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stones-x-bones · 4 years ago

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The Real Gamble (Pt. 2) || Mina and Bex

TIMING: Current (part 2 of this) PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @inbextween SUMMARY: Here’s where the real gamble comes in. Will it pay off? CONTENT: Underaged drinking, Brief Domestic Abuse mention, NSFW-ish (Kissing)

Once the bartender had gone off with their drinks, Bex readjusted herself and smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. It was something she always did when she got nervous. “Well, it’s, you know,” she started off again, leaning fully against the counter now, hoping the low lights behind them wouldn’t show off her red cheeks too much, “that’s the wonderful part about history. To me, at least. Humans have changed so much since they first came about, but there’s so many things that have stayed the same. So many things that we’ve chosen to preserve, so we can remember. So we can be better.” She knew she probably had that stupid, dreamy look on her face as she talked, but she was never able to help herself. Once she got talking about history and how much the past really informs the present, she couldn’t stop. “Every cycle is just a repeat of the same things, just slightly changed. It’s incredible, don’t you think?” She finally turned to look at Mina again, eyes sparkling. The other girl’s wide-eyed stare wasn’t lost on her, but she chose not to mention it yet. “Much better than the city of Chicago. So,” she said abruptly, “you explained how to play Blackjack, but you still haven’t taught me how exactly card counting works,” she continued, scooting a bit closer. “Wanna give it a shot?”

Swallowing, Mina managed to clear her throat and her head, honestly just grateful that the bartender had come along before she’d made an absolute fool of herself. Now, at least, she was only a partial fool. “I think that’s always been one of the most beautiful things about humanity, to me, the capability to change so much and yet remain so similar to where you started. I mean, a lot of major things have changed: the fact that human sacrifice isn’t a big deal anymore is pretty great, and I really enjoy the internet, personally, but humans still play games and still form societies and still spread themselves out as far as they can go.” That was one of the things that she’d always thought, more than anyone else’s teachings, that made humanity better. Fae, other supernaturals, so many of their rituals, for all that they’ve managed to blend into human society, were still archaic and secular. They looked down on humanity, but, honestly, how could they not see their incredible marvels? How could they not want so desperately to be a part of something so big? “You’re right, it’s absolutely incredible.” She clasped her hands together. “Right, I haven’t explained card counting while we were at the table because I didn’t want to get thrown out for it. But, essentially, what I’m doing is keeping track of the cards that I see, the values of those cards, and how many cards are in the deck to essentially predict the probability of what type of cards will come next: something of high value, or something of low value. And then I make bets or don’t based on that number, depending on whether or not I want to win or lose the hand.”

“It’s more than that, even,” Bex said, “it’s not just that we form societies, but how. And how there’s always some form of community at the center, some need to draw people together. Whether it’s religion or protection or common goals. The first civilizations formed not out of necessity, but out of want-- to make life easier and to spread the amount of work. To share. The leap from hunter gatherers-- cavemen-- to a collective society? It was astounding. It still is.” She let out a content sigh, the smile on her face natural. When was the last time she’d raved about history this much with someone? Probably when she’d last spoken to Professor Campbell, but the feeling was different here. She felt more at ease here. “We’re explorers,” she added on after a moment, “always have been, always will be. Whether it's our own planet, or the stars, or, well-- a place we created. Like the internet.” The bartender returned with their drinks and set each one down in front of them before nodding and heading to another needy patron. Bex grabbed hers and slid the other to Mina. “Sorry...I know you didn’t ask for a lecture on humanity. But I did warn you, I don’t know when to shut up sometimes.” Taking a sip of her drink would certainly shut her up, though, so she did just that, focusing back on Mina as she explained what all it took. And when she was done, Bex could only stare for a moment. “See,” she started, “you say that as if that’s all easy but sometimes I can’t even keep track of the number of meals I’ve eaten in a day, let alone that many cards all at once and then also calculate probability from that. Sheesh, you really underplayed this.” A chuckle, though, as she took another sip. She’d never had a cosmo before, but it wasn’t bad. Strong, but not bad. She hoped it wouldn’t mess with her painkillers too much. C’est la vie, she supposed. “Did you learn from someone or did you figure it out all by yourself?”

“See, and that’s-- yes!” Mina nodded. “That’s it, actually, how societies came together and, I don’t know, keep coming together? The, ah, the connectedness of people, of humanity. I’ve always liked learning about that.” She smiled. “I’ve always liked that, too, the exploring, the desire not to just stay in one area, secluded and never being more.” She should, as a nix, want something stable, something lasting. A lake or a river bed to stay in and protect, a piece of nature that belonged to her and her kin. But Mina didn’t grow up like that. She’d never had those thoughts, those desires. She’d attached and detached herself from places her entire life, and she couldn’t imagine not doing that anymore. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. I like hearing you talk about it. Besides, I could use a lecture on humanity every now and then.” She took her a sip of her drink. The last time she’d had vodka had been straight from a bottle two years before with the daughter of a Russian slayer her father had been working with, the girl more fascinated than disgusted by Mina as she asked questions about Fae that Mina just didn’t know the answer to. What would she know about Fae when she’d never been never really been around them? The cosmo was much sweeter, though she still felt that bite. “I really-- I mean, you don’t actually have to remember the numbers, just highs or lows.” She shrugged. “I learned myself. My schooling was kind of my own, so I just learned what I wanted after I learned what was useful. I, ah, didn’t realize that I knew how to count cards until I was… actually counting cards. Which is why I got in so much trouble the first time I did it.”

“Connection is the most important part of a culture,” Bex said, “it’s what creates a healthy, functioning society. If people can’t connect to each other then--” she paused for a moment, reflecting on her own words. Connection. It was such a strange concept to Bex. She hadn’t had many opportunities to connect to people before, as a child, as a teengaer, even as a young adult. She was isolated and awkward and anxious, and even the connections she did make always turned out wrong or bad or toxic. She was sure from an outside perspective, it all made sense, but to her, it was her own fault, her own failure. And her parents agreed. “--well, then, there’s just nothing.” She finished rather somberly and tried to move the thoughts away from such a low place, sipping the drink again. Maybe a larger amount than she should have, but unbeknownst to most people, Bex’s first drink of alcohol had been vodka and it had been when she was twelve. It seemed her father’s taste ran in the family. She gave a short laugh at Mina’s next comment. “Couldn’t we all?” She nearly rolled her eyes, then, pushing away from the counter and taking Mina’s hand again. “God, you really need to follow my wisdom and just let me compliment you. I know it’ll work out in the end. Now c’mon,” she urged, “I wanna see you in action again. You get that funny, smug look on your face when you play and I wanna see it.”

“I agree, totally, though I’m, ah, I’m bad at those. Connections.” Mina kind of swirled her drink a bit, though she smiled to sort of lessen what she was saying. Recovering, she said, “But you already know that.” She’d never really made connections to anything that was a part of a code. Except that she’d founded so much of what she was on that fact, and now she was having to rewrite all of it. “You know, I actually think a lot of people have the whole humanity thing down. It’s just how they use it that matters.” She allowed Bex to take her hand, careful not to spill her drink, and lead her back to the main floor. “Sorry, I’m not particularly used to it. Ah, accepting compliments. Not my area.” She felt nice, though, when Bex said she was going to keep trying, even if it made her cheeks warm a bit with embarrassment. She looked over at the tables, deciding that it was probably a bad idea to go back to the one that they’d previously been at, but the only one open had the leprechauns at it. Mina pulled a face but went in that direction. “Okay, I’m not sure if I trust you, now. I’ve never been called smug in my entire life.” But she pulled up a seat for Bex and sat down herself, putting her chips down and motioning for the dealer to deal her in. The leprechauns turned, and she could barely make out their eyes staring at her before she looked away. Fae unity or not, she detested leprechauns.

“Well, me, too,” Bex shrugged, “all we can do is keep trying, though, right? And...we have each other, right?” And though Mina’s smile was soft and it cut through the more hardened part of the sentence, Bex could still feel the sorrow behind the words. “You know you can do both, yeah? Connect to nature and other people?” A little lighter this time, teasing in her voice as she squeezed Mina’s hand. She wanted that other smile to be on her face, not this one. “Hmmm,” she hummed in thought, “I guess you could have a point there. But hey, don’t apologize for that. Like I said, I’ll keep trying.” She wouldn’t mind doing that at all. She turned her head enough to make sure Mina saw the smile on her own face, pinching her eyes closed ever so slightly. It was only a little hypocritical, considering Bex herself often fought to accept compliments given to her, when they didn’t concern her looks or attractiveness. But how many people did she know who cared to compliment her intellect or enthusiasm?

Once they were on the floor again, Bex let Mina decide which table to head to, hand tight in hers. “Ah ah,” she said, sliding into her spot, “no take backs. You already said you trusted me, so now you’re stuck with me. Sorry not sorry.” A cheeky grin flashing from behind her glass as she took another drink, before reaching in to pluck out the cherry. “Besides, it’s not like it’s an obvious smug look,” she went on, looking over at Mina unassumingly as she popped the cherry into her mouth, tugging the stem off. “I just see it in your eyes.”

“Right,” Mina said quietly. She attempted to match Bex’s tone. “You know, I’m just as good at connecting with nature as I am with people. I fell out of a tree once, actually. My dad said I broke my leg in three places. He had to carry me to the end of the hike.” And then to a body of water to heal herself enough so that she could walk on her own, but that wasn’t worth mentioning. Not when it would have made Mina look unnatural. She didn’t even know why she said it in the first place; she was trying not to worry Bex. She shook her head a bit, but she was laughing. “If you keep trying, I’ll get a big head. Isn’t that what most people try to avoid? I don’t think it’d be a good look on me.”

Mina made a face. “Wait, no, fine. I mean, I trust you, but not about this funny face business, especially with the smug comment, and…” she trailed off before she looked away from Bex, back to her own drink, before she took a swallow. The leprechaun slammed the table with their chips, startling Mina a bit. When she looked down the table, the one on top was glaring at her. She stared back. She would not be cowed by a stack of little stone men. That would be ridiculous. She looked at her cards and motioned for the dealer to hit her for another before moving on. Who allowed leprechauns to play blackjack, anyway? Wouldn’t they be better at poker, with their little stone faces and their inability to communicate properly with humans? Then again, blackjack was more about hand gestures than speaking, but still, and it was certainly a good way to make money. Some of the chips had a certain shine to them that she was sure the leprechauns liked.

“Oh, geez,” Bex said, exasperated, “another story about a broken bone, huh? And I thought I was clumsy.” The truth was that she wasn’t really as clumsy as she let people believe-- though she was clumsy, and their hike up the falls had proven that to her-- but bruise after bruise meant story after story, and she’d only tried to tell the truth once before she realized that only made things worse. “I hope you’re more careful about climbing trees now, I don’t think I could carry you to a hospital. I’m not strong, like, at all. And Nell hasn’t taught me any levitation spells yet.” Another tease, even if she didn’t quite know what she was saying. And there it was, the smile she’d been waiting for. It was back. She bit her lip and raised a brow. “You know, I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides,” she answered, leaning into her again, “you might look good with a big head.”

Mina’s words trailed off but Bex wasn’t paying too much attention. She jumped slightly when the small, angry looking man slammed his chips onto the table and glowered at the two of them. God, where were all these grumpy men coming from? Then again, this town had always had them in spades, hadn’t it? Bex had learned that the hard way. Her father’s friends were not fond of her, and while as a child she hadn’t the slightest clue why, she understood now. Her grip tightened on Mina’s arm as she wrapped one hand around it, watching the game play out. She was trying to do what Mina had said, keep track of the cards, the highs and lows, but there was too much information being given too fast. The next thing she knew, the round was over. “Wait, did you win?” she asked, looking at Mina, then to the little man. “I missed it.”

“I’m not clumsy, I was just up too high,” Mina said. “The forces of gravity working against me hardly counts as clumsiness.” She did look at Bex, though, a bit confused. “Why would you have to carry me to the hospital?” It wasn’t like that warranted going to the hospital. Did it? She thought that place was for emergencies. “But of course I’m much more careful. I don’t climb trees anymore. No chance of falling and breaking two different kinds of limbs.” No, these days she just fell off cliffs into churning ocean water. Honestly, that was far more dangerous. She wasn’t bringing that one up again. She snorted. “No, I would not look good with a big head. Absolutely not.”

Mina looked down the table and readjusted in her seat as the chips went to the leprechauns. The top one’s expression didn’t change, but it radiated smugness. She wondered if they were from the little colony that had been on campus. Had being the appropriate word. She’d done a very good job at scaring them off. “No,” she said, scrunching up her nose a bit as she laid down more chips as the dealer started passing out cards again. She muttered, “They did.” Bloody leprechauns. Especially these ones. “It’s fine, really.” She trusted in her next hand, determined to pay more attention. She didn’t really get it. She rarely lost track of things like this.

“You call it gravity,” Bex pointed out, “I call it being clumsy. Don’t worry, there were plenty of times ‘clumsy’ was gravity for me, too. Now we match!” She leaned over, patting Mina’s arm comfortingly, as if she’d just been given a truth that was hard to bear. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Bex let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I’m not a med student, I’m pre-law and I only took one First-Aid class. You do not want me splinting a broken bone. I’d probably do more damage than help. But I do know CPR,” she tacked on with a grin, “you know...just in case.” She nodded, putting her chin back in her palm, watching Mina with amusement. “Mmmhmm, well, you never know until you try, right? Isn’t there a saying about that?”

Bex watched as all the chips were slid over to the frowning man, and she felt a tiny surge of anger as well. Sipped her drink again as she glared at him glaring at Mina. Well, now she really wanted MIna to beat him, if only to wipe that look off his face. She clung to Mina’s arm, watching the cards get doled out again, waiting to see how it would turn out. Her heart was racing again, as she watched Mina’s hand. Was it good? She hoped it was. It looked like it was. She only had a few cards. That was good, right? Mina had said fewer cards meant a better hand. Really, she didn’t even care if Mina won, she just didn’t want the angry man to win. It would be nice, though, if she did win. Bex barely even noticed her grip tightening on Mina’s arm as she waited with anticipation.

Mina narrowed her eyes just a bit before pulling a face, scrunching up her nose as she tried not to smile. “You’re teasing me. Stop it.” Or don’t, I really don’t mind, actually. It’s perfectly okay if you want to just keep teasing me for however long you like. She laughed. “Oh, well, if that’s the problem, then I can splint my own leg perfectly, actually. So, you won’t have to worry about that, Ms. Pre-Law. The CPR might be useful, though.” She leaned back, raising an eyebrow at the younger girl. “I’m quite certain that there are some things that shouldn’t be tried, like poisonous berries or, maybe, inflated egos. Maybe I’m wrong, though.”

Tapping her fingers against the table, Mina allowed a small smile to work its way onto her face as she won the hand, the chips being slid towards her. She heard the disgruntled clicks coming from the torso area of the stacked leprechauns, and, okay, maybe she was feeling just a bit smug. If she was, there was really only one person to blame. She smiled, first at Bex and then at the dealer, and then she raised her bet. One a hand. Raised it again. Wash, rinse, and repeat. The leprechauns weren’t the only people at the table getting frustrated. The dealer raised an eyebrow at her, but Mina simply asked, “Do you believe in luck.” He motioned toward where a pit boss was headed towards them, a frown on his face. “No, apparently not, right?” She looked between Bex, the chips, and the pit boss. “We, ah, we might have to leave.” Then moving closer, she quietly added, “Quickly, or do you remember what I told you happened the first time I played? There, ah, might be a repeat of that here.”

Bex put a hand to her chest, feigning offense. Fingers grazing wounds she’d nearly forgotten about in her delight from the evening. “I would never,” she scoffed, doing her best impression of a British accent. “Okay, show off. But how would you get back to town or to a doctor’s so you could heal properly, hmm? Would hate for you to regrow another bone wrong,” she said, raising a brow inquisitively. “You know someone had to try them first to find out they were bad ideas, though. Would it help if I told you I’d probably still like you, even if you had a big head? You’re like, pretty much the only one that tolerates my history gibberish.”

Bex quieted as she watched, with increasing fascination, as Mina won. Hand, after hand, after hand. Their chips were piling up! It wasn’t even about the money, Bex didn’t need money, but it was might satisfying watching everyone else-- especially that stone-faced man-- lose theirs. Steal from the rich, give to the-- well, okay, that metaphor didn’t apply, but Bex did like proving people wrong. She hadn’t even noticed the angry look on the dealer’s face, or the rather scary looking man ina suit heading towards them until Mina pointed it out. “What?” Bex asked, looking up. Her gaze followed Mina’s over and she inhaled sharply. “Hmm, you know what? I, uh-- I think I’ve had enough cards for one night, yep! We should, ah-- we’re just gonna--” Sliding out of her seat, keeping a tight hold on Mina’s hand. She stopped for just a brief moment to finish off her drink, before turning and tugging MIna after her. They definitely could not get caught, and not just because Mina was card counting. There were at least two other illegal things they’d done here, and both of them were about Bex. “C’mon, c’mon,” she urged, looking behind her to see the very disgruntled security man trailing after them. She weaved her way through the tables with ease, despite the increasing pain in her chest that seemed to be smothered by the adrenaline of the situation. Pushed out the same door they’d come in, laughing as they ducked past the bouncer outside and into the cool night air.

Once they were far enough away Bex was sure they wouldn’t be followed, she finally stopped, still beaming. “You know,” she panted, a little winded, “I don’t think I’ve ever been thrown out of somewhere before!”

Mina opened her mouth slightly in shock before she snapped it shut and then gave a small laugh. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t need to find a doctor, you know I wouldn’t need a doctor, I’d just need to find something to support me while looking for shelter.” Specifically, a body of water. Then she could heal over the course of a few days enough to eventually make it back to wherever she was supposed to be headed. She hummed. “Alright, let’s get this clear, shall we? I don’t think your history talk is gibberish. It’s fascinating, especially to someone who has no real prior knowledge about any of what you’re talking on. I like it. I like hearing you talk.”

There wasn’t really much time for conversation as they made their escape, the chips left deserted on the table and the top leprechaun’s stone stare following them through the crowd whenever Mina had the chance to look back. But she let Bex lead her, directing them passed the tables, passed the security guards. Mina gave one of them an apologetic wave and resigned herself to being on her best behavior the next time that she came to the Stacked Deck unless she had another reason not to be. Another reason like the sound of Bex’s laugh as they made it out into open air, happy and breathless, and, wow, Mina could only compare this to an adrenaline rush during a fight, except it wasn’t quite like that, not really, and she didn’t really know what to do with it. She looked at Bex, laughing. “Yes, well, usually, when I get thrown out of places, it’s a bit more dramatic than this. I think they stopped caring here when they realized I’d left the money.”

All Bex could see in this moment was Mina’s smile. Her face, framed perfectly by her hair, that chocolate-y shade of brown that reflected the moonlight just right. Bex’s breath was coming out in front of her in little puffs of air as she huffed to catch her breath-- she knew most of it was because her body was still trying to catch up to itself while it healed, but there was something else there, and she knew it. Her entire body even felt like it was vibrating, she barely heard what Mina was saying. She was just stuck, staring at her, feeling something building in her chest. Something so odd and yet distantly familiar she couldn’t help but want to feel it more. To understand what it was. And maybe she did understand, but right now all that mattered was this moment, her body flushed with excitement and a happiness she’d rarely felt. And she grabbed onto those feelings and she just...acted. Something Bex rarely, if ever, did. And the impulse came as her stepping forward to close the distance between her and Mina and cupping Mina’s face with her hands and pressing her lips to Mina’s in a flurry of emotions. And, oh, wow, did it feel nice, so nice. It just made her heart pound harder and faster and all the air in her lungs left, and after only a short moment she had to pull away to gasp for breath, still holding onto Mina.

And then the reality of what she’d done slammed her into the cement and Bex felt her entire body go cold, save for the burning in her chest. She let go of Mina and stepped back. “I--” she didn’t know what to say, she had no words, cold and frozen on her tongue. “I’m so sorry,” she managed to say, “I’m so-- I didn’t mean to-- I should’ve asked, I’m sorry.” Because what else was she supposed to say?

