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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years ago

Text

Hokan’yc

A RESOL’NARE FLASHBACK ONE SHOT

A/N: This is long overdue and something I started working on WEEKS ago when @darkmist111 asked a question regarding Din and Navina’s former relationships. I mentioned a girl named Aashi that Din fell for when he was still a teenaged mando learning how to become a warrior and decided that I needed to tell their story so we know what happened and why he’s flying solo now. This is CHOCK-FULL of my personal thoughts on what training in the covert would be like so forgive me if my HCs contradict canon and please enjoy some young mandos in love.

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Warning: violence, death, injury- they are Mandalorians you guys, This is the Way and all that jazz.

Word Count: 6k

-- -- -- --

He noticed right away.

The others did, too. They always did. It was an increasingly rare occurrence as they got older. The youngest in the covert were far more used to the sudden appearance of a new student among their numbers. Whether they’d been born a member of The Tribe or taken in as a foundling like he had, all children began combat training after their 8th birthday, so the addition of a new face- or more accurately an unfamiliar helmet- in class was anticipated, expected. But by the time they’d advanced through mid level and into the final years of their required training, newcomers were few and far between.

And they stood out. Hushed whispers of buyca circulated through the room, heads tilting in the direction of the only helmet not decorated with dings and dents.

The Instructor’s gloved hands came together in two thunderous claps to signal the start of the day’s training, the chatter in the dimly lit sparring hall dissipating as the upper level class fell in line for drills. There were no assigned rankings, the students simply using height order to determine who stood where, the tallest in the last of four rows. Third row had been his designation for years, never quite the largest or most formidable in the room. But the new addition had crowded the second row by one, the overflow meaning that he would need to step back.

Fourth row, finally, thanks to the shiny buyca.

He was welcomed to the ranks of the teenaged giants with a rough elbow from Hast, the blunt jab to the ribs serving both as a kind of jovial congratulations for moving up in the world as well as a reminder that he was still the smallest of the giants. Before he could return the gesture with a thump or smack of his own though, the Instructor's booming voice silenced both of the boys’ grunts and laughter.

“Hast! Djarin!” He flinched behind his visor and knew the broad shouldered hulk beside him did, too. Though he didn’t need to, both of them already aware of what they were in for, the Instructor pointed at the front of the room, indicating that they should join him there. “Looks like you’ve volunteered to be my demonstration assistants for today’s technique.” Dank farrik.

As he and his friend reached the front of the hall, feeling the stares of the rest of the class and knowing that under their helmets they were all biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing at the misfortune the two had found themselves in, he prepared himself for a rough three hours. They’d worked on a single combat series that started with a sweep from the standing position and progressed to the ground, working on maintaining control during a fight before ending in a leg attack that when applied at full force was developed to disable the knee joint completely. Both volunteers had taken fall after fall, their limbs manipulated over and over as the Instructor demonstrated and the students got their practice in. While they were only applying light pressure as they torqued and twisted and pulled on the two volunteers’ legs, the two were left sore and aching from the repetition of the series.

If the reps and demonstrations weren’t enough, the half hour of sparring rounds afterwards certainly was.

Despite the over-torqued joints, fatigued muscles and sore spots from tight grips and unexpectedly harsh contact with the ground, he held his own for the first four rounds grappling almost as he did at full capacity. Vizsla was twice his size and always got the best of him, though still no more than usual. Hast had it just as rough as he did that day, so neither of them completed a submission during their round. He managed to sweep and submit Gralin, which was actually an improvement on their last match up, and he and Kevaz had each pulled off a submission within the allotted time of the round. Trying to control his breathing in the quick respite allowed between friendly simulated warfare, he hoped that there was still some herbal salve left in the jar back in his quarters. I’m going to need it.

His final round turned out to be the one that did him in. And it was against her- the buyca.

He, like all Mandalorians, knew that it didn’t matter if a warrior was male or female, large or small. It didn’t matter if they were quick or strong. What mattered was how well they could use the attributes and skills that they did have to defeat their opponent. He, like all Mandalorians, knew that underestimating your enemy before the fight begins is the first step in losing that fight. That’s not what he did with her, though the outcome was still the same.

The last thing he noticed as he squared off facing the newcomer, was the fact that even though she had also just finished three hours of drills and four rounds prior to that one, her helmet was still completely undented. It wasn’t even smudged. Has she even hit the ground? Mere seconds into the round he was on his back and he didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but she hadn’t let up, taking full advantage of his disorientation and finishing a very basic but extremely efficient shoulder attack. The rest of the round had been more of the same, though he was able to at least fend off any more completed submissions. By the time the Instructor called for the end of the day’s training, he was spent. But she seemed only mildly inconvenienced from the hours of physical exertion they had all just endured.

He decided right away that he had to learn what she knew.

Able to walk with far more ease than he could at the moment though, she was out of the sparring hall and heading towards the system of tunnels leading to the living quarters. Sighing, he waved off Hast and Vizsla’s attempts to get his attention, and gritting his teeth, hobbled as quickly as he could after her. “Hey,” he huffed, raising one hand in her direction even though she was facing the other way.

She slowed her pace to allow him to gain some ground, though she didn’t turn or stop. “Hey,” she responded almost questioningly, tone a mixture of uncertainty and amusement.

“I… you fight well.” He clenched his eyes shut and dropped his chin. You fight well? Di'kut.

That did make her stop, but only until he was immediately to her left, starting up again once he had a fair chance at keeping stride with her. Releasing a breath that sounded like a laugh, she nodded. “I know I do, but thanks.”

“I meant… your technique. It’s-” He tried to recall how she’d upended him so quickly, where she’d made her grips, the placement of her weight, but it was a blur. He shook his head. “I’ve never seen it. Not even in class.” So how do you know it? That was what he wanted to ask. How does a foundling know how to fight like that?

As though in answer to his unasked questions, she turned her head to face him. “We learned differently on Concordia.”

He blinked, the mention of Mandalore’s moon stopping him in his tracks. What? Of course it made sense now that she wasn’t new to Mandalorian culture. On the contrary, she’d been more heavily steeped in it than any of them. But I thought… Oh. It clicked then, that the buyca wasn’t that at all, not if she was raised on Concordia.

“When things… when we had to leave, my family came here.” She gestured at the walls of the tunnel they were walking through. “Dantooine is the only Mandalorian covert they knew of, so we joined our brothers and sisters here.” Turning back in the direction that they were walking, she nodded. “This is the Way.”

There was pain and heaviness in those words as she spoke them, but he knew that was true no matter who they came from. “This is the Way,” he responded.

She cleared her throat. “Right. So now that you know I’m no foundling, you don’t have to feel so bad for what happened back there.” She jabbed a thumb backwards towards the sparring hall.

He tried to shake his head but a sudden pinching sensation shot down his neck in protest so he aborted the motion. “No, that’s not what I-”

“No?” She stopped near the split of the tunnel where one branch led to the mess hall and the healing wing and the other to the collection of carved out spaces each occupied by Mandalorian families. He stopped as well, thankful for the chance to rest. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck one hip out. “Then what did you chase me down for exactly?”

“I told you.” He was slightly confused by her question. “The technique that you used against me. I’ve never seen it before.”

She regarded him silently for a beat. “No, you haven’t.” She began walking again. “That was pretty clear from how quickly I had you down.” The smirk, or what he imagined might be one, was back in her voice.

He followed, trying and failing to hide the slight limp the day’s training had left him with. “Well can you-“ He stopped short to avoid crashing into her as she spun around again , the unexpected shift in his weight causing him to wince behind his visor.

Hands on her hips, she tilted her head, the dim light from one of the torches hitting the still undented, unmarred surface of her helmet at an angle that threw light around the dark hall. “Can I what?”

“Can you teach it to me?”

A small snort of laughter came from her, shoulders bouncing as she shook her head. “Didn’t you take enough of a beating for one day?”

He shrugged. “The Instructor says we don’t learn if we don’t lose. This is the Way.”

Mandalorians were taught not to fear or resent loss. Not in life and not on the battlefield. Though victory was the goal of every Mando’ade who engaged in combat, in sparring, losing was viewed as an equally valued outcome. Every loss came with the opportunity to learn. To adapt. Each opponent is a teacher and the true winner is the one who leaves the training hall with more knowledge and sharper skills than those they came in with. He was only trying to adhere to what he’d been taught, only trying to become the best warrior that he could be.

She nodded slowly, the motion giving over to a head shake instead as she let out a burst of air. “This is the Way.” She agreed, taking a step towards him. “But,” she placed her hand on his shoulder and he was glad she couldn’t see the slight wince the light contact forced across his face. “No.”

He cocked his head to the side, taken aback, the jerky motion sending a sharp pang of soreness through his neck and down his left flank. Damn that- but he ignored the twinge and focused on her refusal. “Why not?”

He knew that she was new to their covert, but the unspoken rule in the training hall was that all trainees had something to teach each other. It had to have been like that on Concordia, too. It was more than a rule, it was a responsibility, a duty to ensure that every member of the fighting corps was as well prepared as they could be. It was important to learn not only to trust but to depend on each other in battle, in the field. They were training to join the ranks of the elite within the corps, which meant that being anything shy of lethal would be considered unprepared. I know she’s new but she-

“Because,” she laughed, the lilting sound making him snap his attention to her hidden face. “It’s Djarin, right?” He confirmed with a nod. “Well, Djarin, I can’t teach it to you now, because you’re already in rough shape and I don’t want to explain to the Instructor next class why his best training dummy is all torn to shreds.” She was teasing, he could tell, her hand still on his shoulder as she gave it a light squeeze, and despite only having known her for a few hours during which she and the rest of the trainees had taken turns trying to rip him and Hast limb from limb under the Instructor’s tutelage, he thought she might be smiling. “But,” she went on. “I’ll give you a few days to heal up and then,” she nodded and dropped her hand from his body. “Then I’ll teach it to you.”

-- -- -- -- --

A few days later, the two of them agreed to meet in the sparring hall on a rare day off from drills, the sound of his body hitting the ground echoing in the nearly empty space each time she swept him. His grunts, every time she planted her foot on his hip filled the room, the clatter of his helmet scraping against the stone beneath him as she dragged him down and extended the leg she had planted to flip him over her head, the sound of their gloved palms smacking together as she offered him a hand back to his feet after a particularly harsh sweep. But each time she sent him off his balance, he picked up another detail of the technique, piecing them all together to understand the motion.

He could feel the bruises forming each time he hit the ground, and he knew that later that night when he got undressed to wash up, just like the day he’d met her, his hip and the side of his thigh would be covered in purple-blue splotches. Planting his hand firmly behind him, he let out a breath and pushed himself back to his feet. “One more.” His eyebrows came together in concentration beneath his helmet. “I think I have it now.”

