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hopevalley · 4 years ago

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Season 8, Episode 8: A Parade and a Charade

A lot happened in this last episode so there’s plenty to discuss! I’ll try to keep my thoughts...a manageable length. :)

Plotlines:

The Christopher Report

Triangle Tribulations

Bill’s Wounded Pride

Miscellaneous Stuff (FloYo, The Canfields, Dress Shop, Jesse, Infirmary)

This episode has been a little different from the others this season in that we had two pretty big plotlines going on, one medium-sized one, and a bunch of small flickers of plots. Things still managed to flow together pretty well over all, though, I think, but it was a shift I felt was noticeable.

For what it’s worth I mostly enjoyed this episode. There were a few little nitpicks (as usual) but I’ve really been feeling this season that we have a good batch of actors that work really well together and that’s been nice to see.

The Christopher Report

Mr. Christopher Hughes, resident Bad Boy™ and the object of Rachel’s immense and expansive Thirst™...

I’m sure his character arc is going to match that of the average Adopted Child. That is to say, I feel that his arc will follow the same patterns that characters of his archetype usually do. He hates his biological parent who abandons him but becomes curious against his better judgment. He meets his biological father and feels anger/resentment at first, but there’s something there that feels Human and he can’t ignore it. Over time he starts to care, again against his better judgment. In Christopher’s case, it seems likely that the original reason for striking up a relationship will present itself later in the story (perhaps not this season, but next); it won’t be a wholesome attempt to connect, but rather an intent to bamboozle.

Remember Rosemary’s words from earlier: she knows a performance when she sees one. But we’ll get to that.

It’s a good idea for a storyline, and I have some faith in the payoff being worth it if we keep the same head writer for next season. This is the kind of thing best explored over a period of time and they’re doing well with the pacing.

This episode, we first see Christopher when he surprises Rachel at the dress shop.

He mentions they haven’t taken in the sights in town yet, and Rosemary overhears from the back room. She asks him what sights and he switches his story to saying that he was thinking that Rosemary and Lee could take both he and Rachel around town and show them everything. Rosemary says it’s a great idea and of cOURSE they can do that! As soon as Christopher is gone, Rosemary starts lecturing Rachel on the type of freedom she’s trying to experience in Hope Valley. She pretty much says she and Lee don’t approve of Christopher while Rachel ignores her and sneaks out the back door.

The very next scene Christopher surprises Rachel again, but this time with a, uh...hands on approach.

He tells her he’s not afraid of her aunt or uncle, and she says she knows he’s not afraid of Lee because she saw him steal his pocketwatch when he arrived in town. He’s surprised that she didn’t say anything and he calls her “a little sneak.” She starts throwing things at him playfully and he asks, “You’re not afraid of me?” She says she isn’t and he tells her he’s as gentle as a lamb.

She says she doubts that, and he walks through the fire of her throwing hats (or whatever they are) at him and grabs her wrists. She takes the opportunity to kiss him and he laughs. They’re broken up by the sound of people coming closer so he tells her he’ll come to her house tonight and to listen for a sound at her window.

In the next scene, Henry walks into Nathan’s office where Bill seems to be...assisting Nathan? That’s my best guess as to what’s going on. Bill strikes up a conversation with Henry and Henry says they could have gotten drinks to chat if that’s what Bill wanted (it seems very Small Talky but Bill ain’t that kind of man). In fact, Bill destroys the peaceful atmosphere instantly and makes it clear that this is a business discussion, and his questions were business-related.

If I was a bettin’ man I’d wager that Bill will piece together some problems in Hamilton with Christopher, but eh, let’s not overextend my brain just yet.

Bill’s first and only real question is to ask when Christopher arrived in town but Henry gets upset and says Bill just wants to blame someone. I’m surprised Henry didn’t mention the bad blood between him and Bill leading to this, but I’m pretty sure that’ll be coming in the future. Nathan comes in and says nobody’s accusing anyone, they just turned up at the same time so they have to check everything.

Later, Christopher runs out of Henry’s office and to the infirmary yelling for help. Henry was having trouble breathing and he got dizzy. There’s a big commotion about it and Faith tells Christopher that his father has very high blood pressure and they’ve been struggling to get it under control.

Christopher hones in on Lucas and goes after him for hiring Henry back even though he knew he shouldn’t be working. Bill intervenes and stops Christopher from getting too close to Lucas.

(Aside: I haven’t lost hope that they’ll do something with Bill and Christopher, at least from the angle of Bill having raised Christopher’s (dead) half-brother (which means Henry abandoned two women and two children straight-up), but I am starting to think it won’t happen this season.)

Around dinnertime, Henry talks with Carson and is in a good mood. When Carson asks why he’s had a sudden change of heart with wanting to get better (health-wise), he says Christopher called him “Dad” when he was worried about him, and it makes him want to do better because it means Christopher cares about him.

Y’all...that scene was so good. But. BUT. I feel like Henry has a big storm comin’ as it relates to Christopher. I just hope Henry’s self-improvements don’t backslide when he inevitably ends up disappointed in Christopher for one reason or another.

Outside, Christopher is sitting on the steps of Dottie’s Apparel across the way from the café and Rachel approaches him. She asks why he didn’t come to see her and he gets sassy about it, but she actually seems to understand exactly what he’s going through and calls him out excessively gently about it. I don’t like her instant attachment to Christopher but they’re young and dumb and at least she seems to Get Him.

She tells him that he’s not having dinner with his dad because he’s scared—scared of getting close to him, scared of feeling an attachment to him. The only way to protect himself from that attachment, and from the inevitable loss that you will one day experience in regards to them, is to not let it form in the first place.

He asks her what the solution is and she says he needs to take a chance. And then she ruins it by saying “Like when you stole Uncle Lee’s watch.” ?????? This is definitely some Into Bad Boys Teenage Girl Logic right there. There is literally no connection.

She gives him his handkerchief back and when he mentions it still has her lipstick on it, she says, “I know.” THIS GIRL IS TRYING TO GET HER A MAN AND SHE IS TRYING VERY HARD. I wouldn’t be surprised if these were things she read about in her tame bodice ripper novels though LMAO.

They then share a kiss and he promises to come and see her the next day at the store.

Rosemary and Lee mention to Elizabeth that Rachel’s mom wants her to come back home right away, and the next morning Rachel confides in Rosemary that she’s afraid that once she’s back in Bellingham she won’t ever be allowed to return to Hope Valley. Rosemary explains to her that she shouldn’t worry about that; leave it all up to her instead.

Christopher is busy working, digging a trench. He’s getting out some of his frustration and anger by doing this and Lucas seems a bit annoyed by him but otherwise accepting of his, uh, issues. At least...for now. Lucas seems to have come up to the worksite to suggest Christopher spend more time with Henry, as he feels bad that he didn’t realize Henry’s health was actually as bad as it was.

But Christopher won’t go and just keeps angrily digging his ditch, and in fact he’s so consumed by this he doesn’t notice when Rachel leaves town. When he’s on break, he comes back into town only to find that the store is locked up for the day.

Seeing as how Rachel just found out the night before that she was leaving town, I think it’s plausible to imagine that...he doesn’t know she’s actually Gone. I almost feel bad for him.

Honestly, this young man is a whiz of an actor. He’s likable in that Fun Character kind of way where you never know if you should root for him or not. I’m not the type of person who generally likes characters like this, but color me intrigued. This show rarely has interesting characters in it that get to remain interesting. I hope Christopher gets to develop for the next couple of seasons if indeed they choose to keep him around. The guy can act! He plays funny, slimy, rude, arrogant, emotional, and even twitterpated really well, and he ain’t afraid to get dirty to sell the part. I respect that.

Can I just say how sorry for Henry I feel though, knowing—or at least feeling—that he will be blindsided in the near future with Christopher’s uh...faults? Woof.

Triangle Tribulations

There’s a huge part of me that doesn’t even want to discuss this. I just want to say, “That’s a yikes from me, Chief” and move on to the next point. It seems easier. And less awkward. And also...let’s be honest: I have no horse in this race.

I don’t care that much about Elizabeth as a character, and I care even less about what gentleman she might choose to set her sights on in the long run.

But it’s become the central talking point of the show, so let’s discuss it!

Three years is a perfectly acceptable mourning period, but I think the show’s inability to hold its horses these last couple of years is just now catching up to it in the worst way. It puts Elizabeth in this awkward position where she has men interested in her and the show has framed her as being ready ish to move on, but then a new writer stepped in and was told to make sure the triangle lasted through most of the 8th season. How can he make it last when things have been set up for her to move on? Uhh, quick! Come up with something!

Oh, realism! She’s not actually ready to move on!

I mean, I don’t blame John Tinker for this. I blame the writer for S6 and S7 that rushed through the storytelling and gave us...whatever that was, where two men showed up out of nowhere and both set eyes on Elizabeth. I blame the marketing that made sure to sell S6 and S7 for the love triangle instead of the family-friendly or heartwarming elements of the story. It’s really sad that the triangle has come to...this. It didn’t have to. If they hadn’t tried making it a central point in S6 (literally months after Jack died when nobody was ready to really move on and nobody felt that Elizabeth would be ready, either) I don’t think things would be so awful, but it’s too late to go back, now.

Don’t get me wrong, the triangle feels pretty good this season. It’s tense. It’s interesting. Lucas really has shone in this season thus far (instead of coming across as creepy as he sometimes did for the first two seasons he was in), and Nathan is learning to be a little more...forthcoming with his feelings. I guess.

But it should have been S7. S7 should have had this level of care put into it for the triangle so that S8 was a chance for the choice to get some air.

Anyway, I’m not happy with it. I’m glad it’s almost over. I just want it to end. I do not care who the choice is, I just want her to choose.

In this episode, she confronted Nathan right out of the gate, and he wasn’t exactly pleased about it. She acts like he went into the adoption ceremony knowing damn well what Allie had done, but he insists he didn’t know and seems a bit hurt that Elizabeth would accuse him of being mean to her when he tells her that Allie’s list didn’t even have her on it.

Elizabeth later mentions this as a truth (the list, her name not being on it), so I don’t know what we’re supposed to think here. I’m gonna go with: her feelings were hurt and she lashed out.

Nathan’s temper is apparently done with Lucas, as he tells him to Save It at the end of the scene. I want to say I’m living for it but Lucas hasn’t really...done anything wrong, so...it feels misplaced.

(I want to say something about the fans being divided and this feeling more like fanservice/an attempt to stir the pot than anything that makes any sense.)

Elizabeth goes on to spend a little time with Lucas and it was very cool to see his office for the first time ever! Also, “pardon my French” was actually pretty funny here.

Nathan wants to talk to Allie about the adoption ceremony catastrophe but is called away before they can sit down and talk, which Allie is...sad about...for some reason? I guess even if it’s negative attention it’s better than no attention? That seems in line with her age. Elizabeth comments to Lucas about feeling sorry for Allie and wanting to comfort her, but in my opinion this is kind of misplaced and Lucas points out that he doesn’t mind her sharing a friendship with Nathan, but that...he doesn’t think Nathan will settle for it.

I’d probably be against Lucas on this matter but I already know that Lucas is right. Elizabeth seems to not to want to believe that but...I dunno. Part of the problem is that in a town this size, it’s really hard to have space. She wants to forget Nathan and focus on Lucas, but she’s constantly seeing both Allie and Nathan, and that makes it hard.

Around dinnertime she goes to Lucas’s office and he begs off dinner because he’s just not in a good state of mind after the whole thing with Henry, and he also seems like he’s had a few drinks. She offers to let him sit with her and it’s...uh...very cozy (probably the closest two bodies have ever been to one another on this show, hahaha).

He says he doesn’t want to be impatient and that she should leave. Which she does.

Fanning herself.

The next morning, Nathan approaches Lucas at the oil derricks to tell him that he hasn’t given up on Elizabeth just yet, to which...Lucas says he can do whatever he wants, but he needs to make sure he has the best interests of Allie and Elizabeth in mind, not his own. Nathan tries to say something else to him and Lucas says, “Save it.”

Which is fair and valid. I’d respect it more if Nathan’s “save it” had felt more believable earlier, though.

Either way, I’m at a point in this series where I’m starting to think Nathan’s just being selfish. His writing took an absolute beating in this episode and this isn’t even the worst part!

Allie invites Elizabeth to dinner. I hated this scene mostly because I think it will only make the hatred for Allie worse. Team Lucas fans tend to hate her because she acts so unreasonably and this scene was the worst example of it so far. She’s a young teenage girl (13/14 years old I’d guess) but this childish illustration card? Is something a 9 year old might pull (circumstances considered).

I’d find it more plausible if we just had more time with Allie, but we get so little and everything we’ve been getting hasn’t felt...quite right to me lately. I could understand the whole “inviting only Elizabeth and Nathan” because that’s actually quite clever of her, and even funny. She’s young and doesn’t understand the...bigger picture, or the Adult Feelings involved. I’m fine with it. But this? Oh please. They’re not doing Allie any favors.

I think she could have done something else that was more in line with her age. It could still be cringey, but not...like this. I’m certain it was meant to be a sassy response to being scolded because neither of them were aware they were the only ones invited (and Allie’s hand-drawn invitation makes it clear they’re the only two invited lol), but...eh.

The very next scene is Elizabeth confronting Nathan, though, which I do appreciate. This thing with Allie is so far out of hand by this point that he needs to absolutely sit her down and have a VERY serious heart-to-heart. She’s hurting and it feels like nobody is telling her the right thing.

Just before the adoption ceremony Nathan told her that Elizabeth was seeing Mr. Bouchard and Allie complained but Nathan did a great job of telling her that they should be happy that Elizabeth is happy and I LOVED THAT. So why does it feel like he didn’t mean any of it? Why didn’t he confront any of the other things Allie is probably feeling?

Like, you know...that Elizabeth can still be her friend even if she’s seeing Mr. Bouchard?

Elizabeth asks Nathan for a word, and when she tells him that she wants to speak with Allie he tells her that Allie is home and is afraid to talk to Elizabeth without him being there.

She asks why Allie is afraid but the fanfare starts for Bill, and Nathan doesn’t want to be rude but Elizabeth insists on continuing their conversation.

Elizabeth tells him she was afraid it would happen if things didn’t work out between them.

Nathan says he doesn’t know what to tell her. He’s tried talking to Allie but nothing he says has convinced her that Elizabeth isn’t to blame. Elizabeth tells him that she thinks Allie should blame her because it’s Nathan she’s attached to/loves.

Their conversation is paused for a moment by Bill’s appearance but they pick right back up after Bill rides away on his horse. She says she tried to tell him at the parent/teacher conference that he is everything to Allie and he says he knows that, and that’s why he’s trying really hard not to show Elizabeth how he feels about her, and it’s why he turned down the promotion to inspector.

He wanted to leave but he couldn’t do it because Allie was so happy in Hope Valley. Elizabeth says that’s why they have to figure out how to make things okay again, because he said it himself, he stayed because Allie was happy!

He said, no, I said that was part of the reason.

And he looks away like he didn’t mean to say that, like in saying that, he’s said Too Much. And this isn’t about his feelings. This is...something else.

Elizabeth has suspected all along that he was hiding something and not telling her the whole truth about Fort Clay, but this behavior isn’t like him and she calls him out on it. She says she knows he’s hiding something and she wants to know what it is.

He tells her that at Fort Clay he was in charge of the training mission, not Jack. But he was disciplined for an earlier incident and they sent Jack instead. He says he’s sorry but there was never the right time to tell her.

The episode ends there.

I am...disappointed. I was hoping it would be something small that might have still weighed on his mind, like finding Jack’s body—having never met the man, having never known him, it would be so odd to know his wife and the home he loved but to have never known him. And to never really have a right to...ask about it either because it’s not your place.

But no, they really had to go there. They really had to make it like that. We’ve been guessing this since Nathan arrived in town as a possibility and I wish it had never happened.

I agree with all the people who think that there would be no point in the love triangle without Nathan being end-game, but ugh.

I’m fine with forgiveness and moving on, but back in S5 and S6 I made it very clear how I felt about the direction they were taking Abigail and Henry. For the purpose of clarification, Henry was actively awful (he was cruel to Abigail many times over and was part of the VERY DIRECT reason her husband and son died) and that was the biggest reason I opposed it. I think comparatively Nathan is harmless. But... I dunno.

It feels to me like they really want to tell that Type of story and...I’m not a fan. You can forgive someone without hooking up with them. In fact, that’s a way better moral to be dropping on this specific audience anyway.

I’m mostly disgusted at Nathan and have to now worry how they will write Lucas next to make sure he’s on equal ground. :(

Maybe Nathan’s posting in Hope Valley wasn’t out of guilt but the way he reacted to Elizabeth sure makes it seem like it was. Like he chose to come to Hope Valley to keep an eye on Jack’s family. And if it stayed at a friendship level I could respect it. I might even like it.

But... ugh. I mean, Nathan feels guilty. He knows his actions indirectly killed Jack. No, he is not to blame for it and I don’t think he blames himself—at least not in a traditional way. But the knowledge is there. He should have kept his feelings to himself. He should have NEVER decided he wasn’t going to give up on Elizabeth after she walked away from him. She didn’t say no but she shouldn’t have to.

So he knew he was indirectly responsible for Jack’s death and he still let himself tell Lucas he wasn’t giving up on her. What the hell?

I guess you can consider me #teamstaysingle now.

Bill’s Wounded Pride

This wasn’t a long or deep storyline but I wanted to dig into it a little bit since Bill’s my favorite character and all.

I really appreciate that they are giving Lee a chance to be a good listener. He got kind of overshadowed by Rosemary’s personality a bit in the past so it’s good to see a consistent show of it now. He’s so nice to Bill. I don’t feel like they’re great buds, but there’s a kind of...mutual respect there that has definitely been earned on both sides. Lee’s offer to listen to Bill vent was really nice.

After Bill goes off on Henry (sorta? barely?) Nathan calls Bill out for placing blame on Christopher by association of Henry, since he knows he and Henry have some bad blood between them.

But then Nathan kind of gets this self-righteous ramble about how maybe he’ll feel differently when he’s asked to hand in his serge, but it’s not helping Bill to prolong the process/put it off.

Which...while Nathan has a point, he’s just written throughout this entire episode like a selfish jerk. I get that he’s not that attached to his uniform (he’s younger, he’s willing to quit to settle down and marry), but you’d think he’d have a little sympathy for someone whose entire career was the Mounties and who is struggling to give up the last connection he has to that part of his life.

If Nathan was 18 or 19 I’d feel his reaction would be fully believable, but he’s probably in his 30s and should have a little more emotional maturity than this.

Again, yes, Bill should just get rid of the uniform and be done with it. But it’s not as if Bill doesn’t know that. He’s struggling! A word of encouragement might help more than telling him to rip the bandaid off. If he talked this way to Allie it’s no wonder she’s so messed up.

Later that morning, Molly greets Lee about the lumber shipment Carson ordered for the infirmary and Jesse is grumpy. She jokes that she’s dealing with that, too, but with Carson and Faith. Lee adds that Bill is also in a bad mood, because he has to turn in his uniform. They briefly discuss that nobody has ever seen him in uniform.

Lee tells Molly that she’s in charge of fixing everyone else’s problems and leaves.

The next day, Bill walks into Nathan’s office to see Molly spying on his stuff...

She claims she’s there to wish him a good trip and he says he’s not looking forward to riding all the way to Hamiliton. She mentions his uniform and he’s surprised she knows about it, but says only that “word gets around.”

Bill says yeah, well, he should have told them that if they want it so bad they should come and get it. Molly tells him that “rules and regulations can strip a man of his pride.” Which is. A weird line of dialogue but okay.

Bill tells her that it was a proud day when he put the uniform on—even though back then it didn’t have any of the decorations on it, of course. She says he must have felt ten feet tall he and replies with, “Ten years and three months.”

