#UNT Union

[dangakkisland]

Chapter 3 (trial) + Chapter 4 most of the daily life

Brazilian economy is in shambles..One battery for my mouse was 40$..With a discount This time I have video! from Bandicam + Bandicut you all will finally see the UI, I think that's what is called! Right when I finally get the pictures (My game stopped when I finished recording..I had to start over), it has more content than it would normally have

As I said after that if it glitched I didn't save it because I was confident of my abilities and didn't expect the game to crash so early without warning, as you can notice I put the audio in Japanese because my mind would get into a knot because of the English audio and sometimes it doesn't match The trial was pretty much the same I couldn't exactly open the bandicam for screenshots so I went without it for the entire trial, the noticeable thing about it was ''Hi-fuck'' and ''Tak-unt'' both nicknames from Shou (It would be Taka who gave birth but being honest YOU want to call him that? in English? I don't think so)

Union <3

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this one, no references but the chapter opens up to Hiro saying ''gado'' (Cow or person who lets themselves be stepped on for someone they love) there being nothing coming out of this title is just balanced

And Kirigiri saying that one Naruto meme (it is not the only one with super however that's the one that is the first on the search bar and one that I remember vividly, plus is from voice makers the one who invented the naruto meme of ''Flexiable Heterosexual'') ''You're a man, let it go'' ''What do you think men are made of?''

''I'm the boss, I do what I want...PAIN DIED LET IT GO!'' ''I don't care'' ''LET IT GO!''

The teachers' room also gave me abnormal amounts of money because of Tim Burton...I hope he has the right reason to give me +20 coins

Ah yes the blackboards that changed the whole trajectory of veiled hope I remember well...Nice to see them translated, I couldn't have the whole blackboard for some reason, I was very close to it for whatever circumstance

The screenshot speaks for itself: Monokuma is that one Keanu Reaves emote (Admitted, real not fake, not a bit, Top 10 characters who despair for ass, I don't know how to spell the actor's name)

''I was at the bathhouse, what more you would want to know? My zodiac star signs?'' - Zodiacs are very popular, or it may be Saint Seiya fever that never died in the 90s and keeps being Brazilians favorite Shounen besides Dragon Ball, in the 2010s I met it via Rebosteio, a channel not for kids who did mostly edgy humor that I was fond off at the time most of the episodes are blocked out of the earth...

And there is finally a thing I can explain, Woodpecker reference! (I'm not sorry for bringing the Woodpecker movie curse) ''Minha nossa nossa nossa'' Video posted on youtube on 1st of April 2014 by TVMAROTO

Is that I would say if I didn't look closer now and see that the ''Nossas'' are not together, its fine we can dream... and she tries to do the static of every robber in brazil too, if I saw her on Rio de Janeiros streets (I don't live there) I would run or give up my life on sight

''Bow, it is your chance to get this over big guy Makoto! Bow and beg like you never did in your life''-Hiro

Ending this big post by saying ladies and gentlemen plus yer majesties oh that's the name of it:

''The most despairful, the most evil, monstrous tragedy of humanity'

[unfug-bilder]

Wer hier länger mitliest weiß, dass ich weder zu den Freunden der Union noch besonders des Herrn Kretschmer zähle.

Das hier nenne ich "krank melden mit Ansage". Wer mag, kann über die "Gründe" und zwangsläufigen Folgen dieses Handelns selbst nachdenken und seine Schlüsse daraus ziehen.

Eine Information, die vielleicht nicht allen sofort einfällt, möchte ich noch anfügen:

Das Land Sachsen bekommt für jede/n MUF erhebliche Summen Geldes vom Bund und ist zu bestimmten Dingen verpflichtet. Aber davon interessiert Kretschmer nur das Geld.

[b2bcybersecurity]

Kaspersky wirkt bei INTERPOL Operation mit

Im Rahmen der Operation „Africa Cyber Surge II“ unterstützte Kaspersky INTERPOL mit der Bereitstellung von Threat-Intelligence-Daten. Dadurch konnten die Ermittler, kompromittierte Infrastrukturen identifizieren und mutmaßliche Cyberkriminelle in Afrika ergreifen. Im Zuge dieser Operation wurden 14 Täter verhaftet und eine Netzwerkinfrastruktur entdeckt, mit der finanzielle Verluste von mehr als 40 Millionen US-Dollar in Verbindung gebracht werden. Operation erstreckte sich auf 25 afrikanische Länder Ziel der Operation „Africa Cyber Surge“ ist die Bekämpfung der Cyberkriminalität und der Schutz der Bevölkerung in der Region. In der ersten Phase der Operation „Africa Cyber Surge“, an der auch Kaspersky beteiligt war, wurden im Zeitraum Juli bis November 2022 eine Reihe von operativen und investigativen Maßnahmen gegen Cyberkriminelle in Afrika durchgeführt. Im April 2023 erfolgte der Auftakt zur Operation „Africa Cyber Surge II“, die sich in einem Zeitraum von vier Monaten über 25 afrikanische Länder erstreckte. Der Einsatz wurde vom Cybercrime Directorate von INTERPOL unter der Schirmherrschaft des INTERPOL Africa Cybercrime Operations Desks und dem INTERPOL-Unterstützungsprogramm für die Afrikanische Union (ISPA) in Verbindung mit AFRIPOL durchgeführt. Weitere unterstützende Einrichtungen waren das britische Foreign Commonwealth & Development Office, das Deutsche Auswärtige Amt und der Europarat. Bessere Kooperation mit afrikanischen Behörden In Zusammenarbeit mit weiteren privatwirtschaftlichen Partnern von INTERPOL hat Kaspersky der internationalen Organisation sogenannte Indicators of Compromise (IoC) zur Verfügung gestellt. Dazu gehörten unter anderem schädliche Command-and-Control-Server, Phishing-Links und -Domains sowie Scam-IPs. Dadurch konnte INTERPOL die Zusammenarbeit zwischen den afrikanischen Strafverfolgungsbehörden verbessern, um Cyberkriminelle, die im Verdacht stehen, Cybererpressung, Phishing, Kompromittierung von Geschäfts-E-Mails und Online-Betrug zu begehen, aufzuspüren und festzunehmen. „Die Operation Africa Cyber Surge II hat zu einer Stärkung der Dienststellen, die sich mit Cyberkriminalität beschäftigen, in den Mitgliedsländern sowie zur Festigung von Partnerschaften mit wichtigen Akteuren, wie Computer Emergency Response Teams und Internet Service Providern, geführt“, so Jürgen Stock, Generalsekretär von INTERPOL. „Dies wird weiter dazu beitragen, die weltweiten Auswirkungen von Cyberkriminalität zu verringern und Gemeinschaften in der Region zu schützen.“ Verstärkung der Cybersicherheit in Afrika „Für unsere Mission, eine sichere digitale Welt aufzubauen, ist eine multilaterale Zusammenarbeit, die den privaten Sektor, internationale Strafverfolgungsbehörden und nationale Behörden einbezieht, von größter Bedeutung“, ergänzt Yuliya Shlychkova, Public Affairs Director bei Kaspersky. „Nur wenn wir die Vorteile einer effektiven öffentlich-privaten Partnerschaft ausschöpfen, können wir eine weitere Stärkung der Cybersicherheitsbranche in der afrikanischen Region vorantreiben und sicherstellen, dass Länder in Afrika ihr herausragendes Potenzial verwirklichen können – und zwar ohne durch Cyberkriminalität darin behindert zu werden.“ „Da digitale Systeme, Informations- und Kommunikationstechnologien sowie Künstliche Intelligenz immer mehr an Bedeutung gewinnen, ist es äußerst wichtig, dass öffentliche und private Akteure Hand in Hand arbeiten, um Cyberkriminelle davon abzuhalten, diese Technologien zu missbrauchen“, kommentiert der amtierende Exekutivdirektor von AFRIPOL, Botschafter Jalel Chelba. „Koordinierte Operationen wie Cyber Surge sind notwendig, um cyberkriminelle Netzwerke zu zerschlagen und individuelle, organisatorische und gesellschaftsweite Schutzniveaus aufzubauen.“ Kaspersky arbeitet seit 2019 mit INTERPOL zusammen Der Datenaustausch zwischen Kaspersky und INTERPOL ist Teil eines fünfjährigen Kooperationsabkommens, das beide Parteien im Jahr 2019 unterzeichnet haben. Dieses umfasst auch personelle Unterstützung und Schulungen für die Strafverfolgungsbehörde. Seit der Unterzeichnung des Dokuments haben Kaspersky und INTERPOL gemeinsam Operationen zur Bekämpfung von Cyberkriminalität und Aufklärungsprojekte zur Sensibilisierung der Bevölkerung für moderne Cyberrisiken durchgeführt.     Passende Artikel zum Thema Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

[world-of-news]

Ein Kartell weltweit.

[agilley-his112]

Epilogue (a Generic Update)

31 November, 1973 So there have been some developments in some of the places that I’ve been, and almost all of them have been bad. One bit of good that I’m saving for the end, though, so we’ve got that, at least. Here goes:

The situation in Nyasaland (now Malawi) is at least mostly okay. The state of emergency continue for a while, foreign troops remained until they were needed elsewhere, and the government definitely wasn’t okay. A bunch of ministers were fired, some more resigned, some of those immediately un-resigned, the state remained in flux for a while, but things seem to have mostly stabilized. Malawi has a constitution and a stable, if not very progressive, government.

Namibia is trying its best. They aren’t de facto under South Africa’s thumb anymore, which is an improvement, but the bodies will never come back to life (I hope…) and the Old Location is still abandoned. As is most of the New Location. People just don’t seem to want anything to do with the site, even if it is a suburb of the capital.

Things in Southern Rhodesia (everyone just calls it Rhodesia now) went almost worse than I’d feared. They made a bid for independence that was resolutely rejected by almost the whole world, and promptly buckled down for what’s shaping up to be a bloody war. Rhodesia is essentially a pariah state, but they still get some engagement and even aid from good ol’ South Africa and, of course, the Soviet Union (“Anything to spite the West!” –The Soviet Foreign Ministry, probably). Everybody’s so worried about that little corner of Southeast Asia that they seem to have mostly forgotten about this corner of Southern Africa, though. So it goes.

Lesotho, my poor lads, went south pretty quick. The prime minister ousted the president. A general ousted the prime minister. Political activity was promptly banned. Sporadic militancy has been the name of the game for a while. This is all within just a few years of those elections, mind you. They did not, it seems, hold it.