She tilted her head, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t quit, I’ll give you that.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

On the next try, he got the jump on her, accurately making his grips and bracing the sole of his boot in the crease of her hip. Dropping his weight in a sacrifice style throw, he extended his leg like she’d shown him, finally getting the timing right to send her flipping over his head and onto her back. Following her momentum and keeping his grips, he rolled backwards over his shoulder to come up in a mounted controlled position. That was it. I- She coughed out a wheeze, the air clearly knocked from her lungs. Oh, dank farrik I-

But before he could concern himself with whether or not he’d inadvertently hurt her, she grabbed his ankle, trapped one of his arms and with a bump of her hips, rolled them both over to reverse the position so she had the upper hand once more. “Nice work, Djarin.” She released his arm and ankle and stood. “But don’t forget to maintain control once you have it.”

She was right. He knew that. The Instructor had been drilling it into his and all of their heads since they were eight years old. If he caught me losing control that fast he’d make me regret it. He sighed. “Right.”

“That was,” he looked up at her as he got to his feet. “That was really good, though. Do it again.”

-- -- -- -- --

By the end of the month he was hitting the move against Kevaz and Gralin during live rounds. He’d also learned the buyca’s clan name was Zurn, and that she was an excellent training partner for him. In two on two drills, they teamed up against Hast and Vizsla, their individual attributes complementing each other’s well. Their extra time spent drilling together had allowed them to develop good non-verbal communication skills, and they learned to read each other well.

By the end of the year even the Instructor had noticed, and he recommended that the pair complete their final stage of the elite training program together. It was customary for recruits to team up for the last tests of their abilities as the missions that would determine whether or not Mandalorians were worthy and capable of the duties that they would be expected to perform. Protecting the Tribe. Striking first against known enemies. Reconnaissance. Responding immediately to threats. They were responsibilities that the man who raised him had taken upon his shoulders- a deeper level of the Creed that was sworn by all Mandalorians. This is the Way.

His buir had given his life in that line of duty only a few years prior, when the young Mandalorian was thirteen and had just finished his mandatory training. He had mourned in the moment, as was appropriate, but he, like all in his Tribe knew that his father was not gone. He had joined the Manda and would always be a part of the collective soul that each Mando’ade shared. His choice to follow those footsteps was a choice he made to honor the man. Had he not been a member of the elite fighting corp, he would not have been there to rescue the scared boy in the bunker, and that scared boy in the bunker might not have made it out.

That boy was no longer a boy nor was he scared. He and Zurn accepted the recommendation, and one year and two months to the day that they had first met, the two of them were sent out on their first overnight mission: staking out a rebel base on the planet that had been attracting a lot of traffic to Dantooine. The covert’s main goal was staying safe, secret and hidden from the Empire. But the increase of rebel activity wouldn’t go unnoticed for long, and the Tribe needed a clearer picture as to what they were facing, and if they needed to consider relocating the covert. He’d heard whispers that Nevarro, another planet in the Outer Rim, was the selected backup, but he, like everyone who heard those rumors, hoped that that’s all they would stay.

They were camped out behind a large outcropping of rock, completely concealed from view of the base in the dark of the night. They had spent the day charting a lay of the area and choosing a position that would keep them hidden until the morning, when they could hopefully get an idea of the goings on at the rebel encampment. He leaned against the cool rock, chin tilted upwards. The fire had burned down to just the embers, still providing enough warmth to get them to sunrise, but dim enough now to see the night sky and everything in it with no interference from the flames. Once he finished his training and had a real helmet, he would be able to change the filter on the visor to block out any amount of light he wanted. But for now he had to wait.

And he had been waiting. The last time I saw the sky at night I was-

He froze, a sudden weight falling into his right hand where it lay open on the dry ground. That’s… His eyes widened as he registered what it was, her fingers curling into his palm. She isn’t...

He was still wearing his gloves, but she had taken hers off to warm her hands by the fire. She hadn’t put them back on. He could feel the difference even through the worn leather, and it caught him completely off guard.

“Six,” he blurted, immediately cursing himself the second the syllable was out.

But instead of laughing or teasing him, the way she always had in sparring, he felt her grip tighten as she moved closer. “Six what?”

I… what do I say? Should I- He tilted his head down, watching his fingers close around hers as though they were acting of their own volition. Dank farrik, why did I just-

“Djarin?” He snapped his attention back up to see that she had turned, resting the side of her helmet against the boulder so she could look at him as she spoke. “You said six.” He sighed and nodded. I did. “Six what?”

He wasn’t sure if anyone aside from his buir knew this fact about him, the man gone and this fact with him. Why would anyone care? It doesn’t matter. But instead of ignoring the non contextual number slipping out, she had asked him what it meant. Which meant that it mattered to her. He realized in that moment that there was no one else he felt comfortable enough around to let his guard down and enjoy the stars or think about how long it’s been since he’d seen them. It was only because he trusted her that he had allowed his mind to wander into memories, that he was relaxed enough to even make the slip and say something he hadn’t meant to. He realized that he actually wanted to tell her. It shouldn’t matter but it… it does.

His right hand was still occupied with hers, so he pointed with his left at the endless, swirling silver pricks of light poking through the thick velvety blue black sky. “Ca'tra.” She followed his direction and trained her gaze upwards. “I haven’t seen the stars since I was six.”

Dropping his arm back into his lap, he felt her thumb swipe across the top of his glove. She was still touching only fabric, her thumbnail snagging on a loose stitch near the opening. But she was so close to making skin to skin contact that if he so much as sneezed she would leave her thumbprint on his pulse point. If that happened she’d feel it racing.

“Me’ven?” She whispered her disbelief, swiveling her head over to look at him. Yes, really.

None of the children ever left the covert at night. It was dangerous, they were told, because outside the halls of their underground home, there were people who would capture them, hunt them simply for being what they are- Mandalorians. That was one of the many reasons that their education revolved so heavily around weapons and combat; so they would be ready to defend themselves and others when, not if, they needed to. She and her family had come to the covert later on in her training, and things had been different where she was from, so she had no real frame of reference for what it was like to give up the stars, grow up without them. For the ones born here, they don’t… they don’t even know what they’re missing.

He took a breath, readying himself to explain. Before he could, the fire cracked as the flames found a pocket of moisture or an unlucky beetle in the wood, spitting a few red hot embers towards the pair of trainees. Without thinking, he pulled her out of the way and nearly on top of himself, one of her legs falling between his knees. He heard her surprised gasp as she caught herself, reaching for his shoulder to prevent their foreheads from colliding. His left arm curved awkwardly around her shoulders as he moved them both further from the fire and out of range of any more stray embers.

As he shifted, her fingers did too, sliding from his shoulder to his neck- to the narrow sliver of his throat that was visible between his collar and his helmet. To the place where his blood ran quick and hot beneath his skin at how close they were. He swallowed, knowing she would feel the movement of his muscles beneath her touch, unable to help the way he had reacted.

He still had her hand in his, was still holding her closer than he’d ever held anyone. Say something. “Sorry, I… the fire was-“

“Djarin?” She hadn’t taken her hand away, her fingers curling around to the back of his neck.

“Y-Yeah?” He cursed himself for the waver in his voice. Another reason to look forward to the helmet he’d receive upon the completion of his training was the modulator in the speaker component. It served multiple purposes. To further disguise a Mandalorian’s identity by modifying their voice, yes, but also to cover any vocal slips of emotion or signs of weakness. Though if he was being honest with himself he wasn’t even sure if the device would be enough to hide the effect she was having on him.

It didn’t matter though. Nothing did as she slipped her fingers into the wavy curls that stuck out from beneath his helmet at the base of his skull and he thought that every last star in the galaxy could burst, the entire sky exploding at once, and it wouldn’t take his attention from that feeling.

She… she’s… His mind was working as hard to form a thought as his lungs were to keep his breathing even. Both were failing.

“I’m glad you got to see the sky tonight.” She made no move to get off of him, and he tried to stay as still as the stone they’d been leaning against, unwilling to allow his own anxious movement to be the thing that chased her away yet unsure of what to do next.

He gave a small nod, keeping space between them so he wouldn’t knock her helmet with his own. “Yeah,” he let out a careful breath, trying not to let it shake as her light touch continued to ignite his skin. “Me too.”

Her fingers spread wide against the back of his neck, pinky dipping daringly under his collar, and suddenly he felt himself tighten the arm he had around her, his hand curving over her shoulder. This… if she doesn’t want this she’ll- He focused on the horizontal slit of her visor, his heart beating behind his eyes as he found himself wondering what color hers were, and what they would look like if he could see her now, what she’d look like, wanting this.

Wanting me.

She tilted her head down, a tiny motion that he might not have even noticed if not for the way the firelight flickered in the reflection of her helmet. “And I’m,” she paused and he felt her shoulders and back expanded under his arm as she took a breath. “I’m glad I got to see it with you, Djarin.”

“Din.” Like the number six, his name leapt from his tongue before he could pull it back, and its release into the world left him feeling almost dizzy. That’s- I just...I shouldn’t have- He felt her freeze and stiffen, heard her shocked gasp, and knew he’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have told her. She doesn’t...we’re- we aren’t-

“You...did you just-” She brought the hand that was still twined with his up between their bodies, resting them both against his chestplate. Something in the weight of them and the way they looked covering the carved ironheart symbol in the center, made him wonder if maybe it wasn’t a mistake. She’s still… she hasn’t moved. She didn’t get up or… The fingers of her other hand curled around the back of his neck, gripping him more tightly. “Djarin, is that your-”

“Yes.” He watched their hands rise on his chest as he took a deep breath, then glanced up at the place where he wished he could meet her eyes, finding only the smoky lens of her training visor. “My name.” Wished he had followed her lead and shed his gloves too, he ran his thumb along hers, pressing down. “It’s-”

“Din.” She whispered it back to him. Though the times he had heard his given name since swearing the Creed had been few, he knew that it had never sounded like that. Before he could fully appreciate the charged, electrified way that it made him feel, she was sending another jolt through his chest as she spoke again, lowering her forehead even closer to his. “Aashi.”

That’s her...She told me her n- He moved the hand he had on her shoulder to her back, flattening his palm over her spine as the charge ran through his bloodstream. Gulping down another breath, all attempts at keeping his reaction from her discarded, he pressed her closer. “Aashi.”

Until that moment he’d only known her by her house name, Zurn, and the clan signet that she’d painted on the dented steel plate that covered her left thigh. Two daggers. He never thought that the symbol fit her. It was perfect for her Buir, the woman more than proficient with blades. But she- Aashi, his heart flipped in place just thinking it- was just as skilled and dangerous without knives or vibroblades, maybe even more so without them. He’d known that from the very first day he’d met her, when he first referred to her only as buyca. And now I know her.

She closed the remaining space to let the curve of her helmet meet his with a soft but audible, tangible clink. “Kar'taylir, Din Djarin.”

He sighed out her name again as her fingers slid higher up beneath his helmet in his hair. And to think I was impressed with the stars.

That night, for the first time since coming to live among the Mandalorians, Din Djarin felt the press of lips to his bare skin as she sat behind him and lifted her own helmet just enough to kiss the back of his neck.