You know it meant a lot to him if he remembers the exact amount of years he wore the damn thing. Molly encourages him to try it on and he tries to excuse it by saying it doesn’t fit. She tells him he’s hard to read (probably because she thought he wanted the excuse to try it) but he’s “worth it, cover to cover.”

She goes on to say that “WE” know that turning it in means a great deal to him, so it means a great deal to his friends, too, and as he should know, the uniform doesn’t make the man.

She goes to leave and tells him it will definitely fit (HAHA maybe she was checking that while he was gone) and to do everyone a favor and put on a good show.

A short time later, Mike and a couple of others from town start playing some fanfare music outside the Mountie HQ and Bill emerges.

He’s touched by it, but also maybe a little confused lol, and asks them if they know that he’ll be right back.

And then...it’s off and away with Bill.

I’d have liked this storyline so much more if it felt...deeper? A little extra fanfare for him is nice, but it doesn’t really...deal with any of the emotions he feels. That said, I’m almost certain this is to get him to Hamilton where he might run into Christopher’s parents and/or hear more information about potential misdeeds of Christopher to move that plot along.

Miscellaneous Short Plots

FloYo: Florence and Ned were cute but I wish they hadn’t tried to do anything with it in this episode. We didn’t really need to see Ned being grumpy about things as a like...Moment. It just didn’t feel very meaningful even though they had that cutesy “nobody can replace you” resolution. This episode was a bit of a miss for them for me because of that. And hey, don’t get me wrong; I generally like them, but trying to make everything wholesome all the time gets draining and there was so much other stuff that felt more rewarding to me comparatively.

The Canfields: Very cute, good. I need to know what Joseph’s plans are. And Angela learning braille and being so sweet... AHHHHHH I LOVED HER.

Dress Shop: I’m disappointed they had this plotline drag out for episode after episode and then die out. I guess it could be interesting if they blew it wide open by Dottie selling it at the end of the season to someone unexpected, but what bored me about this was that nobody was that stressed out about the situation and nobody seemed relieved that Dottie wasn’t selling. I’ll hold out hope that something comes of it anyway.

Jesse: FINALLY. I appreciated that he and Mike got to talk. It explains where Jesse was all that time...and Mike is a good friend. I love him. I hope he gets more screentime next season because he honestly deserves it. Also, I’m glad Jesse went to talk to Clara and asked if they could sit and talk. SIT AND TALK. YES PLEASE. Thank you. It was a simple step forward but I really appreciate it. Also, the Canfields and Bill hightailing it out of there as soon as Jesse shows up...haha.

Infirmary: GOODBYE HAM SANDWICH CARSON. I mean... I’m of two minds. Expanding the infirmary would be a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little more room for patients that might need to recover for longer, and to have a little bit more privacy for them. On the other hand, Carson’s sudden lashing out against the Hope Valley infirmary is...odd. I loved how he and Faith both got so excited but for different reasons that culminated in a completely different mindset. You can tell Carson really wants to go to Boston but feels weird about it. I love Faith’s dedication to the town.

My brain feels dry and crusty after typing all this up, and I didn’t proofread it at all, so sorry in advance if there are any errors in it. As always, I’m looking forward to the drama next episode, particularly with Carson and Faith (BREAK UP BREAK UP BREAK UP).

I’m still kind of stunned they went the route they did. I find it hard to imagine that Elizabeth is capable of a choice within the next four episodes, but I guess we’ll have to see what’s in store for us.

Also, for a little laugh, my husband watched the full episode with me for the first time in a few seasons. He was pleasantly surprised by Angela Canfield and said that he liked “the property brother.” I think he’s #TeamLucas but he told me later last night that actually they’re both fine and he’d take either one for himself if the opportunity arose LMAO.

What are your thoughts on this episode? Opinions?

#when calls the heart #analysis and meta discussion #character studies and information

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hardman5509 · 4 years ago

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A Gift For Keine

@touhousecretsanta

Howdy there @kikuhan I’m your Touhou Secret Santa, and I got a story for ‘ya! This one goes around your request in a roundabout fashion, but I figured something different would be more interesting.

I don’t know much about PC-98 characters (outside of the obvious ones), so I stuck with the ones I knew about. Hope you enjoy it!

Living out in the middle out of nowhere did have a massive downside to that. Mokou didn't have money. She generally lived off things that she could find lying around...or stealing. She had a habit of stealing a whole lot, even more as of late due to the growing number of powerful individuals coming to Gensokyo. It seems like there's someone new coming in every other day.

Back on topic, Mokou didn't have any money of her own. And she wanted to get something for...that holiday...that green-haired girl that lived at that mountain shrine raved all about at this time of year. Christmas, right? It's weird, but people were getting into it. Even more with the humans. They loved it! They would gather around in the middle of the village, surrounding a large tree, and decorate it. They would also go out and give each other gifts...

And that's the part that has Mokou worried. No money, no gift. And she really wanted to pay Keine back.

It was Keine that introduced her to the holiday in the first place after all. Keine spent most of her time working with the humans, and while she did initially criticize the event, she did end up accepting it. Mokou had noticed it, along with Keine's own problems. Keine had been greatly affected by all of the new people that made Gensokyo their home, as that meant she would have to work longer and harder to protect the Humans. Whenever she came by to visit, Keine just seemed to be out of energy, always tense, and more ready to snap.

“Sorry.” Keine would then apologize. “It's just...”

Mokou knew that Keine really needed a break. And that would be impossible, Keine didn't really trust anyone that's not human. Mokou...technically still counts as one, but Keine just refused to allow her to take over. So getting her to take a break isn't going to be what Mokou is going to get her, she's going to get her a gift that would help Keine relax!

And in fact, that weirdo shopkeeper is selling something from the other world that might help with that. It's a machine that massages your feet; that sounded perfect for someone like Keine. Mokou puffed out her chest as she started to look around for somewhere she could get some money, and fast. The Human Village is out of the question however, she didn't want to tip Keine off to her plans. Shrine-duty isn't going to pay her anything, let alone if she decides to go and work with Reimu.

...so that left...

“Huh.” Eirin mused out as she looked over the annoyed-looking Mokou. “I guess I could pay you for help, but I'm more concerned that you will just start a fight with the princess...”

“I don't care about the princess, I just need the money.” Mokou interrupted. Eirin responded by tossing a pill that was nearby at Mokou's head. Mokou just let the tiny thing bounce off her forehead. “I need the money for a Christmas gift.”

“Really?” Eirin tilted her head. “Just a Christmas gift? Wouldn't you like to have money all the time? I mean, I could use some real help around here, and if you had more money, you could leave the forest behind...”

“Just a Christmas gift.”

“Okay.” Eirin grunted. “I guess if you just want some spending money, I can hire you on as a janitor.”

“Done, deal, where's the mop, I'll go ahead and clean up.” Mokou breathed out as she jumped up to her feet.

“I don't need anything cleaned right now.” Eirin followed suit. “When I ask for you...“

“Break-time? Break-time.” Mokou spoke out and pulled out one of the few things she has left, a pack of cigarettes. A commodity of the other world, and yet damn expensive here in Gensokyo. She's lucky to get even one packet like this and she had to trade some herbs she found in her part of her woods to get them...

And Eirin snatched them and then promptly tossed them into the trash bin. “You're working in a medical facility, smoking is only allowed outside.” Eirin told. Mokou almost felt tempted to go ahead and just leave...but it's either this or working at a shrine. And yet, the endless and repitive nature of shrine work would probably allow her to take a drag every now and then...

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Mokou had another surprise awaiting her when she went outside. Marisa! Mokou's entire body started to tense up upon seeing that walking bundle of chaos. Marisa waved. “Yo, firebug!”

“Hey.” Mokou replied as she looked away. “What brings you around these parts?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” Marisa wagged a finger at Mokou. “Isn't this the place you regularly trash in your eternal revenge against Princess Lazyass?”

Mokout did have to stifle a little laugh. That does accurately portray Kaguya. “Got a job here, janitorial. Need money, end of story.”

“Oh, really?” Marisa raised a eyebrow at that. “Same actually! I need some mad money for a little project coming up, and Eirin is hiring all sorts of people right now.” Marisa put her hands behind her back, starting to rock and back forth on her feet. “So, what did you have to bribe her with in order to get a job? I had to give away some of my best mushrooms.”

“I went in and asked.”

“Really?” Marisa groaned. “Just like that? I think I have just been bamboozled...” She paused for a second, before looking around the area that Eientei is situated in. The Bamboo Forest. Marisa pointed at a wall of bamboo and laughed, in the same manner as a little girl would have. Mokou pursed her lips and sat down on the steps. “C'mon, you have to admit that was kinda funny...”

“Sure, real riot.” Mokou sighed. “Look, I just want money for a Christmas gift. I don't want any trouble or shenanigans...”

“Doubtful you're going to be avoiding those, the latter sort.” Marisa pointed out. “Tewi has set traps everywhere. She might be setting them up right now as we speak. Probably putting around our main areas of work. We could be taking out the trash, and boom!” She made her hands flutter around. “Down we go into a traphole!”

“Pfft.” Mokou blew out. “I'm used to that little idiot's traps. If we just fly around, we can avoid her pitfalls.” Mokou did a little demonstration as she started to float up. “See? This will be easy...”

“Alright, we can totally do that.” Marisa nodded, pulling her broom out of nowhere. “Of course, with my broom, I can carry more than you can.” She tapped on the broom. “So, you feel like a little competition? I don't think that Eirin can pay us equally, so she's going to shell out the big bucks to the best worker...”

“I just need the money.” Mokou told, swiping her hands around in the air. “Even if you are paid twice of what I make, I don't care. Once I get enough to afford the item, I'm leaving.”

“C'mon...” Marisa cooed as she got right up next to Mokou. Mokou groaned and flinched at being so close towards Marisa. “Surely you got the spirit of competition about you. You are plenty fiery after all...” She bumped an elbow into Mokou's shoulder. Mokou let out a small snarl. “Don't you want to earn so much money at once that you can quit early?”

“Leave me be.” Mokou told as she gently pushed Marisa off to the side. Marisa took it well and giggled like the little imp she is. Mokou decided to take her break elsewhere, you know, anywhere that's not here. Mokou figured the best place to be would to be behind the big barn like building. Possibly the place that Eirin keeps all of her victims, the results of her experiments...or both!

Still, possibly a good and shady spot. Mokou walked on over to the barn and then down into a large pit. The mocking laughter of a little rabbit girl following soon after. Mokou just took a deep breath and focused on staying calm. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At least she got to work on the inside after that. Sweeping around, cleaning dishes, and properly cleaning up lab equipment is all boring work. But it keeps her away from Marisa, Kaguya isn't bugging her as she's sleeping off an all-nighter of games, and possibly from Tewi. No telling if Tewi has somehow managed to booby-trap the inside of Eientei, and the other people living here had jut gotten used to it and knew where the traps were.

Except Reisen. She never learned.

Mokou walked over the fallen Reisen and back into the main lab. “Swept all the dust away.” She told onto Eirin.

“Good, good.” Eirin sighed as she scrawled out a quick note. “Now, I got a important task for you.” She pulled out a wrapped package. “This is a easy one. I need you to deliver this to the Hakurei shrine. You should know where that is, right?” Mokou nodded. She had been there a few times before, and it's not like a hard place to find. It's just that nobody in the right mind would go and visit it without a decent reason to do so.

“So Reimu afforded something?” Mokou asked as she took the package in hand. She knew better to try and shake it.

“Oh no.” Eirin shook her head. “It's for Suika. She can actually afford me.”

“How?”

“I don't ask questions, and I accept payment first.” Eirin held up a finger. “Now, get going. I might not have a time limit on deliveries, but I am considering it in the future. So uphold my future reputation.”

Mokou sniffed as she exited out of the room with the package in hand. This should be easy. Just fly on out to the Hakurei Shrine, slap the package into Suika's face and get back to Eientei in time for payday. Hopefully payday and not more work. Mokou would like to get paid and leave. Still, this chore has to be more interesting and less annoying than menial labor, right?

“Hey, whatcha got there?”

Mokou groaned as she stepped away from a curious-looking Marisa. “Package. Special delivery. Need to get going.” She explained.

“What's inside, and who's it for?” Marisa questioned as she peered all around the package, somehow managing to keep up with Mokou moving it. “Hold on, I think I see a name...the shrine, huh?” Marisa's expression changed upon seeing the name of the location; going from curiosity to something like a blank stare. “What did Reimu order?”

“None of your business, got to go!” Mokou growled as she spun around, tucking the package underneath her armpit and scurrying on outside.

“Wait up!” Marisa called out, summoning her broom out of nowhere and starting to chase after Mokou. “If it's going to the shrine, you should let me do it! I know the people there a lot better than you! And I'm faster than you too...”

“Don't you got something else going on?” Mokou shouted back as she hopped off the stairs and took flight. “Like sweeping or something?”

“Oh, it's nothing! It can wait!” Marisa shouted back as she continued to give chase. She sounded actually concerned. That's a oddity to hear coming from Marisa. What about this package is so bloody important to her? Mokou would...not care to ask, nor really care about Marisa in the first place. Besides, if Marisa is so insistent on following her around, than that means she would most likely lose her job for abandoning her post...

...which will mean that Mokou will have more work to do. Oh dear.

“Hey Marisa!” Mokou called back, almost letting a little bit of panic enter into her voice. “If you get fired for following me around, than that means I will get the higher pay!”

“It's okay, it's okay!” Marisa called back. “I just think it's more important that I deliver this package, and hey, there's got to be more jobs for me out there! Really, just let me deliver the package to Reimu!” Marisa started to pick up speed, zooming dangerously close to Mokou's side. Mokou let out a sharp yelp as she quickly darted off to the side, heading back into the woods.

“All this over a package?” Mokou called out as she dipped around the various trees. “C'mon...”

Her little speech about why Marisa is throwing away her job was crudely interrupted by a even cruder trap. A log about the same size of Mokou came crashing right into her face. Mokou groaned as she fell down onto the floor of the forest into a crumpled mess, for all of a second right before she fell through the floor and into one of Tewi's pitfalls.

“Ohmygosh!” Marisa spat out as she safely landed next to the pitfall. “Is the package okay?” Mokou groaned and feebly held up the package, somehow remaining intact despite having been through three impacts. “Thank goodness!” Marisa chuckled as she took the package and soared up into the sky.

...oh right. Tewi. Everyone in Gensokyo can fly. Of course the trap-loving smart-ass would build trap in accordance with that specific trait. Why did Mokou assume that going through Tewi's stomping grounds would work out in her favor? She crawled out of the pit as fast as she could and started to go after Marisa. No doubt that Marisa would head in the direction of the shrine!

And this time she's going to avoid the forest entirely by flying over it.

“Shrine dead-ahead!” Marisa called out as she noticed the big and obvious shrine dead-ahead of her. “Alright shrine maiden, get ready to meet the sexiest, most brilliant, delivery-girl in all of Gensokyo!”

“Dead is correct!” Mokou snarled as she reached on out and grabbed Marisa by the shoulder, managing to toss the witch off her broom. “I'm not going to let you to get away with leaving me behind!”

“Woah!” Marisa shouted out as she did a barrel-roll around in the air, managing to readjust herself in the air. “Watch the package, watch the package!” Marisa shuddered as she clutched the package close to her chest as she rolled around in the air, hoping to somehow avoid Mokou coming after her. At least Mokou cannot bring out spellcards or her famous kicks without endangering the package.

“Just hand the package back to me!” Mokou shouted as she grabbed Marisa by the shoulders, intending to give Marisa a little demonstration of what falling to Earth feels like. Marisa screamed as the big green earth beneath her started to get bigger right before she impacted through the ground, leaving a Marisa-shaped crater in their wake.

“Mine, mine!” Mokou screamed as she wrestled the package out of Marisa's hands. “Now to complete the delivery...”

“Ahem.”

Mokou pulled herself out of the ground and found herself looking at the shoes of someone stomping said shoes against the ground. “I believe you just marred my grounds...” The person spoke, while rapping a certain wooden stick against the palm of their open hand.

“Ah.” Was the last thing that Mokou got to say before she canned in the head by a big orb with the Yin-Yang symbol on it.

“Oh, Reimu!” Marisa waved out of the hole as Reimu dragged the now unconscious Mokou out of the Marisa hole, allowing Marisa to drag herself out of it. “I got a package here for you...”

“Didn't order anything.” Reimu told as she let Mokou flop on down to more solid ground. “You sure you were supposed to deliver to me?” Marisa pointed to the package, still wrapped up in Mokou's hands. Reimu went on over and gently tugged it out of Mokou's clutches. “Huh, it is for the shrine...”

“Hey, my thingie arrived!” Suika cheered out as she came out of nowhere and took the package. “About time too...” She looked around, noticing both Reimu and Marisa. “Hey, now, this is a surprise...” She giggled out as clutched the package close to her chest. “You gots to wait for it, Rei...”

“What is she on about?” Reimu questioned.

“Wish I knew.” Marisa shrugged. “Hey, Reimu...” Marisa put her hands behind her back and stood right besides Reimu. “You got a nice...haircut? Right?”

“Marisa.” Reimu firmly stated.

“Hey, just making small talk.” Marisa held up her hands. “I best return to my work, along with my...” She strolled on over to the still unconscious Mokou and managed to hoist her on up onto he shoulder. “Co-worker here...”

“I hope you two are willing to come on back here and fix the damage...”

“Her, not so much. Me?” Marisa put her fee hand onto her chest. “Absolutely! Later Reimu!” Marisa whistled, and her broom suddenly zoomed on over to her, where she threw Mokou onto the broom and then she flew off. Reimu shook her head as she watched Marisa fly off. Besides the obvious wishes of Marisa not stealing stuff and her not destroying property, Reimu just wished that Marisa would just go ahead and confess her love.

When even Cirno can recognize it, you know you got some serious issues. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Package delivered madam!” Marisa saluted, with the still dazed Mokou doing the same.

“I recall only sending one of you to go and deliver it...” Eirin commented on. “But as long as you did your chores on the outside, I don't mind if you go together...”

“Oh those.” Marisa shrugged. “They could wait...”

“Marisa.” Eirin firmly interrupted, her eyes going a bit wide. “I asked you to go and dispose of some chemical waste...you did go and did that, right...?”

“MISS, THERE'S A GIANT SLIME MONSTER OUTSIDE AND IT WANTS TO EAT ME!”

“Marisa, you're fired.” Eirin pointed towards Marisa. “Help me kill the slime monster and I'll at least pay you. Mokou, help me kill it and you can keep your job.”

“Guess I don't have much of a choice here.” Marisa shrugged. She pulled out of her Mini-Hakkero, giggled exactly like the mad woman she is, and ran outside, accidentally smacking Mokou in the face. This at least got Mokou to return to being mostly 'sane'. Eirin clapped her hands, and that got Mokou to scramble on outside.

As the three got outside, they found Reisen being pummeled around by a giant slime monster. It had wrapped a tentacle around Reisen's waist and is now treating her like a hammer and there's nails everywhere that needed to punched in. Reisen's usual sort of moans and groans echoed throughout the area.

“We need to stop the creature before it escapes out of the forest.” Eirin told as she notched an arrow into her bow. “Lethal measures permitted, just try to avoid damaging Eientei.”

“MISS!” Reisen cried out as she got, rather luckily, tossed aside by the creature. Extra lucky that she got sent through the roof of Eientei, and not into the bamboo forest where she could have been impaled by the bamboo or land into a nest of some nasty creature that would have stung her a million times. Kaguya, on the other hand, will just pelt her with a newspaper a dozen times.

“I'll give it a nice bath, with my magic! Master Spark!” She fired off her trademark (stolen) attack right at the center of the mass, causing the slime to bubble and boil, but remain still. “Hey, now it smells awful!” Marisa groaned as she had to stop attacking to press on her nose.