The bit of good news (finally) is that the United Nations has actually taken a stand against Apartheid! South Africa has been publicly shamed for it all along—it was never an internationally popular policy—but just yesterday (the thing that spurred this post so long after the fact), the UN adopted a formal resolution against it. The International Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apartheid. Adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations on 30 November 1973.

Here’s a quick excerpt:

                “The States Parties to the present Convention declare that apartheid Is a crime against humanity and that inhuman acts resulting from … apartheid and similar policies … of racial segregation and discrimination … are crimes violating the principles of international law”

Why yes, that is quick by UN standards. And you know what? I’ll take it. The UN formally declaring Apartheid a crime against humanity is exactly the win that I needed right now. I guess that’ll have to be good enough for now.

UN. (1973, November 30). International Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apartheid. Adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations on 30 November 1973. United Nations. https://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/UNTS/Volume%201015/volume-1015-I-14861-English.pdf

BBC. (2022, November 4). Lesotho Profile – Timeline. BBC. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-13729501

McCracken, J. (2003). 'Setting the Record Straight'? Transition in Colonial Malawi, Journal of Southern African Studies, Vol. 29, No. 3.

[moralesispunk]

The Fire Between Us

Chapter One - Ignite

[Masterlist] [Chapter Two]

Din Djarin x Female Mandalorian Reader (blank slate reader - mentioned to use the surname of the Clan - Mardyn - as explained in fic)

Summary: The two decades long rivalry between you and Din finally comes to blow

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Din and reader “hate” each other, parental death, mention of alcohol, reader has scars from battles but nothing descriptive

Read on AO3 here!

Mando'a translation at end of fic!

It is not unusual - nor unexpected - for deep rooted rivalries to break out in a Covert that is made up of such strong and fearsome warriors as the Mandalorians. It is especially not surprising when such rivalries break out between the two ade who, not by their own volition, share the place as the most highly regarded ade of their generation.

Such rivalries have emerged in every Covert since the very first on Mandalore and they have come to be expected within each new generation. Despite this, no-one has seen - or even heard of - a rivalry that is as strong or long-standing as the one between two Foundlings of the Nevarro Covert that was ignited nearly two decades ago.

The first of the Foundlings, a girl, was brought into the Nevarro Covert when she was but three years old. After raiders ravaged through her town and murdered her parents along with every other villager she was found, having spent a night crying alone in the center of her flattened village, by Mandalorians who arrived too late to save anyone else. She was quickly taken into the Covert and under the care of the most recent union between Mandalorians. As the adopted Foundling of Clan Mardyn, she soon became a Mandalorian in every way that mattered; a fearless warrior committed to The Way.

The second of the Foundlings, a boy, was taken in by the Covert five years later. He had already celebrated his tenth birthday by the time he was saved after his parent’s suffered a similar fate to that of the girl’s but his induction hadn’t been quite as easy. He was only a few years away from being an adult by Mandalorian standards and still held attachment to his life, and his family, before. He was never adopted by particular Mandalorians, never taking another’s Clan name, but he was instead taken into the care of the Covert as a whole.

*****

The relationship between yourself and Din Djarin hadn’t started with as strong a rivalry as the one that has become infamous among Mandalorians today; in fact, the first time you had met Din you had felt sorry for the boy.

It had been the early hours of the morning, well past your bedtime, but with both of your parents gone from the Covert you could never sleep well. You suppose, looking back on it, that it had been because of what had happened with your birth parents; your brain unable to silence the thousands of nightmares at losing two more parents long enough to sleep. It’s why you had been wide awake and silently playing on the floor by the doorway, stealing the light from the candles in the hall that was spilling under the curtain just enough for you to make out the toys your father had carved for you. There was a box full of wooden figures, of Mandalorians and their enemies, and you had no doubt been acting out one of the many battles you imagined when you had heard their return.

Usually you would have quietly tidied the toys as soon as the cheers of the warriors echoed around the tunnels, keeping only the ones that were painted to match your parents armor out and tucked under your arm as you climbed carefully back into bed so as not to wake your still sleeping brother, Adrean. He didn't seem to have any trouble sleeping when your parents were gone from the Covert; he was adopted a year after you but unable to remember anything before his life in the Covert. Your parent’s would come back in, talking loudly about “what well behaved ade we have, fast asleep while we are gone” before your father would perch on the end of your bed and tickle your feet until you were unable to keep the charade up any longer, waking your brother and jumping into your father’s arms.

This time, however, you were intrigued by the hushed whispers that were only just loud enough for you to hear above their boots hitting the ground, their bodys casting shadows across the candlelight. You waited until the last one had gone past, peeking your head out of the curtain to make sure there were no more to come, before you followed them at a distance. They were too distracted by their conversation to notice you following at the back, their guards down now they were home and not on the look-out for any threat following behind, and so you easily slipped into the hall after them, hiding behind a chair and waiting until they had all gathered in a circle.

You told yourself that you would stay only long enough to make sure your parents were home safe, scanning across the armor-clad bodies that were sporting new and old scratches until you finally found the two blue helmets. In your excitement at their safe arrival home your footing slipped, your hands using the chair to steady yourself but instead knocking it over with a crash.

The circle of helmets whipped around, two dozen visors staring back at you, but while they watched you carefully you found a gap in their circle and noticed the smaller body between them. There was a young boy, maybe a year or two older than you, in the middle of their huddle, his shoulders shaking and red hood hiding most of his face as the Armorer knelt before him and they two remained the only ones not to turn towards you.

“Ad’ika,” your father called, walking over and turning your attention to him as he lifted you onto his hip, the conversation continuing between the rest of the adults, “Tion'jor cuyir gar nu o'r haav?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against the cold armor on his shoulder and his hand came to rest on the bottom of your back.

No matter how interested you were in the young boy, with your father’s presence so close and knowing he and your mother were well, the tiredness at staying up so late for your parents return began to settle in and your eyes struggled to stay open.

“We’re home safe, you can sleep now,” he spoke gently in your ear and you nodded against him, the gentle jostle from his footsteps as he carried you out already lulling you closer to sleep.

When you forced your eyes open once more, looking back over his shoulder, you noticed that the boy had looked up now and his dark brown eyes were red and glassy. Even then, being so young, you felt your heart ache for the sadness in his eyes.

“He looks upset, buir,” you yawned.

Your father rubbed up and down your back and as you waved tiredly over his shoulder towards the child the sadness that had been in his eyes seemed to disappear for a moment, his own hand raising slightly to wave back just before you rounded the corner out of sight.

“Yes, but we’ll take care of him.”

You didn’t see the new addition to the Covert for another week no matter how many times you tried to sneak out of lessons to find him and you began to wonder whether the child had left to stay somewhere else. It had only happened once before; a child was saved by Manalorians after he was orphaned but then, a week later, his uncle and cousins arrived after having survived the battle that took his parent’s lives and took the child home with them.

Just when you began to think the same fate had occurred, that the boy had found a surviving family, the Armorer’s shadow cast over the doorway to one of your lessons and she stood with her hands on the small boy’s shoulders. She introduced him as Din Djarin, asking the ade to welcome him to the lessons.

He had been quiet those first few days, barely a word uttered as the older Mandalorians taught their lessons. He was, of course, starting well behind the rest of the ade who sat with their legs crossed while listening to the carefully carved lessons intended to mold the future of the Covert. It was understandable why he would be so shy, especially he was already being introduced to the intense lessons that occurred the closer he came to his verd'goten.

It wouldn’t have been fair for you to start a rivalry with him so soon, especially when there were so many other children who had the experience to challenge you, but as he began to open up and prove himself you let yourself test his skills more.

While it had always been children born to Mandalorian parents who had ranked highest in their lessons you had broken that cycle. Even back then you had taken much pride in the fact that you were highly regarded in every aspect of your education, ticking off each box of what a Mandalorian should be, and this included every aspect of your physical training. You could take apart any kind of weapon and put it back together again faster than some of the adults, you had unnervingly good aim, and you were a squarely matched opponent even against those who were a few years older than you. It was a fact that made both you and your parents proud and you had remained the only ade not born to Mandalorian parents to rank so high… until Din Djarin.

While he had not taken a growth spurt in the first few years after he arrived, and, even beneath his armor that he donned a few years before you did, you were still able to look him directly in the eye, he had proved himself in many other ways. Din was able to show off his skills in languages and tactics while learning how to fight against opponents twice his size. He quickly figured out how to find their weakness and use it against them, turning him into a quick-thinking fighter. It meant that when he finally took his growth spurt, shooting past you to stand at least a helmet height taller and easily twice as wide, he became unbeatable; as strong as he was smart.

This was much to the delight of the Armorer - having a foundling as strong, smart and committed to The Way as Din Djarin. Everyone else in the covert agreed... except for you.

Along with learning how to become the perfect warrior, Din had also learned how to push your buttons. You were the Mandalorian with whom he could test himself the most, a Foundling who was as strong and smart as he, but when he started winning your battles more and more he also started hanging it over your head. While he had begun to grow modest around other Mandalorians, offering a head nod and nothing more than a thanks when they praised him, this courtesy did not extend to you. Whenever the Armorer had tasked him with something particularly dangerous or he claimed a bounty of notable importance, Din would seek you out to tell you about it for himself. He would lean against whatever wall or archway was nearest, arms crossed and body relaxed as he repeated word for word the praise the Armorer had given him until your whole body shook with annoyance and he forced you to storm out. On more than one occasion he had angered you so much that you marched out of your own room, leaving him alone and laughing as you found some cold water to splash beneath your armor to cool your heated skin.

While you had found the rivalry entertaining as a child, you even found you could have called him a friend, you now found it - and Din along with it - insufferable. Maybe you were being childish - a sore loser - but whenever he walked into a room you found your body having a visceral reaction, your eyes rolling under your helmet as you walked off in the other direction.

A rivalry that had been based on rankings within your education had turned into a personal rivalry based on everything from who could reload and fire a weapon fastest to who was ahead in the unspoken bounty hunter score count - and as of his return to the Covert this morning it was Din… by one.

You had done your best to avoid him so far, word of his arrival sending you back to your room where you brought weapons from the armory to clean diligently for hours. Your mother and father both sat with you at one point, their voices getting lost in the back of the throat after one too many mentions of Din’s name had you throwing a glare in their direction and they swiftly turned their attention to the hunt that was going on today.