Kar’taylir, Aashi Zurn.

-- -- -- -- --

He noticed right away.

As he looked back over his shoulder, the tilt of her helmet was off. She was moving too slowly. A sudden chill gripped his chest making it hard to take a breath as he shoved his way back through the fray to get to her. No! Cyare! Another blast hit the wall of a nearby home that came crumbling down, and he knew that at her current pace she wouldn’t get out of the way in time. Launching himself at her, he caught her in his arms and rolled them both safely out of line of the debris, shielding her battered body with his own. He was extremely grateful that they had both just received their beskar helmets, knowing that the metal placeholders they trained in would do nothing to protect them in this situation.

But as he dragged her into an alley to safely assess her injuries, he saw that having the beskar wouldn’t matter. Not for her, not this time. No… No, Aashi… His hands shook as he placed them over the growing red bloom at her shoulder.

Aashi’s helmet, one pauldron and both thigh plates were pure Mandalorian beskar. The rest was just durasteel. Since the Great Purge beskar had been extremely hard to come by. The Armorer had to be discerning in her distribution of new pieces, oftentimes awarding warriors with beskar for achievements or special services for the Tribe. It was how he had also come to possess select pieces made of the precious material. Her wound though, was on the shoulder not encased in impenetrable armor. And he knew what that meant. She did, too.

Another year had passed since the night by the fire- a year that had kept them and the rest of their squadron busy in protecting their covert from the encroachment of Imperial violence. A year that had been spent deepening their bond not only as warriors but as partners. A year that made him certain that he was bound to her in all but ceremony.

“You h-have to go, Din.” Her voice was hoarse and thin, the modulator in her helmet doing little to hide the obvious agony she was in. He felt her weak grasp on his wrist as she tried to pull his attention from her bloodied shoulder to her face. “Din…” Hearing her speak his name in that tone broke him, and he dropped his head, letting her take his hand, letting her bleed slowly into oblivion.

“I won’t leave you.” He could hear how stubborn he sounded and he hated it. Hated that he couldn’t detach like he’d been trained to, hated that he would have to leave her, hated that he hadn’t been there to take the hit that she’d taken.

Using what little strength she still had, she brought her hand up behind his neck, fingers sliding slowly into his sweat slicked hair. He let out a shaky breath and realized his eyes were damp. “You could n-never leave me, cyare. You are a p-part of me, always.” She bent her fingers gently to nudge his helmet down to meet hers, and he placed both of his hands on the sides of her head. “B-but you have to...to warn the others. You n-need to… the covert. They need to…”

“Shh,” he silenced her, moving one hand down to mirror her touch, placing it on the back of her neck. “I know. I… I will.” He knew that she was right. He had to get back to the covert to help as many of the Tribe escape off planet to Nevarro as possible. He hadn’t gone through additional training, sworn additional oaths just to forsake it all to die in this ally with her and let the rest of the Tribe suffer the same fate. “I will.”

“Kar’taylir, Din Djarin…” She managed once more to tell him what he’d felt for so long, and then he felt her go limp, felt his heart stop, felt the world dim.

She was gone.

No. He shook his head, banishing the heartache that threatened to claim him. No. Not gone. She could never be gone. Like she told him, he was a part of her. And she was a part of him. She would be, always.

Leaving her there was the hardest trial he’d ever undergone, but there was nothing more he could do for her, and he refused to let her death be for nothing. He pushed himself back up and ran back to the covert, alerting who he could and helping as many to safety as possible.

It wasn’t until night fell three days later on Dantooine that he allowed himself to finally feel the cuts, the breaks in his heart. He had stayed behind with the rest of the elite squadron until all of the Tribe’s members were accounted for, either fallen or fled to Nevarro. Only he, Hast, Vizsla and a handful of others remained on the planet, and would be leaving in the morning never to return.

He’d spent that day solemnly traveling to the place of their first mission together, to the outcropping of rock where they’d hidden from the rebels and bared their souls to one another. When he arrived there, he felt her, as though some part of her presence had stayed there that night. He thought a part of himself must have, too. Silently, he knelt down and took the blade from its sheath on his boot. Kaysh meg miit'gaana, oyacyi. The act of writing, even something that was unlikely to be read, even something that only he knew existed, was an act of commitment. Though Mandalorians were not known for making monuments to the dead, remembrance was of personal importance to all who swore the Creed. Placing his other hand on the cool stone, he brought the sharp edge to the rock face and began carving into it. One symbol, then the next, etching the lines until all five were legible. He didn’t know how long it took, but when it was done he knew how long it would last.

“Kar’taylir, Aashi Zurn. Darasuum.”

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek @fific7 @becs-bunker @commanderlola @greatcircle79 @cannedsoupsucks

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #young din djarin #pedrostories #the mandalorian fanfic #resol’nare #resol'nare one shot #din's first girlfriend #aw #this is the way #mando'a #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #mando fanfic #mando fanfiction #din djarin x oc #pedro pascal characters

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 years ago

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book blogging #3: is this book, you know... gay?

I’ve been vaguely aware of Jen Wang’s The Prince and the Dressmaker for some time, and had the vague understanding that it fit somewhere in the genre of “warm and fuzzy queer coming of age graphic novels” that seems to be happily proliferating these days, and while I’m very much a fan of that development as a whole, I wasn’t in any particular rush to seek it out.

then the pandemic happened, everything closed, my reading started to consist mostly of whatever my friends can lend me, etc. we’ve had this conversation before.

textually, no explicit identities are ever claimed in this graphic novel; no one uses the words “transgender” or “gay” or “bisexual” or “queer.” that’s understandable, especially is a pseudo-historical setting like this one when those words weren’t have been used or understood the way they are today, although Wang is hardly trying to write historical accurate fiction and time period is deliberately vague. it’s a fairly significant plot point that Paris’ first department store is opening up over the course of the story, and in the real world that occurred in 1852. however, the titular prince is Prince Sebastian of Belgium, and since absolutely no such prince existed in 1852, it seems that this story is taking place in an aesthetically pleasing alternate history. neat!

unfortunately, like many fictional worlds, this one isn’t exempt from real world ideas about gender, and Prince Sebastian is very, very worried about what will happen if anyone discovers that he, the sole heir to the Belgian throne, really enjoys wearing dresses. the only people he trusts with his secret are a faithful servant and Frances, the dressmaker who catches Sebastian’s eye with a particularly daring and controversial design. to boil down the plot very small, Frances becomes Sebastian’s secret designer, constructing avant-garde costumes for him to wear out on the town under the alias Lady Crystallia.

so, how are we - the worldly queer readers of 2020, with our nuanced understanding of the many ways gender, gender presentation, and sexuality can interact - meant to understand Sebastian?

right off the bat, I think it’s fair to say he’s certainly not meant to be a representation of a trans girl coming into her identity. Sebastian’s doesn’t seem bothered by being a boy, only by the limitations that societal expectations have placed upon his wardrobe. he is certainly happier and more confident when he’s dressed up in wig and heels and introducing himself as Crystallia, but that primarily seems to come from being able to shed the expectations usually placed upon him and being permitted to dress as he likes. one gets the impression that Sebastian would be perfectly happy to use his real name and he/him pronouns while wearing his dresses, if only he didn’t have to worry about someone learning his secret.

it seems most accurate to say that Sebastian could most accurately be compared to a baby drag queen, which made it extra surprising that (spoiler alert!) he ends up having feelings for a girl.

more specifically, he ends up developing feelings for Frances, and she likes him back, and they have some truly adorable little moments of falling in love. by the end I was really rooting for these kids to overcome their inevitable third act misunderstanding and get back together. and even as I was rooting for them, I was wondering: wait, so is this gay at all?

despite Sebastian fitting many tropes often associated with young gay men - he loves traditionally feminine clothing, he doesn’t relate to his father’s love of sports or like physical labor, he’s extremely nervous about his parents expectations that he will find a wife - he never actually shows any particular interest in men or, indeed, anyone but Frances. while that certainly doesn’t rule out that he could be bi or pan or an asexual who experiences romantic attraction, going purely by what’s on the page it doesn’t seem implausible that Sebastian is... a straight, cisgender teenage boy who happens to really like wearing dresses. I’m not saying that’s definitively what he is - I think there’s a strong case for Sebastian being genderfluid or nonbinary - but there’s also no categorical proof that he’s not.

what about Frances? while Sebastian initially tries to hide his identity from her, including that he’s a boy, she finds out the truth before their first meeting is over, meaning she’s under no false impressions about who exactly she’s falling in love with. the first time we get a hint of blossoming romance is a classic scene of Frances watching her crush while he’s unaware, then catching herself staring and looking away while blushing. this happens to take place while Sebastian has his long red wig on, lovingly brushing out his hair, looking pretty femme. later on the two of them spend a night together that is clearly a date, complete with an adorably awkward goodnight, all of which takes place while Sebastian fully presenting as male. truthfully, none of this tells us anything about Frances’ orientation(s) either, except that external presentation is absolutely no hurdle for her.

so this could, quite feasibly, be a cisgender, heterosexual couple, with nothing in the text to either strictly confirm or refute it. if you’re looking for canon LGBT rep, you might be a bit disappointed. but is the book queer?

there is a difference, after all, especially if we go looking for queerness in the academic sense, the kind that’s less concerned with exactly quantifying identity and is much more interested in playing around to see exactly how far ideas of gender and sexuality can be warped, distorted, and otherwise used like so much Play-Doh. at very least, there’s an absolute treasure trove of gender nonconformity on Sebastian’s end, which I don’t think exactly needs spelling out. Frances is a more subtle rebel for falling in love with Sebastian in all his skirts and glitter; without going too far down the gender theory rabbit hole, heterosexuality is traditionally construed as an attraction between masculine and feminine opposites.

obviously I’m not coming at you to argue that Sebastian as a cis, straight boychild who likes dresses is more radical than a Sebastian who is explicitly not-straight or not-cisgender. but as someone who personally doesn’t jive well with the impulse to neatly label each and every facet of identity, there’s something about this very sweet book that hits like a breath of fresh air. sure, Sebastian worries about being known as a boy who wears dresses, but he never seems to worry about what his clothing preferences mean for his own gender or sexuality. likewise, Frances has a lot of concerns about the pressures of keeping secrets and trying to build her own career, but she’s spectacularly untroubled by the implications of having a crush on someone with such a wildly fluctuating gender presentation.

Frances and Sebastian know what they like - wearing/making spectacular dresses, and each other - and don’t worry about the rest, and I think there’s something really simply but powerfully sweet in that ability to simply embrace and explore what makes them happy without spiraling into an existential crisis about it. the problem is always external, always in the form of outsiders who don’t understand, never grappling for internal understanding. thematically that’s all pretty queer, so my ultimate grade is this: if nothing else, this book is one hell of an ally, and I think it has a lot of potential to resonate with folks across a wide variety of queer identities. it certainly made my heart all warm and tingly :)

#bookblr

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autisticsidesau · 5 years ago

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Read through this whole blog today and I love it, I love stories with accurate/realistic/diverse neurodivergent rep! There's really just not enough of it out there imo. So, how about more of that Virgil and Roman friendship story? :)

Thank you!! We try our best. Ah yes, more love for these two halves of a whole idiot.