“It's made out of various amounts of chemical waste that came from my results in my lab experiments.” Eirin groaned as she fired off an arrow, aiming at where she noticed the biggest globs of concentration within the slime, assuming it to be the nucleus of the being. The arrow didn't even make it halfway through it before the slime dissolved it. “So don't burn it! The fumes coming off it would be toxic to even youkai!”

Mokou looked down to see her hands a-flamed. “Welp, might as well take a break then...” She sighed before Eirin put a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her from going anywhere. “What, you want me to kick it?”

“Better than nothing!” Eirin motioned her head on over to the slime, with Marisa flying around it and hitting it with non-hot lasers. She didn't look to be having much fun. “If you and Marisa can punch a hole into it, leading to that big discolored blob in the middle, I can hit it with an arrow and kill it!”

“Oh, eew...” Mokou sighed. “Fine. But I am getting paid for this right?”

“Well, this is part of your job, cleaning up messes, ain't it?” Eirin chuckled as she notched another arrow. “Just get me to the core!” Mokou nodded as she ran forward to the really foul looking monster. She figured a little fire wouldn't hurt anything, just as long as she keeps it concentrated into a single kick. Just enough to give the kick a little more kick...

Great, now she sounds like Marisa.

Spinning around, and with fire surrounding her right leg, Mokou kicked through the slime. “That's it!” Eirin told. “Almost there...”

“Let me finish this in style!” Marisa called out as she zipped on down to Mokou's level and unleashed another powerful beam, aiming where Mokou had kicked in before. It did punch through a little bit more, but then Mokou and Eirin noticed the smoke coming from the gap...

“Marisa?” Eirin coughed out. “Did I tell you to not use fire?”

“I thought it would be...” Marisa coughed in return. “...fine, now...”

“How...” Mokou hacked out. “...did you get to live this long?”

“Well...” Marisa giggled, throwing in a small cough. “Good luck, good friends and good looks mostly...”

“Ugh!” Eirin grunted as she pulled a gas mask out of her pouch and slapped it onto her face. “I should just bought the mushroom off you!”

“Wait, what?” Marisa asked, her voice now clear of any congestion. “I could have gotten more?”

“I only agreed to let you have the job as it would be easier to keep you around than have you run around as free as you want!” Eirin told as she grabbed a second mask and slapped it onto the reeling Mokou. “Plus it would cost me less to pay you a minimum wage than to pay out for that rare mushroom!”

“Well, I don't feel like helping you out anymore.” Marisa crossed her arms. “Seeing how now you owe me a greater deal of mon...”

The slime monster decided to go for the easier target of the standing witch and continue its favorite game of 'hammer girl'. Bad sexual innuendo aside, Marisa got the usual Reisen treatment and got pummeled around for a bit before being sent flying off. Unlike Reisen however, Marisa actually remembered she could fly and managed to tuck herself into recovering in the air.

“Hey, I ain't no comic relief character!” Marisa groaned. “That's it, you want some real power?” She pulled out her Mini-Hakkero and aimed it down towards the slimeball. “How about a real big Master Spark?” Energy started to gather around into the mini-generator, making the air buzz with heat “I'll eradicate you with one good shot, 'ze jerk!”

“We should run.” Mokou thumbed behind her.

“I don't think that's going to help much...” Eirin sighed.

“LOVE SIGN: MASTER SPARK!” Marisa shouted, unleashing a full strength blast of rainbow energy out of her hands, with the creature caught right in the middle of the explosion. Good news? The beam nor the shockwave of it ended up damaging Eientei, and hey, it destroyed the slime creature. Bad news is that instead of disintegrating the creature, it splattered gloriously and gore-ly all over Eientei.

“On second thought, you were right.” Eirin remarked as took off her gas-mask. At least that prevented her from getting gunk in her mouth. “Where's Marisa now?”

“Running off.” Mokou told as she looked up, seeing Marisa quickly darting away.

“Oh well, don't have to pay her then.” Eirin shrugged. “Tell you what.” She pointed on over to Mokou. “Clean this up and I'll double...”

“Triple.”

“Triple your payment.” Eirin sniffed as she swiped her hands of the goo, sending it flying on over to Mokou's face. “See you in about three hours.” Eirin groaned as she went back inside.

Mokou looked all over the area. The slime is covering everything. And she meant everything. The trees, the bamboo, the roof, the side of the building, the floor, her and the returning Reisen. She just groaned and went back inside. Mokou wondered if she could possibly burn the slime away, but being someone with a brain, she remembered that the slime would produce some toxic fumes if she tried to burn it.

She located the mop and water bucket. It too was covered in slime.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took six hours, but Mokou had managed to clean up most of the slime. At least all of the stuff that's within general view. Surely the scant amounts of slime wouldn't turn into anything. They would just fade away at some point. Mokou got her tripled payment and got away from that crazy place. She didn't want to stick any longer than she had to. No telling what would happen next. There could be a explosion, someone from the moon...

She got the money, she got what she came for, time to get that gift (and some smokes now that she had some money to spend) and wait for Christmas day. This gave Mokou time to really calm down after all of that crazy nonsense that had gone down at Eientei. And then came...

Christmas time! Snow had started to fall, people were wearing all sorts of festive wear that made Mokou's eyes hurt a bit, and Keine could finally get a break from teaching/defending the humans to relax. The perfect time to present her gift! Mokou ran on over to Keine's house with the package in hand.

“Yo, Keine!” Greeted Mokou as she just invited herself in.

“I would appreciate if you would at least knock first.” Keine sighed as she put down her pen. “So, what's up?”

“I got a gift for you!” Mokou told as she held out her wrapped-up gift. “I worked hard for it.”

“Oh, Mokou...” Keine immediately relaxed and put a hand on her chest as she saw the crudely-wrapped up gift. “You really got this for me? That's so sweet, but you really didn't have to...”

“Nah I wanted to.” Mokou shook her head. “You work so hard for...peanuts? That's the word they use, right? What I mean you do a lot for little...”

“It's only right I chose this life.” Keine sighed as she stood up. “Because someone has to.”

“And because you don't trust anyone else to do it?”

“Look, I keep on seeing other powerful people squander what they have on such...ridiculous things.” Keine sniffed. “Reimu would rather sit around the shrine all day and invite in youkai than to tend the needs of humans. Marisa does her own thing all the time. And I do not dare to ask of the youkai or the other individuals affiliated with youkai...”

“Like Sakuya?”

“Her loyalty to her mistress means that she will prioritize gathering of blood over protection.” Keine scoffed. “There's just not so many people around that I can entrust the protection of humans over.”

“Then why not me?” Mokou asked holding the present close to her chest. “My immortality means I can keep it going for a long time...” She drew in a long breath as she ended up stumbling around with her words. “Well...” She breathed out. “You know. That thing.”

“It is something that I will not ask of you.” Keine shook her head. “Maybe once I do pass away, but while I live, it is my burden. Asking a friend, let alone you, is not something I can ask of you.”

“Let alone?”

“Oh, you know...” Keine chuckled as she looked away rather shyly. “Someone...like you. Someone to enjoy Christmas with.” She walked on over to a mini-icebox, opened it up, and pulled out a bottle of what looked to be a good vintage of sake. “So, how about it? You want to spend a night with me? Just you, me and this bottle of sake?”

“Yeah...yeah.” Mokou sighed. “That would be great. I got nothing else going on...”

Keine breathed out as she went on over to her couch, sake in hand. She sat down and patted the seat next to her. Mokou put a small smile as she sat on down right next to Keine. Mokou wasn't ready for the next bit of Keine resting her head onto her shoulder. Mokou's cheeks flared up and she felt the need to play with her collar. Room got a bit too hot for her liking.

“Oh yeah.” Mokou found a small way out of this. “Your gift. You wanna open it?”

“Might as well!” Keine giggled as she took the gift and tore through it.

“So you like it? It can massage you, so you can...”

“Eeerr, Mokou? This is a massager...”

“Something wrong? Not the right size for you?”

“No, you see...this is for adult use.”

“But you are an adult.”

“...private adult time.”

“Oh. Oh.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Merry Christmas Reimu!”

“I don't celebrate it.”

“I got you something for free, ze?”

“Ah. So you did.”

“Really awesome, isn't it?”

“I don't know, Suika got me the same thing as well.”

“Oh.”

“...look, if you want to bang, just ask nicely.”

“Ah.”

#touhousecretsanta #keine kamishirasawa #fujiwara no mokou #marisa kirisame #suika ibuki

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lezliefaithwade · 4 years ago

Text

A Christmas Story

A few Christmases ago, when in Paris, I happened to become friends with a homeless gentleman who frequented the corner at the end of my street. He sat upon a shocking pink suitcase with his little dog, Lucky, curled up at his feet and wished everyone who passed by a heartfelt “bonne journée.”

He never asked for money. Not once. He never scorned those who scoffed or worse judged. He simply smiled and greeted every passerby with a sincere greeting of goodwill. I’d been warned repeatedly about beggars in Paris. “Charlatans,” people said, “they’ll take everything you own if you let them.” So, when I first encountered Nichola, I hurried by shunning eye contact and willing myself NOT to look at the dog. I can turn a blind eye like the rest of us to things too uncomfortable to deal with and reasoned that since this was my first visit to Europe, I deserved a break from routine considerations. But no matter how much I wished I could ignore them, they were always there, as constant as the Eiffel Tower. After a few days, it became impossible, and frankly tiresome, avoiding him. I began to observe how kind he seemed. Children, in particular, loved Lucky and were always feeding him from the small market at the corner. On the fourth night of my stay, I happened to be returning from a concert at the Chapel in Versailles. Intoxicated by the music of Faure, I was in a particularly good mood when I noticed Nichola and Lucky asleep on the street. It was cold that night and a light wet snow had fallen so they were huddled on a grate for warmth upon the wet pavement. My heart cracked. I made my way to the apartment I was staying in around the corner on Duvivier and laying on my bed, stared at the ceiling unable to sleep. I had no idea how I could help or what comfort I could offer, but pretending they didn’t exist was now impossible.

If you learn one thing in Paris it’s about man’s inhumanity to man. Art galleries, of which there are a plethora, boast painting after painting of retribution, judgment, mercy, benevolence, and grace. Who knows more about these things than artists? The lesson from nearly every painting is how downtrodden the poor are, how much God loves the unfortunate, and the cautionary tale of revolt. No matter where I went, or what I saw, it was always Nichola and the dog. Van Gogh stared at me from his self-portrait and whispered, “What are you going to do about Nichola and the dog?” The Raft of Medusa by Théodore Géricault became a depiction of the homeless people piled on a barge with nowhere to go. Gustave Courbet’s self-portrait with a dog was none other than Nichola himself with Lucky tucked into his side. And no, it wasn’t lost on me that Nichola (namesake of Christmas) was sleeping on St. Dominque street. Dominique - the patron saint of astronomers; a man who selected the worst accommodations and the meanest clothes, and never allowed himself the luxury of a bed. What was the universe trying to tell me?

The following morning, I had breakfast with Nichola and Lucky. I brought croissants, dog food, and coffee, and for an hour I sat cross-legged on the sidewalk as we made our first attempt to converse. My French is, très mauvais, which didn’t matter as I soon discovered that Nichola's native tongue was Romani. With the help of a translation app, I learned that Romania and Bulgaria, where the majority of Roma originate, became full members of the European Union in 2007. But “transitional arrangements” in their accession to the EU mean that citizens of these former communist bloc states did not enjoy complete freedom of employment in France until December 31, 2013. Even now only certain Roma are able to be hired for certain work. He showed me a photograph of his daughter in Czechoslovakia and he gleaned that I was in theatre visiting Paris on a bursary I’d won from the Stratford Festival. Breakfast over, I waved goodbye and headed to D’Orsay or Versailles, or the Louvre, but I always came back to Nichola and Lucky for dinner between 5:30 – 6:00. On nights when the weather was bad, I gave him money for a shelter or would return home to find that he’d already earned enough for a bed somewhere. Those nights I slept better than others. Nights when I knew he wasn’t on the street, I imagined (probably somewhat naively) that he and the dog were at least safe.

It occurred to me that it was possible I was being bamboozled. It’s conceivable that my friend had a stash of money somewhere, coaxed from emotional tourists like me. Truth be told, nothing would have pleased me more than to find out that Nichola had a fine apartment in a good arrondissement and dined well with Lucky curled up on Egyptian cotton sheets. If I was being fleeced then so be it. Anyone who begs deserves money, as far as I’m concerned. It’s not a noble profession. It’s not gratifying. It’s demoralizing, tedious, work brought to light even more so during the holiday season.

What is it about Christmas that always brings us back to the issue of money? We spend so much on the creature comforts of the season, investing in commercialism and forgetting that the whole Christmas story revolves around a couple about to give birth with no roof over their head. And how often do we watch A Christmas Carol forever reminded that Ebenezer Scrooge’s relationship with money makes him as hollow as the apartments he keeps: void of life and colour. The first time I saw A Christmas Carol I was terrified. (I’m referring in particular to the black and white Alistair Sim version) Marley’s ghost in particular haunted, not only Scrooge but me for days afterward. I half expected to see the shimmering outline of some long lost relative at the end of my bed reprimanding me for stealing cookies or stepping on flowers. In my childlike brain, Marley and Santa Claus merged into some kind of specter sent to judge whether I’d been good, or not. I was forever trying to figure out how good was good? How bad was bad? If found wanting, would I be sentenced to walk the earth with the chains I’d forged? Even as a child I imagined the cord was extensive. I marveled at Charles Dicken's imagination. I didn’t believe Ebenezer Scrooge was real. No one, I reasoned, was that stingy or that greedy; but over time I’ve met a lot of Scrooges and I’ll bet you have too. We use money to ascertain a person’s value and to hold sway over others. It’s the most mysterious entity because it’s only valuable if we think it is. I learned this lesson long ago when studying in New York. I happened to hand a Canadian quarter to a subway attendant who shoved it back at me saying, “I can’t take your funny money.” Perfectly good in one place and absolutely worthless somewhere else.

It’s embarrassing asking for money when you need it and difficult for people being asked. I know a lot about this awkward relationship with money. My father, for a time, was a bank manager and finances were something we simply did not discuss. Not ever. To borrow, even a few hundred dollars was unheard of. Worse, in my family, you were shamed for asking. And if anyone took pity on you with a few bucks here or there, it was always accompanied with the directive, “…don’t tell your mother, or brother, or step-mother.” It was even worse being in the arts, a profession that carried with it the stigma of irresponsibility. The only exception I knew of was my Nana on my Mother’s side who loved nothing more than to give people things. I inherited this one trait from her. Money has never been something I hoarded (probably to my demise). Instead, I’ve seen it as simply an opportunity to help. In Paris, I became the newly converted Ebenezer Scrooge. Instead of eating at the most expensive restaurant, I ate at moderately fine establishments and saved the difference for Nichola. I bought day-old croissants and gave the difference I saved to Nichola. And when my departure date drew near I bought him a care package of food, blankets, socks, dog food, and treats.

My last night in Paris, I met a friend for a quick coffee and found myself getting emotional as I talked about the street beggars. Could it be that in getting to know Nichola, I realized that so much of my life was about luck? I live in a town where it’s not unheard of for people to have more than one home, and there was a perfectly nice person living on the streets. Our lives are so vastly different, our circumstances so varied simply for the fact of our birth. There but for the grace of God…

When my friend and I parted I made my way in the dark to Notre Dame and listened to a Christmas concert in an overflowing cathedral filled to the brim with parents and children all there to sing Sante Maria and Joy to the World. How fortunate for me that I was able to experience Notre Dame before the fire. Even an atheist would be hard-pressed to admit that there wasn’t something spiritual about that cathedral. And sitting there amongst the Parisians I felt a kind of peace. “What will happen to Nichola?” I asked the rafters and what came back was the sound of children singing:

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing o'er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their joyous strains

Gloria, in Excelsis Deo

Gloria, in excelsis Deo

As I was walked home after the concert I happened by the famous bookstore: Shakespeare & Co. and was stopped in my tracks by the store’s motto, "Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers Lest They Be Angels in Disguise."

That night I wrote a letter to Nichola and left him enough money for him and his dog to return to his daughter. I sealed the envelope and, in the morning, before I left for the airport, I gave it to him.

I mention this, dear reader, not to draw any attention on me whatsoever. It’s our job to help our fellow man…at least Charles Dickens thought so when he penned,

“At this festive time of the year… it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at present. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts.”

Three months later, I received a letter from Czechoslovakia. Enclosed was a thank you and photos of Lucky, Nichola, and his daughter in the backyard of a home set against the hills.

If I can help someone, then so can you.

#Christmas Paris Christmas story Homeless

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yourfriendlysummoner · 4 years ago

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Analyses of Inspector Thauvin chapter 1: Harsh Glances, Proof of Worth

Noxus. A mighty and fearsome expanding Empire that is never satisfied of its hunger for more power and lands. This desire can be extinguished by the great Trifarian Legion, an unstoppable and dedicated army that spreads rampage on its path.

But, like every regime, Noxus has its weaknesses. There are threats from the inside that can ruin everything in a heartbeat with any tragic mistake the Grand General can make. And because he has foreseen it – like everything after all – he has taken his very drastic measures to combat the possible treason from faces that wear invisible masks…

~~~

“It’s him, step aside!” One of the guards whispered nervously to his companion to the sight of the new superweapon Swain hired for his mysterious plans and military success.

The soldiers stared with faces that betrayed their fear for the unknown, their teeth were almost showing in fear and instinct to put the tail between the legs.

A quiet, almost unnoticed scoff could be heard. It couldn’t remain hidden. It shouldn’t. They are Noxian soldiers that have seen so many battlefields that something like that shouldn’t bother their eyes so much…

“G- Grand General! Your weapon is here…”

“Excellent. Bring him in.”

“Move it!” The guard yelled with the most nervous voice he had ever heard, as he shoved his axe threateningly at his direction. The uniquely for the Noxian standards armed man tried to hold his mocking smile. The bloke was too desperate to show his rank superiority, and it was something utterly futile.

He held his smile for the very special moment of standing in front of the Grand General himself, in his own noble mansion.

“You must be Inspector Beau Thauvin.” Swain sounded very sophisticated as he asked.

“In flesh and bone, your weapon is here. At your mighty will, Grand General.” Inspector Thauvin is rarely the one that will talk big and fanfaring words, its other people that will usually flatter him unnecessarily. But, this time he decided to allow a change.

“I cannot hide my enthusiasm that you honour us with your services, Inspector.” Indeed, Swain’s boring, merry impatience couldn’t hide deep behind his aged and refined facial features.

“I can see it…” Thauvin didn’t hesitate to intensify his remarkable unimpression in his aristocratic leader face. Risky, but that’s him, either you like it or not.

Swain shook his head and raised his brows in neutral shock the Inspector’s behaviour caused, but soon his expression changed dramatically to being more interested. He stroked his chin with a stoic face. “You have the privilege to determine when do you wish to start your work, since it is you–”

“Right now.” The robotic determination of his clear and silvery voice cut Swain’s easiness in pieces, along with his intendedly causal phrase.

Don’t try to be at ease with me, General!…

Jericho’s breathe was cut and hitched to the sharp suggestion, if you want, that the man voiced. He froze for several second clusters, but it was enough to get noticed by the sly agent’s eye.

He cleared his throat. “Very well,” He drowned his uneasiness. “You have to know, however, that my bidding is never built on a silky, straight road, Inspector…”

“If this really was a threat, m’ Lord, then I’m deeply sorry, because, for your information, I never apply for a task that is easy. I don’t play the dolls, and I seek to be effective to the common cause I eventually share with my employer.” His eyes were shining threatening bravery and fatal truth. His arms audaciously folded close to his chest, after his rudely bold words towards the very first man of Noxus…

Well, this wasn’t really wise of him to do. But he knows. He never lets uncalculated actions pass, and knowing his necessity and utility to Noxus, Swain would never had the guts to risk the Inspector’s safety for his pride.

“Whatever, Thauvin…” His sharp tone indicated his very restrained attempt to hide his lost patience. “Shall we move to the main reason you are here then?” Thauvin laughed so hard in his head with how hurt Swains good intention to be polite was, but outside he looked stern and imperious to the simplest and humblest way.

“That’s why I’m here, Grand General. Move on, then.”

Swain calmed his tension down with a deep breath before moving on to explaining his first mission as an agent of Noxus.

“Since you have lived by us for quite a while, you have probably heard of or seen with your eyes the occupied by deviant protesters north-eastern suburban territory.” Swain explained.

“Have heard of it.”

“It’s a pain in the arse the recent weeks!” Swain’s voice cracked with laughter. “Counsellor Darius’ Trifarian Legion is off to occupation missions, and my capital patrols are pretty inefficient against the savage brutes.” Noble opponents of the Trifarix are a bit more easily controlled in the Empire than openly protesting savage brutes.

“I understand.” That is all he had to say.

“Don’t you have anything to add?”

“Not really. Can I have some of your inefficient patrols?”

Swain raised an eyebrow.