Fight. Flight. Freeze. Mina was very good at freezing, at going still in the face of something coming at her. Sometimes, she believed if she stood strong enough, she could be prepared for whatever was coming at her. Nothing could have prepared Mina for getting kissed. Really, she hadn’t expected it. Not that she’d never been kissed before! She had! But those times it had been expected, and it just… it never ended well. It was hard for things to end well when the ways that she saw herself and the ways that other people saw her were so… not well. But this was unexpected, and it was nice, and Mina didn’t think that Bex saw the way hunters and slayers and wardens-- and Mina herself-- saw her. She couldn’t breathe, for just a moment, couldn’t think, couldn’t really do anything, and just when her brain started to feel less like a jumble of ones and zeros in an order that didn’t make sense, Bex was pulling away, and Mina was left standing there blinking with her mouth half open trying to figure out what was going on.

“Wait,” Mina said. “Wait, wait, wait.” She reached out for Bex’s hand before pulling back, reaching out again, opening her mouth, closing it, trying to figure out what to do. “Wait,” she said again because apparently that was the only thing she could actually figure out how to coherently say. Words, she needed to say words, more than just one. “You-- I--” Good, yes, incredible. She’d kick herself if she was able to. “You’re sorry?” she finally managed to ask. She swallowed tightly, before looking into Bex’s eyes, at her lips. Mina licked her own. “I mean, if-- if you’d asked, the, ah, the outcome. It would have, well, I mean, it would have been the same, really, so you just sort of skipped a step or two.”

Wait. The word made Bex pause. Mina said it four more times and still Bex didn’t move. She watched her with her own wide-eyed stare, hands shaking, as Mina’s mind seemed to crank back to life. Was she mad? Was she upset? Was she going to leave? Bex wouldn’t blame her. She hadn’t meant to. The feeling of the moment had just grabbed her and whisked her away and maybe, at heart, she’d always been this oddly impulsive. But her heart was still pounding, and her mouth felt dry and she watched Mina looking at her, and watched her lick her own lips and felt her heart squeeze and-- Mina said she didn’t mind. Perhaps had even liked it, from what Bex could parse out of her jumbled sentence. It was Bex’s turn to stutter. “You-- if I--” swallowed the lump in her throat, vibrating. She reflexively reached out and met Mina’s hand between them, “it was okay?” Was that really the problem here? Making sure it was okay? Even to Bex, it was clear it was, now. “I can--” she started again, moving a little bit closer, “--do you want me to...do it again?” Her voice was shaky and her breath was hot, but she moved in closer again, feeling the pull inside of her own chest telling her to do it. Do it again because it was the best she’d felt in literal years. And she wanted to, fuck did she want to. “Cause I can do that. I can definitely do that, i-if you want.”

“Bex,” Mina said, and she laughed a little bit, unable to truly catch her breath. “It was okay. It was more than okay, actually, really much more than okay.” So much more than okay. Stupidly more than okay. Mina wasn’t breathing properly. That was the only logical explanation to this lightheadedness, this tightness in her chest. But it was altogether quite illogical, really. She looked at their hands, laced their fingers together. “Please,” she said. She brought her free hand to Bex’s face, lightly stroking the younger girl’s cheek. “I want that.” She wanted it a lot, more than she could say, in any language, and Mina was practically fluent in three. She wanted it like she’d wanted so few things in her life because she’d never been given the opportunity to properly want things, hadn’t really understood that wanting was something she could do, and now that she’s started really, actually wanting something, something like this, well. She couldn’t just stop now, could she? They were close. They were so close, and all that Mina could do was nod her head and close her eyes and say again, “Yes, I want that a lot.” And, honestly, Mina would have kissed Bex herself if she wasn’t a coward, but even when she knew what she wanted, she was so, so scared that it’d be taken away, even if the probability of that was low. Bex had kissed her first! But it could be a joke. But it probably wasn’t. But it could be. So Mina just had to say what she wanted and hope, hope, hope for the best. Blackjack wasn’t real gambling. This was.

This wasn’t what Bex was supposed to want, but there was that saying, right? The heart wants what it wants? And, really, how often had Bex gotten what she wanted? Probably never. Maybe never. Her mind tried to find something to prove herself wrong, to prove that she didn’t have to give in to this strange, yet wonderful feeling inside of her, because her life was fine. Just fine. And she didn’t need this to make her happy, she could be happy in other ways, right? But it found nothing, and maybe she hadn’t wanted it to. Definitely hadn’t wanted it to. “Okay,” was all she said, barely nodding, because she was afraid if she started talking again she wouldn’t stop. And right now she didn’t want to talk, she wanted to kiss Mina. So she did, leaning into her this time, pressing their lips together gently. Fingers intertwined, Mina’s hand on her cheek, there wasn’t possibly anything else Bex could have wanted in that moment. She even let her free hand grab onto the fabric of Mina’s shirt and bunch it up and kiss her just a little more desperately, because who knew when she’d get something like this again. Who knew when this was going to simply slip through her fingers, like all good things did. And this time, when she had to pull away to breath, she didn’t say anything-- just looked at Mina and hoped she wasn’t dreaming.

The second kiss was better than the first, and, really, Mina could have asked for a third, possibly even a fourth, but they were just standing there, out in the open, and, wow, Mina really wanted this. She could stay in this moment and just enjoy it if she was allowed to, for as long as she was allowed to. But she and Bex both needed to breathe. She kept her eyes closed for just a moment longer, trying to slow down her rapidly beating heart with a few deep, even breaths. When she opened her eyes, Bex was staring at her. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard. Impulsively, she rushed forward and gave Bex a soft peck before pulling away just as quickly, smiling contentedly. She hoped she didn’t look like a fool. She probably looked like a fool. Did she even care that much, though, really? “Yeah.” Mina cleared her throat. “Yeah, that was-- That was absolutely more than okay. Just, I mean, just so you know.” She paused, eyes widening a bit. “I mean, actually, unless it wasn’t okay for you, in which case, and are you alright? You seem alright, but--” she laughed nervously. “Um, yeah. Yeah.”

It was Bex’s turn to just smile, the grin spreading across her lips as she watched Mina and listened to her fumble over her words. They really were quite similar, weren't they? Bex waited patiently for Mina to finish before she reached out to brush Mina’s hair behind her ear again. “Like you said, it was more than okay. And I’m okay.” She gave a short nod-- it wasn’t a lie. “I’m really okay.” Squeezed her hand tighter, rolling her lip between her teeth before she glanced around them. Her gaze landed back on Mina. “I really like your smile,” she said quietly, wondering if she could get Mina to blush anymore than she already was. She didn’t want to leave this spot, but it was getting colder outside and they were sort of in the middle of a public parking lot, and if someone hadn’t already seen them, they surely would soon. She tugged on Mina’s hand gently as she motioned towards the parking lot, walking backwards so she wouldn’t have to look away from her for too long. And if she fell, she knew Mina would catch her. “We should probably get back,” she commented, still hoping this moment wasn’t just a dream, or that she wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and immediately regret everything. Or even that this would make things weird between them. She wasn’t even sure what this meant, but those were all things for her to worry about tomorrow. For tonight, she would just give herself this. This one small thing that made her happy. “If you’re not too tired, we could watch another movie. You know, there’s still three Jurassic Parks left to watch.”

Mina managed to laugh. Relief, overwhelmingly so. “Good, good. That’s good.” She could be okay with this. Was this that whole ‘going after what you want’ thing that she’d been told about so much? Because, if it was, and the results were this positive? She could stand to do it a bit more often. Really, she could. Her smile managed to brighten as she said, “I like yours, too, you know. It’s cute.” It was cute and sweet and kind of wonderful when it reached Bex’s eyes, and every time Mina saw it, she couldn’t get enough. She let Bex lead the way back to the car before she unlocked and opened the passenger side door for her. “You’re right, absolutely. It’s late.” She’d really like it if this didn’t end, if she could just hold on to this moment and the lightness and heaviness and overwhelmingness of it all. How often does someone like Mina get things that she would like to hold onto? Not particularly often, actually. Maybe more than usual in the last year, but she could probably count the occasions out on both hands. She walked around to the driver’s side and got in, looking at Bex seriously. “Three more movies? Well, actually, I don’t think I know nearly enough about dinosaurs, so I guess we’ll have to watch at least one to fix that.”

Well that backfired. Now Bex was blushing, hiding her face against her shoulder as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks, a smile permanently on her lips. “That’s objective,” she said, “and I think you’re a little biased at this point.” She climbed into the car when Mina opened the door for her and folded her hands into her lap as she waited, turning to look at the other girl as she hopped in the driver’s side. “Yep,” she answered simply, giving a toothy grin, “and they’re working on one more right now. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of dino content to help catch you up.” She really wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss Mina again-- she’d never kissed anyone in a car-- but opted for just placing a hand on her knee. Leaning over to kiss someone seemed as if it might strain her injury and then Mina would probably get worried and the whole night might be ruined. Bex didn’t want that at all. The drive home somehow seemed longer, but maybe it was because Bex was desperate to be out of the car and close to Mina again. She’d never felt like this before, never ached to be near someone. It went against everything she told herself she was, and everything her parents told her not to be. She didn’t want that to matter right now, though. She could figure out the complicated stuff tomorrow, when her head was on right.

Bex opened the front door to Morgan’s as quietly as possible as she held on to Mina’s hand, slipping inside with her. It was quiet, but she knew Morgan and Deirdre rarely slept. Bex felt as if she’d slept too much these past few days, but it was getting better. And she somehow figured she’d sleep really well tonight. “C’mon,” she murmured, “we can watch in my room. There’s a TV in there.”

It was nice, Mina thought, to be the one teasing instead of getting teased. “Yes, well, I don’t think I’m the only biased one here, so.” She was beginning to recognize the feeling she felt as something akin to being mildly intoxicated, which was actually quite impossible, since she’d barely had one drink, and she didn’t start feeling anything for a bit. But that was the only comparison that she had to draw from that wasn’t violent, and so maybe she needed to worry about that. If she was feeling buzzed off of one drink, something might possibly be wrong. Unless this wasn’t that at all. In which case, she was confused. Bex’s hand was warm on Mina’s knee. She kind of wanted to kiss Bex again. “See? I was worried. Three more movies is not nearly enough dino content.” She could barely remember what happened through the first movie because she and Bex definitely ended up falling asleep.

Mina let Bex lead her inside, trying to be quiet. Really, what she should do is excuse herself for a bit and go to the pool; since Bex had woken up, Mina hadn’t been able to go in the water and just stay there for extended periods of time like she used to. It was hard to do such things with a human in the house who would definitely notice a water nymph hanging around the pool, especially if that water nymph was actually someone that she spent time with. Instead, she followed after Bex, saying, “I’m right behind you.” It was fine. She could always just soak in the tub later.

Bex could list all the reason this was a bad idea off the top of her head, if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t. Maybe it was time for her to just make all those bad decisions that had been hiding themselves inside of her. It wasn’t like there was anyone to tell her not to. There was no one around that would stop her, or tell her she shouldn’t, or tell her this wasn’t the way she should be acting. There was only her wants and her needs and everything else be damned, she wanted to feel good for once. Even if none of it stuck tomorrow, she wanted tonight to stay. She didn’t want these feelings to end, this emotional high she was riding. She led Mina up to her room and closed the door, turning around to face her. She didn’t move to turn on the TV, but instead reached up to smooth down the collar of Mina’s shirt. “I’ll um,” she started, but her heart was hammering in her chest again and she was sure Mina could hear it, “I’ll put on the movie, if you want to just--” she paused, looking into her eyes-- “sit on the bed.” On her bed. In her room. The one and only other time she’d ever had someone alone in her room like this it had turned out catastrophic. Turned her entire life upside down and dumped her here, stuck under the scrutiny of her parents’ thumb. Would this turn out like that? She really hoped not. She still hadn’t moved, she needed to move. She didn’t want to move.

One of Bex’s hands was on the collar of Mina’s shirt. It was a bit distracting, not unlike the hand on her knee or literally any time Bex had touched her at all over the period of the entire night. It was always a shock, whenever people touched her so carefree, something she’d only started getting somewhat used to since coming to White Crest, and Bex did it a lot, and it was lovely, really, it was, but it was also so distracting, and how did people think like this, anyway? She managed a teasing smile, very little thought required. “Right, of course, I can go sit on the bed.” One of Bex’s hands was on the collar of Mina’s shirt. Mina squeezed the other one from where it was still firmly laced with hers. “As soon as you let go?” Just like earlier, it felt good to tease, to have fun, to not have to be so serious or nervously, anxiously energetic. Mina had a lot of energy, all the time, far too much of it, really. She’s always wondered if that was a Fae thing, a desire to always be getting into something, causing mischief, running away. She’d assumed that any sort of mischief had been carefully and methodically worked out of her system years ago. It was nice to know that it wasn’t. She moved closer to Bex. “Or we could just stand here?”

Bex could feel her entire body warming up. The blush from cheeks was spreading to her entire face, perhaps even down her neck and to her chest where her heart pounded against her ribs. Mina was closer now and Bex heard blood rushing through her ears. “Right,” she agreed, not looking down at their intertwined hands at all, “I just have to...let go.” It felt as if the words were meant for more than just referring to their hands. Just let go. Of everything that had been holding her back up until this moment. Just let go, of all the pain and hiding and denial. Just let go, of pleasing everyone else before herself. Just let go. But she didn’t let go of Mina. Instead she dug her hand into Mina’s shirt again, fingers bunching up cloth, and tugged her closer. If this was the only night she got to feel this way, to be this way, then she wanted to make sure she used every opportunity to have it. “Or you could kiss me again,” she suggested quietly, “while we stand here.” Her voice was wavering, but she’d never felt more sure about anything, about what she wanted. “Because I kinda don’t want to let go.”

They were just standing there in front of the door, facing each other, and all Mina could think was, Oh. There wasn’t much else going on in her head except for that and the fact that, why, yes, she could kiss Bex. She could just lean in-- not far, they were already so close-- and kiss her, and, wow, okay, yeah. She could do that. So she did that, leaning in slowly but surely, one hand tightening a bit on Bex’s while the other moved to Bex’s hair. Kissing Bex made Mina feel warm and light and fuzzy, all kinds of soft feelings that she felt would turn her into a puddle if she lingered too long. Maybe this was what happened to nixies when they got so happy they just died from it; they turned into a puddle of water and soaked back into the earth. But she didn’t particularly want to stop, not yet, not when she didn’t really know if she was going to be able to keep doing this. Nice things didn’t stay. Bex could wake up the next day and laugh in Mina’s face, but, really, if she could just enjoy this moment, for a moment, maybe that could be enough. It’d make this whole wanting thing worth it. When they both seemed to need to breathe she pulled away, her hand still in Bex’s hair. She had such soft hair. She ran her hand through it, unable to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “Ah, good?”

Was it supposed to feel this good? It wasn’t supposed to feel this good. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. But, god, did it ever. It felt so good. Bex didn’t want to stop, even to breath. She wanted to keep kissing Mina, with their hands intertwined and Mina’s hand in her hair and Bex’s hand bunching up her shirt. Or maybe she’d be okay with moving somewhere else, as long as they kept kissing. She didn’t care about watching a movie anymore, or pretending like she wanted to watch a movie. When Mina pulled away, Bex stayed close, leaning into her. “Good,” she exhaled breathlessly, hoping to quell the uncertainty in MIna’s voice, “really good.” So good, in fact, she didn’t really want to keep talking about it. So she just leaned in again and pretended like they’d never stopped in the first place, gently prodding Mina to walk back towards the bed. She unfurled their hands in order to get a better grip on Mina as she kissed her and she pretended like nothing else in the world mattered. Because, really, it didn’t. It simply didn’t. Not right now. There wasn’t even that strange, growing dread in her stomach like last time she’d kissed a girl this much. There wasn’t even that little voice in the back of her head telling her this was wrong. This was just...all that mattered. All that she cared about. All that she wanted. And god damnit, she was going to take it.

Mina allowed Bex to back her up towards the bed, using her recently freed hand to feel around behind her to make sure that she didn’t just hit it and fall over. Nothing about kissing should be this interesting and overencompasing and so much, but Mina felt stupid with it, giddy with it. Her hand hit the bed, followed by her knees, and she rocked forward, winding both hands into Bex’s hair, unable and unwilling to break away. Could she keep this, please? Just for a bit? She’d like this for a moment, maybe longer, maybe two moments, something that could last long enough for her to know that it was real. Because things like this were usually fake, and that was fine, really! She was used to it. Mina just didn’t think she deserved nice things. This was kind of a given, but she wanted them, and she wanted this, her fingers in Bex’s hair. And it seemed so real, and it just kept going on. She brushed the side of Bex’s face with her thumb. Eventually, she broke away briefly, momentarily, because she needed to breathe, before kissing Bex again. And again. And again.

Bex would have believed this was a dream, had she not been able to feel Mina’s hands in her hair. Her lips against her own. This had to be a dream, though, right? For so long, Bex had been so afraid of dreaming again. Of being in that place again. But if this was what was there this time, then maybe she didn’t mind so much. No, she definitely didn’t mind at all. Mina’s knees hit the bed and their progress stopped and in the back of Bex’s head she knew they should stop for a moment to adjust, the tinge of pain in her chest reminding her why, but she didn’t want to. Not yet. Just a second longer. Just a little more. Her chest heaved after a moment and she had to pull back to breath. Her face was on fire and, actually, her entire body felt like it was on fire. She prodded Mina to sit back on the bed and climbed up next to her, breathing heavily. She leaned back in, brushing her lips against Mina’s gently while she still struggled to breath through the pounding in her chest. She didn’t want this to end, and more than that, she didn’t want Mina to leave. Sleep didn’t seem so hard with Mina around. And maybe if she never left, it would mean that this wouldn’t have to end. “Will you stay with me?” she asked under her breath, forehead pressed to Mina’s. “Just...for the night?”

There was a distinct lack of a lot going on in Mina’s head. She almost always had something going on, too much, really. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t let anyone see what you are. Be on guard. Remember what you’re doing in class tomorrow. A thousand numbers and phrases and reminders going off all the time, like the reminder that she really shouldn’t stay the night, that she should go relax for a bit, that she should go and sit on the bottom of the floor and think very intensely about what was happening. But Mina didn’t get that reminder. Instead, there was just Bex, and the feeling of Bex’s lips on hers, and the way their foreheads were pressed together. “Yeah, yes, I can stay tonight.” She could absolutely stay the night. Now that the option was there, she clearly, very much wanted to stay the night. Even if she was mildly uncomfortable and had to make up for it later, she wanted this. So much. She didn’t even really know how to comprehend how much she wanted it. Her brain still wasn’t working as well as it should be. Still, she knew enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

Whatever signals Bex’s brain usually gave her that something was probably a bad idea, or that she wasn’t supposed to do something, were completely shut off right now. In fact, her mind was barely functioning, because all of her concentration was on Mina’s eyes and her lips and trying to calm down her own, rapid heartbeat. Her cheeks were warm, so warm, and Mina’s hands were still holding her face and she pressed into Mina’s palm, because what else was she supposed to do? They were so soft and comforting. She drew in a breath, held it for a moment. She needed to calm down, but how was she supposed to do that, when they were still so close and Mina had said she’d stay. She nodded, perhaps a bit more hastily than she should have. “I’m okay,” she insisted, and she was. Really, she was. She looked up into Mina’s eyes, then. “But you-- you’re sure?” she managed to stutter, hands still buried in the cloth of her shirt. She knew the answer, she did, but she had to make sure. Had to make sure this was real and her mind wasn’t tricking her, and then once she was sure, maybe her heart would stop pounding out of her chest and she could kiss Mina again. She clung to her as if she was the only thing keeping her grounded right now, and if she let go, she would simply fall through the Earth and cease to exist. “You’ll stay?” And maybe she was asking too much, but hadn’t she suffered enough? Didn’t she, too, deserve something nice?