TW: Ableism, Meltdowns, Panic Attack (mentioned), Taking away a person’s primary means of communication, Adult grabbing a minor

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

So ye, Virgil and Roman don’t get along and that is Important to Know

They also sit next to each other in most of their classes

It’s uh,,,, not a good combo

The pretty regularly make snide remarks and passive aggressive comments to one another

But it’s also important to note that they do have boundaries

Roman doesn’t make fun of Virgil the time they have a panic attack over a test

Virgil doesn’t make fun of Roman when he drops his tablet and freaks out thinking that he broke it

There’s limits, and they both respect them

But not everyone does respect those limits

Aka the day Everything Goes To Shit

so they’re in art class and there’s a substitute teacher (usually never a good thing)

Because subs don’t usually know their accommodations or just general disability etiquette

They’re doing art, but the sub has decided instead of just letting them work on their current projects there going to do something “fun” and “exciting”

And the sub pulls out some washable kid’s fingerpaint and the class is already like “okay this is how it’s going to be”

So they groan but do as told

The washable paint was definitely because the sub thought a class of disabled teens couldn’t handle normal paint

Which is totally wrong

The sub should know that regardless of disability/ability, absolutely zero teenagers can be responsible with paint when a sub is teaching an art class

And the thing is, Roman and Virgil as table buddies have to share paint

Virgil is Not having a good time because the texture of the paint Sucks and they’re being babied

(Also Virgil’s fine motor skills are Shit so they’re already feeling pretty self-conscious about this project)

So Roman and Virgil are sharing paint and they’re both being jerks about it

They’re not listening to one another and fighting over colors and it’s Not Great

This continues to escalate

Roman eventually pulls the paint dish closer to him because he’s trying to work on his thing and Virgil’s not even doing much to begin with so why do they need it??

Virgil retaliates by pulling it onto their desk

Roman pulls it to his

Virgil pulls it back

Two seconds later and these idiots are playing tug-of-war with a paint dish

And then

And then Roman gets a truly evil smirk on his face why they’re both tugging on the dish

And let’s go

The paint slingshots back towards Virgil, absolutely covering them

The worst part is that it gets All Over Virgil’s jacket

This is a Big Deal

Bc this is Virgil’s comfort object and now it’s Ruined

And so the inevitable happens

And they have a meltdown

And boy oh boy

Their aide is trying to get to them but the sub is instead grabbing Virgill and Virgil is screaming

And the sub is trying to soothe Virgil by saying that it’s all okay, it’s just some paint, let’s get the jacket off

But this is Virgil’s comfort item and they Do Not want to be separated from it

And now Roman’s coming over bc the sub has Crossed a Line and he’s telling the sub to let go of them bc they obviously don’t like that, leave them alone

The sub mostly ignores Roman

Eventually the aide gets the sub off of Virgil, and escorts Virgil to the schools Safe Room as Roman is still chewing out the sub

(Basically a room with a bunch of foam structures where kids can go if they’re having a meltdown/flashback/panic attack of in crisis to get away from people and take a minute)

So now that Virgil and the aide are gone, just Roman and the sub are left and Roman is Not Happy

And the sub is getting at Roman bc “you have no idea what you’re talking about. I had it handled” (which he very much did Not have it handled)

So Roman is not letting him get away with that shit

Eventually the sub has enough of this

He snaps at Roman to be quiet

Roman refuses

The sub grabs Roman’s tablet and takes it away

And now it’s Roman’s turn to have a meltdown

The poor aide is coming back to grab Virgil’s stuff and is like “Oh God I’m going to have to talk to the front office about this sub”

And so this aide grabs Virgil’s stuff and gets Roman’s tablet from the sub (why the hell does the sub have romans tablet???)

And so now this awesome aide is grabbing Roman’s stuff and Virgil’s stuff and taking Roman to a Safe Room

Virgil and Roman both end up going home early that day

It isn’t until later that week that they finally get to talk

#autistic sides au #autistic sides ask #pixelated-pineapple #roman grimm #virgil torres #autistic roman #autistic virgil #meltdowns #ableism

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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@dykeskomandr

OKAY BUT CHECK IT OUT!

So imagine Chris Kent and Duke start hanging out and being friends because Clark pushes him in the direction of the nearest Bat his age, thinking like...look it worked with all our other kids, sixth time for the win! Or whatever the actual number is with these literal mobs masquerading as families.

And Chris is for the most part a total sweetheart but he was raised by Zod and Ursa who were supremely consistent with their ‘Kryptonians are superior to all other lifeforms who should kneel before anyone with our last name’ rhetoric.

Its plausible that Chris, even knowing his parents were douches, would have internalized at least trace amounts of that he needs to work through....maybe just enough that he’s uncomfortable or awkward around Dick, because it bothers him that a human is using the name and symbol of a Kryptonian legend, or maybe its more accurately that it bothers him to realize it bothers him.

But Duke makes him snap out of it, because once he realizes the issue, he doesn’t mince words and bluntly tells Chris:

“Look, I know you’re dealing with a lot being thrown at you all at once, but if you’re gonna keep having an issue with Nightwing, we’re gonna have issues. On account of y’know, he’s my actual bro now and he’s totally a credit to that name and rep and nobody’s got any business thinking he’s not worthy of it or whatever your deal is. So you can not deal and scram, or you can deal and we’ll be cool. Or, if you want, you can choose Door Number Three and make a big deal about it and I’ll kick your ass and then we’ll be cool.”

Chris isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he defaults to: “As if you could. I am Kryptonian, you know.”

Duke just smirks back, totally unphased: “And I’m a Bat. Maybe you’ve heard of us.”

Chris thinks this over. Nods thoughtfully. “Point taken.”

And that behind them, they proceed to become the best of friends.

Meanwhile, Bruce happens to be lurking just out of sight around the corner, as he is wont to do, and overhears everything. He starts tearing up when listening to Duke casually threaten the ultra powered Kryptonian-might-as-well-be-a-demigod teenager, all without the slightest trace of nerves or even a hint of doubt about his ability to deliver yon ass-kicking if need be.

“I’m so proud,” he whispers to himself.

Hundreds of miles away, Clark hears. Because Kryptonian senses and also Plot Convenience. He sighs.

“Some parents settle for putting their kids’ artwork up on the fridge, but no. Its his kids saying they could beat up my kids that makes him gush. Every time.”

“Problem, sweetheart?” Lois asks, with clear amusement. She has no idea what Clark’s overheard, of course, but she obviously knows it has something to do with Bruce’s somewhat divergent parenting philosophies, so that’s really all she needs to get the gist of it.

“Nothing to worry about, honey,” Clark says, shaking his head. “Its just a day ending in ‘y’, that’s all.”

“Mmm,” Lois muses knowingly. She’s not quite ready to let sleeping dogs lie, as she clearly senses an opportunity here. For entertainment. Its that keen reporter’s intuition, just used here for evil personal gain.

He tries not to begrudge his wife her hobbies. She works very hard after all.

“Is Chris doing okay over at Bruce’s? Getting along alright with his brood, I hope?”

Leading questions, oh how the love of his life does love them. All the more when he knows right where they’re leading - but still knowingly marches straight towards his doom.

After all, precedence has established that trying to jump the tracks only prolongs the agony. She’s on the hunt now, and won’t stop until she’s sated her amusement.

(Cat always warned him Lois had a mean streak, but noooo, he had to chalk it up to jealousy.)

So forgoing his usual stoicism and giving his wife the frank honesty she’s after, undignified as it may be, Clark frowns. In a way some might describe as sulking, but they would be wrong, for it is merely a frown.

“Well, Duke just threatened to beat Chris up, but now that that’s out of the way, they seem to be quickly becoming the best of friends,” Clark says. In a way some might describe as petulant, but they also would be wrong.

Lois nods as she absorbs that. And then she smirks. “Try and pin that on Bruce all you want, Boy Scout, but I think we both know Duke’s not the only one of those two who’s riffing off a well-established theme there. Or am I remembering wrong, and you and Bruce actually skipped straight to the enduring friendship, with absolutely zero blustering or bravado before that?”

“Whose side are you on anyway?” Clark pouts in a very heroic way, stiff upper lip and everything, as Lois sails breezily past him down the hall.

She laughs gaily, her playful mockery lingering in her slipstream as she vanishes into their bedroom. “The truth of course, darling. I’m always on the side of Truth.”

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45oldschool-blog · 6 years ago

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Welcome back, everyone! First let’s go back to the ancient times of last week with a few to lead off the insanity that comes from our Lefty pals:

04/28 – Democrats Say Trump Not Allowed To Discuss Ralph Northam’s Infanticide Advocacy

Following the Bro-Fo Omar model, the newest form of hate speech from Conservatives is to accurately quote Leftists

04/29 – Authorities To Arrest Canadian Father If He Refers To Trans Child As Her Real Sex

Not that they give a damn, but if there are any sane members left of the gay community, taking a stand against something as wrong as this would do a lot more to showing us normals that not all Leftists are hateful and intolerant

05/02 – Obama saw the 2016 loss of Hillary Clinton as a ‘personal insult’

To paraphrase an old joke that I remember hearing about frat boys:

“How many Barack Obamas does it take to change a light bulb?”

“One. He just holds it up and the world revolves around him.”

05/03 – INSANE VIDEO shows KIDS in Philadelphia Muslim center chanting about DECAPITATING their enemies!!

Add this to the list of things that are shocking now but will probably be part of the platform for the Democratic party’s presidential nominee in 12 years

05/04 – Pelosi Wants Progressives To Rein In Their Message. She’s Afraid Trump Will Make This Move If They Don’t.

As much as I dislike Pelosi, I wish our side were as brilliant at tactics as she is. That said, I love how she’s now basically powerless to stop the “Bats*** Crazy Caucus” that’s taking over her party.

05/05 – The Einstein working for the Senate Democrats

I love stories like these – poll gets launched. Rude surprise follows.

05/06 – WATCH: PA State Rep. Brian Sims Relentlessly Harasses An Elderly Pro-Life Lady On The Sidewalk

Isn’t the honesty refreshing now that Democrats no longer feel the need to hide how much they hate half of this country? And he also wants to dox some teenagers.

05/07 – Crushed by the Leftist Juggernaut: One Lawyer’s Story

A scary and sobering look at how one half of the country feels it is OK to treat the other. And I would add that as it continues to get worse, the Vichy Conservatives still seem to think that it’s ungentlemanly to fight back.

05/08 – The Democrats’ Sore Loser Syndrome

I’d take The American Spectator’s R. Emmett Tyrell’s assertion that Democrats haven’t lost a presidential election since 1956 – when is the last time the Dems’ ran a presidential nominee who didn’t hate America? I’d argue that it was Gore, as he didn’t seem to hate us until after we rejected him.