~~~

“What is the plan, Inspector?” The patrol’s commander asked. These soldiers where more civilized than the guards of Swain’s mansion. Beau liked that.

He didn’t answer him immediately. He had to first spectate the situation by himself. That was exactly what he expected: an angered handful of folks gathered in a group, united like a fist and overly concentrated to their pitiful riot.

“Inspector?…” The soldier repeated, this time seemingly hesitating to do so, but impatient for an answer as well. Weak minds…

“The plan is the following: you go and trap them into a circle made of your unit’s men.”

“B- but, Inspector? Our unit can easily be decimated by these angry people! I- I mean, these treacherous dogs!!” His voice was so nervous in fear of having sounded more compassionate than he should be, he almost bit his tongue. Thauvin really has his time in that city, very fun idiots to work with. A shame he can’t show it, sacrificing his urge to laugh on their faces to professionalism.

“You didn’t let me finish.” The rudeness in his phrase didn’t drown in his sternness’ deep bottom. Instead, it floated on its surface, seemingly shaming the commander.

Beau broke the silence again, with his more defined explanations of his plan. “Your circle is going to both trap them and bamboozle them. Here I have a paralyzing detonator that will make them have some sweet dreams for a good while, allowing us to disarm them and send them to the justice they deserve without killing them. This is for the Grand General to decide. They are simple citizens after all. But: be careful not to stand too close to the area the detonator will affect, otherwise you’ll get electrocuted as well. Five feet are a good distance to keep from my target. Was I well understood?”

He always uses his charisma in leadership in his tone, combining it with his influencing and confident body language, while at the same time being extremely simple and direct, so he is easily understood. Perfect, as he always aims to achieve by practicing his profession.

And as he predicted, everyone said no more. A positive nod was enough to pass into action.

However, predictions always have their holes…

“I don’t think it will work.” A young man, at least in his early twenties, voiced with pure audacity and steadiness in his voice.

Thauvin looked at him with serious, half – closed eyes of caustic humiliation.

Silence. Many of the soldiers turned to each other with confusion and a chilling but suppressed fear.

“And who are you to determine it, o genius from nowhere?” He asked, faking suspicion in his tone.

“I’m Tommy Brant, sir! Co – commander of the Capital Patrol!” The boy stood straight with too much pride filling his lungs…

“Interesting… And how someone as young as you gained such a high rank in this armed force?”

“I—”

“He has just returned from the Tokogol fort, sir, one of the best soldiers that got this promotion as a reward!” A woman answered nervously instead of Brant. Her name was Myriam Cole, Captain of the Patrol.

“Hmm… Weird reward. Oh, and I was asking him not you.” His harsh glance made her look down to her feet in shame.

“Yes, sir…”

“What was I saying? Oh, yeah. You shouldn’t question me, Co – commander Brant. And you really can’t, since Commander Achim here takes my orders today.”

The young soldier prepared himself to talk back, but Thauvin’s collected voice was faster than his.

“With my signal! Ready!…”

The anticipation and worry about failure had filled their hearts. This was probably the riskiest strategy they had ever faced in their lives. Some even though that the Grand General was very desperate to hire such a mad guy to lead them, but obviously kept them for themselves, a thought that should never be revealed for their sake…

Nevertheless, they tried their best to have bodies and minds alarmed for the signal and therefore the action.

Foreheads wet in sweat, breathes hitched, weapons grasped in fists…

But most importantly…

“Go!”

And the mission started. The soldiers ran as fast as possible, choosing paths behind buildings to go unnoticed by the crowd in the square of the north–eastern suburbs.

Thauvin used his long-range binoculars to spectate. He let a small, crooked smirk on his lips, in approval of their clever action. At this rate, no one would get fatally hurt. They weren’t that stupid then…

Enough about the police though. He had to think about his own part as well. The easy stuff. He used his Hextech jet boots to reach the target faster. He jumped on a balcony with the boost of his jets, so he could have a better view of the situation.

He reactivated his binoculars, this time on sniper mode. With the help of his precise rifle, designed by himself to be foolproof like a preying vulture, he would shoot his detonator at the protesters.

Meanwhile, down there the nervous Patrol Unit soldiers were ponting their axes and swords at the people they had trapped – that seemed to be the case. The angry citizens yelled at them, cursed Noxus, demanded more rights and freedom, threatened to attack them and even spat on their faces.

Brant wiped spit from his eye and yelled for order nervously. Some others, more brutal and experienced went farther than just a harmless threat, even on unarmed protesters.

“I should make this quick or it will turn to be a tragedy. I won’t tolerate making a bad name of myself…” Beau’s voice sounded quite at ease, despite the pressuring time that threatened his plan tremendously…

He just stood there, placing his feet steadily on the narrow surface of the balcony’s railing, and aimed with concentration at the rioters…

Steady….

The situation was about to worsen at the square. Someone could be heard warning that he’d light a fire to burn the statue of some forgotten warlord very few speak of nowadays. This wasn’t good, Thauvin thought. He had to act quickly, so that he wouldn’t lose his unit to a bunch of random people that disliked their country…

His earpiece was unfortunately connected to the commanders, to be able to have control of the situation in all the possible senses. “What takes you so long, Inspector!?!”

“Shut the hell up and let me concentrate, do your job, Commander!”

“Whatever, be quick, they are trying to-“

“Much better.” He smiled at himself for deactivating the earpiece and turned to his target with the greatest focus possible. Let’s end this quick…

It all depended on a press of his trigger, lucky for them, it had to be his.

One last deep breath and the missile went to find its target on the ground. The force that was created by the shot threw Thauvin inside the balcony, causing him to reflexively backflip and accidentally break the window with his heavy equipment.

He swore under his breath as he shook his head to ease the bodily shock. As he turned his head to witness the damage he caused, he faced a scared woman in her nightdress and facemask.

“M’ lady? Don’t worry about this mess, I’m paying for it. Oh, almost forgot this.” He pressed a button on his modified ATLAS glove and a bright blue light could be seen from the square, accompanied by a considerably loud noise.

He smirked. “Finally, I started getting bored of this.”

“H- he… Actually did this…” The Commander said in his relieved breath, and almost passed out of shock.

The other soldiers cheered and thanked the gods for surviving this craze. But the three in command still quietly questioned Thauvin’s method, even after observing the paralysing detonator electrocute the protesters that fainted right away in front of their eyes.

However, some reckless and ignorant soldiers were affected as well, as a result of not keeping the right distance like the Inspector warned… “His crazy plans will kill us all! Imagine going on the first mission with someone so popular of his kind and getting blasted men in the process!” Commander Achim exclaimed at Cole and Brant.

“I honestly don’t understand what the Grand General had in his mind when he hired that madman…” Brant touched his chin. His gaze on the ground betrayed his insecurities.

“Whatever he is up to, we must

“Whatever he is up to, we must remain quiet. Any reckless move and we lose our power. Both of you, remember that you are not on top of this anymore.” Cole’s voice sounded sharp and plain, indicating that she was completely serious and plain, indicating that she was very serious.