“Yes, absolutely sure. Really, really sure, actually,” Mina said. Bex’s hand was still clutching her shirt, and she was so close, and, really, what else could she possibly say? The thought of leaving and going back to her room or the pool or just being anywhere that wasn’t in that room, in that moment, seemed impossible. If Mina wasn’t Fae and didn’t know any better, she would think that Bex was a leanan-sidhe with poisonous, perfect kisses, stripping Mina of any ability to want to do anything else. She should have known, probably, what this feeling was, that tightness that had been growing in her chest, warm and painful and happy, since she’d first started really talking to Bex. And she had, but it hadn’t solidified until she felt Bex’s lips on hers? She didn’t think so. She’d never been taught what to do with this. She’d never been taught how to handle this kind of good hurt. She leaned forward again, and gave Bex a soft kiss, gentle and lingering for only a moment before pulling away again. “I want to stay tonight, as long as you want me to.” She moved one of her hands from Bex’s face and held out her pinky. I am not saying the words, but this is proof that I mean this. I mean this. I mean this.

“Of course I want you to stay,” Bex exhaled, nuzzling into Mina’s hand still on her face. “I want you to stay.” She felt more words bubbling up in her throat, begging to be let out. I want you, I want you, I want you. Words she’d thought a million times over, words that someone else had heard her think. But she swallowed them down, because they scared her. It absolutely frightened her, the prospect of happiness. Instead, she held up her own hand and locked pinkies with Mina and she meant it. She meant it. She wanted nothing more than to make sure this lasted as long as possible. So with their pinkies hooked, she leaned forward again and kissed her and poured all of her thoughts into the action. Whatever the world held for them tomorrow, they could figure it out, then. This was all that mattered. This, just this. This and only this. She pulled Mina with her as she laid back on the bed and finally moved her hands from Mina’s shirt, circling them around Mina’s shoulders and pulling her closer. If that was possible. She was staying, she was staying, she was staying. It was hard to believe. People didn’t stay. But Mina was staying. And Bex wanted her to stay. And her stomach felt tight, and warm, and floaty all at the same time. It was nothing like the last time she’d kissed a girl. Mina was nothing like her. She could trust Mina. She could want Mina. She pulled away after a moment and looked up into Mina’s eyes. “I--” she started, but stopped, words bubbling in her throat, “tonight was-- I just want to tell you…” took a breath, “T-word. For tonight. I-- I really liked it. Being with you. Out. Being out with you.” She was beginning to feel her nerves build up again. She needed to shut up. Her hands shook again and she shut herself up by pulling Mina back down to her and smothering her own lips. She should’ve done this sooner, she realized. Why hadn’t she done this sooner?

Then it was simple. Mina would stay. She’d do anything to hold onto this moment for as long as she possibly could. She squeezed Bex’s pinky with hers while they kissed, the promise of it lacing in her stomach. She could feel it in the way that Bex kissed her, in the way that she kissed back, and it was comforting in a way that promises rarely were. She could enjoy this. This wasn’t something to fear. It wasn’t a weight bearing down on her chest, something cold and metallic in the back of her throat like a reminder. It was solid, and real, and okay. Smiling against Bex’s lips, Mina wrapped one arm around Bex and got close, using the other to prop herself up. She pulled away, breathing heavy. “You really don’t have to thank me, you know. Or, even, not thank me, in this case. I really liked it, too.” She had to get it all out quickly, as quickly as possible. “I always like hanging out with you, whether we’re doing something like tonight at the falls or just drinking tea and watching movies. I’m not very good with saying these things, but-- but--” But she kissed Bex again, and, really, that was just as good as words, right? It seemed to be working pretty effectively for both of them, so far. And, sure, she knew that eventually they would get tired and need to breathe, but that was later. This was now.

But what, Bex wanted to ask, but what? But, well, that would require breaking the kiss, and why would she do that? She could ask later, when she had to breathe. Or maybe she just wouldn’t ask at all. Maybe they didn’t need to talk anymore. Hadn’t they spent all night talking? Maybe they could do with talking less, even if words tried to fight their way onto Bex’s tongue. It was just nerves, when she got nervous, she just started talking. She didn’t want to do that here. She wanted to just do this. But when they broke to breathe once more, she couldn’t help it. Her hands went up to Mina’s face, cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing her now rosy cheeks. “But I wanted to,” she huffed, her breaths coming up heavy, “I want to. You won’t let me say it, anyway.” She smiled, she couldn’t help it. She always smiled around Mina. “I like spending time with you, too. Doing anything,” her words got quieter, “but I think...I really like doing this.” But what? She still wanted to ask. She strained a bit to move herself up to press a soft kiss to Mina’s lips, lingering, before she laid back down. “But what?”

“‘Course I won’t let you say it,” Mina said, her eyes closing without her really wanting them to as she leaned in to Bex’s touch. “Saying thank you is like,” she paused, thinking it over, “it’s like owing something. Some even find it offensive, but it’s more about the owing of something. It’s saying ‘I thank you for this thing and owe you a favor’ for it, which can be something you don’t want, right? And you don’t owe me anything, ever.” She looked up briefly and smiled, and, when Bex kissed her again, she hummed in the back of her throat, not really realizing that Bex said something when she pulled away and Mina realized she needed to say something. Her eyebrows furrowed. “But what?” What ‘but what?’ What did ‘but what’ have to do with anything? Oh. Wait. “I’m not very good at saying these things, or any things, really without getting it all mixed up, sometimes, but I mean this. I like doing this. I really-- fuck.” She didn’t say that often, old habits of always being so careful of what she said hard to shake off. “I really like this, being with you, spending time with you.” She leaned over and kissed Bex because she couldn’t not, propping herself on her arms. She pulled away just a bit, her eyes tightly closed. Her voice felt rough as she said, “I’m so happy around you, and I don’t know what to do about that. I’ve never been like this before.” It was concerning. It was terrifying. It was really, really nice.

The words were strange. Bex had spent her entire life owing people things. She’d never realized the innocuousness of the words, either. How they could be said in kindness and taken in maliciousness. “Okay,” she answered quietly, “I won’t say it.” Even if she knew she wouldn’t mind owing Mina. Even if she knew she’d do anything for Mina. Bex did her best to look up into Mina’s eyes as she spoke, feeling her heartbeat increasing with each word Mina said. Even let out a small giggle when Mina cursed, biting her lip. She let her hands brush into Mina’s hair gently before coming back around to smooth down the front of her shirt again, palms flat. Bex licked her lips, felt her heart beating in her throat. “You could just...keep doing this? Because...I like being around you, too. You make me happy, or make me feel like everything’s going to be okay. That one day...I’ll be okay.” It was terribly, horribly frightening, that prospect. That one day Bex could be truly happy. That one day, maybe, she didn’t have to live her life in debt to someone else. That one day, maybe her life would be her own. That maybe Morgan was right, she did deserve to be happy. Gently, she prodded Mina to sit up again, still staying close to her. She moved them so that they were laying properly in the bed now, and curled up beside her, moving the hair from her face. “We can just...have this. Can’t we?”

“If you want to say it, you can, but I won’t accept,” Mina said quietly. “As I’ve said, it’s better to appreciate things, or to be grateful, or to simply do something in return. An equivalent exchange, right? That’s always better. It’s harder to twist those things, make them ugly. I’d never do that, though, even if you said ‘thank you.’ I’d never, I p-- you know.” She was having trouble focusing again, but she did her best to remain in the moment, to keep listening, to not get lost inside her head or heart over what she wanted versus what she feared could possibly happen. Honestly, if she woke up from this at the bottom of the pool, she was going to scream. “I could, quite honestly, keep doing this, yes. Easily. I’d really like it.” Is she allowed this? Can she please keep this? Mina felt a bit like she was going to shatter at the thought that Bex wanted this just as much as she did. It hurt, but in a good way, like when something was healing, and it was settling back into the right position, and that made it hurt, but it’d all be better as long as it got the chance to heal. “We can have this,” she said, laying down but never looking away from Bex. You deserve such good things, and I would like to give them to you if I can. She pulled Bex’s hands to her lips as she nodded. “We can have this.”

“I never really...thought about it that way,” Bex said quietly, “and, well, I appreciate you. But you already know that. Right?” she looked up into her eyes, pleading with her quietly, to say that yes, she did, she knew that. “I know you wouldn’t. Do that to me. I know.” She leaned in closer, kissing her softly, as if punctuating her statement that she knew. She knew Mina would never hurt her like that. She knew. And maybe that, even if she did, she would forgive her. When she pulled away again, she stayed close by, close enough to feel the warmth of Mina’s breath. She let her pull her hand up to her lips and felt something flood through her entire body. It was a strange sense of peace. It made her entire body relax as she realized that, in this moment, there wasn’t a single thing in the world that could hurt her. Not her magic, not her parents, not the world in her sleep that kept threatening to take her back-- not even the thing that caused the scabs on her chest. Mina was safe. She let out a long breath, then, and decided everything was okay. She moved her hand to intertwine her fingers with Mina’s again, before she moved herself forward, and nestled against Mina’s chest, sighing. “I’m so grateful for you, Mina,” she whispered against her chest, eyes already growing tired.

You say that now, but you could change your mind, and I absolutely wouldn’t even blame you, not with everything that I keep from you, Mina thought, but she just smiled. “I appreciate you, too. That feels like a given, at this point.” The world was round, the ocean was dangerous, and Mina appreciated Bex Ochsenstein. These were some of the well-known facts of the universe. She couldn’t imagine her life anymore without Bex in it. It wasn’t that she didn’t remember life outside of the other girl; she did. Every scar was a lesson, every lesson refused to properly fade from her brain, even though she was trying to change and be better. She still had that training, and she still had school, and she still had the whole getting better at ‘being a person’ thing that she tried to work on with varying degrees of success. But being with Bex kind of… made all of that sort of fade into the background sometimes. It was still there, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Being in this moment with Bex was the most important thing, and that was so utterly scary as much as it was comforting. Mina wrapped her arms around Bex and moved up to rest her chin on top of Bex’s head. Quietly, she said, “Ich genieße jede sekunde mit dir.” Sometimes, things were easier when they were harder for other people to understand.

As her eyes drifted closed, Bex realized that this feeling in her chest was a brand new one. Mina’s arms were wrapped around her, and it was with a startle that she realized she’d never had this before. She’d never felt safe in someone’s arms before. Safe and warm and comforting. She supposed that was partially her own fault-- she didn’t usually get this close to people, and even then, she rarely let them hug her or hold her. And she understood, ultimately, that Morgan’s arms would never hurt her. And though they brought her comfort, she was too used to arms and hands meaning pain, false comfort, punishment. But no, not here, not now. Not in Mina’s arms. Her heart had finally settled, even if Bex still felt as if she were floating. Both floating and grounded all at once. She pressed in closer to Mina and let out a sigh, moving to rest one of her hands on Mina’s side. She heard the words but they were foreign to her ears. Still, somehow, she understood enough of their meaning. Their intent. “I know,” was the last thing she murmured before she fell asleep, softly and soundly and knowing, for once, that she would wake up alright.

#chatzy #chatzy: mina #wickedswriting #the real gamble #mina #domestic abuse mention tw #//this one's longer and i'm so sorry #alksdjf #i'm not tho

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allthatremainsislnl · 3 years ago

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Forgetting My First Language | The New Yorker

Forgetting My First Language

When I speak Cantonese with my parents now, I rely on translation apps.

Jenny Liao

September 03, 2021

Illustration by Jo Zixuan Zhou

For many children of immigrants, to “succeed” in America, we must adopt a new language in place of our first—the one our parents speak best—without fully considering the strain it places on our relationships for the rest of our lives.

No one prepared me for the heartbreak of losing my first language. It doesn’t feel like the sudden, sharp pain of losing someone you love, but rather a dull ache that builds slowly until it becomes a part of you. My first language, Cantonese, is the only one I share with my parents, and, as it slips from my memory, I also lose my ability to communicate with them. When I tell people this, their eyes tend to grow wide with disbelief, as if it’s so absurd that I must be joking. “They can’t speak English?” they ask. “So how do you talk to your parents?” I never have a good answer. The truth is, I rely on translation apps and online dictionaries for most of our conversations.

It’s strange when I hear myself say that I have trouble talking to my parents, because I still don’t quite believe it myself. We speak on the phone once a week and the script is the same: “Have you eaten yet?” my father asks in Cantonese. Long pause. “No, not yet. You?” I reply. “Why not? It’s so late,” my mother cuts in. Long pause. “Remember to drink more water and wear a mask outside,” she continues. “O.K. You too.” Longest pause. “We’ll stop bothering you, then.” The conversation is shallow but familiar. Deviating from it puts us (or, if I’m being honest, just me) at risk of discomfort, which I try to avoid at all costs.

I grew up during the nineties in Sheepshead Bay, a quiet neighborhood located in the southern tip of Brooklyn, where the residents were mostly Russian-Jewish immigrants. Unable to communicate with neighbors, my parents kept to themselves and found other ways to participate in American culture. Once a month, my dad attempted to re-create McDonald’s chicken nuggets at home for my two brothers and me before taking us to the Coney Island boardwalk to watch the Cyclone roller coaster rumble by. On Sundays, my mom brought me to violin lessons, and afterward I accompanied her to a factory in Chinatown where she sacrificed her day off to sew blouses to pay for my next lesson while I did homework. These constant acts of love—my parents’ ideas of Americana—shaped who I am today. Why is it so difficult for me, at age thirty-two, to have a meaningful discussion with them? As an adult, I feel like their acquaintance instead of their daughter.

During my visits back home from California, our time together is quiet, our conversations brief. My parents ask about my life in Cantonese over plates of siu yuk and choy sum while I clumsily piece together incomplete sentences peppered with English in response. I have so much to say, but the Cantonese words are just out of reach, my tongue unable to retrieve them after being neglected in favor of English for so long. I feel emptier with each visit, like I’m losing not only my connection to my parents but also fragments of my Chinese heritage. Can I call myself Chinese if I barely speak the language?

My parents taught me my first words: naai, when I was hungry for milk, and gai, when I was hungry for chicken. I was born in New York City and spent most of my childhood, in Brooklyn, speaking Cantonese, since it was (and still is) the only language that my parents understand. In the nineteen-eighties, they immigrated to the U.S. from Guangdong, a province in southern China. The jobs they found in hot kitchens and cramped garment factories came with long hours, leaving them no time to learn English. As a result, my parents relied heavily on the Chinese community in New York to survive. I looked forward to running errands with my mother in Manhattan’s Chinatown, where I heard Cantonese spoken all around me in grocery stores, doctors’ offices, and hair salons. On special occasions, we would yum cha with my mother’s friends and eat my favorite dim-sum dishes like cheung fun and pai gwut while they praised my voracious appetite. At home, we watched “Journey to the West,” a popular Hong Kong television series that aired on TVB, and listened to catchy Cantopop songs by Jacky Cheung on repeat. Before I started school, my only friends were the children of other Cantonese-speaking immigrants, with whom I bonded over our shared love of White Rabbit candies and fruit-jelly cups. Cantonese surrounded every aspect of my life; it was all I knew.

When I first learned English in elementary school, I became bilingual quickly with help from English-as-a-second-language classes. I switched back and forth seamlessly between the two languages, running through multiplication tables with my mother in Cantonese and, in the same breath, telling my brother in English that I hated math. I attended my parent-teacher conferences as a translator for my mother despite the obvious conflict of interest; “Jenny is an excellent student over all but needs just a little more help with math,” my third-grade teacher said, which I’d relay to my mom with pride only after redacting the bit about math.

It wasn’t an issue that my math skills weren’t strong. My parents encouraged me to excel in English class because they believed it to be the key to success in America, even if they never learned the language. English would aid in my performance across all subjects in school because that was the language my teachers taught in. But, most important, my parents believed that a mastery of English would promise a good, stable job in the future. This missing piece in my parents’ lives would propel me forward for the rest of mine.

Before long, I learned that there was also significant social currency in adopting English as a primary language. Outside of E.S.L. class, I encountered the first of many “ching chongs” shouted my way. “Do you know that’s what you sound like?” a kid asked, laughing. I did not know, because “ching chong” had never come out of my mouth before. Still, it went on to be a common taunt I endured, along with “No speaky Engrish?,” even though I spoke English. I was humiliated based on how I looked and the fact that I could speak another language. It was an easy decision to suppress Cantonese in an effort to blend in, to feel more American. This didn’t actually work; instead, I felt a diminished sense of both identities.

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back-and-totheleft · 4 years ago

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“I’m not sure I’ve modified my thinking”

“It’s a strange place, England,” Oliver Stone informs me at the start of our Zoom call. “You’ve managed to make it worse than it was,” he says, speaking from his home in Los Angeles. “You’ve turned it into World War Two with your attitudes over there. The English love punishment, it’s part of their make-up.”

You sure know how to break the ice, Mr Stone. It’s a slightly galling accusation, given that he has hitched his wagon to Russia, hardly a paragon of enlightenment. The New York-born writer-director has never shied from ruffling feathers, though. Stone has taken on the American establishment to thrilling effect in his movies, from Platoon to Born on the Fourth of July, JFK to W, Salvador to Snowden, and still emerged with three Oscars. And he has admiringly interviewed a string of figures whose relations with Uncle Sam have rarely been cosy, including Fidel Castro, Hugo Chávez and Vladimir Putin. Those had more mixed receptions, as has his support for Julian Assange.

Yet at 74 he is still a thorn in the side of the military-industrial complex and is set to remain one for some time, having just had his second shot of Covid vaccine. This being Stone, he got his jab in Russia. A recent trial showed the Sputnik V vaccine he was given to have 92 per cent efficacy and he’s palpably delighted. Angry too, of course. “It’s strange how the US ignores that. It’s a strange bias they have against all things Russian,” he says. “I do believe it’s your best vaccine on the market, actually,” he adds, sounding weirdly Trump-like.

If his bullishness is still intact, Stone reveals a more vulnerable side in his recent memoir, Chasing the Light. The book, which he discusses in an online Q&A tonight, goes a long way to explaining his distrust of government, society and, well, pretty much everything. There are visceral accounts of him fighting in Vietnam, and fighting to get Salvador and Platoon made. “The war was lodged away in a compartment, and I made films about it,” he says. “Sometimes I have a dream that I’ve been drafted and sent back there.”

The crucial event in the book, though, is his parents’ divorce when he was 15. Stone realises now that his conservative Jewish-American father and glamorous French mother were ill-suited. Both had affairs. What really stung was the way he was told about their split: over the phone by a family friend while he was at boarding school. “It was very cold, very English,” he says. “I say English because everything about boarding school invokes the old England.” He’s really got it in for us today.

With no siblings, he says, “I had no family after that divorce. It was over. The three of us split up.” His world view stemmed from his parents being in denial about their incompatibility, he writes in the book: “Children like me are born out of that original lie. And nobody can ever be trusted again.”

That disillusionment took a few years to show itself. “All of a sudden, I just had a collapse,” Stone says. He had been admitted to Yale University but his father’s alma mater suddenly felt like part of the problem. He felt suicidal and sidestepped those thoughts by enlisting to fight in Vietnam, putting the choice of him dying into other hands.

The Stone in the book was described by one reviewer as his most sympathetic character. “It’s true probably because it’s a novel,” he says. Well, technically it’s an autobiography, but it’s a telling mistake. Fact and fiction can blur in his work, from the demonisation of Turks in Midnight Express (he wrote the screenplay) to the conspiracy theories in JFK.

Writing the book allowed him to put himself into the story, something he says he’s never been able to do in his films. He has tried. He wrote a screenplay, White Lies, in which a child of divorce repeats his parents’ mistakes, as Stone has. “I had two divorces in my life [from the Lebanese-born Najwa Sarkis and Elizabeth Burkit Cox, who worked as a “spiritual advisor” on his films] and I’m on my third marriage, which I’m very happy in.” He and Sun-jung Jung, who is from South Korea, have been together for more than 25 years. They have a grown-up daughter, Tara, and he has two sons, Sean and Michael, from his marriage to Cox.