05/09 – Progressives Face a Bleak Post-Mueller Landscape

To steal that great phrase I recall Rush using years ago as a take on FDR’s most famous line, “The Democrats’ new slogan should be, The only thing we have to offer is… fear itself!”

05/10 – Chris Buskirk: Yes, David and Nancy French, A Christian Can Support Trump

Stories like this make me want to go bak in time to cancel my subscription to National Review a few years ago, as opposed to last month.

From the archives, remember Occupy Wall Street? While folks from our side got annoyed at having these thugs and vandals compared to the Tea Party, I pointed that It turns out that the OWS Protesters Are Just Like the Tea Partiers After All!

One last note regarding this week’s Twitter roundup – while I generally keep them on the humorous/mocking side, the first one is pretty heavy and has a thread below it well worth reading. Keep it handy for any of your Lefty friends who’ve never read a history book and need to be educated at to what Nazis actually were.

On that cheery note, have a great weekend, everybody!

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ceejay1163 · 5 years ago

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The Teal* Bronco (*Turquoise)

First off I want to tag the amazing @aquadolan whose hilariously accurate reaction videos make me laugh cry every time I see them and makes me feel like we are experiencing the video together and having a laugh like a couple of mates despite being in opposite sides of the world.

Now for my reactions to 'Tricking my brother into thinking his car was flipped'

The ring mmhmmm just yes

The clapping tho? Not about it

Ethan has a shorter attention span then me and that's impressive

I did not pick the boys to like roller skating although they ice skate so it makes sense

Little bitch haha

I like the jumper. It looks fuzzy and cozy

How long did this take to plan? Honestly it seems like it would be taken forever

Roasting the matchingness to the car

He seems to actually be jealous that Gray's favourite car isn't the one he bought. That's adorable. Fuck I'm not even 2 mins into the video

And now the car is broken

Wait did I fuck up? Am I recording?

The gum Ethan. Eww for fuck sake mate don't be a pig.

'I have really bad attentional problems' yeah.. your English might need some work too

When's the last time I ate? -literally something I say most days

Roast him for dropping out of school and not remembering common phrases and sayings

Why do all Ethans pranks involve Graysons cars?

Also not wanting to say what time you wake up. Same

Laughing at yourself

I'm cool, I'm cool actually no I'm not

Groggy or drunk?

Slap. Pain kink anyone?

That damn projector

Air quotes

Did anyone understand the car mumbo jumbo? Like at all? Did anyone care?

Good job keeping a straight face Ethan. He won't suspect a thing.

Fun-ny

Why do boys turn everything into challenges? My nephews do it all the time

Full actor mode

Too many words in Google mate. Google doesn't care why you need a Photoshop artist

More air quotes. Except out of sync.

It's just a prank bro.

Bitter he can't go skating. Poor bubba

Morning voice half an octave lower. Yes please

Groaning. Thank you

I always end up falling asleep at least twice after waking up the first time before getting up. V relatable

Him jumping into bed to pretend to be asleep reminds me of being a kid and bolting through the house in the middle of the night after getting up to get a drink or something, trying to avoid monsters or waking up the parents

Jumpers with shorts?

He's got slippers. Awww

Realising a flaw in his plan when the car doesn't work.

Too many cars in the driveway

CRINGEY PHOTOS. WOO.

Fucking drama queen

That stupid photoshopped photo

Real us. Not actor mode us haha

Mr Dolan 😏

Doesn't analyze it too much. Good idea

He has such bloke-ish child like writing

The calf tattoo 🥺

Socks and slides Grayson? That's almost as bad as socks and sandals. Fucking hell

Love a man in light grey sweats

Run Ethan go back to bed. You're so grounded (idk)

He pulled Ethans hip so hard. Jesus

What is that bike thingy in the background?

WHO DOESN'T LOCK THEIR FUCKING CAR??? YOU FUCKING IMBECILE

Now Gray let's put on our big boy thinking caps. It's not Ethans fault. Entirely. You also didn't lock the fucking car

Booty 👀

Not knowing if you have insurance. Mate you should look into that. (Also a very me thing to not know)

Gray is loosing it. Like actually looks like he's gonna do the frustrated crying thing

"That's not chill you need to fix that." Pretty sure sleeping is pretty chill. Also how does one fix being a heavy sleeper (other then by having kids)

"You need to be able to wake up in the morning and get shit done" no need to call me out like that

Let me call the *mumble mumble mumble*

It's fucking turquoise- whelp fuck have to change the title

Who steals a turquoise car at 9am? He's loosing it

Awe he doesn't want people to get hurt. Cutie

Seriously why hasn't he called the police yet? When I got home from my nanas funeral to find my house broken into the first thing I did was call the cops. And then cry cos it was like 10pm and I'd just driven like 12 hrs so I was hella tired

He's V loud. And then V quiet.

You motherfucker. Ok rude but understandable

That sigh of relief and the laughter

All of the adrenaline just left Gray immediately. Also hiding under a blankie? adorable

"Where did you put it?" Immediately forgets haha

Did you ruin it and turn it pink or something? You're getting a rep E and why does Gray assume it would be painted pink?

The sound effect over Gray pulling up his pants to hide his plumbers crack 😂

You need to rub it out. I mean ok sure

"I kinked up bro" just why 😂

Slap. SPINNING. It's a theme park ride

You stole my car- Dude where's my car movie anyone?

Car upside down you say? Forshadowing

Grayson gives up on life.

Nope never mind he's dramatically throwing himself onto the bed and screaming into the blankets like a teenage girl

Also booty

FROG

Don't dance Grayson

It's all in the puff bro

Mr Dillon, not Dolan, Dillion

Grayson has left the building look

Nose boop

The eye movement. Wait you what?

Beard pulling

Give me the phone. No you are having the phone. Ok fine.

Intense eye contact for real tho

That dumbass look on his face. Grayson is shooketh to hell

Do they even understand any of this car mumbo jumbo? Does it even make any sense?

I don't know shit about insurance. Seriously dude that's not smart

MY CAR

That's not chill bro that's not chill at all. Putting them on a ban for the words chill and bro. More to be added. They use those words more then I use the word mate and that's impressive

I'm taking the phone and subtly suggesting human error (negligence) and a potential law suit

Oh you have footage? Talk to my older brother

I don't know much about cars. Dude

More stupid looks from Gray

I don't wanna see it

More screaming

More yelling Grayson

We can move your car but it's gonna cost you more money

Not falling for that pic

Just put it on the next one. Gray it's not a fucking bus. There's no schedule to have the next one come out. Use your head darlin'

More yelling in the car and swearing

How did he organise the street thing? Like actually.

Also surely it's illegal to pretend to have roadworks and fuck up traffic

VROOM. You go lil blue car

BULGE 👀 this is when I stopped paying attention the first time I watched it.

What is the camera guy (kyle?) wearing? Who said that be one were allowed to be a thing again? I'm not impressed

Grayson is v frustrated

DON'T LITTER

Neither of you should be allowed to dance. Its not good

That's the wrong question to ask about the camera guy's clothes

Fist clap

Wait where's the car? Is it safe? Poor Gray his brain is malfunctioning

Camera goes to Grayson. Ooh look bulge. Pans away. Move back ooh bulge.

If they keep upping the ante someone's gonna get hurt

I don't know what's inside of me. Never a good thing to say

Still allergic to dogs 🥺

HOLY SHIT THAT HAPPENED

I haven't heard you scream that much for that long 👀

Grayson's pretty loud. I would like to test that. Please and thank you.

Deep breathing

SOOOO HARD. (I volunteer)

I am going to prank the actual s out of Ethan. Really taking the not swearing thing seriously huh

Sure whatever you say. He doesn't believe you'll get him back Gray. Kick his ass

Bruh

Eric deserves a medal for his phone acting. Well done faceless dude named Eric

I give up. I give up on everything. If that's not a fucking mood

Double bitched sounds like it should mean something else. Just saying

Boob caress

My guard's up. No your guard can't be up. Pretty sure that's not how it works Grayson

Just don't hurt me. Grayson is so not listening to him. He's still mad

No rules

It was fake There's no rules

Ethan being hurt Gray doesn't love his present

Still mad.

Rubs sweat all over comfy jumper. Childish

HE STILL LOOKS FUCKING LIVID.

Alrighty take three of finishing this thing. Tumblr crashed yesterday after I spent like 2 hours writing this and deleted half my comments. I couldn't finish it then cos it was almost 2am and I had work today so I redid it from like the 20 minute mark of the video. Then I saved it to my drafts And published it but it deleted the last like 5 minutes of comments so I had to redo them again. Here's hoping Tumblr sorts it's shit out cos it's late and I have work again tomorrow. 🐨

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wizardwomenwisdom · 6 years ago

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my thoughts (that nobody asked for) on sierra burgess is a loser

okay okay okay.

so.

listen here, kids: this movie was real as hell.

okay, so, yes the cat fishing is a bit problematic. and so was the whole (spoiler) “hey look at this screenshot thing”.

but oh hell. oh HELL.

one, trust me, the screenshot thing has happened so many times in my high school career. about half a year ago, a girl got suspended when her friend posted a video of her flipping off our rivals.

it was bad. but it was real.

sierra was real. she was uncomfortable with her looks. she was uncomfortable about being awkward. she was pretty much me. and parts of her story, though harsh, were so accurate. (spoiler) jamey’s speech at the end, about how he may not have noticed her? honestly screw positivity at this point, because i know how that works. i know how people just look past you because you aren’t a cheerleader, or you don’t play soccer. i get it.

jamey was real. boys with emotions? healthy happy boys with emotions? give me more. give me awkward, self conscious boys. give me nerdy, star-obsessed boys. let me see boys with hearts because we, as society, need to normalize it. also, we need to normalize dating cute girls like sierra because you know that speech at the end? yeah, that’s probably because his friends would have made fun of him for sierra. teenagers are jerks. if you aren’t with society’s standerds of pretty than you aren’t cool. so yeah, that was pretty true to form in high school folks.

veronica was real. parental pressure in every form is terrifying and awful. but god it happens so much. and assholes who just want you for sex? yeah, my friend just broke up with one. it happens literally everyday in high school. and it’s the absolute worst.

my boy dan was pretty real too. the friend who gets his ass dropped for a better ticket? hey look, i’ve been there. my best friend has been there. we’ve all been there.

also jamey’s little bro was so so so real. and their relationship was perfect. (spoiler) i adored how they treated having a deaf character, even going as far as to point out all of the stupid things people did when they meet deaf people. plus their little fight at the beginning was the reason i’m living still.

basically, sierra burgess was awesome. don’t watch it if you don’t want teens being problematic, but do watch it if you want teens being real. because we’re absolute messes. and for once something got it.

(also uh don’t fight me veronica is solid bi rep and all of sierra’s rainbows point towards more bi rep. k? k.)