The two men nodded with clear dysphoria, but as much as they hated to admit it, she was right…

~~~

Swain was more than pleased to observe on his balcony all of the protester’s hands bound with cuffs behind their backs and lead in a line to jail by the Patrol Unit. He lowered his telescope and smiled at Thauvin that stood at attention behind him. “Congratulations, Inspector!

“You promised difficulty.” He faked serious disappointment to bluff, once again interrupting his sentence.

The Grand General almost held his breath. Then a sigh followed. “Not your level, I suppose…” His husky voice was quiet. “Never mind, you won’t get away with so relaxing missions, I assure you… Dismissed…”

Thauvin nodded and left his quarters with his hands clasped behind his back. He surely expected something actually difficult, but kept that day’s event in the back of his head nonetheless…

#league of legends #fanfiction #noxus #jericho swain #original character #tag:#analysesITH #katrin writes #my fic

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fantasynovelwriter85 · 5 years ago

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Modern Art Satire

I was an art major before I became an English major. In one of my classes, I learned many sculptors come up with an idea and hire someone else to execute it.

I told my professor, “coming up with an idea doesn't make you an artist. It's coming up with the idea and having the skill to carry out the idea to completion that makes you an artist.”

I am not even going to start talking about the artist who take other people’s trash, put it in piles and call it art. I think several artists came up with a conspiracy. This is how I imagine it went down:

Three modern artists were sitting in the living room of a large country manor in England. Marcel Duchamp was standing by the fireplace and he turned to Damien Hirst and said, “Being an artist doesn’t pay well. Can you think of any way we could make more money?”

Sue Webster jumped out of her chair. “I just had an amazing idea. Why don't you sign your name on the commode sitting in your field, call it art and see if you can get museums to pay you to display it.”

“Excuse me Sue,” Damien interjected, “Marcel was talking to me. Also, that’s a ridiculous idea. No museum will pay money for something like that.”

Sue put her hands on her hips, “Fine. If you’re so smart what’s your idea?”

Damien sat back in his plush leather armchair staring into the fire, “I wasn’t saying I had a better plan just that I didn’t think yours would work.”

“It would if you put the right spin on it.” Sue sat down on the sectional facing the window.“That commode is such an eyesore. You would be doing yourself a favor by following my advice.”

“I don’t know,” Marcel replied. “I think Damien may be right about this. I don’t see how any Museum could be convinced a signed commode was art.”

Sue thought for a moment and then replied. “You could call it a response to the negative impact consumerism’s had on society.”

Damien sat up abruptly, “I’ve got a brilliant idea. What if I paint dots and call that art?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sue retorted, “painters have been doing that for years. It’s called pointillism.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “Obviously, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about painting individual circles on the canvas with no discernable picture being made.”

Sue let out a sarcastic half-laugh. “And you think that idea will have more success than my idea about the commode?”

Damien stared back at her. “Of course. My idea’s better because I’ll actually be making something. Marcel wouldn’t be making a commode, just signing his name on one.”

Marcel had wandered over to the window, looking out at the commode. He muttered to himself. “I wonder how it got there. Who leaves a commode in the middle of a field?”

“Sorry Marcel,” Sue said looking up at him from her seat on the couch, “did you say something?”

“You know Sue,” Marcel turned to face her, “now that I’ve thought about it for a while, I think your idea has some merit. I’m going to try it. What have I got to lose anyway? It’s not like I can get more broke than I already am. It’s a good thing my parents have money or I would be living on the streets.”

Damien nodded. “It’s hard being an artist. It’s about time we got some recognition for our struggles. Wait a minute Marcel, we’ve forgotten about Sue. What are you going to do Sue?”

Sue looked at the ceiling for a minute, thinking. “You know I think I am going to wait and see if my idea for Marcel works. If it does well for him I think I will pile trash on museum floors and call it art.”

Marcel looked at her his eyes wide. “You really are brilliantly diabolical, Sue. It’s almost scary.”

“What do you mean, I’m diabolical?” she asked, her eyes conveying hurt and confusion.

“Well, if this works, we will con tons of people and museum curators, into spending money on junk.” Marcel moved to the armchair beside Damien’s.

“Well don’t think of it as conning then. Think of it as a brilliant and strategic business move.”

Damien had been deep in thought while the two spoke, working on his own diabolical plan. “You know guys, after thinking about it, I don’t think painting spots is enough. What if I took animal corpses cut them up and suspended them in formaldehyde?”

Sue pursed her lips, her forehead wrinkling. “Eww. What a gross idea. What led you to such a stunningly grotesque and morbid plan?”

“Well, did you notice the dead crow in the field as we walked in? I was thinking about your statement that the commode was an eyesore. It made me remember the bird, which got me thinking about death and animals. Then I recalled the horror film I watched as a child where the serial killer kept cuttings from his victims in formaldehyde and that’s what gave me the idea.”

Marcel looked at him, his head cocked to one side. “If Sue’s idea works I think your plan has merit. But I wouldn’t mention that explanation again because it makes you sound like a nut job. In fact, let’s make a vow that we will never tell anyone this meeting happened. It’s better for all of us if no one knows how this con came about.”

Marcel, Damien, and Sue each promised to never reveal the conversation to anyone and then they went their separate ways.

None of them realized how successful their plan to bamboozle the public would be. Artists are still cashing in on the con these three brilliant minds thought up in an unassuming room in England.

It would have been impossible for the con to succeed so well if millions of people hadn’t bought their lie and come to believe that junk really could be art. I often wonder how much longer their con will be perpetuated or if, even now, some other group of artists has come up with an even better con and is getting ready to put it in motion.

Author’s Note: I want to clarify a few things. The artists I mention in this blog are actual people. The works they plan to make in this post are real. However, this post is satire so it stretches and bends the truth.

To cover story issues, I am pretty sure Marcel didn’t find the commode he used in his yard. I also don’t know if he was broke or if his parents were wealthy (although I can’t think of any artists who have had monetary success for their entire career). I made those parts up. If you are looking for facts about these artists you should check out other websites.

Finally, Sue Weber and Damien Hirst are still alive, but Marcel Duchamp died in 1968. His death occurred three years after Damien’s birth and one year before Sue’s. All three of them couldn’t have been in a room together unless time travel was involved (which is another story altogether).

Although I do believe Modern art is a scam designed to con people out of their money. I don’t think these three artists are the ones who came up with it. The reason I chose them was because, out of all the modern artists I studied in my art class at Anderson University in South Carolina, I hated their art the most.

In case my last sentence didn’t make this clear, allow me to clarify: I do not hate Damien, Sue or Marcel, I am sure all three are/were lovely individuals. I hate their art and believe it to be a trick designed to fool people into spending thousands of dollars on junk.

Postscript: While writing this blog I looked up images of each of their art and realized that Damien did create art that could be considered pointillism. I have decided I don’t hate his art, I am now only mildly disgusted by it.

#modernart #damien hirst #sue webster #marcel duchamp #satire

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adriennemareebrown · 4 years ago

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“we are fighting over which employee will best suit the needs of an important job. it isn’t political home – we both have those outside of the electoral process, places and people to whom we feel accountable. this is for mass strategy, mass protection, high level policy protection of the communities we love.

purist debate is important, honing how you feel and having a place to practice it fully is important. make sure you have a political home. don’t get that confused with the American experiment, with shaping the conditions of this experiment such that the most vulnerable stand a chance of surviving and changing it themselves. do not make poor people and immigrants and women” (and trans people and disabled people and students and teachers and essential workers) “and our babies the collateral damage of purist ideologies. your theoretical happiness is not more important than the earth’s and species’ tangible survival.”

one of my favorite things about being a writer is how sometimes my words come back to comfort me. yesterday i was not feeling much about the nomination of kamala harris as vp – watching other people have strong emotions one way or the other, and just feeling like, ok.

then i was reminded of how i feel about electoral politics! electoral politics isn’t and shouldn’t be our political home. it is a commons of service, meant to be accountable to informed people who direct the values and policies of those we elect to deliver and construct service provisions like home, health, water, education.

maybe you’re more excited about the dem ticket today. maybe you’re appalled. but either way don’t get confused: electoral strategy = placing human beings we can hold accountable into representative offices.

electoral strategy doesn’t include identifying ideological doppelgangers who will lose, or aren’t on the ticket, but assuage our sense of imperial complicity (yes, here i mean that american practice of paying taxes each year and then trying to distance ourselves from what we invested-in/didn’t-stop by not taking responsibility for who manages the money thru nonvoting or emo-voting). it does include assigning our paid representatives to positions where they are hired to govern, which includes synthesizing amongst many possible distinctions and directions to find paths that allow the majority of people to survive and grow.

political home, on the other hand, is a place where we ideate, practice and build futures we believe in, finding alignment with those we are in accountable relationships with, and growing that alignment through organizing and education.

political home is where we solidify our critiques and generate solutions for human and planetary futures that, with practice and time and a functional government, become viable enough to scale (deepen, normalize), or, faced with resistance and dysfunctional government, divergent enough to move for secession or battle.

the current occupants of highest federal office are opposed to all forms of life and evolution outside of power and pussy grabs. our current available move is voting them out, as no one has a viable secession plan (really open to being surprised/wrong on this) and their side is armed and militarised. our strategic option right now is to fight on an electoral battleground riddled with corruption and confusion. biden and kamala are the viable ticket opposing those in office. recognizing the available strategy doesn’t always equal endorsement.

and it’s OK to feel excited if you see yourself in kamala, to be excited about representation, or even to feel amused by uncle joe.

and it’s OK to feel the flood of critique, the way this ticket runs the faultlines of race and power. it’s OK to feel disappointed and/or bamboozled by the closing off of significantly more thrilling alternative futures (like an abrams/warren/knowles ticket).

either way, the strategic next move is to vote on november 3 and now you know the other name on the ballot.

feel all your feelings along the way, but don’t let those feelings keep you from seeing the biggest picture, the one that includes those more vulnerable than you.

let those feelings clarify and grow your political home, even as you create the external conditions in which having a political home can and will matter.

#IFTTT #WordPress

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 5 years ago

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Headcanon that in 1985, Bos hosts Thanksgiving weekend at The Clark(/Howe) Household for part of the Mutiny staff

[CN: food, alcohol]

He spontaneously volunteers after he walks in on Donna and Gordon quietly arguing in her office about their holiday plans: Donna suggests having some kind of holiday party at the office (“I mean we’ve only been here for a few weeks, I don’t want anyone who can’t afford to get home to be left without a place to go….”) Gordon smartly but also bitterly refuses, “Donna, I’ve been talking to my dad, and I want us to go see him. We didn’t get to see him the last time we were out here, and I want the girls to meet him at least once.” Donna hesitates, worried about the fight Gordon had with his brother last time, and just after Bos pokes his head into her office, Donna says, “But what about…?” Gordon doesn’t have the chance to even say her name; Bos offers, “I’ll be here this Turkey Day, I can take care of these chuckleheads. Including Cameron.” After Gordon says, “That’s one word for her,” under his breath, Donna says, “And you know what, you can come to our house, instead of having the staff come to the office! Do you wanna cook? Because if not there’s still to arrange and find some money for catering, right?” Gordon huffs out of Donna’s office, annoyed that as usual, it doesn’t feel like he won the argument.

Rather than putting it off or waiting for it to come out during another disagreement between Gordon and Cameron, Bos and Donna visit Cameron, who’s in her office, secretly looking to see if her ex has logged on. Donna knocks lightly on the doorframe, and says, “Hey, we were just talking about Thanksgiving. I wanted to do something for the staff members who can’t make it home, but Gordon and his dad are planning on us going up to his place that weekend, so….” Cameron momentarily forgets about Tom and balks, “Are you about to ask me to host a holiday? That requires like, actual food?” Bos laughs heartily, “No need to fear darlin’, I’ll be hosting, but I was hoping you’d be my lieutenant that day, I can work on the food, you can do the ‘team building’ or whatever it is that management is calling it these days.” Donna frowns, “I know it’s not ideal, the timing with this move wasn’t great….” Cameron shrugs glumly. “It’s okay. I don’t really celebrate, anyway, and I always complain that I’d rather be at work on holidays, so, it’s fine, I can lieutenant.” “I appreciate it,” Donna nods. “And I’ll only be a phone call away, if you guys need anything.”

[Grab a snack and some water, rearrange your blankets and pillow, settle in, because there is a lot under the cut here, friends]

Cameron spends the next three and a half weeks pointedly not thinking about any upcoming holidays, while Bos and Donna make multiple announcements about Thanksmutiny 1985, and ask any interested parties to rsvp to either of them. They food shop and clean the downstairs area of Donna, Gordon, and Cameron’s house the weekend before, and end up having a surprisingly good, amiable time together while doing these chores

When Cameron stumbles into the kitchen at 9:45 that Thursday morning, Gordon is already outside, packing the car, and Haley and Joanie are in their coats, sitting at the kitchen table and waiting for Donna, who’s at the sink, rinsing plates. There’s a papier-mâché turkey in a small pilgrim hat sitting on the table between the girls. Confused, Joanie asks, “Wait, why aren’t you dressed yet? My dad said we’re leaving soon.” Before Cameron can answer, Donna says, “Honey, Cameron is staying here today, she and Bos are having Thanksgiving with some of the people from work who came with us from Dallas.” Looking utterly betrayed, Joanie cries, “She’s not coming? But it’s gonna be so boring!” “No, it won’t,” Donna snaps, “because only boring people are bored and you’re not boring. And besides, your sister will be there!” “And? She’s just gonna sit there and read the whole time!” Joanie whines. (Haley, who has a Nancy Drew book stuffed in her pocket, and two more in the bag that’s currently in the trunk of their car, flushes guiltily.) “Joanie, please,” Donna sighs. “Your mom’s right,” Cameron tries to help. “You’re not boring, you’ll find a way to entertain yourself. And it’s only a couple days, you won’t even notice I’m not there.” “That’s not true,” Joanie crosses her arms over chest stubbornly.

They’re interrupted by Bos’ arrival. “Good morning, Clarks! And, Howe,” he greets them, tipping his Stetson. “Hey, Bos,” Cameron says. Before Bos can even take off his hat or coat, Joanie is begging, “Do I have to go? Can’t I just stay here with Cameron and Bos?! They don’t mind, right?” Evenly, Donna says, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind at all, but your grandfather is expecting all of us.” Joanie opens her mouth to argue more but Donna cuts her off, “And it’s important to your father, which means it’s important to me, and that’s the end of it, so say goodbye to Cameron and Bos, and get yourself outside, okay? Thank you.” Looking utterly miserable, Joanie gets up and stomps over to Cameron, and hugs her roughly. Close to bursting into tears herself, Cameron hugs Joanie back and says, “I’ll miss you too, weirdo.” Joanie glowers over at Bos, and says, “Bye Bos, see you soon.” “Yes, you will!” Bos promises, “we’ll all be together and celebrating soon!” Joanie says, “This stupid and UNFAIR.” Cameron says, “I know, but you’ll be back before you know it.” Unable to look at Cameron, Joanie abruptly pulls away, and rushes out the kitchen door.

Haley watches her leave, and then timidly asks, “Do you guys want my centerpiece? We made them in school yesterday.” Quick on his feet as always, Bos says, “We’d be honored, m’dear.” Haley hugs him politely, and says, “His name is Texan.” When she also politely hugs Cameron, Cameron looks at both Bos and Donna, and mouths, “What is she talking about?” Donna, mildly outraged, gestures emphatically toward the papier-mâché turkey. “Oh, well, thanks, squirt,” Cameron says. “Have fun with your books, okay?” Nervously, Haley says, “Thank you, I will,” as Donna gets on her coat. A large casserole dish in one hand, she hugs Bos, and then Cameron, and says, “Happy Thanksgiving, okay? Have fun today, and thanks again for doing this.” Gordon comes to the door, and says, “Donna, it’s time, we might need to get out of here before Joanie tries to make a run for it.” In a menacingly and overly pleasant tone, Cameron says, “Happy Thanksgiving, Gordon,” and Gordon replies in kind, “Thanks Cam, and likewise. You have a good day today, okay?” Suppressing a smirk, Bos says, “Oh, I’m sure you’re in for a mighty fun weekend yourself, Mrs. Clark!” With a bemused but genuinely tired sigh, Donna ushers Haley out the door, and moments later, they’re headed for Gordon’s dad’s house.

“…I really need at least three cups of coffee after all of that,” Cameron says, and Bos finally lets out the laugh he’d been holding back. They make coffee, and heat the breakfast sandwiches Bos brought, and they chat pleasantly as they eat, but then finally, Bos says, “Alright, it is time to get to work.” Frowning, Cameron says, “Is it okay if I shower first?” Tying on the apron he brought, Bos says, “I’d be offended if you didn’t, Cam.”

Cameron takes as long as she can with showering and getting dressed, as if this will delay the holidays themselves, but still only needs about twenty minutes. By the time she returns to the kitchen, the turkey is in the oven, Bos is working on the stuffing, and a cutting board, good knife, peeler, and washed vegetables are waiting on the table for Cameron. (The centerpiece has been moved out of harm’s way to the top of the fridge.) Cameron turns on the radio, and asks Bos what she should do first, and is surprised to find that cooking can be kind of soothing, when someone involved actually knows what they’re doing

By the time guests start arriving a few hours later, every part of the meal is either baking or cooking on the stove, and close to done, and Cameron is free to switch over to door-answering duty, though she’d frankly rather not. (She tries to bamboozle both Lev and Wonderboy into taking on this job but gets the stink eye from Bos both times.) She says, “Hi, welcome, Happy Thanksgiving to you too!” over and over again, and with Bos’s coaching she awkwardly accepts desserts, bottles of wine and whiskey, and floral arrangements and finds room to store them, takes coats, directs people to the living and rest rooms, and offers them drinks and hors d’oeuvres

A fair number of local Mutiny hires celebrate with them that day, but Cameron is relieved that Yo-yo, Lev, Wonderboy, Frosty, and Arki are all there. (Carl and Bodie, both from big families with many holiday traditions, both flew back to Dallas for the weekend.) She realizes how little office time she’s spent with them since the move, and how different the new office is from the Mutiny house, and she realizes how happy she is to hang out with them outside of work, even if that day sort of feels like a work thing.

By 4:30 everything is ready, and everyone helps to lay out the food and set the table. They take their seats, and Bos says a few words, thanks everyone there for their presence and their contributions both that day and every day at work, and reminds them once again that they’re the future even if ‘it sure doesn’t feel like it right now,’ and then after some applause and compliments, finally carves the turkey. They eat, and dinner is pleasantly rowdy, and much more enjoyable than Cameron could have ever hoped for it to be. Everyone eats a little more than they really need to, there’s plenty of wine, pies, brownies, and cookies to go around, and Bos is delighted to be able to send everyone home with a turkey cranberry stuffing sweet potato sandwich.

Bos returns the following afternoon, ostensibly to help with the clean up, and Cameron is glad to have some company. They go for a walk while there’s still a little daylight left, and then go back to the house and proceed to scrub down the bathrooms and kitchen, and then go through the living and dining rooms to make sure they didn’t miss any spills or other messes, and like with the cooking, Cameron notices that it doesn’t feel like doing chores with a friend there.

They’re about to sit down and have some leftovers for dinner when the phone rings, and Cameron jumps up to answer it. When she says, “Hello?” Joanie says, “Cameron?” “Uh, hey, Joanie? Is everything okay?” “No, everything sucks,” Joanie sulks, and Cameron says, “Right, but like, everyone is safe, right?” “Yeah, I just wanna go home,” Joanie sighs. And then admits, “To Dallas.” “I feel like that too sometimes,” Cameron says. “But I guess, sometimes you can’t do what you need to do at home, so you have to somewhere else, and try, even though part of you doesn’t want to.” Knowing that Cameron sometimes wants to go back to Texas is both comforting and slightly annoying to Joanie, and she says, “You’re gonna be there when we get back right? Can we play a game, or go to the park, or something?” “Of course,” Cameron says.

Before she can say anything else, she hears Donna, “Joanie Marie, what are you doing?! Who are you on the phone with?! Hello?” she shouts into the receiver. “It’s me, Jesus,” Cameron says. “Oh,” Donna says. “I’m sorry, I hope she didn’t bother you.” Rolling her eyes, Cameron says, “Of course she didn’t bother me. She’s like, ten. She just wants to come home.” She doesn’t say anything about Dallas, but she doesn’t have to. “Feels like there’s a lot of that going around,” Donna deadpans. “How are you though? Was yesterday okay?” “It wasn’t anywhere near as depressing as I thought it would be,” Cameron says. “I’m glad to hear that,” Donna grins. “You can tell me about it when we get home, I should go, I don’t wanna run up the phone bill.” “Right,” Cameron nods. “See you soon.” “Yeah, enjoy the rest of your weekend with the house to yourself,” Donna jokes. “And Happy Thanksgiving.” “Yeah, you too,” Cameron says, before they hang up.

(Donna asks why she called Cameron, and after a lot of coaxing, ‘Joanie finally says, “Because. I missed her. She always pays attention to us.” Donna feels a mix of guilt for abandoning Cameron, and that it upset Joanie, and relief at getting some distance from Cameron, and her inexplicable and weirdly intense desire to see Cameron thrive and grow and become a better boss. Gently, Donna says, “You should have asked your grandfather if you could use the phone.” “I know,” Joanie says. “I don’t regret it though.” Donna feels like she should scold her, but instead, she says, “I admire your conviction,” and she means it.)

Over their leftovers, Bos asks Cameron, “So how are things with you, and Donna?” “I don’t know?” Cameron says. “It’s weird, we moved here, and now we live together, and we’re not friends, but we’re also more than friends, we’re….” Bos says, “Partners.” “Right,” Cameron nods. “And we’re not family, but we live together. With Gordon. Who I know doesn’t want me here, and I don’t wanna live with him either, but part of me doesn’t wanna leave, either.” Bos frowns, “Well, it’s not easy when someone else comes along and steals your wife away. Especially when it makes you realize that you haven’t fully appreciated her. Donna seems happy, though. I know Mutiny is important to her, and that she likes working with you.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Cameron awkwardly says, “I like working with her, too, I’ve never worked with anyone like that, before. We disagree a lot, but it’s like, productive, usually? I can’t explain it. I just know that sometimes…we get home, and I’m not her partner anymore. Because Gordon is. And it feels lonely.” The words coming out in a tumble now, she says, “I feel lonely a lot here, sometimes I feel homesick.” Sympathetically, Bos says, “I know, but that’s to be expected. No one takes a leap without wonderin’ if they should have looked longer for another way across, Cam.” When she’s too embarrassed to say anything, Bos continues, “You’ll figure out the rest of it. You and Donna got all the time in the world to figure out how to be partners, and you’ll find your place. That’s why you came here.” Cameron changes the subject, but when Bos leaves that evening, after a few hours of watching television, she hugs him tightly and thanks him.