White Lies is on ice for now. “It’s hard to get those kinds of things done,” Stone says wearily. Will he make another feature? It’s been documentaries recently, the last two on the Ukraine. “I don’t know. It’s a question of energy. In the old days, there would be a studio you’d have a relationship with, and they’d have to trust you to a certain degree. And that doesn’t exist any more.”

He thinks back to the big beasts of his early years. Alan Parker, who directed Midnight Express; John Daly, who produced Salvador and Platoon; Robert Bolt, who taught him about screenwriting. “Those three Englishmen had a lot to do with my successes,” he says. I think he feels bad about all the limey bashing. “John was a tough cockney, but I liked him a lot.” He liked him more than Parker, whom he describes as “cold” with a “serious chip on his shoulder.” He smiles. “Sure. Alan did a good job with Midnight Express, though.”

You wonder if Netflix could come to Stone’s rescue. They have given generous backing to big-name directors, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese, Stone’s old tutor at NYU film school. Surely they would welcome him? “Well, that’s why you’re not in charge! Netflix is very engineering driven. Subject matter such as [White Lies] might register low on a demographic.”

Isn’t he also working on a JFK documentary, Destiny Betrayed? That could do better with the Netflix algorithms. “I’m having problems with that too. Americans were so concerned with Trump, I don’t know that they wanted to hear about some of the facts behind the Kennedy killing. They don’t recognise that there’s a connection between 1963 and now, that pretty much all the screws came loose when they did that in ’63.” He smiles. “I know you think I’m nuts.”

Well no, but you do wonder at his unwavering conviction that there was a conspiracy to murder Kennedy, probably involving the CIA. JFK is a big reason why a majority of Americans believe in a conspiracy and, according to Stone, led to the establishment of the Assassination Records Review Board, which he claims is “the only piece of legislation in this country that ever came out of a film.”

Yet several serious studies, including a 1,600-page book, Reclaiming History, by the former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, conclude that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. That book accused Stone of committing a “cultural crime” by distorting facts in JFK. “I feel like I’m in the dock with Bugliosi. I didn’t like his book at all,” Stone says. “Believe me, you cannot walk out of [his forthcoming documentary] and say Oswald did it alone. If you do, I think you’re on mushrooms.”

Stone knows whereof he speaks regarding psychedelics. On returning from Vietnam he was “a little bit radical” in his behaviour, he says: drugs, womanising, hellraising. He recently took LSD for the first time in years. “It was wonderful,” he says. He hallucinated that he was “moving from island to island on a little boat”.

What was radical in the Seventies can be problematic now. He has been accused of inappropriate behaviour by the model Carrie Stevens and the actresses Patricia Arquette and Melissa Gilbert. “As far as I know I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do,” he says. Has he modified the way he behaves around women? “Oh sure, no question.”

At the same time, he is disturbed by “the scolding going on, the shaming culture. I don’t agree with any of that. It’s like the Chinese Cultural Revolution. It scares the shit out of me. I do think the politically correct point of view will never be mine.”

He’s not a slavish follower of conspiracy theories — QAnon “sounds like nonsense”, he says, as was the theory that Donald Trump was “a Manchurian candidate for the Russians. That was a horrible thing to do and it hurt that presidency a lot. I’m not an admirer of Trump by any means, but he was picked on from day one.”

What does he make of Joe Biden? “I voted for him, not because I liked him, but as an alternative to Trump’s disasters. He’s got a far more merciful humanitarian side. But he also has a history of warmongering.” Fake news, he says, has “always happened”, in the east and west, on the left and the right. “I mean, back in the Cold War, the US was saying Russia was lying and Russia was saying the US was lying. Each one of these wars the US has been involved in was based on lies.”

It sounds as if Stone has been on the Russian Kool-Aid himself. He is making a documentary, A Bright Future, about climate change that advocates pursuing nuclear power in the short term, and has visited some Russian nuclear plants. They are “very state-of-the-art,” he says. “The US is not really pursuing the big plants, the way Russia and China are. I believe in renewables, but they’re not going to be able to handle the capacity when India and Africa and all these countries come online wanting electricity.”

Putin liked the interviews Stone did with him in 2017, he says. “I think they contributed to his election numbers.” Wasn’t he too easy on the Russian leader? “That’s what some say. But I got his ire up. I did ask him some tough questions about succession. ‘I think you should leave’ — that kind of stuff. The pressure that Russia is under from both England and the US is enormous,” he adds. “Unless you’re there I don’t know that you understand that. Because you take the English point of view, and they have been very anti-Soviet since 1920. You talk about fake news — I feel that way about MI5 and MI6.”

You can’t help but admire Stone’s conviction. If he’s modified his behaviour that’s probably a good thing, but as he says, “I’m not so sure I’ve modified my thinking. I express myself freely. I don’t want to feel muzzled.” Whatever you think of him, be grateful he hasn’t been.

-Ed Potton, “You talk about fake news. I feel that way about MI5 and MI6,” The Times of London, Feb 8 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #chasing the light #the times of london #ptsd #the vietnam war #russia #Trump #joe biden #politics #vaccine

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summoner-kentauris · 4 years ago

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The United Fódlan-Magvel Post-Time Skip Map, Type 1

Previous Post | Next Post

FIGURE ONE

Figure One is simple enough, it’s just the important places in Fódlan with names on it.

FIGURE TWO

This is where it gets juicy. We’re going to go through each of these places more or less individually, so this is going to be a long post, be forewarned. Now, all of these are located roughly where they ought to be in relation to one another. Which means, in many cases there isn’t much choice behind the decision. Still, there was at least a little bit!

[Keep Reading Link Below]

North Magvel

The Black Temple

The Black Temple was placed directly on top of the ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery, as detailed in Post One. This is the site of the Holy Mausoleum, and makes a perfect one-to-one translation to the place where the Demon King Fomortiss’ body will be sealed. Likewise, Garreg Mach is located right next to the Sealed Forest, the one place in Fódlan known for, well... sealing and darkness. From the Sealed Forest will come Darkling Woods. This leads us nicely to...

Caer Pelyn

As some of you may yet be tired of hearing from me, Morva makes a wonderful Seteth. Caer Pelyn has to be near the Black Temple anyway, but there’s something terrifically poetically sad about the last Nabateans hovering around whats left of Garreg Mach.

Neleras Peak

Let’s go ahead and say that whatever disaster laid waste to Faerghus and the Alliance, it involved the javelins of light. One was sent to Garreg Mach, but, as we know, it is protected. Instead, Neleras was detonated, and left in a state of lava-y Ailell hell.

This, again, is is the only site whose location will be completely disregarded. I feel like putting it here again so you don’t have to click all around: in the lore, Mt. Neleras is supposed to be within the Darkling Woods. The Darkling Woods is centered around Caer Pelyn and the Black Temple. Now, the way I see it, you could have that forest cover all that land and still reach across the continent across two countries to where Mt. Neleras is supposed to be. You could also not do that very unpleasant thing. Just- just move it. It’s easy. Look, I’ve done it myself right here.

Melkaen Coast

It’s a coast. It’s located on a coast. Nothing special going on here.

Hamill Canyon

We’ve moved this quite a far bit. For one, a large offshoot of mountain range is no longer here in places. For two, remember that chasm Byleth fell into? Yeah, me too.

Midwest Magvel

Renais

Renais grew from what was left of Remire Village. Much like on the original map, it is protected on the east by mountains, which also render Caer Pelyn inaccessible from Renais.

Za’ha Woods

Now, if I were to remake this map, I’d stick the Za’ha Woods in the Sealed Forest, because Zahras is too linguistically close for me to not want to line them up.

Borgo Ridge

There is actually a small ridge on the Fódlan map right in the vicinity of where Borgo RIdge needs to go. So that was a no-brainer.

Teraz Plateau

It’s a plateau. Near vaguely altitude-y places. Not much else to say here.

West Magvel

Frelia

Frelia is located within range of the Brionac Plateau. You have no idea of deeply desperately I wanted to put it ON the Brionac Plateau. A pegasus-culture located on a giant fantasy plateau? SIgn me the fuck up. Anyway, Frelia is SUPPOSED to be on the coast, though. So, on the coast it goes. Why are there so many plateaus on this map anyhow?

Fort Rigwald

This isn’t located near anything important on the Fódlan map. The Magvel country borders are quite different, so it makes sense that new forts would have to be constructed. I’m still sad about it, though.

Border Mulan

On the Fódlan map, this location is listed as the Western Church. We will assume for this map that whatever they built was strong, and exists in some for or another in Magvel time. At any rate, this location is now Border Mulan.

Ide

North of Borgo Ridge. End of statement.

The Tower Of Valini

This is located on Lake Teutates. There already is the ruins of a tower there already so. Why the fuck not?

(Answer: because Lake Teutates sucks and I wish I could wipe it off the map with my bare hands. Indech do not interact.)

Visual aid for those of you who haven’t been forced to look at Lake Teutates for fifty thousand years and also never used the zoom in mode:

Some other interesting information about Valni/Teutates here:

Valni is Russian for waves (волны). Interestingly enough, the singular form волна is the name of a specific submarine launched ballistic missile.

The Tower of Valni is, of course, notable for having those terrifically obnoxious light beam weapons. Three House is, of course, notable for dropping actual fucking missiles on you. Missiles called javelins of light.

I’m bolding all of that because I’m very excited about it.

Port Kiris

Port Kiris is located in Magvel near the coast of the Northern Sea. I made a minor error in this map, and didn’t place Kiris far enough west. Anyway, in this map Kiris is also located at the end of a river that connects it both to Border Mulan and Frelia, which gives this town more trade power. It is a sea port and also, a river port. Hurray!

The Bay

Serafew

Serafew could be in a range of places. We’ve placed it in the central north of the bay. It is fed by a whole lot of rivers, which would help maintain the city from a logistics point of view. I’m guessing they have a lot of fertile land from the Adlas Plains, as well.

Adlas Plains

Adlas remains at the north mouth of the bay. There is a notable lack of Adlas’s forests in Fódlan’s map; on the other hand, there aren’t really any forests displayed on the map.

Bethroen

Bethroen’s path on the Sacred Stone’s map curves oddly; here, that is replicated and also reinforced by the mountains that back Bethroen. Presumably, here the path is curved because it is a path through the mountains.

South Magvel

Renvall

I really wanted to put Renvall on the ruins/same place as Fort Merceus. Renvall is also located, though, at the base of a river. There is one of those slightly to the left of Merceus. Plus, as we’ll get to in a second, Grado has a pretty set location. All of that means Renvall can’t really go on Merceus. It’s honestly the most reasonable choice, given what happens to Merceus in some of the routes.

At any rate, this is generally where Renvall goes. South east of Adlas, north of the Empire. Both Grado and Adrestian.

Taizel

Taizel is probably the one I’m least happy with. That area on both to Fódlan and Magvel map is occupied. However, in Magvel, that spot is just some town, whereas in Fódlan, its the whole capital of the empire. 800 years is a long time, but to completely wipe the importance of such a well established city? I just don’t know.

Either way, the location lines up wonderfully. As an additional note, both Enbarr and Taizel have rivers to the east of them, and this is continued here.

Za’abul Marsh

It’s a marsh. It goes both near a river, and directly between Taizel and Grado. Not much interesting happening here as far as all that goes. Fódlan provides that excellent river mentioned above.

Grado

Ah, the big one of the region. Grado is near the peninsula. It’s not directly below Renval, or Jehanna Hall, but rests somewhat inbetween the two as far as longitude goes. This area on the Fódlan map has something called the Morgaine Ravine. Now, I’ve finally finished all four routes and as far as I can tell, this fucker has come up exactly zero times. Still, it’s a place notable enough to get a name on the map, and more than that, it’s got earth-splitting connotations with that ravine name. Sounds like a perfect place to stick Grado’s capital if you ask me.

East Magvel

Jehanna Hall

I am so tired. Okay. Three left. So, Jehanna. I don’t know about you, but when I see a gigantic tasty fields-and-plains region, I think, what if desertification? Anyway the point is, Gronder et al. can’t stay delicious and green forever. Especially with everyone and their brother dedicated to fighting on it, or burning it down, or stepping all over it, etc. On this map, this area becomes the desert that Jehanna Hall sits itself right down in.

Now, if only I could figure out who Metis is...

Narube River

Now, strictly speaking, the Narube is located to the east of Jehanna Hall. Why be strict, though, when the Airmid is right there. I mean, its right. there.

Rausten Court

“Hey, wait!” you cry. “Where the hell did Neleras go?”

“Now hang on,” I say. “I feel like I ranted about this. I mean though I can definitely go again, here let me just get my-”

Okay, now Rausten Court

Rausten lies across the River, to the east of Darkling, and occupies its own space away from everything else, really. Of note here is that it’s right behind the Great Bridge. I think that’s pretty neat.

Lagdou Ruins

FINALLY! I‘VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE.

Shambhala. End statement.

Alright, not actually the end of statements. But let me just say: Shambhala got hit by missiles, not destroyed. If people can make it out of there, bits of that place are still intact. And that’s setting aside the fact that, if you look in the zoom in map, that place is a hell of a lot bigger than just the field of combat. Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

AND, lest we forget. The ninth floor of Lagdou is in fact lava-burn-y. Which could jsut mean lava... or the predictable and regularly desribed aftermath of the lances of light that Shambhala gets hit with in canon.

Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

Because of this, Lagdou has experienced a bit of a shift. It is still located next to all the proper geographical feature, it is just that the removal of Neleras means that part of the continent is a bit stretched.

Aaannnd that’s the end of this post! Stay tuned for the next post, which is just the nice final fancy map.

#fódlan magvel #long post #worldbuilding references

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malignedaffairs · 5 years ago

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Artist Interview

Some time ago I was asked to answer some questions for a Russian community that collects interviews from various fanartists - what a lovely idea! Here’s the Russian translation along with lots of other interesting interviews. Under the cut is the English version.

On the artist

Nickname: Fifi

Date of birth: December 11th

What city are you from? Berlin

What genre in music do you prefer? Are there any favorite bands/singers? Dark electro, industrial, gothic, EBM, new wave, with a little side of metal and rock’n’roll. My favourite band is Rammstein.

The book that made the most impression and why? There’s nothing life-changing, but I have a ritual of reading before bedtime and some books have been great companions, mostly because they are gripping as hell or because they build up a huge world to blissfully get lost in. I really enjoyed In Cold Blood, The Swarm, Out, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Fifth Woman, Into Thin Air, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings and ASOIAF.

What are your hobbies besides artistic creativity? Video games, reading up/watching documentaries on things like history, nature, the psychology connected to criminal cases or the obscure niche interest du jour, tasting and trying to cook food from around the world, spending time with close friends and family, planning trips and travelling, board games, being outside in nature, doting on my cat.

What movies (TV series) do you like to watch? Is there something you revise (recommend)? I prefer short thriller/mystery/horror series like Zone Blanche, The Sinner, La Forêt, Penny Dreadful, period dramas like Moon Lovers or The Tudors, movies/series that are funny and thoughtful like Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Intouchables and Better Call Saul, Tarantino movies, oh and movies/series about food!

Favorite anime? Mushishi, Hellsing Ultimate, Samurai Champloo, Kuroko no Basuke, Dragonball Z

Favorite manga? Vagabond, Blade of the Immortal, Naruto, Dragonball, Rookies, Shokugeki no Soma

Favorite pictures, installations? Romanticism paintings, they’re so atmospheric. And traditional artwork from indigenous cultures.

Is there something that you would have trouble parting with? (Some thing, for example) There are things like my old diaries or my hard drive full of photos and drawings, but in general I’m more attached to places than to things.

What are your future plans? Getting better at my job, falling in love, lots of drawings.

On the art

What was the beginning of your passion? Discovering how crayons work as a toddler, I guess.

Do you think the academic base is obligatory and should everyone go through universities to be good masters? I think a profound education can totally polish your technical skills, so the benefits can be great. But art is very individual, and you don’t need university for expressing yourself creatively. When I graduated from high school I thought about studying to become a professional artist, but decided on keeping it a leisure activity for me to unwind and express myself without any pressure.

How long have you been drawing? I’ve been drawing from early childhood.

Tell us about the process of drawing. Where do you start, how do you finish? How much time is spent on drawing? When I’m super lazy, I just use one layer. I start with a rough sketch and refine it by just adding cleaner lines on top and erasing the messy parts. When I’m less lazy I do a rough sketch and a second layer of clean lines on top. During the process I often adjust proportions by cutting, warping and relocating parts of the content. For a comic I first think of a rough plot and draft the dialogue, then make a rough storyboard with page thumbnails. I usually only plan around three pages at a time, never the whole thing in one go. Colouring is another beast entirely. No system there whatsoever, I just put colours on there and hope for the best. Usually a drawing takes me at least two hours, comic pages take up to eight hours. I mostly use the same three brushes all the time.

How did your nickname appear? Fifi-la-fumeuse is a random thing I found in a book about curiosities I bought in Paris a long time ago. It’s basically a vintage doll that was used for educating students about the dangers of smoking during pregnancy. I liked how creepy it looked and the name sounds nice and a little similar to my real name, so I’ve kept it ever since. Malignedaffairs is an allusion to the “forbidden” nature of Itasasu, which was my OTP when I started my blog back in 2012/13. Nowadays I’m finding the name rather corny, but it’s what most people associate with my art, so I’m just keeping it.

What inspires you? Everyday life, my feelings, media, exchanging ideas with people within the fandom.

How do you feel about criticism? Do you criticize other artists? I’m not here for the criticism. My first and foremost goals in posting art on the internet are expressing my feelings, getting in touch with like-minded people and having fun, not necessarily improving my artwork or meeting any achievement goals. I’m grateful for constructive criticism if I respect and trust the person who gives it. I only give criticism if invited to do so.

Do you have your own characters? Or maybe the whole universe? Tell a little about it. No, I don’t have any OCs at all.

How did you come to the Naruto fandom? What kind of heroes do you draw and why them? My ex bf was a big fan of Naruto and always tried to get me into it, but I found it boring and childish. After we broke up though, I felt really lost and started to watch Naruto as a way to feel a little closer to him, and before I knew it I was super into the plot and the characters and then Itachi appeared and the story of the Uchiha brothers struck a very deep chord with me. I’m very much into beautiful, tragic, brilliant but troubled characters who are sweet cinnamon rolls inside, and Itachi and Shisui are like the posterboys for this concept. I feel like they’re the perfect muses for me to give some kind of shape to my ideals of love and mutual respect.

Do you agree with the opinion that national self-perception, as an intellectual factor, is present in the creative process? You’re always influenced by the social environment, the battles and the values you grew up with, and some of that can be determined by your nationality. Themes like identity, society, communication, politics and ideologies are often expressed in art, and if that’s the case you can’t and probably don’t even aim to separate it from national self-perception. I think it’s more present in original art than in fanart though.

What topics worry you and most often are reflected in your work? Belonging, mutual love, loss, sex.

Do you consider drawing to be your recognition in life? Do you plan to continue to devote yourself to this business? It’s an important part of my life and I’m going to do it as long as it feels right, but I won’t pressure myself.

What advice do you have for novice artists? Expect your drawings to look ugly in the beginning and draw all the ugly pictures anyway. Draw whatever attracts you, however silly it may seem. “Art block” means you should lower the pressure on yourself and allow yourself to draw something ugly, silly or uncreative, or even take a break from drawing. Art is not about achievement but about expression. Don’t take it personally when no one seems to appreciate your art right away. Instead actively seek out like-minded people in online communities or in real life, get engaged and show your art to them. Also: flip that canvas!

#text #too bad i can't read russian #i'd love to read all those interviews without the awkward translation google translate spits out

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bifacialler · 5 years ago

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So I went to see Frozen 2 with the fam

And let me put it into context, I thought the first one was... massively overrated.

[Disclaimer: all of this is my personal opinion and you may not agree with it. There is a very high chance you will not agree with it. Also, I watched it with Russian dub, so maybe some finesse was lost on me.]