#sierra #sierra burgess #sierra burgess is a loser #spoilers #netflix #shannon purser #noah centineo

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mythos2 · 6 years ago

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If you’ve listened to our podcast, you’ve probably heard us say a million times that I and the other two Backloggers are originally from a state in the USA called West Virginia. Huntington WV, to be exact, similar to some other good, good podcast boys.

Plain and simple, we love our home. While I left it a few years back, I’m always homesick for it. Growing up, I took for granted just how freaking beautiful the state was, and the amazing opportunities I was granted by being in a state where even the most major city was not even a mile away from massive forests and rolling mountains. Camping, hiking, and many other things were second-nature to me. I’ve mentioned it before but Yuru Camp legit had me crying remembering what I had to leave behind for better opportunity.

I mean, that’s the capitol building for the state. And that mountain right behind it is the start of the surrounding forest. Nature be everywhere.

See, my home state is poor. Very poor, by United States standards, anyway. As beautiful as it is, West Virginia has been taken advantage of by hundreds of companies that mined it for its natural resources and then took all that money and ran. We prospered while those companies were here, but they’re mostly gone and so has our fortune. The unemployment rate is higher than the national average and the state government is constantly misaffording funds. However, we’ve always been a strong people. We were birthed out of a fighting spirit, seceding from the Confederacy and joining the Union in the American Civil War because we were against slavery. We were the first ones to start the Railroad Riots of the 1870s because we weren’t going to lie down and let companies destroy the lives of their workers, and we continued that tradition of fighting for the little guys even this year, with the Teachers’ Strikes that started a national movement for better pay state by state for teachers. We’ve always been a strong people, though we suffer a lot.

It’s because of this that I’ve found pride in the better aspects of my home. Yes, we unfortunately still have many horrible racial and gender issues, brought on by years of physical seclusion from the rest of the world thanks to our mountains as well as decades of conservatives ruling our entire state government, but we also have so many wonderful people that may not always politically agree, but will always have you at the dinner table, no matter your views or the color of your skin. There’s a hospitality in my home state that I hold dearly. We’ll not only give someone the time of day, but if you strike up a conversation, we’ll also give you a free meal and place to stay, if you need it. So I think it’s such a shame that we’ve always been given a bad rep.

West Virginia is rarely known about. Most people can find Israel on a map faster than they can find us, some of these people (no joke) living just a state over. When people do know about us, we have notoriously been represented in American media for decades as the place of illiterate and idiotic hillbillies who couldn’t tell a door from a window. We’ve been the butt of millions of jokes about how stupid and bigoted we are compared to the cultured and enlightened masses of the rest of the nation. This, coming from even those Confederate states who still to this day have some of the highest rates of police violence and racial discrimination in America. But there’s nothing we can really do. We don’t have the funds or the media empires needed to try and change other’s minds, or even have them realize we exist. So we duck our heads, keep to ourselves, and try to get by with what we have, hoping America learns about the real us in time. We’re used to being the underdog because it’s all we’ve ever known.

That’s why this past E3 Gaming Conference absolutely shocked me.

“Virtual Roads… Take me home…”

Fallout, a game series about the horrors and effects of nuclear war, has always been in love with taking well-known places in America and depicting what their apocalyptic counterparts would be. The dev teams for these games take great pride and pain to represent some of the most famous places in America, whether it be our nation’s capital of D.C., the historical city of Boston, the infamous “sin city” of Las Vegas, and even larger swaths of land like California and the Midwest. The most recent games had their teams spend long periods researching even tiny little details of Boston and D.C., representing relatively accurately (if apocalyptically) the buildings and culture of these places. So imagine what went through my head when I suddenly see the player character of Fallout walking through the hills of my home, stepping over the ruins of many places I spent my childhood.

My neighbors probably heard an incredibly loud, “HELL YEAH!” upon me seeing the New River Gorge Bridge in the game.

This was unheard of. West Virginia barely gets mentioned in a TV show now and again. The only movies that mention us are usually horror films, like Silence of the Lambs, Silent Hill, and Tucker Vs. The Forces of Evil. All good films in my book but terrible representation when the only thing we’re known for is bad cell reception and the perfect place to murder some kids. Yet booming off the walls of this convention hall was the famous song about West Virginia by John Denver, and on screens altogether larger than my apartment was something completely different. Positive representation.

In his well-known deep voice, Ron Perlman talked over that beautiful rendition of “Country Roads” in the trailer about a people that would open the door to their vault and travel out into a gorgeous landscape to rebuild, the trailer showing off beautiful mountains, dense forests, rustic towns, and unbridled opportunity. There it all was. The New River Gorge, Morgantown, The Greenbrier Hotel, and even later on in the show was Camden Park, an amusement park located not even ten minutes from my old house. But to top it all off, after the dust had settled from seeing this trailer, the director and executive producer Todd Howard took the stage and stole my heart, giving these short and sweet words:

“Now most people don’t know West Virginia that well. It is an incredible array of natural wonders, towns, and government secrets.”

It may seem like such a small thing, only two sentences, but for someone to speak so kindly even in this way about the place I grew up is so rare. And he even knew our history enough to include the mystery of ‘government secrets’ in the mix, as we used to house the United States government’s secret emergency nuclear bunker. Not only this but Todd stated soon after:

“And we even use the folklore of West Virginia to bring our Fallout [creatures] to life.”

A line stated while showcasing cryptids and monsters from our folklore and history, like The Grafton Monster, Giant Sloths from ancient times, and even allusions to The Mothman. Pieces of the culture of my state were there, in all their strange and quirky glory. As the presentation went on, and Todd continued to talk, I just became even more giddy in my seat. The millions of people who play the Fallout games would finally experience in even a small way this place that I loved.

https://twitter.com/mothmanbot/status/1015447901613514752Mothman is real, on Twitter, and will take what they want.

Representation is an important issue and there are many, many groups out there that desperately need it more than some straight white guy from the boonies. Most importantly, I feel these groups of people need our time and attention first. However, this whole thing made me realize that there was more to representation than I had initially thought, and a smaller subset to it. My visceral reaction to seeing some geological location like Charleston in a video game was because I associate with that place so much. It’s surprising how impactful where we grow up or where we call home can be to us. It incites a pride in us at times, something that is easily seen when going to sports games and watching the crowds cheer for their hometown. It’s the feeling we get when after a long trip to other cities and places, we return exhausted and collapse comfortably in the safety and familiarity our beds. Our homes speak to us deeply, and help to shape who we are in many ways.

And it’s more than just a place on a map. To see a video game company try so hard to represent an underappreciated and oftentimes forgotten culture filled me with a joy I didn’t realize I could feel. I spent a large amount of my time as a teenager just wanting to escape the culture around me. I hated the Appalachian accent, for instance, because it and its close cousin the Southern accent were the go-to accents in media to showcase someone as an ignorant idiot. My father even spent years getting rid of his Appalachian accent to be taken seriously in his field, his doctorate of chemistry apparently not always being enough to prove his intelligence. However, as I got older, and the idea of moving away became very real, I realized how much impact the people and culture around me had. I grew up with these hills and with these people, influenced by them, warts, accents, and all. I even started wishing for more of an accent, among other things I wanted to take with me, a reminder of where I came from and where I sadly had to leave.

West Virginia is one of many places that is rarely ever represented well, if represented at all. I’m glad for those small bits of positivity we get, like the My Brother My Brother and Me television show, the wonderful film Logan Lucky, the respectful and loving episode of the late Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown television series, and other small claims to fame my state gets. However, there are many other places that need some respect as well. We all have places that mean something to us. We should celebrate where we call our home and share that love with others, talk about them, let them see where our hearts lie. So that even if they aren’t always represented in some medium, we can represent them ourselves.

And speaking of representing, here’s some of my favorite images I found of WV landscapes. Hope you enjoy them.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Mythos talks about how amazing and important it is to have representation in media of where you call home. Even if it's a little nuked. If you’ve listened to our podcast, you’ve probably heard us say a million times that I and the other two Backloggers are originally from a state in the USA called West Virginia.

#country roads #Culture #E3 #fallout #Gaming #history #Home #John Denver #MBMBaM #McElroys #media #Representation #video games #West Virginia #WV

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mirroredtranslations · 8 years ago

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Tsubasa Sleeping - Chapter 6

Wazamonogatari – Nisioisin p. 227-233

[Previous Chapter]

In fact, I made quite a big gamble on the amount of information I could obtain from Dramaturgie-san about Oshino-san, and on how reliable that information was in the first place—but now that I think about it, Dramaturgie-san may have made a similar gamble on me.

I might be a young traveler, but even though I was perfect to be used as bait—not false bait, actual bait—if there were any other options, I'm sure a professional specialist like him wouldn't want an amateur girl he'd just met participating in his work.

It wasn't a question of ethics or morals, but an excess of uncertain elements; unlikely as it might be, he couldn't even be assured I wasn't on the vampire twins', High-Waist and Low-Rise's side myself.

Whether or not I could be trusted, whether or not I could be relied upon.

It was more dubious than a ghost story.

But he must have accepted my request to collaborate and the transaction I proposed because he didn't see another way forward.

Using me to locate their hideout and settle the case before more damage is done—to borrow his words, “for the twins' sake”—may not have been the optimal plan, but it certainly wasn't a bad one; I had some oddity-related acumen, after all.

Ougi-chan might look at our intentions and appraise us both as fools, with that thin smile, that dark smile of hers—

(—looking back now, regrettably, we'd probably deserve it. Both me and Dramaturgie-san ended up imprisoned in that old castle.)

(Setting aside how that happened, weren't High-Waist and Low-Rise under constant surveillance? Yet you couldn't locate their hideout without using a decoy operation? Kinda idiotic, isn't it?)

(I also doubted that point a bit; but when I actually got kidnapped, I understood. It's because the hideout itself was an oddity of some kind. That is, the old castle that was High-Waist and Low-Rise's hideout... it was what they call a citadel, but in a town that didn't exist.)

(A town that didn't exist... the scope of this story's gotten bigger. I see, I see. That's why they couldn't find the missing tourists no matter where they looked.)

(And why they couldn't find the hideout. The style is different, but was it what you call a “barrier”?)

(If they controlled an entire citadel, then they must've been pretty important vampires. They're bound by silly names like 'High-Waist' and 'Low-Rise', but I certainly understand why dealing with them was delayed—it was really for the sake of conservation.)

(Like how they wanted to conserve Shinobu-chan?)

(Hah hah. Shinobu-chan in her prime could've controlled an entire country, not just a city. So, the vampire twins' hideout would only materialize when they brought kidnapped humans inside? Understood. That'd stymie a specialist like Dramaturgie. Unless he used a decoy or bait, that is.)

(Would you use a different method, Oshino-san?)

(I'm fundamentally a negotiator, so my job would be to go between Dramaturgie and the vampire twins—my job would be to butt in. I'd be in the same position as you, Miss Class Rep. Although, I'm not so heroic as to volunteer myself as a decoy.)

(...I'm heroic?)