Cameron mostly enjoys spending some time by herself on Sunday, and doesn’t quite know what to do or say when Donna, Gordon, and the girls get back in the early evening. Donna decides to ‘help’ the girls unpack so she can spend some time in their room, and takes the opportunity to ask Cameron, “So, how are you? How was Thursday?” Cameron says, “It was actually pretty fun, I’ve had way worse Thanksgivings.” Smiling sadly, Donna says, “Well I’m glad you guys had a good time, at least.” Lowering her voice, she says, “Imagine Gordon twenty-five years older and without his unbounded sense of whimsy, and that’s his father.” “Yikes,” Cameron grimaces. “Yeah,” Donna says, “there was a lot of them sitting and silently being sad together? Not exactly the holiday I wanted for the girls, but, hey.”

Cameron tries to come up with something to say but before she can, Joanie interrupts them, “Hey, you said we could play a game, do you wanna play gin?” Cameron smiles, “Sure.” Joanie opens up her desk drawer to search for her deck of playing cards, and Donna, suddenly overtaken by her affection for the both of them, hugs Cameron, kind of the way Joanie hugged her before they left, and says, “I’m sorry that we couldn’t celebrate together this year, but next year, we’ll have Thanksgiving together, okay, guys?” “Um, okay?” Cameron says. Grabbing Cameron’s hand to drag her out to the dining room table, Joanie says, “Yeah sounds good mom!” Donna stays in their room, and sits with Haley for awhile, and Cameron and Joanie end up playing cards for the next couple hours, until dinnertime.

On the day after Thanksgiving in 1994, when Joanie is in the kitchen with Donna and Cameron, she says, “Hey remember in 1985 when you said we’d all celebrate together next Thanksgiving?” Already feeling nostalgic and a little out of sorts after her first Thanksgiving without Gordon, Donna cries, “I do remember that! Do you remember that?” she asks Cameron. Smiling glumly, Cameron says, “Yeah, I do. I thought about it every year at Tom’s mother’s house.” “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise,” Donna says. Joanie rolls her eyes, “It just took longer than you thought it would. And whatever, because, it was worth the wait.”

Cameron and Donna are together for every Thanksgiving after that, and Haley is there for most of them, too, and Joanie is always there too, after she gets back from her years of living abroad.

#this was delayed for so many reasons that i won't even try to list #i regret nothing #headcanon #better living through headcanons!#food/#cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson #gordon clark #haley clark #joanie clark #john bosworth

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waypathfinder · 5 years ago

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Crimson Lane - Chapter 29 - The Beginning and the End

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Chapter Text

The old man formed a silhouette against a cloudless blue sky, giving the impression of awed stillness, in commune with a world that was beyond these bamboo floors and screened walls.

He wore a black karategi and stood with his feet bare and hands clasped behind his back.

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste." The man's voice was distant and echoey in the open space.

"And remember what peace there may be in silence," Ben completed, as he entered the dojo with a bow. "Hello, Uncle Luke."

The words were from the poem Desiderata. Luke had taught it to him as a boy, and it had gone on to be a comfort in trying times, even though the long dark night of working for Snoke.

He remembered …

Lying in bed beside a woman who was not Rey, shaking at the realisation of what he had become. It was the first time he'd questioned his existence, and it would not be the last.

Outside, rain wept down the steamy windows of the Brothel as Ben twisted his hands in the angled lamplight.

These hands have broken and killed and hurt, he thought. There were scars on his knuckles and rust beneath his nails.

His eyes trailed down to his wrists, tracking the corded blue veins that twisted like gnarled roots. He studied them, penitent and thoughtful, a macabre thought taking hold.

What was the point of it all?

Then Luke's voice had rung out in the silence, the memory of him with a dog-eared book of poems, reading by campfire.

"You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

Ben had clung to those verses when all hope was lost, and even now, when life was beginning to have meaning again. It gave him the right to thrive, to pursue happiness and love.

He continued walking towards Luke and visions of the past rushed like fleeting shadows: from the first time he'd come to the dojo, a young, aggressive teenager who had so much rage and no idea how to expel it. And then to the last time, he was here, broken, near desperate, seeking solace but finding coldness.

The bitterness and hate he'd felt for Luke had long passed. The many hours they'd sat across from each other in the visitation room, awkward one-word answers to discussions of deeper things.

Another step. Luke took a meditative breath and Ben mirrored his position, his head bowed reverently and waiting.

The wind chided against the dojo as whirlwinds scooped up leaves and battered the windows with a soft tap, tap, tap.

"The tree has reached maturity and has overcome the darkness." Master Luke turned as he spoke. He'd said these words before, many years ago — another lifetime.

Ben was like the stillness following a storm, eyes fixed to the ground as Luke stood before him.

"I told you that, the night you became a sandan, do you remember?"

"I do." Ben's neck prickled under Luke's goading stare.

"And have you overcome the darkness?"

Ben's shoulders slumped. The darkness would always be there, hiding, dormant. It was like an old coat he'd worn through life. It was familiar; he understood it. His fiery passions and short temper, dark moods and haunted memories walked with him, they were his shadow.

But he wouldn't tell Master Luke that. Not after all this time — after everything.

Ben blinked, the grains of wooden floorboards blurring into one another. He tried to say "yes" but involuntarily his lips pressed together, shaking his head.

"Good. Honesty is a good place to start."

"I'm still angry. The rage is like a sleeping giant. I try to hold it in —" he centred with a breath. "Rey's understanding."

Ben lifted his gaze from the floor. "Being around her helps. She makes me feel light."

"She says the same thing about you."

He smiled. Because, while there was darkness, he had also found light. He saw it in the little things, the touch of her warm skin against his own, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed at his snarky jokes and most of all when they were silent and could just be. He began to see that the world was full of colour and laughter, that nature was beautiful, and emotions rose and fell like the tide. He had learnt that there was always joy on the horizon. His internal violence had been tempered with peace and his chaos subsided into harmony.

And Rey was always there, waiting for him with a gentle hand and a quiet heart.

"She's patient with me," Ben continued, because there were never enough words to make people understand how much he loved this woman.

"Patient? That's an interesting word for Rey."

"Not in obvious ways, I guess. She told me once, her upbringing had taught her two things. The first was to salvage broken things."

Luke gave him a half-smile. "And the other?"

"The second was to wait." Ben clenched his jaw, muscles tensing as he tried to quell the wave of emotion that had an embarrassing habit of sneaking up on him when he spoke about her. "I always thought I was cursed, but she makes me feel— worthy"

Whether Luke saw the way his breath quickened or the pure wonder in Ben's eyes at the thought that after everything he would be standing here speaking about something so special to him, he wasn't sure. But Luke placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She's lucky to have you, kid."

Ben balked because that was possibly the most insane thing Luke had ever told him. And Luke had said a lot of shit in his time.

"You're surprised?"

"I think you're insane."

"Before she met you, Rey's happiness had only ever been skin-deep. Yes, she's quick to smile, her enthusiasm is infectious, but it always felt like she wore a mask, you know?"

Ben nodded, not quite sure what to say.

"I mean, the girl's dealt with some serious trauma, but when I see her with you, there's no mask there. There's stillness and deep, heartfelt joy."

Ben caught his bottom lip between his teeth, genuinely surprised at his words.

"She's found her home with you, Ben — and that's very special to someone who never had one before."

His heart fluttered at Luke's words. Solidifying a conviction that had been growing in his mind ever since he'd walked into the dojo.

"Anyway, shall we?" Luke walked across to the far wall of the room, removing a bo staff from a rack and spinning it to his side.

"She tells me you've been looking for a job. Here." He grabbed another staff from the wall and threw it to Ben, who caught it easily.

How did she know that? For the last three months, he'd been waiting until after she'd fallen asleep, sated and exhausted before pulling his laptop on the bed and applying for anything he could find. The soundtrack of her heavy breaths accompanied him deep into the night as he read through rejection letter, after rejection letter.

It turned out having a criminal record was a terrible career move.

Ben must have been pulling a face because Luke chuckled at his bamboozled expression.

"Hasn't Han given you the 'women always figure out the truth' speech?"

"I guess I missed that one."

"So why have you come to see me? You looking for a reference, or something?"

"I'd hate to see what kind of reference you'd give me, Uncle Luke."

"Well, it wouldn't be dull." Luke lifted his bo staff at an angle and with a nod, he leapt forward striking as Ben defended.

Ben returned the blow, angling his staff diagonally as they met with a low clap. "I don't want a reference. I want a job."

"I'm not hiring."

"I'll hire myself," he snapped and cringed a second later. "I mean I won't need your money."

"Okay..."

Ben held the staff by his side. "When you trained Rey to fight, that changed her life. She was able to defend herself — to defend me, even. Imagine if we could do that for more kids, ones who have lost their way, or who are struggling with addiction, school dropouts, or those with mental health issues. What if we could really help the ones who need it most?"

Ben barely paused to take a breath. "If you could make so much difference to one person, imagine the impact we could have with a whole class of kids like that. Not the normal whiny brats you have but teach kids who really need these skills!"

Luke chuckled involuntarily. "Don't call my kids brats. You were the biggest shit out of all of them."

"You know what I mean."

"You'd have to manage it. My hands are tied with normal classes."

"I'd do everything. I've already spoken to Maz about some kids who would be ready to start now."

Luke opened his mouth to speak but Ben continued.

"You wouldn't need to worry about money, I have some funds to get it started. There are government grants that we can access. I've already applied to a few—"

Luke cocked an eyebrow at his nephew and Ben shrugged with a half-smile. "I figured you'd say yes."

Luke sighed, stretching out his decision. He liked these power plays to keep his nephew waiting. It used to infuriate him as a kid, but he understood now, he was teaching him to wait.

It was a lesson he still struggled to put into practice.

"You can use the Dojo with my blessing. But this is your project, you name it, you run it. It will rise or fall with you, Ben."

Ben leaned onto his toes, lips curling with an excitable smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Luke chuckled. "You'll do alright, kid. Come on."

They deposited the staff against the wall and Ben followed him through the glass-paned door and into Luke's office.

The room was bright, shelves and glass cabinets polished to perfection. There were the usual trophies and plaques and Ben's reflection flashed back at him, filled with memories of a boy much younger, seeing them for the first time and dreaming that he might be worthy of a place there. He'd been an awkward teenager, limbs too long and skinny, with volcanic acne dotted along his jaw, filled to the brim with nervous energy. He'd barely been there for fifteen minutes before Master Luke had demanded he'd run around the outside of the dojo one hundred times to expel his excess energy.

Ben grinned at the memory and then realised something had changed. The last time he was here, there were gaps where his trophies had been, dustless squares on the wall where newspaper clippings and certificates once were. His heart bloomed at seeing them all back where they were, painstakingly polished or framed.

"I put them back the morning after you came," Luke said beside him. "I never should have taken them down."

"I didn't give you much choice."

"No, Ben." Luke folded his arms, staring straight ahead at his cabinet of achievements. "We had many choices. We could have reached out to you sooner. I could have listened to you that day instead of— "

"It's in the past," Ben said quickly and then glanced at his uncle from the corner of his eye. "Anyway, you were protecting her and I will never begrudge you for that."

They fell into silence, the sound of the outside world creeping into their space; the roar of the ocean and traffic, the main door to the dojo slammed open with a crack and the hallways filled with children's voices. Ben looked at the clock, it was 8.55 am and the next karate class would be ready to start soon.

Luke went to his desk, removing the black jacket in lieu of a white one, carefully folding it into the draw and then wrapping his black belt around his waist.

"You're welcome to stay—"

"No, I've got a boat to catch and I still need to pay the bond on our new place before I go."

He bit his lip, staring at his uncle who was obnoxiously and patiently quiet, eyes twinkling again as Ben made his way to the door. Some of the younger students must have taken the bo staffs in the other room because they could hear the sound of battle amidst a fit of giggles. "I better get going before these kids destroy the dojo—"

"Did you get it?" Ben blurted.

"I may have," Luke answered, unable to hold back the childish gleam of joy from his face. "Did you want to take it with you?"

He nodded, feeling a rush of blood colouring his cheeks.

"It's barely been three months since you were released; you don't think that's too soon?" Luke pulled a black and gold cardboard bag from out of the safe, handing it to Ben. "Patience was never your strong point."

Ben snatched it, searching inside as he pushed white and silver tissue paper to the side, praying the jeweller had gotten it right.

It was perfect. Silver streams swirled like rivers, the words engraved within "never alone" and a single sparkling stone that winked as it caught in the light.

"I'm not going to rush into anything." He closed it back up again. "I'll wait."

"What, till the end of the week? I know you, Ben. A hundred bucks says you won't last the month."

Ben slipped it into his back pocket with a smirk.

"We'll see."

"Rey?"

Ben barrelled into the apartment that afternoon to find it empty. He'd run up from the jetty as soon as the ferry had docked, hair loose and windswept from the sea, and forearms a rosy shade of pink. Rey's laptop was open, fan whirring in the otherwise silent room. Her runners were airing on the lawn next to the bi-fold doors and there was a half-drunk green smoothie on the kitchen bench.

This is what normal life looked like now; from the tousled bedsheets to Rey's cotton panties scrunched up on the floor and the bra he'd given her so many months ago slung across the bed head. Everything in this room exuded her and it never failed to amaze him that their intertwined fates had come to this point.

Ben scooped up her underwear, tossing them both in the laundry hamper. Then he pulled up the bedsheets, smoothing them out and arranging the pillows. At last, he flicked the coverlet over the top, running his hand along the creases. All of it was done with military precision, a calming exercise, each sweep of his hand bringing to mind how it had gotten that way in the first place.

"It's just for the night," he'd told her, nuzzling sweet kisses below her ear.

"Too long," she'd whined, dragging him back into bed. "Can't you go next week when I'm not on deadline? That way we can go together?"

"Luke is expecting me." He kissed her on the nose. "I'll come find you as soon as I'm back."

"You better." She'd pulled his lips to hers then, tasting every inch of them with passionate enthusiasm. In the end, he had to pry her away or he'd have missed the ferry.

Life with Rey was full. Each morning, he'd watch the dawn light gild across her face, the glare making her nose wrinkle as she'd nuzzle into his chest, half asleep. She was his own sunshine and now he ached to see her.

He went to leave, stopping at the coffee table to play his next move of Risk on the way out. They'd been playing this round for the whole week. Rey must have been expecting his next move because she'd left him a little note saying, "Don't you dare!". He took the post-it note in his hand and smiled before sliding three troops onto Kijimi where a lone piece of hers remained. She'd be furious; he'd already conquered the Unknown Regions, Hosnian Prime and Crait, and tonight he would claim the mantle of Supreme Leader and enjoy the bounty that came with it. They often battled their differences on the game board, claiming dominion over the other at every opportunity. The game continued, deep into the night, between the sheets, fighting to bring each other to ruin.

And now, he needed to find her.

Ben Solo had never known such peace, and grace, as in those moments when Rey gave herself to him.

The anticipation of seeing her, of being inside her, made his loins stir and he rushed to find her.

Outside, he could see the resort cafe where his parents played a game of poker with Uncle Lando. As if sensing him, Leia looked up and gave him a warm smile.

"Rey's down by the beach!"

"Thanks!" He looked again at the scene below and noticed an extra couple of cards hidden beneath the table. "He's cheating again."

Lando scoured as Han ripped the hidden cards from the man's grip and a pair of aces flew across the table.

"Good work, Ben," Han called.

The three of them laughed and Ben felt something in his chest tighten, a knot of pride, yearning and happiness tied together. Leia had decided to step back from politics, focussing on three different NGOs that she led with a dogged passion, and Han was Han. He enjoyed the company of friends, driving the Falcon, and playing long games of chess with his son over a whisky on the rocks. It gave them a chance to really talk, about life, failure, even love. Ben came to understand he had more in common with his father than he realised, from his mannerisms to his heart.

Ben continued along the lush green grounds and down a sandy path to the beach.

Rey was there, her long slim shadow layered on the sand, warm light painting her skin in gold. Her bare shoulders were bronze, and she was looking down at her feet, watching the clear waves lap at her toes, burying them further in the sand each time it retreated.

He walked towards Rey and a gentle breeze brushed against his black t-shirt, filling the air with sea salt and summer heat. Rey turned, beaming a huge smile that was always reserved for him.

"Trying to sneak up on me, Solo?"

"I took Kijimi." She gave him a mock glare as he came before her and lowered his voice. "Now you and all your territories belong to me."

"You know, I won't surrender that easily?"

He leaned in with hooded eyes, half-hard and desperate to plunder her right now, but she turned on him, glancing warily in the direction of where Han and Leia sitting.

"Did you want to swim? I went in before and the water's still pretty warm."

He took in the sight of her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, then down to her top, where there were two large wet patches over her breasts. "So I see."

She looked down and frowned, also noticing the way her wet swimmers had left two very dubious marks against her olive-green top. "Damn it, that's embarrassing."

"I don't mind, in fact—" he pulled her in a kiss so urgent she stumbled back, pulling him down to her level as he chased her lips with hungry kisses. She tasted like sea salt, fresh waves and sunlight. "I find it kind of hot."

"So, did you miss me?"

"Every second."

They settled on the sand, Rey between his legs as he wrapped his arms around her as they watched the tide roll in. The sand was warm from the heat of the day and Rey rested her head on his shoulder, as gentle waves frothed and played by their feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kylo noticed Rey peeking up at him, her gaze meditating on his smile and then down to his shoulders.

"What?" he asked.

"You just seem —" she looked up, searching for the word she wanted. "Light. You seem so much lighter and relaxed. There's colour in your cheeks and by some miracle you've even gotten a tan."

He held her hands in his, their fingers braided together, his thumb softly stroking her skin. They seemed so small compared to his own, but they were strong hands; skin calloused and stained with oil and yet, so beautiful. They were the hands he wanted to see hold his children.

"I'm happy." He glanced down at once more, lifting her hand and pressing whisper-soft kisses against her knuckles.

"I'm happy too, Ben."

He pressed his lips to hers, soft and chaste. They were like this sometimes, quiet and at peace. Those moments were sacred and Ben lost himself in thoughts of her and their future. They were gentle, fingers tracing each other as softly as the wind, lips searching, a ceremony, a discovery of the other. It lasted until the sun touched the ocean, burning with crimson and bursts of gold.

Rey cleared her throat, reminding him that this place, this woman, was real.

"Luke said you had news."

"That crotchety old miser wasn't supposed to say a thing."

Rey smirked, almost seeming to hold her breath, she did this when she had a secret she didn't want to keep.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing." Rey shook her head, her smile deepening.

"Has he told you the whole thing?" Ben asked crossly.

"If it's that you're starting not-for-profit martial arts classes for at-risk children and have already written at least a dozen application letters to get government grants to make it happen then — maybe?"

He groaned, chewing on his lip, that tell-tale tic flicking under his eye. "Fucking Luke Skywalker can't keep his God-damn fucking mouth shut!"

She pressed a warm hand to his thigh, teasing it with her fingers, a clasp, an entreaty. It was their secret language.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"I know. Just thought I'd stop you before you got started."

"It's not like there's anything I can break on the beach, anyway."

Rey kissed his cheek. "Five things."

Ben rolled his eyes. "The sound of the waves."

She held one finger up, and he gritted his teeth together.

"The warmth of the sun on my face."

Two fingers. "How poetic."

"Sea salt."

"Three," she beamed at him and he felt the anger subsiding like the tide, flowing out to sea.

"Your body against mine," he said quietly, moving to kiss her neck.

"Four," she whispered, raising her eyes to the sky as he traced his lips from her ear to her collar bone.

"Hardness," he growled.

"Five." It was barely a word.

His fingers splayed beneath her breast, searching for the line of her bikini bottoms, touching her—

She started and Ben's lips curled in a sinister smile.

"Your wet little—"

"You're better." She slapped his hand away with a laugh and jumped to her feet, pressing the back of her hands to her brazenly red cheeks.

"I wasn't finished," he followed her.

"Is that all Master Luke told you?"

"You mean, there's something else you're hiding from me?" She peered up at him suspiciously.

He pulled her in tighter, clamping his mouth on her neck and sucking hard, lapping her skin with his tongue. The girl was insatiable when she caught whiff of a lead, and this was one story he wasn't ready to share. Fortunately, he knew the fastest way to distract her.

"I'm going to make love to you right now."

She snorted. "Here?"

"Yes, here."

He consumed her, and as always, her body responded, disappearing in his arms, just like the waves got lost in the sand. His hand followed the curve of her back, down—

"Stop it! Your family is up there!"

She had a point. He gave her one last squeeze and tried to push away the thoughts that were overpowering his willpower. "Stop looking so damn hot then."

Rey pulled herself away, lips red and plump from the way he had taken them between his teeth. "We should change the subject."

"Fine." He thought about it. "The room was a mess up there."

"Really?"

"Did anyone tell you that you're a slob?"

"This is your subject?"

He smirked, lowering his head. "We can go back to the other one if you want?"

"If you would stop ripping my clothes off whenever we get up there then maybe it would stay clean?"

"It's a small price to pay, I suppose."

"Cheaper than it used to be."

"Smart arse." He gave her a light slap on the backside but as she went to return the favour, he stopped her.

"What's in your pocket?"

"Nothing. What's in yours?"

She peered at him suspiciously, but dropped it, nevertheless. He was surprised to see she did have something.

"What's that?"

"Umm, only Finn and Rose's wedding invitation!" she shouted with excitement.

"What!?" he grabbed it, barely able to believe his own eyes. "When did this happen?"

"He just told me today. Wanted it to be a surprise."

"Haven't they only known each other for a year or something?"

"Well, they've been living together the whole time. I guess you know, when you know, right?"

He stopped looking at the invitation and met her gaze, searching for something that he hoped was there.

"Right—"

The waves gently lapped at his feet, the sound of them gurgling and brushing against the sand. She had looked away from him then, cheeks pink and an embarrassed smile.

A hundred bucks says you won't last the month, Luke haunted him.

He pushed down the thought. He could at least talk to her about it. It didn't mean he was going to do anything rash.

"So, what do you think?" Ben asked softly. They had hung out with Finn and Rose a few times now; he enjoyed their company and he envied Finn the way he could be so free with Rose. Ben had always struggled with this, there was always something too intense, or too awkward. There was always too much of him.

"What do I think of what?" Rey tried not to look at him and this made him nervous.