Like okaaay, it’s a sister-tale and it was okay in terms of story and engagement, and yeah, we all laughed about Elsa’s ghost braid and the one-face syndrome of the female cast, but the animation quality was good, and Hans plot twist WAS unexpected. It just didn’t blow me way narratively. Maybe because Snow Queen was important to me as a child and the old soviet cartoon will forever be my go-to reference.

So when I went to watch the Sequel, I a) had next to no idea what it was going to be about and b) seeing the trailer, I was sure the animation would have upgraded, and I hoped they would take on the misgivings of the first film and improve upon them.

Frozen 2 (as it turned out to be) was not the film I expected to see.

I’m going to make this (try to make this) a spoiler-free review. This is mostly for me to spill acid in the wake of Oscar Nominations that thought to include this sequel and fucking Live-Action Animation movie we are not going to name, and not KLAUS.

Which is the best animation made this year.

You can fight me outside if you don’t agree.

[Missing Link was okay, though not as emotionally thoughtful as any other Laika work. Toy Story 4 was alright-ish, but still underwhelming in comparison to TS3. The only film I have no questions about is HTTYD 3 - it was very good, but this is not what this post is about.]

So anyway, Frozen 2 is a total mess.

Visually it’s wonderful, and the sisters look different (slightly), and parents have some sort of personalities, which still makes their Else-related decision strange and shitty parenting. We all agreed it was after the first film, but I’m going to return to this pint later.

There are two major themes going to through the plot, the first one just bashing you head-first from the very beginning, while the other follows... two minutes later. The thing with these two themes is: the first one is the most foreseeable plot twist of all time, especially if you consider this film as a product of our current social climate, while the second one, while kinda the continuation of Elsa’s “Let it go” character arc, takes this arc to some very very far-fetched OP level, that at some point you really have to sit back and force yourself to suspend the disbelief of “Elsa, the most Magical Girl of them all”.

It’s honestly a shame. Because these core themes are not the worst. There are a lot of element to them that the film introduces that are good, and could work, EXCEPT the film either does nothing with them, or tries to underplay them as something mysterious and strange which... they kinda don’t feel like.

All of these problems stream from one massive misgiving the film has, and it’s that the film doesn’t clearly know who it is for. It tries to play the card of “kids who watched the first movie will come to see this one, so this film is for them”, but what was supposed to be a step forward, somehow became two steps back. The theme A will not engage adults, because adults will see through it in 5 seconds and the final outcome of it will be the only thing acceptable as an outcome (within the current cultural climate, as I mentioned before), while at the same time it will not work for kids, because they will, quite frankly, not give single fuck about it. They will giggle at Olaf and his questionable shenanigans, that will pop up at random times during the film, kinda stalling the plot - no, let me correct myself. Kids will engage with Olaf’s slap-stick, and... nothing else. I wish I could not say that, but I sat in the movie theatre packed with kids, and this is what I saw and heard. When the kid on the seat before me (6-7 yo) during one of the most emotional parts of the film replied to Anna’s “what am I going to do now?” with “nothing”, it dawned upon me that the message did not connect.

I personally had to pause myself several times during the showing, just to ask myself: What the actual hell am I watching?

And then we come to theme B. I heard in one of the reviews that this film would have been a much better, more engaging film if the creators made it Just Elsa’s Story. Both themes could have been included, but the emphasis wold have been solidly of theme B and Elsa, and how we, as audience, would experience this whole process with her, and I agree. Not that it would have been completely awesome for younger kids, because the concept of it flies a bit over their age group, but it would have been interesting for Elsa stans, and as a general themes of the movie.

But this universe is not just about Elsa. It has Anna as well. And this movie does Anna a huge disservice. I’m not even going to talk about Kristoff. That was just... sad. So very sad, and pointless, and every time their interactions came on screen I had to stuff down my second-hand embarassment and marvel at how this relationship is not ready for what the film wants it to be and how can you mess up the intriguing chemistry that they started to in the first film. (Also, if you actually like the whole Kristoff in the Woods music video, but somehow ever said anything bad about Strange Magic, you are on my problematic list. I’m not fucking around.) But Anna - she was a decent character, and humanly believable, and now she is... in this movie. This is Elsa Movie and Anna is... also in it. (Unlike Kristoff.) Wow.

But the strangest thing about this movie is that with both themes A and B combined, we encounter a dilemma that overruns both of them, and in many ways, renders them null. It came to my attention when some young dad behind me muttered half-way “Can you believe these two run a kingdom?”, and I had a revelation. They DO run a kingdom. And the narrative “call to action” is kingdom-related, except it’s not, because it’s Elsa related. And Theme B is kingdom-related, except it’s not, it’s past related. It’s a question of responsibility, except somehow all of this responsibility is not about the Now. The characters feel the need to fix what was done before them, to discover what was before them, while literally abandoning the present for the past. The one time when the stakes are actually raised, ONE TIME in the whole movie when you have to actually worry, I was seriously more concerned about how the whole of the kingdom is.... I can’t explain it without spoilers, but when the ruler has to chose between the mistakes of the past and the preservation of the current, I’m honestly fucking worried about the kingdom and the people living in it, and maybe Anna and Elsa should not be fucking rulers. I’m just saying.

But even that is, this one stake... is flushed down the drain. The resolution of the film feels rushed and jumbled, and most importantly, Nothing is Lost. I had to sit and watch in awe at how Zero Sacrifices were made. The characters make a right moral choice therefore there will be no bad consequences. What the actual fuck. For a film that makes us wonder about who we are and now we make major decisions, it offers no serious outcomes to these decisions. And this is why it’s two steps back.

First movie made it clear that Letting it Go is not just about your personal freedom, but also about stepping out of comfort zone to embrace who you are and what is important. It made it clear that personal relationships are not straight forward, and take time and work and communication.

And it feels like this sequel kinda spit in the face of all these ideas. The characters now do whatever they want, and in the way, especially in application to Anna and Elsa, repeat the very same mistakes their parents did, except it’s now somehow a good thing. Because everything works out in the end because magic.

Oh, fuck off.

#long post #tldr Frozen 2 is not very good #except for animation quality #it was very pretty #not much else

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witchofeindor · 5 years ago

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Hi Leah מה קורה I was in Dagestan this summer (it's so pretty!!) and I visited derbent and was told that it was pretty much a jewish town until like the 70s(???) when the majority of derbent jews migrated to Israel. Since you are Dagestani I was wondering if you could tell me more? Do u have a connection to derbent or are you from a different part of Dagestan? פשוט בא לי לדעת יותר על היהודים מדרבנט ו/או דגסטן בכללי. סורי אם זה אסק מוזר Love uu xx

Hi nonny, nice! Glad you had fun there! I’ve never been to Dagestan myself lol, I was born and raised in Israel lol

also yeah!!! My paternal grandma z”l was a Derbendi Jew, actually! (Both of my grandfathers were from Makhachkala though) her family was forced to move to Makhachkala though after the communists rose to power and stole everything from them and they became dirt poor, but her native language was the Derbendi dialect of Juhuri (=the language of Kavkazi Jews, derived from Persian), and whenever she’d get angry or affectionate she’d often switch from Russian into Juhuri lol (hence my VERY limited Juhuri vocab consists of mostly curses, food related words, and blessings/affectionate terms lol)

Researches show Kavkazi Jews, and that includes Dagestani & Azeri Jews, are descendants of Iranian Jews, whom we ARE linguistically related to (our language, Juhuri, is derived from Persian), and our praying נוסח is the Mizrahi one. Many Kavazki Jews though consider themselves close culturally to Iraqi Jews as well, and I’ve definitely seen similarities with my Iraqi Jewish friends, and it’s plausible that our ancestors stopped on their way from Erez Yisrael in what is nowadays Iraq, then moved to Iran, where they resided for longer, and then to Azerbaijan & Dagestan, though personally I am not familiar with researches who say that.

Despite our נוסח being the Mizrahi נוסח and being culturally close to Mizrahi Jews, Kavkazi Jews are considered their own distinct Jewish group, as are Georgian Jews, (I’m ¼ Georgian Jewish myself lol), Indian Jews, Ethiopian Jews etc., who all form Jewish groups that are neither Ashkenazi, Mizrahi nor Sefardi.

Our minhagim are honestly also all over the place, and due to the Russian & Soviet rule over Dagestan, there’s a Russian influence on our culture as well and honestly culturally we are all over the place lol (in my family we have Dagestani dishes, Georgian dishes, Russian dishes etc., the kitchen is REALLY varied and I am sups thankful for it lol).

My paternal grandma z"l was from a pretty מיוחסת family in Derbent actually, her father was a rabbi and an אב בית דין, his tombstone even says so in Hebrew, (my paternal aunt stores MANY of the Jewish books he had in Hebrew & Aramaic up to this day) and being the daughter of an אב בית דין, my grandma knew many, many other Kavkazi Jews, and before her death, the רבנות ראשית בירושלים would often call her to verify on the Jewish background of Kavkazi Jews who wanted to get married via the Rabbanut, since she knew many, many of the Jewish families there.

Also I’m not Dagestani as much as I’m Jewish/a Dagestani Jew? Like our identity was always Jewish first, the location in the diaspora/exile always shaped our culture of course, but if you ask any Kavkazi Jew, they’ll tell you they are Jewish first, like that’s the main part of our identity in general, no Kavkazi Jew I know feels Dagestani/Azeri (since Kavkazi Jew is the collective name given to Jews both from Dagasten and Azerbaijan) like that’s not an important part of our identity as much as being Jewish is, if that makes sense? since we’re ethnically Jewish, unlike the 33 native nations to Dagestan?

Anyways, Derbent was the the cultural centre for Jews in Dagestan, and the Derbendi dialect of Juhuri was considered the closest to an ‘official’ one, and while most Kavkazi Jews from Dagestan either fled to Israel (like my family), moved to Moscow or to the US, the few that are left there reside mostly in Derbent and there’s still ongoing Jewish life there, to this day, actually! They have שחיטה כשרה there and everything. My uncle and cousin both married Jewish women from Derbent and many of their relatives still live there.

As for culture, I’d say in my experience there’s no big difference between Jews from Derbent and Jews from Makhachkala, seeing as both groups are Kavkazi and specifically Dagestani Jews?

One difference I do see in my family is language - both of my parents who grew up in Makhachkala, for instance, had Russian as their native language, while Juhuri was just the language their parents spoke when they didn’t want them to understand what they were saying (both of my parents have some understanding of Juhuri though, they are nowhere near fluent but they can understand most of it, esp. my dad), whereas my aunt, my uncle’s wife, who was born and raised in Derbent, spoke Juhuri as her native language, and acquired Russian only later. She’s fluent in Russian though, but speaks with an accent.

My parents don’t have as much of an accent, and - this is true for my extended family but no idea whether it’s the same for other Kavkazi Jews from Dagestan - my small family is more ‘Russianised’ in culture? Like, culturally I DO feel closer to Russian Jews than I do to fellow Kavkazi Jews, and in a couple of family events, I even had cultural shock when meeting extended family members, who were… much more ‘Kavkazi’ in culture than we were. I think this might be a big city vs. small town thing, but seeing as both Makhachkala AND Derbent are big cities, I don’t think that’s a serious factor there.

I would say that Derbendi Jews are less assimilated in Russian culture than Makhachkala Jews, seeing as, at least in my family, those raised in Makhachkala had Russian being their first language and don’t speak with much of an accent while Derbendi Jews were raised with Juhuri being their first language and Russian being their second, speaking the latter fluently albeit with an accent. So a linguistic difference surely exists.

The Juhuri pronunciation of Hebrew words and Jewish terms is the same in both groups though. (Everything ends with an ‘o’ instead of an ‘a’, similar to Iranian, Iraqi and Ashkenazi Jews. And I DO mean everything. We say XanukO instead of Xanuka, for fuck’s sake)

As for food though, we all share the same food but sometimes their names differ. For instance, what I’d call ‘kurze’ (similar to Russian pelmeni if you are familiar), Derbendi Jews call ‘dushpare’.

חחחח sorry for rambling and info-dumping random info on you, but if you have any specific questions about Derbendi Jews, send me an ask and I’ll call my aunt for answers lol

Hopes this makes any sense? I’m sorry I’m being an incoherent mess as per usual lol

Anyways if you have any specific questions - send them my way and I’ll ask older family members for answers!

Love u too, nonny ❤️

#ask #reply #Jewish tag #Kavkazi tag #if I even have one #anon #Anonymous

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canchewread · 5 years ago

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Editor’s note: this is going to be a very different sort of book review article than the ones I usually write; namely in that the main essay doesn’t include an actual book review.

For those of you who are curious - “Permanent Record” by Edward Snowden is an enjoyable read which I have no regrets about buying, even in hardcover. Although it’s true that there are no “new” revelations about the NSA mass surveillance program and part of the story Snowden is telling has already been told from the perspective of other people involved in the later stages of the tale, I disagree with the idea that the book presents “no new information.” The author’s impassioned arguments about the need to alter the fundamental functions and purpose of the internet, his clear insight into the reasons why online privacy rights were now as fundamentally essential to a free society as our already recognized rights and freedoms and finally the exposure of the thoughts, motivations and overall rationale that finally pushed Snowden to leak evidence of the NSA mass surveillance program are all fundamentally “new” bits of information - they just aren’t leaks.

All in all I’d say it’s a good book but it’s still a biography and as such you can probably afford to wait for the softcover, unless the CIA finds a way to ban it before then.

---

The Casualties of Cacophony

As those of you who read my post on Can't You Read yesterday already know, I recently purchased the new Edward Snowden biography and I've been reading it during smoke breaks for the past three days.

After hearing from numerous reviewers that the book contained "no new information" my primary motive here was personal enjoyment but even just the act of buying the book itself was telling me a story I wasn't listening to and wouldn't understand until this weekend. I'll explain:

On the day the Permanent Record was released in the country I'm staying in right now, I went out to my local bookstore to purchase it with tampered expectations and yet still, a certain amount of hopeful expectation.

Now before I continue further here I should mention that Americans who do not travel abroad are largely unaware of the tremendous amount of influence U.S. political media and ideological thought have over the (largely) white majority of the West in general and most Five Eyes countries in particular. Furthermore this influence is typically divided along the exact same "culture war" political lines that exist in the United States, although the degree to which they incite passions often varies from region to region - the average Canadian "conservative" cannot afford to be as rabid about opposing gun control laws as the average American "conservative" because culturally the idealized tradition of gun ownership does not exist there - but the idea, even without its systemic reinforcement, does.

I mention this because my local bookstore can be said to have a distinctly Americanized "liberal" set of sensibilities and ideas; although they would likely object to that statement as all Canadians vociferously object when you compare them to Americans. This is reflected in the "balanced" book selections on the shelf (which overwhelmingly consists of mainstream liberal, or conservative writers/thinkers and or Canadian authors) and in the sensibilities of the staff, management, and ownership I’ve encountered while shopping there; all of which were (as far as I can tell) fundamentally identical to those of your average white American Democrat.

I don't say any of these things to disparage them; the shop is a small, single-proprietor business and it's hardly surprising to anyone who understands class dynamics that a petite-bourgeoisie bookstore in a rural "conservative area" isn't going to be a hotbed of left wing thought or ideology.

Yet despite all of this, I found myself somewhat shocked when the clerk behind the counter informed me that the stored hadn't ordered any copies of Ed Snowden's new biography - so much so that I did a double take. I asked again, if only to confirm that it wasn't a question of U.S. Government censorship or the fact that I was in a country that wasn't home so the release dates had changed - no, they simply hadn't ordered it.

For my part I assumed that was a careless mistake, after all even mainstream liberals had celebrated Snowden as a heroic whistleblower when the results of his revelations were appearing in corporate "liberal" news publications like the Washington Post and The Guardian. At that point (and while still not connecting the dots) I asked the store to order me a copy and helpfully suggested that they might want to order several copies for their shelf as this was the first time to my knowledge that Snowden would be presenting his own thoughts about one of the more important scandals and abuses of government power in our lifetime.

Then I innocently went on my way and back to my busy life for a week until the book finally arrived. As it turned out (and at my insistence) they'd ordered two copies, one of which was mine.

This decision would continue to baffle me for several long hours after I left the bookstore and indeed, none of it would start to make sense until I actually started reading Snowden's book - and with that act, found that the flood of memory about the NSA mass surveillance leaks and the political circus surrounding it, came rushing back to my mind like a raging river of madness and deceit.

There is, especially for the scholar, something altogether terrifying about reading something that you already knew and realizing, as you're in the very act of reading it, that you had for all intents and purposes forgotten something important that you were never supposed to forget. After all you can’t rightly analyze society without analyzing the history that helped shape that society, and you certainly can’t analyze history that you don’t even remember.

This creeping and altogether horrifying feeling of morally inexcusable “forgetting” became my constant companion as I reviewed Snowden's work, in his own words, while reading Permanent Record. I'm not just talking about the NSA spying and online data collection programs either; those I readily remembered, although I can't necessarily say the same for the public at large around me. As Snowden recounted James Clapper lying under oath to Congress, the (now all but completely deposed) wave of Democratic Socialist governments that opposed American internet surveillance and even the U.S. government’s efforts to trap the author in Moscow so he wouldn't fly to Ecuador, I slowly realized what I'd forgotten.

I'd forgotten the sheer breadth and open brazenness of the Pig Empire's war on not just privacy, but the truth. A war conducted not just against the whistleblowers and those rare few souls in the media who would seek to help them expose abuses, violations and atrocities conducted by our governments and the ruling classes of our societies, but also on each of us, on our own feelings, our own memories and dare I say it, our own psychological well-being. A war we are all losing as I write this to you today.

To understand what I mean by that however we’re going to have to go back to the bookstore and answer the question I should have been asking the day I tried to buy a copy of Permanent Record I the first place. That question is of course “what changed?” If only six years ago, Edward Snowden was a hero in liberal media (The Guardian U.S., the Washington Post) for exposing mass surveillance and abuses by the NSA and various arms of U.S. intelligence, why was I getting a weird side-eye for even asking about the book in an ostensibly “liberal” bookstore – especially in Canada?

While I won’t claim to be psychic, I think it’s fair to say that what have largely changed are mainstream liberal attitudes towards leaks, whistleblowers and the larger American national security state. Somewhere in the culture war-fueled anger about losing the 2016 U.S election, among stories of malignant foreign hackers, Hillary’s leaked emails, the Russianization of Wikileaks, the demonization of Julian Assange, the lionization of Barack Obama and a new fascist president’s ongoing war with “true liberal patriots” in his own FBI and CIA, the original signal had been lost. More accurately, the past on some deep and purely emotional level in the larger liberal zeitgeist had been replaced with a new communal understanding that my alienation from mainstream liberal thought had prevented me from recognizing until now. The word ‘replaced’ rather than ‘forgotten’ is important here because due to social pressures and the normal human tendency to forget our own embarrassing mistakes, the memory of Snowden’s time as a brave hero in the liberal reckoning is at best extremely hazy and more often than not, completely gone from the minds of most observers.

To the clerk behind the counter I wasn’t asking for a biography about a heroic whistleblower, but instead a bound volume of lies written by a traitor whose very existence represented a threat to their now-entrenched image of the iconic and canonized last liberal President (Barack Obama) and whose “decision” to hide from “justice” in the now thoroughly hated Russia proved where his true allegiances had always lain. Besides, even if in some unlikely event Snowden was innocent and Obama had gone after the wrong guy - leakers and traitors represent a grave threat to our beloved intelligence agents who are, as you all know from hours of repetition on Rachel Maddow, the only thing standing between everything you love about America and the sinister iron grip of Vladimir Putin.

From the mainstream liberal perspective I might as well have been asking them to fetch me a copy of the latest work by Lee Harvey Oswald at that point. Nothing about Snowden or his earth-shattering leaks had changed, but because the larger feelings about Snowden had been altered, both the leaked information and the author himself were now perceived in a new and wholly less favorable light.

In the often quoted but rarely understood science-fiction novel about authoritarian states entitled 1984, author George Orwell’s central character Winston chillingly observes that “who controls the past, controls the future: who controls the present, controls the past.”