(Anyone can see that. But compared to spring break, you're still somewhat self-sacrificial, but not so single-mindedly devoted. You make a good impression. You just have an ulterior motive to obtain something you earnestly desire.)

Quite right.

Even if it were a big gamble, I'd embarked upon it precisely because I detected a chance of success—it certainly wasn't a barbarous act done in ignorance of cost-effectiveness.

Thinking of the dangerous situation Araragi-kun was currently in, what I was doing was completely within the bounds of safety.

(I don't think that's at all the case... But, we all place weight on things differently.)

(Indeed. Dramaturgie-san as well, I'm sure.)

However, I can't report that Dramaturgie-san and I won that gamble—we both wound up in a dungeon, what more can I say.

Can't say anything but 'I told you so'.

This is why gambling destroys your life.

It might not have been wise to make poor calculations and act according to probability—I can't say entirely for certain, but if we were gambling, it may have been easier to achieve victory with a desperate suicide attack like Araragi-kun might do.

Though, of course, this was a decoy operation planned strategically by Dramaturgie-san, who was not a professional gambler.

For the sake of his honor as a specialist, let me just say that it didn't go entirely wrong—until halfway, the plan was being carried out perfectly.

(Until halfway, huh. Wouldn't that mean, in other words, that it was half-baked?)

(That's harsh, Oshino-san...)

But there's an element of truth in that.

If the plan had failed completely, at least Dramaturgie-san and I wouldn't have been confined to a dungeon with no hope of escape—oddly enough, if it were the case that our strategy completely failed, we would likely have had an easier time reorganizing ourselves afterward.

It's like how they say a home partially destroyed by fire is nastier than one completely destroyed by fire—well, that theory does have a certain persuasiveness for someone whose house once burned down like me.

To explain from the beginning, the part of the plan in which I played a decoy went splendidly—a happy result, to use an odd expression(1). As a young traveler and a Japanese tourist, I successfully got kidnapped.

As I was walking carelessly down a remote road in the pitch black night, I encountered them—High-Waist and Low-Rise.

The two vampires.

I encountered the vampire twins.

(Hah hah. Araragi-kun would've said “walking carelessly and carefree,” wouldn't he?)(2)

(I was not walking carefree. I was quite nervous—skipping along would be out of the question. I was practically walking on tiptoe.)

And I surely am not Araragi-kun.

I didn't technically “encounter” them—I was caught in a pincer attack from the front and back.

I suddenly felt a presence behind me, and turning around, I found a golden-haired girl clothed in a dress so pitch black it dissolved into the night.

That golden hair immediately reminded me of Shinobu-chan, but I might not have needed to see her golden hair to tell she was an extraordinary presence.

The color of her eyes was red.

I suppose I could compare them to being bloodshot.

(Araragi-kun would've said “like Chiba prefecture,” don't you think?)(3)

(Even Araragi-kun wouldn't say that. Chiba doesn't have a “red” image, does it?)

(But that's because he'd call it the Bousou Peninsula, right?)(4)

(If you're going to keep making fun, I'll stop talking. This is a serious scene.)

Returning to the story.

Reflexively, I took evasive action.

Gazed at by those red eyes and utterly quavering in fear at the faint smile on her face, I instinctively prepared to run away—I nearly abandoned my role of getting kidnapped by the vampires.

I'm a complete amateur.

All I'd accumulated was information, and I wasn't suited for praxis at all—Ougi-chan would scoff at me.

I certainly won't say I got lucky, but as soon as I turned around instinctively to start running, my feet suddenly stopped.

It was a pincer attack.

In front of me, where a short while ago there had definitely been nobody there, a blonde, red-eyed non-existence had come into being—standing in my way.

Like a wall.

Blocking my way.

In counterpoint to the vampire in the pitch-black dress behind me, the vampire in front of me was wearing a pure white tuxedo.

With a smart bow tie.

Smiling thinly, gazing at me with eyes that really did look bloodshot.

A smile thin as a knife.

(I see. The twins were a man and a woman? All the more unusual.)

(Well, thinking about it now, I honestly can't assert whether they were men or women... I'll call them “she” and “he” for convenience, but I couldn't really judge their sexes. They were both so very beautiful—as if they'd transcended sex itself.)

(Hmph. That's not all that unusual for oddities. All you need to do is observe their division of roles.)

(Division of roles?)

(Assigning themselves to be male or female... Even in a community of two, you can see there's a certain social sense about it. Very interesting.)

(Social sense... Perhaps. If so, it's a completely different mode of being from Shinobu-chan.)

They looked like teenage girls and boys not so different from me in age, but a vampire's appearance holds little meaning.

The important part is how they are on the inside.

The difficulty lies in how they are on the inside.

Even if they're not five hundred or six hundred years old like Shinobu-chan, I'm sure they've lived much longer than their looks would lead you to imagine.

Afterward, I truly realized that.

Following what Dramaturgie-san told me, the girl in the dissolving dress was High-Waist, and the boy in the bright white tuxedo was Low-Rise; but that distinction didn't seem to be very consequential.

They had successfully taken positions point-reflected from each other with me as the center—I could only see the two of them as forming a single body.

Surrounded by four red eyes.

Trapped by four red eyes.

Caught in the glare of twin vampires from the front and behind.

As if I was rooted to the spot, I couldn't move an inch—I couldn't even tremble in fear.

Although, I'm uncertain exactly how accurate it is to describe the twins as staring or glaring at me.

It seemed like their gaze was actually passing right through me, and they could only see each other.

Only Low-Rise for High-Waist.

Only High-Waist for Low-Rise.

I don't think they could see me—despite being in their line of sight, it felt like I was being completely ignored.

Well, you might say being ignored in that situation would be the best I could hope for, but of course, it didn't last—after that, I got carried off.

All according to plan.(5)

But that's as far as it went according to plan.

[Next Chapter]

Footnotes: (1) The expression used for “happy result” here is 上首尾 (joushubi), which literally means something like “upper, between neck and tail”. (2) Careless (lit. un-vigilant) (無警戒) is pronounced mukeikai, and carefree (lit. jaunty/casual) (��快) is pronounced keikai. (3) Referring to Chiba prefecture in Kanto. “Bloodshot” is 血走っている, pronounced chibashitteiru. (4) A peninsula that makes up much of Chiba. (5) “Plan” means 計画 (keikaku).

#wazamonogatari #tsubasa sleeping #monogatari #translation

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hencoplumbingservices · 6 years ago

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Comprehensive sex education could become state norm

Find out how to get the best plumber in Vancouver Washington

Washington could be on the brink of requiring all school districts to teach comprehensive sexual health education, including lessons on birth control, healthy relationships and consent.

Senate Bill 5395, requested by the Office of Superintendent of Public Instruction, passed by a vote of 28 to 21 late last month in the Senate. It’s currently stuck in the House Education Committee, The Stranger reported last week. Rep. Sharon Tomiko Santos, D-Seattle and chair of the House Education Committee, has not scheduled the bill for a vote on the floor. The cutoff to do so is Wednesday.

Proponents of the bill say it could help turn the tide of sexual assault rates among Washington teenagers, citing research that suggests students who have access to comprehensive sexual health education are healthier and less likely to be sexually assaulted than their peers who don’t.

Opponents, including Vancouver’s Rep. Vicki Kraft, a Republican, say the bill undercuts family values, and that conversations about reproductive health should happen in the home.

The bill, if approved, would phase in required sexual health education requirements for all grades through Sept. 1, 2021.

Current mandates limited

Current law mandates only that schools offer lessons on HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted disease prevention from fifth grade onward. But schools can choose to provide more comprehensive sex education. If they do, existing law requires that the information must be age-appropriate, medically accurate and appropriate for students regardless of gender, race, disability or sexual orientation. Lessons must also include information about abstinence and other forms of contraception.

If SB 5395 passes, families will still have the opportunity to opt their children out of sexual health lessons.

The bill as proposed would require that consent be a cornerstone of whatever curriculum a school district adopts. Primary-aged students, for example, may talk about asking a friend before hugging them and how to communicate with friends in a healthy way. By fifth grade, students should be able to define sexual abuse, and by eighth grade on, define sexual consent and how to communicate consent to potential partners.

Superintendent of Public Instruction Chris Reykdal, a Democrat, pointed to Healthy Youth Survey data that suggest a significant number of Washington students have been sexually assaulted before they graduate.

In Washington, 31.4 percent of high school seniors reported that they had seen someone pressure someone else into unwanted physical contact, including sex. About 25.2 percent of students reported they’d been forced into unwanted physical contact. Clark County students reported similar numbers; 29.2 percent of students reported they had witnessed unwanted physical contact and 25.1 percent said they had experienced it.

“We are fighting what I consider to be one of the most profound epidemics of our current time,” Reykdal told the Senate Early Learning and K-12 Education Committee last month.

Better outcomes cited

A substantial body of research suggests that students who have access to comprehensive sexual health education experience better health outcomes than their peers who don’t. According to a 2016 report in the Journal of Adolescent Health, comprehensive sex education can reduce the rates of sexually risky behaviors, improve reproductive health outcomes, increase condom and contraceptive use and decrease pregnancy rates.

Researchers from Columbia University also reported that students who received sex education that included lessons on consent were less likely to be sexually assaulted in college.

“The research says if sex ed is going to be effective, it needs to be comprehensive, fact-based, evidence-informed,” said Laurie Dils, supervisor of OSPI’s sexual health education program.

Yet only 24 states plus the District of Columbia require that schools teach sexual health education, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a research and policy organization focused on sexual and reproductive health rights. Some have specific riders on those requirements, like Tennessee, which only requires sex education of the pregnancy rate for girls ages 15 to 17 crests 19.5 percent.

Opposition from Kraft

Kraft has been among the most outspoken opponents of the bill from the beginning, even testifying against the bill in a Senate committee hearing. She said parents oppose the legislation because they feel they are losing control over what is taught to their children. She also said the curriculum is too graphic for young children, and raised concerns about gender identity lessons that are included in the Washington state standards.

“The parents are feeling like they are being taken out of the situation with all this,” Kraft said. “They should be the ones that hold control of values.”

But Dils said most curricula encourage students to go home and talk to their parents about what their own unique values are; professional development offered to sex ed teachers encourages this, too. If a child asks, for example, how old someone needs to be to start having sex, teachers could say there are many opinions on the matter and encourage the student to talk to their own parents.

“Really, there’s a strong commitment to sending kids home to talk to families,” she said. “Teachers should not be sharing their own values.”

As for Kraft’s fear that state standards contain “transgender promotion at very young ages,” Dils said that’s not true. Kindergartners may have conversations about whether it’s OK for boys to wear pink or girls to play football, for example, but there’s no so-called promotion of adopting a certain gender identity.

“Unless there’s a transgender kid in a kindergarten classroom, we would not expect conversations about gender identity at kindergarten,” Dils said. “It would be outside the norm, and it’s certainly not a recommendation.

“There’s nothing that promotes anything other than empathy, respect, kindness and understanding.”