"They're getting married."

"Oh, I'm really happy for them!" she said.

"I mean the fact that they're doing it so soon?"

She shrugged, and this time she stole a glance, measuring his expression as much as he was measuring hers.

He swallowed and felt the way his face was grimacing as he did.

"The whole marriage thing," he was barely managing to keep his voice steady now. "Do you mind it?"

"Mind it? Um, I don't know, do you … mind it?"

"No." He shoved his hands in his pocket, grasping hold of the velvet box in one hand and squeezing it like it was a stress ball.

"As in 'no, you don't believe in it?'"

"No, no, I do believe in it. Do you?" Ben said.

"I think it's a good thing. To come together and be a family—" She studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful and cautious. He wasn't sure what she saw there but something made her rush the next sentence. "I know it's not for everyone though."

What did that mean? He felt his brow creasing as he glowered into the ground.

This was a terrible idea.

"Would—" she continued, but when Ben snapped his eyes up to look at her, she faltered. His face was pulling in all the wrong directions and he was still glaring.

"What?" He sounded fucking rude now, he could see it in her face.

Rey hesitated, somehow looking young and gangly like all her girlish insecurities had come to haunt her. "Would you want to be married one day?"

"Yes."

Fuck, he'd said it too intensely. There were a million thoughts racing through his brain. What if he asked her now? Was there any chance she could say yes? If he showed her the ring and told her how he'd designed it during quiet times in the jail, that he'd forced Master Luke to stop at the jeweller's after their together when he was on bail, so they could start crafting it, that there was no point in waiting because he wanted this now, not in a month, not in a year…

"Me too," her voice was quiet, fading into the background as he agonised over the decision.

He wanted to make it special, to charter a sailboat, or take her away to Thailand, or some exotic destination. Worst of all, he thought about what would happen if she said no, if it was too soon, too much, or he just wasn't the one.

He wouldn't blame her; she'd be right to run...

Ben could feel the subtle flicker of a tic beneath his eye, and when he met her eye, he realised he must have still been scowling because Rey seemed — crushed.

Wait, had she said something?

"Let's go back." There was a frostiness to her voice that wasn't there before.

He snapped out of it. "I didn't hear you."

"Don't worry, we can talk about it later. Come on, I'll cook dinner."

She turned to walk along the sand but he didn't follow.

It was certifiably crazy, but some desperate urge had overpowered him and he lowered to one knee.

"Rey."

It was barely a voice and she kept walking. He should get up. It was too soon … she wouldn't be ready.

Slowly, he began to stand again when she turned and her eyes went wide.

"I ... ah," Ben stammered.

"What are you doing?"

He kneeled and she gaped.

"I know it's too soon," he said in a rush and blinked quickly because goddammit if he was going to cry. "You have so many reasons to say no."

Rey took a step closer, her brows furrowed like she was about to deliver news of a terminal illness.

Shit.

"It could be a long engagement — as long as you want. We could wait until you've finished your studies, or we've moved, or—"

Closer. There were tears in her eyes now.

Fuck.

It was too late now. He squeezed his eyelids shut, determined to see it through.

"I don't know where our lives are going and I know all of this started off really badly— god knows we can never tell our children how we met—" He cringed at that. "If you want kids, do you want kids?"

She nodded, "Yes, not right now though."

"No, not right now."

"But one day…"

"One day would be nice."

"It would."

They stared at each other and Ben almost forgot what he was doing.

"I wouldn't expect you to take my name or anything."

"I'd want to take it. If you're asking me that is —" She looked away, blushing. "Are you asking?"

"I erm."

"Oh my God!" She covered her mouth in shock. "You're really doing it?"

"Shit, I'm nervous at this shit." He'd forgotten how to speak and his hands were sweating as he wiped them on his knee. "Rey, all I know is I want to spend every day of my life with you."

"Ben..."

"Here." he pulled out the small velvet box, opened it, and held it before her. "I know you think I act first and think later, but this isn't an idea I've just had. I wanted to wait until I knew you were going to say 'yes'. But I can't even bear waiting for that anymore—"

His heart was pounding, his breath was shaking and even his fucking fingers were trembling, but he would finish this.

"Rey, are you crazy enough to say yes?"

She was still.

Still as the wind that had died, and the waves that shallowed out in response. The colour rose to her cheeks and her fingers pressed against her lips and then over her heart.

"Please," he whispered, reaching his hand out to hers.

"Please!"

Rey's world slowed.

The sun had fallen and darkness crept into the sky; the white foam brilliant with phosphorescence as waves pounded in a clamorous roar.

A million reasons fired in her brain as to why they should wait and not run head-first into the great unknown.

But when she saw him there, genuflecting at her feet and trembling …

"Please," he'd said it again, but this time it sounded different, softer, mournful, like he'd lost all hope.

"Ben—" She reached out and skimmed her hand against his in the lightest of touches and he raised his dark and desperate eyes.

A warm wind danced across the sand, caressing her face like an invisible force and Rey shivered — because, suddenly, she saw their future, solid and clear.

They were happy.

They loved each other until the end.

They fought with passion and loved with fervour.

And they were never alone.

She smiled at him, knowing they would face the darkness and the light, the good times and the bad together.

"You're not alone anymore, Ben." A tear fell, trickling down her cheek.

"Is that a yes?"

She lowered to her knees, level with him like the equals they were. She kissed his palm and he watched her with wonder, trembling fingers ghosting across her face.

"Yes!"

#crimson lane #reylo #reylo fan ficiton #reylo writers den #pink ladies #reylo fan fic rec #angst with a happy ending

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kasperikapanenisbetterthanyou · 6 years ago

Text

Paul Bissonnette - number three

this was requested over on leafsbabe a while ago and there’s an explanation for why i’m posting this here over on leafsbabe, hope you like it anyway

word count: 1.5k

You heard your front door slam shut approximately two seconds before Paul called out “Honey, i’m home.”

The baby started crying right after.

Groaning you put your head on the rim of the tub, Jax had kept you up all day and only fell asleep fifteen minutes ago. Naturally your oldest took this as an invitation to splash you with water, making not only a mess out of the bathroom floor but also you. Thankfully you didn’t care about the shirt too much since it already sported at least three stains of questionable origins.

“In the big bathroom!” you shouted, hoping that Paul would come and tell Eddie to behave so you could try to get the rest of the paint out of his hair.

Thankfully Jackson’s crying stopped so you assumed your husband picked him up and calmed him down. You concentrated on cleaning Edison up from the big paint incident of 2019. Just as you were wrapping him up in a big fuzzy towel Paul came in, stopping when he saw the mess.

“Wow, what happened here?”

You were close to tears and Paul could see it so he quickly focused on Eddie in your arms. “Hey Buddy, do you wanna go and put on your pajamas real quick? Daddy is gonna read you an epic story later, ok?” Eddie nodded and ran off, leaving Paul standing there and you kneeling on the wet bathroom floor.

“What happened today? I saw the…”

You quickly interrupted him. “Saw the paint everywhere in the living room? The daycare called and said they’re closed today because of a measle outbreak because apparently Stella’s mom is a bitch that doesn’t believe in vaccines so i had to call in sick because i can’t take both Jax and Eddie to work with me and then Jax kept crying and Eddie was just running around everywhere and then he wanted to paint but when i finally put Jax down and came back he had painted all over the couch and the wall and i’m just so tired.” You were close to sobbing at that point, tears already gathering in your eyes and you couldn’t help but let it all out when Paul came over and pulled you against his chest.

Never once you cried because your babies were overwhelming you, until now.

“How about you go get ready for bed, okay? I’ll take care of the boys and the mess.” Paul tried to gently nudge you towards the door.

“But you just came home from work and are probably exhausted too, i’ve been home all day i should clean up.”

He took the towel you were still holding out of your hands and nudged you again. “Taking care of the boys is incredibly hard work and i’m so proud of you. You had a very hard day and i’m going to clean up. Ok? Ok. Now go sleep.” He gave you little kiss on the cheek and a tap on your butt and you knew better than to argue with him when he was stubborn like that.

“Okay.” You resigned, heading for the door, “i love you.”

“Love you too.” came back the answer.

You knew something was horribly wrong when you woke up the next morning when you woke up and the house was quiet. When you looked over to your nightstand and saw the time you actually fell out off bed before racing downstairs. You were so freaking late.

It was only when you rounded the corner to your open kitchen when you heard Paul sing along to the radio while swaying his hips and also somehow making breakfast. Eddie was sitting at the counter eating peacefully and Jax was nibbling on some fruits. They were already dressed and everything seemed like the polar opposite of yesterday. What the heck?

“Oh hey, you’re up. I’m making breakfast. Do you want an egg or pancakes?”

Completely bamboozled you sat down and only remembered to greet the boys when Eddie slurped his juice loudly. “Good morning sweetheart.”

“Morning mommy.” He was kicking his little feet under the table but was careful not to kick the wood.

“What’s going on?” You asked when you saw that both of them were wearing Coyotes jerseys.

“We going to work with daddy.” Eddie yelled, startling Jax who thankfully didn’t cry.

“I’m taking them with me today. You’re just going to stay here and relax. Or maybe go get a massage or something.” You were about to interrupt him but he just raised a finger to shush you, “i already called in sick for you and you had to deal with them yesterday so today is my turn. Also i called the doc and she said that Jax is most likely teething and that’s why he’s been crying so much, i already put a teething ring in the freezer to cool it down. Oh and there are painters coming in later to cover up everything i couldn’t get off the wall just so you know.”

You were completely overwhelmed. “You’re an angel.” was the only thing you could say at that moment.

“Nope just a regular dude taking care of his family.” he turned to Eddie before continuing. “We need to leave soon buddy, do you want to run up and get some toys? I’m sure the guys would love to see them.”

As soon as your son was out of the room you pulled Paul down and kissed him. With the horror stories you heard about your colleagues’ partners you were more than thankful for Paul and everything he did. “I love you so fucking much.” You mumbled before kissing him again. Thankfully Jackson made some noise to alert you to cut it out or else you might have tried to deepen the kiss.

“A day off sounds heavenly. I wanted to go see the doctor for something anyways so i can just do that today. Nothing serious.” You added when you saw his face. “Everything is fine it’s just a formality.”

“Okay, if you say so. I’m gonna trust you on this but if anything is wrong you’ll tell me alright? Now, could you help me get Jax into that new baby carrying sling stuff i don’t know how that works.”

Eddie came back down with his arms full of toys soon after. Seeing your favorite men standing there nearly brought tears to your eyes again and you quickly snapped a picture.

“Have fun, sweetheart.” You waved at them even though you were only a few feet away.

“Bye mommy.”

“Bye honey.”

You tried your hardest to enjoy your last quiet day for quite a while. After the visit to the doctor you slendered through a local mall, just looking at a few stores in peace. You didn’t even buy anything except a cute vase and some soft serve ice cream with chocolate sauce. And no screaming kids around that tried to grab it and made a mess.

Deciding to surprise your boys for dinner you picked up some pizza on the way home. The three of them were sitting on your big couch watching cartoons when you walked through the door. As you walked closer you could see that both Jax and Eddie were asleep on Paul who was on the verge of falling asleep himself.

“Hey baby.”

You leaned down to give him a kiss. “Hey babe. The boys tire you out?”

“Yeah.” Jax stirred a little bit but Paul just rested his hand on his back and he calmed down again. “They’re a handful. But it was a great day. I have so many pictures of our boys with the guys.”

“Yeah they’re a lot but i wouldn’t have it any other way. We just need to make sure to hire a nanny before the next one comes along. And if this one’s a girl you’re either getting a vasectomy or i’m getting my tubes tied. I want a little princess and after that i’m done.” As you walked away you placed your hand over you still flat stomach hoping that Paul would catch on.

“What do you mean this one? Come back here.” He was struggling but couldn’t get up without waking the boys up but you could hear the joy in his voice. Hopefully number three would be a bit easier.

#paul bissonnette #biznasty #hockey imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #Hockey Players

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sweetheartblue · 5 years ago

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An update on life!

Super long so it’s under a read-more!

So, last friday was my First Official Day Of Work In My Big Girl Adult Job! It was super great for my first two days, because nobody was in the lab and all I did was online training.

Then tuesday happened.

For some context: I had just gotten hired for this brand new lab site that the company was opening, and I had gotten hired for a Microbiology Technician 1 position. Now, this lab’s main job is meat testing, which I expected to be gross, but oh....my god.

So I go into work on tuesday, and the rest of the lab staff is there. I meet some coworkers, one of whom is absolutely monstrous. She glared at me, wouldn’t hold any sort of conversation with me, and purposely did things faster to make me frazzled. We’ll call her K. I meet my supervisor, and my other coworker (gonna call her A) who are both better than K. Then, my Boss-boss comes over and tells me to observe the process for the meat shipment processing and preparations for path lab.

The process kinda goes like this: open meat bag, add nutrient broth, add water, roll bag, place in stomacher, put in labelled bin.

Not too bad, yeah. Is it really what I got hired for? No, doesn’t match the job description at all. It’s fine though, I’m just excited to work.

Then second shipment comes. I’m observing, when suddenly not one, but two people on the line decide to go on lunch. Leaving me and K. Me, who has no fucking clue what she’s doing, and K, who is a raging demon in the body of a tiny woman. K starts filling bags as fast. as. she. possibly. can.

I’m trying to roll bags the right way (didn’t know how), put them in the stomacher (didn’t know how), and put them in their bins (kind of knew how, but it was a lucky guess). This hell continues for god knows how long, and then finally we’re done, and I’m crazy behind, and K is being Very Rude And Dramatic because I wasn’t fast enough. Girl, it was my first day doing shit!

Wednesday comes around. Kind of a better day. Supervisor decides I must do All Cleaning In The Lab By Myself. We get a late shipment and I’m on station #3 (stomacher to bins) duty with A and my supervisor, and I’m there until 9:30pm, which is an hour after my shift was supposed to end. Supervisor asks me to do a last minute clean and asks if I wanted to say later for some overtime. I had an hour drive home. I said “no thanks, not tonight” not thinking it would make my life Worse. Supervisor makes a face. I leave and go tf home and dissolve into my bed.

Then, Thursday. Oh, dreaded, terrible, horrid Thursday. I’m starting to get the hang of things but I’m still slow af. I get into work, and my Supervisor condescendingly tells me I miss meat and a bunch of other things while cleaning the night before, and that I need to be more attentive. I was never told the proper cleaning process and what did or didn’t need to be wiped down at all ever, so that’s fun. Supervisor then tells me I clean things wrong in general, that the way I wipe counters doesn’t actually clean them and that I need to do it a specific way. Okay, weird, but I’ll try harder. First shipment comes in, we prep bags, and I get placed in station #2, which is rolling bags and placing them in the stomachers. Then, oh, then. Things start spicing up.

First, one bag popped. Blood meat chunk water starts spilling out of the bottom. A runs over to stop the machine and tells me to keep going while she cleans. I continue rolling. K snaps at me and runs over to a stomacher, basically snarling at me that I need to stop the stomachers when a bag pops. I hadn’t even noticed it popped because I was trying to keep up rolling with her pace. Then three pops, and then four. I notice four soon enough to stop it. Every stomacher is totally covered in meat on the inside.

Now, if y’all are like me, you had no fucking clue what a stomacher was until the first time you saw the word. It’s a big heavy ass metal box with two paddles on the inside that pump back and forth to agitate samples placed inside.

To open it up and get inside, you have to grab the front panel while it’s open (like in the picture above) and lift it up off the bottom hinge. THEN you have to flip it towards you and around, so the outer wall is resting against outer wall on top, and the inside of the front is facing up. It sprays blood and meat EVERYWHERE.

Did I mention these things are heavy as fuck?

Supervisor is alerted to problem. Supervisor turns to K and says “have her clean this up” even though I was standing...right...there......two feet away.....and also I have a name. K turns to me, snorts, and says “have fun with that” and then goes back to filling.

I am bewildered. And grossed out.

So I start at it. I take the trays out from under each stomacher, dump out the meat and blood into the trash (I get some on myself), clean the trays, open up the front panels of the stomachers (I get more meat on myself), try to get the meat off as much as I can and as thoroughly as I can because I was just yelled at for missing meat so since they were going to be hand-stomaching I thought taking my time would be fine. I’m halfway through cleaning, two stomachers down, and my supervisor comes rushing over.

“When this happens you need to go faster. You need to clean one of these out in three to five minutes maximum because the priority is the bag filler, and if you can’t keep up with her, then you’re holding up the whole production and are responsible for slowing down the entire lab.” He then grabs my bleach and paper towels and cleans the whole stomacher that I had literally just gotten all the meat off of and shows me how to do exactly everything I was doing right before he got there the exact same way I was doing it but fast. I can tell he is angry. He throws his shit away and leaves me to clean everything up alone so he can go talk to K.

I finish cleaning. I am stewing in my brain about how much I hate my job. I go to the bathroom and cry.

I go do internet security training and drivers training. The second shipment comes. My supervisor aggressively tells me to take my break. I go eat lunch.

I come back from lunch. there is my Supervisor, A, and the other new-hire Tim (not his real name he just feels like a tim tbh) doing the shipment. They are taking their time and actually training Tim on how to roll bags and the correct bucket order. A rolls some and Tim watches. Tim rolls some himself. I come over. Supervisor and A immediately leave for lunch as soon as K comes back from her lunch after me. K fills at a normal human pace. I become bin runner for Tim as he is somehow incapable of moving his bins himself. I am bitter. We finish shipment, Tim is sent to do training, I’m told to clean the lab up. I am fuming.

I do more training. Third shipment comes in. I ask “Hey Supervisor can I help?” He snaps no, so I finish my training. I get locked out of the other training site. I go to help. Supervisor leaves me with K. She goes the speed of light. I aggressively keep up with her bc there are still no stomachers being used, and that shit I can handle. She doesn’t say a word to me when I try to make small talk.

Shipment 3 finishes, I get to clean (surprise). At this point I don’t care, I only have a half hour until I can go home and I am counting by the SECONDS. Time hits. I leave.

I get into my car and just cry. I call my boyfriend and cry on my drive home. I get into my house and cry to my mom. I feel overwhelmed and cry to my dad. I feel trapped and wasted and bamboozled and stupid for taking this job. I don’t want to go back. I would rather die than go bad. I am very sad. It is very hard to be openly disliked for being new for 8hrs a day. I type up a resignation email through tears. I go to bed.

In the morning, I edit the email. Then I send it. My boss asks me to reconsider. I say no. I don’t go to work on Friday.

And thus, I am back to the job hunt. I should be going to a few interviews this coming week. Honestly anyplace is better than that shitty lab.

I never want to work with food ever again. Beef kinda turns my stomach right now, too.

Yikes.

#personal #blue babbles

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m00nslippers · 6 years ago

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All of our questions were answered in RHATO #31! OR WERE THEY? (They weren’t, like at all.)

When we left off in #30, Jason was confronting the guy who claims to be Willis Todd in the basement of an abandoned creepy prison made over into some kind of drug distribution center/android factory/still a prison. That’s pretty much right where they pick up. Oh and also the cover says:

They really don’t, though. One guy dies. One. This cover was an outright lie. There are ZERO zombies in this issue! WHY WOULD YOU LIE TO ME LIKE THIS DC?

There’s a flashback of ‘Willis’ looking back on how Rebirth has gone so far and saying some pretty poignant stuff about how Gotham hasn’t treated Jason the way he deserves. I’m not going to lie, I’m really into the Jason as the promised son/savior allegories. The Damned Prince of Gotham is an iconic epithet.

THIS is where we left off, and we learn Willis is calling himself Solitary and starts calling Jason ‘son’ but Jay isn’t having it.

Jason, you’re like two or three years older than this kid. And you’ve been way worse than kidnapped when you were way younger. Seriously, it’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s traumatized.

ALSO, JayMig, you guys. He’s LEGAL. Ship ship ship ship ship....(it’s okay if you don’t get on my ship I’m just going to be weird over here in this corner...)

Solitary: You missed me! *crowbar wooshes past him* Jason: I ain’t missed nuthin’! *crowbar hits Bunker’s prison-vat* Solitary: Ulp! (no he literally said ulp! in one panel.) Jason: You’ve been bamboozled, SON!

Classic Jason Todd.

I guess Solitary can control perception? I thought he was literally just omnipresent like he was literally everywhere and nowhere. That’s what he said to Ma Gunn, his ‘mother’. But whatever. This is Lobdell, he forgets what he’s doing halfway through doing it and just starts doing something else entirely.

Bunker is Mexican, if you guys didn’t know. It actually makes some sense that he’s here. in Mexico. Also, canonically gay.

( Ship ship ship ship ship )

Technically I’m not sure they actually met in that comic. It was a crossover event in New 52, Roy and Starfire and the Teen Titans (including Bunker) fought zombies, or something while Tim and Jason were captured by the Joker and Jason actually got to show off a little by psyching out the Joker and shooting him while blindfolded and breaking him and Tim out of trouble after getting kidnapped (those two sure do get kidnapped a lot when they are together...)

Also, SUPER REFRESHING for a hero to run into the Red Hood and be all, “Hey man, let’s be friends!” instead of immediately belike “What!? The Red Hood? Yuck, you’re a bad guy! Imma fight you!”

Dog has been around for 2 issues and she’s already the most useful teammate Jason has ever had. Jason and Dog, besties forever!

You really didn’t though, Jay. We have no idea who this guy is, how he got your old costume, what he wants or why he’s here. All we know is he wants you to go back to Gotham.

WHY CAN’T YOU BE HONEST WITH US!? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?

They were fighting right before this panel, and the fight was pretty good too, they seem to be evenly matched in terms of fighting ability. Maybe Wingman was slightly better, but Jason had a Doggo on his side so it evened out.

Unrelated, but I actually like this artist and what they are doing, everything looks really clean, the action is very readable and the anatomy is excellent, I’m not a fan of Jason’s haircut but luckily we already know he gets his longer hair back in an issue or two, thank god.

Solitary comes out as Jason’s dad. Apparently when he was in prison he volunteered for some experiments on people’s minds to try to get out early. We saw a little of this foreshadowed like ten issues ago. The experiments were done with tech stolen from Lex Luthor, so he hired Artemis to go fuck them up for stealing it and using it on people. In the fight it messed Wilis up and combined his mind with a few other inmates into his body or something. So that’s what happened to him.

I think it’s trying to be implied that this prison Jason is at where Solitary is operating out of was literally the prison where it all happened, but there are a few problems with that, namely 1) they don’t send American prisoners to Mexican prisons, and 2) that prison had water around it in the panels where it showed it happening and this prison is in the middle of a dessert so who knows what’s going on here.

Okay, so a Gotham thug getting a batman tattoo after coming out of a fight with him without going to prison is the kind of thing a Gotham thug would totally brag about. “See this scar? I got it from Batman, yo! And then I got a bat tattoo to commemorate it!”