There was, of course, only so long you could avoid Din. While usually you could have gone a few days without having to come face-to-face with him, and by then so much time had passed his words didn’t sting as much, tonight there was a celebration for the newest ad to the Covert. You had tried to feign an illness, a sudden sore head after staring at so many weapons your eyes began to tire, but your father gave you a look that was very much non-negotiable; an “I expect to see you there before the toast to the child” said with one look.

You dragged your feet so much while getting ready and taking the longest route there that by the time you arrived the hall was already full. The room that was usually bright with candles and a fire pit was dark, only the blue hue from a carefully lit fire casting across the rows and rows of helmets as you managed to slip into the back.

“You’re late,” a gruff voice came from your side.

You ignored him for now, standing on your toes and scanning across the sea of helmets in search of those that belonged to the Armorer or newest parents. When you came up short you turned smugly to the man by your side.

“Doesn’t look like it,” you baited and his head shook.

Your brother, Adrean, was the only other person in the covert who could challenge Din Djarin for the amount of grief he gave you. He stared back at you now and you could practically see the way he would stick his tongue out at you when your family were alone, helmets gone and his emotions clear across his face as he tried to wind you up.

Your father raised his hand before Adrean could answer, hitting the front of his chest plate and forcing your brother’s helmet back to the front.

“You may not be ade anymore but I can still punish you as such,” your father spoke quietly, his helmet still firmly facing the front of the hall.

“Yes, Buir.”

“Sorry, Buir.”

It had been a while since a child had been born to the Covert, at least four years if your memory serves you right, but you could still remember how the evening would go. The Armorer would enter with the child, the parents following, and in front of the whole Covert she would announce the name of the new ad before the clan would cheer for their arrival. This, of course, would usually be followed by the unhappy tears of the child and they would be placed back into a parent’s arms.

There would be another speech later in the night, after everyone held themselves less like a warrior and more like a teenager having drank their first sip of alcohol as Mandalorian supported Mandalorian and the songs of past battles began.

“Did you hear about Djarin?” Adrean bent down, whispering to you.

He hadn’t been in your parents room when you visited earlier and so had missed the glare you gave them when they asked.

“Yes,” you ground your teeth and you heard him whistle under his breath.

“I heard the bounty was for 20,000 credits, does he get double points for that?”

“What?” You turned to face him but when you caught sight of your father’s helmet staring at you, you quickly turned back to the front and lowered your voice. “Double points?”

“Yeah,” Adrean laughed, “for that stupid bounty count you two do… and don’t pretend like you don’t, everyone knows.”

“Everyone?”

“Why do you think Bonnie gave her blaster to Lena last week? She lost it in a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Are we playing the copy-game or are you just repeating everything I say to be annoying?” Adrean asked and you elbowed him in the ribs. “Yes - ouch - a bet. The whole Covert is in on it; we put bets on who will be winning at the end of every month.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, the words lost in the back of your throat as you wondered how long your rivalry with Din had gone so noticed by others.

“Who’s your money on?” You finally asked.

Adrean laughed, heads turning back to stare at you both as he got another elbow in the ribs from your father.

“Now, sister, I would never bet against you.”

You smiled smugly under your helmet, nodding once.

Before another chance arose for the pair of you to test your father’s patience, the large door behind you opened and light from the tunnel began to spill in. You could only just make out the four shadows as you stood on your toes, trying to look above the shoulders and helmets as the Armorer and newest family walked down the aisle.

It was eerily quiet and the only sound was their heavy boots thumping against the ground with each step they took to the front of the room. For a moment you lost them over the rows and you stood higher on your toes, moving your head side to side to try and catch a glimpse, but instead of the new parents your eyes landed on the one person you were avoiding - Din Djarin.

While every helmet was facing the front, his was even more noticeable as it tilted over his shoulder and was staring directly back at yours. You stopped your weaving, your heels landing back on the ground and waiting for him to turn back to the front but he never did.

The blue light was reflecting across the side of his helmet, his broad frame standing tall amongst the crowd of strong warriors but somehow standing apart. You always felt nerves gathering in the pit of your stomach the very first second you looked at Din; the way he held himself and how the light shone off his armor reminding you of a glass painting in your childhood village.

You can’t really remember it - especially now, two decades later - but it was made in the image of some kind of leader, a king or a warrior perhaps, cut out from brightly coloured glass. It was in the center of your town and once a year the sun would hit it perfectly, casting a brightly colored shadow down the center of the village.

No matter how much Din annoyed you or how many times you rolled your eyes at him, even you could not deny that he was a man born to lead. He tried to wriggle himself free from any instances where the Armorer would drag him to the front of the hall to speak alongside her but as soon as he was up there it was clear - he stood tall and strong, spoke loud and clear, had the whole Covert hanging off every word - that he would be the next leader of this Covert.

That, you wanted to make clear, was not why you were perhaps a little, a tiny bit, jealous of him. You didn’t want to lead, you were never one to stand and give a rousing speech before battle. The reason you were… jealous… was because for some reason the Armorer had decided to give Din every single opportunity to showcase his strength. You were sidelined while he was sent out to deal with local threats to the Covert or whatever other “secret missions” she had him traveling for.

If it wasn’t for that - and the way he loved to hang it over your head - you would respect the man a whole lot more. What made it even worse was you could never get him out of your mind.

Even now, when he had turned back to face the front, you could no longer focus on the short ceremony that was echoing around the room The parents and child were introduced, the Armorer’s voice floating through the hall, but you couldn’t make out a single word as you stared at the back of Din’s helmet.

You were in a haze of obedience as you stood with your body at attention and helmet seemingly facing the front, the perfect illusion of any other Mandalorian in the room who was focused on the Armorer and child, when really you could not drag your eyes or mind from Din.

Soon enough the ceremony was over and the candles were re-lit, the fire in the middle of the hall burning bright with its ambers and reds once more as Adrean groaned obnoxiously while stretching from standing so long.

“I’m going to take your Mother back to our room,” your father said as the neat rows of Mandalorians began to fan out around the room, “the both of you stay for a drink or two.”

“Yes, Buir,” you and Adrean recited in return, your father turning to Adrean.

“Make sure she stays for me.”

“Buir-” You whined but he stopped you with a look and you sighed. “I promise I’ll stay.”

“Good,” you heard the smile in his voice, his hand reaching for your mother’s and placing it at his elbow.

The hall was filled with noise now, conversations flowing around the room as you and Adrean turned on your heels to face the middle. You tried to focus on anything else but once more the glimmer of fire caught on his helmet your eyes darted across the room to Din.

He was surrounded by a horde of Mandalorians and while usually you would have walked over to join them, spending the night trying not to stare at him as the conversation flowed between the group of similarly aged Mandalorians, you instead began to head to the other side of the hall where the parents of the newest ad were.

“Where are you going?” Adrean called as he already started heading towards the group.

“To get a drink, want one?”

He nodded back and before he had turned around you had lost yourself in the crowd, bypassing the table full of jugs of drink to the parents of the newest ad in the corner. The child was soon in your arms - used as an innocent shield between you and Din for now - and you asked the parents questions you had never cared to know the answer to until now.

The more people drank the louder the conversations got, two of the older Mandalorians now leaning against the wall and singing a muddled-up version of an old tale of the first Mandalorians. You were considering making an escape here and now when the Armorer found her way to the middle of the room once more, a silence echoing around as she took her place.

“We welcome a new ad to our Covert today,” she spoke loudly and evenly, holding a hand towards the child in your arms and suddenly all attention was on you. A quick chorus of cheers sounded before she held her hand up to silence them once more. “It is important, in these times, that we continue to grow our Covert and raise strong warriors.”

Even with all helmets turned in your direction, every last one focused on the child in your arms or the parents by your side, you could feel Din’s eyes on you even more than usual. You tried to keep your head steady as your eyes roamed around the room in search of him, eventually finding him standing by Adrean’s side.

His helmet didn't move to give anything away - not like during the ceremony - but you felt it; you felt his eyes on yours beneath the visor and you couldn't find it in you to turn away. He had a way of staring at you with such intensity that a shiver ran up your spine, a warmth crept up your neck to your cheeks, and a swarm of nervous excitement made itself at home in the pit of your stomach.

Once the Armorer had stood down the next, more excitable, Mandalorian approached the couple and you handed the child back before quickly making your way through the crowd to the other end of the hall, all while feeling Din’s eyes remain on you. It was a familiar feeling, like you could pinpoint exactly where his eyes were focused on by the searing warmth in the back of your neck.

As soon as you found your way to the end of the hall you reached for a mug, filling it with whatever dark liquid was in the bowls and lifting your helmet enough to take a generous gulp. The stinging liquid hit the back of your throat and you had almost finished the first mugfull when a call of your name had the drink catching in your throat, a spluttering cough leaving your mouth as the person who called your name - one Paz Vizsla - landed a few heavy blows to your back. You cringed as more helmets around you turned to watch as you caught your breath and you knew Din had watched the whole affair, your shoulders sagging as you turned to face Paz.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you croaked, waving him off, “you just gave me a fright.”

He chuckled deeply, his body relaxing and reaching for his own mug. You stood on your toes while he was distracted pouring the drink and looked over his shoulder to find Din still at the other end of the hall, his body stiff as he looked straight into your visor.

“A wonderful thing isn’t it?”

“Huh-” you followed Paz’s gaze to the new family and nodded, “oh, yeah. Always… nice when a new child is born.”

“Nice?” His tone was teasing - but not, you noticed, in the charming way Din was able to do so. You rolled your eyes at yourself, forcing Din from your mind as you tried to focus on the man in front of you instead. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yes, just… I was in a bit of a rush to get here so I feel a bit all over the place.”

He nodded down at you, choosing to ignore your poor choice of an excuse, before starting a tale of the hunt he had been on today.

His words began to drown out as you found yourself searching for Din once more. When you found him he was at the edge of the hall now, his back resting against the wall and his ankles crossed leisurely in front of him. His helmet bobbed slightly as he spoke, his hands gripping his belt to stop the over-animated movements that usually accompanied him after he had enjoyed a mug - or two - of tihaar. You couldn’t hear him from this far away and with so many conversations filling the gap between but you knew his voice would have changed as soon as the first sip of alcohol had hit his throat; growing raspier and deeper, something akin to giddiness held in his words.