What Orwell meant by this is that the powers of the day control our understanding of, perceptions about and feelings towards the past and in doing so can have a tremendous amount of influence on our actions in the future. Of course in his novel the Ingsoc government had absolute control to write and re-write the historical record of society but the author was also engaging a metaphor that cast light on the nature of this truism in even a “liberal democratic” nation like Britain in the late 1940’s. It is not enough to simply acknowledge that “history is written by the victors” but one must also be aware that the writing and analysis of our society’s historical record (which is often conducted in real time by the news media) is largely conducted by upper class writers who are ultimately employed in the service of some aspect of establishment power or another – whether we’re talking about mainstream corporate media companies, the American government itself or the elite educational institutions that churn out historians, journalists and the general class of television punditry.

At this point you might find yourself protesting that despite their upper class backgrounds, the media, publishing houses and academic institutions don’t work for the government and in some broader sense that’s true, but in terms of the facts on the ground in the war against truth, it’s also hopelessly naïve. Setting aside the obvious reality that corporate media and elite educational institutes are themselves part of what any sane person would identify as “establishment power” the fact is that the American government does actively seek to influence the records of our past, both in real time and in its own files.

We know from revelations like “Operation Mockingbird” and the periodic unmasking of intelligence agency employees in the public eye that at least some of “the news” is directly written by folks with very clear ties to U.S. intelligence. From incidents like the Valerie Plame Affair, we know that the government sometimes purposely leaks top secret information to the media for its own nefarious purposes. We know that official government sources and interpretations of events are almost invariably broadcast unaltered and without serious challenge in mainstream media outlets - how many stories in the past month have you read that contained information from “a senior administration source” or “an undisclosed official at the State Department?” I’ll bet it’s happened significantly more times than you’ll remember.

This reinforcement of the establishment line even filters all the way down to your local news, where police department summaries of “officer involved shootings” are routinely broadcast as if they were the established facts of the case with few, if any questions asked about whether or not the department might be somehow motivated to lie about why some cop shot someone in broad daylight, again.

Not sinister enough for you? Okay, how about the Bush administration’s decision to retroactively classify thousands upon thousands of government documents and legal opinions that had already been released to the public, thereby effectively erasing America’s own arguments against the illegal activities the administration engaged in - like mass surveillance, extraordinary rendition (read: kidnapping) and the now rarely-mentioned and almost forgotten CIA torture program? Sort of puts the now infamous Karl Rove quote “we're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors...and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do” into a new and terrifying perspective, doesn’t it?

Please keep in mind that these are only the direct ways the state, virtually any Pig Empire state, influences the media and thereby our collective real-time record of history; there are quite literally a myriad a indirect ways the state influences the media you consume as well. A good example might be simple access to the information a journalist needs to write stories; if a news outlet is consistently critical of the government and skeptical of the claims made by its officials, how long do you think they’ll keep getting off the record statements, leaks and interviews from people aligned with that government? How about the right-leaning billionaires who own modern media companies, do you think they align with the interests and power of the government? Well they probably should in America at least - thanks to the magic of corporate lobbying and Citizens United they own most of the politicians who work in that government after all. Once you realize that Jeff Bezos owns both the Washington Post and Amazon, the latter of which currently has the cloud computing contract for the CIA, the idea that you can separate establishment power in the state, from establishment power in the private sector (even in private media) starts to look more than just a little bit obtuse.

Of course as Michael Parenti discussed at length in his still spectacular 1986 work “Inventing Reality: the Politics of the Mass Media” not even a corporate news outlet can lie away some stories without irreparably damaging their credibility. Presented with the opportunity for a scoop, irrefutable evidence and public outcry bolstered by outrage among even the average “liberal” voter the corporate media was forced to turn against their own political allies and go along for the ride on the “Edward Snowden is the greatest hero of our time” train - although not without fastidiously printing government lies and denials as if they were fact in the very same articles that proved Snowden’s accusations.

Over time however and under the relentless crushing weight of op-ed after op-ed, an edit here, an omission there, one tiny smear and suggestive bit of framing at a time and the story starts to change. You can’t actually alter history but by subtly washing Snowden’s story in the ongoing smears against Julian Assange, Chelsea Manning and other whistleblowers while casually omitting the subject or context of the author’s still mindbogglingly important revelations, you can start to change feelings about the past and the rest is basically a self-reinforcing cycle with a highly predictable outcome.

Memories of complex technical information about online surveillance fade, and the constantly reinforced feeling that leakers and whistleblowers are harming our brave and decidedly “anti-Trump” intelligence agencies in their battle against the dastardly Russian menace and Vladimir Putin, takes their place - until one day, just over six years after Edward Snowden risked his life and freedom to blow the whistle on an ever growing American police state, some clerk at a small town liberal bookstore is eyeing you up as a potential terrorist when you ask about purchasing the Snowden biography in broad daylight.

Understood in that light, perhaps the most alarming thing about Orwell’s quote as spoken by Winston in 1984 is the fact that the author didn’t know about and had no way of conceiving of the internet. Here after all is an environment where editing the record of the past is as easy as pulling down one article and publishing a new one under the same URL as before - and if you don’t think that is happening online, even in stories published by major news corporations you simply haven’t been paying very much attention.

Nor could Orwell have imagined that between social media, the comments section and twenty-four hour cable news programming, we would create a media environment that intrinsically favors outrageous or controversial lies over “boring” and nuanced truths. He could not have predicted that eventually the average American media consumer would become so bombarded with marketing, propaganda and contradictory information that all too often the facts of current events would be lost, replaced only by a wave of vague and hard to pin down emotions that in turn color the observer’s future observations - even observations about the now forgotten facts themselves.

One man however did see it coming and long before the internet existed in its present form - Canadian professor and communication theorist Marshall McLuhan. Combining his study of the effects advertising had on society with some alarmingly prescient observations about the fundamental ways “electronic media” was altering man’s relationship with the world, McLuhan predicted a society totally immersed in a cocoon of endless media content which served more to inspire feelings and emotions than to inform - an idea partially captured in his most famous phrase “the medium is the message.” In the case of ongoing Snowden coverage in the mainstream media, the contents of the stories themselves (and indeed, the author’s act of heroism on behalf of global society) have clearly taken a backseat in favor of defending the national security state and establishment power as a whole over time.

Although this probably isn’t what McLuhan ultimately meant by his famous phrase one can certainly say with a certain amount of bitter irony that in the Snowden story at least, the medium has indeed become the message - the problem is that the medium, corporate liberal media that directly influences mainstream liberal attitudes and opinions, doesn’t like the message our intrepid whistleblower delivered and now after years of subtle propaganda, neither do most of the people consuming that media.

Perhaps the saddest part of it all is that reading “Permanent Record” makes it clear that Snowden himself has almost no idea that this massive cultural shift in attitude towards him has even occurred. Frankly, how could he? Trapped in exile, he didn’t directly experience the slow and often subtle media reconstruction of public confidence in the national security state over these past six years. Having been purposely shut out by both the American government and the mainstream media, Snowden was unable to participate effectively in the ongoing discussion around whistleblowers and the demonization of leaks. In far away Moscow it may not have even occurred to him that hostile feelings towards Julian Assange on behalf of newly-anointed liberal saint Hillary Clinton would poison the liberal discourse towards all other “leakers” like himself.

In some ways the war against truth as it pertains to Edward Snowden has already been won by the national security state. Sure the author’s leaks promoted some legal restrictions on the NSA’s power but even Snowden openly admits that this isn’t nearly enough to effectively stop government mass surveillance. Indeed, Snowden himself and a few of the more famous journalists who told his story are really the only triggers that jog the public memory left in this story. The author exists as a living reminder that freedom and democracy are a sham in a post-internet world and that’s why he will never be pardoned and never be allowed to return home so long as this establishment remains in power - not just the government, but the whole corrupt oligarchy and all of its elite corpse merchants.

All wars, even propaganda wars, have causalities.

- nina illingworth Independent writer, critic and analyst with a left focus. You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog. Updates available on Twitter, Mastodon and Facebook. Chat with fellow readers online at Anarcho Nina Writes on Discord!

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laufie · 5 years ago

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here’s a fun story about a creepy dude/stalker i had. it was a strange situation at the time, and i realize in hindsight i should have been much more scared, but it’s been over 10 years so i can just laugh about it now. it doesn’t describe anything traumatic or graphic, but it’s quite eerie.

anyway, i was about 15 or 16 years old at the time, and it had been just over a year since i moved to canada from ukraine. i still used vk (russian equivalent of facebook) frequently to chat with friends, and had an inside joke in my bio about taking LSD. i wasn’t actually taking anything, as i said it was an inside joke.

out of nowhere, this russian dude sends me a pm about how if im really taking LSD i should be able to name some specific formula or dosage or something. i explained to him that it was an inside joke and i know next to nothing about the drug itself, and he laughed it off. we started talking because i noticed it said on his profile that he currently lived in new york, which was a place i’ve always dreamt of visiting. we ended up talking every day about random things, mostly his love of new york and the array of recreational drugs he does.

he didn’t seem dangerous. he never talked about heavy drugs like heroin or meth, and was heavily against them. he was russian of course, as he was in new york only temporarily, so i felt a sense of connection to him, since i was still overcoming the cultural shock of moving to canada. to my mind at that age he didn’t seem like he had any bad motive. he didn’t ask especially prying questions, he was always nice and well-spoken, and enjoyed philosophical discussion. he gave off a vibe of a trustworthy person, which is a note of positivity that would have persisted throughout this whole story...

had he not been 7 years older than me. an important detail that slipped through the cracks at the time - he was 22 when i was 15. i knew he was more mature than me, but as far as i remember, i never actually got to find out his age back then. in hindsight of course, aside from the glaring age difference, he did give off red flags. calling me much more mature than other girls my age was perhaps the most glaring one. at the time. and of course, the constant glorification of drugs.

mind you, this was more than 10 years ago. the internet was a different place at the time. there was no tumblr or twitter or adults that grew up using the internet to tell me to be careful as a minor. people did whatever they wanted to and got away with it. so naturally, i didn’t catch any of the red flags, neither was i even on the lookout for them in the first place.

skip forward nearly a year, my mom knows a lot about this guy, since i’m quite open with her about, well, everything. my mom has always been my best friend. that summer we were planning a 3 month long trip home, to ukraine. him and i thought it would be cool to met up, since by now he was back home in russia. for reference, ukraine is to the far left side of russia, whereas this guy lived on the polar opposite side, on a piece of russian land that is right above japan. he would have to fly across the entire russia to see me. russia. you know, that massive thing? he was perfectly fine with it. i convinced my mom to let me meet him, and she said only if he stays at our place. naturally.

he came for only a couple days. our apartment back home is quite small so with my mom and constant family guests, there was always a pair of eyes on him. it got a little bit strange eventually. he was touchy, but not in an inappropriate way at all. i’m sure it’s not due to his personal decency, and rather because he would most definitely get caught. he would try to hold my hand, or brush my hair off my face, pat my head. things like that. it didn’t go beyond that. but to me, at the time, it was a grown adult man doing it to me, which gave me an unsettling anxious feeling.

on his last day he wanted to go out because he wanted me to try a drug that he had been talking about the entire time i’ve known him. i would prefer not to go into what it is, but it has a heavy hallucinogenic effect that lasts for a very, very long time. naturally he told my mom he just wanted me to show him around, and i was in on the lie. i was curious. my mom was always very strict with coming back home right on time, so we promised her we will be home by 10 pm.

we went out at around 5. and it lasted longer than he promised. way longer. we came home at 3 am. despite the hallucinations being quite heavy and mind-boggling, the effect of the drug didn’t make me feel “out of it”. my perception of time and space was obviously very skewed, but i knew who i was and where i was, and what was happening around me. he didn’t try anything. there wasn’t even as much as an attempt. except, well, when i realized what time it was i rushed home so fast that i was not going to stop for anything. so i’m not sure. maybe the night wasn’t over in his mind yet, but it was in mine. i felt bad for my poor mother who had been worried sick since 10 pm. it was pitch black outside so i went home through a well-lit road that has a lot of cars. now that i think about it, i may have unintentionally saved myself from things getting worse.

i only stopped when we were outside my apartment, because i wanted to focus as much as i could before going in. he sat down on the bench and beckoned me to sit next to him. and he kissed me. i dont remember how exactly it happened but it just kind of did. i went along with it and didn’t say anything after, i went inside the apartment building like nothing happened. it was odd. i didn’t know what it meant, but i also didn’t care, because i wanted to see my mom as soon as i could, ad it was the only thing on my mind.

one look in my eyes and she knew everything. she told me to go to bed. i don’t know what she told him. i’m not sure she said anything. the next morning she asked me if anything happened. i assured her that i was safe. and then he was gone. she didn’t say anything to him. she just dropped him off to make sure he actually left.

after that we didn’t really talk nearly as much. we tried to keep in contact but honestly, i wasn’t as drawn to him anymore. eventually, out of nowhere, he posted some really mean and rude comments under a bunch of my pictures, and i ended up deleting him.

now for the creepiest part. nearly 4 years later we plan another trip to ukraine to visit family. i have some medical conditions with my spine that i needed to get very uncomfortable and painful massages for. my health is one of the main reasons why we took trips back home often. one day about a week or so into my trip i was leaving my apartment to get into a taxi to go to one of those massage appointments. i exit the building and there he was. sitting on the bench and just looking at me. 4 years later. not a word. across russia.

even though it was bright afternoon and a lot of people were out, i was overcome with dread. i awkwardly told him “sorry, i have to go somewhere” and rushed to get into the taxi. he didn’t say anything, just kept looking. on my way back from the massage i called one of my close old friends that worked in the UKR special forces. my mom wasn’t home and i did not feel safe returning. he picked me up and drove me home, and came in with me, all the way into the apartment, the guy wasn’t there anymore. i made my friend coffee and told him about this guy. he promised to drive by once in a while to make sure he isnt hanging out here at odd hours.

later that day at around 8 pm i got a text from an unknown number. “so, are you scared of me now?”.

i closed all my blinds and curtains, locked both entrance doors, and told my female friends not to come visit me, because he knew their faces. yes, i was scared. i was really scared. he didnt say a word to me in 4 years, somehow found out about my trip and just showed up. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to cry or scream. i knew i had to get rid of him somehow. so i responded, making up a story about being really sick and needing constant treatment, and that i made plans with all my friends to leave tonight to go to another city for 3 weeks.

he was angry with me and very upset. he expected a happy reunion i guess. i was very polite to him and apologized, saying i felt bad he traveled all this way only to be told this. he started writing really cryptic things. “i know a secret how to cure any illness of yours, you don’t need doctors, it’s like a code, you plug it in and you become anything”. “i came here to cure you because you’re the only person it will work on”. “i went to your page to ask your friends if your plans are true, but you have them hidden. why don’t you trust me anymore?”

among this he called me. over and over. between every message, a missed call i refused to pick up. eventually i broke down and asked him why is he acting like this. to which he said “because you are the only woman in the world i will ever be able to love this much”. i told him i was with someone and have been for 2 years, and to leave me alone. after a handful more cryptic messages, he stopped for a while. and ended it in a plea to forgive him. i didn’t respond to anything beyond the confession.

thankfully i had no contact with him since then, and as far as i know there have been no attempts from him. however, i don’t use russian social media anymore, and none of them are linked to any of my active “american” accounts, so to speak. so there is no way for him to find me. if you ever wondered why i never make my real name public and always go under aliases, this is largely why.

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chmerkovskiyvalentin · 6 years ago

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Q&A With Valentin Chmerkovskiy

BOOK: I'LL NEVER CHANGE MY NAME AUTHOR: VALENTIN CHMERKOVSKIY

1. In your opinion, what were some advantages you had being an immigrant and what were some disadvantages you faced in America?

I guess being an immigrant at a young age gave me an opportunity to be challenged in ways most kids my age didn’t get challenged. Learning another language different from the one I have been speaking since birth, trying to fit in while not being able to afford certain things that had social status, from clothing to vacations, whatever gave you the license to be cool I didn’t possess when I was young.

But what I realized is work-ethic and talent are the coolest things you can have at any age, and immediately the things I didn’t have became my most valuable assets teaching me some of my most valuable lessons.

2. What inspired the title of your book, “I’ll Never Change My Name” and did you always have pride in your name or was it something you had to grow to love?

I always had immense pride in my name, because my name was given to me in memory of my grandfather who passed away a few years before I was born. He was an extraordinary man whose name I wear and it’s always held me accountable, as did my last name.

Both were subject to a lot of conversation throughout my life some good and some a little more hurtful, but never did I feel less than for having a foreign name in a place I called home. It always empowered me. Being different and having challenges because of it always inspired me to be greater!

3. Have you been back to Ukraine in your adulthood? Do you feel that the American views of Ukraine as a whole are misinformed? If so, why?

I have. It’s a beautiful country with some really beautiful people. I can’t speak on American views of Ukraine because I think it’s impossible to make that assumption based on what we see on TV. I would just suggest anyone that hasn’t been, to go and visit. Having said that, to me America is home. America is where I truly grew up. And America is the country I’m most grateful for. Along with France, God knows I love croissants and Rousseau.

4. You talk a lot about your family and culture, what elements of your family changed when you arrived in the States and what elements stayed the same?

My family has always been my foundation. It's what drives me, holds me accountable, keeps me moving and pushing. When we first arrived there was tremendous uncertainty for all of us. All of the family members had their own individual challenges they faced but it was family that was the constant. We didn't know where the next dollar was coming from but we all knew that when we got home we had each other.

My parents were truly magicians, especially my mom who with very little was always able to provide the family with a warm cooked meal and had us all congregate around the dinner table daily. I do feel that was the piece of our culture we brought to the States and haven't abandoned it still. Gathering daily as a family to check in and push one another built a very strong bond and with folks like mine, I was able to be surrounded by love and support even if outside our home there was very little of it. In terms of what changed... well everything changed.

We become what we surround ourselves with. As we moved neighborhoods and as our circumstances changed, so did our lives and our outlook on it. But no matter what, we always kept our language (speaking only Russian at the dinner table) and our family traditions.

5. How easy or difficult was it for you to find your voice as a writer? And do you feel the “authentic you” was able to come out?

I've had this voice for a long time. I always loved storytelling I just had never been able to put it all down on paper before, not in this capacity at least. The most important thing for me throughout this entire process was to do justice to the reader for spending their money and most importantly time reading my book. I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me venting or gossiping, but that I was being respectful and accurate, and also entertaining and inspiring all at the same time.

Now, I don't think anyone should seek to inspire others but rather seek to be themselves the best way they can be and hopefully, by sharing their story others can relate and be inspired. I feel like with this book I got to be myself and share what I find important with the world. Hopefully, someone out there drew a little happiness from the read. That’s all I can ever ask for from my work.

6. What was your writing process like for this book?

I looked back at my life at a glance and just started listing moments that shaped my perspective and my experiences. I tried to then draw parallels between my past and my present, and just make some sense of it all. As the process went on, I was able to discover so many connections, so many fun moments, so many moments that made me say, "Aha that all makes sense now." Without reflection, it's hard to be mindful, and as I try to live a mindful life, I reflect a lot on the moments that brought me here. I wrote about it. This is who I am, and here's why.

7. You have such a unique life story, during your writing process did you ever stop and pinch yourself, realizing where you are now?

That "unique life" is exactly why I wanted to write this book. I wanted to share how dynamic life can be, for it's the thing that will make you look back one day and want to pinch yourself too. I’m so grateful for all the hands I was dealt in my life, the losing ones and the winning ones. I'm just grateful I got to play them all.

8. What have you learned most about yourself through working on “Dancing With The Stars”?

Patience haha. I learned how much I love to perform, how much I love to help people. To some degree, I always knew that, but 'Dancing With The Stars' showed me how rewarding it can be when you're doing what you love and sharing it with millions of people.