Guess what though, Willis/Solitary doesn’t have the tattoo. SOLITARY ISN’T HIS DAD. Maybe this guy thinks he’s Willis but he’s actually not, he just has his memories or perceptions or whatever. He was one of the minds combined into this dude. This explains why Jason walked right past him more than once, he wasn’t really his dad (although with ‘perception’ powers it wouldn't actually have mattered even if he was). Jason has so many shitty wannabe dads it’s crazy. Batman, Solitary, Joker, Ra’s, get in line, folks.

Jason straight up kills this guy, no flinching. I love how Jason is so matter of fact about everything in this issue, Solitary says he’s his dad, and Jason is just like, “Okay, no, and I can prove it.” No melodramatic gasps or anything.

It amazes me that people seem to think Jason is so overemotional and angry all the time, and can’t get anything done because he’s too busy being mad, when he does shit like this without making any kind of deal about it or shouting or anything. Jason gets angry and emotional about ONE THING, and that’s his ACTUAL FAMILY BEING SHITTY TO HIM. A.K.A batfam stuff. Pretty much whenever he’s actually mad, and acting crazy it’s justified, he’s in serious emotional distress. He’s not some super angry murder boy all the time! I mean, he does murder people...but not because he’s just angry, it’s always a calculated move.

A slight time skip (a week).

*cries* WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?

I think Lobdell is as pissed off as we are that Roy was killed off in a stupid way for stupid drama. Because he’s been really selling us Jason being super sad and messed up about it and even tried to give him a good send off in the Annual. Like, I complain a lot about Lobdell, but at least I think he actually likes Jason and tries to do right by him in his stories, he’s just really scatterbrained about storylines sometimes. Like he needs someone to say, “Yeah, maybe not this, but this stuff is good.” That’s kind of the comics industry in general though, they don’t have anyone making sure characters act in character. They need someone vetoing some of the more stupid ideas, but they don’t seem to have any of that.

The New Outlaws! Red Hood, Bunker, Dog and Wingman.

Wingman is...some old guy. We see his face but it’s no one obvious. Clearly he has some connection to Jason. But he’s definitely not Roy, unless something REALLY weird is going on.

I still think there’s a good chance that he’s a future Jason from another dimension. But there’s also a chance that he’s Jason’s REAL FATHER since we know Solitary wasn’t. Hell, maybe he’s got the same powers Solitary had and it was him who went to see Ma Gunn before because she seemed pretty sure that guy was really Willis Todd, and he’s changing how he looks so Jay won’t know. We’ll see I guess.

And Bunker is just like, oh, you’re gonna go back to Gotham, fuck up Penguin and take all his stuff and start running a mob? I’m down. I don’t know his character (except that Lobdell created him and purposefully made him not angsty), I’m going to have to read some old Teen Titans, but I’m into it so far. He’s just super puppy-like, helpful, “I don’t know what’s happening but let’s be friends!” I can imagine Jason just blinking at him and being like, “Just...what even are you? Why are you so nice?! Why do you even like me!? Why are you even here!?” Miguel, all like, *shrug* “You saved my life and you’re hot?” Jason, “...well that’s a reason, I guess.”

YEEEEES. Tell me the old costume is making a come back! Also, Jason in a Trench Coat is the shit. He looks so sexy, you guys. I’m so ready for Mob Boss Jason. And Miguel is his gay right hand lover I mean man. YES.

( Ship ship ship ship ship )

Yeah, I’m getting so many “Wingman is from the future” vibes right now. He’s either Jason himself or someone he knows, but from the future/another dimension. Or maybe he can see the future.

Well, that was it. It was pretty good even if I was raising my eyebrows a few times at all the NOT explaining we were getting. I’m actually kind of excited for next issue though, you guys! Jason is going to mess up Penguin and take the Ice Burg Lounge, I’m so up for this!

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hufflly-puffs · 6 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 17: The Four Champions

“‘Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?’ Dumbledore asked calmly.” – You know everyone always blames Michael Gambon for playing this scene wrong, but honestly the complete adaption of book 4 was a mess, from start to finish, which makes me wonder if anyone has actually read the book. Strangely enough I think they did though, because the movie only makes sense if you know the book. It’s a wild ride, really.

I just realized that McGonagall refers to Harry as… well Harry, which is weird, because I think she always addresses him as Mr. Potter. Which come to think of it, all teachers address the students with their last names. Is this common in Great Britain? In my school (in good old Germany) we were addressed with our first names up until the last two years, where most of us were off age, and teachers started to address us with our last names (which was a strange thing to hear from someone who knew you that long).

I wonder if at this point Barty Crouch Sen. was already under the Imperius Curse. They ask him, as an objective judge, what to do, and his answer is to follow the rules, that state that everyone whose name the Goblet offers has to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Which is obviously a very Mr. Crouch thing to say, as he loves rules, but also very much the answer someone would give who wants Harry to compete.

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh? […]Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it […]It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy’s name in that Goblet […] Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object![…] It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament … I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category […]There are those who’ll turn innocent occasions to their advantage.” – All of these sentences are said by Moody, and they are basically the villain giving his great monologue how he did it, we just don’t know it yet. He describes exactly what he did and why – to kill Harry. And yet nobody in the room takes him serious, they all think it is just his paranoia speaking again, except for maybe Dumbledore. And much later when Dumbledore realizes who Moody is he might remembers this scene. He knew exactly what happened not because he pretended to think like a Dark Wizard but because he was the Dark Wizard all along.

Both Karkaroff and Madame Maxime are enraged because Hogwarts has two champions now, therefore double the chance to win this tournament. None of them voices any concern that a 14-year-old wizard might not be skilled enough to compete. And neither does Dumbledore actually. It all comes down to the magical binding contract, which makes me wonder what exactly would have happened if Harry simply wouldn’t have participated? He wasn’t allowed to and he didn’t want to. What are the consequences of breaking such a contract? Are they worse than endangering a child? And if Dumbledore, as Sirius suggested, has read the signs, if he indeed hired Moody because he though Harry might be in danger how could he let this happen? He wants to protect Harry and yet he does nothing to prevent him from taking part in the tournament.

“Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the Tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.” – Wait, what? They are all in the final year, with the exception of Harry, meaning they would leave school without any sort of degree. (I wonder if O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s are international standard or only taken at Hogwarts? And if they have other silly names in foreign languages?) And without that they couldn’t apply to any job. Or maybe being the Triwizard Champion was enough? I mean Harry never finished his education and still became an Auror, because apparently defeating Voldemort was enough experience.

And Mr. Crouch still doesn’t know Percy’s name, which is supposed to be funny, but also quite telling. They have worked together for months by now, his father is a respected member of the Ministry, the Weasleys are among the oldest wizard families and yet he can’t bother to learn his name, which is really disrespectful.

Oh Ron.

#Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire #the four champions #chapter notes #gof

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confessionsofbirthmothers · 6 years ago

Link

Forty Australians have been duped into donating more than $480,000 to a charity scam that coerced children into a fake orphanage.

The Australians were fooled into thinking they were supporting Nepalese orphans when, in fact, the children were not orphans at all.

The Nepalese charity responsible had also deceived Australian charity Forget Me Not into supporting the cause by falsely claiming the kids had lost both of their parents. The Nepalese charity even falsified the parents’ death certificates to show to the Australian operation these were legitimate orphans.

Aussie donor Mel Manley with some of the Forget Me Not girls.Source:Supplied

The non-government organisation, Malai Na Birisu Bal Griha, hired child traffickers who manipulated illiterate parents in poor areas of Nepal and stole their girls away from them to live in a Kathmandu orphanage funded entirely by Australian donations.

Neither the Australian charity partner nor the donors had any idea about the scam until years later.

One of those donors was Jason Wall, 52, who donated $60 a month to sponsor a child named Sangeeta. When he was told of the scam, he felt a mixed bag of emotions. “There was both shock and sadness,” he said. “You just question — how the hell did this happen?”

Mel Manley with one of the girls from the Nepalese orphanage.Source:Supplied

Craig Manley, 51, and his wife Mel, 48 who run a McDonald’s in Bundaberg, felt “hugely deceived and disappointed” when they discovered the details. “My wife and I visited the orphanage every year, armed with presents — make-up, hair clips and cards from other donors like us saying how much the girls were loved,” Mr Manley said.

In addition to the orphan deception, another nasty shock was waiting the Australian donors.

“We discovered those gifts were stripped from the girls and either sold off or distributed amongst the orphanage staff’s families,” Mr Manley said, adding that the staff refused to return a TV and table tennis table he’d intended for the girls. “Not all the money we donated went to the kids either. They were skimming off the top. We discovered falsified budgets.”

The couple heard “murmurings” that people had arrived at the orphanage claiming to know the girls, but were told they were turned away “for security reasons, to protect the girls”.

Aussie donor Craig Manley.Source:Supplied

“There was a twinge in the back of my mind thinking, I wonder what that’s about?” Mr Manley said. “We were later told the kids were threatened that if they told us mum or dad showed up at the front door, there’d be retribution, they’d be cast out on the street.”

It wasn’t just the donors who felt cheated. Forget Me Not chief executive officer Andrea Nave said she was “shocked and angry” at the discovery. “I thought, we have a huge problem here,” she told news.com.au. “I can’t imagine my children (she has four daughters) being separated from me and desperately wanting me to find them.”

Forget Me Not now works to reunite falsified orphans with their families. When the Manleys saw this “excellent work”, they actually substantially increased their monthly donations of $1000 a month to the Australian charity.

Craig Manley and one of the so-called orphans.Source:Supplied

Before becoming CEO, Ms Nave ran the charity’s “sponsor a child” program, facilitating communication between the donor and the child. She had to call all 40 donors and tell them the outrageous truth. “I was very transparent, telling them what we’d discovered without hiding anything,” Ms Nave said.

Forget Me Not was founded by Lars Olsen, who was inspired to set up the charity after seeing the poverty and orphaned kids in Nepal on a backpacking trip.

When he returned home to Hervey Bay, Queensland, he set up the charity with his sister and a friend. A year later, he persuaded Ms Nave, who he knew from acting school, to join.

Forget Me Not Australia now works to reunite the Nepalese girls with their families.Source:Supplied

Forget Me Not Children’s Home was set up for six little girls in 2006. Over several years, and with financial support from the Hervey Bay community, it grew to support 21 girls. But none of them knew the nasty shock in store.

Their intentions were honourable. “We focused on Nepalese girls because they’re often denied an education and vulnerable to sex trafficking” Ms Nave said.

She was told the six orphaned girls were an overflow from overcrowded, dysfunctional orphanages. “They were malnourished and we were told they were sisters. We were even given the death certificates of their parents,” she said. She now knows these were falsified documents.

Forget Me Not Australia chief executive officer Andrea Nave.Source:Supplied

The shock was eventually discovered when Eva, an American who spoke Nepalese, was hired in 2009 to work at the orphanage, wholly funded by Hervey Bay residents.

“Eva had been making notes and said ‘look at the things these kids have been saying, I’ve been writing it down’,” Ms Nave said. Eva had done some detective work to piece together a jigsaw that led to a horrifying conclusion.

“Phrases would crop up like ‘I want to go home’,” Ms Nave said. “Then, as Eva built more trust with the girls, they’d reveal more. ‘I want to see my brother,’ one would say. Then eventually, ‘I miss my mum’ and ‘I’m not an orphan’.”

Some of the children who were placed in the orphanage.Source:Supplied

Ms Nave now knows the truth.

“The board of the Nepalese NGO we partnered with knew full well where these girls came from. They were trafficked, coerced into it,” she said. She says false pretences were used.

“A child collector went through the remote, poor districts and offered kids a better education. Illiterate parents would sign a document they cannot read or understand with the press of a thumb. Their children were being given away and they didn’t know. Each trafficker got around $A1500 per kid — poor families would cobble together the money.”

Malai Na Birisu Bal Griha is still registered with the Nepal Government’s Social Welfare Council, although with no activity.

At the point the truth was uncovered, there was a split in the organisation that is now Forget Me Not Australia. Ms Nave has since dedicated her life to tracing the girls’ real families, reuniting them and supporting them to get a decent education and standard of living.

But Mr Olsen, who won Young Queenslander of the Year and the Premier’s Award for his efforts, dissociated himself from the organisation he’d set up and his parents stopped sponsoring children.

“He felt too deceived that these kids weren’t orphans. He was also of the opinion the children were better off in our care, not with their families,” Ms Nave said.

But Mr Olsen disputes this point.

“I 100 per cent supported the decision for the girls to be reunited with their families, especially if we could get them a safe house and continuing education in the meantime, while we searched for their parents,” he told news.com.au.

He fully supports the charity’s work.

“Reflecting back, I genuinely believe the organisation is changing lives for the better and doing terrific work,” Mr Olsen said.

Donor Jason Wall said: “Things evolved so quickly. Lars was young. He still had lots of learning and growing up to do. He was baffled, bamboozled and shocked.”

Forget Me Not Australia now reunites children with their families, asking from village to village through the foothills and valleys of Nepal, then stays in touch to support them through any hardships.

Australia became the world’s first country to recognise orphanage trafficking as a form of modern-day slavery this month. Statistics show 80 per cent of supposed orphans have one living parent and Asian orphanages are trafficking to meet volunteer demand. It’s a phenomenon known as voluntourism. The 2017 State of Children report revealed there were 567 registered childcare homes still in Nepal housing 16,536 children, but there was also an unknown number of unregistered homes.

A Rethink Orphanages spokesperson encouraged Australians to direct their money to families, rather than orphanages.

“Donors and volunteers who have unwittingly been supporting the orphanage industry can play a key role in raising awareness of this issue, and advocating for family-based care for children rather than orphanages,” the spokesperson said.

It took 18 months for Forget Me Not Australia to successfully reunite the traceable families of 18 of the 21 girls.

“I now think it’s too easy to open a charity in Australia. Anyone can do it. You don’t need any skills or experience. We were just average people, trying to do the right thing,” Ms Nave said.

#adoption #orphans #orphanage #scam

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your-dietician · 3 years ago

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'You have to just love it'

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/sports/you-have-to-just-love-it/

'You have to just love it'

Jazz Chisholm knows that baseball is difficult, that there remains a significant gulf he must cross to match his significant talent and overwhelming charisma to his production.

Right now, this is who Jazz is: A rookie infielder for the Miami Marlins whose stat line says his production is just above league average, but his swag suggests he’s anything but.

This is who Jazz could be: A dynamic, powerful, five-tool force, whose desire to disrupt the game could vault him atop the short list of burgeoning baseball stars with ever-elusive crossover appeal.

This is how he plans to get there: By sacrificing nothing – certainly not the vicious bat speed from his swing that ensures the home runs he does hit go very, very far. And certainly not the exuberance that vaulted him from the Bahamas to the big leagues, endearing him to fans and perhaps enabling him to join some of his athletic heroes – Kobe, LeBron, KD – as a wonder known only by one name.

And what’s the tune Jazz lives by?

“To this day,” he says, “I just always try to tell kids to be themselves. Don’t let nobody change you. You go out there and play the way you want to go play.

“That’s why I always do the crazy hair colors, I do my dances and I just have fun out there because I just want everybody to know, it’s OK to have fun on the baseball field.

“You know?”

If you don’t, you probably will soon.

Jazz Chisholm looks on before a game against the Braves.

Mark Brown, Getty Images

‘Why not bring it into the game?’

Perhaps you found out on Opening Day, when Chisholm fulfilled a promise made to Marlins ace Sandy Alcantara. Chisholm, whose hair changes color with the ease of South Florida weather patterns, was planning a platinum blonde look.

Yet as spring training wound down and Chisholm – who debuted on Sept. 1 in the pandemic-shortened 2020 – had a shot to make his first Opening Day roster, Alcantara had a suggestion.

Make the team, he said, and you dye your hair blue.

“I said, ‘I got you,’” Chisholm recalls. “It was history from there.”

Chisholm came through, breaking camp with the squad and showing up for the opener with a tone resembling a Louie-Bloo Raspberry Otter Pop.

Perhaps you noticed a couple weeks later, when Chisholm hit his second home run of the season, a towering shot off Atlanta’s Charlie Morton, and then, befitting his significant basketball skills, debuted a euro step as he crossed home plate.

Contrived?

Nope. Just a part of his personality, reflexive as a fist bump or handshake.

“I will walk around the clubhouse euro-stepping on people,” he says. “I’ll be in front of someone and last second, I’ll give ‘em a euro, you know, like, ‘Get out of the way.’ It’s something I do all day, every day.

“So why not bring it into the game? Why not misdirect it going into home, and then step on it?”

Chisholm has nine homers and 10 steals in 51 games.

Jasen Vinlove, USA TODAY Sports

It’s not like Chisholm is pimping home runs that scraped the top of the wall.

He is the only player this season to go deep on pitches of at least 100 mph, doing it first off the great Jacob deGrom on April 18 and then the Phillies’ Jose Alvarado a month later. He is, in fact, the only player with two such homers since pitch-tracking began in 2008.

Listed at 5-11 and 184 pounds, Chisholm – full name Jasrado Hermis Arrington Chisholm – seemingly manifested his skills by watching his grandmother play softball.

Yeah, Grandma could turn on one.

“The small person with the pop? Yeah, I think I got that from her, too,” he says.

Patricia Coakley, now 77, played on the Bahamian national softball team, and played the sport long enough for Jazz to see her compete both in slow- and fastpitch formats. He saw himself in her, from the aforementioned quick bat to the tenacious baserunning approach to her play at shortstop.

And so when Chisholm was barely old enough to hold a bat, he called dibs on the position, fully intending to never leave.

“I just loved seeing her play shortstop. I fell in love with watching her, too,” he says. “It was always like that from when I was probably 4 and 5 – just run straight to shortstop.

“Grandma’s a shortstop, I’m a shortstop.”

Clearly, he picked an excellent role model, though there weren’t many others locally. Just eight players from the Bahamas preceded Chisholm to the majors, with infielder Andre Rodgers – who played from 1967 to ’77 – the only one to hold down anything resembling a full-time role. Antoan Richardson was the most recent, serving largely as a pinch runner from 2011 to 2014, and he’s now a coach for the San Francisco Giants.

Young Jazz focused on his grandmother’s exploits and fixated on televised games featuring Ken Griffey Jr., Barry Bonds and Derek Jeter.

And was convinced he’d play on their level.

“I always told myself that I was going to be a big leaguer, from a very young age,” he says. “It was not really tough believing I was going to be a big leaguer.”

Chisholm played plenty of ball stateside as a child, often in Miami, and attended a prep school in Kansas for a spell, eventually signing with Arizona as an international free agent. While he’s sanguine about his own rise, he’s humbled when he ponders his impact back home.

“Every time I go to the Bahamas I see a little kid telling me, ‘Hey, you made me start playing baseball,’” he says. “It makes me smile nonstop when I hear that.”

They have a dynamic hero to follow, even if he’s an unfinished product. Chisholm is on pace to hit 20 home runs and steal 20 bases this season; he clubbed his ninth home run of the season Thursday night in a loss to the Washington Nationals, pushing his batting average to .258 and his OPS to .766.

With just 276 plate appearances behind him, Chisholm has room to grow. That makes him a good match for Miami, which acquired him from Arizona for pitcher Zac Gallen in 2019. “I love the people out here,” he says. “This is just the life that I feel like I was here to live. My kind of place.”

Chisholm celebrates a home run against the Mets.

Andy Marlin, USA TODAY Sports

Fresh fish

The Marlins are 31-43 and lagging in the NL East, a pitching-centric club with a lineup that looks emaciated even within this season’s historically grim league environment.

Yet for a franchise dogged for decades by ham-handed ownership, they have a decidedly fresh feel.

They have a quietly beautiful ballpark still not yet a decade old, yet new owner Bruce Sherman bears none of the blame for bamboozling the city into a hideously bad stadium deal. In Jeter they have a CEO with star power but also patience, and the forward-thinking mentality to hire the first woman as a major league GM, the highly-regarded Kim Ng.

Alcantara and rookie lefty Trevor Rogers are worthy aces, with the injured Sixto Sanchez also capable of holding that role. At Class AA Jacksonville, pitching prospects Max Meyer and Edward Cabrera join outfielder J.J. Bleday, all consensus top 100 prospects nearing the big leagues.

In Miami, Chisholm defers to veterans such as Jesus Aguilar and Miguel Rojas, who when healthy nudges Chisholm to second base. From a baseball standpoint, Chisholm says he goes to great lengths not to “get cocky with the veterans.”

Yet they share a desire to keep things loose, from the clubhouse to the kicks; Rojas has long used social media to amplify his shoe game, while Chisholm has donned footwear celebrating concepts as disparate as Miami Vice and Oreo cookies.

Earlier this week, he debuted a gold chain that commemorated a remarkable leaping catch against the Tampa Bay Rays.

“The Miami Marlins’ whole roster right now – you look at what they’re wearing on their feet, even down to the coaches sometimes, it’s just straight heat, I’m not going to lie,” says Chisholm. “Everybody is just into that stuff – having the swag, having fun on the field.”

It all may seem a bit excessive for a second-division club, yet the Marlins also made the playoffs in 2020 and swept the Chicago Cubs out of them. Manager Don Mattingly says the veteran tone set by the likes of Aguilar and Rojas “helps your club create an atmosphere that guys like playing in.” He is confident Chisholm will develop greater consistency both in routine and performance, calling his development arc “pretty normal” for a first-year player.

As for Chisholm, he’s prepared for the roller-coaster the game provides. His homer Thursday broke a 15-day streak without a dinger, a period filled with too many weak ground balls. It is a hallmark of the game he chose that he might go days without making an impact, when instead of euro stepping over the plate he’s making an abrupt right turn back to the dugout.

He cannot control his fate in a manner that LeBron can or Kobe could, and if he’s given just one pitch to turn and burn on, he may very well miss it.

Chisholm knows this well and chooses not to dwell on it. Like the island kid who just knew he’d be a big leaguer some day, Chisholm may be right when he believes this game will reward his undying love for it.

“It’s not frustrating,” he says of failure, “because you know how hard the game is. It’s just like, ‘Man, I’m just praying I get another one. Give me another one.’ It’s not really like, ‘Man, I missed my only chance.’ No, because you still got two more strikes to play with. And you might get the worst swing of your life off, but it can be a hit.

“This game can really mess with your mind – because you could be hitting the ball as hard as you want every day and not get a hit. And then you can go break four bats in one day and have four hits. That’s why you have to just love it. Because even though it takes away, it gives back.

“And it gives back big.”

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