You hated that you knew all this, that you could close your eyes and know exactly what he was doing or how he was standing at any given moment, but he had been the object of your attention since you were eight and he had first arrived at the Covert.

For the first time since you had noticed where he stood at the edge of the hall you noticed who his object of attention was and you fought down the feeling of jealousy that began to spread through your chest when your eyes landed on their helmet.

Kania.

She was the one who most of the men you grew up with were interested in, born to Mandalorian parents but one who often avoided conflict where possible. You had remembered her as an ad; while your elbows and knees were often covered in scrapes and cuts and your hair was loose from how your mother had pulled it from your face that morning - so the boys could not grab it as you practiced combat - her skin was clear of any marks and her blonde hair was still neatly pulled from her face as she watched on with wide, blue eyes that were close to tears.

It’s not to say that you disliked Kania, in fact she was always kind and completed the tasks that most others avoided, but whenever you watched every man’s helmet - including Din’s - turn her way, your chest tightened with a pain you hated to name. Din was but a man and men had needs and wants that you often felt were not you. They respected you and valued you as a warrior who they could trust but attracted to you… you weren’t so sure.

It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does for you hated Din Djarin, he filled you with such a rage that almost every little thing you did was to prove yourself against him - to him - but that feeling was still there and even if you could hide it from everyone else you could not deny it to yourself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Sorry?” Your head whipped around again, Paz still staring down at you as you realized he had been talking to you this whole time. “Oh, sorry I just- it’s really warm in here isn’t it?”

His head tilted down at you, the room noticeably no hotter than it usually was, but you handed him the mug in your hand anyway before he could question you.

“I’m going to step outside for a moment, splash some water on my face, I’ll be right back?”

He nodded slowly and you turned on your heels, your feet already carrying you quickly towards the exit. You were so busy focusing on finding your escape back to your room that you barely noticed the way you knocked against others and caused them to spill their drinks over the rims of their mugs or how Din’s helmet had followed you the whole way, his conversation brought to an abrupt end before following your path out.

The halls were dimly lit at this time of night, only every other candle that was wielded to the wall alight with a flame now that most of the children were in bed. The sounds from the celebration grew quieter and quieter the further you walked, the loud cheers and conversations turning to one constant buzz that had you almost convinced you could safely remove your helmet and let some of the cool air touch your cheeks. You were glad your hands stayed by your side, however, when the echo of following footsteps reached your ears and you stopped walking, turning and squining behind you until another figure began to appear.

You could recognise the shadow and the slow, confident way it moved from a mile off, your whole body tensing before you finally found your voice.

“Following me, Djarin?”

“Running off already, Mardyn?”

You waited until he was beneath the light of the nearest candle before you turned to fully face him. His body was more relaxed than usual after a few drinks, his broad shoulders not held as stiffly as he kept his weight on one foot and stared down at you with a tip of his helmet. The orange light from the candle flickered across his armor, the many bumps and scrapes covering it to show how it had aged along with him.

If you were being honest, the armor was only just enough to protect him. He had been gifted it over a decade ago to replace his first set of armor he received when he reached adulthood at the age of thirteen but, it had become clear, the Armorer had not judged his growth spurt well and he grew another six inches not long after. The rusted chest plate protected his vitals and no more, especially when compared to your armor - as forged by your father - that protected far more of your skin save for the small slither at your side where it had become bent in training the week before. Beneath you had many scars from where the armor did not fully protect and so you could only imagine how many Din had.

He tilted his helmet up for a moment as he nodded towards you and even in the dark hall you noticed an inch of skin on his neck, your whole body freezing as an image of tracing down the slope of his neck to bare his chest came to the front of your mind and you had to shake yourself before he spoke again.

“Were you not enjoying the celebration?” He asked before his voice dipped lower, the rasp that you knew would be there catching on the end of every word as he stepped closer to you. “Or was Paz boring you to tears so you had to make an escape?”

For once you were thankful to hear his voice full of teasing, the reminder of how annoying you found the man able to wipe that thought from your mind. You ignored his questions, stepping into the candlelight as well as you tilted your head up higher to look at him straight in the visor.

“Was Kania’s conversation not good enough for you? Have to follow me back to my room?”

“Oh,” he made a sound that you guessed was a low chuckle as took another step, his chest plate scratching against yours. His fingers took the chin of your helmet in his hold, tilting your head up to face him before he spoke again, “you wish.”

Your breath caught, the image that had flashed through your mind not a moment before still so fresh that you couldn’t stop the way your legs fell weak beneath you. He shook his head and laughed once more, his shoulders caging in as he dipped his head even lower.

“Oh, you do wish that, don’t you.”

“Fuck off, Din,” you said, your voice failing to carry the strength you had hoped it would as it shook slightly.

He said nothing, his body and visor still, but you could feel his eyes run down your body and you couldn’t force any muscle to stop shaking for even a second. Eventually he stepped back, by only half a foot, and dropped his hand from you but you could still feel his eyes staring into your own.

“Maybe an early night is best,” he nodded, his voice almost completely back to normal and snapping you back to reality. “You’re starting to slack a little on the bounty count.”

His voice was laced with a teasing tone that made you clench your fists at your side to stop yourself from throwing a punch at him right here in this tunnel. You watched as his helmet tilted down to your hands before looking back in your eyes.

“You’re only one ahead,” you shot back.

“Keeping count?”

“Like you don’t,” you gritted your teeth. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

He leaned forward, his head dipping down as he spoke quieter - as though you were not alone and he worried someone else would overhear.

“I don’t plan on it.”

A childish groan of annoyance came from the back of your throat and he leaned back. You could tell that he wore a smirk beneath his helmet and before you lost the last piece of resolve that was stopping you from launching yourself at him, you turned on your heels and stormed back down the hall.

“Goodnight,” he called after you and your hands were clenched into such tight fists you could feel your nails almost pierce through your leather gloves as he watched until you had disappeared into the shadows.

You quickly pulled back the curtain that covered the archway into your room, your helmet ripped from your head and thrown onto your bed as you walked straight towards the basin in the corner and began to splash your face with cold water. It dripped down your neck and beneath your tight layers you wore under the armor, the droplets managing to rid your body of some of the warmth that had spread out as soon as you thought of Din.

Your eyes flicked up to the mirror, catching the frown that covered your face - one that was often there whenever you thought too deeply about what these feelings you have for Din really are. You knew, somewhere buried beneath the last bit of pride when it came to him, that only half of the reason he had you so heated was because of hatred, because of rage, annoyance and frustration, but the other half was something far more alarming. The other half was because for every thought you had of wanting to beat Din in this frivolous bounty count game, of wanting to pin him to the ground and prove you were as strong as him, you had ten thoughts of wanting to feel his body pressed up against you when there was no conflict, when the armor was removed and there was no barrier to his touch setting your skin alight.

That half was too terrifying to spend much time thinking of and so as you cupped more water in your hands and splashed it over your face again as you focused on the other half.

The only way to center your thoughts on this was to think of ways to outplay him and so as you removed each piece of armor, placing them in a neat pile at the foot of your bed while climbing under the sheets, you knew that you would have to find a good bounty - one that would earn respect within the guild and one that would annoy Din to no end.

You blew out the candle at the side of your bed, the room covered in darkness save for the sliver of light coming from beneath the curtain that covered your door, and, as the celebration went on at the other end of the tunnels, you spent the rest of the night planning your retort.

*****

Mando’a translations:

Gai bal manda - Mandalorian adoption ceremony

Ad’ika - Little one

Tion'jor cuyir gar nu o'r haav? - Why are you not in bed?

Buir - Father

Verd'goten - traditional right of passage into adulthood

*****

Notes: thank you for reading! This is the first part of my Din fic I have been working on for a while - each chapter should be posted on Sunday nights :) there is a tag list link in my masterlist and in my bio

*****

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09 @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted--ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @bport76 @fangirl-316 @nolanell @agingerindenial @blub-senpai @darnitdraco @dragonsondragons @girlofchaos @hallway5 @stardust-galaxies @joelsflannel @buckybarneshairpullingkink @llilithmademedoit @quicksilvermad @kirsteng42 @dins-cyare @pedrostories​ @1andthesame​

[thesumofmymanyparts]

Lifetime

While in college, one day I woke up in an very unexplainable bad mood. While walking to class I decided I would be in a better mood if I could make at least one person smile. I pulled a clip board and a note pad out of my backpack and looked around for someone else that appeared to be in a bad mood too (it was Monday morning so it wasn't too hard). I found the perfect person to approach shortly, and I approached a girl that looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and told her I was doing a survey (this was a common occurrence at UNT near the student union). She reluctantly agreed to participate after l assured her it would take 60 seconds or less. I asked her all of the normal start off questions (I had participated in several of these) first name, age, major, where from, etc.... Ok the only real question I have for you is "has anyone told you today how beautiful you are when you smile?" To this she smiled beautifully and stated "no". I told her "well someone one just did". With her smiling, I walked on to class, and as I approached the class room door I turned around and saw her watching me. She took one hand off of the wheels of her wheelchair she was in and mouthed "thank you" as she waved at me. I never saw her again, but I like to think that one random act of kindness made a small difference in her life, I know it did in mine. That was about 25 years ago and I still think it about it to this day.

[lapidmira]

Destinasyong Sinisiyasat: Sa Baguio Mahahanap!

Tanaw ang pagbagsak ng pira-pirasong dahon mula sa isang punong nakatirik. Pawang matagal na itong nagmamanman sa bawat dayuhang matagal na ring nagmamasid sa kanya.

Habang umiiral ang modernisasyon sa iba’t ibang dako ng bansang Pilipinas, mayroong natatanging lugar na kinagigiliwan ng nakararami; hindi lamang dahil sa taglay nitong malamig na klima, sa pinagmamalaki nitong strawberry jam o sa kakaiba nitong mga tanim gaya ng mirasol na hindi karaniwang matatagpuan sa ibang lalawigan, kun'di dahil na rin sa taglay nitong mayamang kultura.

Hindi ko man ganap na sabihin ang pangalan ng tinutukoy kong lalawigan, alam kong natitiyak mo na ang nais kong bigyang pakahulugan: ang lungsod ng Baguio. Ang lugar na punong-puno ng pinausbong na kultura, mga tanawing makukulay sa mata, mga magigiliw na taong handang magbahagi ng kanilang pag-aari: ang lugar na puno ng kapayapaan, pagbibigayan at pagmamahalan. Ang lugar na parati kong nanais-naising balikan.