9. Who was someone that you danced with on the show that completely surprised you because of their dancing talents?

Rumer Willis, cause she was not a dancer. She was not someone that had danced before at all. To see her transform into a dancer was really amazing. It was actually the first time I ever won DWTS was with Rumer. It was one of the most rewarding seasons not because we won, but because I got to help this young woman find her inner strength and beauty. I was able to be a small part of her journey and contribute to her growth, all while watching her family and the world celebrate her. That was very special for me.

10. Can you talk a little bit about the dance studio you opened in Buckhead (an uptown district in Atlanta) and what you hope students get from your studio?

Like with every Dance With Me location around the country, I want it to be a place for people to feel welcome, in what can be one of the most terrifying environments for people... a Dance Studio. That is most important to me, that people are proud to be part of our little community of positivity, inclusion, self-improvement, and fun. Dance is just a vehicle for the bigger picture, living a fulfilling life. That’s all we are. Dance With Me is a place where I want people to find a little help, a little motivation, and a little joy on their path to living a complete and fulfilling life.

11. What’s the best book you have read in 2019 thus far?

The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck. Don't let the title fool you, it’s a book about how to care even more... about the things that truly matter. "The Subtle Art of Caring Responsibly" just didn't have the same ring to it.

12. What’s your best advice for getting over writer’s block?

Just like getting over procrastination and anxiety... JUST DO IT. So insensitive and so simple I know, but sometimes we complicate things into non-existence. Relax. Breathe. And GO. Action is the best remedy for all the blocks in our life.

Force yourself to just take the first step, write the first paragraph and you will see that just one word turns into two and then ten and then you got yourself a story. I like to see the bigger picture in everything I do. What’s the message? What’s the point? What’s the bigger message? How is this different? I mean sure it’s all important but... breathe, relax, and START!

It’s ok if its garbage at first, genius sometimes can come out of garbage, and sometimes not, sometimes it just stays garbage. But, in this short time, we have on earth creating something is better than creating nothing, so create don't worry about the end in the beginning. One step at a time. One word at a time. One breath at a time. Not in that order, of course, make sure you breathe throughout. :)

13. What’s the best advice you have ever received on happiness?

I didn't. It's a constant search. Happiness is earned with action and adventure and movement and ups and downs in life! Happiness is in constant motion, you gotta chase it, find it, and foster it. If you're unhappy, just remember that happiness is just around the corner. But, don't take anyone's word for it, go and see it for yourself. And if you don't find it still, then go to your nearest Dance With Me. I promise you will find happiness there. Nothing like the human touch shared on the dance floor.

14. Do you plan on writing more books in the future?

I do when I have the spark. When I get this dying desire that I can’t breathe without writing it. I couldn't breathe with all of these stories in my head, I had to put them in a book. I had to share. I don't have that now. I'm actually in a state of reclusion to some degree, where the combination of spending the last 7 years on television along with 7 national tours and then writing this book, I feel like I need to step back.

I need to be a human again and live, and in living find inspiration for the thoughts that will turn into words I want to share with the world. I think the next book I write will be fiction.

#great interview #and i'm sooooo here for him writing a fiction one day #val chmerkovskiy #interviews

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oppressiveliberator · 6 years ago

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Have you ever been to Sinnoh? Any people or places of interest?

Years of Life Experience | Ask 'Have You Ever’ Questions!

“I’ve been to most every region! Certainly some are off limits to foreigners, or they were when I was still travelling, but when possible I tried to visit anywhere I could. The world is a fascinating place--so much to learn, to do, to experience, to discover. . . .

“But, yes, I have been to Sinnoh! Perhaps. . .20* years ago. . .? I’ve met plenty of interesting people, but that’s always quite a personal matter, isn’t it? I’m certain that some of the people I’ve met have led interesting and productive lives. . .but I haven’t exactly checked in recently. I would, but. . .my current. . .circumstances make doing so somewhat difficult. But I think I can speak more on places than people.

“Sinnoh is full of mythology--sometimes it seems like it’s even moreso than other regions! They’re quite religious there, so there are plenty of beautiful cathedrals and other places of worship to see. I recommend joining them for services if you may--do be respectful, of course, but I personally enjoy such things. Churches and temples have a wonderful atmosphere of devotion and belief--and sometimes trust, and sometimes fear of the supposed higher powers they stand for. . . .

“Ah, but I digress! The three lakes--actually said to possibly be connected to Unova in their deepest parts!--are beautiful and make for an interesting trip. . .though I’ve heard that there’d been an incident perhaps ten years ago. . .but surely things have settled some by now. Reaching the caves that are in the center of these lakes is something one will mostly have to attempt on their own, as their being the homes of the lake spirits in Sinnoh--as opposed to the ones here in Unova--make them a sort of sacred place, though they’re unguarded as far as I recall, and when I entered I didn’t find anything, myself. But mythical and legendary Pokémon are almost always hidden away, aren’t they. That’s why they’re the stuff of myths and legends and not even believed to exist by many.

“Mt. Coronet and Stark Mountain also make for pleasant trips, and Stark Mountain in particular is good to visit if you grow tired of the cold, myahaha. If you can make the hike, the Spear Pillar, where Sinnoh Myths say the world began, is fascinating--well, if you like ruins, that is. It’s quite high up as well--higher than the clouds, even, which keeps it clear of snow despite the snow elsewhere on Mt. Coronet--so do take caution when visiting. Air density is very, very low when you’re that high up, which means there’s less oxygen to go around. I imagine that such oxygen deprivation prompted some of the myths that are told of it.

“There’s another interesting, mythological place, but. . .most of the locals seem keen on keeping it quiet and keeping people out of it for fears of what’s supposedly within. . .perhaps it would be wrong of me to tell you to look for it? Myahaha.

“But do be adventurous as with any region! Sinnoh has many Pokémon you’ll likely find scarce in other regions if you’re a collector or trainer--or somebody who wishes to ‘befriend’ Pokémon, I suppose--so be prepared to explore if that’s what you’re visiting for. The Great Marsh, as I recall, is home to many Pokémon--I believe they'd received approval from the Global League to make it into a Safari zone, so that should surely be done by now.

“The further north you go in Sinnoh, particularly on the east side of the region as it is split by Mt. Coronet, the more you’ll find a greater difference in the regions, culturally and linguistically. While they primarily share most of the mainland culture and language--the mainland being where Kanto and Johto and so on are--the northern and eastern areas are heavily, and in some places entirely, culturally and linguistically influenced by Russia! The Battle Zone--an island off the north end of Sinnoh itself--especially shares this connection and is decidedly more Russian than Sinnohan. While you’ll most certainly find speakers of “West Sinnohan” there, do be aware that you may struggle with communication as many of the towns and cities there speak only in Russian and “East Sinnohan” and they’re unsurprisingly different dialects.“Hm, I believe I went somewhat offtrack there. . . . My apologies. The combined cultural experience is an amazing one, and I highly recommend visiting the east side of Sinnoh with a guide if you plan on going further north. And I do recommend going towards Snowpoint, if only to see Lake Acuity and the Snowpoint Temple--although, you’re not permitted to enter the latter unless you’re “chosen.” The temple guardians will teach you plenty of things, however, and the exterior and surrounding area are beautiful and well-maintained.

“If you’re a battler or a coordinator, the aforementioned Battle Zone is likely where you’d like to visit. Despite its name battling isn’t the only matter handled there as it is an entire settlement, though with heavy focus on its perhaps most marketable areas. The Fight and Survival areas are for battlers--the Fight Area is an ideal visit if you’re more of a viewer of battles than a participant, as they do allow audiences to witness many battles within.

“As for Coordinators, the Resort Area is likely more their speed--and surprisingly tropical. The Ribbon Syndicate is off limits to but the most skilled of coordinators, but it does host audience-attended Pokémon Contests now and then. . .for a modest fee. I assume it’s one of those places coordinators dream of performing in, though I will admit I don’t know much about the culture and industry behind Pokémon contests, and am more of a casual fan of Beauty and Cleverness Contests. Of course, there are Contest Halls all about Sinnoh as well! There’s no need to go to the Battle Zone to see them.

“Truthfully what places of interest you may want to look out for depend on your own interests! I’m certain I could name many places to go, but they may not be of interest to you. For example, Route 224 is a largely irrelevant peninsula which ends on a cliff overlooking the sea. But at a certain time of year, flowers grow on the otherwise rocky cliff and the pollen and overgrowth turns the rock an interesting shade of white. Among both certain religions and simply local custom, it’s common practice to come to this rock when it’s in its white form, and leave charms and notes of thanks to Shaymin, the Gratitude Pokémon, which are theorized to live there in some capacity. Of course, I do love my myths and legends, so I find such a place to be a fantastic visit. Even visitors are welcomed to leave their words of thanks, so it’s something of local culture to be explored.“I’ll also add that, at times, it appears there are flowers in the ocean itself just off the cliff, uninhibited in their growth by the seawater. They must come quite a ways up to reach the sunlight, given that the sea there is quite deep. Perhaps they’re expressing their gratitude as well.“Ah! And on the note of Shaymin! They’re also said to make their home somewhere near Floaroma Town--which I don’t recommend you visit if you have allergies, myahahahaha! Flowers are in bloom here all throughout the year, supposedly because of Shaymin’s efforts when it was previously barren. These days, it’s a farming area and produces some of the most fantastic crops and honey one can find in the world--not to mention the variety of flowers! I remember hearing talk of using the mystically fertile land to hopefully regrow long extinct plants and grass-type Pokémon from all around the world, though I wonder if that ideal ever saw the light of day.

“Celestic Town, the oldest city in Sinnoh, is as traditionally Sinnohan as a place could be. It’s the best place to go about learning Sinnoh’s history, although it’s such a traditional town in most places that it could be jarring for most modern visitors. . . .”

He exhales, taking in a few breaths. He hadn’t been talking nonstop or particularly rambling, but he had spoken a lot. . .which he loved to do, but he was beginning to tire of it. After a long drink, he ended his little recollections. “Goodness me, I’ve said quite a bit. . .hopefully you can find something you like if you go to Sinnoh. Your average visitor seems to have mixed feelings about it, but if you know what you’re after and where to look, and you’re prepared for the cultural and linguistic leap across the mountains, you should have a splendid time.”

((*I’m going off real life years just to be lazy because the timeline a GameFreak employee gave us is hard to work with lmao, take this number with a grain of salt? DPPt released in 2007--Cyrus was 27 in DPPT. DPPT was roughly 12 years ago real time, so Cyrus would be 39 at present, and he’s implying he met Cyrus when Cyrus was 18 or so years old, when Cyrus was in college.))

#Headcanon | The Horror That He Brings The Horror Of His Sting The Unholiest Of Kings #Asks | The Truth Won’t Save You Now #Worldbuilding | Show Me Where Can Do How Can Do It Who Can Do This With You #((not really sure how much of this counts as worldbuilding since like.))#((90% of it is just me describing various places after reading about them on bulbapedia))#((because sinnoh was so long ago for me lmao))#((lmao i'm orried this stopped coming out in his voice somewhere along the line. . . .))#abib918 #((thank you very much for the ask❣))

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soulfulauror · 6 years ago

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The topic I’m bringing you today is one that I’ve grappled with for nearly as long as I’ve played Tina: Jewishness and the Wizarding World with respects to Tina.

Let me preface this that while I’m a conversion student (reform) I’m not from a Jewish family myself. Although I’ve started to practice religiously I cannot and will not call myself an authority on the matter for ethnic/secular Jewish people. As this is also a headcanon post while I will touch on minute details of my research I will not express every nuance, but I am happy to share texts and ideas.

Being a wizarding Jew: Religious or Ethnic? One of the biggest misconceptions I’ve seen in the FB fandoms in regards to the Goldstein sisters is that their relation to their Jewishness has to be religious. It does not. The Jewish people are one of the oldest people with written history, language, and culture in the world. There are people born Jewish, by Jewish law, that do not practice religiously and don’t believe in a higher being. This is the first thing I like to make a point of when writing either of the girls: They don’t have to be religious.

America in the 1920s in relations to Judaism: Like many different ethnic and religious groups there was a spike in immigration by the Jewish people in the 18th through 20th centuries. In particular, in the 19th century immigration happened due to Russian pogroms. Antisemitism was on a global level with Henry Ford in the United States writing propaganda in the early 20th century.

The 19th century also saw the introduction of a new form of Jewish movement in Baltimore, the Reform movement. Jewishness on a religious level within the United States was broadening. There were “modern” Jewish plays on Broadway. The introduction of the reform movement was considered a revitalization by some and in other ways, it was pulling away from a traditional Jewish identity in a time where being Jewish was dangerous and on a global scale unwanted by peers. This only heightened post WWI where the Jewish people were considered the “problem” and we know what happens from there.

New York in the 1920s had one of the largest Jewish populations on the planet and today still holds the second largest (after Israel). Different census says that the Jewish population at the time was anywhere between 30-50% of the population and reached a high in the 20s*. This means the wizarding population of New York would have, subsequently, had a large Jewish population and their own cultural identity.

Religion and witchcraft. This is a topic that I consider on all types of levels-- For a strict, orthodox Jewish person the idea of witchcraft would be considered against the Torah. For Conservative and Reform Judaism it might change a bit. But even for Orthodox Jews for the wizarding world it might be considered “an exception”. For this I’d like to direct you to a fanfiction about an orthodox Anthony Goldstein: here who explains the concept far better than I can. The idea essentially is that if not doing something (practicing/learning sorcery) will become a danger to others is it strictly wrong. And in this case, we know that magic can act explosively if not handled properly and, if repressed, results in an Obscurial.

Jewishness also has pagan roots and it’s own mysticism in Kabbalah. Early temple era practices involved ritual sacrifice (largely of animals that eventually got written out). I haven’t done enough research into Kabbalah itself to want to firmly say anything on it but a quick definition is, “ Practical Kabbalah in historical Judaism, is a branch of the Jewish mystical tradition that concerns the use of magic. ... “ Sukkot is, in a sense, still one of the most pagan-like traditions held.

So what does this mean for Tina and how does she handle her Jewishness? Well, not that we got the highlights of what I consider about her identity itself down let’s discuss Tina’s history itself:

Regardless of what debates may come up I will always write Tina as ethnically and religiously Jewish. Full stop. However, I also consider the effect that having lost her parents would have here. For my version of Tina I write as if her parents died somewhere in between her being 8 to 9-years-old. By this age she has a more firm grip on how her parents treated their own identities and it’s part of the cultural values she grew up in.

However, that was over fifteen years ago and for 9 of those years she would have been in most of my verses an orphanage (and I have reasons for that and I’ll write a headcanon on that one day). And when she wasn’t she was at Ilvermorny which, instead of collaborating cultural identities seems to be like England and no-maj America more Christain based. I’d like to think in a perfect worl children would be excused for religious holidays to practice, but given how religion is non-existent in this world it’s doubtful. So she went to a secular boarding school where Christmas, Easter, etc would have been the major holidays.

Still with me? Cool. So now that we’ve gotten all of the bits and pieces together that I’ve considered for Tina the fun part comes in:

I write Tina as culturally Jewish, led by Jewish morals and ideals, without a belief in g-d.

By the time her parents died Tina’s morals would have been formed and these are the things I have written into her character. Without dwelling on it long I’ll lift some titles from one of my favorite works Jewish Wisdom by Rabbi Joshua Telushkin on this. “When to Give, What to Give, How to Give,” “Helping the Helpless,” “The Obligation to criticize, How to do So, and When to Remain Silent,” “Listen to her voice,” “Either friends or death,” “A Person is Liable by his Actions”.

These are just some of the passages in this work that I feel plays into Tina’s character and I try to subtly put in. Because I do feel like that I shouldn’t have to constantly say she is Jewish for her to be Jewish-- Action speaks just as loudly as words and that’s what, to me, fits Tina best. So when I write her I consider how the Torah and Talmud would work and this Jewish morality, not necessarily adhering to mitzvahs (though she does to many, but she doesn’t live by them).

Saying she doesn’t feel religiously Jewish, however, doesn’t mean I don’t feel like she does nothing either. The interesting thing about Judaism is that you are allowed to grapple with it and come at your own terms. It’s that reason that it’s completely possible for wizarding Jews to be religious too-- Because it’s all about finding your own identity with g-d.

Tina’s had a difficult life, though. She lost her parents at a young age, she’s seen cold nights with no food, struggled to be successful and it’s always been something she had to do on her own. It’s not necessarily that she doesn’t believe in g-d she’s just come to terms with h him in her own way-- And this way is more of a spiritual reflection than anything.

She does believe in the holiness of Yom Kippur, for example. It’s the one time of year that I write she asks for off and insists on. Any other holiday she’ll work if she has to, but this is the one time she pressed for because it’s a period of reflection for her-- She’ll work through the week leading up after Rosh Hashanah but she earnestly takes the time Yom Kippur gives to understand herself, come to terms with what she did during the year, and it’s also a time she pays respect to her parents.

Tina’s Jewish identity for me is directly connected to the loss of her parents. After they pass away she has no reason to go to shul anymore, no reason for prayer, other than daughterly obligation. Again, she lived in an over-crowded era where kids like her would have been extremely lucky to eat properly. She’d have no reason to believe in those circumstances, but se still tried.

Every year without fail Tina lights a candle on Yom Kippur. She’d save up whatever nickles she could find when she was little. And now on the anniversaries of their deaths she visits their gravestones and places a rock. When she was old enough to give Queenie anything on Chanukkah she’d present her a single present, not much and it took too long to get the money for it--

--But for Tina she’s a woman who holds onto those memories and moments with her parents. She lives in her mother’s old apartment, wears their old clothes, keeps a locket that I personally write as her mothers. Holding onto these small moments is like holding onto a piece of them.

Tina is also a bit of a scholar as seen with her various books and I don’t feel that ends on the magical spectrum. She does earnestly want to know about the background she comes from, so she’s read the Torah and she reads scholastic works. And occasionally if she’s off at the time she walks to the nearest shul on Shabbat mornings.

Her Jewishness is a part of her and it’s something she grapples with. A younger her was angry at the concept of g-d allowing her parents to die, an older her understands that some things happen and it’s how you deal with them, the strength that pulls you through that happens. That there are no guarantees and what you can do is by acting with just and moral decisions. And that’s exactly how she lives.

Kosher is something I waffle on and this goes back to the remarks of “Hot dog, again? ...Not a very wholesome lunch.” Which I and many others do think is supposed to go back to that, but again I think it’s much more complicated-- Technically eating pork/non-kosher/what not is allowed if there’s nothing else to eat and you’ll starve otherwise. So I think as a child, before her parents died, Tina ate kosher-- But after they died it became eating whatever came by. That included pork or dairy products or whatever was there.

As an adult she does try to eat kosher for the most part, but she also eats at a matter of convenience. Hot Dogs could be kosher, but stand ones are unlikely so she probably justifies it by she needs to eat and she doesn’t know (and Waterston has saidt hat Tina gets so stressed out/works so much that she forgets to eat). There’s also some Jewish people who eat kosher in the home by don’t outside of it simply because of the idea they don’t actually know if a place is entirely kosher (since strict Judaism calls for such foods to not even be cooked on the same utensils).

The last and final element I consider is the fact that Tina is a woman who has high morals, strong loyalty, and a constant work-ethic. What this means is that although I feel she asks for at least one holiday off a year she doesn’t stress the others-- Her spirituality is more important and she can’t justify taking many off. Especially not during the High Holidays in the fall when you’re not /technically/ supposed to work for a month. She simply can’t afford that and I’ve read a few articles where even on Shabbat if it’s a greater loss to you (ie: money/food/etc) it can be justified and since her Jewishness is more spiritual than religious...

Well. Tina is a practising Jew, within the confines of the life she’s been given. She is very culturally Jewish and knows Yiddish and Hebew passably enough, Yiddish more so. She’s even a scholarly Jew, wanting to learn what she can even if it’s not necessarily something she makes part of her identity. Tina is very proud of being Jewish and holds it close to her heart as part of her parents. She’s just not a Jewish person who has quite come to concepts with her own idea of g-d or if one exists for her.

I would go on but this is already long and I think this covers quite a bit of information without going into my feelings on Tina versus period-antisemitism.

