseas (it doesn't help that there's longstanding bias against 3D animation and 'chinese' works among animanga consumers, plus even in the sinosphere the show didn't quite break through just yet though maybe a few more seasons and improvements can change that at some point), not a lot of those already into 'similar shows' extend their enthusiasm to this series (Kingdom had been a reliable gateway drug for years but ultimately the overlap is limited and many readers of both seemingly prefer the gimmicky hot-blooded portions rather than the finer details offered in Ravages), and both the handful newcomers and mainstays alike who have latched on to the series tend to fixate on the more superficial aspects (but then again, who doesn't like to cope with heroic tales and casual entertainment)

Having followed Ravages for over a decade, while there may have been some improvements in the past 5 years or so (for one thing there's the discord server and the subreddit) there's still so little in the way of deep engagement beyond the proliferation of fan art or participation in big archival/educational projects (wikis, critical writeups, video essays, etc.), thus I remain gloomy about long-term prospects for remembrance or research in the long run (and as the crises and contradictions in the capitalist world-system reproduce all sorts of trends and subjectivities that are at odds with what Ravages has to offer)