Ang Baguio sa Madilim na Kahapon

Kuha ang larawan mula sa Esquire Philippines.

Taong 1846 nang pamunuan ng mga Kastila ang probinsya ng Benguet na kung saan pinaghiwa-hiwalay nila ang bawat lugar sa karatig nito upang bigyan ng kaniya-kaniyang kabansagan. Dala ng kolonisasyon, naipasa sa kilalang tribong Ibaloi ang isang kakaibang kultura. Ito ang labis na pagpapahalaga sa kanilang namayapang mahal sa buhay. Sa ibang tradisyon, ang mga yumao ay inililibing at humahantong sa mga pampublikong sementeryo: malayo sa piling ng kanilang pamilya at dinadalaw lamang tuwing may pagkakataon o pagdiriwang. Sa tribong Ibaloi, nakagawian na nilang ilibing ang mga bangkay ng mga patay sa loob ng bahay at bakuran dahilan ang paniniwalang kasama pa rin nila ito hanggang sa kasalukuyan.

Kuha ang larawan mula sa I-Witness: ‘Our Baguio’, dokumentaryo ni Sandra Aguinaldo

Taong 1900 naman nang dumating ang mga Amerikano sa Benguet. Sa kanilang pananakop, nagpatayo sila ng mga gusali at istrakturang may kaparehong katangian at hulma sa mga kayariang mula sa Amerika. Kung sasaliksikin ang ilang mga lumang larawan na kuha sa nasabing lugar, hindi maitatangging naroon pa rin ang dati nitong kasiglahan at diwa: ang nagsilbing ugat sa pagpapayaman ng mga tanawin at mga kagawian na atin na ngayong tinatamasa.

Kuha ang larawan mula sa website na WordPress.

Taong 1908, kinilala ang lungsod ng Baguio bilang Summer Capital of the Philippines sa kadahilanang ito ang nagsisilbing takbuhan at destinasyon ng mga tao mula sa mababang lugar. Mula sa una nitong pangalan na Bagiw na nangangahulugang lumot, kasalukuyan na itong kinikilala sa pangalang Baguio, isang maunlad na sentro ng negosyo, komersyo at edukasyon.

Sa Likod ng Malinamnam na Lasa

Kuha ang larawan mula sa Escape Manila.

Para sa mga suki ng malinamnam na ube at strawberry jam mula sa Baguio, ang mga pasalubong na ito ay may tinatago ring mga istorya na ugat ng gayong pagkakakilanlan. Pangunahing layunin ng pamunuan ng Good Shepherd Convent – ang pinakasikat na pamilihan ng mga subenir sa itinatampok na siyudad, ang pagbibigay ng edukasyong pang-kolehiyo sa mga kabataang mag-aaral. Bagamat marami ang nagbibigay paanyaya sa kanilang negosyo na sumangguni sa ibang korporasyon, hindi nila ito tinatanggap sapagkat nakasasapat na ang inilalaan nilang pagsisikap upang makapagtapos ang kanilang mga iskolar. Sinabi ng isang namumunong madre na kung kanila itong tatanggapin, mawawala lamang sa pokus at magagambala ang pag-aaral ng mga estudyanteng naghahanapbuhay.  

Ikalawa nilang adhikain sa pagbebenta ng subenir ang pagpapatayo ng mga organisadong grupo ng mga magsasaka, hindi lamang sa Benguet ngunit maging sa Ilocos at La Union. Sa pamamaraang ito, nabibigyang sapat na tugon ang agrikultura sa Baguio at sabay na napapanatili ang pangkabuhayang pinansyal ng mga manggagawa.

Kuha ang larawan mula sa I-Witness: ‘Our Baguio’, dokumentaryo ni Sandra Aguinaldo

Isa ring sikreto ng linamnam nito ang pagdarasal ng rosaryo habang ito ay pinoproseso ng mga trabahador. Ayon sa kanila, isang banal na pananim ang ube na hindi maaaring masugatan o mabagsak sa tuwing inaani, ‘di gaya ng ibang halaman. Kaya nga’t nang malaman ko ang impormasyong ito, bumili ako ng limang piraso upang maibahagi sa mga espesyal na tao sa aking buhay at upang makatulong na rin sa mga nagsusumikap nilang mag-aaral.

Mga Kaakit-akit na Kalye | Lugar ng Malikhaing Kamay

Mula sa mga kuwadro na gawa sa mga eskultura, sa mga totoong kwento sa likod ng mga gawang sining, talaga namang sinasalamin ng mga malikhaing kulay sa pader ang kaluluwa ng isang malayang paglalakbay.

Para sa ilang mga tao, ang street art o graffiti ay itinuturing bilang isang gawa ng paninira o bandalismo: kakila-kilabot na tanawin na dapat patungan ng payak na kulay. Sa pananaw ng iba, kinikilala nila ito bilang isang likhang-sining, isang kasakdalan na nagpapahayag ng kanilang pagkakaiba-iba at kumakatawan sa kanilang talento na naiimpluwensyahan ng kultura, politika, musika, at relihiyon.

Tampok sa mga lansangan sa Baguio ang mga dinisenyuhang pader. Pinapayaman nila ang ganitong uri ng sining at kasanayan dahil natatangi itong demokratikong pamamaraan ng paghahatid ng opinyon sa publiko. Dagdag pa riyan, ang pagkakakilanlan ng mga sinaunang kultura ng tribong Ibaloi ay higit ding napapanatili sa pamamagitan ng street murals.

Ang Burnham Park

Kuha ang larawan mula sa website na WordPress.

Natagpuan ko na lamang ang aking sarili na nakatanaw sa matayog na puno sa Burnham Park, isa sa pinakakilalang pasyalan ng mga turista sa Baguio. Isang espiritwal na repleksyon ang sumagi sa isip ko habang nakatingala sa matataas na sanga ng puno: ganito pala kayabong ang isang tanim na inalagaan, ang tanim na dumaraan sa unti-unting proseso ng pag-usbong, ang tanim na nagkamit ng kanyang kasaganahan ayon sa nakatakda nitong panahon.

Kuha ang larawan mula sa WIkimedia Commons.

Tampok sa parkeng ito ang isang lawa, kilala sa bansag na Burnham Lagoon. Ayon sa kasaysayan, pinangalanan ito ng isang Amerikanong arkitekto at taga-plano ng lungsod na si Daniel Hudson Burnham.

Kuha ang larawan mula sa website ng Detourista.

Tanaw mula rito ang pinakamataas na bundok sa rehiyon, ang Mount Cabuyao. Dagdag pa riyan, ang mga turista ay maaaring sumakay sa mga maliliit na bangka habang nililibot ang munting lawa.

Habang nakasakay at pumapadyak sa ‘di pangkaraniwang bisekleta na matatagpuan sa parehong parke, naramdaman ko ang pagiging malaya dala ng pag-iisa. Hindi kalungkutan ang nangingibabaw sa aking dibdib kun’di nag-uumapaw na kasiyahan at pagtatanto. Sa bawat padyak ko nang hindi nalalaman kung saan ako patungo, pinili ko pa ring magpatuloy at ‘wag magambala sa maraming pangamba. Ang pangambang baka ubos na ang oras ng pagrenta ko sa bisekleta o kaya naman ang pag-aalinlangan na maiwan ako ng aking mga kasama. Kung isasabuhay, para lamang itong pagbagtas ng aking mga pangarap: wala akong dapat isipin kun’di ang aking layunin at mga naisin, dapat akong magpatuloy na kumayod sa kabila man ng mga balakid at mga negatibong pangyayaring magdaraan.

Sa ganitong matamis na karanasan, 'paalam' ang pinakamahirap na bitawan. Kahit sa isang larawan ko na lamang ito madalas na mababalikan, alam kong nag-iwan ito sa puso ko ng isang reyalisasyon: unang parte pa lamang ito ng aking paglalakbay, kailangan kong magpatuloy dahil hindi pa ito ang nag-aabang na huling destinasyon na aking kalalagyan.

Hindi lamang sulit ang pagpasyal sa Burnham Park dahil sa mga tanawing taglay nito. Sa pagsampa sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng nasabing lugar, gaya ng Japanese Peace Tower at hardin ng mga rosas, malalasap mo rin ang mga nakamamanghang kasaysayan.

Ang Mines View Park

Hindi ba't ang sarap huminga sa paligid na puno ng kapayapaan, sa humuhuning hangin na humahaplos sa ating mga balat?

Ang isang sulyap sa Amburayan Valley ay maaaring masaksihan sa view deck ng Mines View. Dahil sa kaakit-akit na tanawin ng mga bundok mula sa itaas, ang parke ay isa ring magandang lugar para sa pagkuha ng mga larawan.

Sa parke, marami rin iba't ibang mga subenir tulad ng mga larawang inukit sa kahoy, mga tinitindang pilak, mga produktong habi mula sa Sagada, at iba pang mga gawang katutubo. Pinapayagan din ang mga turista na kumuha ng kanilang larawan kasama ang magagandang kabayo. Maaari mo ring maramdaman na ikaw ay isang Igorot sa pamamagitan ng pagrenta ng isang buong damit ng mga taga Cordillera. Para sa mga lalaki, kasama sa kasuotan ang bahag, kalasag, headdress at sibat. Para naman sa kababaihan, mayroon itong tapis, vest, at madisenyong headdress. Dagdag pa riyan, maaari rin matikman dito ang matamis na inihaw na mais at pusit.

Sa malawak na tanawin mula sa itaas, gusto ko na lamang ibulalas lahat ng problemang aking nararanasan: mula sa pamilya, kaibigan at pag-aaral, maging sa pagdududa sa sarili kong kakayahan. Hindi ko ito naisakatuparan, nakakapit kasi sa aking kamay ang isang kaibigan. Katulad ko, marami rin siyang katanungan na gustong bigyang tugon. Sa oras na iyon, kailangan niya ng isang sandigan na magbibigay sa kanya ng katatagan. Hindi niya marahil gustong makarinig pa ng hinagpis ng kalungkutan.