Thanks for coming this far if you have!

#headcanon ✘ an uncomplicated act of kindness

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leninouche · 6 years ago

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Eyyyyy I‘ve been tagged by @ignorethepineapples !

Nickname: Leni

Height: 1,70 i think

Time: 23:02

Favourite band/artist: many many but probably Johnossi

Song stuck in my head: thankfully atm none

Last movie I watched: Sissi part 1

Last thing I googled: my horoscope chart

Other blogs: none

Do i get asks: nope

Why i chose this username: i once was on an exchange in france and leninouche sorta became my nickname

Following: uhhh 130 i think? Not sure tho

What I‘m wearing: grey sweatpants, a blue shirt and soft pullover and pink socks. My pajamas

Dream job: lector (is it the same in english? I only know the german Lektor. I promise i dont mean hannibal)

Dream trip: spending the whole winter in venice

Play any instruments: sadly no. I only sing

Hair color: light brown with a bit red

Languages you speak: german. English, french and I started Russian a few weeks ago

Most iconic song: man. Theres so many. But probably Bohemian Rhapsody tbh

Random facts about myself: i am very focused on aesthetic and it goes so far that i won‘t say certain words because they don‘t sond good to me or their meaning is not nice yknow. Also I feel a strong connection to venice? Whenever im not there I get random bursts of nostalgia for no reason at all and wanna go back

Zodiac sign: libraaaa

Age: probably ice age

Nationality: german

Fave fruit: raspberry

Fave scent: rain, wind and baked goods

Fave season: i love all but autumn

Fave colour: dark green and blood red

Fave animal: birbs but I def love all of the animols

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate? All of them. And all at oNCE

Average hours of sleep: 7-9

Facourite fictional character: boy. I cant choose? But like. Enjolras. Basil Hallward. Eddie Kaspbraak. Kirillov from Dostoyevsky‘s Demons?

Blog created: uhhh 2016 or some time around then

Fave subject: i‘m at uni and there it‘s def Literature and History of British Culture (basically england‘s history in a nutshell)

Hogwarts house: ravenclaw yasss

Fave artist: Leonardo DaVinci! And Bouguerau

That was funnn!!!

I tag anyone who wants to do this tbh

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just-me-2022 · 3 years ago

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From Russia with Hope: A Letter to the Outer World

Hello.

The recent days have been a terrible time for millions of people and changed the world they live in. And the longer it continues, the stronger is the need to speak up. I am a Russian citizen, one of millions, and today I’m writing this to you, while I still can, in hope that someone sees this, understands and maybe changes their opinion about Russians — not the government, not the president and his associates, but the ordinary people who only wish to live in peace. This article is already published on Medium (https://medium.com/@just_one_person/from-russia-with-hope-a-letter-to-the-outer-world-1bf29a64d834), but I’m also posting it here so that more people can see it.

These words have been brewing in my mind for quite a while, and now I hope I can properly put them into writing. No one assigned me to do so — I just need someone to finally read and hear this. If you think that all the Russian people are aggressive, want war, approve the current actions of Russian government in Ukraine or don’t really care and idly observe the events with no sympathy, maybe after reading this you will change your mind. Maybe not. But I hope you do.

I will probably say a lot of ‘we’, meaning my people, and even though I can really only speak for myself, I can also assume that hundreds, thousands, millions of Russians feel the same. I will say only what I think and feel, what I know and what I believe to be true. This letter will probably be long, but also very honest.

The first thing I need to state, because it’s the most important thing there is: Russian people do not want war. We know and understand very well that warfare is never an option, because we remember and constantly remind each other of the horrors of the previous wars, and we are against the very idea of it. Every sane person here doesn’t want anyone to fight and to die. We only want to live peacefully and to be a part of the global community, sharing knowledge, experience and culture with others. We’ve always considered Ukrainian people a fraternal nation, many of us have friends or relatives in Ukraine, and until the recent days, the very idea of such a conflict was unimaginable and absurd. That’s the truth. But no one asked us what we want when the decisions above were made. We were not given a choice then, and we are not even allowed to have our say out loud now.

I want to say a lot to try and describe everything that’s been going on in Russia in regard to the latest events. But there are two particular words that need to be said. The first word is:

Sorry. I have to admit, here and now, that we, the Russian people, are inevitably responsible for what is happening. Not because we approve or encourage the conflict with Ukraine — we do not, never have and never will. We are outraged and devastated to learn about all the deaths and losses it’s bringing. We have no hatred for Ukraine and for any other country whatsoever, we do not need anyone else’s lands and resources, we do not want to conquer anyone and to have wars. But we are still responsible, because we could, could have done more to influence the way our country was going, and unfortunately we were not far-sighted enough to see all this coming and prevent it then, just as we are not strong enough to just stop it now. At least, not yet.

I don’t know how much you, people out there, really know about Russians, about our life, our values, our views. How often you talk to us, hear our stories and opinions, watch and read our news. I don’t know what your governments and news say about us — not the faceless country and its authorities, but about us, the real people. Thing is, I believe, we are just like you. But we live in a different social and political reality, and most people abroad probably don’t really know that, because that’s not something anyone would ask about and dig deep into. The lack of contact, of real connection between people from different countries can be really harmful, because we don’t know how you live and what you think of us, and you don’t know the same about us. All we know is what media tell us — and we’re lucky if the media tell the truth. Sometimes they don’t.

Initially, this letter was much longer, with specific details about life in Russia and its history, so people out there who live in the free world and are not afraid of their own government could understand better why only some and not all of us are going outside to protest. But right now I will try to be a bit more succinct. I’ve never been very good at being succinct, but I will try. Maybe I can’t do much, but I can write this. It’s better than doing nothing.

We don’t know what the real reason of all this is. Lies are coming from everywhere, everyone keeps putting the blame on everyone else, and we don’t know what to believe, so we don’t believe anyone at all. Including the authorities and police, because they just can’t be seen as our allies and protectors any more. The attack against Ukraine was completely unexpected by pretty much everyone, maybe even including most of the authorities, too. Yes, there was a conflict brewing that would have eventually broken out in some way, but no one expected for it to turn into actual military action, because it just didn’t make sense and it still doesn’t. We don’t know what even the real point of this is, why was it necessary to start the actual armed conflict instead of trying to solve all the disagreements through negotiations and diplomacy, you know, like normal sane people do in the modern world. We don’t know why anyone above even thought that this ‘special operation’, as the authorities insist on calling it, can possibly be worth taking people’s lives, depriving them of their homes, threatening the world’s safety, and ruining a whole country’s economy and international politics. They say it’s all meant to help the people who have been suffering and oppressed in LPR and DPR for years, but no one really believes it, because let’s be honest — it’s never about the people. The people are usually the excuse and the number one victim in such situations. So it must be about something else, and we don’t know what it is, so we don’t know when it’s going to stop. And we don’t know what to do.

Because we are scared. It is a shameful thing to admit, but it’s true. Russia is not a free country, and Russians are not a free nation. For years the censorship in Russia has been increasing. Slowly but steadily, our freedoms were being taken away from us, and we didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late. Russia had already had a rich history of censorship and repressions, and in 21st century, with time, we got unused to speak our minds freely again and grew to feel that our actions and choices have very little effect on what’s happening, because, well, after the recent years it does feel quite so. The only real opposition leader, who was famous, influential and brave enough to say no loudest of all, was almost killed, prosecuted and now imprisoned in contrary to the decision of the European Court of Human Rights. This speaks volumes.

The idea of crime, stated by law, began to blur and now can be interpreted any way you like. All the restrictions were always claimed to be meant to protect people from threats, and those threats used to make sense, like terrorism, racism, suicide propaganda and other things that are just wrong. But now the threat seems to be the truth itself, and the censorship is close to reaching its climax. Independent media that publicly share information about the events in Ukraine are being banned by the government for ‘discrediting the military forces’, and the journalists are persecuted as criminals. Many websites where people speak openly about what’s happening, including Twitter and Facebook, are banned, and even sources like Wikipedia can be blocked in the near future. Yes, there are fabrications coming from everywhere, it’s inevitable, and the media sources acknowledge that when they share the information, but they still should be allowed to share it.

Now even just posting your pacifistic opinion on social media, even simply calling the current events ‘war’ instead of ‘special operation’ is a crime that can lead to prison. If you push away a policeman when he’s trying to grab you during the protest march, you can be arrested and prosecuted for assault. If five policemen beat one man who is lying down on the pavement, with their feet and batons (there is a video of that incident online), or if a policeman questions women while hitting them in the face with a bottle of water, calling them sluts, threatening to rape or to kill them (there are audio recordings and accounts of that from the arrestees), — that’s perfectly fine, apparently. Just as fine as coming to a twelve year old boy’s house and turning off electricity there because he shared his opinion against the ‘special operation’ at school. Because the policemen are, of course, the humble servants of law who honorably protect the country from the terrible criminals, whose crime is basically walking down the street with placards and publicly saying what they think. Thousands of people still go out and protest every day — almost 5000 protesters were arrested in Russia just yesterday. And they get searched, beaten, prosecuted, fined hundreds of dollars, more than they earn per month, and may eventually end up in prison, or at least in a hospital because of the injuries. And all that is not even for actual mutinies or attacks — no, just for gathering in groups with placards to share an opinion. I believe and hope that there isn’t a country in the West where something like this is a reality. But it is here. And everything is claimed to be for protection, order and peace. There’s this piece of fiction that many of you might know, where after a failed uprising against the government a new order was established and a gendarmerie was created to maintain that order. That gendarmerie was called Peacekeepers. What I see and read in the news every day is beginning to look more and more like their idea of peace, and it is very different from mine. In that story, it took 75 years for the people to try and change things again. That’s not the kind of story I want to live in, but it feels that in some measure it’s already started.

This is why when people stay at home, they do it not because they don’t care, but because they fear for their safety, and for safety of their loved ones. We need to take care about our children, our senior relatives, our pets. If we go to prison or die (which might happen, too, if it comes to armed fights), there’ll be no one left to help them. If we get fined hundreds of dollars, they will starve.

I’ve read that all the sanctions that are targeted at the Russian people are meant to make us angry and therefore call us to action against our government. But we are already angry. We got angry the moment we learnt about the first people who died in Ukraine because of our government’s actions. We are angry, but we are not law breakers, and we are not violent. Maybe that makes us weak, but there is a certain moral line a person needs to cross to turn anger into violence. It appears that this is the line that our police has crossed a while ago, but we have not.

This is why I admire the bravery of every person who goes out there, but I also understand those who do not. It really is a matter of life and death. It’s the fear. It’s the feeling of helplessness. It’s the lack of unity, it’s the doubt that everyone around will be brave enough to support you if you say no. That you won’t be an only warrior or a part of a small group that will be crushed in seconds, but a part of a huge force that will win and make a change. And also it’s this stupid hope that people above are supposed to be clever and so they should be able to eventually come to an agreement and work it out, because that’s what they are there for. It really does feel like the foreign leaders out there, who can actually talk to our government, actually ask them why, actually hold them to account, are capable of much more than we are right now.

It feels like while the whole world has been going forward, we’ve been slowly, sometimes imperceptibly drawn back. Russia is a country that is rich with resources, but we, the people, are not. Frankly, most of us struggle every month to at least cover food, accommodation, bills and medicine. The exception, of course, are the few people who are very rich, some of them unimaginably rich. And all those people, rich and influential, won’t really suffer the consequences of the most sanctions that are applied against Russia. Because if you’re a multibillionaire who loses a couple of billions, you will still have billions left one way or another and will still live in comfort, maybe a little bothered by a minor change of weather. This is why it is so easy for such multibillionaires to decide the fate of millions of people. And if you make three or four hundreds of dollars per month, when you lose that, you are left with nothing. Yes, we are not dying and starving yet, but if nothing changes, we will. We know things have to change, but because of everything I’ve listed above, right now we just don’t know how to change them. Right now, we have no one to trust, no one to rally behind, no one to believe in, and we need such people to make a change. Change takes time, and it feels like our time is running out.

It’s getting worse, and if it carries on like this, it will be worse than ever. Because Russia’s economy is going down. The Russian ruble is plummeting, many banks and companies are close to bankruptcy, thousands of people, ordinary people who haven’t done anything wrong, are losing their jobs. Most of the sanctions used on Russia by foreign governments and companies affect the people in whole, not specific personas responsible for what is happening, so they don’t really harm the people who started this — because they are all very rich and well-protected. The sanctions are harming us, every single ordinary person. All the unimaginable economical damage that is currently being done to Russia with sanctions will be compensated by taking even more money from us. The money that we don’t even have. And this is where I get to the second word that I wanted to say. And the word is:

Please. Every day we feel more and more helpless and isolated. We understand what the sanctions are for, but when they are targeted at the country in whole, they are crushing the lives of people, just people who simply wish to live in peace and freedom, and who want to end the conflict as soon as possible. We don’t want anyone to suffer. We want everyone to live happily and freely — including Ukrainians, the residents of LPR and DPR whether they consider themselves part of Ukraine or not, and us too.

And when the ruble is going down and hundreds of foreign companies are refusing to import goods in Russia, the prices for food, medicine and basically everything needed for living are going times and times higher, so high it’s getting almost impossible for people to afford anything. Many important drugs will disappear from drugstores soon, and without decent domestic substitutes, thousands and thousands of people who are ill will get worse and might become disabled or die. The same will happen if we lose medical tech required for diagnostics and treatment.

When foreign companies are shutting down their operations in Russia — not those related to weaponry and military technical equipment, but harmless retailers, grocery and household stores, restaurants, deliveries, computer tech, furniture, clothing, sports shops, — or when such companies are revoking their licenses and services — for operational systems, design software, lodging services, money transfer, freelance platforms and many others, vital for work and life — thousands of people are losing their jobs and struggling to support themselves and their families. When people struggle to earn a living, they can’t fight for anything else, because the only thing they can fight for is survival. I don’t know if there is another way, but if there is, please, try it if you can, before it’s too late.

I must also say, though I’m not an expert at business affairs, right now it seems that all the foreign companies lose vast amounts of profit they might have gained otherwise if they continued their operations in Russia, which basically makes it worse for everyone involved and better for no one at all. If the goal is to actually support Ukraine, wouldn’t it be better and more effective for such companies to continue working in Russia and donate part of that regional profit to help Ukrainian people?

Unfortunately, there’s much more. When American providers are cutting Russian internet operators off their network, we are losing access to foreign websites and the ability to communicate with each other and the outer world online. Now it’s more important than ever — to be able to talk to people, to know what is happening in the world, not listen only to Russian governmental propaganda (that is very strong and is coming from everywhere). We need to have contact with the outer world to know and remember what life can be like, what it should be like, where we should go, what we should strive for. We need to have contact with each other, because without that, there will be no chance for us to really change our country for the better together. Right now, we are getting more and more isolated from each other and from you.

Russian government works very hard to block access to vital information and communication services from the inside, and now the same is happening from the outside. Our authorities might think that isolating our country from the whole world and going our ‘own’ way is the best possible option. But it’s not, and it never worked out well for anyone, because independence and isolation are not the same thing. Isolation is stagnation, regression, and eventually — death. And I’m afraid that it might be too late by the time our government realizes that. There is a serious risk that Russian Internet will be isolated from the rest of the world very soon. If that happens, it will be a disaster, and there will be no way out of this. People have already started running away from here just to be free and safe. Many will, but most of us can’t, because we have families here, because we have no money for that, because we don’t really have anywhere else to go and because if everyone runs away, there will be no one left to stay and make a change.

In contrast to that, things like movies, TV shows and books might seem like nothing, but they are not. What we watch, read and listen defines our personality and affects our opinions and views, and the importance of this can’t be overstated. Again, I can speak for myself. I have no hatred for the Western culture at all — I admire it, because I know that people abroad create wonderful things and make the world and the people in it better. I also have no hatred for the Russian culture, of course, because it’s my own culture and the hatred for it is not something that Western media cultivate in people’s minds (in contrary to what some people here seem to think). Yes, there are some examples in fiction where the Russians are the bad guys by default, and sometimes the repetition of this does hurt, but I understand that the politics is the main reason for it, and that’s saddening but probably inevitable.

More importantly, what the Western culture taught me is to be more kind, more empathic, more hopeful, more peaceful, more creative, more brave. That’s why I love it, and that’s why I only wish for our cultures to grow closer, not farther away from each other. I’ve always been this naive cosmopolitan idealist, dreaming to travel the globe, meet many people from different countries, learn new things and be a part of the bigger world. And I know this approach doesn’t work really well when it comes to politics, where it’s rarely about people and always about money, power and competition. But I still believe that cosmopolitism and solidarity of all nations is the only future that really works. And that’s only so because I’ve had access to Western content, including said movies, TV shows and books, since I was a child — and then later, as an adult, I’ve had access to the Internet where I can read and see anything I want to learn about the world. I can say for a fact that if I didn’t have that, if I could only absorb the content that Russia had to offer as life lessons, I would be a completely different person and I would most likely not be writing this now.

If we are blocked from viewing and reading other countries’ content now, not just the news, but also movies and books, we will only have Russian propaganda to affect our minds and the minds of our children. I can already see some people persuaded by it, but fortunately there are not so many of them whom I know. You might have seen the poll results about how many Russians support the ‘special operation’ in Ukraine, but I suspect those results are just as real and truthful as the results of pretty much every election in Russia. Again, I have no real proof on how truthful the elections are, but I have my suspicions, so you get the idea. But if we all end up in total informational isolation, eventually we will slowly forget what is true and what is not and what the better life out there is like. And there will be no hope left, because you can’t go forward for a better life if you don’t know there’s a better life to go for.

That applies to accepting our culture, too, because many companies have already refused to work on shared projects with Russians abroad. Not so long ago creators from Russia, including writers, directors, actors, painters, journalists, activists and many others finally managed to go worldwide, to share our culture with people from other countries. After years of hard work, finally they got to cooperate with foreign talents all over the world, to exchange knowledge and experience, to set up friendships and collaborations that could last long and help create something beautiful. We’ve all been so proud it was finally happening. And now all that is on a slope to collapse. All these public figures I’ve just listed have absolutely nothing to do with Russian government (just like pretty much everyone who’s not working in it or for it). Moreover, many of them seek to work abroad exactly because there is much more freedom there to express opinions, tell stories and do things that are unjustifiably forbidden in Russia. When your voice is strangled here, it’s very important to know it can be heard somewhere else. But if nothing changes, the Russian voices will be silenced again.

It is within your right to take all that away from us. But all I can do now is just ask, really ask you not to. Because by taking that away from us, you are not just taking away some entertainment and fun. You are taking away the knowledge. You are taking away the hope. And by doing that, you are not harming the people you want to harm — you are helping them. Because the more poor and isolated we are, the less we can do to have our say and stop this. For now, the Russians still keep trying, we still believe that a change can and must be made. But I don’t know how long the hope will last if we are isolated and hated all over the world. We are already scared and are getting more scared every day when we see the outer world abandoning us. We recognize and appreciate all the statements from famous people, actors, prime ministers and presidents, saying they acknowledge and understand that Russian people and Russian government are not the same thing and none of this is done on our behalf. But there are so many people still thinking otherwise. Yes, we are responsible for our country, but please don’t condemn us as guilty. We did not want this, and we want this to stop, as peacefully and as soon as possible. And we are not sure that we can stop it without the support of the world out there.

Some say that asking for help is an act of bravery. This is what I’m doing. I’m asking for your help, your understanding, your kindness. Please, don’t abandon us. Please, don’t hate us. We never asked for this, we never voted for this. It was never Russia against Ukraine, it’s Russian government against everyone and everything else, including common sense. We are not our government, so please don’t punish us for their actions. We want to end this conflict, and also the lies, the persecution, the repressions, the hatred, the prejudice, and the constant hostility between Russia and the world. I don’t know if we can solve this alone. But with you, together, maybe we can.

Thank you for reading this. Sincerely, Me.

#ukraine #russia #ukraine russia #russia ukraine #russia ukraine conflict #politics #economy

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