Columbian reporter Jake Thomas contributed to this report.

[Read More …]

Find out how to get the best Vancouver Washington plumber

#Plumber #Plumbing Contractor

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theliberaltony · 6 years ago

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

As Georgia’s secretary of state, Republican Brian Kemp became known for investigating a nonprofit group that made a major voter-registration push focused on registering the state’s large and growing non-white population. He also removed more than 1 million names from the state’s voter rolls. In both cases, Kemp argued that he was trying to do whatever possible to prevent voter fraud. But his moves added complexity to the voting process in Georgia while also potentially benefiting his political party, since non-white voters in Georgia overwhelmingly back Democrats.

Seeking a promotion to governor this year, Kemp distinguished himself from the other candidates in a crowded Republican primary field in part with two signature ads. In one, to show his support for the Second Amendment, Kemp holds a gun in his lap, pointing it at a teenage boy who wants to ask one of Kemp’s daughters on a date. In another, he suggests he might use his truck to pick up and deport illegal immigrants. Kemp later cast himself as a “politically incorrect conservative.”

At least one other politically incorrect conservative liked what he saw. The primary went to a runoff, and ahead of it, President Trump sent out a tweet endorsing Kemp. The secretary of state proudly touted that backing in the final days of the campaign and credited Trump with his eventual victory.

Republican gubernatorial candidates Ron DeSantis in Florida and Kris Kobach in Kansas have similar stories: Both had at least dabbled1 in Trump-style politics before running for governor, moved further in that direction to win GOP primaries this year, and were eventually endorsed by the president over more establishment opponents, which helped lift them to victories.

All three are now in close races. They could lose in November — in part because of a backlash to their Trumpish approaches.

Trump endorsed other gubernatorial candidates, but in DeSantis, Kemp and Kobach, we get, I think, the purest tests of how Trump-style politics is faring at the state level. In 2016, Trump won the GOP presidential primary as a different kind of Republican, with racial rhetoric and policies that appealed to white people wary of the country’s growing racial diversity. But he won the general election because voters largely treated him like any other Republican. As John McCain and Mitt Romney did, Trump carried the white vote by double digits and won about 90 percent of the Republican vote. At the same time, neither black nor Latino voters turned out in unusually large numbers to cast ballots against him — he didn’t do substantially worse among those groups than the two previous GOP presidential candidates.

Taking that same path to victory in this year’s general election is looking fairly complicated for DeSantis, Kemp and Kobach.

Let’s start with Kobach in Kansas. The state’s electorate is more than 80 percent white, so the racial dynamics are less relevant here. Kansas is far more Republican-leaning than Florida or Georgia, so the GOP nominee for governor probably should be safe, even in a Democratic wave election.

But Kobach has a big problem: Unlike what happened with Trump nationally, Republicans in Kansas aren’t lining up en masse behind him. Kobach is controversial, because he has been one of the leading figures in Republican efforts, in Kansas and nationally, to limit illegal immigration and impose additional requirements on people before they can vote. A bloc of Kansas Republicans has said he’s too divisive to lead their state and is trying to stop him.2 About two dozen current or former GOP state legislators, a former Republican U.S. senator and two former Republican governors have endorsed Democratic gubernatorial candidate Laura Kelly, a state senator. FiveThirtyEight’s governors forecast shows Kobach as a 2 in 3 favorite3 — pretty underwhelming odds for a Republican in a ruby-red state.

That Kelly could win in Kansas is not as shocking as it might seem. Americans vote along party lines much less at the state level than they do in congressional elections, which helps explain why the Democrats have a slight chance of winning the gubernatorial contest in conservative Oklahoma and the Republicans are big favorites in the blue states of Maryland and Massachusetts.

It’s possible that gubernatorial candidates in 2018 will have a harder time executing the Trump playbook simply because partisanship is weaker at the state level.

Republican partisanship in Kansas in particular also has another problem: Sam Brownback. And that has nothing to do with the president or Trump-style tactics. Brownback served as Kansas’s governor from 2011 until earlier this year, when he stepped down to take a post in the Trump administration. Brownback’s almost total embrace of Republican orthodoxy on cutting taxes and spending4 left the state’s schools with far less funding than even some Republican lawmakers and voters wanted. Brownback was one of the most unpopular governors in the country by the time he left office — and Kelly and Democrats are linking Kobach with the former governor.

Kobach’s response to the closeness of the race has been to double down on Trumpism. Earlier this month, Trump flew to Topeka for a rally in support of Kobach, with the Kansas Republican promising to “do for Kansas what President Trump has done for America.” We’ll have to wait to see whether that gambit works.

In Florida, DeSantis has taken a more traditional approach: rally the base for the primary and then appeal to the center in the general.

During the primary, DeSantis, who served in Congress from 2013 until stepping down in September to focus on his gubernatorial campaign, employed a strategy of showing as much fealty to the president as possible. On Capitol Hill, he pushed a bill that would have stripped funding from special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation of Trump and potential ties to Russian election interference and aggressively highlighted his opposition to so-called sanctuary cities. One of DeSantis’s campaign ads featured he and his daughter playing with blocks while DeSantis’s wife explained that the candidate was teaching the girl how to build Trump’s border wall.

After the primary, however, DeSantis abandoned this Trump-centric approach and took steps that could appeal to more moderate voters. He tapped a Cuban-American woman, state Rep. Jeanette Nuñez, as his running mate. He cast himself as a defender of Florida’s business community against his Democratic opponent, Andrew Gillum, who has proposed raising the state’s corporate tax rate. DeSantis’s TV ads are now largely focused on attacking Gillum’s record as mayor of Tallahassee; they mostly don’t mention the president.

How’s the Trump playbook going for him?

Republicans in Florida have embraced DeSantis: He is getting around 90 percent of the GOP vote in polls, and there is no sign of the kind of resistance among Republican elites that Kobach faces.

DeSantis is also winning among Florida’s white voters, but he’s probably not far enough ahead of Gillum among that group to get elected (Trump won Florida’s white voters by more than 30 percentage points). DeSantis may be hoping that an appearance by Trump at a rally with him later this month will boost his standing among white, culturally conservative voters (even though it could hurt him with millennials and minorities). I interpret this as a move of some desperation by DeSantis, since he was trying to move past this impression that he is a mini-Trump.

DeSantis also has a potential problem with the third part of Trump’s winning general-election formula: avoiding a large increase in minority voters who overwhelmingly oppose him.

Gillum, who is black, has said that he will win in part by boosting turnout among black, Latino and young voters. And DeSantis’s embrace of Trump and some of the president’s more controversial allies, which may have been necessary for DeSantis to win the primary, could help Gillum drive up minority turnout by casting his opponent as racially intolerant. A day after winning the GOP primary, DeSantis said in a Fox News interview that “the last thing we need to do is to monkey this up by trying to embrace a socialist agenda with huge tax increases and bankrupting the state.” I’m not sure whether DeSantis meant this to be a racial comment, using the word “monkey” in his campaign against a black candidate. If so, it also did not fit with DeSantis’s strategy of moving past Trump-style tactics in the general election.

Gillum’s allies seized on the remark, saying that it was clearly racist. And it was difficult for DeSantis to easily rebut this charge, because of his alliances with people who at times use racial and at times racist language, including the president. DeSantis recently distanced himself from a one-time supporter and major donor who in a tweet criticizing former President Obama wrote, “FUCK THE MUSLIM NIGGER.” A recent poll showed DeSantis getting 1 percent of the black vote in Florida — even less than the very small levels of support Republicans usually get in the state.

DeSantis’s challenges are exacerbated by the fact that, unlike Georgia or Kansas, Florida is a true swing state. So even if he had run a perfect campaign, DeSantis could end up losing the gubernatorial contest simply because he is running in a more Democratic-leaning year than Trump did. Gillum is a 4 in 5 favorite, according to FiveThirtyEight’s forecast.

In Georgia, Kemp also has to be wary of a wave of anti-racist voters rejecting him. Like DeSantis, he has generally sought to move to the center in the general election. His TV ads are now about his career in construction before he entered politics and his pledge to make Georgia the best state in the U.S. for small businesses. He isn’t pointing guns at teenagers anymore.

I don’t want to overstate Kemp’s shift. His Democratic opponent, Stacey Abrams, favors allowing undocumented immigrants brought to the U.S. as children to be granted college scholarships through a state-funded program. Kemp is attacking her for this stance, arguing that the policy would bankrupt the program. It almost certainly would not, but Kemp’s attack essentially positions Abrams as in favor of giving more state money to Latino kids. Trump has not campaigned with Kemp in the general election, but Donald Trump Jr. has.

Kemp, like DeSantis, is facing a racial problem from his past. As secretary of state, Kemp implemented a program that flags voter registration applications if the name differs in any way from Social Security or driver license records. The Associated Press reported this month that the registrations of 53,000 Georgians have been put on hold under this program. Of that group, about 70 percent are black.

As Kemp has noted, the 53,000 people can vote on Election Day if they bring identification to the polls that matches what it is on the voter registration application. But Georgia voting-rights advocates had long warned that such a program might make it harder for some people to vote. Whether that was Kemp’s goal at the time this policy was implemented or not, I doubt that he wanted this controversy to erupt now. Abrams has seized on the controversy, arguing that it is the latest example of Kemp resorting to “voter suppression.” And Abrams has connected this most recent debate over voter records to Kemp’s aggressive scrutiny of the liberal group trying to register voters, which was run by Abrams.

The controversy has been extensively covered on local news in Atlanta and nationally. Being cast as racist on the eve of the election is potentially a huge problem for Kemp. Polls suggest that Kemp is getting 90 percent of the Republican vote and has a huge lead with white voters. But Abrams is only a 4 in 9 underdog. And she can probably win if two things happen: 1) turnout is high among black people, white liberals and younger voters and 2) some moderate, white voters — particularly women who are turned off by Trump and associate Kemp with him — either don’t vote or back Abrams. That is an entirely realistic scenario.

If only because of the conservative leans of their states, Kemp and Kobach are still slight favorites, while DeSantis is trailing in Florida. But all three of these men could lose — and that’s an illustration of the challenges of Trump-style politics. The president himself won a somewhat fluky victory that probably had a lot to do with Hillary Clinton and James Comey. It’s not clear he can win in 2020. I wrote last year about how Kentucky’s Republican governor, Matt Bevin, was borrowing from Trump’s playbook — attacking the media constantly, for example — but had been more effective than the president in executing his agenda. But Bevin recently pushed through changes to the state’s pension program for teachers that they largely opposed. Then he attacked educators for protesting the move, something Trump might have done. He is now very unpopular and could lose next year’s gubernatorial election in deep-red Kentucky.

Trump himself and some of the white identity politics he and other Republicans are increasingly advancing may be electoral winners now and in the future. Or that all could be something that worked only on one random day in November 2016. The results this November in Florida, Georgia and Kansas will give us a first glimpse of the answer.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Perry Bacon Jr.

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