Sa oras na iyon, naunawaan kong hindi ako kailanman nag-iisa. Naunawaan kong hindi lamang ako ang biktima ng magulong tadhana o ng mapanghusgang lipunan. Sa kinatatayuan ko, pinili kong magpakatotoo laban sa aking kahinaan. Ganito pala ang pakiramdam ng pag-aalinlangan na baka hindi ko kayanin at malagpasan ang lahat: na baka sa isang iglap, mauwi sa wala ang lahat ng aking pinagpaguran.

Dahan-dahan kaming humakbang pababa ng hagdan. Sa huling sulyap ko sa pawang malalim na bangin, isang pagtatanto na naman ang sumagi sa'king isip: Ang katayugan ng bundok ay nakasalalay sa nais na marating ng kanyang mambabagtas. Muli, kung pipiliin kong mas manaig ang aking kahinaan, baka hanggang dito na lamang ang aking patutunguhan.

St. Scholastica Retreat House

At sinabi niya sa kanila, Magsiparito kayo ng bukod sa isang dakong ilang, at mangagpahinga kayo ng kaunti. Sapagka't marami ang nangagpaparoo't parito, at sila'y hindi man lamang mangagkapanahon na magsikain. (Mark 6:31)

Matatagpuan sa 108 Wagner Road, Military Cut-off, Baguio City, lugar ito para sa pribadong pagninilay at pagdarasal, para sa isang espiritwal na pag-uusap upang makinig sa abot-sigaw ng puso.

Kuha ang larawan mula kay Gian De Leon.

Maliban sa mga kwentong nakatataas ng balahibo, isa rin sa kinasabikan ko sa lugar na ito ang mga pagpupulong na pinangunahan ng propesyonal na ispiker. Palagi niya kasing itinatampok ang kahalagahan ng pamilya sa tuwing siya ay nagbibigay paalala.

Bago ako lumisan sa aming tahanan upang mamasyal sa Baguio, nakabibinging bangayan muna ng aking magulang ang sumalubong sa paggising ko. Wika ko pa noon sa sariling diwa, matutuwa ako sa pansamantala kong pagkawala dahil walang gagambala sa payapa kong pag-iisip.

Sa dalawang gabing hindi ko nakasabay ang pamilya sa hapag-kainan, hinanap-hanap ko na agad ang halakhak ng nakababata kong kapatid sa tuwing kami ay nagtatalo tungkol sa isang paksa. Hinanap-hanap ko ang pangungumusta ng ina sa aking mga grado, na kahit madalas ay nagbibigay sa akin ng presyur, nagsisilbi pa ring inspirasyon ko upang lalong pagbutihan ang pag-aaral. Maging ang paghalik ng aking ama sa mga pisngi habang sinasabi na kami raw ang natatanging magkamukha sa pamilya.

Sa aking pagtulog, ninais kong maramdaman ang yakap ng ina. Nangako ako sa sarili: pag-uwi ko, agad ko siyang pagsasabihan ng lahat ng aking natutunan sa paglalakbay.

Mula noon, mas lalong guminhawa ang aming ugnayan. Nalaman ko rin na ang kapayapaan ay nag-uugat sa matibay na pundasyon ng pagmamahalan. Hindi sa pagtakas, hindi sa paglilibang.

Sa huling paglalarawan sa lugar ng St. Scholastica, sigurado akong mararanasan mo rito ang malalim na pagninilay-nilay na magbibigay ng panibagong pananaw tungo sa mga maling pang-unawa na akala mo dati ay nararapat at tama.

The Mansion House

Kuha ang larawan mula sa website na TrekEarth.

Matatagpuan ito sa silangang bahagi ng lungsod sa kahabaan ng C.P. Romulo Drive (dating bahagi ng Leonard Wood Road): tapat mismo ng Wright Park. Mas matanda ito kaysa sa lungsod at itinuturing na pinakasikat na pasyalan sa Baguio. Sa taglay nitong magagandang hardin at dinisenyuhang damuhan, ito ay isang paboritong pook para sa pamamasyal at pagkuha ng larawan.

Napadpad ako sa harap ng ipinagmamalaking Malacañang. Mula sa itsura nito sa labas, mapapansin agad na ang mga nakasasampa sa palasyong ito ay tanging mga makapangyarihan lamang. Ang pasyalang ito ang pinakamaluwag sa paningin ngunit pinakamasikip sa pakiramdam. May limitasyon lamang ang pagkuha ng larawan, maging ang hangganan na maaaring hakbangan ng mga turista.

Ang lugar na ito ay patunay sa nanatiling puwang sa pagitan ng mga nakaluklok at mga ordinaryong mamamayan. Ang upuan sa palasyo ay alay sa may kalamangan habang ang semento sa labas ay iniluluklok sa walang kapangyarihan.

Maliit na pagtatanto lamang ngunit nakakaalarma dahil nakasalalay sa kanila ang ating kinabukasan.

Muli kaming sumakay sa bus, pasulong mula sa lugar na puno ng pagmamataas.

Minor Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag

Kuha ang larawan mula sa website na Luke Inspired.

Mula sa kataasan ng Baguio, napadpad akong nagdarasal sa isang simbahan sa Pangasinan. Huling destinasyon na kaya ito o panibagong simula na naman ng pagbabagtas?

Kahit hindi na ito kabilang sa mga kilalang pasyalan sa Baguio, karaniwang nagagawi ang mga turista sa Manaoag Church dahil ito raw ay makasaysayan at tunay na kagiliw-giliw. Libu-libong mga tao ang pumupunta sa lalawigan taun-taon upang maranasan ang kalikasang espiritwal ng lugar at kumuha ng iba't ibang mga atraksyon na may kinalaman sa relihiyon.

Sa loob ng isang oras na misa, nagbigay pasasalamat ako sa lahat ng biyayang aking natanggap: sa mga bagong kaalaman na aking natutunan, sa mga kaibigan na lagi kong nasasandalan, sa kaligayahang bigay ng aking pamilya at sa marami pang iba.

Huling Destinasyon: Ang Sarili

Sa tatlong araw kong paghahanap ng huling patutunguhan, naunawaan kong hindi isang partikular na lugar ang aking uuwian.

Tulad ng Baguio na nagpapayabong ng kanyang nakagawiang kultura, marapat ko rin sigurong pagyamanin ang aking sariling paniniwala at kaugalian upang makamit nito ang lahat ng kanyang inaasam.

Sarili, ang huling destinasyon na nilaan sa akin ng mahabang paglalakbay.

Salamat Baguio! Hanggang sa muli!

Ikaw, ano pang hinihintay mo?

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 1

CW/TW: Physical Abuse

1805 St Petersburg

The air outside was brisk and cool, not enough to warrant a thick coat, but enough to remind the citizens of the approaching winter. The daytime ambience of the party offered a sense of dissociation from reality, a distraction from the impending forces of Napoleon and his army. Despite the approach of such a powerful adversary, the usual fear and anxiety associated with such situations was missing from the faces of the guests. Most of the guests, that is. Two young women talked quietly in the corner, both around 20 years of age. The ladies were recognizable by those in society as the two daughters of Prince Karlov Meininov; Princess Elisabeta Bolkonskaya, the younger, and Princess Y/N Zhudova, the elder, by a year and a half.

“Sister,” began Y/N, “It will be alright, you’ll be with myself, Marya, and-”

“I know, I know, but… I worry for Andrei, N/N. You of all people know he hasn’t been himself as of late, even Pierre has-”

A small commotion interrupted the woman’s words, drawing the attention of the two, as well as the attention of the surrounding guests. A young man, no more than 20, argued with a small number of other, older men. Y/N sighed, knowing the likely cause for the debate. The man in question was Pierre Bezukhov, an old friend and stalwart companion. He was just over two and a half cubits tall, stout, and bespectacled. Lise gave her a knowing look, nudging her in his direction. She gave her sister a gentle pat on the arm, moving swiftly over to Pierre just as another man caught his attention.

“Pierre, old friend,” greeted the man.

“Andrei, it’s so good to see you here” he sighed. The two embraced, breaking apart, not aware of Y/N standing nearby, smiling softly at the two.

“Getting a taste of high society?”

“Yes, and making a fool of myself, as usual…”

Pierre turned, finally noticing the woman standing off to the side; he broke out into a wide grin, moving quickly to kiss her outstretched hand. Andrei did the same, greeting her with a small smile.

“How are you two enjoying the salon of our dearest Anna Pavlovna?” Y/N asked, smiling playfully.

Pierre chuckled, looking nervously around for the woman in question before continuing.

“She thinks me some sort of ill-mannered beast, but considering the conversation I just had she is not the only one.”

“Think nothing of it, I find it endearing.” He blushed, smiling a little, “But, you are right, you know,” she continued, seeing the confused looks on the men’s faces, “Russia is in need of a revolution of its own, although preferably one with fewer beheadings.”

Pierre smiled, making to continue before something caught his eye. That something being a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a Grecian dress; Helene Kuragina.

“She’s ravishing… No hope for me though. I see her every day and she hardly notices I’m there.”

Y/N sighed, looking upon the woman disdainfully. Helene was a cruel, snake of a woman; she had been immeasurably hateful towards Y/N in the past, calling her mother a “ruble-seeking gypsy of a woman” on more than one occasion. Y/N’s mother was a peasant girl of English descent who had fallen in love with a wealthy Prince, her father. They married in secret, but after Y/N’s grandparents discovered the union, they immediately broke it off, marrying him off to a wealthy Princess from the Capitol. Little did they know, Y/N’s mother was already with child and was forced to care for the child with no help from the Prince, who had no knowledge of his previous wife’s condition. When Y/N was 12 years old, her mother became ill with consumption and passed soon after. Before she died, she sent word to the girl’s father, begging him to take her in and care for her. Her father was more than happy to, welcoming his child with open arms.

“But your lovely wife? Is she well?” Pierre directed his and Y/N’s attention away from Helene, back to Andrei and each other.

“See for yourself,” Andrei gestured to where Lise stood, making small talk with a group of other women.

“She’s enchanting,” Y/N nodded, agreeing with Pierre.

“She brings happiness wherever she goes, you’re a lucky man Andrei, and my sister is lucky to have you.”

“You think?”

“I know, she cares for you deeply.”

~

After some time, and a number of enlightening conversations regarding the politics of modern Russia, Lise beckoned Y/N over, reminding her to be at her house at the appropriate time the following morning.

“Lise, I’ve already told you I’m attending Natasha Rostova’s name day ceremony tomorrow, I’ll arrive the day after you do.”

“Oh yes, my mistake. Wish her a happy name day for me.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

“Where are the two of you off to?” Pierre questioned, adjusting his spectacles. Y/N lifted her hand from his arm, moving to assist her sister down the stairs.

“Hasn’t he told you? He’s going off to the war and sending me away to the country to have my baby all alone. That’s the sort of husband I’ve got.”

“Are you really?” Questioned Pierre, turning to await Andrei’s answer.

“She won’t be alone,” he began, “She’ll be with my sister as well as her own.”

“But to have my baby in that bleak place, with people I hardly know?”

“Lise, we have been through all this, it’s for the best.” he continued, “Now, take the carriage home, the doctor said you should rest. We’ll walk with Pierre.”

Lise huffed, looking towards Pierre and her sister.

“You see? He treats me like a child.”

“Lise…”

“No, I don’t care if they hear. You have no pity for me; you were never like this before.” she stopped, noticing Andrei’s irritation, “You see? I don’t believe he loves me anymore.”

Y/N sighed, she could tell Andrei off and she knew he would listen to her; he had always valued her opinion very highly. Alas, they were in public, in front of a number of people. She decided against it, as there were reputations at risk; not that she herself had much of a reputation to maintain, it was more for the sake of Andrei and Lise.

Pierre tried, desperately, to comfort Lise, as was his nature. He quickly abandoned that attempt, realizing his inexperience and lack of tact would, undoubtedly, do nothing to ease her mind. Y/N could tell, however, that the attempt was appreciated by Lise, nonetheless.

“No, no, don’t. I’ll be good,” Lise chuckled, “I know Andrei wishes to speak with you. You won’t be too long?”

“No, my love.”

“Goodnight Pierre. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

Y/N moved forward, pressing a kiss to each of her sister’s cheeks before the two men began once again to walk down the final few stairs. Pierre offered Y/N his arm, her gloved hand resting upon the dark wool of his coat.

The trio walked along the street, passing beneath street lamps and small trees. The silence was comfortable, familiar. They crossed a small, cobbled bridge before any of them dared to speak.

“You’re really going to the war? You don’t think Napoleon’s the antichrist like the rest of them?” Pierre asked, looking to Andrei.

“It’s got nothing to do with Napoleon.”

“Then why, Andrei?” Y/N interjected, stopping to face him. Her face was calm and retained all the composure expected of a woman of her standing; save for her eyes. The E/C orbs were hard as iron, unafraid to stare him in the eye. Despite looking upon Andrei as a brother, her sister came first. Always. Lise had always been her first priority, since they had first met she was always responsible for her well-being, despite being older by a mere year and a half. In all honesty, she wasn’t angry at Andrei, as Lise was, or concerned for his safety, as Pierre was, although that was certainly a priority. Pierre stood beside her, looking at her face. He recognized the disappointment and confusion in her eyes. The three of them had been close long before Andrei and Lise had begun courting. It was an unconventional friendship, but it had lasted for far longer than any of them had expected.

Andrei took a moment before replying, formulating his words

“Because I can’t bear any more of this life. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, night after night.”

Y/N continued walking, shaking her head. Her hand began to tremble lightly as it rested on Pierre’s wrist. At this slight shaking, Pierre looked down, noticing the movement and the distress palpable on her face. He rested his other hand on hers, gently squeezing it. She looked up at him, gratefully. Her body pressed closer to his, as though he was a rock, anchoring her in the sea of frustration and distress that was closing in around her.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s the truth,” he continued, swiveling to face Pierre, muttering under his breath, “Never marry, Pierre. Don’t make my mistake.”

Y/N turned to face him, face distorted in anger. Never had she expected that Andrei would say such a thing in front of her, Pierre clearly felt similarly. She lifted her hand gently from beneath Pierre’s, and promptly slapped Andrei across the face.

“You will NEVER refer to my sister as a mistake!”

Pierre was shocked, he had never seen Y/N this furious before. She had always been very well-mannered and calm, even when people insulted her heritage, choices, or her appearance, but this was nothing like he had seen from her before. Andrei lifted a hand to his face, cupping the now-reddening mark upon his cheek.

“Honestly Andrei, you don’t want to fight because you can’t bear any more of your life as it is, you want to fight because you can’t bear yourself any longer. You think no one loves you, or cares for you, or gives a damn about your well-being. We do! You are stuck in such a state of self-pity and self-hatred that you no longer recognize when people, your friends and wife for a start, are concerned for you. I just…” she paused, calming herself before continuing in a quiet voice,”You have so much Andrei… more than so many will ever have, and you’re willing to throw it all away for… for nothing.”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Pierre began, but she held up a hand.

“Life’s not fair, Pierre. You and I know better than most, it’s time he knows. Until then, I must take my leave.” She turned to leave, head held high despite the sadness in her eyes. Pierre grabbed her arm, she paused for a moment. Their eyes locked, solid E/C meeting deep brown. Pierre himself knew that life wasn’t easy. He was the bastard son of a Count, but he had been raised as close to a legitimate child as a natural son could be. Y/N, on the other hand, was raised in a poor town, by a woman whose only source of income after her father’s departure was the sale of her own body; while Pierre and Andrei wanted for nothing, she wanted for everything and it had showed.

He could see it in her eyes; the anger at Andrei’s willingness to abandon his family for a cause he didn’t believe him. The envy of his early life, and the ease with which he had lived it. And finally, the sadness that he couldn’t appreciate the life and opportunities he had been given. He released her arm, allowing her to walk away.

She reached the end of the street, making her way back to the salon to retrieve her carriage. Her feet travelled the familiar streets, easily carrying her back to the event, which was winding down. Guests wandered steadily out, the women escorted by the men into their carriages. Y/N made her way through the crowd alone, searching for the familiar carriage she had arrived in.

A hand on her back distracted her from this pursuit, causing her shoulders to clench as she whirled around. A man stood behind her, tall and dark. Y/N recognized him as Prince Anatole Kuragin, standing beside him was his father, Prince Vassily Kuragin. She curtsied, offering up her hand as was customary. Both men took it, the younger Prince lingering far longer than she would’ve liked.

“Princess Y/N, you look as lovely as ever. I have been trying to get into contact with your father in the hopes that we, meaning my son and I, could visit with you and your father. Unfortunately, he hasn’t returned my letters.” He paused, allowing her the chance to respond.

“As much as I appreciate your interest in the lives of myself and of my father, we don’t often receive guests; much less guests who we haven’t personally invited. If my father was interested in meeting with you, he would have done so already. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am rather tired and would like to return home, have a lovely evening gentlemen.” She moved back to her carriage, noticing her driver standing near it, waiting to assist her.

“Dear Princess-” started Anatole, only to be cut off by his father.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be able to squeeze us into your busy schedule? We are rather eager to visit.” she sighed, turning back to face

“Prince Vassily, forgive me, but even if I was available, I can assure you neither my father nor myself are interested in whatever proposal you may have for either of us. Good day.”

This time, she was allowed to walk uninterrupted back to her carriage, stepping in with the help of her driver.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes, Sergei, I am. Thank you for your concern.”

As soon as the door was shut, she placed her head in her hands. She undid the pins keeping her plaits in place, allowing them to fall past her shoulders to her lower back. As she slowly unravelled the braids, her mind began to wander; back to the argument. Had she overreacted? Probably. Had she ruined her friendship with the two men? Most likely. But, was she right? Most definitely.

She resolved to draft two letters when she returned home, addressed to Andrei and Pierre. As she neared the gates of her house, she noticed the lamps were lit in the Western-most Room of the building. Father was still awake, despite the late hour. After exiting the carriage, she began to hear the distant melody of a piano. As she approached the double doors, she recognized the familiar tune of Dussek’s Piano Sonata No.18, Op. 44. It had been a long while since she’d heard her Father play the piano.

Her Father suffered from not only the early onset of the memory loss and confusion associated with old age, but also a failing heart. Thus, he had lost much of his knowledge and ability to read music, but was physically unable to do much else. Her Father had always valued music very highly, considering it a necessary part of a child’s education. Following this ideal, he had enrolled both Lise and Y/N in piano lessons, as well as the flute and the violin, respectively. While Lise was competent at playing the flute, Y/N was considered by many to be a very talented violinist, even at a young age. This was one of her few talents deemed recognizable and praiseworthy by the upper members of society.

She entered the doors, quickly hanging her cloak and heading into the parlor. Her ailing father sat on the bench, arthritic fingers moving across the keys to the best of his ability. The sheet music in front of him was haphazardly placed on the stand in front of him, distracting him from her presence. She looked around for her violin case, noticing it sitting, open, on the sofa.

The sound of the violin was a frequent one in the Meininov household, and a welcome one at that. Very rarely, however, was it accompanied by another instrument. This was one of those rare times. While there was no true accompaniment to the piece being played, Y/N certainly made it sound like there was. Her movements were sure and precise, easily providing a more prominent melody to the piece.

This continued for the next couple minutes, until her Father, while turning the sheet music, knocked the papers onto the ground. He did not seem to recognize that fact and continued playing, if one could call it that. His piece of the music became more and more discordant; his memory of the piece having faded as quickly and abruptly as it had fallen on the floor. Y/N set her violin down quickly, moving to restrain her Father. At this rate, he was going to damage his fingers and the piano. He became still, opting to grab her wrist in his hand and stare at her, showing no recognition in his face. While the pressure started out light, it quickly became unbearable.

“Father, you’re hurting my arm… Father, let go…” she let out a hiss of pain, feeling his iron grip continue to grow tighter. “Alexei! Mikhail!”

The two men came into the room, noticing her struggling in his grip. They moved forward and grabbed his arm, attempting to pry his fingers off her. After a minute of this struggle, he calmed down, released her, and walked out of the room as if nothing had happened. Y/N cradled her arm to her chest, noticing the mark already beginning to bloom red beneath her skin.

“Are you alright, mistress?” asked Alexei, moving to her side.

“Yes, yes,” she pulled her sleeve over the marks, “Thank you for your help.”

They nodded, leaving the room. She could hear whispers emanating from behind the doors they had left from. As her footsteps drew near the door, the whispers stopped and hurried feet moved quietly away from the doors, back to their respective positions within the household.

When she reached her chambers, a young woman was waiting inside to help her prepare for bed. She made to dismiss her, but the maid, a girl named Alexandra, approached her, taking her hand gently. She pushed up the sleeve of Y/N’s dress, exposing the injury. Despite being newly made, it was already painfully red and extremely tender to the touch. Alexandra led her over to the pair of chairs residing in the corner of the room.

“What are you-?” Y/N began, but a sharp pain in her arm cut her off. She grimaced, looking to where Alexandra was carefully prodding the bruise, feeling the area around the mark.

“I think you might have sprained it, my lady,” she answered quietly, tucking her hand into the pocket of her apron, drawing out a roll of clean cotton. The two sat in silence while Alexandra deftly wrapped the bandages around the bruise, obscuring it from sight. After tucking the end of the bandage into itself, finishing the task with ease.

Y/N lifted her newly wrapped appendage to her face, noticing the skill with which it was bound.

“Who taught you medicine?”

“My mother, she was a nurse before… before she got sick.”

“I see; is that why you came to work in our household?”

“Yes she has been suffering from consumption for the past few months and we don’t-” she hesitated, voice breaking. After a moment, she continued. “We don’t have the money for her medicine so my sisters and I had to find work.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, where is she being treated?”

“At our aunt’s house, she was a nurse too, but we can only do so much without the proper medication.”

Y/N nodded, moving quickly over to the desk seated in the adjacent corner. She withdrew from one of its drawers, a sheet of paper and a small box. The box contained a quill and an inkpot, as well as a wax imprint with which to seal letters. She quickly drafted a note to her family’s doctor, instructing him to provide all necessary medications and assistance to Alexandra’s mother, and to charge all costs to her personal account.

After a few short minutes, Alexandra was given the letter, now sealed and addressed to the physician. The girl examined the letter, clearly struggling with the words on the outside.

“Can you read?”

“I… no, I can’t.”

“This letter is addressed to my physician. I’ve instructed him to provide your mother with the necessary medical care. I’ll inform the carriage driver to bring you there tomorrow morning.”

“But, I can’t afford it, we-”

“You won’t be paying, he will be charging it to my account.”

Tears brimmed at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Thank you so much, you’ve no idea how grateful I am,” she placed her arms around Y/N, hugging her tightly. She smiled softly, patting Alexandra’s back gently.

“Now,” she released the girl, wiping the tears from her face, “Run along, you should be getting to bed soon.”

Alexandra nodded, holding the letter close to her heart as she left, closing the door behind her.

Y/N brought her hand closer to her face, tracing the bandage with the tip of her finger; writing the letter had been painful, far more than she would have imagined. So, her apologies would have to wait for the time being.

A/N: If you find any spelling mistakes, please message me the part, chapter, and sentence. I’ll do my best to fix it, thank you!

[tall-goblin-life]

UNT Gothic

You've been walking up a hill for 15 minutes. Three days. The semester. No time at all. Forever.

You think you saw a white squirrel. You didn't see a white squirrel. Don't acknowledge the white squirrels.

The white squirrels bring Luck. Don't acknowledge the white squirrel.

Scrappy greets you on the way to class. Those were real feathers. That was not Scrappy.

Scrappy greets you in the GAB. That is Scrappy. Do not greet Scrappy.

It's windy out. The wind turbines are still. The wind is never at your back.

The Union closes at midnight. It's 3 AM and the lights are on. All of the seats are occupied. No one is in them.

The fourth floor of Willis exists. You go up the stairs. You're in the basement. The fourth floor of Willis never existed.

The bus arrives. The driver is a white squirrel. You get on the bus. The passengers are squirrels.

A cricket stops to ask you for directions. It wants to go to Chilton Hall. You're in Chilton Hall. The cricket is dead.

The Language Building is always cold. It's always warm. The halls are empty. Don't look at the writing on the chalkboards.

You're out for a walk. Someone waves at you. You wave back. You're waving at nothing.

You walk off campus. You keep walking. You're in West Hall. You exit West Hall. You're in Bruce Hall. You exit Bruce Hall. You're in Bruce Hall.

[funkyliloboist]

Yesterday’s big brain moment was as follows:

Watching a movie in the UNT Union

Suddenly craving chips and dip

Open my laptop and set it in my seat

FaceTime it

Watch the movie while acquiring the food

[coachtfd]

During his post-match press conference following a disappointing draw against Wolves, Solsjkaer said that Unted “dominated the game.” Sorry Coach, but dominating POSSESSION isn’t the same as dominating the GAME. Borrusia Dortmund’s win over FC Union Berlin, now THAT’S what dominating a game looks like. 😎

[unt-nonbinary]

Hey this blog is going to be inactive because I graduated but just in case more incoming students find this blog I would like to note for your sake:

1) UNT is not really the best at being lgbt+ inclusive or proactive - their student groups are alright but can be prone to still misgendering some of their own members and are also not really as involved with making concrete changes to school policy or climate. In other words there is very little meaningful activism, although there is some.

2) UNT does not have a published list of its available gender neutral bathroooms such like other schools have. If you search on google “UNT gender neutral bathroom” you are going to find simply a bunch of news articles reporting to brag on UNT’s behalf how they were putting in less than 10 neutral bathrooms scattered across the entirety of campus - and to no surprise - not a one of these articles shares a map or plan from UNT of where to actually find them. I had a suspicion that at least one would be in the Union and when I looked at the Union building’s website I found I was right. It was on the 4th floor. Not easily accessible to most students, and also I had to scroll all the way down the Union’s page on floor plan rooms to even discover it existed. How are most students supposed to know?

3) UNT is in violation of its own nondiscrimination policies on the basis of gender. The Office of Equal Opportunity is supposed to ensure that the school’s non-discrimination policies are being adhered to but have not fulfilled that. Do not expect UNT to be proactive about non-discrimination unless the offense is something they feel will catch other people’s attention. If it affects few people, or few people have noticed so far, there is no incentive for them to actually prioritize non-discrimination over “expressive activities” even if those activities are explicitly expressing discrimination. The situation was as follows:

On April 4th - on both their Facebook and twitter - “College Republicans” posted a meme that even at face value - is expressly mocking those with trans identities. There are other genuine issues, but what is important is the comment that accompanies the posts that condescendingly states there are only two genders. There are not. And this is a well known transphobic stance to purport on behalf of a student organization. UNT has a nondiscrimination policy both for itself and its student orgs concerning not to discriminate the basis of gender or gender expression. Allowing their organizations to express resentment of transgender students, especially nonbinary transgender students, is an explicit violation of this. And the posts were reported to the Office of Equal Opportunity with the only intent that they be taken down. That is all. Since leaving them up not only violates the school’s policies but also actively dissuades transgender students from joining the organization - and all organizations are supposed to be welcoming of everyone regardless of gender. So this would potentially benefit their organization as well.

The report form reads:  “ On April 4th of this semester (Spring 2019), UNT College Republicans posted to their facebook and twitter pages a post which openly mocks gender diversity and trans students - specifically nonbinary trans students. This post as well contained in its description, the mocking and misuse of the word "triggered" used to describe the reaction of those who are misgendered or react to transphobic jokes. This post directly contradicts Article 3 of a student organization's nondiscrimmination and harrasment policy, and also violates the similar policy of UNT. Link to twitter post: https://twitter.com/UNTRepublicans/status/1113799657623302144 ; Link to Facbook post: https://www.facebook.com/UNTRepublicans/photos/a.162485057147083/2292902477438653/?type=3&theater”

As per each report, it was followed by a mandatory meeting in which it was explained in even more patient detail why this is expressly in violation of a the school’s policies not to discriminate based on gender, as well as what the active harm is to transgender students who have to face a campus that can actively voice discriminating against them. The follow up email to the meeting was as follows:

Please note that UNT’s “Policy 16.004″ is the following:

And that all student organizations are required to fall in line with this policy as per UNT’s Policy 7.019 Article 4:

Thereby UNT failed to enforce its own rules even in the simplest and most explicit of cases simply because in practice it does not actually value its own policies or the specific groups of students it was authored to protect.

 ----

If you are coming here, as so many of us do, simply to get in and out of a program and get a degree - and campus climate is not a particularly important factor for you - then UNT is fine. Its large and can help you make professional connections if you know where to look and who to talk to. But if you are someone who is particularly anxious about how their identity may impact their ability to make these connections, or to participate in student activities and be active, or whether you can feel safe coming out - then I recommend looking for other schools. There are plenty of other really great schools with superior campus climate and commitment to acceptance and non-discrimination. UNT is old, and so has a large alumni pool that will vouch for it simply because it is the place they went and their grandparents went - but it is far from the only option and in fact - its age makes it prone to several and various conservative decisions. And its size makes it prone to being impersonal and functioning more akin to a business manufacturing alumni than a place to always get meaningful or deep peer or mentor relations.

There are other options, and especially as a queer person it is important to explore those options. Denton has a brilliant but small queer community that is active outside of school jurisdiction - but Denton as a whole is still conservative and thus UNT should be working extra hard to ensure its student body is welcomed and treated fairly within its own walls. But it does not. It satisfies itself frequently with performing the minimum - and for many vulnerable students this is not enough. 

And so I simply had to leave with a summary of what my final take away is in case this can help inform others. I wish all of you luck.

[theghostoflibrarymall-blog]

The Ghost That Haunts the Library Mall

Sometimes I think, I want to be here forever. Not to get a bachelors, or a masters, or a phd. I want to be the ghost that haunts UNT.

I want to splash in the fountain and lay in the sun. I want to sit in the swing chairs and watch the squirrels run. I want to be the ghost that haunts the Library Mall, And be there for winter, spring, summer, and fall.

All the people I’d see scurrying here and there. I’d just want to people watch. Sit there and stare. I’d blow a breeze in the warm months, and warm their feet when its cold. And listen to the clock tower and hope it never gets old.

There is always something happening at the Library Mall Something new and exciting either big or small. There is also a comforting constant of what is always present. The green glow of the tower and the Union is always pleasant.

I want to be the ghost that haunts UNT. The Library Mall is the place for me. And maybe students will tell others of my story. Of a strange spirit who once was called ____.

[lejournaldupeintre]

Uber, Lies and Conquences

Uber, Lies and Conquences

UK union staged 24-hour strike in response to Uber files leak The UNT, an union for taxi cab drivers in France, sue Emmanuel Macron. A leaked trove of confidential files has revealed the inside story of how the tech giant Uber flouted laws, duped police, exploited violence against drivers and secretly lobbied governments during its aggressive global expansion. Le journal du peintre Les…